by Bijou Hunter
“If you’re horny, get off me.”
“You’d have fucked me in the past. How quickly you’ve taken to monogamy.”
Taylor pretends to fall asleep until I finally crawl off her and sit at the end of the bed next to Maude.
“I need a shirt that says I have a lot to offer sexually. It should also be easy to get off.”
“I hope you’re planning to bring a box of condoms,” Taylor says while stretched out on the bed. “And a bleach douche for afterward.”
“I probably will catch chlamydia or the other one. Maybe herpes. I’m not going to stress that.”
Except now as I stand in front of Goliath’s double-wide in the deepest, darkest, and dankest woods in Shasta, I’m very much stressed about my vagina needing medical attention after getting pounded by this giant, slutty man.
The door to the trailer opens, and I stare up into the beautiful gray eyes of a man who crawled under my skin without even trying. Goliath wears jeans and a white sleeveless shirt showing off his tatted arms. He has to move sideways out of the doorway to get his wide shoulders through the narrow opening.
“This won’t end well,” I mutter to myself.
“Huh?”
“Are you alone?”
“Come to kill me, Shelly?” he asks, scanning over my head. “Ya here to draw me out, so your brother can put a bullet in me?”
At least, I think that’s what Goliath said. Since he sounds like a talking bear, I’m forced to guess a few words. Still, I’m fairly sure he used the wrong name.
“If I wanted to kill you, I’d do it myself. Bam, you’re dead,” I say, shooting him with my finger.
Goliath steps down from his trailer, but he still looms over me. His wild, brown hair hangs around his face. He hasn’t shaved in many moons, and I start thinking about how he’ll rub that rough beard against my fragile body.
“Whatcha want?”
“I don’t know,” I say, having second thoughts about letting this powerful, rugged man access to my virgin vagina. What if he goes savage on it, and I end up ruined forever?
“What?” he sneers, stepping closer.
I stumble back over the uneven ground and consider running away like a dumb girl in a horror movie. I can even picture Goliath chasing after me through the woods. I’ll surely trip over something and end up on the ground, where he’ll hack me to death with an ax. No, a machete would suit him better. He’s got a “The Devil’s Rejects” vibe about him. Should I just leave?
“Is this a prank?” he grumbles, and his face scowls in a fierce, I’m-going-to-kill-you way. “How come you’re here?”
“I wanted to make out with you,” I admit. “I wanted to more than make out. I think you’re attractive, but you’re scary, and I’m afraid to get a disease. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but my feelings matter more.”
His scowl takes on a confused flavor. “Huh?”
“I wanted you to fuck me,” I spell out, strongly enunciating each word. A lightbulb goes off in his big handsome head. Yet, I can tell he isn’t reading the room. Rather than notice my unease, he reaches out as if to touch me. I’m forced to take a big step backward. “I can’t, though. I don’t have condoms, and I’m unsure how much they’ll help prevent the diseases you caught from the sweet butts.”
“How do I know you ain’t got a disease?” he grumbles, offended by the insinuation that his dick isn’t surgical-room clean.
“I’m the queen bee of virgins.”
“Huh?”
“I am a virgin,” I say, enunciating each word since I’m not sure if he’s dumb or deaf.
Tapping his head, he smirks. “Ah.”
“Yeah, and I’m afraid you’ll hurt me or leave me diseased or something.”
“Could happen.”
“Which one? Hurt me or leave me diseased?”
Goliath shows me his huge hands. “I hurt people. Why wouldn’t I do it to you?”
“Do you hurt the sweet butts?”
Shrugging, Goliath looks me up and down. “Ask them.”
“I will.”
“Shoulda done that first.”
“No doubt.”
“Now what?” he grunts when I don’t speak.
“I walk away and possibly return at a later date when I’m more certain about the pain and disease thing.”
“My dick’s clean.”
“Doubtful.”
“I got checked when I got my tetanus shot,” he says and shows me his giant left hand where stitches hold the flesh together.
“What happened?”
“Dog tried to kill a little kid.”
I want to imagine this hunk of man-meat as a fully formed human with a gentle side. He saved a little kid! Whoopee! But does that mean he won’t call me by the wrong name during our fuck. Why am I here?
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” I say, shuffling away. “Stay cool, buddy, and remember to duck.”
Goliath shoves his thumbs into the loops on his jeans and leans back his head to let out a loud laugh. I don’t know what’s so fucking funny. Is he laughing at me or with me? Well, fuck, I’m not laughing, so that answers that.
THE GOLIATH
Shelby’s wearing a furry red sweater that I bet is real soft. I’m sure her skin is even softer. I don’t know what she was thinking by coming out here to ask for a fuck. What’s she nervous about? These last few months, I’ve seen her plenty of times at the Saloon. This scaredy-cat act has gotta be a joke, but I don’t get it. When I reach out for her, Shelby doesn’t look amused. She’s fucking freaked. I won’t be surprised if she runs away like a little rabbit.
“How come you never flirt with me at the Saloon? Why just come here and ask for a fuck?” I mutter, suspicious again. As soon as I saw her drive up, I assumed I was about to be ambushed.
Shelby slides her tennis shoe across the leaves-covered ground. “I’m not good at romancing a man.”
“No one needs that romancing shit.”
“I think I do,” she says, suddenly wide-eyed and backing away. “I think I’m soft and girly inside. Why did I come here?”
“You wanted to fuck. Now you don’t. Hope you ain’t expecting me to beg you to stay.”
“Right, because you can just fuck someone else.”
“Yeah, that. Or I can wank it. I don’t need nothing complicated.”
Shelby looks cornered, even though there ain’t no corner behind her. She can leave. She can stay. Nothing’s keeping her from doing what she wants.
“Why don’t you get on your motorcycle and ride home to your little brother? He can tell you the answers since you can’t find them on your own.”
Shelby’s panic routine fizzles out. Now she glares at me. “Hey, now, don’t you dare suggest I’m not a wise woman with all the answers just because this one single time I’m a little clueless.”
Her anger makes her face fiery. Those shiny light brown eyes widen like someone shot her full of moonshine and set her crazy ass loose. I remember thinking her eyes were green. Then I thought they were just regular old brown. I like seeing them so clear in the daylight. I especially like having them looking at me.
But I’m not as dumb as I look. I get how fucking this woman ends. Dipping my dick in the Campbell family pussy won’t lead to a happy ending. Her brother is my VP, and he doesn’t even pretend to like me. I know what happened the last time I got on the wrong side of my VP. While Shelby might be a sexy fucking woman, no way am I going back to prison for her. Though I suspect Shane would end my life before taking my freedom. The Reapers don’t need to be sneaky anymore. They won the war.
“I never want a girlfriend,” I say, and the crazy in Shelby’s eyes fizzles out like the panic did earlier. “You have to know that.”
“No,” she says, and all the power in her body goes away when she exhales. She’s smaller now. I don’t know what to think of the look on her face. Is she gonna cry? Her bright eyes don’t seem sad.
“Wanna beer?” I ask, gesturing back at t
he trailer.
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then, are you leaving?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Despite liking to see her up close like this, I ain’t a teenage boy begging for pussy. “Do I have to stand out here while you decide?”
“If you’re exhausted from standing, feel free to rest your joints inside,” she says, and her mouth does that thing where the lip corners on one side press together. I think she’s mocking me.
“Are you shit-talking my age?”
“No, I’m shit-talking your lack of physical strength to remain upright for a few minutes.”
“Can’t I just be lazy? Why is it that I’m weak?”
“You can be anything you want,” she says and looks around the woods. “Do you want to live out here, or do you just not know where else to live?”
“I’m gonna build a house here.”
Eyes full of curiosity now, she asks, “When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you asked my brother to help you?”
“Why would I?”
“Our family’s company builds houses. River is currently designing his future home.”
“Yeah, heard he was gonna put his house where Fuse used to live.”
Shelby narrows her eyes and asks, “Do you miss him?”
Shelby’s gaze sharpens. The soft, sweet thing she was doing earlier is gone. Suddenly, she’s the daughter and sister of killers. Shelby stands atop a pile of vanquished bodies left behind by the Reapers’ choice to claim Shasta.
“He ain’t nothing to me,” I mutter, keeping quiet about how I figure he set me up to get pinched by the pigs. “Never visited me in the slammer. What do I care if the old president’s house is now the new president’s house?”
“Fuse was a bad man.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“No. It’s possible to be a criminal and a good person. Plenty of people follow the laws and are still bad. Fuse lacked honor and a heart. His death was an inconvenience. River’s death would be a tragedy.”
I don’t respond because what’s there to say? She might be wrong about River. I wouldn’t know. He’s my president, but we aren’t friends. I did know Fuse. My former president wasn’t pretty like River. While I can’t say if he had a heart, the man sure didn’t have any honor. All people were expendable to him.
“Fuse is too dead to worry about now,” I mutter and walk back to my trailer. “You can come inside, or you can stand out here. Leave too, if you want. I’m not your keeper.”
I glance over my shoulder at where Shelby stands. She seems delicate and too young. I don’t know what she expected by coming out here. If I had to guess, the men in her world are rough on the outside and soft on the inside. I bet she hoped I was too. In her girly head, she figured I’d barf out a poem or talk about how special she is. Something dumb and romantic like that.
Except I learned not to waste time putting on a show for women. Becklyn wanted me rough but not so much that I’d kill her cheating ass. Jaymes wanted me soft but not so much that I wouldn’t pay for shit with my blood money. Women always expect me to bend to their wills. Be quiet. Get loud. Fuck hard. Not fuck at all. They always had some damn rule, but I hit my limit for eating shit while in prison. I’m a free man now, and I’ll do what I want.
And what I want most is to keep a target off my back.
Besides, I don’t know any poems. No way can I look Shelby Campbell in the eye and say she’s special to me. That I think of her more each day. That she has power over my heart. Because I might look like a dumb-fuck, but I’m not a dumb-fuck. Not anymore, anyway. I learned the hard way how no one is loyal to me except the dumb-fuck in the mirror.
Shelby Campbell might be the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen, but I’m done playing the chump.
THE WEIRDO
Despite the number of SUVs, trucks, and Harleys in the driveway of our grand two-tone blue Victorian, the house is quiet. I have to walk through a long, dark hallway and past the kitchen to the back porch to find my people. My brown-haired brother, Shane, and his petite wife, Ramona, sit on one side of the large, partially enclosed patio. Baby Ozzy sleeps in his dad’s arms. Toddler Iggy sucks at a bottle and plays with his mom’s long black hair.
On the other end of the porch, long-haired hippie River cuddles with his just as blonde pregnant woman, Max. Her baby bump is his new obsession.
Shane, River, Taylor, and I were the tightest of tight friends. In the last few years, though, they’ve all hooked up with people and started building families. Meanwhile, I got stuck in a perpetual single life.
“I chickened out,” I announce as I walk to the grassy area, past all the lovey-dovey dumplings and their spawn.
“Thank God,” Shane mutters, sighing loudly.
“Chickened out of what?” asks nine-year-old Desi. Maude’s daughter takes a break from brushing her Chihuahua mix—Zathura—while my two French bulldogs—Hansel and Gretel—wait for their turns. “Did you have to get a shot? I’m not scared of that. I had a bunch of shots. Right, Mom?”
Emerging from the side of the house, Maude probably realizes we’re about to jump headfirst into a lot of cock and pussy talk. That’s why she asks Desi to take the dogs for a walk with her. Everyone patiently waits until the child—who can understand fuck-talk unlike Iggy, who just giggles whenever I look at him—leaves the backyard.
Once Desi’s out of earshot, I stand near the porch and do my best rendition of “I Know What You Did Last Summer,” where I spin around and ask, “What are you waiting for?”
“A man who bathes,” Shane answers immediately. “Isn’t that why you couldn’t hook up with River?”
My oldest friend—newly in love and soon to be a father—frowns at Shane. “That’s not why.”
“Then, why?”
“She and I lack chemistry.”
“I thought it was the stink thing,” Ramona mumbles while stroking her son’s head. “Hygiene is important.”
“Yeah,” Shane says before adding, “And Goliath is a mess.”
“He smells fine,” I lie until they all frown at me. “Fine, he smells like a man, and men stink. However, I’m willing to overlook that problem in a way I wouldn’t with River.”
“Why?” Max asks and sizes up her man—aka the guy whose stink turned me off.
“I don’t know. Why did you overlook all of River’s many flaws?”
“He’s a wonderful man,” she says before adding, “And super sexy.”
Before River can suck on his woman’s tongue, I yell out, “I fear herpes!”
Ramona instantly covers Iggy’s ears despite the baby being far too young to know anything besides his beloved auntie is gloriously loud.
“We all fear herpes,” River points out. “Have you talked to Taylor about this?”
“Why her?”
“She’s a girl who enjoyed plenty of dick without succumbing to herpes.”
“Didn’t Ramona also have sex without catching anything?” I ask, leaning closer and asking my sister-in-law. “Or did you catch it, and I’m making you feel bad?”
“I tried catching it, but it was far too fast,” Ramona says and winks at Shane.
I realize she’s making a dig at River’s club nickname “Go-Go,” which is related to his speed on the track field rather than in the bedroom. Still, my brother and his woman grin at their inside joke while River is too busy checking out his woman’s boobs to notice anything else.
“Yes, pregnancy gave her great knockers,” I mumble when River can’t focus.
“I was thinking about her heart,” he says like a lying doofus.
After we laugh at him a little, I whine, “None of you are helping me.”
Ramona stands up and walks to me with Iggy on her hip. “You’re skipping over the stuff you need.”
“What stuff?”
Max waddles over with her baby bump leading th
e way. “You need to know him as a person rather than as a piece of meat.”
“Is that how you allowed River into your virgin hole?” I ask, remembering how Max used to call her pussycat by less sexy terms than, well, pussycat.
My question forces Max to turn back to her man and just swoon. I’d be grossed out by their display, but I get it. River’s hot. I’ve known him since he was a kid. He’s always been hot, even when he went through an awkward phase at the age of thirteen. Back then, his voice kept breaking so badly the dogs in the neighborhood would howl.
“Were his good looks not enough to unbolt the lock at your lady door?” I whisper in Max’s ear as she looks at a smirking River.
“No,” she says, and his ego-filled smirk falters. “It was his gentle and unbreakable spirit.”
Laughing is wrong, but Shane starts, and I can’t help following.
“Bitches,” River growls at us while Max rolls her eyes at our amusement. Ramona hugs her friend.
“Your love is beautiful,” I tell the women. “Now, focus on me and my problem.”
Shane wants to get in my face and demand my obedience, but he’s cradling his baby son. Unable to get up, he just frowns at me.
“Pick someone else. Have this new, better guy take you to dinner. If you want to slum it, go bowling with him,” Shane says and shoots a dirty look at River. My baby bruv can’t stop tormenting our friend. Of course, River’s older and should be the bigger man, but they just love measuring dicks. It’s like an addiction. I have addictions too—horror movies, carbs, a bearish biker. Yet I can remain focused, unlike these two rimjobs.
“I want Goliath,” I say, stomping my foot for good measure.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s your answer,” Shane mutters. “You should cut him loose.”
“But I want him. When you wanted Ramona, I played along,” I say, and then my sister-in-law gives me a pout as if I’ve hurt her tiny chick heart. “Once I met you, I fell in love too,” I say, and she grins. “As my little brother, Shane, you have a duty to help me get laid.”
“I wish I hadn’t shown up,” Maverick grumbles as he walks around the side of the house. River’s little brother looks like all the Majors do—a blond beauty with too-long hair. “Ignore her, Shane. I’d never help my sisters get laid.”
