Rock Bottom

by K. Webster

  “Did you hear that?” a voice from somewhere in the kitchen hisses.

  Nora and I freeze. Her eyes widen in horror.

  “I heard it too,” a squeaky female agrees. “So help me if the zombie apocalypse has started. Don’t eat me if you turn first.”

  Nora and I burst out laughing, only managing to bust ourselves. Seconds later, two women dressed in business suits stand over us, hands on their hips.

  “Wait. Is that Donnie from The Aces?” the squeaky one squeals.

  Nora slides off my body and quickly stands. I awkwardly climb to my feet while trying to wish away my morning wood. No such luck though. The squeaky one’s eyes trail down my body and land right on my flagpole.

  “Holy shit!” she gasps and fans herself.

  Nora snaps her head to see what the woman is looking at and steps in front of me to block the free peep show. When the other woman begins to raise her phone, Nora’s finger is in her face in a flash.

  “Take one picture and that little phone of yours will be meeting an early death.” She’s feisty as hell as she delivers her threat.

  “Whoa there, Momma Bear. Retract the claws,” I laugh.

  Nora continues to glare at the woman until she drops her hand. Sliding her hand into mine, she pulls me away from the gawking ladies and out of the breakroom.

  “People are so fucking pathetic,” she growls. Yep, still in Momma Bear form.

  She guides me to the elevators and pushes the button to go down. I squeeze her hand. I’m not sure how I got myself into this position—me with Nora, spending the night on the floor in a law firm breakroom—but I don’t care. She’s a breath of fresh air, and I’m desperate to hold on to her. We step into the elevator and she mashes the button to take us to the ground floor. We’re both quiet, but our hands remain conjoined. When the doors open to the parking garage, we step out and stop.

  She turns to face me. “I need to get home and get ready before work. I’ll be late as it is.”

  My heart is already racing. I can’t let go of her. Not yet.

  “Call in sick. You look sick. You should see your hair. Your hair is definitely fucking sick,” I tease. But even though I’m joking with her, I’m about to go batshit crazy. I just fucking found her. There’s no way in hell I can lose her again.

  Instead of laughing with me, she narrows her eyes. Shit. Here’s where she does that thing where she truly looks at me. I can tell she can sense the desperation in my voice. She raises her hand to her mouth with a mischievous glint to her eyes and coughs. Not just a small, dainty cough, but a hoarse, horrible sounding cough.

  “Oh, I’m sick for sure. But take back that comment about my hair—it’s cute,” she tells me, scrunching up her nose.

  A huge grin spreads across my face. “No, babe, it’s pretty awful,” I joke and ruffle it to make it even messier.

  “Fine,” she pouts. “Take me home so I can shower and change clothes. I’ll call in along the way.”

  My relief is palpable now that I know she’s going to spend more time with me. For the first time since we’ve met, I’m not on a single drug or fucked up on alcohol. The fog that usually takes up permanent residence in my head has lifted. When I look down at her, there’s sunshine in her eyes, chasing away the dark cloud that always follows me.

  “What do you get here?” she asks as she looks at the menu.

  I took her to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant I attempted to go with Kenny to yesterday. Speaking of Kenny, I had more missed calls than I care to think about from everyone I know when I plugged in my dead phone at Nora’s. Even Ryan and June had tried to call me. Instead of calling them all back, I texted Kenny and told him that I was okay. I know he was pissed, but he just asked that I call him when I could.

  “I like the Denver omelet. June’s favorite is the French toast,” I tell her, pointing them out on the menu. Nonchalantly, I slide my arm over the back of the booth behind her like a teenager. I expect her to scoff at me, but she just snuggles against me. My heart fucking soars.

  She continues reading through the menu while I inhale her lovely scent. This morning, she took me back to her apartment and made me sit in the living room while she showered. I was thankful, though, when she lent me a toothbrush. Now, she smells like a fruity shampoo and soap. When she came back into the living room with her wet hair twisted in a bun, wearing tight, ass-hugging jeans and a black, fitted, long-sleeved, thermal shirt, I wanted to pounce on her.

  “The Spanish omelet sounds good. What are you having?” she finally asks, looking up at me.

  My eyes devour every feature of her clean face. Her brown eyes are peering innocently at me. But the thoughts running through my head are far from innocent. I want to kiss every inch of her smooth skin. She must sense my unmasked desire for her because she licks her lips nervously. It only serves to drive me that much crazier. I need her so fucking badly.

  “I’m having pancakes.”

  She frowns. “But you said the Denver omelet was your favorite.”

  I dip my head so that my mouth is incredibly close to hers. “I changed my mind. Right now, I’m craving something sweet.” I can’t help my low, gruff tone. Honestly, I could give two fucks about pancakes right now—what I want is much sweeter.

  A seductive smile curves upon her lips—much like the one she had on stage a couple of nights ago. “I’m craving some thick, juicy sausage.”

  I growl as I slide my fingers into her hair, holding her in place while I drop my face closer to hers. When her lips part and the smell of toothpaste invades my senses, I seize her mouth with mine. A groan escapes me as I taste her for the first time. Her sweet tongue greedily dances with mine, just as eager to taste me. Our breaths come out as ragged pants while we both discover the other’s mouth. My cock springs to life when her small hand slides up my neck. Kissing her will never be enough. I’ll always need more with her.

  Finally, she pulls away from me and eyes me dreamily. I’ve seen this look before. It’s the same look June gives Bobby. The same fucking look Ryan gives Chaz.

  “You weren’t talking about breakfast, were you?” I question with my eyebrow quirked up.

  Her lips spread into a wicked smile—a smile I can’t wait to see as she rides my cock. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I’m about to kiss those swollen, sassy lips again when the server clears his throat. “What can I get you two for breakfast?”

  “I’ll have the Spanish omelet,” she says at exactly the same time that I tell him, “the Denver omelet.”

  Her eyebrow arches when she realizes the only sweet thing I want is her, not pancakes.

  And my girl is naughty because even though she ordered an omelet, the mischievous glint in her eyes tells me she wants my thick, juicy sausage.

  “Where are we going?” she asks as she looks out the window.

  I’m not taking her back to her apartment. She’s coming home with me. End of discussion.

  “It’s a surprise,” I tease.

  She turns to me and smiles so brightly that I feel like I might burn. “Donnie, I love surprises.”

  Guilt consumes me. Here I have the perfect fucking girl now threading her fingers with mine and all I can think about is getting her into my bed. I’m a fucking asshole. Now, as I drive, I rattle my brain to come up with something clever and quick.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, obviously sensing my sudden mood change.

  I flash her a confident smile. “Perfect.”

  She frowns, busting me, before turning her attention back out the window. As much as I want to show her body how much I want her, I feel like it will take more with this girl. She deserves so much fucking more.

  When I see a sign for miniature golf, I whip across traffic and bounce a little too quickly into the parking lot. After I find a spot and shut off the car, she faces me with questioning eyes.

  “This was a surprise for you too, huh?” she laughs.

  I smile sheepishly, having been caught in my lie. Inst
ead of addressing the awkward notion that I was really just taking her home to fuck her brains out, I deflect in normal Donnie style.

  “You ready to get your ass kicked, Stormy?”

  She playfully punches my shoulder. “Call me Stormy again and I’ll start calling you Donald.”

  The mention of my real name reminds me of my father and I wince. I’ve ignored his incessant calling, but I know I’ll have to face the music eventually. I struggle to force thoughts of him away so I can focus on her but no matter how hard I try to mask my emotions, she sees. She always fucking sees. Her lips form in a small pout. Again, to skirt the issue, I joke with her.

  “I prefer ‘lady’ anyhow. Can I call you ‘lovely lady’?” I wag my eyebrows at her.

  She laughs and I can see that she’s relieved that my mood has gone in a better direction. “Only if I can call you ‘sexy sir,’” she purrs before stepping out of the car, leaving me behind.

  Of course, I scramble out of the car to go after her. This girl? I’ll always chase after her.

  We’ve played sixteen holes, and Donnie’s kicking my ass—as he promised. It’s nearing lunch time and the sun’s blazing—just like ol’ Stormy guaranteed to deliver. The grin that’s been plastered on my face ever since they handed us our golf balls and clubs has yet to subside. When I watch him bend over and carefully line up his shot like he’s in the final round of the Masters, I laugh.

  “Go, Tiger Woods!” I shout just as he swings, hoping to distract him. When the ball swerves to the left, I squeal with happiness at my success in throwing him off his game.

  “You’re a big cheat, little lady,” he growls, storming over to me.

  I hold my club up like I’m going to swing at him, but he charges quickly and wraps his arms around my waist. Any fight I had in me fizzles out. Now that he’s touching me¸ I melt against him.

  “What are you going to do about it?” I taunt.

  His face is close to mine, so I eye those delicious lips of his. He bypasses my lips, though, and brings his mouth to my ear. Hot breath tickles me and sends shivers down my body.

  “I think I may have to punish you, naughty girl.”

  When he sucks on the lobe of my ear, a whimper escapes me. “How?”

  He gently bites down. “With my teeth.”

  Another whimper.

  Then his hands slide down to my ass. “With my hands.”

  The needy, little sounds coming out of me are almost embarrassing.

  When his tongue slides down the curve of my neck, I tremble. “With my tongue.”

  “Donnie,” I half-moan, half-beg.

  He brings his mouth back to mine and slams his lips against me, devouring every last inch of my mouth. But I’m not a simple woman who gets kissed by the handsome man. No. I’m the kind of lady who grabs on to the hair of her guy and kisses him with everything she has. We’re both gasping for air by the time we break apart.

  “Who are you and how in the hell did I get lucky enough for you to come into my life?” he asks seriously with narrowed eyes.

  I smile at him. “Maybe it wasn’t you—the lucky one. Maybe it was me.”

  His eyes darken and the playful, romantic Donnie is gone. A dark cloud descends upon him, and I instantly not only recognize it but hate it.

  “You deserve better.”

  Pushing away, I glare up at him. “That mentality”—I point toward his head—“needs to go. I do deserve the best.”

  His brows bunch together in confusion.

  “You, sir, are the best. Now get it through your thick skull,” I order.

  I watch his eyes as he internally wars with my words. Eventually, he masks away his self-doubt and pulls out ol’ faithful—jokes.

  “I’ll show you thick, little lady.”

  With every ounce of my being, I want to thread my fingers in his hair and give him a good shaking. But instead, I humor him with teasing him back. “Did I ever tell you I’m a vegetarian? So, sausage? Um, yeah. Not a fan.”

  His laughter is music to my ears as he pounces on me and squeezes me to him. I know that his hug should be a simple hug, but there’s so much meaning wrapped up in it. He doesn’t verbally say it, but I can feel him thanking me. For what? I have no clue. But whatever it is, I’ll try my damnedest to keep making it happen.

  Without missing a beat, he buries his lips in my hair near my ear and says, “I hope you like cucumber—the big, oversized, thick, delicious variety.”

  Heart.

  Officially.

  Stopped.

  “Want to bail?” I ask seductively, “I’m suddenly feeling very hungry.”

  He groans and I feel him harden between us. “Me too, little lady. I’m afraid I’m ravenous and could eat for hours.”

  I close my eyes to allow myself the hottest freaking vision of him “eating.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “I think you’re drooling,” he finally laughs after my pregnant pause.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” I tell him saucily. “I was drooling because I desperately want a Popsicle. My poor little tongue just craves to lick something. If I had one right now, I’d taste every inch from the bottom to the top. Once I got to the top, I would be greedy and want the whole thing in my mouth. My lips would slowly descend all the way down until I’d fully taken the entire thing. Hmmm, I hope I don’t gag on it, because it would be so tasty. Ooh, I wonder if it has one of those creamy centers.”

  I giggle when he grabs both of my shoulders and pushes away to look at me. “You’re fucking crazy. You know that, right?”

  “I may or may not have been told that a time or two,” I giggle.

  His eyes become serious. “I want you, Nora. Not just in my bed.”

  The idea of me in his bed, this time undressed, sends a thrill through my body. “I want you too, Donnie.”

  His lips crash to mine, and I hate the fact that we’re in public at the moment because every single part of me wants to strip down and have sex with this man right here on the Astroturf.

  I cry out against his lips as his hands urgently slide down my back and squeeze my ass. “Donnie, let’s get out of here,” I moan into his mouth.

  He pulls away with a boyish glint in his eyes—a glint that I’ve yet to see thus far but am already in love with. “I want to take you somewhere special. We’ll grab burgers along the way.”

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” I tell him as I sip my chocolate shake and eye the ‘No Trespassing’ sign on the fence through the windshield. He was in such a hurry to get me here that we had to eat in the car. I’m curious as to why this place is so special.

  He turns his head to look at me and grins. “So you’re a good girl. I guess I’ll have fun teaching you how to be bad.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Lead the way, bad boy.”

  He reaches behind my seat and fetches two sets of drumsticks. “Here. You’ll need these,” he instructs, handing me one set.

  I raise my eyebrows in question, but he’s already bounding out of the car before I can inquire about what the hell we are doing.

  Once I’m out of the car, he comes around to my side and takes my hand. Together, we walk along the fence line until we find a place where it’s been cut open by wire cutters and curled back.

  “Crawl through that hole,” he orders.

  This time, I point my drumsticks at him. “Where are we going? I’m not crawling through that rust trap until you tell me.”

  “Shit, woman. I’m trying to surprise you. But since you must know, I’m taking you to a storm water drainage site.”

  I furrow my brows at him. “Donnie, that doesn’t sound safe.”

  This time, he’s the one rolling his eyes at me. “Don’t be a sissy, little lady. Why don’t you call your dad and ask him the last time it rained? I can assure you it will be dry as the dirt you’re standing on. We’ll be safe. Now, get your skinny ass through that hole.”

  I swing my drumstic
ks at him but he hops effortlessly out of the way. He grabs hold of the chain link fence and pries it up so I can get through. Awkwardly, I shimmy through the hole and breathe a sigh of relief when I make it through to the other side unscathed. I watch in awe as he slides through the hole like he’s been doing it his whole life. Maybe he has.

  “Now what, Clyde?” I tease.

  He grins and takes my hand. “Well, Bonnie, I’m about to show you one of my old stomping grounds. The guys and I would always come out here when we were younger and make all kinds of racket. I’ve been wanting to come back here for a while, but I’ve just been too busy.”

  We walk carefully down the steep concrete incline that descends into the dry—like he promised—drainage ditch. He guides me around old tires, beer cans, and other trash toward a dark opening of a tunnel. My heart jumps in my throat because I’m slightly terrified.

  “We’re not going in there, are we?” I hiss as I slow my step and pull back on his hand.

  I watch a lot of zombie shows—kind of my thing—and this creepy place is exactly where those things would hide if they were real. A shudder races down my spine.

  Stopping, he turns to frown at me. “Nora, I would never hurt you. I promise. It looks more menacing than it actually is. We’ll have fun.”

  As he squeezes my hand, the nervousness subsides. We march along until we make it to the entrance.

  When he goes to pull me into the darkness, I once again put on the brakes. “I’m scared, Donnie.” A shiver courses through my body as I eye the inside of the tunnel warily. Fuck, I really need to stop watching scary-ass zombie crap.

  He faces me and dips his head down to mine. As his lips brush against mine, the fear is quickly replaced by the heat that is created whenever I’m near this man. His kiss is soft and reassuring. When he finally drags himself away, I know I’ll follow him wherever he wants me to go—even into zombie hell.

  “Fine. We can go, but I’m totally not having sex in there,” I grumble in mock annoyance.