With her hand on his jeans and her lips close to his ear, she asked him, “Lucky, aren’t you going to take these off?”
“Shhh,” he responded quietly. “I planned on doing that eventually.” He smiled and she realized she must have sounded very fixed on the idea that he do it now.
At least she hoped it was a smile and not a grimace making the whiskers on his cheek rise up and scrape against hers.
Lucky rolled away from her onto his back then lifted his butt in the air and slid the jeans down past his feet. She watched his face as he paused, then lowered the boxers that had to have been chafing up a storm against him. She had no idea what was going on in that blond head of his but thinking was about to be turned off for the night on her part. Under the protection of the bedding, she reached across his tummy with her arm and leg and laid them over him. Trusting they were in sync with each other, she reached down, feeling her way to his erection. It throbbed and bounced away at first until she steadied it with her caring hand.
He winced.
“Sorry,” she said, feeling her eyes widen along with his. The look settling over his face said he was sorry too.
Understanding they were two very new partners and that things had certainly moved much faster than what he was accustomed to, she couldn’t deny her body’s cravings any longer. She needed to look up and see Lucky hovered over her, raw bliss on his face, and feel him giving himself to her, one deep thrust at a time. Devoid of patience, thoughts and the ability to stay away from him, she lowered her panties down with her hands until she could finish the job with her toes. She then brought the yellow satin undies up with those same toes and grabbed them with her hand.
“These are for you.” She placed them in his hand.
He balled them up in a closed fist and then to her utter surprise, kissed it.
“Welcome,” she said, adoring the appreciation he showed for her gift.
“I don’t want to wait any longer, darlin’.” He held her close to his body, locking his strong arms around her back and rolled over, placing her gently beneath him. On instinct, she wrapped a leg around his waist, still afraid he might change his mind.
When he clutched her thigh and rubbed himself against her, her body tensed and arched at the feel of her sexy angel.
Finally, his fingers slid inside her. “Oh god,” she choked out and dug her nails into his back.
Chapter Six
“Screw. Me.”
Trista’s head had been buried in Lucky’s shoulder as she enjoyed the smell of his spicy yet clean deodorant when the words shot out of her mouth.
“Excuse me?” he whispered into her hair.
“Oh crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
She’d given up on convincing Lucky to give her a turn at pleasing him and had made nice with feeling his breaths in perfect rhythm with his finger strokes. But she wanted more as the ticking clock refused to stop no matter how many finger guns she aimed its way.
Hearing her profane curse had obviously surprised his country ears. He’d been at her neck with his lips when it must have sounded like she wanted him to get the show on the road.
“Do you want me to stop this part? I will. Tell me what you want me to do, darlin’.” He looked at her for help. A furrow started in his brow as his fingers stalled but stayed placed deeply inside her. They were dangerously close to what she feared had just begun.
“Um, I’m sorry. I think I just need to go to the bathroom real quick.”
She’d ignored the first trickle she’d felt, not wanting Lucky to stop what he was so expertly doing to her down there. His massage left her tingly and relaxed but hyper sensitive as well and ready to be filled by his beautiful cock she’d been petting.
Lost in the most amazing bliss, she’d felt herself stretching just so to accommodate the svelte length of three fingers and then four. But she couldn’t ignore the second bit of leaking and she would be mortified if his fingers were to come out of her bloodied. It was that thought that had brought forth the vulgarity she hadn’t meant to screech out loud. The timing really was cruel.
“Are you okay?” he called after her once she’d left the bed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have gone beforehand. I’ll be right back.” She left Lucky under the covers and tip toed quickly to the bathroom then closed the door.
* * * *
Lucky lay in bed missing the most amusing woman he’d ever met. The bathroom where he guessed she’d gone to relieve herself was quiet. He just wanted her back—back beside him, under him, wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around his erection, not wanting to lose it. Although, just the thought of her coming back out of the bathroom in her yellow lacy bra and nothing else was enough to sustain his desire. That was coming off next so he could taste her creamy breasts. She was amazing, not amusing. But after a few more minutes, he heard her curse again, this time it wasn’t as bold, only a few sequential “Shit, shit, shits.”
Concern got him up out of the bed. After maneuvering in the darkness, he tapped lightly on the door with his knuckles.
“Trista, is everything okay?”
After a sigh, she opened the door and answered him face to face. Her eyes were dripping with runny black makeup of some sort and her nose was running. Uneven red marks made her neck and throat splotchy. God she was beautiful, and a mess. It’d been so dark in the room. How could he have let her get like this?
“Lucky, I’m so sorry. You should probably wash your hands. Oh hell, I’m so embarrassed.” She flicked the light switch on.
He started to question her but then noticed she was staring at his hand. “Oh no, darlin’, what did I do to you?” He looked again, bringing his hand up to his face to inspect it more closely.
“Lucky, please just wash your hands. You didn’t do anything to me.” Then with a heavy sigh, “I got my period just now. The sheets, your hand, our night. They’re all ruined. I have to get changed.” She left him at the sink to go fish out something from her suitcase. Not sure how to make things less embarrassing for her, he did as she asked and went for the miniature bar of soap at the sink.
He could tell without needing any of Trista’s insightful senses that she was bummed out and sorry. He’d never experienced this before but wondered if it might make her feel better to know that it didn’t bother him. But that could make her feel like he was after sex no matter the cost.
Which he wasn’t. He’d tried to make that clear tonight by taking his time.
So he finished washing his hands and then went to retrieve his boxers from the floor and pulled them on. The dainty yellow panties she’d given him lay near his discarded red shirt. She refused to look at him.
“Trista, would you like these back?” he asked, holding her panties out to her.
She was already covered in a white nightgown that hung loosely in what had to be her favored length of just below mid-thigh. In her hand, she held a blue and yellow box he’d seen in drug stores before.
“No, those are yours. If you want them, that is.”
“Um, of course I do.” He stood in her way. That had to be doubt shadowing her eyes and the furrow in her brow. He impeded her only long enough to place a light kiss on her forehead and then hopefully convince her of his feelings. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad. Okay? I don’t.”
She just nodded her head and then returned to the bathroom. When she came back out, he was lying in the bed; a few bath towels he’d found covered the mess. As soon as he saw her, he raised the comforter. “Come, lay down.”
Trista shrugged but did as he asked. Her choppy, heavy steps indicated she needed rest.
“Hey, why so sad? It’s okay, really,” he said as he traced the outline of her lips, wishing he could cajole them into a smile. Dimple marks dented her chin as it began to quiver and fresh tears filled her eyes. “Are you saying this was a one shot deal? I was looking forward to at least a few more nights with my new snuggle partner.
”
He made her laugh, a little. Thank you, Lord.
“No, I’m not saying that. I just feel bad and I—” her mouth hung open, making him desperate to know what else she needed to say.
“You what?”
“I just know that in a few days, we’ll be back in California. Things will be different there.” She frowned deeply and looked down at a small white satin bow on her nightie, holding it in the tips of her two fingers.
“How do you figure? Do you transform back into some prudish, proper goody two-shoes who wouldn’t give me the time of day?”
Another smile, but this one was followed by a sigh and then a reckoning long slow blinking of her eyes. “No, never. It’s just that I don’t think we’ll get to spend much time together. I’ll be prepping for the tour in two weeks and you’ve got whatever business you have to take care of. I don’t even know what that is or where that’s gonna be. If you stay with Jaxon, well, I won’t even go there. Suffice it to say I’m not allowed in his house most days.”
Now that didn’t sound right. Not with how close the two were. But aside from that, she’d brought up a lot he hadn’t considered yet. More importantly, she became even more human. She wasn’t just a hot thing riding shotgun on this road trip with an open attraction to him. She had asked about his business and sounded worried about how things might dissolve between them once they were back in her real world.
There was so much more he wanted to find out. The things that made her smile and the ones that made her curse. What curiosities did she hold tight to and what caused the trace moments of sadness he’d seen creep across her face the past couple days? Why hadn’t she heard him when he’d told her time and again how special she was?
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t be that guy. You know, the one who waits around. But I’m afraid I am.”
“You are?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you sure? Because you don’t really know me that well,” she warned, rubbing her right wrist up the length of her bare left forearm.
“Not yet. But I like what I do know of you.” He caught her wrist on its way back down.
Trista pulled away from him an inch and asked, “Really?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re a good guy, Lucky. A good man.”
“I’m tryin’, darlin’.”
“Well, I appreciate it. You know, I didn’t plan on liking you, at all.”
He chuckled and then had to ask, “Why not?”
She twisted her mouth and rested a knuckle at the tip of her nose before she spoke. “I just wasn’t ready for some stranger to come tagging along on my road trip. Making things uncomfortable and messing with my head.”
His eyes widened and his brows shot up. “Have I been that bad? To quote a young lady I know—Screw Me!” He’d rather not talk to her that way but sensed she needed the shot of humor. How he wished he’d have been able to soothe her, and what he’d really wanted, to make love to her. He contented himself with the knowledge that he was exactly the man who would wait until the time was right. They’d be fine in California. He was sure of it.
* * * *
Trista traced Lucky’s lips with her fingertip. “Nope, that was just me, trying to put up a wall it turns out would have been a big mistake had I been successful.”
Lucky had been the key to her getting through the past couple days. But now, she couldn’t escape the roars of the coming train, laying its tracks all over her soul. Tomorrow she had to jump off and face what she’d been running from since she was a little girl. Alone.
The thought made her sick to her stomach. She hunched over and rubbed it a few turns.
If only she could have been wrapped up in making love with Lucky for a few hours tonight.
His deep voice broke through her thoughts. “Thank you, Trista. For letting me come along with you. You’re a good woman, no matter what you think.”
She let the compliment fill her ears because even though he was wrong, she could tell he meant it. For some reason, he believed in her.
“Lucky, tomorrow I have to go do something, take care of some things. Please don’t take it personal, but I need to do them alone.”
She lay there in the dark room, safe in his close hold, pretty darn intimate for two people who’d just met. But for tonight, she’d keep her secrets to herself.
“I understand darlin’. Just so you know, if you change your mind, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” Her head bobbed a few times.
But there would be no invitation for him. No feeling that things would somehow turn out better if he were to accompany her into Duketown.
Jaxon would have been different.
He already knew the reasons for her going and would have been able to handle the sick place she could very possibly slip into when she re-entered the personal hell. Jaxon had a built-in capacity for slime and disgust.
But not Lucky.
He saw her as a good woman, deluded as he was, and she was determined to keep it that way. It was a gift she wouldn’t see tainted.
“Well, I should let you get some sleep. Good night, darlin’.”
“Good night, Lucky.” But as she closed her eyes, she knew any sleep that came tonight would be hollow and restless at best.
Chapter Seven
A one, a colon, and two zeroes glowed dimly red when Lucky rubbed his eyes and pulled the digital clock closer to the edge of the nightstand by the bed. Trista had fallen asleep in his arms less than two hours ago but she now lay a foot or so away from him, on her back and seemingly agitated. She lifted a shoulder, almost to her ear and then laid it back down near her pillow. Her arms lay in an x across her chest, wrists inward and almost wrapped around each other.
He could guess she wasn’t in the middle of a good dream but didn’t want to wake her up if it wasn’t necessary. He waited for her to relax again and hopefully fall back to sleep on her own. Resting on his side, he propped up his head and waited.
“Please, don’t.” Her whispered plea barely made it to his ears and he debated again whether to wake her.
“No, don’t.”
That time was loud and clear.
Gently, he rubbed Trista’s shoulder to try and rouse her from the bad dream. “Trista, wake up. It’s okay.’
But she was sound asleep. He would have to shake her pretty hard and didn’t want to. She was quiet again, but had twisted her forearms out and away from her body then back lower, toward her belly, losing the covers he had tried to keep wrapped around her so she wouldn’t be cold. Again, she rubbed the insides of her wrists against each other and then brought them back up into the protective criss-cross over her chest. She then rolled over onto her side and was quiet and still. He gently scooted back up behind her, close enough that she might sense he was there but far enough away that he wouldn’t frighten her with an unexpected touch. He remained in that guarded position until satisfied she was okay, then allowed himself to fall back asleep.
* * * *
The sun was not up yet, but Trista was. She couldn’t sleep, she didn’t want to anymore. Not with those dreams. Carefully, she rolled off the side of the bed and tip toed over to her suitcase. She lifted the unzipped lid and pulled out the clothes she had laid out last night. After slipping out of her nightgown and into her dress and tights, she then grabbed her toiletry bag and travel-sized plastic cup and headed over to the sink. Lurking around dark rooms, staying quiet so as not to awaken sleeping bodies either in beds or passed out on floors was her specialty.
After brushing her teeth and pulling her hair back into disheveled neatness, she slid into her Mary Janes and went to the small round table near the TV to write Lucky a note. Her nausea grew now that she was close to leaving this sheltered space. She wrote only enough to keep Lucky from worrying.
“Lucky, I couldn’t sleep anymore so I’m up and out early to take care of my business. Sorry to leave you stranded here without a ride. I don’t know how long I’ll be but I’ll check
in with you later. Thanks friend, Trista.” She set the note, the pen and the extra room key on the table and quietly exited their room. Lucky hadn’t moved the whole time. She was very practiced.
The early morning darkness of March would give way to the sunrise soon. Trista turned her heater on but rode with the windows down. Truth be told, she was close to freezing. The cold wind acted as an elixir that numbed her skin enough to endure the biting chill it caused. The vicious circle of hurting and healing was thoughtless and something she had become too good at.
She drove north, away from Lucky and their hotel and toward the sleepy state highway that would take her west into Duketown. With the stereo turned off, the only sound came from the gusty wind roiling around outside, making its way within the roll bars of her Jeep.
The last time she had made this part of the drive had been the summer of 1986. Gramma was still traveling with the diner back then. Twelve years old, she thought, remembering the tender age she’d been when Gramma had come to Duketown and rescued her. Not looking back, she had sat in the front seat, soaking wet and a bloody mess. Gramma drove them west, away from it all, her left hand on the steering wheel and her right hand holding firmly onto Trista’s makeshift bandages while her wrists bled steadily. That part didn’t matter. She was being taken away, gratefully, to a new life on the road with Gramma.
And now, after all these years, she was back.
The large wrought iron cemetery gates were closed when she arrived. She could park along the shoulder of the main road and make her way on foot if she didn’t want to wait for them to open. Two decades hadn’t erased the memory of the day she’d stood bravely by, hand in hand with her half-siblings, as her mother’s heavy wooden casket had been lowered into the ground. Two rows from the back gate, three spaces over to my right.
That day she had plucked a dandelion out of the ground and laid it atop the hated box. Today she would finally be able to lay a proper, fresh bouquet of yellow daffodils against the headstone. Flowers that would say “I’m doing fine, momma. I love you.” Hopefully her mom hadn’t really been watching from above all these years, helpless to see what Trista had been left to.
Sidewalk Flower Page 7
