Breaking the Rules

by Tinthia Clemant

  “You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” she replied, not even trying to hide her amusement.

  “So you’ve told me.”

  “Would you come here?”

  “Gladly.”

  “But don’t touch me.”

  “That’s no fun.”

  “There.” She held up her hand. “Stop right there.”

  “Not going to happen.” He walked over to her and kissed her, his tongue surrounding hers and slowly sliding along it. His kiss became insistent, and he lowered her to the blanket and licked the length of her neck. “Talk.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. Was it even worth saying what she’d figured out? They weren’t together to talk.

  He pushed himself up on his hands. “Shannon, if you’re going to chew your lip like that, then talking is off the table. So, unless you’re just trying to tease me and you have nothing to say, let’s have you kneel this time.”

  “Absolutely not.” She shoved him away and scrambled to her feet. “We need to set some ground rules.”

  “Is this what you wanted to talk about? Ground rules?” He stood behind her and looped his arms around her waist. “Okay, what rules?”

  “Rule number one, no butt fucking. No licking my anus. No anus plugs. No ice cream in my anus or any place else, except my mouth. Leave my anus alone.”

  “First off, they’re called butt plugs, not anus plugs, and where did you get the idea I wanted to do those things? However, I am intrigued about the ice cream. Would chocolate work? I’m assuming without nuts, right?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I am too, but I get it now. You thought when I told you to kneel that I was heading in the back door. No, I’m perfectly happy with the openings you have in the front. However, I do want to try a different position. Haven’t you ever fucked doggy style?”

  “Yes, and why didn’t you say that to begin with?”

  “I thought I had. Moving on… Will you please kneel?”

  She managed to turn and face him, his excitement pressing against her lower abdomen. The guy was a frigging machine. “Rule number two.”

  “Go, rule number two, and I’m giving you ten seconds to finish your rules. Then I’m fucking you.”

  “Deal. Rule number two, no painful equipment.”

  He narrowed his brows and looked down at his erect penis. “You’re not talking about my—”

  “No, that piece of equipment is perfectly fine.”

  “Just fine?”

  He raised his eyebrows, creasing the furrows across his forehead even more, and her legs went weak. She pushed his hair from his eyes and said, “Absolutely perfect.”

  He laughed and scooped her in the air. “I promise the only equipment I’ll use on you will be what God gave me.”

  Again she found herself on her back with his body against hers. He positioned his hands on the sides of her head and, holding her face steady, forced his tongue into her mouth. She had no problem with his desire to consume her. In fact, she helped him by immersing her hands in his hair and twisting the blond strands into knots around her fingers and pulling. A chuckle vibrated through his chest, and he exhaled his breath into her mouth. Her toes curled, and warmth streamed from her crotch, dampening the blanket under her butt.

  He reached between their bodies and inserted his hand into her, after which he raised his glistening fingers to his mouth. She’d never tasted herself and licked along with him, her actions making him growl, “You’re incredible.”

  Next, she was on her stomach with her ass lifted toward the ceiling.

  It didn’t take him long, and almost as soon as the packet tore, he was in. His fingers pressed into her hips as he ground into her. She pushed back against each of his thrusts, but when he reached under her, she lost her rhythm and focused on the pressure building in her core.

  He increased his pace, banging against her ass and rubbing her clit.

  “Oh… St. John, no… I mean, OH!” Her arms gave out and she dropped forward as a seismic quake ripped her apart.

  He lay on her, and she smiled as the pounding of his heart vibrated through her to match her own pace. Then he rolled onto his back. “Good talk,” he said and pulled her close.

  Chapter 22

  “Thou art to me a delicious torment.”

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Shannon and St. John lay on the floor in each other’s arms, him staring up at the ceiling and her resting her cheek on his chest.

  “This isn’t the end, Shannon,” St. John said. “I want to see you again.”

  “But you said—” She raised her face to see his expression. Was another rule biting the dust?

  “I don’t care what I said.” He bent his head and looked at her. “I need to see you again.”

  “What about your rules?”

  “Screw my rules.”

  “What about the rumor?”

  “You’re divorcing Justin, so what does that matter?”

  He must have sensed her muscles tighten because he opened his arms and released her. “When did you change your mind?” he said, reaching for his jeans.

  She sorted through her clothes and dressed with her back to him. She was adjusting her bra when she answered, “I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just that this might not be the best time. I have company coming tonight, and Chad’s birthday is next weekend.”

  He walked in front of her. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? To tell me some bullshit excuse?”

  She smoothed her T-shirt, adjusted her shorts, and then looked at him. “Last night this was just sex, right? Today it was just sex too. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you did say that. So where the fuck do you get off judging my life, my actions, or anything about me? And, no, this is not what I wanted to tell you. I thought through what you said last night, about me cowering to Justin and not you. I figured out the reason, but screw it. I don’t even care at this point.” The whole while she’d been talking, she waved her arms around like she was trying to signal a plane for take-off.

  “Okay, tell me,” he said, taking hold of her arms and settling them by her sides. “What did you figure out?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me, please.”

  Without looking at him, she said, “While walking, I came to a conclusion. I get in your face because you threaten me.”

  “Excuse me? I what?”

  “You threaten me.”

  He changed direction and stood away from her. “Are you kidding me? I’ve threatened you?”

  “What?” She had to shake her head because she was certain she’d heard him wrong. “What are you talking about? No, I said—”

  He paced the length of the room. “So, this has all been about money. I am so fucking sick of people thinking I’m their ATM. I have to say, though, you had me fooled.” He stopped and released a dry chuckle. “I would have never expected it from you. Well, cry all you want. You’ll never get a dime.”

  Each one glared at the other, their breaths coming fast and hard. Shannon spoke first. “I swear you’d be the perfect man if you would keep your stinking mouth shut. Will you let me explain?”

  St. John crossed his arms. “Go, but make it snappy because I’m losing my patience.”

  Here they were again, like two rattlesnakes ready to strike. The one who drew first blood would be crowned the winner. Well, she wasn’t interested in playing any longer. “Losing, I would say; you’ve already lost your patience.”

  “You’re not helping my mood, Shannon.”

  “Fine, I said you—”

  “Yeah, I heard you. I threaten you. So, you getting into my truck today was me threatening you? You opening the door for me last night was me threatening you? Now what? You tell Justin I forced myself on you, and we go to court? Great, let’s do it. Marty will eat the two of you alive.”

  He ended his speech, and she held her silence, refusing to be baited. Let him jump to his conclusions. She already had a raging lunatic at home; she didn’t
need another one. She whistled for Jasper, clipped his leash to his collar, and pulled on the sliding door. Of course this one would be locked. She ran from the room.

  “Shannon, wait.” He caught up with her in the kitchen when she stopped to grab her sneakers.

  “I’m sick of your apologies,” she said. “You’re just like Justin, saying whatever you want, lashing out, hurting me, and then apologizing.” The harshness in her voice seemed to shock him, but it startled her even more. She was doing exactly as he’d said, coming at him with hackles raised. The poor guy didn’t know she was giving him years of pent-up anger. “Do you honestly think saying your ‘sorry’ fixes everything? You both make me sick.”

  “Fine, go. But tell me this before you leave. If Justin’s so bad, why are you going to stay with him?”

  She didn’t bother answering or putting on her sneakers but walked to the front door in her stocking feet.

  “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” he called out.

  She twisted and stormed back into the kitchen. “What you’ve been through? Let me tell you something: you have no idea what I’ve been through, so save your sob stories for someone who cares. This is what you do though, isn’t it—you make everything about you?”

  He raised his hands as in defeat. “Yup, that’s me. Selfish to the core. Go ahead and leave. At least you’re willing to leave someone.”

  She doubled Jasper’s leash around her wrist. “Goodbye, St. John. What was it you said last night? Oh, right, thanks for the fuck.” She ran for the front door. He arrived at the same time she did and held his hand on the wood. “Get out of my way,” she fumed.

  “Don’t leave like this,” he said. “I’m sorry. Please, let’s try this again.” He reached for her, and she pushed him away.

  “Leave me alone.” She didn’t want his apology; she didn’t want anything from him or anything to do with him. She’d meant what she said. She wanted to be left alone. Why couldn’t she just take Chad and be rid of everyone who felt they could kick at her whenever they liked?

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Come back, and let’s talk. I’ll listen, I promise. Just don’t leave. Please.”

  She remained looking at the door. He’d been right, and she’d just proven it. She could behave any way,, even like a raving lunatic, and he still accepted her. If she’d said the things she’d just shouted at St. John to Justin, he would have ripped her apart. But not St. John. No belittling. No insults. Just good, old-fashioned fighting. She’d been able to rage and had still remained safe.

  “Shannon, please.” He surrounded her with his body and held her. “I’m begging you, don’t leave.”

  Shannon’s cell phone woke both her and St. John. Long shadows, cast by the late afternoon sun, stretched across the floor of the Great Room.

  St. John held out her phone. “It’s Justin. Do you want me to leave while you talk to him?”

  “No, it’s okay.” She swiped the phone’s screen but hesitated, choosing to wait and hopefully gage Justin’s mood.

  His voice blared from the speaker. “Shannon, where the fuck are you?”

  She pressed the phone to her ear with a shaking hand. “I’m here, Justin. Where are you?”

  “Where am I? Where do you think I am? I’m home in a house without any food or beer. Where the hell are you?”

  “I went for a walk. I’m heading home now.”

  “Well, get here quick.”

  “Justin, where’s Chad? Did he have fun at the water park?”

  “Do I sound like I want to have a conversation?”

  “Okay, I’m on my way. You can get the grill ready for—”

  “I’m not going to cook my own food, Shannon. That’s what I have you for, so get your fat ass here now.”

  The call ended, and she stared at the phone, eventually looking up to find St. John watching her. She had nothing to say and settled on a nervous smile. “I have to go.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Don’t do this, St. John. You’re not my protector.” She bent and gathered her shorts and slipped them on.

  St. John kept his voice steady. “You have to be smart, Shannon. He could hurt you.”

  She didn’t have the energy to argue; she just wanted to get home and make sure Chad was okay. “Please don’t do this. Chad’s there; I have to go.”

  “Shannon.”

  “Drop it, St. John, okay? My son is there, and I’m not leaving him alone.” She soon realized her raised voice hadn’t been necessary; he was just trying to help. “I’m sorry.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “Thank you,” she said and left, half of her hoping he’d follow her and the other half hoping he’d stay and let her go.

  “This turmoil in my life be gone; this turmoil in my life be gone…” She repeated the mantra over and over as she sprinted through the construction site. At the green porta-potty, she stalled and grumbled and looped Jasper’s leash around the door handle. “Mama will be right out.” Sucking in her breath, she entered the dark interior. If she passed out and fell into the hole, it would serve her right. She was such an idiot, dumping on St. John as she had. If she were him, she’d run as fast as she could, which is what she should be doing instead of sitting in a dank, airless closet. What was Justin doing home so frigging early anyway? She checked the time on her phone, something she should have done long ago. Holy shit, she’d spent almost six hours with St. John. Six glorious hours.

  When she emerged, the bright daylight temporarily blinded her, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to what she was seeing—St. John’s truck and the heads of two Labrador retrievers, pink tongues and all, hanging out the rear window.

  “Get in. Please,” St. John said. “I’ll drive you to the beginning of your development.”

  “Thank you, but I’m tired of listening to how I’m making mistakes with my marriage. I can walk.”

  He opened the driver’s door and was in front of her before she could blink. “I’m well aware that your feet and legs work, but I’m not asking. However, if you’re concerned, I won’t say anything about your marriage.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  He followed her to the passenger side of the truck and helped her up. “Before we leave, I have something to say about your marriage.”

  “You promised.”

  “I lied.”

  “I thought you were the one with the rule about lying. Quite the double standard, don’t you think?”

  “My house, my rules.”

  “Actually, we’re outside, but please, finish and make it snappy. I have someplace I need to be.”

  He raised his index finger and rested it on her lips. “Stop talking and listen carefully. You’re right. Your relationship with Justin is none of my business, but if you think I’m going to stand by and watch that living pile of shit hurt you or Chad, think again. I grew up under the thumb of a douche bag like Justin, and I watched him kill my mother with his fist and mouth, and let me tell you from firsthand experience, if Justin is willing to physically hurt you, he’ll hurt Chad. Stop making this about you, Shannon, and start making it about Chad, and get him the hell away from that maniac.” He kissed her softly. “Now buckle your seatbelt; accidents happen less than a mile from the home.”

  Chapter 23

  “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom”

  Aristotle

  Running along her driveway, Shannon passed Jeff Boyle’s Explorer, Howard O’Neil’s pickup truck, and Justin’s BMW. She flew through the side door, through the garage and into the kitchen, where she snatched a bottle of water from the fridge and raced into the Great Room. Five kids, draped over the furniture, had their faces focused on the television. From the dropping of F-bombs and rapid-fire shots, the show certainly wasn’t PG.

  “What are you guys watching?” She gasped as a man’s brains splattered against a brick wall. “No, no, no, okay, enough of this.” She located the remote, and the screen went black. “G
o outside and play.” Realizing Chad wasn’t among them, she said, “Where’s Chad?”

  Kevin Doyle, one of Dee’s twelve-year-old twins, stood and stretched. “He’s upstairs.”

  His brother, Jeffrey, yawned and said, “We’re kind of sick of being outside. Can we go downstairs and play pool?”

  “Yeah, sure. Kevin, will you go upstairs and get Chad?”

  “Um, Shannon…” Kevin gave her a sheepish look, “He’s grounded.”

  “What?” She glanced through the open slider at the three men out on the deck. One of them had his back to the screen, his legs opened in a wide stance. She’d always hated the way he stood, almost as much as she hated him. Oh, right, she’d told St. John she didn’t hate; she loathed. Well, then, she absolutely, with every cell in her body and every fiber of her hair, loathed the misogynistic, pretentious asshole who had his back against the screen.

  The kids bunched together around her, and she said, “Sorry, brain fog. Kevin, run upstairs for me, please, and tell Chad he’s not grounded and can come down, and then take the kids and play in the game room. Play pool, ping-pong, whatever, but no more television. Got it?”

  They took off in the direction of the basement door, Kevin cutting to the right while she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. “Hey, guys,” she said through the screen door. “What are you all doing back so early?”

  Howard and Jeff cast their eyes to Justin before saying hello. Justin finished the beer bottle in his hand, placed it on the deck table, and opened the door to step inside. He took her by the arm and pulled her into the kitchen. “Where’ve you been?”

  Footsteps clomped down the staircase, and Chad ran into the room. “Mama, you’re home.” He flung his arms around Shannon’s legs. “May I go play in the basement?”

  “Of course, sweetie. Go have fun.”

  “Don’t you dare move,” Justin said. “He’s grounded.”

  Shannon stepped around Justin and scooted Chad along. “Go ahead, sweetie.” To Justin, she said, “Can’t you, for one day, stop being a bully?”

  Justin folded his arms and jutted his chin forward. “I asked you where you were.”