by Lia Riley
“The feeling’s mutual.” He throws me on the bed and climbs on top. “Why did you think I’d want another girl?”
“That’s what guys dream about?” A lie, but a good one.
“Who says?”
“Everyone knows that.”
“Who the fuck is everyone?”
Entering the truth circle, ready or not. “I was scared, all right?” When people have hurt you the way I’ve been hurt, it’s easier to keep everyone at arm’s reach.
“Scared of what?” His face softens, his expression tempting me to do the most stupid thing—be honest.
“Of wanting you.” I bite the inside of my lip. “I don’t know what you are to me.”
“Can I be the guy who dreams of you?” He kisses my forehead, above each of my eyes. “I won’t hurt you.” He slides his lips to my cheek. “I’ll never hurt you.”
“That’s an impossible promise.” I rise on my elbows and suck his neck, revel in the slightly salty taste, the way the scruff prickles my tongue. “Everyone always hurts everyone. We’re hardwired that way as a species. But whatever…” I bite down. “Hurt shouldn’t be feared, right?”
His dick thickens against me.
“You can hurt me,” I murmur. “In a good way.”
“Like spanking?”
Curiouser and curiouser. “Would you like that?”
“No.” He frowns. “You’re not a naughty toddler.”
I slide my hand to his buckle and flip it open. “But I can be naughty.”
He leans his weight onto one arm. His bicep flexes, but doesn’t tremble. With his other hand, he yanks down the front of my cami, and my nipple emerges, flushed and hard, all “Why, hello.”
If my nipple could speak, she’d have such a sultry voice.
He traces the tip with his tongue. Okay, he’s doing that exactly right. Not too light to be ticklish. Good pressure, and fuck. A nip. Teeth, but in a good way. He does it again.
“This kind of hurting?”
I open my mouth to say yes but only squeak. I’m so sensitive there. He sets a pattern between soft but sharp bites and a slow wet circle of tongue until my brain cells are caught in an invisible gyre. I’m getting sucked down a drain of desire, and what a way to go. Good-bye, world. I see the light.
Then I remember my hand is still hovering outside his pants. Two can play at this game. I reach inside. He inhales, giving me more access. There’s not a lot of room to maneuver into his boxer briefs. Time for a lesson on how a little can be so much. The tips of my fingers brush his balls, and he jerks. His arm isn’t steady now. The trembles vibrate into me as he sucks harder. God, yes. Sometimes I can come from this alone if the guy is good, and Tanner is better than good.
Maybe the best.
Why are his moves so awesome?
I cup his balls, then squeeze the base of his shaft and stroke to the tip. Why?
He doesn’t act like a practiced player, a guy whose bag of tricks is uniform and mass-produced. No McDonald’s orgasms here, ladies and gentlemen. Whatever Tanner’s cooking up is homemade, artisanal goodness. God, I love his dick. He’s big, but not enough to make me need to calculate how many times I can take it before I’ll need a break. He’s thick, but without being a battering ram.
I hate to let go of him, but these pants need to come off. He moans in protest.
“Patience,” I chide, fumbling his top button. I’m eager. I want this. It’s hard to focus on anything else. Then his pants are off, his cock against my thigh.
I close my legs together and press on his length as his gaze darkens, sweat sheening his hairline. Oh yes. Why have I not been doing this all day?
“I’m never sharing you.” His stormy gaze tells me he means it.
“I’m sorry about Chloe. I wanted to keep my distance. This thing between us is kind of a lot.”
“It’s me and you—of course it’s a lot.” He presses a kiss to the edge of my jaw. “But there’s no room for anyone else here.”
“This isn’t a fling, is it?” I lift my hips so he can pull off my pants.
He’s got a condom out, sheathes his dick in one grasp. “All I can do is make it hard for you to leave.”
And then he’s in me and leaving is the last thing I’m thinking about. He thrusts, and we’re in regular missionary. I should be rolling my eyes, or filing my nails, but he’s not just banging into me, heedless of my pleasure. He cares about how he moves, and I find myself caring how to make it good for him. This is more than sex. This is making love, a term that usually sends me mock gagging for the nearest exit.
His pecs flex and his absolute focus causes dangerous hope to flare in my chest.
He lets out a sharp exhale. “I’m close. Too close.”
I stroke his ass. It’s firm and perfect, enough to hang on to, with hard muscles indenting on the sides. “Take me there.”
He grabs me and rolls, and I ride him wild. He sits, helping me get lift and slamming me down. “Lean closer,” I gasp. He does, and I nestle my clit right against his pubic bone. He’s got me under the ass, slamming me up and down. He’s holding me and I trust he won’t let me go, that he’ll keep me safe. My body slaps his. I’m a panting, graceless, gasping mess and yet I’ve never felt so free. Trust and vulnerability—who knew they could be so hot?
“Now, Sunny.” His voice is violent, but I’m not afraid. “Come.”
I bite his shoulder hard, and he thumbs my clit. My entire body is one furious clench as we gasp each other’s names. We’ll never be the same again. We each carry a piece of the other. The way he watches me, I know he’s in this for a long time, not just a good time. And that idea doesn’t seem so scary anymore. In fact, I can’t wait.
Chapter Fifteen
Tanner
Sometime during the night I lose track of Sunny’s ending and my beginning. Everything I give her, I get back twice as much. I don’t know how this strange trade happens, only that with her red hair in the lamplight and her mouth working magic, I’m burned into something new. Instead of being a pile of ash, I’m reforged, touch by touch and kiss by kiss.
She falls asleep in my arms. I hold her as she drifts, wanting to stay awake. This is an evening I never want to end, but then my eyes open and it’s morning. Sunny watches me, and my heart gives a funny sideways lurch. She doesn’t bolt for safety or get dressed. We’re naked, belly to belly.
She brushes the hair from my forehead. “Want to go again?”
How do I say this? “I don’t know if I can.” I lost track last night after the fifth time. We might have gotten to six, or maybe that last one happened in my dreams. All I know is that I’ve fallen hard while skating, worked my body over, and I’ve never been this tapped, even as happiness buzzes through my chest.
“Thank the old gods and new.” She collapses against my chest with a giggle. I breathe her in, the smell of sandalwood and meadow grass. “I might be broken.”
“Shit. Are you okay?”
“I mean broken in the best ways.” Jesus. She practically purrs. “You made me hurt so good.”
“Why’s sex an oxymoron?”
She tweaks my nipple. “Look at you. Green, busting out the thesaurus.”
I prop up on my elbow. “Hey, just because I haven’t gone to college doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”
Her eyes widen. “I know. I know that. Besides, I have a bachelor’s in fine arts and a fat lot of good it does me. I’m a cashier at the natural-food store.”
“Thought you did that to get bulk discounts on tofu and hemp granola.”
“Hey, don’t knock hemp granola until you try it. But yeah, discounts are good, the store is cool, and so are the customers. But mostly I keep doing it because it’s easy.” She frowns. “You’re the first hard thing I’ve done in a long time.”
I wait a beat, and she catches herself.
Her blush is cute. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“You can walk into me anytime.” She’s got me now, and it won’t take
much to crush me.
“Sex with you, why did it change things? I feel like it’s changed things.”
“Everything’s changed.” My whole world.
“But why?” Her brows knit. “I mean, it never has for me before. When you break it down, the mechanics are simple biology. You have a reproductive organ and you insert it in my reproductive organ.”
“I insert it?”
“Thrust it?” She rocks against me. “You like thrust better? What about cock ram?”
The shit she says. “Get over here.” I roll her over and spoon her small frame. She fits me perfectly and loves to cuddle. I could hold her forever. The thought comes out of nowhere and I almost push it away. Sunny is like her name. You can’t hope to hold sunshine. You can only bask in it for as long as it’s there. But weather changes. There are storms. Night always follows day. I know what I want can’t happen, but who ever said wanting needs to be reasonable or even sane?
“Let me come with you,” I say.
“I think you did.” She grins. “More times than I can count on one hand.”
“You know what I’m saying.” I don’t trust Delilah an inch. I don’t want Sunny going by herself.
“Oh.” She stretches that word out a long way. “I don’t know.”
I loop my hand around her belly and draw her closer still. “Be straight with me.”
“Part of me doesn’t want you to come, but I’m nervous to go alone. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mom. She’s worse than you remember.”
Worse than the image of her hand slamming into Sunny’s face? I’ll never forget that day. I’d left my shoes outside. Delilah broke so many dishes that it was impossible to cross the kitchen without stepping on a shard. Mom had to get out the first-aid kit when we got home. She apologized every time she dug into me with the tweezers.
I hated every single tear that fell down Mom’s cheeks. My feet hurt like crazy, but I still went out that night, skated to the boardwalk to find Sunny, check if she was okay. Her mom might be crazy as shit, but that didn’t mean I blamed her.
At least I didn’t until I found her at our agreed-upon meeting spot with her tongue shoved down some guy’s throat. What’s worse is that I knew she wanted me to see it, to hurt me, to drive me away.
The thing is that at thirteen, I didn’t get the why. Just the how.
And the whys are important. Sunny made out with that guy for the same reason she brought Chloe into our room last night. She’s afraid of being close, of people seeing too much, so if she can find a way to keep them distant, then she can keep things easy.
“I know you like easy, Sunny, but hard can be better.”
She wiggles against my growing erection. “You make a compelling case.”
“Is this too much?” I don’t want to do it again if it won’t be good for her.
She throws a thigh over my hip. “No one’s ever accused me of good judgment.” Her kiss shuts me up. I’m not finished with this conversation, but first I need to see if morning Sunny sex is as good as night Sunny sex.
Turns out it’s better.
Afterward, in the shower, she wipes the spray from her eyes. “Yes. Okay.”
Instantly, I know what she means. “You’ll let me come to Delilah’s?”
“Yeah, but I need to explain a few things in the car.”
No matter what Sunny says about preppers or the fact her mom and stepdad are part of a movement that believes our country’s on the verge of war or a zombie apocalypse and stockpiles weapons in their remote bunker, nothing quite prepares me for what it’s like when we slow down in front of a chain-link fence topped by barbed wire. A guy in a camo shirt reading DON’T TREAD ON ME approaches and motions me to roll down the window. The heat slams us like a wall, the air-conditioning useless against it.
“You’re on private property,” he growls.
Sunny leans forward. “My mom is Delilah? I’m here for a birthday party? My brothers are Gauge and Colt?”
He grunts and grabs the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “I’ll check with Hoss.”
“Hoss?” Sunny pales. “But I thought he was—”
“In jail?” The guy sneers. “Those pigs had nothing to go on. They released him last night.”
“Fucking fuck.” Sunny flops against the seat and punches her door.
“This is bad?” I mutter. Sunny hadn’t had much to say about her stepdad.
“My mom is bad. Hoss? He’s…worse.”
Don’t Tread on Me walks away to have a quick conversation on the walkie-talkie. Finally, he looks over and calls, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Tanner Green,” I say.
“He’s with me,” Sunny responds. “Sunny Letman.”
I grip her hand. I am. I am with her. Whatever happens.
Don’t Tread nods and gives us a wave. “You’re clear. Go on in.” He unlocks the gate and waves us through. We bump along a two-wheel drive, pausing when a rattlesnake slithers across the road, disappearing into the dry scrub on the other side.
“Who’d raise kids out here?” she mutters as we get close to a small compound. A camo-painted SUV is parked in front of an open shipping container. There’s a large rainwater tank and a big fuel-storage container beside a cement bunker.
“Wow.” Sunny forces a laugh. “Home sweet home.”
“What’s Hoss like?”
“Someone who found a portal from the Mesozoic Era. He makes Neanderthals look evolved.”
A guy as wide as he is tall lumbers out of the bunker.
“Speak of the devil,” Sunny mutters.
Before I can ask anything else, she’s leaped from the car.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she snaps.
The giant spits a wad of chew on the ground. I’ve got my door open and am beside her in a flash. Not leaving her alone with a guy who has an AK-47 strapped to his back. Don’t think he’s off gopher hunting.
“Where’s Delilah?” Sunny’s using a voice I haven’t heard before even against me when things were at their worst. That’s hate in her voice. Actual hate.
“Inside.”
“Does she know I’m here?”
“She knows what I want her to know.”
“She invited me. I didn’t just happen to wander by for a cup of sugar.”
“Who’s this joker?” Hoss scowls at me.
“He drove me. His name is Tanner. Tanner Green. Lydia’s son.”
“Lydia.” Hoss looks me up and down. “Why’s that name familiar?”
“Because my mom was in love with her before she rebounded on your piece-of-shit dumb ass.”
I flex my calves. What’s she doing? This guy has a gun and outweighs me by a good hundred pounds, but no way will I let him hurt Sunny. No one is around for miles. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This place. It’s wrong. Something is off. Coming here was a bad idea.
Instead of getting angry at Sunny’s outburst, Hoss busts out laughing. He swats the air like the words mean less than nothing. From the way her cheeks flush, I can tell he’s getting the reaction he wants. She’s playing right into his hands. I don’t like this game.
“You can stay for the night.” The look in Hoss’s eyes while he checks out Sunny makes me want to puke. “Not your friend though. You”—he looks in my general direction and spits again—“get lost.”
“No way.” I shake my head at Sunny. “I’m staying if she’s here.”
“Guess this is what they call a conundrum, isn’t it?” Hoss reshoulders his gun. I doubt that was an accident. He wants to issue a not-so-subtle reminder. He’s got ammo, a compound, and probably a rocket launcher. Sunny brought only one thing in her arsenal, me.
“I just want to see that Delilah’s okay and give the boys their gift.” She holds her ground. “Please. I’ll be out in twenty minutes.”
She’s already accepted a birthday party isn’t happening. Hoss looks ready to party but in the wrong way. He stares at Sunny like she’s a turkey d
inner and he wants to set into her with a fork and knife.
“Never mind. Let’s go,” I say to Sunny through clenched teeth.
“You waltzed in here at the wrong time.” Over his shoulder, another guy approaches. He’s dressed in army fatigues and carrying a black trash bag. A sketchy vibe hangs in the air.
“Let me have this one quick chance.” Sunny’s not picking up the danger signals, or ignoring them, focused on meeting her little brothers. “You’ve taken so much from me.”
Her words hit me like a bullet. Did this fucker ever lay a hand on her? As I take a step forward, there’s a crash.
A woman yells, “We have a problem.”
I turn and Delilah’s storming from the bunker. Her hair is still red, but not the way it used to be. She must dye it—the color’s harsh, and so is her face. Her features are gaunt, and angry sores ring her lower lip. You can tell her life hasn’t been easy. Pain, anger, and resentment etch the hard lines that bracket her mouth.
“Mom?” The way Sunny sounds, she’s as shocked as I am by Delilah’s appearance.
“Sunshine?” Delilah pulls up short. “Why are you here?”
“Um…you invited me, remember? Birthday party?”
“I left you a message a few hours ago. Party’s off.”
“We’ve been driving through the desert, Mom. There’s no reception out here.”
Delilah gives a dismissive snort, scratching her arms. “Hoss, there’s chatter on the scanner. We’ve got a problem.”
“What kind?”
“If we don’t get that crank out now, we’re going to have company.” She juts her chin at the guy with the trash bag.
Hoss removes his cowboy hat and slams it on the ground. “Goddamn. I just got out. No way am I going back in a fucking cage.”
“I know, baby. I know.” Delilah massages his beefy, hairy arm before breaking into a manic giggle. “Shit. I’m ampin’ so hard.”
“Mom, Jesus Christ, are you on meth?” Sunny’s expression is deadly. “Where are the boys?”
Delilah drapes herself on Hoss. “The pigs are on the scanner. They’re coming for us, baby.”
“Who tipped them off?” Hoss turns and glares at us.
