The carnie children played around the bonfire, daring each other to get as close to the flames as possible until one of the mothers put a stop to it. Then they had to find another game to play.
There were about 15 kids of different ages, and all seemed happy—excited to be on the road for their summer vacation. Zachary said that most of the families traveled part-time. During school, the moms stayed home with the kids, while the fathers moved with the carnival; during vacation time, they could be together again. As Zach said, it was a hard life.
Zachary squeezed into a place next to me and passed me a s’mores.
“I think I love you,” I sighed, leaning against him and licking cautiously at the sizzling, sugary goodness.
I had a nice little buzz going from a couple of bottles of beer, as well. Kes stuck to water, but nobody commented on that.
Zachary smiled and whispered in my ear. “Don’t look now, but I think I’m making Kes jealous.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, but when I glanced at Kes out of the corner of my eye, he didn’t look very happy, scowling in Zachary’s direction.
“Oh my God!” I giggled. “I think you’re right. Do you think he’ll lock me in the trailer if I kiss you?”
“Are you drunk, Aimee?” Zachary laughed, a faint blush blossoming in his cheeks.
“It’s possible,” I said. “Just feeling a little overwhelmed with all of this,” and I waved my s’mores at the people seated around the fire. “I had no idea Kes was so … so…”
I was lost for words, but Zachary understood.
“Dono’s father was Irish, and he came from a long line of traveling men, restless souls. Kes is the equivalent of carnie royalty. Times are changing, but we like our traditions, and quite a few of the senior members remember the old ways.”
“I get it,” I said. “It’s nice being part of something. That’s why I like teaching. I like being part of the faculty, part of the team. I like having my classroom and my kids, teaching them the way I want, you know? Well, apart from having to follow the curriculum, which is a giant pain in the ass. But, it’s being part of something that’s important.”
Zachary smiled and risked putting his arm around me.
Not long after that, the party split into two: the families went back to their own trailers and motorhomes, while the young and single stayed around the bonfire, drinking and laughing.
I think I was unconsciously delaying the moment when we’d go to bed. This would be the consequence of my hasty decision to travel with Kes, and I hadn’t really thought through what it meant. Of course he’d assume that sex would be on tap, but I was nervous after what happened last time. Yep, really dumb time to realize that.
I was sure he’d sleep in the rig if I asked him to, but I didn’t want that either. Hence the beer—and the delay. God, I was being so pathetic, I was annoying myself!
After a while, Kes came and put his hand on my shoulder. When I turned to look at him, he didn’t say anything, he just stared fixedly into my eyes. My breath hitched, and I didn’t argue when he pulled me to my feet.
I vaguely remembered Zachary saying goodnight and drifting away.
Kes left the RV’s door open, and I guessed that was to allow the sultry air to circulate, but it made me hyper aware that anyone could hear … whatever it was we were going to do. And the look on Kes’s face didn’t leave much guesswork.
He closed the door to our compact bedroom and stood silently, staring at me.
“Kes, I…” but I didn’t know what I wanted to say.
He cocked his head to one side, listening intently, his eyes fierce and glowing.
Then he took a step closer so our bodies were almost pressed together in the tiny space, but it was the feather light touch of his fingers drifting down my bare arms that made me shiver in the humid air.
His head lowered, his lips seeking out mine. The kiss, if you can even call it that, was the merest breath across my skin. I reached upwards, threading my fingers through his crazy curls, and pulling him against me more firmly, kissing him with abandon.
I heard his soft gasp of surprise and then his lips were at my ear, whispering.
“Are you being a cavewoman, Aimee? Are you going to ravish me now?”
And then he laughed gently, his arms snaking around my waist as my teeth grazed his neck.
“Shut up and kiss me!” I snarled.
So he did.
He returned my bossiness tenfold, taking charge of my body in a way that left me breathless. He seemed to be on a mission to kiss every part of me. My t-shirt was tossed away, my bra gone in a second. I kicked off my flip-flops, shucked my shorts and tried to wrestle Kes’s jeans from his long legs. He laughed and stepped away, pushing them down in one long smooth movement. I didn’t even get the chance to see if he was wearing briefs.
His cock was already hard, bobbing as he walked toward me.
As a question about underwear, some silly joke, formed on my lips, he turned me around, sweeping my long hair over one shoulder so he could kiss the back of my neck, my shoulder blades, the curve of my spine, the soft flesh of my ass. And then he bit me, hard, and I squealed.
“What the hell, Kes?”
“I thought you’d be mad if I left a hickey where everyone could see it,” he teased, “because apparently no one is supposed to know that we’re having hot, dirty sexy in here.”
“That hurt!” I complained, rubbing my ass.
He batted my hands away and soothed the bite with his tongue and lips. Then he ran a gentle finger between my ass cheeks and blew a warm breath that made me tingle. When he ran his finger down the seam, I squirmed slightly. He immediately changed direction and rested one hand on my hip, reaching around to cup my mound with the other as the weight of his body pressed me forward.
I had to prop my hands up on the bed to keep from falling face first into the sheets. But then his weight was gone and he was picking me up and moving me onto the mattress.
He knelt on the floor at my feet, and pushed my knees apart.
“Oh, I’m not sure…”
He paused, one hand resting on my ankle.
“Why not?”
“I’ve never really liked it before. It’s too … impersonal.”
Kes’s eyes widened in surprise. “You think this is impersonal?”
“I can’t see you when you’re down there. I can’t touch you—well, I can reach your head, but…”
“Let me,” he said, “and you’ll change your mind.”
“Pretty confident of yourself, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I just can’t think of anything more personal than using my tongue to stroke your clit, the scent of you hot and aroused, seeing your face, feeling you writhe against me until you’re begging me to stop but praying for me to keep going, watching as you come on my face.”
My cheeks flamed at his casually dirty words.
When he said it like that, I felt really dumb. I realized that I was parroting something Gregg had always said because he didn’t like going down on me.
Kes didn’t wait for me to reply. Instead, he grazed the insides of my thighs with his rough beard and didn’t stop. Kissing became touching, and touching became tasting, and he was so right: there was nothing impersonal about what he was doing. I felt like he was touching my core and turning my skin inside out. The soft probing of his tongue was different from his nimble, callused fingers; a world away from the blunt width of his dick. I jerked and snapped against him until he had to hold me firmly with his hands, concentrating his mouth and teeth and tongue to bring me to a gasping orgasm.
I was still somewhere in the stratosphere when I heard a condom packet being ripped open, and then I felt him enter, shocking me into awareness, slamming me back to earth.
I felt the tremor in his strong arms as he tried to control what he was feeling.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, circling my legs around his waist and gripping him inside and out. “It’s okay. Jus
t … feel me.”
He groaned and murmured something, the words too indistinct to reach me. Then he pulled out slowly, so only the tip was still inside. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his stomach as his body hovered over mine, then he hooked his hands under my shoulders and used the leverage to crash into me, hard and determined, climbing deeper and deeper inside.
His eyes blazed down and his focus was thrilling and disturbing, his irises black and fathomless. I wanted to look away; I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. I watched every second of his drive for release, the soft parting of his lips, the look of wonder and surprise that replaced the hard determination. His shaft stroked against sensitive nerve endings, and my short, gasping whimpers seemed to spur him on. I came again, but he pushed through my orgasm, until I was almost begging him to stop—everything was too sensitive. Then his cock thickened inside me, and his body tightened everywhere.
His climax was silent, the explosion in his body apparent only to me. Only me.
When his body relaxed against mine, his large frame covering me, I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sweat that glued our bodies together. I felt all the things I’d told myself I shouldn’t feel with a man who was always traveling, never stopping, never still.
The whole night was a wordless, desperate need to keep touching. Touching, arousing, caressing, moving, floating, tensing and softening. It was a conversation with our bodies: pauses and questions, answers and responses. Question: If I touch you like this? Answer: Yes, I’ll fall a little further.
I felt safe and protected. I felt like I belonged.
The light was a sheen of white across my eyelids and I shifted in the bed, feeling a trickle of sweat down my back. I was too warm and the rattle of the generator outside was an annoyance. And then I felt Kes’s breath on my neck as he spoke.
“I’ve dreamed of this so many times, I can’t believe it’s real—that you’re real. You were always there, just out of reach, and I’d wake up and find my bed empty. But now you’re here.”
His voice was gruff from sleep and an emotion that came from deep inside him. Maybe because written words scared him, he measured his spoken words so carefully. He rarely spoke without thinking, so each barb, each slight, was weighed and evaluated before released with stinging accuracy. But now his words hit another target, and the walls around my heart were breeched.
Part of me didn’t want to fall for Kes again: he was too difficult, too dangerous, too unrestrained and wild. Since that summer, I’d looked for safe; appreciated it. What the hell was I doing here?
He didn’t speak again, I suppose because he’d said everything he needed to. Instead, I felt the press of his erection against my ass, his hands kneading my breasts and pinching the nipples.
Despite the fact that we’d made love all night, never sleeping for more than an hour before my hands found his beautiful body, or his legs tangled with mine, I wanted him again.
His hands left me for a moment, and I heard the telltale rip of another condom packet and the rustle of the sheets as he moved on the bed. Then he entered me slowly from behind, our spooning even more intimate, and his hands crept back to cup my breasts again, his arms enclosing me as he gathered me against his chest, then the slow push and pull, the slide of his thick cock in and out of me.
It wasn’t the hardest fuck or the deepest, which was just as well given the soreness of my well-used body, but it had an intimacy that took my breath away.
My arousal spiraled higher, his hands working me as if they’d known this his whole life. I called out softly and his hips moved faster, sweat making our bodies slick. Then he shuddered and buried his face in my hair, coming silently and deeply.
When he pulled out carefully, he rolled onto his back and I turned around so I was nestled against his gleaming chest.
“Better than my dreams,” he whispered.
I smiled and kissed his glowing skin.
But the morning sounds were all around us, and reluctantly we had to leave our cocoon.
Tucker and Zef had been banging around in the kitchen and were now outside, calling loudly to the other carnies.
“I have to get up,” Kes yawned. “Gotta do an equipment check and a run-through before the show.”
“Will you be safe?” I asked, stroking his firm chest and tweaking the few dark hairs that grew there. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”
A low laugh rumbled out of his chest. “You can keep me awake like that any time you like.”
I tugged a little harder and he opened one eye.
“I’ll be fine, Aimee.”
He dropped a quick kiss into my hair, rolled to the edge of the bed and walked to the door.
“Kes!” I squealed. “Put some dang clothes on before you leave this room!”
He threw a cheeky grin over his shoulder, showcasing his dimple, before he strode butt naked from the room.
I heard the shower run and he returned two minutes later, droplets of water on his chest and dripping from his hair, and—thank you—a towel draped loosely around his waist.
“That must have been the fastest shower in history,” I muttered.
“Habit,” he smiled. “You can have longer. We’re hooked up to water, so we don’t need to worry about the tank running out.”
Then he dropped the towel, and I was surprised to see that he was semi-erect. I think he was surprised, too.
“Well, damn,” he said, staring down. “It’s you, lying in my bed looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had.”
“You’ve fantasized about this?” And I let my hand drift down under the sheets.
I wasn’t really planning on doing anything more than tease him, because I was tired and sore, but the heated darkness in his eyes taught me never to taunt the man about sex. His cock thickened, twitching with intent, but then Tucker banged on the side of the RV.
“Kes! Get your ass out here. We’ve got H&S on site!”
Kes groaned. “Gotta get to work. Will you hold that thought?”
I grinned at him. “I’ll hold something.”
“Ah, shit!”
He turned his back deliberately and dug through the detritus of our hasty strip show from the night before, found his jeans and pulled a clean pair of briefs from his drawer.
“Not going commando today?” I queried.
He laughed, a deep contented sound. “Not when I’ll be changing into my leathers later. They chafe.”
I snorted loudly, and he winked at me before strolling from the room, a happy and satisfied man.
I was feeling those emotions, as well. Definitely satisfied. God, I hadn’t had sex like that in … well, ever. As a teenager, Kes and I hadn’t been granted the time to get to know each other’s bodies the way we’d done last night. The other guys I’d dated had been nice, nothing special, and Gregg—it was okay. I mean he tried; he wasn’t a completely selfish lover, but I suppose there’s not a lot you can do when the woman you’re with just isn’t that into you.
Hindsight is brutally clear, and I was seeing everything with 20/20 vision.
I peeked through the tiny curtains that framed our bedroom window, squinting at the bright light of an intolerant sun. I had a slight headache, which could have been from lack of sleep or the two, maybe three beers, that I’d had the night before.
I needed a long, hot shower, and as Kes had said water wasn’t an issue, I decided to indulge myself.
The guys were nowhere to be seen, so I slipped into Kes’s t-shirt from the day before and slunk through the RV to the shower. I hated having to share a bathroom, especially with three guys. I tried not to think about it too hard. It couldn’t be any worse, surely, than the gross communal showers I’d had to endure in college.
The bathroom was messy, but not dirty, so that was something. All I had to do was pick up two wet towels and hang them on the small rail, before stepping into the shower cubicle.
I winced as the hot water hit stubble burn on my face, neck, chest, s
tomach, between my legs … ah, hell, just about everywhere.
I’d only been in there long enough to lather my hair before someone banged on the door.
“Hurry up! I need to take a piss!”
I couldn’t tell if it was Zef or Tucker yelling at me.
“Five minutes!” I shouted back.
But whoever it was ignored me and the door was flung open.
I squealed, and Zef’s grumpy voice came through the glass shower door.
“Relax, Yoko. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Get the fuck out, Zef!” I screamed.
But he just used the toilet, and flushed.
I don’t think he even washed his hands.
I was furious. Furious and humiliated. And very determined to lock the door in future and let the bastard piss his pants.
I finished my shower quickly and pulled on shorts and a tank top, even though my body was still damp.
When I stomped into the living room, Zef was sitting on one of the sofas drinking coffee, relaxed as anything.
“What is your problem?” I snapped. “And why did you call me Yoko?”
He placed the coffee cup on the table with great deliberation and stared at me.
“I don’t like you,” he said bluntly.
My mouth dropped open. “What did I ever do to you?!”
“You’ve fucked up our boy out there,” he said calmly. “And if he’s fucked, we’re all fucked.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Oh believe me, I’m more than happy to explain,” he grunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “He’s out there yawning his head off, distracted, completely unfocussed. He’s been fucking all night when he should have been sleeping. Have you any idea how dangerous his stunts are? There’s a reason he’s one of the best in the world—because he’s focused, dedicated. Or maybe you hadn’t grasped that, with your small town mentality and middleclass horizons. He only has to be off his game the smallest fraction, and a broken leg is the best case scenario.”
“But I…”
“I’m not finished,” he snarled. “And I’ll call you Yoko because you’ve already split up the gang. Sorcha managed the whole show. She fucked him, kept him happy, managed his bookings, even washed his damn clothes—that poor bitch did everything, and got nothing back. A free ride and some pocket money to keep her quiet. You come along, and nothing is getting done. Tucker and I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening after this summer or whether we’ll even have a gig to go to because Kes needs a manager. Thanks to you, we don’t have one.”
The Traveling Man Page 25
