by Carian Cole
“Take your coat off,” he commands as he quickly pulls his thick sweatshirt up over his head.
It worked. I flipped the switch.
Forcing myself to ignore the cold, I take off all my clothes and kneel in front of him, goosebumps pebbling my flesh. His eyes drink me in, and he cups my breasts in his hands, chafing his palms against my nipples that are already peaked from the assault of cold air.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ladybug,” he whispers, burying his face in my cleavage and running his tongue along the curve of my breast. I wrap my arms around his head and hug him to me as he lavishes kisses and love bites across my chest and neck. “Lie down and tell me to fuck you.” His hoarse voice oozes sexual power, and makes my insides quiver.
Pulling the comforter aside, I crawl onto the mattress and lie on my back, bending one arm under my head and moving my other hand slowly down between my parted legs as he watches me, mesmerized by the private show, the song and the words rambling through his brain forgotten.
For now.
“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper.
Standing, his eyes stay riveted on my hand fingering myself as he kicks off his boots and slips out of the rest of his clothes.
“Lick your fingers,” he says, kneeling between my legs. His eyes flash royal blue-black as I raise my hand to my lips to lick the length of my index finger before sucking it into my mouth.
A sexy-as-hell grin curves his lips as he watches me, his cock extending from his body, and he grabs my ankles, raising my legs until my calves are pressed against his solid chest. My pulse races when he reaches for my waist and pulls my body against his, sinking his cock into me with targeted finesse. The sudden thrust makes me cry out, which only fuels him to drive harder and faster into me. He’s a wild man, fucking me deep and furious with my ankles on his shoulders.
A light sheen of sweat glistens his body, and his hair flails around his head like a thrashing metal head in concert. He’s lost again, only this time in the depths of my body rather than strings and pages and notes and words. He leans over me, bending my legs with him until my thighs are pressed against my breasts, and claims my mouth with his. Digging my nails into his back as he drills into me, I let myself spin out of control with him, not caring about the cold or my growling stomach or the wind howling outside. Nothing matters more to me than making him happy and giving him what he needs to ease his self-torture and bring him peace. I can be drug, lover, and best friend for him. I’m convinced I can be the peace he’s missing, just as he is mine.
He’s asleep within minutes after we collapse onto the mattress together, both of us exhausted, sweaty, and breathless. After gently pulling the blanket up over his shoulders, I carefully untangle my body from his and sit up, scanning the dim room for my clothes. Pieces of notepaper are everywhere, and I pick up the ones that are closest to me and arrange them in a neat stack in case he wants to look them over tomorrow. As I put the stack of paper off to the side, I can’t help but notice that the top sheet is filled with nothing but random scribbles. The words and musical notes I assumed he was writing don’t exist.
His arm instantly snakes around me, distracting me from the paper, and I drop it as he pulls me back down next to him, molding his body against mine.
“Stay,” he murmurs. “I hate when you leave in the middle of the night.”
I hate it, too, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to stay overnight in the shed. I’m afraid of getting caught by the police and arrested for trespassing. I’m even more afraid of the spiders that might be waiting for me to fall asleep so they can come out and do whatever scary shit spiders do. I’m afraid I’ll have to pee in the middle of the night. And then again in the morning when I wake. Traipsing out into the edge of the yard and squatting amongst the weeds and trees sucks.
This is the first time he’s ever asked me to stay, though, and I hope it’s a sign he’s becoming more attached to me and doesn’t want to let me go. Technically, there’s no reason I can’t stay overnight. I don’t have to be at work tomorrow, and I know Archie has enough food and water to hold him over until I get home. For sure, my mother will worry if she realizes I never came home, but I’m an adult and can stay out all night if I want to, whether she likes it or not. It was part of the agreement when I moved downstairs that they would allow me to be independent and not pry too much.
Settling back into Blue’s arms, I pull the blanket back over us before all the heat of sex escapes.
“I love you like there’s no tomorrow. Don’t ever forget that,” he says with his chin against my shoulder. My heart swells in my chest as it does every time he says those special words. Hugging his arm tighter to my chest, I say it back, even though I’m sure he’s already sound asleep. Unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come as easy for me as it does for him. The fear of looming bugs hinders me from relaxing enough to close my eyes.
“Acorn,” I whisper, and he lifts his head from his fleece dog bed in the corner to look at me questioningly. “Come here, puppy.” I pat the bed next to me, and when he happily trots over, I lift the edge of the blanket for him to crawl in beside me. He licks my hand before making himself cozy next to me under the covers. Sighing, I feel warm and protected, snuggled between Blue and the fuzzy dog I’ve also fallen in love with.
Chapter Ten
For the first time since we met, we’re having dinner in a local diner while Acorn waits in the back seat of my car on a blanket with a special bone I bought for him. I can’t even describe how good it feels to be out in public on a real date with the guy I’m in love with.
Christmas music is playing in the background, and I feel festive in my fuzzy white sweater and matching mittens and hat that I’ve put on the chair next to me. I keep glancing at Blue while I read the menu because he looks incredibly handsome tonight. His hair is freshly washed, all fluffy and wavy. The subtle scent of the cologne I gave him a few weeks ago fills my lungs with hints of sandalwood and vanilla. And don’t even ask me how a man can look so hot in a black sweater, but he sure as hell does. The knit fabric accentuates his wide shoulders and chest and makes him look positively cuddly and sexy.
I worried that Blue might appear out of place somehow or act awkward being in a restaurant, but I was wrong. He’s completely relaxed and natural, exuding his usual magnetic confidence. I catch several of the waitresses gawking at him as they walk by, but I curb my jealousy. He never flirts back, and I’ve never caught him checking out other women. Not once. His eyes are always on me, and they truly are a window to his thoughts, revealing his good and bad moods as well as his deepest emotions. There’s no way I could ever question his love for me because it’s so undeniable in the way he looks at me. That can’t be faked or forced. And neither can the flashes of need and desire I often see when I catch him staring at me.
Dinner was his idea, prompted by him making extra money this week after playing in a few bars. I feel bad letting him spend money on me, but I also know I need to let him pay and take care of me once in a while so he doesn’t feel like he’s taking advantage of me.
“What’s good here?” he asks.
“Hmm… They make a wicked good burger. And the chili cheese fries are amazing.”
His face lights up. “Fuck yeah. We’re getting those.”
“And they have Cherry Cokes with real cherry syrup.”
“Let’s get that, too.”
After the waitress takes our order, he reaches across the table and holds my hand in his. “I’m glad we did this. I’m sorry it’s not to a nicer place. Someday, I’ll take you to a five-star restaurant, baby.”
“Don’t be silly. This is perfect. We’ll never get Cherry Coke and chili cheese fries in a fancy restaurant.”
He flashes his boyish grin. “You’re probably right. I have a few more gigs lined up this month. The guy who usually plays guitar in that band is getting married and going on a two-week honeymoon, so I’ll be filling in for him.”
I nod as the waitress puts our d
rinks in front of us, and I immediately reach for mine, being the sugar addict I am. “That’s great.”
“At least I’ll have some extra cash for once. They talked me into singing at a few of the upcoming gigs. I know how much that turns you on, so you could come. If you want to.”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to. Acorn should be okay in the car for a few hours while I’m inside. I could check on him a few times.”
This is actually the third time we’ve left Acorn in my car. Twice so we could go inside a store and another time when I practically dragged Blue to urgent care when he had a terrible cough. Acorn was well behaved and didn’t try to dig his way out of the car or bark his head off.
“I like when you come listen to me.”
“I’d love to be there every time you play. You know I can’t get enough of you,” I tease.
“Trust me, babe. I know.”
The waitress returns and places our food on the table, and when she’s gone, I take a deep breath to prepare myself for what I’m about to ask Blue.
“Christmas is next week, and every year, I use that week for my vacation time since I never take a real vacation.”
“You should go somewhere. Like Disney or Aruba. I’m sure Ditra would love to go with you.”
I spear a fry with my fork and shake my head in frustration that the conversation has already gone in the wrong direction.
“I really don’t want to travel right now, especially over the holiday. But I wanted to ask you if maybe you want to come over for Christmas Eve?” I keep talking so he can’t say no yet, even though his face has taken on the liking of a deer caught in the headlights. “It’s just going to be my family… my parents, my younger sister, my older sister and her fiancé, and probably my grandparents. It’s casual. My mom makes homemade soup and chili and a bunch of desserts, and we open a few presents.”
He shifts in his chair and clicks his tongue piercing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I keep the smile plastered on my face. “It’ll be nice. You can’t spend Christmas all alone.”
“I always do. I don’t mind. I have Acorn.”
“I know… but I’d really like it if you came. I want you to meet my family, and I want them to meet you.”
Taking a bite out of his burger, he shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea,” he repeats. “What the fuck would I tell them when they ask me what I do? That’s what parents do. You want your parents to know how I live? Have you told them?”
“Well… no. Not yet. I thought if they got to know you first, I could eventually tell them. By then they’d already like you, so it probably won’t bother them as much.” I don’t entirely believe that, to be honest, but we have to start somewhere.
“No.”
“We can just avoid the questions for now and give vague answers. Or I can tell them just not to ask you stuff… I can tell them you’re a very private person. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No,” he says again.
“Stop saying no.”
“No.”
“Blue… please. It would really mean a lot to me if you came. I want you be a real part of my life.”
His jaw clenches, and he lets out a sigh of clear irritation. “Do I look like I want to be a part of someone’s life, Piper?” he asks in a low voice. “I don’t even want to be part of my own fucking life right now. If I wanted to sit around with family and rock around the Christmas tree and open presents, don’t you think I’d go back home? I can’t do it. Not with them or with you.”
Leaning back against the stiff fake-leather chair, I stare down at my plate, afraid if I look at him, I’ll burst into tears right here in the middle of the diner. I never expected him to jump up and down with excitement, but I definitely wasn’t expecting his reaction to be so cold and mean.
He reaches for my hand again, but I pull it away, which gets me a head shake in return when I peek at him. “Piper, come on. Tonight was supposed to be nice. Don’t ruin it with all this.”
“I didn’t realize I was ruining it,” I reply, pushing my plate away from me. The smell of the chili suddenly makes me feel nauseous.
“That came out wrong. I’m just not ready to be meeting your parents. If you want to come over after your thing with your family, or on Christmas Day, that’d be great.”
I’m starting to worry about the way he says come over. Like the shed is a permanent home. None of this is making me feel very confident about suggesting we stay at Ditra’s or get a place of our own, but I’m still hoping I can eventually talk him into that.
Sometimes, though, too much hope leads headfirst into the unexpected brick wall of reality.
I wait until we’re back at the shed to approach Blue with the idea of getting off the streets. Or out of the backyard, as the case currently is. He immediately lights up a cigarette and starts to pace around the tiny area, as if I just asked him to do something so outlandishly impossible that he can’t even comprehend it.
“You need to just chill,” he says between hand-shaking inhales.
“It was just a suggestion….” My voice sounds much calmer than I feel inside. “I just got a big year-end bonus from work. I was saving for an apartment before I even met you. What’s the big deal if you move in with me? I’m not asking you for anything else—”
He whips around to face me. “Aren’t you, though? Look around, Piper.” He swoops his arm around in a grand gesture. “Look what you’re sitting on. An air mattress and a down comforter. Look at the dog.” He points to Acorn in the corner. “Sleeping on a dog bed with ceramic dishes next to him. There’s a curtain on the goddamn window. I’m standing on a wool throw rug from Bed, Bath, and fucking Beyond. There’s a tiny cabinet of snacks over there with a plant on top of it. There’s a battery-powered space heater keeping us warm. What next?” he practically yells. “A mini fridge and a microwave?”
Okay. So maybe I slowly started to make this space a little more comfortable for us. But could anyone blame me? “I-I just wanted you to have some nice things. And Acorn loves all his new stuff. Look how happy he is.” The dog wagged his tail so hard when I bought him dishes and toys that his butt wiggled for almost an hour.
“I don’t want nice things. Or any things. Why can’t you understand that?”
I bow my head from his yelling and manic expression. “I don’t know. Why should we sit here and freeze and have nothing? I guess I don’t understand any of this.”
“No. You don’t. Stop trying to. Stop trying to fix me or change me or save me or whatever crazy needs you have in your head. Those are things you want, not me. I told you weeks ago. Take what you see or leave it. But don’t try to dress it up in curtains and blankets.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Ladybug. I want you to just accept. I’m not going to live in an apartment with you and get a job and have a bank account and meet your family and build dreams together. It’s not happening.”
My heart jackknifes at his words. “But why?”
He stops pacing abruptly and stares at me with a look of sheer torment on his face. “I don’t know.”
When my sisters and I were young, my father would never allow us to “I don’t know” as an answer to anything. He told us it was unacceptable. Lazy. A ploy to hide the truth from others and, sometimes, from ourselves. My initial instinct is to tell Blue he has to know, but the remorseful tone of his voice tells me he truly, honestly, and genuinely doesn’t know. And the little voice in my gut tells me I should be very worried about that, but I ignore it because ignorance is the path to delusional happiness.
“So when I get my own apartment, are you and Acorn going to at least come over? Not move in, but come over at night and on weekends and hang out and watch TV with me and let me cook us dinner? Instead of us being here?”
“I don’t know,” he says again. “I guess. Maybe.”
My father would be having fits over these answers, and I’m on the verge of it
myself, but I summon up all my inner strength and stop myself from throwing a sobbing tantrum or demanding real answers because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have anything remotely resembling answers or reasons. Forcing both of us to face that fact doesn’t seem like a very good idea right now. Not when he’s back to pacing and biting the inside of his cheek and acting all twitchy.
I switch gears like an Indy race car driver. “Evan, come sit down with me. We don’t have to talk about this now. We can play cards… or we can cuddle and talk about music and books.” None of my suggestions seem to be appealing to him, even though those are his favorite things to do. “We can fool around,” I add as a bonus, in a flirty voice, because that’s something he always wants to do.
“I need to walk.”
“Walk?” I repeat, glancing at my watch. “It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Don’t care. I just want to go for a walk.”
My nerves ignite with panic. This can’t be good. He’s turning down sex to walk aimlessly around town. What if he keeps walking?
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. I think I just need a few minutes alone.”
My heart and my hope pitches like a pile of rocks straight into my stomach.
“Oh. Okay.”
He reaches for the latch on the door but turns, his eyes softer. “You could stay here with Acorn. He’d like that. And I can see you when I get back.”
“Are you sure? Will I be safe here alone?”
“Hell yeah. Nobody ever comes down here. And there’s a hunting knife under the mattress.”
A knife?
I suppose the knife is hidden in the event he ever needs it for self-defense, but I wish I had known it was there. Random hidden weapons make me feel a little nervous.
He leaves for his walk without kissing me goodbye, which is unusual for him. Blue’s very physically affectionate with me. Whether it be sensual, erotic, or sweet, he’s usually touching me in some way, and he always kisses me hello and goodbye.
I take off my shoes, sit on the bed with my back against a pile of pillows—yes, I brought them all over here—and pull the thick comforter over me. Acorn immediately lies on my feet with his penguin. I’m tempted to just go home where it’s warm and take the dog with me, but I’m worried Blue will be even more upset than he already is if he comes back to find both of us gone. I’m not sure if upset is an accurate word to describe his current mood. Disturbed and anxious might be better descriptors. Cornered, even.
