Miles

by H. J. Bellus

  It’s Miles. I turn around and start pounding on his chest.

  “You fucker,” I yell.

  “Calm down. What happened?” He chuckles. Apparently, me fighting another woman is quite comical to him.

  “You fucker,” I yell again, catching my breath. “You never told me it was til knock out. What if you…you know, and I couldn’t watch then, and that stupid cunt had to announce it to everyone that I don’t deserve you because I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t watch you be that man, Miles. I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about. Want to know how she responded?”

  “She’s not worth it, Willow. Words are all she has in her life.”

  “Well, she called me out as a rich princess, and then explained to me how you fucked her night after night. I lost it.”

  “You beat the shit out of her, Wils.”

  “Really, Miles? That is all you got from that? Are you fucking serious right now?”

  “Well, you did.”

  “She called me out in front of everyone and bragged about—”

  Miles stops me mid-sentence by throwing me over his shoulder and walking to the back of his car.

  “What are you doing?” I cry out.

  Miles puts me down on the trunk of his car. It’s nearly pitch dark now with the fire dying down and the crowd has migrated further towards the fire, secluding off his car from the majority of the audience. I watch as Miles unbuttons his jeans. He’s already bare chested and sweaty. I don’t notice any visible scratches or bruises on him.

  “What are you doing, Miles?” I ask again.

  “I am going to fuck you on my car like I promised earlier—balls deep, baby.”

  Miles swivels my legs to the side of the trunk, undoes my pants, and pulls them down, dragging my panties with them.

  “I need you now. I wanted our first time to be special and slow, but I need you. And I need you to know it doesn’t matter who I’ve fucked in the past. It’s you now. Only you.”

  “Take me,” I whisper.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard,” Miles growls in my neck.

  He scoots my ass to the edge and lowers me down, pushing my back against the car. I wrap my arms around his neck. Looking over his shoulder, I see Blondie and flip her the bird.

  Miles shoves into me without warning, causing me to yell with pained pleasure. He stills once inside me, picks his head up from my neck, and rests his forehead on mine.

  With his eyes closed, he starts to speak. “I have never felt this fucking good. I can’t move.”

  “Open your eyes and fuck me, Miles,” I beg.

  My words fuel Miles to start fucking me. He moves with power and rawness inside me, not slowing. Our mouths crash together and I let go of my screams inside him. “Free Falling” by Tom Petty fills the night air as Miles and I fully connect for the first time. He throws me up on the trunk on my back and is covering me in seconds. He reenters me with such force it almost sends me over the edge. Once on top of the car, he continues to pound into me.

  “Miles. Miles. I’m going to go.”

  He scoops his hips lower, thrusting into me, dragging heavily over my clit, and I release with a scream. I can feel his release building up as he pulses inside me. I’m finally able to look into his eyes and see the pure pleasure building for him. He has sweat dripping from his forehead, the veins in his neck are throbbing with each thrust and then he begins to grunt.

  “Go, baby. Go inside me,” I beg, needing him to fill me.

  Miles finds his release as he grunts and collapses on top of me.

  “That was perfect. Thank you, Miles,” I whisper.

  Miles keeps his face buried in my neck. “I can’t ever lose you.”

  Chapter 13

  Cupcakes, Anyone?

  Willow

  Waking up next to Miles is better than anything else I have ever experienced. It’s just another reminder that he’s mine forever. He’s still asleep after our eventful night at the fights and then more fooling around when we got home. The stubborn ass made sure to put the new sheets on the bed and Febreeze the whole trailer before we settled in. It took me going down on him again to finally convince him that I’m not going to get scared away by the sights or smell of this trailer.

  My phone vibrates from the headboard, and I quickly grab it before the vibrations wake Miles.

  Cree: How’s it going?

  Me: Great

  Cree: You happy?

  Me: Very!

  Cree: That’s all that matters then.

  Me: Promise me you will remember those words.

  Cree: Love you, sis

  Me: Love you, grande. Kiss the kids for me

  I shoot Tripp a couple updates as well since I have my brothers and home life on my mind. If anyone will understand my circumstances, it will be Tripp. He’ll be the one to logically think the situation through before reacting. Cree, on the other hand, is likely to blow his lid, depending on the way Milly reacts.

  Leaning up on one elbow, I watch Miles sleep and pet his hair. We both slept naked and entangled with each other all night. I lean forward and gently kiss his forehead.

  “I will always choose you, Miles,” I whisper to my sleeping prince.

  Miles’ phone goes off this time, and unfortunately it’s not on vibrate. He has never replaced the annoying fucker. He rustles around in bed and fumbles for his phone, and reaches it just in time. I listen to him try to carry on a conversation dead asleep.

  “What?” he groans into the phone. “Yeah.” He pauses. “How much did we pull last night?” Another pause. “Yes, I’ll be here for two days. Leaving Friday. Bye,” he says, and hangs up. “Morning, beautiful,” he mumbles and drags me on top of him.

  “Hey,” I reply.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “Not too long,” I answer.

  Groaning in pain, Miles admits, “I am so fucking sore. Tucker landed some good ones last night.”

  “Does my baby have some boo-boos?” I ask.

  Miles nods, grabs my hips, and lifts me up. In one swift motion, he enters me.

  “You are so naughty,” I groan in pleasure.

  Collapsing down in exhaustion on Miles, I giggle at our uncontrollable raging hormones that we can’t seem to put a lid on.

  “Oh, just in case you were wondering, I’m on birth control.”

  “I wasn’t,” he replies.

  “And it’s not because I’m a slut. There were some complications after the…” I trail off in silence.

  Miles lifts my chin up. “After you lost the baby,” he prompts.

  “Yes, after I lost my baby.”

  “I don’t care if you are on or off them.”

  I have no idea how to respond to him. Committing to him forever is one thing, but a baby is whole new level of discomfort for me. He doesn’t say a word, instead he just holds me to his side and I drag my fingers across his abs. I feel the slightly raised scars that I first noticed yesterday when exploring them.

  I stop on one of them and ask, “What are these from?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Mmm. Sounds familiar. Good. My notebook was getting lonely,” I reply, as I get up and toss him the notebook from my purse and a pen.

  Miles writes for several minutes while I gather our shower supplies and clean clothes for the day. I hear him toss the notebook and pen.

  “Done?”

  Miles nods his head.

  “Let’s go shower then,” I suggest.

  “Help me up, please?”

  I walk over to the bed and hold my hand out to Miles. He reaches for it, and using all my strength I tug on him to help him up. I hadn’t thought about it, but his muscles must be screaming at him after the fight and then our night of romping around. Miles tugs on my arm, and before I realize it I see that look in his eyes and the asshole pulls me back down in bed, straight on top of him.

  “You little sucker.”

  “I want you in my bed.”
r />   “We need to shower.”

  “We’ve got all day, babycakes.”

  ***

  “I have to go meet Lance,” Miles says as he finishes getting dressed.

  “You said that two hours ago,” I laugh.

  “I’m serious. Let’s go.”

  “I don’t want to. I want to stay here, clean, and cook dinner for us.”

  I look up to see a very stunned and frozen Miles.

  “I’m speechless,” he says.

  Laughing, I cross the room and wrap my arms around him, “I’m serious. I can walk down to the store and get groceries.

  “Okay, I guess. You know Mom will be here with you.”

  “I’ve got her handled.”

  “Walk me to the car. I’ll let Wynnie know what’s going on. You better cook enough for her, she’ll be thrilled.”

  “Always the charmer, you are,” I tease.

  We walk across the street and I see a lady on Wynnie’s porch throwing a massive fit.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “What?”

  “My cousin, Carly.”

  We get to the porch and for the first time I see a person who has been truly affected by drugs. The person in front of me is an empty shell covered in sores and scabs. Her clothes are literally falling off of her and she’s very fidgety when we arrive on the porch.

  My eyes notice a little dark haired boy holding her hand. He has piercing blue eyes and the sweetest little round face. He grips tighter onto the lady’s hand when we approach and immediately hides behind her tiny body. It’s very apparent that he doesn’t approve of our appearance.

  “What’s going on?” Miles asks as he steps up on the porch.

  “I need someone to watch Ridley, and Wynnie can’t.”

  Miles notices the little boy hiding now.

  “When did this happen?” he asks with anger filling his voice.

  “C’mon, Ridley baby, let’s go get some cookies,” Wynnie suggests, leaving us three on the porch.

  “What the fuck is going on, Carly?” Miles growls.

  “I just got him back, Miles. I have a job interview and need someone to watch him.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Miles challenges her. “Really? Where? With who? You got an appointment to suck your drug dealer’s cock?”

  “Fuck off, Miles. I’m clean.”

  “Drop the bullshit. Give Ridley a chance. You know he’s better off without you.”

  “The state gave him back. They think I’m a suitable parent.”

  “Well, newsflash—you’re not,” he fires back.

  “Stop,” I finally interrupt.

  They both listen and turn to look at me.

  “I’ll watch him today,” I suggest, fearing for the little boy’s safety.

  “Deal,” Carly says, and takes off, exchanging no further information.

  What the fuck just happened? This lady has no clue who I am or where I’m from or where I might take her son. Not one care or worry in the world about him. This poor kid has just been ditched by the person who’s supposed to love him and take care of him. Who knows what he’s seen in his short lifetime. My heart instantly melts at the thought.

  “Fuck,” Miles roars as he punches the side of the trailer.

  Wynnie races out to the front porch with a worried look on her face.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “I volunteered to watch him,” I squeak.

  “Oh, thank the lord. I couldn’t cancel my doctor’s appointment today, and I can’t stand having him in that home,” she whispers.

  “When did this happen?” Miles demands.

  “They dropped him off this morning. I knew that she was seeing him during supervised visits, but last I heard they had found a nice home for him,” Wynnie says.

  Miles wraps his arms around her, hugging her tight and the worry that passes between the two of them is very reflective of Miles’ own childhood. I finally convince Miles to leave, and then shortly convince Wynnie that two of us will be okay.

  I come to find out that Ridley just turned four this past September, does not talk much, and tends to have several accidents throughout the day. He wasn’t impressed when Wynnie left. Much like with Miles, Wynnie has constantly had her eye on Ridley, taking care of him every chance she gets.

  She explained to me that it was the hardest decision to call the child protective services, but with her age and health, she was unable to raise any more kids. Wynnie showed me the little dresser in her spare room where she kept plenty of extra clothes. I’m not sure why she called it a spare room, it was obvious this was a little boy’s room. She made sure to point out all of his favorite toys and the ones she thought he would be in the mood to play with. She also was very clear about talking to Ridley as if he was a normally functioning four-year-old.

  Ridley hasn’t moved from the couch since Wynnie left. I’m afraid to approach him because I don’t want to spook him or cause him to have an accident.

  “Ridley, I need to go to the store to get groceries. Would you like to walk with me?”

  Ridley shakes his head no with panic, so I take a few steps closer and kneel on his level.

  “Are you sure? We can play a game as we walk there.”

  He shakes his head again, refusing to make eye contact, so I inch closer to him. My phone goes off in the silent trailer, playing that obnoxious ass fox song. I quickly try to silence it, so it doesn’t spook him any further.

  “Fox,” Ridley says.

  “Yes, the fox song,” I say, as I hold my phone out to him.

  He takes the phone from my hands and hugs it to his little chest.

  “Fox,” he repeats.

  “Want to hold my phone while we walk to down to the store?”

  Ridley bobs his head up and down. He reaches up with one hand to grab mine and keeps the other tightly clutched to his little chest. I grab the bag that I packed with some extra clothes and snacks in it.

  “Let’s go, Ridley,” I say.

  “Go fox,” he repeats.

  “Yep, with the fox,” I say, smiling down at him.

  Looking down at Ridley clutching my phone to his chest, I instantly feel sick for the lost little soul. Such a sweet baby brought into a cruel world with no hope of ever knowing true happiness. He might have Wynnie to rescue him from certain situations, but he truly doesn’t have a safe haven, just like Miles never had.

  Milly may be pissed at Miles for springing this secret on her, but at least she escaped this cruel world before her childhood was kidnapped permanently. She felt love, she had love, a safe home, and a caring poppy to raise her. These boys weren’t as lucky.

  Without thinking, and swept up in the memory of a baby Miles being abused and abandoned, I scoop Ridley up in my arms. The shocked look on his face reminds me of his fragile state. I do what I would have done to Mac, Rose, or Annie—I kiss his cheek and then blow raspberries against it.

  “I keep fox,” he says, with furrowed eyebrows of concern.

  “You keep fox, silly boy.”

  Ridley is quite the little trooper while shopping. He doesn’t speak another word, instead just clutches his fox to his chest. Every once in a while I reach down and hit play on the ringtone for him. It’s an instant smile from him.

  On the way home, he decides to walk, which helps make carrying the couple bags I have much easier, but I notice he always has to have a hand on me or one of the bags.

  “Ridley, do you want to go to the park?” I ask him.

  I’m not sure the play structure we passed on the way here hardly qualifies as a park, but from my experience with Annie, my imagination can make do with anything.

  “School,” he says.

  “Oh, do you go to a school with toys?”

  He shakes his head up and down.

  “Let’s go play,” I say.

  We spend nearly an hour at the park swinging and going down the slide. My phone keeps going off while we play, and I can tell Miles is trying to call.
Finally, I’m able to accept the call and put it on speaker while Ridley holds it. I assure Miles that we’re doing just fine, and he lets me know that Lance’s dad needs some mechanical help and he’ll be home in a couple hours.

  We make it back to Miles’ childhood home hungry and exhausted.

  “Mies,” Ridley says as we make our way up the steps.

  “Yes, this is Miles’ place. He’s not home, but let’s go make some lunch.”

  After we enter the trailer, Ridley stays glued to my side. I manage to set the bags down on the counter in the kitchen. Thankfully, Sarah is still in her bedroom. Miles said she will probably stay in there the whole time to avoid us. I sit Ridley on the counter and talk to him while I take out the groceries, naming each item, and then prepare our lunches, slicing up some apples and making turkey sandwiches.

  While Ridley eats and listens to music on my phone, I start a batch of cupcakes. Nothing fancy, just a simple chocolate batter with buttercream frosting. They are Miles’ favorite kind, and I also plan on making him lasagna for dinner, another favorite of his. Surprisingly enough, I find one actual cupcake pan hidden away in a drawer. I wash it off with hot water and dish soap, and when Ridley sees the pan, he goes wild.

  “Cupcakes. School. Pretties.”

  “Ridley,” I exclaim.

  “Cupcakes,” he shouts again, and rubs his belly.

  “Yes, cupcakes. Did you get cupcakes for your birthday at school?” I ask as I walk over to him.

  “No. Lucy. Cupcake.”

  “Lucy got cupcakes?” I ask.

  “Yes, cupcakes,” he says again with his first genuine smile of the day.

  “These are going to be Ridley’s cupcakes,” I cheer.

  Ridley sets down my phone in the remnants of his turkey sandwich and starts clapping his hands together. I clap with him, and throw my arms out to him. Ridley jumps into my arms, wrapping his arms around my neck. I hold him on my hip as I fill the first cupcake tin. Then I hand him the spoon. Ridley shakes his head no at me.

  “Trouble,” he says.