by K. L. Savage
“That can be arranged,” I sneer, stabbing my fork into my steak so hard, a river of red flows from it.
“I’m sure it isn’t going to be easy for her. She’s going to need support. We need to make sure we are there for her. This is her home now unless she says otherwise. And no one touches her,” Mercy shouts so everyone can hear, but his eyes are focused on me.
“I wouldn’t touch her unless she wanted me to,” I hiss, offended that he would think such a thing.
“Even if she did, she might be thinking it is what she really wants but it isn’t. You need to be the smarter one in this situation, Whistler.”
“I know that. That’s all I’ve been thinking about, okay? This type of situation isn’t new to me. Remember, my sister is here for the same damn reason.”
“There’s a big difference between the two. You want Charlie, I see it every time you look at her. Want can make you tease a very fine line of what’s right and what you should do.”
“I’m leaving,” I slide my plate to One. “You can finish it.”
One gets up so I can leave, and Mercy lifts a brow at me. “I’m not meaning to piss you off. I’m telling you the harsh truths.”
I slam my fist on the table. “I know the fucking harsh truths. I don’t need to hear them.” I snag my coffee cup and top it off, then grab the lonely bottle of Jameson sitting on top of the microwave and pour a hefty amount in the mug. “Have a great fucking night everyone.” I lift my cup in the air and kick the door open with the steal-toe of my boot.
The warmth of the coffee and the burn of the whiskey go together perfectly for a nightcap. I’m going to finish this, take a hot shower, and climb into that recliner.
First, I slither through the tables and go out the back door and search for my bike. When I see her next to One’s, I drag my feet toward her while thinking about Mercy’s words. I’m so fucking pissed. Not at him, but at the damn truth.
It’s something I’ve told myself a hundred times but hearing it is like a gunshot to the damn chest.
I dig through my saddlebags until I find my plastic bag of spare clothes and toiletries. “Fucking idiot,” I say, feeling sorry for myself.
I always want the ones that can’t want me back.
The gravel crunches under my boots as I go inside and make my way through the bar and up the stairs. I’m finishing the cup of coffee and the taste of whiskey is on my tongue. The floorboards groan under me as I tiptoe into the bedroom. The bottom of the mug clinks against the dresser as I set it down gently.
Charlie has turned the other way and is bundled up in the comforter like a burrito. I’m not able to take my eyes off her. I trail my fingers along the bedpost as I mindlessly walk to the bathroom attached to the room.
Before I shut the door, I check on her one last time. Then I lock the knob just in case she hears me and feels the need to kill me.
Can’t be too safe.
I flop my back against the door and press the palm of my hands against my eyes, wishing I was the kind of man that didn’t make everyone else’s business his own. My life would be simpler, but probably not as fulfilled.
Tossing the plastic bag on the toilet seat, I grip the edge of the counter and lift my head to stare at my tired reflection. Bloodshot eyes, dark circles. I haven’t shaved, but the short beard is a look. I might keep it, I think to myself as I run my palms over the stubble.
Fuck, I don’t even have the energy to get undressed, but I have to. I need to shower. My fingers can hardly grip the laces as my eyes begin to hood, but I manage to untie them and kick my boots off. I reach behind my neck and grab the collar of my shirt, tugging it over my head and onto the floor. My pants are next, my flaccid cock hitting the side of my thigh since I’m not wearing any underwear.
I don’t like how constricting they are around me.
The shower stall is glass with a gold handle, and I have to put a bit of my weight into it to get it open. I step inside and that’s when I notice the floor. It’s copper. I squint my eyes to get a better look at it, then peek my head out of the door to see that the entire floor is made up of pennies.
That’s really fucking cool and creative. I would have never thought about doing that, but now I want it in my room once I have one.
There isn’t a regular faucet for the shower. There’s a touch screen against the wall and the showerhead is in the middle of the ceiling above me. It’s wide and long enough to shower two or three of me. There’s also a claw foot tub in the corner. Mercy obviously didn’t spare any expenses since it’s large enough for a football player.
The hot water cascades down over my head, soaking my hair instantly. I groan as my muscles relax and the pressure beats against my neck. Oh my god, I never want to leave this shower stall.
I place my palms on the wall and hang my head, enjoying the near burn of the water. I stretch my neck and close my eyes, thinking about the day, thinking about everything. I thought I’d be in a different spot in my life. Honestly, I thought I’d have a few kids and a woman to love, but right now, I’m just another biker coasting through life and being there for everyone else.
Damn it, is it so wrong to want someone to be there for me?
A forbidden image of Charlie enters my mind, a thought I shouldn’t have. But the more I try to deny her, the more I think about her. My cock hardens imagining her body sprawled out on the bed, her pale skin covered in freckles in all the right places for me to kiss.
One on her shoulder.
Two between her breasts.
And if I’m lucky three on her inner thigh.
I’ll kiss every single one I come across until she’s panting and arching her back, begging me for relief.
I reach for my cock and second guess myself. Do I really want to do this?
My hand creates a tight vise and I throw my head back, a low deep note echoing off the bathroom walls. Fuck yes, I want to do this, and my thoughts are my own, that’s all that matters. No one needs to know how much I want Charlie.
Especially Charlie.
I stroke myself hard and fast, similar to how I like to fuck and moan again, slipping my thumb over the tip. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten off and it’s time to change that.
“Charlie,” I whisper a bit loudly and pinch my lips together to keep from slipping again. I want to chant her name into her ear and let her know how good she feels around me. She’ll be stretched to the brink, stuffed full of me, and dying for release.
“Damn it. Fuck, oh that’s it. Fuck yes,” I pant, staring down at my throbbing cock. It’s red, the vein protruding as the blood rushes into my shaft, stretching the muscle as large as it can go.
The whimpers and pleas that will leave her lips will set me on fire and I’ll pound ruthlessly into her tight heat, claiming it as mine, showing her how good she’s supposed to feel. She’ll come around my cock and I’ll thrust and bury myself to the hilt, coming at the same time she does.
I pound my fist against the wall as my orgasm slams into me. I paint the wall with thick white streams, taking a deep breath as I whimper from the sensitivity.
The intensity of the orgasm only lasts a second before the empty feeling inside my chest returns. I guess that’s all I’ll ever have, moments of short-lived pleasure before reality sets in.
Pleasure is always short-lived; it’s love that lasts a lifetime.
I roll over in bed and the sun peeking in from the blinds sears the inside of my eyes, causing me to flip over again. This bed is so comfortable, so soft, and I have room to stretch out since I have the bed all to myself.
My eyes snap open at the thought.
I have a bed all to myself…
Oh god.
I’m locked in a room again. I’m in trouble. I begin to breathe hard and touch areas of my body to see what hurts, but when I don’t feel any too alarming, I become confused. “Wha—What is going on?” I whisper to myself and finally take a look around the room.
I’m not home.
I don’t know where I am and I know I should be scared, but all I feel is thankful. I haven’t slept so well in so long and I think it’s because I’m always scared to close my eyes. I never know what Kenneth will do to me.
My neck throbs at the reminder and I touch the spot where he choked me.
I gasp when I remember what I did.
I bought a gun.
I was going to shoot him, but I decided to kill myself instead.
Oh, God.
I cover my face with my hands as my emotions hit me all over again. I almost ended my life because of Kenneth. I can’t believe I sank so low for me to get to that point. I let Kenneth’s venom poison my mind.
“Hey,” a soft, yet deep and tired voice has me turning my head and dropping my hands from my face.
“Wesley?” I say his name instead of his road name, I don’t know why. It feels more intimate after he saw me at my worst.
“I’m here. I said you wouldn’t be alone.” The bed dips from his weight and he tugs my hand gently to pull me closer. I don’t fight him. For some reason I can’t seem to understand right now, I go willingly and wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re okay, Cupcake. You’re okay,” he coos into my ear, the rumble of his voice vibrating against my chest.
“It happened? It really happened?” I ask him, pulling away so I can see his face.
God, he is handsome. I know I shouldn’t think like that, but he is. I’d give anything to run my fingers through his messy bed hair or stroke the whiskers across his cheek. He has full, plump lips and the top one is defined, a natural line outlining the shape. His nose is straight and not too big and his eyes, his eyes are what have me rethinking about how my life could have been. They are a rich brown with shades of gold and flecks of garnet.
“It did, but I don’t want you to be embarrassed about it, okay? We all have our moments of weakness. I know you’re going to feel guilty and nothing I say is going to change that. Only time and forgiveness for yourself. I got there in time and that is all that matters.” He wipes a tear from my cheek with the wide pad of his thumb and it’s been so long since I’ve been touched delicately that I lean into his hand.
He spreads his palm over the left side of my jaw and swipes his thumb back and forth. I break a little inside because I shouldn’t want this, but the touch is appeasing the desperate need I have to be cared for. My shoulders slump and it’s hard not to cry again, not to lose control, but this time it’s because I know what a kind touch feels like. Whistler will never know how much it means to me.
He doesn’t make a move. He doesn’t try anything. He just simply…holds me without making it complicated. A friend, if I had any, would do the same. My mom would do the same.
Granted, they didn’t make my heart race with desire.
And that scares me too.
I’ve learned desire means nothing, it’s who someone is on the inside that means everything.
Monsters swim inside everyone’s veins, some better at staying near the soul while others push against the surface.
What kind of monster is Whistler?
I don’t care what anyone says.
We’re all monsters in some way.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks with a tight, crooked smile. “I’ll never lay a hand on you unless it’s like this, Cupcake.”
“Why do I believe you?” My eyes water at the truth and I slightly hate myself for it. “I don’t want to believe you. You have no idea how much I don’t want to. I want to hate you. I want to hate every man I ever see.”
“You can hate me all you want until it makes you feel better. It won’t bother me to be your steppingstone, Charlie.”
“But I don’t hate you. I want to, but I can’t.” I press my hand over his and rub my cheek on his palm. “Just like I couldn’t kill Kenneth. If I hate anyone, I hate myself.”
He skims his fingers down my face until he slips them under my chin to lift my head. “If there is one person you should love, it’s yourself. I know there are a lot of toxins to work through and you can do that here. Safely. He’s done a lot of damage here.” He taps the side of my temple. “And here.” Whistler pokes my chest where my heart is. “Those scars are the worst, but one day, you’re going to allow me to help them heal.”
“Why?” I ask, not understanding why he would want anything to do with me.
“You’ll see.” He stands from the bed and stretches his arms over his head. The sweatpants he has on are grey and they hang low on his hips, showing an Adonis belt that I’ve never seen before. I shouldn’t be looking, but the way his shirt lifts up to show his tan abdomen is hard not to notice.
I glance away and wrap my arms around my waist, then take another peek through my lashes. He has turned and the greys sweatpants mold around him. I gasp out loud, and quickly look away.
The outline of his cock is visible. I can see…everything. The material is tight over his bulge and the length and width is impressive. My face flames and he turns around to give me his back, which isn’t better because I get a view of his ass.
I never thought an ass on a man was something I liked, but his is firm and perky, like he does a lot of squats, but it isn’t big or round. It’s just right.
What am I doing?
Yes, Whistler is a beautiful, and so far, a kind man. It’s okay to admit that. There. The truth is out in the open in my mind. I’ve recognized it and now I can move on from it. Plus, the thought of wanting him, while exciting, is too much for me to think about right now. How I feel around him is overwhelming and I can’t tell if it is a good thing or a bad thing.
“Here. I know they aren’t your size since they are my clothes. They are going to be huge on you, but I figured getting out of that outfit and a nice hot shower will make you feel better. Or a bath. There’s an awesome tub in the bathroom.” He points toward the door on the left side of the wall across from me. “I had One, my best friend, run and grab a suitcase for me of my clothes. I’ll be staying here with you to make sure you’re okay. I’ll be right on the recliner.”
I take the clothes he is holding out and place them in my lap. “You don’t have to do that.” As I shake my head and look down at the clothes, my hair falls, acting as a veil to hide my face. “I’m sure you have more important things to do. I don’t need to be babysat. I’m in enough trouble as is. Kenneth is going—”
“—You aren’t going back to Kenneth. Not ever.” He raises his voice and I flinch, automatically rearing back to get hit. “Hey, Cupcake. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at him and like I said, I’m not ever going to hurt you, I know it will take time to believe. Go shower and then come downstairs. I’m making you breakfast and then we have a lot to talk about. It has to do with Kenneth.”
I nod. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll be down soon. Thank you for this, for saving me, for being there when no one else was. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“You already have, Cupcake.”
Whistler disappears out of the door, and I’m left alone in the big, empty room. I lift my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them while looking back and forth across the room. The air in the room feels different now that Whistler isn’t in here.
It’s colder and daunting like the walls are about to swallow me whole. I inhale and exhale as I try to relax. Slowing down the negative thoughts is easier here than it was at the house with Kenneth. “I’m okay here. I’m okay. You aren’t with Kenneth. You’re safe.” Whistler said I was safe, and I’m going to do something crazy.
I’m going to take a leap of faith and believe him.
I hold the clothes to my chest as I roll off the bed and scurry to the bathroom. I flip the light on, but it’s so bright, I turn the dial on the wall and the lights dim immediately. The soft glow calms me, and the tub does look inviting, but I want to shower quickly to find out what Whistler has to talk to me about.
The floor is made of pennies, a design I’ve only seen in videos, and the counter is granite. I run my hands along the polis
hed black and grey top. It’s a woman’s dream bathroom. The square mirror hangs above the sink with a copper frame to match the floor and I wince when I see my reflection.
There are no new bruises, but I look like I’ve been to hell and back with the top down in the car.
I can’t believe Whistler has seen me like this. If he would have been Kenneth, I would have gotten punished for looking so rough and unkept.
He isn’t here, so I don’t have to worry about that. “Deep breath in and out,” I try to calm my racing heart again.
Maybe this is the chance I’ve been waiting for. This is what I needed to get away from Kenneth. I never have to feel his fist against my face again.
I’m almost free.
I smile at the thought and quickly undress, then hop in the shower. The touchscreen is new to me, but it doesn’t take me long to figure out. A few taps and the shower turns on. I’m even able to pick the temperature I want the water to be.
Scalding, please. Until my skin melts off, thanks.
I like for my body to be bright pink and hot to the touch when I get out of the shower. I stay warmer longer when the air hits me and threatens to ruin it.
As I clean my body, I notice yellow bruises, which means my body is healing. And what’s better is that the only new bruise I have is the one around my neck from when he choked me. I almost want to celebrate.
After rinsing my body off, I wash my hair with shampoo that smells like strawberries. I inhale deeply, loving the new scent over the coconut Kenneth made me use. I scrub my scalp and rinse, then just stand under the waterfall and tilt my head back.
I’m in paradise.
I close my eyes and begin to replay the dream I have.
My toes are in the sand. The sun is hot against my skin. The waves are crashing loudly in the distance and people are laughing with friends. I’m with friends too. None of them have faces I can describe, but I’m not alone.
A few guys walk by with surfboards and one winks at me, but a hand squeezing my ass and a loud growl has them scurrying away toward the water.
