Disorderly Conduct

by Tessa Bailey

  “Ever . . .” I rasp, licking at her top lip. “More.” My hips rear back and roll forward. “Give me more of that. Need more of everything you got.”

  Same way we do everything, what happens next is instinctual. Ever’s hand puts pressure on my shoulder, but I’m already rolling onto my back, my spine curving like it’s going to snap. She’s never moved on top of me like this. Like she’s riding a mechanical bull in slow motion. Tweaking her hips back until she’s dancing on my tip, swiveling her hips on the way down, rubbing her clit on the thickest part of my root. I’m turned on out of my mind, because that place where we’re joined is so fucking wet, I know she’s hot for an orgasm. Needs it. But she wants the build.

  Jesus, I want it too. I need her mouth. I want all of her against me, so I don’t miss a single shudder or gasp or bead of sweat. Jackknifing into a sitting position, I band an arm around her waist, pumping my hips in that same deliberate, but filthy grind. “Put your hands on top of your head,” I growl against her mouth. Her wet, swollen mouth. “Take all that hair and get it up. Let me see your neck. Need to see every part of you.”

  Her face tips up toward the ceiling on a moan, her body riding mine in long, hot glides. Those hands of hers shake as she gathers her blonde strands, making a mess of it on top of her head. “Charlie, it hurts,” she whines. I live for that whine. “I can’t last.”

  This is the other reason I wanted her hands on her head. Her nipples shake when she comes and now they’re right there, swaying in front of my mouth like God’s gift to man. We might be making love, but I still lap at her tits like a filthy beggar, sucking them deep into my mouth, batting them with my tongue. “Somewhere along the line, you became mine, didn’t you, Ever? Didn’t you?” My own release is building, snatching away any control I have over my mouth, my actions. “I’ve been writing my name on every part of you. Knew it and couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t help it since day one. Mine, mine, mine.”

  The muscles in my stomach start to contract, twisting and knitting into a pattern old as humankind, but new and fresh every time with this woman. Looking down, I watch her take my cock in and out, faster now. Faster. Her hands are still locked together on top of her head, making her look like a prisoner. My prisoner. Except, I’m hers. This whole time I thought our lack of commitment was setting me free, but in truth, she’d thrown away the key to my freedom the minute she opened her mouth. She didn’t mean it, my Ever, but I’m imprisoned forever, just the same.

  Her pussy tightens like a fist on me, telling me the end is coming. I suck her nipple into my mouth the second tremors begin to rack her body, her hips pumping overtime, her lips busy on my face, in my hair. Kissing, gasping, kissing.

  “Charlie.” Her voice vibrates, catches. “Stay, stay, stay.”

  My heart hurtles into my throat and expands to eight times its normal size. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not tonight. We grit one another’s name as she bears down, working out the last drop of her climax—and then I’m on top again. Mindless. Living for my next thrust. “Pull me in tight. Help me get so deep. Help me.”

  Ever’s fingernails dig into the flesh of my ass, yanking me toward the wet goddamn paradise of her hot, little pussy. Our damp skin smacks together, both of us moaning loud enough to drown out the music, the groaning bedsprings. I can’t keep my mouth off of her. It’s sucking on her neck, attacking her lips, raking over her ear and whispering filthy words, praising words. A rushing sound is blaring in my head like static. I need to come. Need to come. But this could be the last time with Ever and I hear the sounds I’m making. Like a wounded animal. A desperate idiot.

  I’m holding on until I can’t anymore.

  “You’re disappearing into the crowd again, Ever,” I say against her mouth, even though the words were meant to be contained in the whirling shit show inside my head. “You won’t ever get hurt, as long as I’m breathing. I’ll know if you’re in trouble, won’t I? I’ll know and I’ll come get you. You’ll let me, won’t you?” My lungs are drained, my body falling into the abyss, driving into my home, again, again, again. “Say yes, say yes, say yes. Don’t take that away from me.”

  “Yes.” Ever’s thighs hug my waist, the miracle of her hands helping me grind out my peak. My hips are moving in a jagged, unpredictable rhythm, but Ever knows exactly when to lift, when to squeeze. When to lie still and let me pummel her with rough pushes of my draining cock. “Yes, Charlie,” she cries into my shoulder. “Yes.”

  But when I fall on top of her a moment later, sweat sliding off our skin into the bedclothes, I wrap my arms around her. I hold tight. And I swear, I can still feel her vanishing. No.

  Ever must sense my struggle, because she finds a way to save the moment. Make it last forever. Lip caught between her teeth, she eases out from beneath me and flings a hand out to some nearby surface, bringing back her phone. Then she takes a picture of us together where we gasp, side by side, on the pillows. The picture I asked her for that day we kissed in the park hits my phone across the room a few seconds later. We meet eyes . . . and she’s so beautiful, I never want to look away.

  I’m not sure I can anymore.

  Chapter 22

  Ever

  I’ve never experienced this floating feeling. It’s not like the buzz that comes after one glass of wine, or the post-tequila shot fizzy lift. This post-sex, presleep period is a notch in the space-time continuum where everything outside the bed is just old Friends reruns and loathsome responsibilities. There’s no reason to leave. Ever. Especially when Charlie’s hand creeps across the bed and our fingers slide into a smooth, woven pattern, totally singular to us.

  On the street outside my building, the sounds of Manhattan ensue. Metal gates being pulled down over storefronts. Hot dog carts lumbering down the sidewalk to whatever magical land they disappear to overnight. Cabs tapping their horns.

  Inside, though, it’s just breathing. Music still drifts from my iPhone into the room’s darkness, artificial light seeping in through my blinds to highlight the sheen of sweat cooling on our bodies. I’ve never felt closer or further away from anyone in my life as I do with Charlie right now. It’s almost like we’re on two different ships, both standing on the ends of a plank, facing one another. One of us need only take one step, climb onto the other’s plank and be taken into the safety of the ship, but the tide keeps bobbing up and down, keeping the elusive something we’re seeking just out of reach.

  Here in reality, though, we’re in my bed holding hands. And I’m trying really hard to be content with that. Something happened between us when Charlie was inside me. It’s never been like that before. Intense, desperate, raw. He’s still here, too, his fingers wrapped tightly around mine.

  What happens next? Do we spoon? I can almost hear Charlie asking himself the same question in some discombobulated inner male dialogue. Truthfully, I would die to have Charlie pull me back against his chest, curving his warm body around mine. I would die to fall asleep with his deep breaths in my hair. Of course I want those things from the man I’m in love with. Of course.

  Have I decided to be Charlie’s friend with benefits? To attempt baby steps with him, like spending the night and holding hands . . . and hope for the best? No. I’ve made no decisions or devised any plans. I’m only living in the world of tonight. The world where Charlie spends the night in my bed and I don’t have to say goodbye while my heart is still racing from sex. Maybe I’m just hoping the universe tilts and rights itself, doing me a solid, so I can continue having this man in my life without experiencing any of the pain.

  “Ever,” Charlie murmurs into the darkness. “Do you ever think back to when you were . . . I don’t know, seventeen? And do you remember how positive you were at seventeen that you had everything sort of figured out? You thought there’s no way I can speak to people better than I do now, or be more self-aware . . .”

  “No way I can drive more efficiently or understand stand-up comedy better . . .”

  His laugh drifts across the bed an
d curls up in my ear. “How did I know you would understand?” My heart squeezes, but I don’t answer. “So even though we look back and know damn well at seventeen we were still learning, here we are at twenty-three, thinking the exact same way. We have it all figured out.”

  “And you wonder if, when we’re thirty, we’ll look back and shake our heads.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I know we will.” I turn onto my side, yawning into the pillow. “The good news is, we never would have had this conversation when we were seventeen. We didn’t have the hindsight yet. The fact that we have it now . . . that has to be progress. And admitting the problem is the first step, right?”

  “Yeah.” He rolls onto his side, too, bringing our faces mere inches apart. “Or . . . doing something again and again while expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. I guess it depends how you look at it.”

  “I like the progress version better than the we’re insane version.”

  His lips tilt up, but his eyes are serious. “I don’t want to turn thirty and wonder what the fuck was wrong with me at twenty-three.” The muscles in his throat slide up and down, his hands tightening around mine. “You know what I mean, cutie?”

  My body tenses, every pulse point ticking like a clock in hyper drive. What is he saying? That he wants to pursue an actual relationship, so he doesn’t regret letting what we have fall by the wayside when he’s older? Or. Or is he telling me he doesn’t want to saddle himself with a girl, because he might regret it when he rounds the corner into his fourth decade? His eyes . . . it’s hard to tell in the near dark, but I think they’re apologetic. Oh God. Asking him to stay was a mistake. This is his exit strategy. “Y-yeah, I know what you mean.” I try to take my hand back, but he holds tight, his brow furrowing. “It’s scary to think decisions you make at twenty-three could . . . put you off course—”

  “Right. I think. There’s more than one course, though, right?” He goes up on an elbow, so he’s staring down into my face. The intensity of his concentration momentarily steals my breath, so I can’t dissect the doubts sprinting through my mind. “You can’t focus so much on one course, you forget the one running alongside it. Through it.” He gives a nervous laugh, but once again, his eyes are laser focused. “I’m not sure we’re on the same page here, Ever.”

  “What page are you on?” I whisper, scared to find out. Relieved I’ll finally know what he’s thinking. Polarized by the possibility of change. Loss. All of the above.

  The music cuts out as my phone starts to ring across the room.

  Which is the shittiest timing on the planet.

  Especially because Charlie is breathing heavily—so am I—and we’re staring at one another in the darkness, like two people who left a costume party together and just removed our masks for the first time. I can barely move or blink, I’m so consumed by the way he’s looking at me. But a memory from earlier today intrudes, and I have no choice but to go answer the phone.

  “That’s my mother’s ringtone,” I say, remembering how optimistic she’d looked today. Just for a hint of time. “I—she was going out tonight, and it was my idea. I just need to make sure she’s all right.”

  Charlie nods, but I can see he’s frustrated by the interruption. “That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay.” I let go of his hand and slip from the bed, stooping down to drag on my underwear and discarded shorts. By the time I reach the phone, it’s ringing for the second time, causing panic to slither into my chest. Crap. What if something bad happened on her night out, setting her way back . . . and it was my idea. “Mother?” I answer. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Better than okay.” Her enthusiasm, though restrained, reaches out and grabs me through the phone. “I did what we spoke about. I put on the green dress and went out to a singles mixer I overheard my coworkers babbling about. And it was awful. It was just awful.”

  In the window, I watch Charlie climb out of bed and approach me, his cock halfway to hard again, rebounding off his upper thigh with each step. A distraction for the freaking record books, but I command myself to focus on my mother’s words, even as Charlie’s hands settle on my hips, his lips pressing a kiss onto my shoulder. “If it was so awful . . .” I inhale through my nose, out through my mouth. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because it was fun, Ever.” Her high heels hit the floor in the background. “Once I got over the tacky décor and the terrible music, I just . . . talked to the people around me. I even danced a little. With men and women.”

  A little sound bubbles up and out of my mouth, heat pressing behind my eyes. I’ve never heard my mother like this. Never heard excitement in her voice before. Not unless it was for show. The dazzle in her voice now is genuine. And we’re sharing this moment together. “That’s amazing, Mother. It was really brave of you.”

  “Oh, pshh. Enough about me.” Clatters ping down the line, and I envision her removing bangles and earrings, setting them on her dresser. Charlie’s tongue slides up my neck, clenching muscles I thought were retired for the night. I can see in the window, his eyes are shut tight, as if he’s savoring the taste of me, though, and I’m prepared to lose as much sleep as necessary. But I do my best to focus on my mother as her upbeat flow of words continues in my ear. “I saw all these lovely people coupling up and thought, I hope my daughter can have that. Someone to come home to every night. Someone who will put her first and always be there.” She laughs. “Even if it’s just to listen to Adele and drink mediocre champagne.”

  Charlie’s mouth stops moving. His eyes meet mine in the window, and I see devastation there. Just for a flash, but the impact is jarring, even if I’m uncertain what’s behind it. “I, um . . .”

  “Ever, we’re so alike, you and I.” A creaking in the background, like bedsprings. “Maybe you could have gone on happily following the rules. Being the second most important thing in a man’s life, one month at a time. But I’m here to tell you, the happiness doesn’t last. You’ll slowly start to believe second place is where you belong.” Her sigh finds my ear, just as Charlie’s hands drop from my waist, his forehead landing in the crook of my neck. “I know it’s early, but . . . well, have you met anyone worth gossiping about? Give me something. I just want to know you’re trying and you weren’t . . . affected by my example, Ever.”

  My breath catches when Charlie grinds his head into my neck, and I know he can hear every word of the conversation. What am I supposed to say? Yes, I met someone and fell in love, but I had to convince him to stay one single night? Isn’t that the opposite of what she wanted for me? “I . . . uh . . .” Charlie’s heat leaves me. With one last ravaged glance at me through the window, he turns his back and walks away. I’m left standing there, like a flag left out in the middle of a winter storm, rippling in turbulent gusts of wind. “I danced with some nice guys, Mother. Just like you.” Invisible bolts turn on either side of my windpipe. “It was good. I’m going to keep trying, and I’ve got that date with the fireman—”

  “Right.” I can see her stilted nod. “As long as you’re trying. You did so much to encourage me, and I just want to do the same. I’ve never been very supportive, and I’m so sorry. You . . . you really have no idea.”

  “It’s okay, Mother,” I manage. This is what I wanted. A reason to bond with my mother. Something to draw her interest and make her proud of me. It’s everything I hoped for, isn’t it? Yes. In a sense. We’re chatting on the phone and she’s apologizing to me, thanking me. I never actually thought it was possible. But I can’t shake the feeling I just sacrificed Charlie. Which is ridiculous, right?

  I’ll know if you’re in trouble, won’t I? I’ll know and I’ll come get you. You’ll let me, won’t you? Didn’t those words imply he won’t be here with me, unless I needed him? God, part of me wants to cling to that promise and accept it, but it won’t be enough. I wouldn’t only be disappointing my mother, I would be letting myself down.

  “I’m glad you had a g
ood night.” I turn to see Charlie sitting on the edge of my bed, hands clasped between his legs. Staring at the floor. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Good night, Ever.”

  I disconnect the call and set down my phone. The room is dead silent, except for the gentle hum of traffic passing by outside and Nina opening the door for the locksmith. When Charlie holds out a hand to me, I go forward and take it. He pulls me down into the mess of bedclothes, fitting my butt against his lap. I swear to God, I don’t hear him breathe once until we’re wrapped up tight, my head using his right bicep as a pillow, his opposite arm tucking me close. So close, my eyes burn. And then he breathes. Long, winded, agonized. Final.

  Without saying a word, he’s just told me this is the first and last night he’ll be spending in my bed.

  Charlie

  I just ran eight miles. Now I’m sitting in the deserted locker room beneath shower spray, letting it run down my face, my body. The gurgle of the drain is all I hear, but at least it’s keeping me company. I appreciate the gurgle. It’s helping to distract from the sound of Ever’s apartment door clicking shut behind me when I left her Wednesday morning. She didn’t wake up to see me out or give me a goodbye kiss. Or maybe she was feigning sleep. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

  We had an advanced gun safety demonstration today, and it ended four hours ago. I’d needed exertion, though. More than that. I needed to deplete every store of energy inside me, so I wouldn’t break down.

  A humorless laugh leaves my mouth. I’m sitting on the nasty ass floor in the locker room and I have no idea how long I’ve been here. If this isn’t a breakdown, I have no idea what the fuck one looks like.

  I miss her. I miss her. I miss her. I miss her.