Unfiltered

by Payge Galvin

  UNFILTERED AND UNLAWFUL

  Payge Galvin and Lynne Jaymes

  Copyright © 2014 Payge Galvin

  All rights reserved

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Sneak Peek of Unfiltered & Unsaved

  Chapter 1

  Dillon

  First there was sex, and then came death.

  Motherfucker, I think to myself, my eyes closed against the whine of the motor and the endless stabbing pain of the needle as Adam finishes off the last letters with a steady hand. Fuck…fuck…fuck… I repeat the mantra to myself, clenching my jaw against the repetitive, angry stings.

  “Dillon, man—you okay?” Adam asks, pausing, the needle poised above the tender flesh of my forearm.

  “Yeah,” I manage through gritted teeth. “Just finish.” I’m lucky to get Adam at all—that cute receptionist said that he was gone for the day, but he showed up a couple of minutes later itching to work.

  “You got it,” he says, bending over the arm that’s laid flat on the table, the hum of the needle’s motor engaging as the drops of blood form around the inky black letters. I try to focus on the pain, to embrace it, to feel it down to my core. After what we did last night, I deserve this.

  “So…have you seen Sasha tonight?” he asks, not taking his eyes off his work.

  His question pierces the fog of pain that’s enveloping my brain. “Sasha?” I don’t know any girls named Sasha.

  “Yeah, you know…Sugar.”

  I feel my muscles tense and then force myself to relax. He’ll notice if something’s up if I’m not careful. Adam takes his foot off the motor and lifts his head, but I don’t see the accusations I expect. He and Sugar must have a thing going on, that’s all.

  “No. Not since the Cave last night,” I say as casually as I can, as if the last time I saw her was behind the counter at The Coffee Cave slinging a latte instead of helping some guy load a body into the trunk of a car.

  “Right,” he says, but doesn’t offer any more.

  The noise from the needle is the only sound in the room, and visions from the coffee shop take up some of the space in my brain that was recently reserved for pain. The sharp crack of the gun going off, then the streaks from the mop as Cass wiped the blood from the floor. The sound of the zipper as I closed the duffle bag on all that money. More money than I’ve ever seen in one place in my entire life. The whole thing was self-defense and I don’t blame that girl for pulling the trigger, but I’m still not sure we should have split the money we found in that guy’s trunk. I’ve got to get over that. What’s done is done and leaving my share behind won’t bring anybody back. I feel a stab of guilt when I think about Cass, though. There’s so much to say to her, but we’ve already had our last words.

  It’s suddenly, blissfully, quiet as Adam wipes the ink and blood away from my skin, replacing it with a layer of shiny ointment that coats the angry black words.

  “We’re done,” Adam says, snapping the rubber gloves off his hands. “Take a look.”

  My legs are weaker than I’d like to admit as I walk to the mirror and take in the whole picture. This isn’t my first tattoo, not by a long shot, but it’s the first one that’s so immediately visible, so tender. First there was sex, and then came death. The words are there forever now, reminding me where I’ve been and how I’m going to get where I’m meant to be.

  “Awesome,” I say, turning my arm in the reflection, the indelible letters a promise or a curse, depending on your point of view.

  “Just keep it covered for the next hour or so.” Adam rips a square of Saran Wrap off the roll and tapes it over my skin. He glances up at the clock, forty minutes gone since I first stumbled into his red leather chair. “That’ll be $120.”

  “No problem.” I reach into my worn, brown wallet and pull two $100 bills from the back, the compartment stretched with money for the first time since I bought it. “Keep the change,” I say, feeling flush with cash and possibility.

  “Seriously?” Adam says, holding the bills up to the florescent lights on the ceiling. “What’d you do, rob a bank?”

  I grin, knowing that I’m safe, that no matter how he thinks I came to possess two large bills late on a Sunday night, he’ll never guess the truth. When we divided up the money, we all agreed to keep quiet, and Sugar has the most to lose by opening her mouth. “Something like that.”

  “Whatever you say.” Adam follows me to the front of the shop. We’re the only ones left in the place this late. “Have a good night,” he says, flipping the switch on the neon sign as he shuts the door behind me.

  I pull the guitar case onto my shoulder and grip the handles of the canvas duffle bag with my other hand. I should have left the bag at the apartment, but it was too hard having it out of my sight for so long. I’m too wired to go home, but it’s too late to hang out on the street without attracting unwanted attention, so I start walking in the direction of my apartment. It’s one of those mild Arizona spring nights, the warm air caressing your bare arms, giving only a hint of the inferno yet to come. The doors to The Toronado practically pull me in as I pass, the stale smell of beer and recently smoked cigarettes wrapping me in its familiar embrace. It’s as good a place as any to spend my last night in this town.

  I set the duffle down on the sticky floor and put both of my feet on it, my boots resting on the world’s most expensive stool as I contemplate the last beer at my favorite bar.

  “What’s it gonna be?” Cheryl asks, sliding a cardboard beer mat in front of me.

  I study the variety of shiny handles emerging through the bar’s smooth wooden surface.

  “I think I’ll go with the Drakes IPA.”

  She nods and grabs a glass, tipping it so that the white foamy head mounds just perfectly on the top, two lone, liquid drops racing each other down the side. Christ, I’m going to miss this place.

  “Were you playing tonight?” Cheryl nods to the guitar as I lean it against the bar.

  “No,” I say. “I just got this from the studio.” My days of singing at The Coffee Cave are over, but I can’t tell her that. I’m going to miss this guitar too, an insane ’68 Gibson Custom, but I can only take one with me, so I have to find the Gibson a good home. And I have just the place in mind—someone who will love and cherish this piece of history as much as I have. I glance down the length of the bar. “Has Savannah been in tonight?”

  “Not tonight,” she says, glancing past my left shoulder. “Aria’s here though.”

  I swivel on my stool and see Aria leaning up against the wall in the booth, her bare legs stretched out along the length of the bench seat, daring anyone to try and join her. Our eyes meet, and in answer to my unspoken question, she deliberately lifts her high heels off the seat next to her and places them on the floor one by one. I don’t even realize the decision’s been made until I slide into the booth next to her, dropping my guitar on the opposite bench and the duffle on th
e floor beneath the table.

  “Running away from home?” Her low, husky voice sends shivers down my spine. The last time I’d heard it, she was shouting my name, her lips against my ear. She turns to me just slightly, and I can see the milky white of her thighs as they stretch out from underneath the tiny black skirt she’s wearing. I remember the feel of her skin almost too well and shift in my seat trying to adjust myself and the hard-on that’s already starting to form under my jeans. Despite the fact that I’ve got way too much shit going on to get into this with her tonight, my body knows what to expect from an encounter with Aria. As usual, the body’s winning.

  “Would you miss me?” I send her a wicked grin. Aria and I don’t have casual conversations.

  “I’d miss parts of you,” she says, looking past me at the backs of the people who are cozied up to the bar.

  “Harsh,” I say, taking a sip of my beer.

  “New ink?” She runs one finger lightly over the bandage on my forearm.

  “Yep.” I pull my arm away, not wanting to think about why it’s there right now. I notice the empty glass in front of her. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Aria reaches for my glass and tips it to her mouth. “How about we share this one? That way we can get out of here faster.” She licks the foam off her lips, her pink tongue making one full turn around her mouth as her eyes stay steady on me.

  We pound the rest of the beer, barely pausing long enough to gather my stuff as we push our way out of the booth. Cheryl smiles and tips an imaginary hat as we walk toward the door and I give her a quick wave, just before Aria grabs a belt loop with one finger, pulling me out of the bar and into the warm spring night.

  ***

  I’m barely inside her apartment when Aria kicks the door closed and presses me up against the wall, one hand inside my t-shirt and the other running through my hair. We work our way toward the bedroom, dropping my stuff on the floor as her lips find mine, the hunger in her kiss that I always associate with her, an unspoken need to pull what she can out of every encounter.

  “Hmmm,” she says, her words humming in my mouth. “Don’t cut your hair, okay?”

  I pull away from her and bury my nose into her neck, finding the sweet spot where the faint smell of perfume mingles with the hot scent of desire. “Okay.”

  “No, I mean it.” She laughs and ducks away from me. Her face is serious for a moment, and she looks directly at me. I’m tall, but with her four inch heels, Aria is only a little bit shorter than me, which is kind of a turn-on in itself. She reaches up and runs her hands through my hair, her fingernails raking my scalp and sending sparks down my entire body. “It’s so thick and dark…and it’s getting so long. Promise me you won’t cut it?”

  “I have no plans to,” I say, wondering where this came from.

  Aria grabs a handful of hair and pulls me toward her again, our mouths pressing together as her tongue tickles the back of my teeth in that crazy way she has. My hand finds the soft, smooth skin of her upper thigh, and I push my way up her skirt until I can run my finger along the edge of her underwear as it hugs her ass. In response, Aria places her hand over the bulge in my jeans, causing an unintended moan to escape from my lips. With one hand still in my hair, she works the buckle of my belt free with the other and reaches into my pants, squeezing me in her hand as she works my jeans loose. I feel a rush of excitement at her touch and pull her to me in an attempt to slow things down some. Aria pulls her hand out of the front of my jeans and runs one finger lightly along the back edge of my pants, dipping down to stroke the top of my ass as I hold her tighter in an attempt to regain some control.

  Aria leans away from my grip and lifts the edge of my t-shirt up over my stomach, her palms stroking my nipples as she makes her way up my chest, finally pulling it over my head and dropping it on the floor. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she says, running her hands flat over my stomach and gently stroking the hairs that trail into my open jeans. “I love muscles like yours.”

  I look away as she traces the veins in my arms down to my wrists and strokes the ends of my fingers with her nails. I want to say something back. Something about how perfect her skin is, and about how I almost lose control looking at the swell of her breasts under her shirt. But I can’t. I’ve never been able to, no matter how much I think about these things. Music is no problem—I can belt out a love ballad without any hesitation, but talking about it always seems so stupid to me, like I’m reciting a script that someone else has written.

  Instead, I try to show her. Reaching around under her shirt, I snap her bra so that it hangs loose in the back and run her hard nipples through my fingers, giving a gentle tug that she leans into in response. She eases my jeans further down my hips, the lack of underwear meaning that I’m immediately hard and fully exposed as she grabs me at the base of the shaft and runs her hand down the length of me. My breath is fast, and my heart is racing as I try not to come, knowing from experience that we’re in for a long night. I grab her wrist with my hand to stop the stroke.

  “Do you have something?” I ask, my lips brushing her ear. My condoms are in my jacket pocket and that’s way back where we started by the front door.

  “Not this time.” She shakes her head. “I want to feel all of you.” Aria reaches down and pushes my foreskin back, running one finger along the tender flesh of my head.

  Fuck, she’s not making this easy. “No,” I insist, the throbbing that’s working its way through my body almost drowning out rational thought. I push past her and walk two steps to the small table beside the mattresses on the floor that pass for her bed. Pulling the narrow drawer open, I grab one of the condoms, making note of the clear blue vibrator that’s lying alongside them for later.

  “Here,” I say, holding out the square foil pack.

  “Just this once?” she asks, her hand softly stroking my hips.

  Without answering, I rip the package open, determined not to give into temptation.

  Aria takes the condom from my fingers and slowly kneels down in front of me, one hand stroking the length of my dick while her tongue darts forward, tiny tastes of my flesh that are making my knees shake. I exhale loudly as she takes me in her mouth, my hands light on the top of her head, my fingers curling into her hair, reaching for anything to help me stay in control. She lingers there for several long moments, her tongue caressing the end of my shaft while her hand holds the rest of me, rhythmically squeezing in time to the motion of my hips. I feel her lips leaving my body, and then Aria deftly rolls the condom on in one smooth motion. She turns and braces herself on the nightstand, her ass cheeks barely peeking out of the bottom of the skirt that she’s still wearing.

  I flip the skirt up around her waist, taking a moment to appreciate the green lace panties she’s wearing before I roughly pull them down for her to step out of. Aria shivers as I slide one finger into the folds of her flesh, the darkness within already wet and slick, waiting for me as desperately as I’ve been waiting for her. She bends forward even more, her high heels lifting her ass to the perfect height to receive me as I push myself into her, pulling her hips toward me as far as they’ll go, thrusting deeper and deeper as the motions between us build to an explosion that rocks my body and makes it hard to stay upright as I bend forward and put one hand next to hers, bracing myself on the flat table. We stand there panting for a few seconds, until I slide out of her, my jeans still hanging on my thighs and Aria still mostly dressed.

  “That was nice,” she says, turning to kiss me.

  “We’re nowhere near done,” I say, knowing from her silence that she hasn’t come yet.

  I kick off my boots and step on one leg of my jeans to pull them off, until I’m standing naked in front of her. I can’t miss the appreciation in her eyes as she looks at me. I hold out one hand to lead her to the bed, tossing the discarded clothes from on top of the sheets. She doesn’t say anything as I lay her down in the middle of the mattress and straddle her hips, pushing the shirt up and over her head and dro
pping it along with her matching green lace bra onto the floor. I can’t help but run my hand over her soft stomach, flicking the belly ring with my finger as I ease the short black skirt down her thighs, stopping to take off her impossibly high heels, until she’s lying naked on the bed in front of me, her arms stretched enticingly over her head, her pussy as hairless as the day she was born.

  I lean over her, my hands planted on each side of her body, and then slowly lower myself so that our skin is just grazing along the length of our bodies, bucking as she arches into me, keeping a subtle distance between us. I run my tongue along her neck, and down her chest, stopping to take each nipple in my mouth until they’re hard knots of pleasure before moving on to the smooth skin of her belly. I ease myself down the mattress into a better position as I tease her belly ring with my teeth, pulling until it just meets resistance from her skin. The heat of her desire radiates from her body as she moves in jerky little motions, biting her lip to keep quiet as I run a finger into her crease. I love watching her squirm under my touch, stealing glances as she bucks and moans with each caress. Her body reaches for me as I bend down to her, parting the lips with my fingers and flicking my tongue along the warm folds. Aria reaches for my head, her fingers grabbing at my hair as my tongue caresses her skin, inhaling her scent as I bury my face into her body. I start slow, the rhythmic, circular motions soon mimicked by the gentle grind of her hips as her body gets more insistent and her breath comes faster. I reach up and insert three fingers into her, her body pushing against me as I enter, and I can feel the ripples of her orgasm against my hand.

  “Oh God,” she moans. “Oh God. Oh…” Aria releases her grip from my hair and arches her back in one languid movement as I slip my fingers out of her.

  Letting her rest for a minute, I reach past her and open the drawer beside her bed, my fingers finding the soft plastic flesh of the vibrator.

  “I can’t come twice,” Aria says, her face flushed with pleasure as she watches me pull the toy into bed with us.