by Haley Jenner
“Fuck me,” I growl, licking my lips.
The head of my cock lines up to her heat and she leans forward, her lips tickling my ear. “I asked you first.” Her teeth bite into my earlobe and I surge forward, burying myself completely.
Fuck. This woman is going to be the death of me. And I don’t even know her name.
The back of her head slams against the wall and she opens her mouth on a silent scream, her brow furrowed in pained pleasure.
“You’re tight.”
She rights her neck, biting her bottom lip. “You’re big.”
Our clichés break our faces open in amused smiles, soft laughter shared in the breath of air between us.
She’s tight as fuck, her walls clamping down in a way that tells me she’s unaccustomed to my size. My crazy girl hasn’t had dick in some time. I’m totally fine with that, I’m more than happy to reintroduce her into the world of stiff cocks and dirty fucks.
“So, Thor, you gonna fuck me or just stand around with that hammer buried deep inside me?”
Man, she’s something else and my dick can’t get enough. So, in a dingy bar, music pounding in our ears, surrounded by a crowd of people, I do as she asks. I fuck her. Hard. Against a wall. One hand clutching her ass cheek, the other held tightly around her throat to keep her midnight eyes on mine.
If anyone notices what we’re doing, they don’t show it or don’t care. Maybe the seediness of this place doesn’t warrant prying eyes or it’s just such a common occurrence, this crazy girl of mine and I are just part of the regular scene. Who the fuck knows. I couldn’t give a shit. All that matters in this moment is the desperate need I feel to explode inside the girl with the dark eyes; shadowed both in color and pain. The one person that’s sparked any kind of reaction, physical and emotionally, in almost too long.
She comes quickly and for the briefest of seconds, I consider she faked it. But eyes closed, the smallest grin plays at her pretty lips. After a few seconds, her eyes open and the sated lust driving forward gives no doubt to what just occurred. It’s my ending, the unfiltered hunger in her eyes feeding into my soul. I come. Violently. Cursing loudly as I spill deep inside her body.
Releasing her neck, I flex my fingers as she takes a deep drag of air, filling her lungs. Leaning forward she kisses my lips. A quick, soft caress of her mouth against mine before she pulls away.
“That was fun, Viking.”
I pull from her body, tucking my cock back into my jeans as she slides down my body. Righting her pants, she wiggles her eyebrows in playfulness and I can’t help but smile. And it feels good. After months of misery, this unexpected stranger has sparked something inside me I thought was lost.
“Hopefully I’ll catch you around,” she winks, moving from my space.
“Hey.” I grab her arm and she looks to me expectantly. “I didn’t grab your name.”
Her dark eyes blink softly and a smile tugs at the side of her lips. “Let’s leave this one to fate, yeah? Let serendipity step in if we’re meant to do this again. If not, thanks for the orgasm.”
She’s gone before I can even process her words and I watch on as she disappears, dumbfounded, but smiling wide. Serendipity. Is she fucking kidding? I knew it. Batshit fucking crazy. I shake my head on a laugh, pulling my cell from my back pocket.
Luca: Missed you tonight, man. Sorry. Found someone else to keep me company. She was prettier than you. Be home in a few weeks. Beers then.
It’s late, past midnight and I leave the dwindling crowd deciding I might stay in town for a few extra days. No harm in seeing if fate helps me out and Crazy Girl and I find ourselves in a few dark corners to become more acquainted.
Chapter Two
Frankie
I roll over, arm moving to hug a pillow into my body. Okay, not a pillow, the pillow. The one that still, maybe, kinda smells like the guy that lives here. The one that I maybe, kinda still haven’t washed the case on. Because it still, kinda, maybe smells like him. And he smells good.
I’m pathetic but whatever. No one has to know that I sniff his pillow like a creepy weirdo. No one will ever know that. It’s a small comfort I allow myself. The masculine scent of a man to help me sleep. To keep the dark thoughts that threaten to slink into my dreams at bay. It’s not like I’ve met the guy. I’m not that creepy. It’s not really even stalkerish. Give me one single female who hasn’t taken a sly sniff of an epically smelling dude and I’ll happily call her a liar. A delicious smelling dude is kryptonite to the female form. It weakens our resolve, forcing us to do crazy things to satisfy the insatiable need of our overstimulated libidos.
I couldn’t even tell you what this guy looks like. He could be a cretin. Okay, that’s a lie. I possibly know he’s not a cretin. Annabelle told me he was a step or two above perfection, so maybe that helps. Again, just to clarify, I’m not interested in him. Just the scent of sleepy man that he left behind, embedded into his pillowcase. It’s my form of a sleeping tablet, a necessary drug to help lull me into unconsciousness each night.
I roll onto my back, cracking my eyes open enough to cast them over the apartment. With the exception of my neatly scattered belongings, there are zero personal touches to the place. The guy kept it like a hotel room. Sterile. There’s not a single photo, not a lone item that lets me know anything about the guy whose apartment I happen to be squatting in. Trust me, I’ve checked. Or snooped, whatever. I’m not ashamed. It’s my apartment until he gets back.
I’ve gathered limited intel in my research. I know he’s tall, his shirts falling mid-thigh on my frame. What? Not my fault he left his clothes here. He knew Jake might sublet his apartment. Way I see it, he was cool with his sublet using his limited belongings.
I push myself up, scratching my head on a loud yawn. Throwing my legs over the edge of my bed, I contemplate going back to sleep. Reaching for my cell, I glance at the time, cursing that I start work in less than an hour. A run would’ve done me well, kick-started my energy for the day ahead. Working three jobs is exhausting as fuck. I’m just grateful Darci’s picking up more hours each week. Even with Eméli being so young, she didn’t last too long away from The Coffee House, especially after the rebuild. She enjoys taking Emèli into work. Soon enough I’ll be able to cut back completely, leaving only Stevie’s and the bar. That I can manage.
A soft moan breaks my thoughts and I groan out a cry. Not a-fucking-gain. They’re fucking insatiable. Like rabbits. All they do is fuck and they do it loud. Aubrey screams out his name, following it with a few cuss words of her own, the sound echoed by a cracked growl from Jake.
“How the fuck his dick hasn’t fallen off is beyond me.” I look to Frenchie, his honey-colored ears standing at the sound of my sleep clogged voice. “And she must be fucked raw. How is it even enjoyable anymore?” I tip my palms up in a shrug and his little head tips to the side, considering me.
Aubrey answers my grumble with a praise for Jake’s pierced cock, yep, you heard that right, pierced.
“That’s how she keeps going.” I nod over at my dog’s too cute face, and he places his head back on his paws, a little growl escaping his squished face. “Lucky bitch. Guy has a fucking dick piercing. I’d be praising God too.”
Standing, I pick Frenchie up, scratching his neck and kissing the top of his head as I wander into the bathroom. Which happens to be the only place in the small apartment I can lock out their sexy times. It’s hot, don’t get me wrong, just weird that Jake and I are pals and I know exactly how good he is at eating pussy. Weird, right? Me thinks so.
I spend long enough in the shower to wait out their orgasms. Trust me, that’s imperative. I feel the need to attend a church sermon after hearing them. Look, I‘m woman enough to admit that my disdain stems a little from my jealousy. Damn, I wish I was having sex on the regular. May help nursing a broken heart a little bit easier. But no one seems to spike my interest. Not since that mythical stranger in the bar. I’m positive my mind created him from nowhere. No one is that fucking hot.<
br />
Jesus.
Now, I should’ve attended church after letting that guy fuck me quick and dirty in the corner of a dive bar. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex. Probably more than the next person, but one-night stands aren’t my jam. Well, except for that one time, with the make-believe guy. I didn’t wanna ruin it with names or expectations. I was happy enough to write it off as an incredibly hot moment between two consenting adults.
Hindsight is a smug bitch though, enjoying the bitch slap of reality a little too much for me to consider us friends. Because listening to Jake and Aubrey go at it, more than regularly might I add, I kinda wished I had grabbed his number. Right now, he could totally help a sister out with an itch that only he could scratch.
My tiny shadow follows my movements around the small space as I dress, paws scratching on the wood floors. I pour my coffee as their front door opens, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Their soft murmurs float through my front door and I can picture them with perfect clarity. I’ve seen it enough times. Jake, hands packed firmly into Aubrey’s jeans, squeezing her ass to pull her closer into his body. Needing her as close as she can be. Aubrey’s arms would be flung around his neck, eyes glittery with love, shining so fucking hard, it’d blind you if you looked too hard. They’d kiss. Multiple times before they found the willpower to pry themselves apart.
Aubrey’s feet sound on the concrete and I grab my coffee, waiting a beat for their final goodbye.
“Strawb’ries,” Jake calls and I smile at how fucking cheesy in love they are. Her feet stop their movement. “I love you,” he calls.
“Like you wouldn’t believe, J-Baby.” I can see her wink, the small smirk playing at her lips.
They’re so cute, enough that their loud, explicit sex is almost forgivable.
Opening my front door, I watch Jake watch Aubrey walk away.
“I’ma need a root canal having to listen to all that sweetness.”
His head slowly turns at the sound of my voice, dimple on show as he smiles at me silently. Holding his front door open, he gestures me inside and I follow without pause.
“Need a refill?” He tips his chin at my mug, moving toward the kitchen.
“Nah. Good thanks.”
He busies himself making his own coffee, contentment and happiness wrapping around him warmly.
“Nice to have you home, Frank.” He glances over his shoulder, smiling softly. “I know you’ve been back a few months now, but we haven’t had a chance to really catch up. Just you and me.”
I drop heavily onto his couch, eyes trained on the acoustic sitting beside me. It’s well used. Loved. Much like the one tucked under the bed next door, hidden from sight and temptation. Discoloration to the wood gives it soul, the stickers artfully placed along its body aging it well. I’ve seen it. Many times. It’s the one he used to propose to Aubrey, so I know that if I was brave enough to touch it, to turn it over, the words Marry Me? would be inked across its back.
He’ll keep it forever. Why wouldn’t he though? It’s part of his soul. It’s lived every adventure securely at his side and will likely live a million more.
“He won’t bite.” Jake lifts the guitar, offering it to me, but I shake my head, averting my eyes in a blatant attempt to hide the longing in my face.
He waits a beat before propping it up beside his foot, taking a seat beside me.
“It’s good to be home,” I respond to his earlier remark, working to ignore his expectant gaze.
“You’re different.” His icy blue eyes scan my face and I shift uncomfortably at his scrutiny.
“Age does that to you.”
He raises a pierced eyebrow. “Nah, not like that. You seem, I don’t know, out of sorts. You’re sad.”
He doesn’t mean it as an accusation, or even questioning the why. It’s a simple statement, an unassuming observation.
My throat tightens at the unwanted emotion forming inside. “Maybe… I’m allowed that as much as the next person,” I bite out, sounding more defensive than I intended. “We’re all entitled to the broken moments in our lives. I’m allowed to feel down. I have every right to hate life at indiscriminate times, to curse every decision I’ve ever made.”
My face feels flushed with embarrassment and I clear my throat in an attempt to shift the awkwardness radiating from me.
“Frank.” Jake touches my arm. “You don’t have to justify it, I get it,” he offers quietly. “Spent a lot of time dabbling in the waters of misery myself. Just want you to know that it’s easier to survive when you have a friend holdin’ you up.”
Tears blur my vision and wet the crease in my eye sockets.
“Happy to be that person for you, babe.” His hand entwines with mine and my eyes squeeze shut without instruction, causing the trapped tears to escape along my cheeks.
Jake Dean is unlike any other man I’ve known. Actually, that’s not true; Archer, Bennett, Toby, they’re all amazing. I know any of them would offer the exact same thing. To be my shoulder, the reinforced wall of support I so desperately need at times. Add that to their criminal, unjust attractiveness and you’d be forgiven in thinking they were fictional.
“You still singing?” He breaks into my thoughts and I let my watered-over vision fall to him again.
My bottom lip tips out, my head shaking side-to-side in the negative. “In the shower,” I add on a rueful smile, but he doesn’t return it.
“That’s just wrong, Frankie.” There’s a pain in his accusation. An agony only he would understand. The thought of being forced to live without music, when it so freely pumps through my veins, too painful to consider. “Why?”
I sigh. Loudly. “I left town with this grand idea that I’d make it. That I’d sing every day for the rest of my life. That I’d earn a living doing what kept my heart beating. That dream ended pretty quickly,” I admit, leaning down to place my empty mug on the ground.
Tucking my legs under my ass, burrowing my body farther into the corner of his three-seater, my hands busy themselves with pulling my arms into my sweater. I’m building an invisible shield around myself. Not against Jake, more against the words he’s coaching out of me without agenda.
Truth is, I haven’t divulged much about my life to anyone. Darci’s asked, of course she has, but I’ve dismissed her, not yet ready to check the wound in my heart. The fear it won’t heal, too great to gamble on. What if it splits open all over again and this time I can’t rebuild it?
“In the end, I found a job in retail. It was easy, laidback and I sang for me. Random bars. Open mic nights. I loved it. I adored the life I was living.”
Jake sits quietly as I talk, listening intently. There’s no pressure to hurry, to continue even. He’s giving me complete control on what I feel comfortable enough to share, and in that moment, I know how Aubrey fell head over heels in love with the guy. He’s probably one of the most fiercely supportive people I’ve met in my life.
“I fell in love.” The agony in the softly spoken words pierces into the room like a gunshot. Unexpectantly loud in a way that the echo hovers within your ears, constricting your ability to actually hear anything other than the fear the sound signifies.
“Babe.”
I smile sadly, thoughts of Brandon that I’d long since buried, coming on full force.
“I get what people mean now when they say they’re broken. There’s a difference you know, in having your heart broken and being broken.”
My voice catches and I tip my neck back an attempt to catch the sob caught in my throat from breaking into the room.
“He broke me,” I repeat, having regained a sliver of composure. “He made me question who I was. I lost it all, everything I thought I knew about myself, it was just gone.” Picking at the chipped nail polish on my fingernails, I feel consumed by the tsunami of grief that I’ve spent months feeling drowned by. Jake’s hand rests over mine, stopping the frenzied attack on my nails and I let myself take a breath. “He made me feel dirty and worthless. He owned my heart and
I was nothing but a plaything to him.”
“Don’t let some fucktard dictate your self-worth, Frankie.” He squeezes my hands in a small gesture of reassurance. “I get that stopping it from poisoning your spirit is hard. Might even seem impossible, but you’re more than what he’s made you feel. Much, much more.”
I inhale heavily through my nose, pushing a forceful breath from my lungs before I offer him a watery smile. “I know.”
He’s right. I know that. Deep down, I know that. It doesn’t stop the splintered crack of my heart from polluting my soul to believe otherwise.
It’s a tug-o-war. One I’m losing strength on day by day. I fight every day to keep my momentum, victory in sight. And then something reminds me of him. Of Brandon and I lose the progress I’d fought so hard to gain. My power, my control stumbles and I’m back where I was all those months ago. Heartbroken and hurting, beginning my uphill climb again.
“Why stop singing though?”
I shake myself from my thoughts, focusing back on my friend. “All of it reminded me of him. It hurt too much.”
“Good,” he presses, and I frown in confusion. “It’s supposed to. Use it, Frankie. Let the music, the melody, the lyrics, the escape it gives you heal you in here.” His palm flattens against his chest and I imitate the gesture, the crippled organ stuttering heavily against my hand.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Won’t know until you try. But you gotta… try. Otherwise he wins.”
I nod, coughing awkwardly to break the heaviness in the room. “Getting married tomorrow, Romeo.”
He watches me for a beat, blinking away his want to push the conversation further. “You know, there was a time where I thought Aubrey and I would never find a way to be together. I’d conceded to living my life alone. I’d started to convince myself that I’d offered my heart up to someone who didn’t want it. Fuck.” His eyes are no longer focused on me, on our conversation, instead remembering a time where he and Aubrey weren’t blissfully happily in love. Shaking his head, he sits quietly, watching me for a breath. “I thank whoever will fucking listen for bringing her back to me. I don’t think I’d be able to live my real life without her. Sure,” he shrugs, “I would’ve survived, I wouldn’t have had a choice. But surviving through this life isn’t something you wanna do, Frank.”
