The Goode Fight

by Seth King

  “Uh-uh, you’re not getting out of this, baby. You’re mine. Only mine.”

  For a moment Good Stellan tries to stop me one more time, but I banish him to the darkest recesses of my mind. I am going to watch this girl come, and I am going to love every minute of it. I nibble on her ring and she moans again, but this time it’s higher-pitched, like a cry. With my tongue still licking the ice cube in her bellybutton, I move my hand between her legs, push her dress up, and start rubbing her through her underwear. I know exactly the spot to play with, moving my finger in slow circles over it and then stopping every few seconds to apply light pressure. This combined with my sucking on her ring and the clamping of her wrists is making her wetter than ever; I can feel it through the fabric. She struggles against my hold like she’s tied up with rope, and the fact that she can’t move just seems to make her even more aroused.

  “Yes, baby,” I say as I stare up at her face. “I can feel how much you want me. I can see it. You’re so wet for me, baby. But I want you even more than that. Look at you, you’re perfect. Everybody wants you, but I got you. God, I want to fuck you, right here, right now. Take your fucking underwear off. Now.”

  I let go of her arms. Hesitantly, she slides off her lacy underwear and then pushes her knees together, embarrassed.

  “No. I want to see that,” I say as I force her legs open, and as I look down at her I feel an out-of-control hunger explode within me. My heart beats like a speeding train and my loins burn red-hot and my head feels like it’s about to burst. I want to drape her over the arm of the sofa and fuck her from behind until she comes, and then turn her around and fuck her while I stare into her eyes and brush her hair out of her face until I come. Make her mine, officially.

  But deep down I know I can’t, and that wrecks me.

  I lean up and whisper into her ear as I grab another ice cube from the glass.

  “Remember when I said I couldn’t fuck you, baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you with something else.”

  I reach down and grab my two-inch cross pendant.

  “How about fucking you with this?” I ask slowly as her eyes grow wide and nervous. “The cold metal sliding into you, the guilt of knowing what it represents…you want me to fuck you with this cross, baby?”

  After a few moments she nods hesitantly, and I pinch her nipple in response.

  “I’m not going to. Yet. But I will fuck you with this ice.”

  I return to her pussy and slide the glistening ice cube into her, making her take a deep breath and hold it as her core muscles contract tight and hard. She’s tight as hell and it makes me want to stretch her, but I can’t, so I’ll do the next best thing. As I pinch her nipples and return to licking her belly button ring I pull the ice out of her and then start rubbing it all over, going up and down and in a circle, flicking and slapping it against her clit, pushing it back inside of her every so often before pulling it out and starting all over again. She’s responding like never before, and I know the ice is exotic ecstasy on her skin- she’s never felt anything like it. Keeping my hand with the ice busy, I lean up again so I can get right in her ear. I know she won’t last long like this, with her nipple, belly button and pussy getting attention at the same time, and I want her orgasm to be fucking explosive.

  “If only you knew how hot you are, baby,” I growl into her ear. “You’re perfect. Look at you. Goddamn, I want you. All of you. Mi encanto, mami. Aggghhhh.”

  A low, guttural grunt escapes from deep in my throat. A sex grunt. I know what that means- I’m losing control. I get all kinds of crazy visions: throwing her over my knee and spanking her until her skin is pink and burning, making her put on a pair of painful heels and letting me fuck her while she’s standing in them, and I know I’ll have to stop soon.

  But luckily, she stops the process for me. After I slap her clit with the ice once more and then continue rubbing it in circles she opens her eyes, looks into mine, and then tilts her head back and opens her mouth to cry out. Fuck yes, baby. As she nears the apex I take the ice cube out of her, put it in my mouth, crunch it into pieces, and then lean in and kiss her.

  “See how good your pussy tastes, baby,” I murmur into her mouth. “It’s unholy. Literally.”

  She comes as we kiss, quaking and twitching under me, and I bite her bottom lip hard as she moans my name into my own mouth. As her breathing slows she opens her eyes and looks at me, her expression tender and appreciative, making the disgust roll over me in waves as I crash back down to Earth.

  Why did I do this yet again? How did I let myself come here? Why do I think I can do these things when I can’t? What the fuck is wrong with me?

  She peers into my eyes affectionately but I look away, unable to comprehend how she could even have feelings for a monster like me.

  “I have to go,” I suddenly say as I get up and hand her underwear back to her. “I’m sorry. I had fun with you at dinner, but I shouldn’t have done this. Fuck you soon, Taylor.” I wince and shake my head. “Ah, I guess you’re not the only one with grammar problems. I meant say see you soon, not fuck. Sorry.”

  “What?” she asks, sitting up. “You’re leaving again? What’s the problem?”

  I reach the hallway to the front door and turn around to face her. The affection I feel when our eyes meet fills my entire body with terror.

  “I like you, Taylor. I really fucking like you. That’s the problem.”

  9

  Taylor Haney

  I try to unlock the gate and save Stellan, but I can’t. The key won’t fit, and it’s so dark I can barely see anything anyway. A faint red glow emanates from behind Stellan’s head as he pleads with me to open the gate and let him out, and I can smell something burning in the distance, but I can’t tell what. People are screaming somewhere close, each of their voices an almost animalistic howl, and it makes the hair on my arms stand up. Stellan is slowly being sucked backwards towards the pit of fire, and my heart beats faster and faster as I try to shove the key into the hole. Just as it clicks and slides in, however, I notice a white glow and hear someone behind me. I turn to see Father Regan, the priest from my old Catholic church in Raleigh. As he stares down at me with disappointment in his grey eyes, he points in the direction the screams are coming from.

  “Do you have a confession to make?” he asks sternly. I want to admit what I’ve done, that I’ve corrupted Stellan, turned an angel into a monster, but I can’t form the words. I’m wracked with too much guilt. I shake my head at him.

  “Very well, then, Taylor,” he frowns. “You’re going instead of him. This is all your fault.”

  An unseen force pulls me through the gate and past Stellan, and just as I fall off the edge and start careening through the air towards the pit of fire and carnage, my eyes snap open.

  I stare up at the ceiling fan turning lazily in the mid-morning light and sigh. Thank God that was just a dream. I get up to pee, and while I’m washing my hands afterward I feel pain on my knuckle and look down and realize I’ve been subconsciously scrubbing my skin so hard, I’ve drawn blood. What am I trying to wash away, exactly? Am I really comfortable with bringing someone over to the dark side like this? I mean, Stellan has a sinful part of his personality, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a good person. He’s still a Christian. I think. Do I really want to corrupt that? And do I really want to potentially risk my soul for a few hot hookup sessions? I’m not a total nonbeliever, and I know what could the consequences could be: an eternity in fire and lava, eons spent suffering in a hellacious purgatory, etcetera. Considering what could be at stake here, do I really want to do this?

  I bite my lip as I picture last night, our best encounter yet. Our hookups have been weird and bizarre so far, sure, but they’re also amazing, and I during them I have connected with him on a level I haven’t with anyone in years. Maybe ever. And for some reason, that scares me just as much as it excites me.

  Heat blooms between my
legs as I picture the way he slammed me against the wall, the way he locked himself over me like I was tied down with ropes or something, the way he claimed ownership of me like that. He was truly in a class of his own. But once again, he’d stopped before we’d had sex. What a letdown. I giggle when I remember his little flub, “fuck you soon,” and think of the significance behind why that would slip out. If only you would, Stellan.

  I can’t deny that our hookups have felt…wrong. So dirty, so sinful. And so right because of it, too. The thing he did with the cross; his obvious angst about the whole situation. It’s the weirdest avalanche of emotions I’ve ever felt. God plus sex equals guilt, but it’s the most sensual guilt I’ve ever felt. So, in the end, do I feel bad? Yes.

  But not bad enough to stop.

  I go downstairs and head into the kitchen. I told myself I’d make a banana strawberry smoothie every morning this week and lose two pounds, but the cinnamon raisin bagels I’d stupidly bought the other day call my name from the top shelf of the pantry, and one look tells me I’ll be powerless to resist. I’m just sliding them into the toaster oven when I spot a Walgreen’s bag on the counter that I didn’t notice last night, probably because I’d gone straight up to my room after Stellan had ditched me and sat in the shower for thirty minutes trying to wrap my head around everything.

  Inside the bag I find a tube of Burt’s Bees chap stick, my favorite lip balm. How did he know? I wonder as I apply it to my dried and cracked lips. On the back of the receipt, he’d written a note in neat, angular handwriting:

  Taylor-

  Now maybe you’ll stop licking your lips all the time and driving me crazy.

  Thanks for hanging out with me again tonight. I’m already looking forward to Nashville. I think you’re just grawesome, babe.

  -Stell

  I clutch the note to my chest with a smile. What is wrong with this boy? He’s simultaneously rude enough to storm out of my house after hooking up with me, and thoughtful enough to go out of his way to lie about wanting Gatorade while really buying me chap stick and secretly leaving it in my kitchen for me? He gets me dinner and holds open doors, the ultimate Southern gentleman, and then throws my hands above my head five minutes later and does unspeakably dirty and subversive things to me? He just flips from one extreme to the next, with barely a sexy look in his eyes to alert me of the transition. And what was with this whole Nashville trip, anyway? Is he really so messed up in the head that he can’t find a girlfriend to bring, and he’s stuck with a second or third choice like me?

  No, I decide, I don’t believe he’s undateable. He may have problems, but he’s a beautiful person inside and out. He’s obviously only single because he’s put himself off limits. But why?

  As I finish eating, my mom calls, and I wipe off my hands and answer with a big smile.

  “Hey, Mom. Wow, it’s been a while. A week, at least.”

  “Hey, sweetie,” she says in her thick southern Georgia accent. “I know, it’s been too long. What’s goin’ on?”

  I’ve become a wild slut who is on the hunt to steal a celibate guy’s honor, I almost want to confess.

  “Nothing,” I say instead. “I’ve been really busy with school and stuff. I’m just trying to graduate with perfect grades, that’s all.”

  Not that that’ll ever happen, I think, but she doesn’t need to know that yet. The clattering sounds in the background notify me that she’s loading the dishwasher, and I smile again as I picture my family’s cute little routine and think of how much I miss it.

  “Good to hear. Have you been going to church?” she asks, and I snort. Um, not exactly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, nothing, nothing. My church attendance hasn’t changed since the last time you asked about it two weeks ago. And I know, I’m going to be struck down by God any day now because of it. Anyway, what’s up with you?”

  “The usual,” she sighs. “You know how hard handling you-know-who can be, especially when he’s in one of his bad phases.”

  “I know,” I frown. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more lately.”

  “I understand, darling. You have your own life to live. And it’s not just that. Work is ten kinds of terrible, and the Russells’ dogs just tore up my hydrangea beds, the mangy little mutts, so that’s been a pain in my side. And I’m goin’ nuts dealing with the caterers for the party. Barely anyone at the company speaks English, so telling them to make your Aunt Susan’s meal vegan, or gluten-free, or whatever her latest diet attempt is called, has been a nightmare.”

  I chuckle as I picture my poor Aunt Susan and her endless attempts at dropping her extra weight. “I feel so bad for Susan. Oh well, I’m sure she’ll find something that works eventually.” I lean against the counter and take a deep breath. “Oh, and speaking of the party, Mom…I don’t think I can come.”

  The background noise halts abruptly. I picture her freezing while in the middle of washing a plate, her mouth dropping open.

  “What, Tay? You love family parties. Why can’t you come?”

  I bite my lip. “Um, I’m going to Nashville. With a friend.”

  “What? What friend? What’s in Nashville?”

  I pick at my nail as I struggle with what to tell my mom. My situation with Stellan is…complicated, to say the least, and I don’t want to get her emotionally invested in case things don’t end well. But I also know that if I act evasive about it, it’ll just make her want to pry more.

  “His name is Stellan,” I begin. “He’s going to his parents’ work thing, and I guess he wants to bring someone. Not necessarily as a date, just as a friend.”

  “It’s a boy?” she asks. “Honey, you never said anything about a new boy. Cara’s mom told me you just broke up with the Australian guy the other day. Who’s this new one?”

  Great, now my mom thinks I’m some out-of-control slut.

  “He’s just a good friend,” I tell her. “Trust me, if he becomes something more, I’ll let you know before anyone.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” she asks after a short pause. “You’re missing the party I’ve been planning for weeks to travel to another state with a guy who’s ‘just a friend?’”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “And how do I know you’re not traveling across state lines with a murderer or something?”

  “I don’t think that’s a problem, Mom,” I tell her, but for some reason I feel a little uneasy as I say it. “He comes from a nice family; they have more money than God, actually. Not that it makes him a better person, but you know what I’m saying. He’s not some random guy from a back alley or whatever.”

  “Honey, some of the most famous killers in the world come from rich families!” she cries as the sounds of her dish washing resume. “You know, just the other day I was watching a TLC show about husbands who kill their first wives to marry someone younger, and this one man came from the richest family in Michigan and that didn’t stop him from cutting off his wife’s…”

  I sigh and tune out as she rants about her crazy dramatic shows for the next ten minutes. At least she’s off the Stellan subject. When she finally finishes, she goes silent for a minute and clears her throat.

  “Oh, and honey, I decided I’m making a demand. Since you can’t make it to the party, I want you to come stay with your father and me one night this week.”

  “But I-”

  “No buts. Don’t forget who is funding your whole life, sweetie pie, in the midst of our battle with the mortgage company and everything else. I must say, I was so proud when I opened your bank statement last month and saw five different trips to Carolina Liquors.”

  “It was wine!” I insist, hoping I’m telling the truth, even though I can’t quite remember.

  “I don’t even want to know. Anyway, I’ll make something good for dinner when you come, and I can show you what dad’s been doing in the garden. It’s the least you can do after leaving me high and dry like this. And speaking of that, do you have any leads
on any jobs yet?”

  Ugh. Not this again. Just to get her off my case, I throw something into the air. “Actually, I might be able to talk my way into a secretary job or something at Cara’s dad’s office in Raleigh. That is, if we don’t kill each other first.”

  She ignores my joke. “Well, do it, then. Call them today, actually.”

  Something sharp picks at my stomach. “Mom, I’m about to graduate with a degree from Duke, and you’re encouraging me to get a secretary job?”

  She stays quiet for a few long, loaded moments. “Yes, honey,” she finally says, grimness cracking through in her voice. “Things aren’t good at your daddy’s company. The sooner you can find something, the better.”

  I stare vacantly down at the bag of apples from the other night. I had no idea things were this serious.

  I agree to come see my mom soon and then hang up and attempt to work on a paper due after fall break, but I only write a little over a hundred words when my phone buzzes. My stomach shrinks and then plummets as I check the screen.

  Sure enough, it’s from Stellan. The terrifying dream from last night flashes before my eyes when I see his name, but I shake it from my head and read the text:

  Sorry about last night. Again. Anyway, I might have to go out of town for a night tomorrow, so I really wanted to see you today, but I figured we should maybe do something that doesn’t involve drinking wine at your house- too much of a slippery slope, haha.

  Which is exactly the point, I think as I tap a response. And where is he going? Ugh, we were on such a roll, too.

  Sure. I get it. What were you thinking?

  Four heart-stopping minutes later he responds.

  I’m playing baseball with my cousin and his friends at Eden Park in Raleigh in a little. Meet me there at like 12:30, after I’m done. I’ll send you the address and you can Google Map it.

  The thought of seeing him in baseball pants in public makes me want to kill myself- I’ll probably have another orgasm right there by the bleachers- but I agree anyway.