The Rental

by Rebecca Berto

  I shook my head. No, he wasn’t going to say—

  “You. Because you owned that sexy as hell get up in those thigh-high boots. You loved what you saw, and that confidence was such a turn on. One of the guys told me something about you before I came up behind you on the dance floor. I was so mad that I wanted you there, consequences be damned. I stopped myself then, and I’m trying like fuck to stop myself now, but I don’t know if I can if you become a rental.”

  He leant back into my neck and held his lips there, gluing me to him with pure lust. Delicate and strained breaths heated me up, scorching me inside and out.

  I turned my chin to him, so I could see his face. “There are things you mightn’t know about me. I’m a virgin, Rick. I’m virginal, unexperienced, and awkward. But I’m also so …” I couldn’t make myself say the word the first time, so I tried again, “so wet feeling you behind me, feeling the way you touch me.” I paused. “And remembering those girls all over you. Could I pretend to be a person I’m not?”

  He ran his palm down my cheek and fluttered his eyelids closed, groaning, and hugging me tight with his other hand around my waist. He sighed, defeated, and then said, “You’re pure, desirable, and confident. If you be exactly you, I promise it’ll be everything any man could ever want.”

  “Even you?”

  “Especially me,” he said, sounding pained. I frowned up at his eyes.

  I didn’t know if Rick wanted to take my virginity and fuck me senseless, or if he wanted to make me his, but I knew I wanted too many things.

  I wanted to embrace bad.

  I wanted to make him hot, bothered, hard, and pained, and I wanted him to be mine.

  I wanted to become a rental, but trembled at the idea, too.

  I wanted to break all the rules.

  And I wanted to stop thinking about the consequences.

  “Let’s keep tonight quiet,” he said.

  “The movie or this discussion?”

  “That,” he said, “and this.”

  He pointed up at the screen as Rose told Jack to touch her. I couldn’t look away as they made a hot mess of those windows and their looming fate. Neither could I pull away from the aching between my legs. I ground against Rick’s hardness, which emitted a low groan from his gritted teeth.

  Rick said, “And this,” as he slipped his hand under my panties.

  I whimpered, arching into his hands, aiding them into me in one thrust. He pulled out and touched me in ways I hadn’t been before. Definitely not in such a knowing way. I’d only ever been teased before. Rick didn’t enter me again with his fingers, but rather, he rubbed my clit in ways that made me itch—itch to roll away, to roll harder on him, to find the root of the sensation, and to ride it all the way out.

  I stiffened my toes and all the way to my neck, straining and pushing down on his shoulder. I moved the side of my hand to my mouth to silence the imminent scream that would both release and embarrass me. He pulled it down and told me, “But don’t you dare keep that quiet.”

  I bucked against his firm grip on my wrist and came onto his fingers—with no choice but to scream his name up to the ceiling.

  • • •

  RICK AND I didn’t bother with the rest of the movie after my screaming show. Titanic grazed the iceberg, flooded, and sunk—we both knew it. But the movie played in the background and it amped up my pulse and had my heartbeat heavy in my temples. The intimacy coupled with the suspense had me high on alert.

  I turned to my stomach and nestled against him chest-to-chest. His erection was hard as rock, as was his stomach while he took my weight. With laser precision, his brown eyes shot a ray all over me; from eye to eye, and then stalled at my lips. It continued around my shoulders, skimming my breasts, which pressed into a hard line of cleavage from my resting point.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  After moaning, shrieking, and writhing my little body to its climax, I wasn’t thinking much. I had come only a few times with Justin—thinking his name here now, made me cringe—because I couldn’t get there, and several times by myself in this very room, but none of it compared to Rick’s expert touch.

  So, I was thinking … “Wow.”

  He pulled me up under my arms, dragging me close to his face. The new position left his erection a whisper from my butt, so I clamped my legs shut to feel him against me. His eyes rolled for a split second, and then his eyelids fluttered closed. I couldn’t see the direct lust, but I felt the power tingle all over me by what I could do to him.

  “I was also thinking …” I let my intention simmer between us with a few batted eyelashes.

  “Vee?” He picked me up and placed a kiss at the top of my breastbone, and then returned me. He slid off my cardigan, kissing the bareness exposed, then said, “I didn’t know.”

  I also didn’t know—what the heck he was talking about. I clinched my lips together and wrote my name on his T-shirt with my finger, watching myself instead to give him a moment.

  “The way Justin talked about you, he made it seem like you did things all the time. And lots of everything. I want it to be me, Vee. I want you to give that to me when you’re ready. I like that it feels a little less twisted, me and you, here, knowing you’re untouched in that way.”

  “Is that a request on the when but an order about the whom?”

  I winked, but he worked his jaw. He didn’t see the humour I did, obviously, and meant it seriously.

  “Yes.”

  “A lot of girls would be offended by how you are bossing me around, Rick Delaney.”

  “I’m not interested in impressing a lot of girls, Vee Wyland. And I can tell you know that.”

  Of course, he could. My stupid mouth was upturned. I was thinking not very nice things, and he could read that as easily as the M&M’s packet lying uselessly on the side of the bed.

  “I don’t want you working at The Rental,” he said.

  “What?” I spluttered.

  “You heard clearly.”

  I scooted off him and sat cross-legged. I felt stripped at that second, even though he’d taken my cardigan off a while ago. I grabbed my cover and threw it over my lap, cuddling it up to my chest. I had goosebumps over my skin as well as a flush under my arms.

  “You can’t dictate what I can and can’t do.” I faced his side. “I’m not your inferior, and I don’t owe you anything.”

  My words slapped me back in the face. I wanted to pinch them from the fragile air. It wasn’t completely true. He had held me as if I meant everything to him at his twenty-first. All the time he was here before that, he’d watched out for Justin and me, dropping us off, picking us up from gatherings, parties, and hanging out, lingering and waiting in his car.

  And now, it had been three years of building angst, and it erupted into the most explosive and erotic moment of my life.

  “I don’t want you in The Rental world—why can’t you see that?” He jerked upright eating up the space between us and making me flinch. Like a little girl, I clutched my bed cover to my chest tighter. He kneeled up, towering over me. I didn’t know what he would do, hoping for him to grab me and throw me down or hug me.

  With steady hands, he cupped my jaw on either side, fanning his long fingers over my cheeks and through my hair. He hadn’t washed his hands, and I became hot and bothered at the fact my own juices were on his fingers. They happened to be touching me too, and I didn’t know how to feel about that.

  “I’ll lend you money. I’ll lend you whatever you need until you get on your feet.”

  “I can’t take your money,” I whispered, staring up at his eyes. I’d never revelled in feeling so small and helpless as I did then.

  “Well, I expect it all back, so you can take it. I’ll even make you pay interest.”

  I cocked my head to the side, mocking him with my expression. That action alone was filled with attitude. However, it was the fact he had me in his power, yet allowed me to give him cheek that said more.

 
He wouldn’t charge me interest; he wouldn’t even lend the money. He’d be gifting it to me, and I couldn’t accept that. Mum and I weren’t looming on eviction notices yet. After that point, I’d consider, but only if I knew he’d lend me the money and expect it back.

  We stared each other off, frozen in our positions until I swayed my balance to the side, wanting to lie down. He supported below my shoulder blades and lower back. I held no strength—I gave it all to him for the choice of what to do with my body.

  He looked me over, and then laid me down. I shifted so my thighs opened up around him, my feet curled back to touch his calves. My hands were crooked on either side of my head and my chest rose and fell with large heaves.

  Rick’s resolve was strong. My submission tempted him—oh, how it did. His loose pants once with a bump of desire now tented out fully. His arms bulged, fists flexing on either side.

  “You are testing me, little vixen.”

  I wiggled my hips, pulling my top up to my ribs. It was hot, after all. Sizzling. I made a sound of fatigue, sweeping my arm over my forehead.

  “And I’m not happy,” he said.

  I sighed, the seriousness of our deepening conversation dawning on me. “Rick …” him and I, us together—it was dangerous, like stabbing at a bee’s nest and expecting an explosion of golden wings.

  “You have options.”

  “Don’t you think I know? I’m an adult. I have a mortgage and a part-time job. I want you, but I need this job.”

  The Rental was a way out, but now that it was really happening, it was helping me explore me. The Rick I flirted with and spoke to before all this was charming, gorgeous, and caring, but I hadn’t known he had this darker, secretive side. I couldn’t forget the sight of his tented pants in the staff room of The Rental. I couldn’t forget, along with his flexing fists, dominant stance, and strong words how his eyes undressed me, how he rode me with his fingers, and how he hardened at the sight of me.

  “Vee …” He rubbed linked hands up and down the back of his head fast. “You know what those clients will want with you? They want what I want. And it cuts me up to know they’ll get that innocence, a kiss, or the chance to get off over something you do.”

  I shook my head and closed my eyes. It stung, but I couldn’t rub the hurt from my eyes. It’ll be just like those girls over you at your party except it’ll be me—me and another man.

  “Don’t,” he growled, “don’t say that.”

  I snapped my eyes open. “What?”

  “‘It’ll be just like those girls,’” he started, “‘except it’ll be me.’”

  “I had to watch,” I snapped.

  “That was—”

  “What? Before? Don’t try to tell me watching them naked and arousing you won’t be the same as—”

  “What?” he countered, firmer and louder than I had spoken. “Won’t be the same as you naked and parading yourself around for guys?”

  “Yes!”

  My scream echoed through the room and carried down the passage. Anger had coiled around fear—fear of hurting each other’s feelings, and now it had free rein. Both of us were slightly out of breath and red in the face.

  He bent to me, arm rock solid all the way over his rippling shoulder muscles. With a pointed finger, he growled through clenched teeth, “Do you enjoy being a little vixen? Hmm?” His finger curled, and it pulled up my attention. “Am I not enough?”

  I swallowed my tingling fear, the one that told me I was about to push too far. I smiled on instinct. “It’s just that …” I started, unable to finish.

  Finishing my thoughts aloud meant saying how my dad had passed, and I had failed. How I had smoked joints and lay in bed enabling my hopelessness. I’d been the ugly in my world. It wasn’t something I was ready to share, even with Rick.

  This job could bring the money to become the leader, call my own shots. I’d felt for Rick from afar for years, through the forbidden and the distance. Now we’d be forbidden and thrust together in a world that would ignite a multitude of emotions.

  We’d already made it this far with no expectations. My head told me we’d be able to deal with the jealousy that would entail, but my heart—it sent a cold shiver of fear all over my skin.

  Rick’s expression morphed into a firm grimace, misreading my words and the lull. “Fine. Excuse me a moment. I need some space.”

  “O-okay,” I mumbled. My voice exposed my fear. I’d pushed too far. Stupid and cocky, I assumed I knew what to do. My answer lay in Rick stalking off and slamming the bathroom door shut.

  I rolled to my side, cradling my face in my hands and let out a pent up breath, breathing deeply for a few minutes, and rolling over my mistakes.

  Rick called out then and cut through my sadness. “Toilet paper.” His voice was loud but broken, cut up, and shaky. I had no idea what to make of it.

  I grabbed a roll and came up to the door. The sounds behind the door snatched up my attention. We had enough toilet paper in there. We should have even had a spare roll in the holder. The bastard wasn’t piss—

  I wrenched open the door and found him gazing at the ceiling. His teeth bit down on his lips, and two tensed arms angled in a V-shape between his legs. Seconds later, spurts of creamy revenge shot into the bowl, wasted.

  They were wasted because I wanted them.

  He turned to grin at me, knowing my thoughts. He held his hard cock in his hands, working the last of his come into the bowl and then—like he was simply pissing—held out his messed up hand and said, “Thanks,” plucking out the roll from my hand.

  I took in the cocky asshole, standing legs apart, directing his manliness to the bowl, and standing confident with deep satisfaction. He wiped down his cock and hands, and laid the roll down on the old one.

  “I wasn’t happy, I told you.”

  Then he shut the door.

  • • •

  I STORMED TO my room and went straight to my bedside table. What I needed—a bag—was in the second drawer shoved under some balls of socks. I took it out, laid out the contents and rolled them up, sealing it with my tongue.

  I pushed away the parts of my mind that told me this would be a mistake, and dug out the lighter, hearing the satisfying burn of ignition. I inhaled, sucking the smoke deep inside me, filling me up with the all-consuming relaxation I craved. My racing thoughts pierced me like knives, but as the smoke occupied every fibre of my body, they numbed. The deep breathing soothed me, and the weed ran over me in tingles, swirling around my head.

  Rick approached the door slowly, warily sniffing the air. His eyes locked onto the hand and the joint I held to my lips, sucking. I took a long drag that made my head spin, and smiled the whole while.

  “Ahhh,” I sighed. “I decided I couldn’t wait to suck on something long and satisfying. I needed release.” I pointed to him with that hand. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  He ground his teeth. “Grow up.”

  “You grow up.”

  “What the actual fuck? You’re smoking in your room? Where did you get that?”

  I chucked my thumb over to my bedside drawer.

  “Grow. Up.”

  “Me?” I took another drag, and then left the rest to dangle off the bedside table. Rick’s eyes flew there and then back up at me. I spoke quickly, cutting him off before he could.

  “You don’t get to tell me shit, Rick. You up and left a long time ago. Were you too blind to see I liked you? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for months after you left or when I gave up hope and let your brother into my life. I thought of you through every screwed-up moment. And for what? For nothing. You come back all merry and happy, not caring who or what you left behind. I’m not going to let you order me around, and if becoming a rental is a mistake, then let me make it. I made a mistake letting you get to me when you left so easily. And if you want to play the game of revenge, I can play it back just as hard.”

  He stormed over, the rumbles from his steps running up my legs
with every step he took closer. He snatched the joint from me and held it up.

  “You have no idea why I had to leave, so don’t judge me when you’ve been doing this the whole time.”

  “Vee?” a small voice called out.

  Rick and I turned to see Mum at the door, hands over her chest. Her glare shot straight to the joint between Rick’s fingers and then up at him to the way he domineered over my little body.

  “Rick Delaney,” she said, short and stern. “Out of my house.”

  I shot my hand out, both blocking Rick and pleading to her. “No, he didn—”

  “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry, Mrs Delaney. I’m sorry for everything.” He grabbed the packet of M&M’s nearby and used the plastic bag to cover the end of the joint and stub it out between his fingers. He took the lighter and the rest of the supplies, stuffing it into his hoodie’s pocket and then walked out, head hung.

  I wanted to make him stop, but I couldn’t move an inch—of my mouth or legs. Shock was debilitating.

  His footsteps retreated to the door, and then it slammed shut. All that was left was the unruly state of my bed and the heavy stench of lies.

  “You poor thing,” Mum said, coming up to me with open arms. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Those bloody Delaneys are both trouble.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  She held me in her arms while I stared—past the open door of my bedroom, past the walls to my front door, and into my own past.

  I’d have to do a lot more staring, though, to figure out the hads and whys.

  • • •

  IT FELT ODD.

  Being in Mum’s arms was like being given a gold medal for a race I cheated in. I clapped my hand on her back lightly pushing her back, and finally said, “Hi.”