The Breakup

by Erin McCarthy

  That made me laugh. “First of all, why is that so horrible? Second of all, who the hell do you hang around with? I’m not going to just pull my dick out and wave it around in the woods.”

  Bella walked over to me, tossing her hair back. “Male humor is a strange thing. It was a reasonable assumption, you know.”

  “Not really.” I took her hand though and tugged her to the left. Buried in the trees was the abandoned railroad car that someone at some point had parked here for kicks. “It’s a caboose. I loved playing in this when I was a kid.”

  “What? That’s crazy. Who put this here?”

  “I think my grandfather. It has blankets and books and some pipe tobacco in it. Or it did when I was a kid.” But when I pushed the door open and took in what was in there now, I said, “Holy shit.”

  “What? Are there bugs? A dead animal?” Bella grabbed my back and squeezed my flesh, her head poking up over my shoulder as she tried to peer around me to the dim interior.

  “Uh, no. Not even close. This is someone’s personal red room.” I shifted so she could see. “It’s a fuck shack.”

  “What…” Bella’s voice trailed off as she took in what I had already seen. “Is this what a red room looks like?”

  “Someone’s version, yes.” It was quite the setup. A mattress on a bedframe, not currently made, but with restraints in the four corners of it, waiting to be wrapped around ankles and wrists. Behind the mattress was a shelf with all sorts of toys, from a whip to a crazy amount of oils and vibrators. I flicked open an armoire to my right. It had fresh linens folded up in it, along with bottles of wine, glasses, and candles. Yep. Fuck shack. I had a thought. I pulled out my phone and composed a text. This had the stamp of my brother all over it. Not Cain, Camden.

  WTF is up with the old caboose by the camp?

  “This looks fun,” I told Bella. “I like the atmosphere. It’s cozy and sexy.”

  “But it’s…just for sex.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Who does that?” Bella had moved inside and ran her hands over the whip, as if she was curious, then jerked her hand back like she’d been scalded.

  “Anyone lucky enough to have a caboose, I guess.” I wasn’t scandalized. I was fucking turned on. This was way better than the cabin, which was cute and basic. This was really a place where you left the world behind and indulged in dirty deeds. Perfect.

  “I don’t think we should be here. What if you don’t own this and someone finds us? OMG, what if a serial killer lures women here and murders them?” Bella grabbed my arm.

  That amused me. “I don’t think serial killers provide pinot grigio, fresh sheets, and lube to their victims, but I could be wrong.”

  “You don’t know. It could be their fantasy.”

  “What the hell kind of fantasy is that? I’ve never heard of a Bed-and-Breakfast Killer.”

  Fortunately my phone buzzed before Bella could spin a whole tale of our murder in the woods. It was Cam.

  Like my getaway? Use it if you want but replace the wine and wash the fucking sheets.

  “My oldest brother did this,” I told Bella. I turned my phone so she could read his text. “We’re safe.”

  So you come to Camden and don’t tell us? You’re a dick.

  You can come to New York and not tell me and I’m cool with it.

  Go fuck yourself.

  And that was the extent of our texting. He read it but didn’t respond. He was probably busy being a pretentious asshole.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. “I guess we should go.” She whirled around.

  I didn’t move.

  She slammed into my chest. “Ow!”

  “Let’s have a glass of wine,” I said. “I want to check this place out more thoroughly.” I reached over and pulled a feather tickler down out of the cabinet. I ran the soft feathers over the palm of my hand.

  “What does that feel like?” Bella asked, sounding intrigued.

  “Like a feather.” I ran it down her bare arm. She jerked away.

  “Ew, don’t do that. Who knows where that has been?”

  One could only speculate. But I knew my brother. He was an OCD control freak with a shit-ton of cash, initially made playing online poker and then in real estate. I had no doubt he restocked with fresh supplies after each play session. “It’s brand-new.”

  “You don’t know that!” Bella let out a shriek when I touched her with it again. “Stop!”

  “You want me to stop?” I waved the feather again, grinning at her as she actually leaped onto the mattress to get away from me.

  Bella was laughing as she held out her hands to block me when I pretended to jab at her with the feather tickler like a fencing sword.

  “That is so gross, it’s probably been all over someone’s, you know.”

  Her inability to talk dirty killed me. “What? All over someone’s pussy?” I stopped jabbing at her and instead stepped onto the mattress. “Is that what you mean?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think so.” I crooked my finger at her. “Come here.” I was done resisting temptation with Bella. This caboose was basically a sign from the universe to fuck Bella and fuck her now. I owed my brother a quality bottle of whiskey for his sweet little setup.

  Bella’s giggling cut off. “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding breathless and turned on. Her tongue slipped out and ran across her bottom lip. Her brown eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her sundress.

  “I mean, quit running away from me and come here so I can kiss you.”

  To be honest, I didn’t think she would actually do it. I was right. She was still in the mood to be silly. With a laugh, she tried to dart past me. I grabbed her around the waist and tickled her ribs.

  “Oh no, don’t tickle me, please,” she said, jerking in my grasp. “I’ll die!”

  That made me laugh. I kept tickling. But what I didn’t count on was her flailing and laughing and shrieking so dramatically that she fell trying to get past me. Bella tripped and tumbled to the mattress as I said, “Shit, are you okay?”

  She landed on her knees and giggled, instantly raising her hands up to shield herself. “No tickling. No more, please.” Her voice was breathless.

  “I swear, no tickling,” I said, holding my own hands up. She was adorable on her knees, smiling and flushed. “Though I think you’re being a little dramatic. You can’t die from tickling.” I dropped down to my own knees in front of her.

  “I could. I could legitimately have a heart attack and die. It hurts. It’s like being stabbed.”

  Now I shot her a look of total disbelief. “Okay, princess.” I tucked one of her errant curls behind her ear. “I doubt you can claim to know what it feels like to be stabbed. I can’t either, but I’m one hundred percent sure it would hurt more than being tickled. Though you are very cute when you exaggerate.”

  “I’m not—”

  I cut her off by kissing her. I had told her she was a lot of work, and that was the truth. She was. She was also sexy and sweet, and after years of experiencing women as jaded as me, she was an intriguing mystery. It wasn’t an act, yet it was still just so hard to believe that a woman her age could be so naïve, so gullible, so caring, and so damn prudish. Yet be so oddly sophisticated.

  Part of me wanted to bask in her, absorb some of that pure simplicity. That belief in right and wrong and the conviction of exactly what her life was. Or had been. So I kissed her, and it was demanding, my lips taking hers with passion, my tongue teasing her to open for me.

  I thought she might push me away. But she didn’t.

  Instead she kissed me back and we fell onto the mattress in a tangle of arms and her long, blond hair.

  * * *

  —

  Christian kissed me w
ith urgent and aggressive kisses and I thought I should hate it. But I didn’t. There was something about his intensity that was more comforting than frightening. The way he stared at me, as though he well and truly saw me, always stopped me a little in my tracks. No one really saw me. They saw what they thought was me. The pampered princess. The basic beauty. The rich girl. The arm candy.

  Not many people cared about discovering who Bella really was. But the way Christian looked at me, his gaze unwavering, his icy blue eyes penetrating, I felt as if he was actually interested in me.

  His kisses felt the same way. Not like he was trying to take from me, but as if he found me so fascinating he had to have more, over and over. As we settled back onto the mattress, our breathing hot and heavy in the dim and quiet room, I closed my eyes and gave into the kiss. To the passion. To him.

  There was no outside world. There was just here, this caboose filled with stale air, warm and still. There was only Christian above me, his face so new to me, yet so attractive. I ran my hands up his arms, wanting to test and feel his muscles. His smell was earthy, masculine. He didn’t wear any cologne that I could tell, and his beard was rough.

  I didn’t speak when he stood up and retrieved a clean sheet and threw it down onto the bed. I just tucked in the edges so it would stay secure and watched him, my heart racing with excited anticipation. He knelt over me and gave me a smile that made my insides tighten with desire. He put more sex appeal into a smile than any man I’d ever met in my life.

  When he shifted the neckline of my sundress so he could suck the swell of my breast, I stiffened slightly, then relaxed. I wanted this. I wanted to see what he could do to me. How he could make me feel. I wanted to feel sexy. Normal. Desirable.

  As he kissed my neck, his finger teased at my nipple and I wanted to tell him not to bother, that my breasts weren’t sensitive. But whatever he was doing felt oddly good. It was sending little jolts through me that stirred an ache between my thighs. I gave a sigh without meaning to.

  “Does that feel good?” he murmured.

  “Yes,” I said, and I could hear the wonderment in my voice. It did feel good. It was curious and strange. “My…aren’t usually sensitive, but this is…something.”

  “Your nipples, you mean?” he asked, running his thumb back and forth over one of them. “You have perfect nipples, Bella. So pink and tight and delicious.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling flustered. I had never received a compliment on my nipples before. I was going to ask him how nipples differed, but then he lowered his mouth and drew one in to suck gently and thoroughly. “Oh,” I repeated, this time from surprise. What the heck was happening to me?

  Christian had slow, persistent movements. His fingers brushed over me, down to my hips, teasing across the front of my thighs, back up to my breasts. On to my shoulder, my neck, my lips. All while he tasted my nipple, flicking his tongue over first one, then the other. It felt like he had all the time in the world, like he was taking a lazy trip down the river, not trying to get in my pants.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself, with my hands, and I kept moving them, shifting, trying to find the right place to rest them. On his back. His shoulders. By my sides. His head. Christian lifted his mouth from my chest and gazed up at me. “Bella.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to move your hands and I don’t want you to freak out. Do you trust me?”

  That was a frightening question. I wasn’t totally sure of the answer. I stared down at him, his pale eyes filled with desire and maybe something like compassion. I thought about how he could have taken advantage of me in my drunken wine-and-doughnut haze when I had basically thrown myself at him asking for sex. He had turned me down. He had picked me up without question when I had texted him. And he had backed off in the cabin just twenty minutes earlier when I had panicked a little.

  “Yes. I trust you.”

  He kissed me. “Thank you.” His lips teased over mine as he raised my arm up above me on the mattress.

  Suddenly I felt the cool slide of fabric over my hand, tightening on my wrist. I jerked, trying to move it away, but it was locked in place. “Christian! Did you just tie me up?” I was aghast. “I told you I like vanilla, basic sex. Just put it in and be done with it,” I said, feeling more than a little freaked out.

  Him telling me not to freak out wasn’t going to prevent it from happening.

  “You also told me you want to expand your skill set.” Christian ran his fingers over my lips and down my chest. “Just relax, princess. I promise you’ll like it. You need to let go, Bel. You need to close your eyes and feel your body.”

  “I feel my body,” I protested.

  “Then this should be fun.” He was already shifting my other hand into a restraint on the opposite side of the headboard.

  The sensation of having my arms spread over my head, my breasts pushed forward, made me feel exposed, vulnerable. My natural reaction was to clamp my legs tightly together. I was glad my dress was still on even if the neck was yanked down.

  “Now you don’t have to worry about your hands,” he said. “It was distracting you. And me. I solved a problem, so just go with it.”

  He was already back to sucking my nipple and I drew in a few deep breaths, trying to relax, pondering what he had said. He was right. I had been distracted. This did remove my concerns, even though it felt foreign and more than a little naughty. It also had the effect of lifting my breasts toward him, and I had to admit, there was something sexy about that. I sucked in a breath when his big, rough hand shifted under my dress and massaged my clit. He was so gentle, so seductive, yet everything about him, from his hands, to his chest, to his jaw, was hard, rough.

  I shivered and jerked away when suddenly the soft whisper of a feather ran down the side of my bare breast. “Christian, no…” I murmured. “I don’t think…”

  But I lost the thought when it shifted over my wet nipple and it felt sexy. Arousing. Just a simple, erotic tease. “Oh.” There was an answering pull between my thighs, deep inside me. I shifted my legs, uncrossing my ankles, feeling a restless awakening.

  Christian studied me as he ran that feather everywhere, along my neck, my nipples, my thighs exposed below my dress. He watched me with an intensity that sometimes made me want to close my eyes, but at the same time I couldn’t because I had to see him. He grounded me. He was my focus point, my reassurance. It was like Christian was strong enough for him and me both, because I felt weak right now. Everything with the wedding and Bradley and a total shift in my life and the understanding of who I am had me vulnerable.

  And Christian knew that.

  He was in charge, and in the weirdest way, I wanted that. I liked it. I could let go, just like he said.

  It didn’t mean I was totally comfortable, but I was also very much turned on.

  Christian shifted my dress up with his hand so it bunched up at the waist, along with being pulled down at the neck. The illusion of being covered helped me feel relaxed, especially because my panties were still on. My bra was yanked down, but it felt like a barrier that I needed right now. His touch through my panties was more arousing than I would have expected. I didn’t even balk when he slipped a finger into my impressively damp pussy.

  I was ridiculously proud of that moisture. It didn’t always happen, not readily anyway. Bradley could have bought stock in lube and made a killing given how much we needed for our sex life. I assumed it was me.

  But after a few kisses, a few minutes of having my nipples sucked, a little light feather tickling, and I was warm and welcome for Christian. Oh, not to mention I was tied up. And enjoying it. It gave me a shot of confidence. I didn’t protest when he slid my panties down, though I did jerk a little when his mouth descended onto me.

  “I don’t know…” My protest was weak and uncertain. My legs were still firmly together and he didn’t attem
pt to pry them apart, which helped me relax again.

  “Just give me a minute. I want a little taste, princess, that’s all. If you still don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

  His beard tickled my inner thighs. This didn’t feel bad. He flicked his tongue over my clit. In fact, it actually felt kind of good. Maybe it was because I wasn’t spread open like a Thanksgiving turkey getting stuffed. Having my legs together made it less suggestive. It was just kind of warm and cozy, his hands brushing over my waist as he gently explored.

  It was interesting. He stroked, and while I wasn’t sure exactly how amazing it felt, my body was responding. That ache he had inspired was growing stronger and I was becoming wetter. When he sucked on my clitoris, I actually let out a gasp. “What…”

  I wasn’t sure what I was asking, I just knew that I had turned a corner because holy shit, that felt like something really good. It was like adding sriracha to hummus. It kicked it up a notch. He didn’t suck long, just enough to give me a little heat, then he went back to using his tongue in soft strokes.

  “Still okay?” he murmured. “Or should I stop?”

  “Don’t stop,” I heard myself pant. “Oh geez.” I jerked my hands against the restraints, wanting to either push him deeper into me or yank his head away, I wasn’t sure which. But I was trapped. It was sexy as hell, which shocked me. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I shifted restlessly on the bed.

  “I won’t stop, I promise.” He did that thing again where he dipped deep inside me.

  Then he utterly shocked me by reaching up with both hands and squeezing and twisting my nipples. I let out a cry of pleasure. I wasn’t sure where the feather had gone, but I was way past that soft tease. I liked the twist he was giving my taut nipples. It was an amazing trifecta. A trio of stimulation. My thighs clamped on to his head without my realizing it. I was trying to hold him, and with my hands unusable I needed something, some way to ground myself.

  Briefly I closed my eyes and dragged in a deep breath.

  And suddenly, without warning, I came. With a power and an intensity I had never known. It felt like I was sucked away on a tidal wave and tossed into the ocean. First a violent tumble, then a silent descent into an abyss. A dark hole of ecstasy. I couldn’t make a sound and I couldn’t dig my nails into him. I could only arch my back, let my eyes roll back in my head, and let pleasure wash over me.