Ruck Me: A Play On series short

by Cd Brennan

  Maybe if he relaxed, she could to. Although she didn’t look scared. If anything, she was as confident as she was getting on a bus with a butt load of people she didn’t know who knew each other. He took the whiskey and poured it into one of the plastic cups that had been wrapped in a cellophane. Southern Comfort. Not one of his favorites, but it would do. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the stress.

  An awkwardness hung in the room like a heavy fog, and the longer she went without speaking to him, the smaller the room got.

  Before he settled on the bed, he kicked off his shoes. He grabbed the clicker and turned on the TV. “Do you mind if I sit here? When you’re ready to sleep, just say, and I’ll get off.”

  “You don’t have to. You’re paying.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, something that impressed Dave since he was an index finger typer himself. It took him forever just to reply to emails.

  “Nah, I can’t let you do that.” He shifted his attention to the TV where an old 80s movie was on. Mad Max—a frickin’ good movie. But Fury Road was better. Maybe. There was something about the first one, the original concept, a vision by the director with Mel Gibson, Tina Turner, and all the Australian accents. It was one of a kind.

  She got up from the chair and stretched. He couldn’t help himself and watched out of the corner of his eye as her jacket and shirt rose above her waistline to show a pierced belly button. Dave didn’t swear often, but the sight of the little silver hoop through her creamy flesh had him burning the F-word on the end of his tongue.

  “I rented a car for tomorrow,” she said as she sat at the end of the bed.

  “Already?”

  “Yep, did it online. Paid for and everything.”

  Which was interesting, because fifteen minutes ago, she couldn’t afford a motel room. “That’s great, but where do we pick it up? We have to figure out how we are going to get there.”

  “The rental place is just on the outskirts of Indie, this side of the city. We can hitch a ride from one of the trucks that stop across the road.”

  He’d never hitched before in his life. “Not sure that’s a great idea. I can get a taxi to take us over.”

  “I’ve done it plenty. It’s no biggie. I’ve got mace and you’re a big guy. They won’t mess with us.”

  And just like that she had sorted their remaining problem. The scene on the television glitched behind her. “Listen,” she said, “I really don’t mind waiting over at the truck stop with a cup of coffee.” She had yet to take off her coat and boots, and Dave knew what was coming.

  “But I mind. I don’t like the idea of you being over there on your own with any pervs hanging around.”

  She flipped her hair back from her face. “Versus being in a motel room with a very large perv?”

  “I’m not— I wouldn’t—”

  “Of course, you wouldn’t.”

  Well, unless she wanted him to. He sipped on his whiskey to bite his tongue. “Listen, you are Dick’s sister, and the Blues look after each other, including their families. Not only would I feel like shit if anything happened to you, but Dick would kill me. If you go back over there, then I will, too.”

  As if resigned, she took off her boots. She threw them in a pile next to the small trash bin beside the cabinet. “Dick wouldn’t give a shit.”

  Well, hell, what did he say to that? Other than Dick was an ass.

  She stood and took off her coat. Underneath, she had on a snug V-neck long-sleeve shirt with the first couple buttons undone. When she tossed it onto the other chair by the desk, he could see the rise of her breasts, the lace of her bra. Phew.

  Dave took another large swallow of the whiskey. He was growing hard, but how did he adjust without her noticing? He didn’t, so he sat there, becoming more uncomfortable by the moment.

  She walked to the mini-fridge and pulled out a small bottle of wine. She must have changed her mind. She eyed it briefly before she unscrewed the cap and drank right from the bottle. She set it down, half empty, and walked into the bathroom.

  As soon as the door closed, he adjusted himself, took off his fleece, and casually placed it over his crotch. It had only been five minutes when he heard the door open and she stepped out. He let out a big breath. Holy F-word. He swallowed hard. She was only in white and pink striped panties and a white singlet, her breasts free from a bra. And without a sleeve, Dave could see a badass tattoo circling her left bicep. It was a thorny vine with closed rose buds, not one of them open.

  She placed her other clothes in the same pile by the wastebasket and walked over to her side of the bed and slipped in without saying a word. She had scrubbed the makeup from her face so she was all natural. She was striking with it on, but she was beautiful without.

  She reached over to the light switch and flicked it off. The room went dark except the flicker of the TV. Mad Max completely forgotten, Dave counted to himself to keep his dick down.

  It didn’t help. He swallowed down the last of his whiskey in one gulp. It burned all the way to his stomach. “I guess I’ll get ready for bed then.”

  “Go for it.” She was tucked under the covers except her arms and, without asking, picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels.

  Keeping his fleece over his groin, he slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom quick. The light was an overhead fluorescent and harsh when he turned it on. He still had his toothbrush and paste in a little Ziploc baggie and thought to offer it to Sierra as well, but then discarded the notion. He barely knew her, and that was weird.

  But was it any stranger than seeing her practically naked? He rested his locked arms on the sink and stared at his own face until his boner receded. A little. He wasn’t the most attractive man in the world. He knew that. He’d been playing rugby since middle school. His hands were like hammer heads. His cauliflower ears stuck out. His forehead was too pronounced, his brow too heavy.

  He ran his hand through his hair to try to fix it, but then pounded the sink with one fist. What was he doing? Sierra was Dick’s sister. His sister! Same crazy genes, had to be. And she was too much of a looker for the likes of him. He preferred long-term relationships to flings. Never had one, in fact.

  When he went to take a piss, his cock jutted out at the freedom. It was painful as he pushed it down to make the bowl underneath him. Damn. He undressed quickly to his boxer briefs and left his folded clothes on the edge of the bath. He brushed his teeth for three minutes and then took a deep breath before he opened the door.

  The TV was off, the room dark except for the light spilling from the bathroom. Well, that said enough right there. He turned off the light and felt his way around to the far side of the bed, bumping his leg once.

  He didn’t want to presume so he laid down on top of the covers, steadied his breathing as he stared out into the darkness. He wasn’t tired. Perhaps it was from the nap earlier on the bus, or maybe he was all jacked up because he was sleeping, or trying to, next to a stunning woman with a better body than the girls in the Baywatch remake. The digital clock next to the bed glowed in red numbers, 1:35 a.m. He had to get to sleep.

  He had just started to drift into unconsciousness when she spoke up. “You can sleep under with me. I don’t care.”

  “You sure you won’t be bothered?”

  “No. We’re two adults. And I used to sleep with my brother all the time.”

  That was a bit odd. First, to imagine anyone sleeping with the Dickmeister, and second, that she thought of him on the same level as her brother. That sucked.

  He shimmied until he lay under the sheet and blanket, moving as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t disturb her, but with a big man comes lumbering movements, and even moving his butt on the bed felt like he was creating a bouncy castle on the mattress. When he finally stilled, he held his breath to steady his heart and then exhaled in one, long, quiet breath. He lay on his back, looking at the shadows on the ceiling.

  A car’s headlights flashed across the gap in the drapes and briefl
y illuminated the drab interior of the room. Sierra had her back to him, was lying on her side, but turned and laid so their arms touched. It was the most intimate position he’d been in for a very long time, and he shared it with a stranger. “Is this too weird for you?” His voice was loud in the room, louder than he had thought, and he cringed at the intrusion.

  “Nah. I’ve been in much worse situations.”

  He hadn’t asked her if it was bad, only if it was weird. “I would never—”

  “I know you wouldn’t. I can tell. We had enough shady characters in and out of our life, I’ve learned to read people over the years.”

  “Who is we?”

  “Dick and I.”

  “Oh, when you were younger?”

  “Yeah, and when we were older. Our whole lives. Both my mom and dad were partiers, a lot of crack and alcohol, and they always had skanks around.”

  That was shitty. Dave couldn’t imagine such a life since he had grown up in a nice home in the suburbs of Chicago with a younger sister and brother, supportive parents and grandparents.

  “Hey,” she said, almost in a whisper. “I never got your name.”

  “Huh,” Dave grunted. He’d never noticed. “David Anthony Marsden at your service.”

  “That’s cute.” There was a bit of a smile in her voice. “Sierra June Richards. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same. So…is Dick’s real name Richard?”

  “Yep.”

  That made him Richard Richards. No wonder he was messed up. With that name and crackhead parents, it’s a wonder he wasn’t in jail. And Sierra was normal, from what he knew of her at least. She must be stronger than a dying chrysanthemum, holding on no matter what her environment.

  “I know what you’re thinking…” This time, her voice was harder, an edge to it. She shifted slightly so her arm no longer touched his.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “About Dick.”

  He could lie. She didn’t need to know what he thought of her brother, but there was something about being with her here in the dark, in a motel room in the middle of nowhere, that made him want to tell her the truth. For all he knew, they could be the only ones left in the world. “Yeah, I was wondering.”

  “Dick is the only thing I have in life. I’ve taken care of him for as long as I can remember. He’s had it harder than me for sure. He got the beatings, but since I was a girl, I didn’t. Probably the only good thing about being a woman in this godforsaken life.”

  He wanted to comfort her so moved his hand until he felt hers and gave it an awkward squeeze around the fingers. Her hands were as soft as his were calloused and dry. “I’m sorry to hear.”

  “I’m not telling you for me.” She’d become angrier. “I’m telling you for Dick. Just take it easy on him, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so gruff. I’m just pissed off.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.”

  “Not at you, just the situation. Dick rarely lets me in. Hell, he doesn’t really let anyone in. But this weekend he said I could come along, and any time I get with him, I’ll take it. He’s everything to me.” Her voice cracked, but she continued. “And I saw how folks treated him on the bus. Like he’s some clown.”

  He could go soft on her, but like before, only honesty seemed to be able to exist in a dark room that smelled faintly of lemon. “How about how Dick treats others? Has to go both ways, no?”

  “Yeah, I get that, and I’m working on it. Have been for years. I just want him to be happy.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dick seemed to be a bit old to be needing direction at this point, but again, Dave didn’t have any guidelines for how they had been raised. And as disturbing as it sounded, he wanted to know more, drawn to the dark and wicked sides of their life. Why, he couldn’t fathom.

  Sierra turned again so her back was to him. Her pale shoulder rose and fell like an iceberg in the ocean. And like an iceberg, there was so much more to Sierra underneath. Her hair covered her face, her neck exposed at the back. The ridges of her spine were barely visible before it dipped beneath her tank top. “Good night,” she said.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said back to her.

  Chapter 4

  At some point in the middle of the night, Sierra had cuddled into Dave, spooning herself against the length of his body. And without much thought, he had tucked his arm around her mid-section and drawn her closer.

  And when he woke, his natural alarm clock going off at six a.m., that was where he found her still. When she snored, he chuckled, but cut it off quick so the rumbling of his chest wouldn’t wake her. Unfortunately, she stirred, stretching out her legs and rolling to her belly, her face turned toward him.

  Dammit! His one hand now rested on her back, but he would have much preferred her against him and his morning wood. Not that he could do anything about it, but it had felt nice. He sighed. They needed to get going. By the time they got a hitch, rented the car, and drove the remaining five hours to Nashville, Dave would miss half the tournament games today.

  “Sierra.”

  “Mm,” she grunted.

  “I hate to wake you, but we’ve got to go.”

  She rolled once again so that she was up on her side facing him. His hand now rested on her hip, but she didn’t say anything, only blinked herself into waking. Her hair still looked great, but now with a natural messed look that was sexy as hell. She lay with her hands under her head on the pillow, palms together as if in prayer. “What time is it?”

  Dave popped up his head and looked over her shoulder at the clock. “Six-oh-five.”

  She blew out a breath and closed her eyes again. He was loathe to leave the bed, especially with the warm, beautiful body next to him, but perhaps if he did, she would get up, too.

  As he was struggling to unwrap himself from the twisted blanket and sheet, she stopped him by putting a hand to his shoulder. He turned and looked at her. Her face was soft, her gray eyes barely visible in the shadows. She moved that same hand on his shoulder to his face where she cupped his cheek. “You’re a good man, David.”

  “Just Dave is fine.”

  “Dave,” she repeated.

  “Is this you reading people?”

  One side of her mouth ticked up. “Yep, you’re good, and that makes me sad.”

  What? “I’m not an angel or anything,” he said to make her laugh.

  But she didn’t. Instead she leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips were full and soft, and when she deepened the kiss, Dave moved his arm around her waist and gathered her in. He couldn’t believe it! What the hell did she see in him? Maybe just because he was here. He could be anyone and she was feeling frisky. Or maybe they had made a connection like he’d hoped.

  Aw, screw it. He wasn’t going to analyze it now, not with her tongue teasing his own, darting in for a quick taste, then back out again. He chased her with his own. His face was rough with beard growth, but she didn’t seem to mind as she let off a soft gasp. She did it again when he traced her leg up the back and under her underwear to squeeze her ass.

  When she rocked into him closer, he readjusted so he could move an arm under her so that she lay half on top of him, her breasts squashed into his chest. He let her lead, not knowing how far she wanted to take it, but it was hell holding back.

  She broke their kiss and propped herself up on locked arms above him. Her breasts hung under her tank. His dick was hard, his mouth dry from want. He searched her face for some clue, some indication of what she wanted him to do, but her expression still remained unreadable.

  After a moment of their gazes locked, she shifted enough to remove her tank top over her head and tossed it to the side. She took his left hand and placed it over her breast. He groaned and his eyes rolled closed at the feel. It was almost too much. It had been so long. His hands were dry and rough, as they always were, and he wondered about her tender skin, but she moved his hand over h
er tit. Dave opened his eyes, to gauge the pleasure he gave her, to increase his own by watching her. She bit her lip when his calloused palm swept over her nipple. It hardened into a peak, and he pinched gently. She groaned.

  Dave couldn’t hold back any longer and fisted the cone of her tit and leaned in and mouthed the nipple. He was so turned on he must have sucked too hard since she gasped out his name.

  “I’m sorry. Shit.”

  She stilled, her eyes angry, her brows pinched. “Don’t be. Get into it!” she commanded.

  And with that, he let himself loose. In one movement, he flipped her onto her back and hovered over her. His cock throbbed, but he needed a taste of her tits again, so perfect in their size, the nipples a light tan. He sucked the other breast and then licked the nipple until she squirmed. Her hands at his neck, she urged him on. He moved down her belly to her piercing and played with it, letting the little circle roll over his tongue while he fingered her nipples with his thumbs.

  When he couldn’t handle it any longer, he went back to her mouth hard, thrusting his tongue in like he wanted to be doing with his cock, and then moved and settled between her thighs.

  He humped her crotch, giving his cock some relief, rubbing his length against her clit. Her hands were on his ass, pulling him in tight as he rolled his hips into her again and again. Dammit, he’d come soon dry humping her like this.

  When she started tugging at his briefs, he turned to the side to chuck them off while she did the same with hers, wiggling them down her legs and kicking them off, her toes painted the same red as her lips were yesterday.

  His dick was hot and heavy on his hip, but the sight of her made him pause. She was bare down there, no hair at all, her mound perfect and ripe, her lips pink and wet. He’d never seen the like before.

  He placed his palm over her mound, so soft, and then drew his middle finger between her slit. She was wet, and for him. His cock twitched. He used her juices to rub up and around her clit, circling, then back down again. She opened her legs and groaned, “Oh, God, that’s good.”