by Teagan Kade
The oven dings and Dane grabs a tea-towel, bending over to take the buns out of the oven. I’m more interested in buns of a different kind. How do you even get a tushy that tight?
It’s called an ass, Haley. A-S-S.
I can’t help but laugh.
Dane turns. “Oh, this amuses you, does it?”
“No, not at all. I’m loving having someone else cook, actually.”
“I couldn’t take another TV dinner, sorry.” He nods to the island in the center of the kitchen. “Take a seat. They’re almost done.”
I watch Dane assemble the burgers and plate them up, placing them down along with two sodas.
I pick a can up and examine the label. “How do you drink this and have a body like that?” I query.
He slides my plate across. It smells delicious. “Good genes, I guess. Dig in.”
I’m in heaven from the first bite. I don’t know if it’s simply because someone else cooked it, but it could well be a contender for the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.
And that includes you, Grandma’s apple crumble.
Dane’s too busy watching me to eat. “Good?”
I realize my eyes are still closed. “It’s…”
“Orgasmic?” he fills, “because you’re looking a touch flushed there.”
I simply nod and continue to eat, paying no attention to the ketchup dripping down my wrist.
I lick my fingers when I’m done. It’s like I’ve turned into an animal.
Dane laughs, polishing off his own burger. “Anyone would think you never eat. He holds up the tray of remaining burgers. Another?”
I hold my stomach with one hand and wave him off with the other. “No, thank you. I’m definitely satisfied.”
He makes his way to the counter.
“How did you get into flying?” I ask, keen to know more about this burger-making miracle.
Dane places down the tray and seats himself back at the island. “I don’t know. I joined the Air Force straight out of high school. I wanted to see the world, to get as far away from my hometown as possible.”
“And you did?”
He crosses his arms. “Sure. I served in a stack of countries, some shittier than others, seen a few pretty damn close to paradise.”
“Were you involved in much—” I don’t know how to say it “—conflict?”
“I did my share of dirty work, if that’s what you’re asking, but nothing like your father went through in the Gulf.”
He’s more perceptive than I give him credit for. “You saw the medals?”
“I did. He must have been a hell of a pilot.”
“He was, but to be clear he isn’t my birth father.”
There’s genuine curiosity in Dane’s eyes. “But you still consider him ‘Dad,’ right?”
“Yes. My ‘real’ father was my mother’s high-school sweetheart, but he left town as soon as he found out she was pregnant. I guess he couldn’t handle the responsibility.”
Dane nods knowingly. “And you’ve tried to contact him?”
“No. I don’t feel a need to get to know him. To me, Dad was Dad—still is. I mean, Mom told me he was different after the war, that he never wanted to leave Merit again. He mostly did odd jobs around town. Enough to get by.”
Dane relaxes. “How long’s it been since they passed?”
“Three years now. Dad died suddenly, Mom not long after.”
“So they never got to meet your son?”
The tears well up again. “No.” I sniff them away. “How about your folks?”
Dane leans back. “Also passed, but it’s no great loss.”
For a second I’m horrified anyone could say that, but then I don’t know Dane’s situation, his childhood. I don’t know much about him except for the fact he flies jet, makes great burgers and knows his way around a vagina.
“They weren’t exactly homey people,” he continues. “They didn’t believe in sugar-coating anything, taught me from a young age life isn’t a cakewalk. At least they didn’t beat me, I suppose.”
I try to steer the conversation back to a lighter subject. “How was the grocery store?”
“Tiny. I couldn’t find the sushi.”
I laugh. “You won’t find sushi or McDonalds in Merit for that matter, though I imagine your burgers were better.”
“You’ve never had McDonalds?”
“I’ve never been out of town.”
“Huh,” he says, like this explains everything. “I see.” He leans back, hands behind his head. His eyes drop. “How about dessert? I know I could go for something… sweet.”
I’m blushing again, damn it, forced to press my thighs together tight under the table before they combust and set this whole place on fire.
I swallow, fiddling with my hands as I’m prone to do when nervous. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Honestly. This means a lot.”
He stands and makes his way to my side of the island, one hand on the marble, the other reaching out to run a strand of my hair through his fingers. “I want you, Haley,” he says, as easy as that. “I want you so bad it fucking hurts. Have you ever felt that way?”
I swallow again. “Um, I don’t…”
He crouches down before me. “I can help you relax. Just say the word. You won’t have a worry in the world after I’m done with you.”
Those eyes, damn him. They’re like tractor beams drawing me into his orbit, willing me to let go of my inhibitions.
I look up.
Not a peep.
Nope. Can’t use Andy as an excuse.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whimper.
“But you know what you want, don’t you?”
He’s so close I make out each individual hair in his stubble, the soft valley between his lips.
I nod. “Yes.”
He takes me under the legs and lifts me from the chair.
I gasp in surprise, lost as he carries me into the lounge and lays me down on the sofa. The lights are off, only the sapphire glow from the twilight outside giving shape to shadow.
Dane places one hand by my head, bringing his body over mine, the heat and weight of it palpable before contact.
I reach up and place my hands against his chest, not surprised to find it as rocky as I imagined. I’m breathless, my heart galloping away from me. “Slow down, Dane. Please.”
He leans down to kiss my neck, a barely-there caress. He draws his head up, his lips sitting at my ear. “I can go slow. I can go fast. It’s up to you, but the result is always going to be the same.”
His own heart taps against my hands, his cock growing hard and needy in the no man’s land between our bodies. “I’d never had a…” I force myself to say it, “orgasm before you touched me.” The word sounds strange coming from my mouth, a naughty word.
He runs a finger across my lips, the tingling sensation that follows fanning through my body. “And I can make you come again, and again, over and over if you want. You just have to say the word.”
He starts to make his way down my body, settling between my legs, his hands gripping the top of my jeans. “The word, Haley. Say it.”
“Yes,” I whisper, already lost to his powers.
He starts to tug my jeans and panties down my legs together.
I let him, the air drawing gooseflesh to the tops of my thighs.
He tugs the jeans away from my ankles, peeling my panties off in turn and dropping them in a hot bunch beside us.
He spreads my legs and my breath catches, because here I am completely exposed before him, wet and hot and completely at his mercy.
I grip onto the sides of the sofa as he lowers his head.
No man has ever gone down on me before, been down there.
I’m about to protest when his lips come against my clit.
I stiffen, frozen at the sensation, all my senses drawn towards that heated, slick space he’s invading.
“Dane,” I moan, not sure if it’s a cry for help or an invitation for
him to continue.
He ignores me, pushing my legs wider still and dipping his tongue low past the folds of my pussy, running long, leisurely strokes up my slit before pressing forward into my wetness.
It’s more than the act. It’s the service of it that’s turning me on, because this is solely for my pleasure.
I claw at the fabric harder, the back of my head hard against the cushion.
Dane licks and sucks, pulls and caresses with his entire mouth, working like he can’t get enough of it, his whole face buried between my legs.
I reach up with one hand and run it through his hair, indigo and inky in the light.
His stubble rubs my skin raw, but I don’t care. I close my eyes and picture the side of my thighs angry and red, a mirror image of my open sex he so enthusiastically laps against.
I start to buck up against his face, his hands coming under my ass to lift me towards him, to drink and dive into my most private space.
It’s déjà vu. I’m back at the motel and this is happening, again, only this time it’s far more intimate, far more real. I’m swimming in the sensation, my clit pulsing and my body reacting, tensing and releasing, building and building until I’m wild, grinding and jerking up and down, a woman possessed.
I try to think my way through it as Dane’s attention turns to my clit, the very tip of his tongue circling the sensitive island, but my head is muggy, drifting in a hot fog of desire so strong it blocks out all else.
My nipples are tight against my top. I’m sweaty, my arousal everywhere around us. It’s so wrong, so taboo he should be down there where I’m wet, and flushed, it’s so dirty, but this only serves to turn me on more.
He squeezes my ass with one hand, removing the other and running a finger into the wet mouth of my pussy, running it deep and hooking it back towards the entrance in a come-hither motion.
Instantly, I’m overwhelmed, the sensory overload too great to endure any longer.
I cry out in what sounds for all the world like agony, slapping my hands down hard on the sofa and twisting against him, my thighs locking tight around his head as I pulse and pull around his finger.
I’ve fallen, been cut free into a sea of bliss, and the waves won’t subside, forcing me into a new series of convulsions more powerful than the first until it seems I’ll be sent unconscious.
Dane presses his tongue flat against me, weathering the storm, holding me tight throughout until I’m weak and limp, every ounce of energy I had drawn out.
He rises between my legs a shadow, but I can still see the smile, the knowing grin that he has the power here.
He climbs up my body and presses his lips against mine, the hint of my own desire still on his lips, his face.
I breathe heavily between the kiss, have never felt this way before, so completely out of control.
He breaks the kiss to lift himself up, watching me. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing my forehead with his hand, “I’ve got you.”
CHAPTER TEN
DANE
I make the coffee strong, not that I need a pick-me-up after last night. I loved Haley coming against my face like that, the way her pussy tugged against my finger, and I wanted more—holy fuck did I want more. Of course, the baby decided to wake up and cock-block me at that precise moment I was pulling my dick out.
Cock-blocked by a one-year-old. That’s a new one.
I’m smiling to myself as I sit at the kitchen island. It doesn’t feel like the kind of vapid happiness that’s going to disappear as soon as it arrives either, as most of my affairs work out, but a deeper, more meaningful sense of satisfaction.
Maybe she’s the one? I consider, dismissing the idea.
I look around. Living in this museum, though, this town stuck in the ’60s? I’m not ready to commit to that, to a life of settling down and tending to the rose garden.
I finish my coffee, grab some tools from the shed and get down onto the laundry floor. I’ve noticed the dryer’s been acting up, so I’ve decided to put on my Mr. Fix-It hat. It’s the fucking least I can do.
The toolbox lies open beside me. I select a screwdriver and start levering off the side panel. I’ve always been good with machines, worked on my own planes when I could, given the shit job most so-called mechanics do these days.
Machines don’t lie. They don’t have emotions. They either work or they don’t. I like that, the simplicity of it. If there’s a problem, you fix it. I know it’s male thinking, but it’s just how I’m wired.
Soon my hands are moving without thought, unscrewing and pulling, shifting and turning inside the guts of the dryer.
I realize it’s two weeks until Christmas. There’s no way the ice storm can last that long, right?
I’ve made it something of a Dane Carr tradition to be in Vegas over Christmas. I’m not one for clichés, for the cold and snow and usual Christmassy crap, and this Merit, Michigan is the biggest cliché I’ve seen to date.
In Vegas no one even cares it’s Christmas—too busy dropping quarters and filling slots to care. I party ’til I can’t stand, and then I party some more. Hell, I can’t even remember the face of the last girl I slept with in Vegas.
And how’s that working out for you, big boy?
The plumbing rattles in the roof above. Haley must be taking a shower.
I place the screwdriver down and stand, wiping my hands on my jeans. Shower sex is exactly what I need right now.
I’m about to head upstairs when there’s a knock on the door.
I’m torn, consider ignoring it, but it comes again.
“Fuck,” I mutter, making my way over and pulling it open.
The guy standing at the door looks like he’s in his mid-thirties. He’s wearing one of those Elmer Fudd hunting hat things you only find in this frigid, frozen part of America.
He seems surprised. “Oh, hey,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Is Haley still living here?”
He’s standing well away from the door. Probably thinks I’m going to step outside and flatten him. I probably wouldn’t have to use my hands at all. A simple puff and he’d fall.
“She is,” I answer, sliding my hands into my pockets.
The guy scratches his head. “Right. Can I see her? It’s Jeremy Lewis.”
There’s no way Haley would be seeing a guy like this, though maybe this shit-for-brains is what passes for relationship material around here. “She’s in the shower.”
Another “Oh.”
“Maybe I can help.”
I take a step past the doorway and I swear the guy almost trips in his haste to back away. “Well,” he says, staring down at his feet before looking up, “some of us in town are putting together supplies. I thought maybe Haley could contribute, come down to the garage where we’re doing it? She normally helps out with these kind of things.”
“Does she?”
“Oh, yes,” he nods enthusiastically, “you can always count on Haley to help out.”
I’m surprised, but I’m not sure why. She’s selfless. So what?
Still, I can’t stop a spot of irritation that’s crawling under my skin, an itch I can’t quite seem to scratch. She helps everyone out, so why do some people around here seem to think so little of her? Because she had a baby out of wedlock? Is that it? If so, this fucking town needs to get with the new millennium. That toxic bullshit can’t be allowed to thrive in modern America.
What Haley needs is a fucking break. “Look, she’s got a lot on her plate, but, you know, I’ll pass it along.” I tell Elmer. I step back inside and go to close the door. A hand comes against it.
So you have some balls after all, Elmer.
He acts bemused for a second, unsure of himself. “We could really use the help.”
I sharpen my tone. “As I said, I’ll pass it on.”
“I’m sorry, but you are?”
I smile. “Her knight in inky armor.” I close the door, don’t exactly slam it but make a not-so-subtle point of showing this jerk-wad who’s
boss.
I make my way up the stairs just as Haley is stepping out of the shower. I get a quick glimpse of her breasts, nipples glossy pink, before they’re wrapped up with a towel.
Haley looks up and sees me, smiling.
I take her by the hips, kiss her long and deep. I make no attempt to hide my burgeoning erection.
“Andy will be awake soon,” she says.
“I can be quick,” I whisper.
She pulls back, holding the top of the towel. “Did I hear someone at the door?”
Now fucking Elmer’s cock-blocking me. They should rename this town Clamjam.
I lean against the wall, steam continuing to drift around the room. “It was just some guy wanting you to go into town, pack supplies or some shit.”
I see the panic form on her face. “Oh, damn.” She’s looking around for her clothes. “I’ll get dressed right away.”
I take her by the shoulders. “You sure?”
She seems confused. “About what?”
“I’m getting a vibe people don’t really appreciate you around here.”
“You must be mistaken.” She’s so naïve it’s almost adorable.
“I’m not going to repeat what I heard, but I don’t think you owe these people anything, Haley. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
She laughs, light to cover up her insecurity. “If someone’s in need, I help out. It’s just how I was raised. I don’t know any other way to live, Dane. I help people. It’s what I do. I’m ‘Haley the Helpful,’” she trills.
It’s time for a shot of undiluted truth. “You’re being used, after everything you do around here. Look,” I breathe out, letting go of her shoulders and taking her face in my hands, “I get it, and it’s none of my business, but you’ve got to start looking out for number one.”
“Number one?”
I point into her chest. “You, silly. You’ve got to start looking out for you.”
She presses up against me. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is. You’re what? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-two,” she replies.
