by Hazel Parker
I shook my head.
“Ever since you saved me that day, I’ve tried to take the fight to the bullies. As kids, the bullies picked on us at school. As adults, the bullies commit crimes and need to be punished. I never killed anyone unnecessarily. I never knocked someone unconscious. Some people just needed a lesson that the public thought was too violent. But they never understand.”
I sighed, turned to Carrie, and almost smiled. But I knew that what I had just told her wasn’t really a smiling type of statement, and if anything, it might have been the kind of thing to cause her to turn away.
“I’ll get it if, after this, you don’t want to talk to me again,” I said. “I’ve done a lot of things that most people would consider problematic. Getting kicked out of the police force and being unapologetic about it can seem pretty rough. That, and the Savage Saints—”
“No, Lane, it’s fine,” she said, reaching over and grabbing my hand. Warm tingles emanated from my hand. “I’m less concerned with the job title you have than I am with the guiding morals that you have. And you sound like you’re a pretty strong man. Stronger than I was.”
“I’m sorry?”
Carrie looked away. I tried to lean forward, but she kept her face away from me.
“I never stood up to my bullies,” she said. “Never have. And at this point, never will.”
“Carrie?” I said, surprised that she had bullies.
She sniffled. I pulled her in with a hug, aware of the tears about to fall from her eyes. She turned into me and sobbed into my shoulder. I genuinely had no idea what she was crying about, but whatever it was, I needed to protect her from it. If it was something I could help, I would.
“My father,” she said, but she didn’t elaborate at first. I kissed the top of her forehead, careful not to do too much and make her feel like I was taking advantage of her emotions. “My father became abusive to me after my mother died. So, basically, since the day I was born.”
“Jesus…”
“I refused to let his bullying turn me into anything bad. I became an advocate for the bullied. In high school, I would start projects stating that we needed to end bullying. I held bake sales to try and make it a reality. When I turned eighteen, I immediately moved out. My father warned me he wouldn’t pay for college, but I didn’t care. I had scholarships to the University of Georgia, and with it being in-state, the cost was minimal. Even if it was higher, I needed to get out.”
“Do you want me to do anything?” I said. “I can go to your old—”
“I haven’t spoken to him in ages,” she said. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t want you to get involved. You have your demons to fight, Lane. You don’t need to be caught up in mine.”
“I know, but—”
Carrie pulled her head up and looked into my eyes. She smiled gently, the kind of reassuring smile that told me everything would be just fine. I believed her.
But more than that, I believed in her. I believed in her strength, her grace, and her beauty. I believed in her ability to overcome anything that came her way.
And this made me realize that she was no angel. She wasn’t perfect. She was better than that—she was someone who had achieved so much in spite of her flaws, not because she was free of them. She didn’t just organically accomplish everything in life; she’d had to scrap and work for it.
And because she was not an angel, I could stop treating her as such. She didn’t have to be put on a pedestal. I could just treat her as she was—a woman, a human.
A woman that I wanted to kiss.
This time, when our bodies came together and she leaned into me, I didn’t pull back or go over the shoulder for a hug. I closed my eyes and kissed her.
It felt like nearly two and a half decades of tension were released right there. Twenty-five years had passed since that moment when she’d saved me, but now, we were saving each other. She was saving me from a lifetime of being too hard and too rough for the outside world to be let in, and I was saving her from the emotional doubts she suffered from the job and her father.
It was thus not just a kiss of attraction and erotic tension, but a kiss of love and unquestioned support. I couldn’t say what we would become, but I could say right now, I didn’t see how things could get much better than they were right there.
She and I pecked at each other’s lips a few times before she finally fell back over my shoulder, her body gradually tightening its grip around me.
“Oh, Lane,” she said.
“Carrie…”
I kissed her again, and just as the first time, the kiss felt more like two troubled souls merging into one.
It was crazy to realize I was even thinking like this, let alone speaking aloud, but I couldn’t think of anyone in the world who could make me feel this way like Carrie. Certainly, no one else had made such a huge difference in my childhood as she had.
“Isn’t it wonderful how things came together like so?” she said. “For us to have that one encounter in our youth, and now to come back together.”
“Indeed,” I said.
I may have had many thoughts running through my head, but the beautiful woman in front of me all but had me tongue-tied.
She collapsed back against my shoulder as I rubbed her back. Night was beginning to settle in on the day, and at some point, the two of us would have to head back. At this point, with the drive back to Brooklyn, it would take us over an hour to get there, and the night sky would have fully settled in.
But honestly, if we didn’t get back until midnight, it wouldn’t have been a moment too soon. I could have spent the next week here with Carrie, and it would have been perfect. All I needed was some water to drink and food to eat and I’d be set.
“So where to now?” she said. “Now that we’ve spilled all our darkest secrets.”
She gave a half laugh mixed with some tears. I wiped them from her and smiled.
“It doesn’t matter where we go, so long as it's with you,” I said.
“Then let’s go home,” she said almost immediately. “Let’s go somewhere private. It may not be Georgia, but it will feel like Georgia with you.”
That was all I needed to hear. I stood, kissed her again, and led her to the bike. The engine roared to life, we sped down the roads, and we made our way back.
Back to home.
Chapter 10: Carrie
I didn’t know how things could have been better tonight.
I’m sure that the surprise factor of it had something to do with it. I hadn’t begun this Sunday thinking that I was going to see Lane. This wasn’t supposed to happen for another two days. Another forty-eight hours of stressing over the restaurant, creepy customers, and the future. Another day and night and day and night without reward.
And now, suddenly, I had the type of man that I never thought I would in New York City—someone who didn’t mind sleeping once in a while in this city, someone who didn’t feel the need to boast about their latest accomplishment or wear the latest high-end suit, and someone who got what it was like to grow up in Georgia and didn’t assume that it was some state full of hicks and racists.
The motorcycle ride back might as well have been like driving through a dream with Lane. Much of our surroundings were dark, the sights normally visible during the day—birds flying away from the sound of the motorcycle, the blur of trees, the distant monochrome buildings on the horizon—gone, only there in memory. But in their place was the distant glow of New York City, the city that glowed as bright as the feelings Lane and I had for each other.
Some relationships started with a bang and then vanished into nothing. Some started off dull, seemed to be bright enough, and then died when both parties realized that neither side was all that bright to begin with. Lane and me?
Maybe it was too early to say, but this was pretty special as far as nights out went. It wasn’t a real first date, not in the traditional sense. He felt he owed me everything from the past; I felt I owed him much more for what he was doing
for my store.
But I felt pretty confident in saying this was not going to be our last night together. That made the fact that we were heading back to my place at Brooklyn that much more exciting. It wasn’t the snap of a one-night stand, nor was it the tragic end of something fun that was nearing its end. It was only the beginning.
I wanted Lane to park his bike right outside my Brooklyn apartment, but understandably, street parking in this part of New York was not exactly at a premium. He dropped me off just outside Brooklyn Repairs, wanting to make sure that we could make an exit in privacy. He hurried his bike inside, parked it, and then ran out to me, calling an Uber.
We behaved in that Uber for all of about two minutes before we were making out all over each other. Unlike the kiss in the park, which had felt like the desires of two people finally fulfilled after a quarter of a century, this was just the kiss of two very horny and aroused people who couldn’t get enough of each other. We were in the kind of heat that only a car crash could interrupt, and even then, we were likely to just get right back to where we had left off.
Fortunately for the poor Uber driver who had to put up with our awkward making out, we got back to my place within five minutes. I dragged Lane out of the car and, holding his hand, led him up to the second floor of my apartment complex. I fumbled with the keys, so excited to have him, and as soon as the door was open, we hurried to step inside so we could resume making out.
Lane was a damn good kisser, better than anyone I had ever been around. Our kisses weren’t just pecks on the lips, nor were they the full-blown tongue orgies. Rather, it was more like a dance, a healthy balance between the two; something that seemed slow in the moment, yet steadily and properly paced.
Our waltz of a kiss led us to the bedroom, where we tumbled onto the unkempt sheets.
“Sorry,” I said as we fell. “Room’s not quite made how I’d like it to be.”
“You’re worried about the bed right now?” Lane said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t said anything.”
Boys will be boys, I thought with a smile.
Our clothes started to come off. Lane took off his cut and his shirt, revealing a body that looked exactly how it felt—ripped, tight, and with muscles flexing all over. I had only a vague memory of him overweight, and obviously, that was from so long ago that it was no longer relevant, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy even more the sight of his body knowing what he had gone through.
And then I noticed the scars and wounds, a couple circular ones and then some about an inch in length. I ran my fingers over the wounds, causing Lane to pause briefly.
“Sorry, should I not?”
“No, take a look at them,” he said, placing his hands back on me. “They don’t hurt anymore. They are as much a part of me as you are.”
I smiled as I looked at each one. I wanted to know every story, every moment, every person that had done this damage to him. Lane didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned, nor did he show any signs of pain when I ran my fingers over. Still, I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe that it didn’t hurt at all.
“So it’s totally fine now?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he said. “I can tell you more. But I think you want something else a little more right now.”
“Yes,” I said with a giggle, pulling on his arms and dragging him back down to kiss me.
We rolled around on the bed, fighting to see who would get to pleasure the other first. I burst into laughter as I tried to assert myself, but Lane discovered a secret weapon—as soon as he bit and licked my neck, I became helpless. There was nothing I could do to defend myself.
“You bastard!” I shrieked, still laughing.
“You first,” he growled.
He helped remove my top, and then, kissing me, removed my bra, throwing it aimlessly to the side. He moved down and suckled on my breasts, and at that point, I stopped trying to fight for the right to pleasure him first. There was not going to be any winning this battle, most especially because my body was now flooding with pleasure so much that I couldn’t even make sense of the ceiling from the floor.
As his kisses moved further and further down my body, I found my moans increasing in volume. I was so horny and needing him, I worked to shove my jeans down, even though he hadn’t yet unbuttoned them. When he finally did that, I felt myself as wet as I had been in some time. My body wanted him even more than my mind did.
“I need you so bad, Lane,” I said. “I need you.”
“And I want you,” he said. “I got you when I needed you. Now, I’m going to get you when I want you.”
There was just something so incredibly hot about how he was taking over the situation. For someone who had been tongue-tied in our interactions before, he sure seemed to have a much better command of the situation in bed.
He kissed my right leg, working his way down from my feet to my thighs. Just when I thought he was going to kiss my clit, he instead kissed the crevice, moving back up to my left leg.
“Oh, that’s so dirty,” I said.
“If you think that’s dirty, wait till you see what happens when I actually start.”
Oh, fuck yes.
This time, when he got down there, he didn’t stop and suddenly switch positions. He kissed down on my clit, looked up at me, then went back to my clit and began eating me out.
Fuck me to heaven, this was incredible. My legs clamped down on his head as if I could lock him into place forever. I had to close my eyes at how good it felt, but that only heightened the sensation.
“How the fuck are you so good!” I said, my question turning into a statement halfway through when he did…something that was getting me to squirm and quiver uncontrollably.
My body was no longer my own. I wasn’t in control of what was happening here. Lane had complete control over me, handling me like a series of levers. If he wanted me to feel pleasure somewhere, he made it happen. If he wanted me to shout his name, he knew what to do to make it happen. If he wanted me to feel a false sense of lull, only to suddenly get hit with a deluge of pleasure, he did it.
It was like having a maestro tune my body and then play the world’s most relaxing, pleasing song.
“My fucking God, Lane,” I said in between gasps. “You’re not allowed ever to leave here, you understand?”
Lane came up, smirked, and then went right back down. Even that felt like a move of genius—the brief period of rest that my pussy had meant that when he went back to it, it was like he was starting from fresh. It was unfair how good this felt—unfair that it would have to end at some point.
Though it was pretty fair that it would end with orgasm when the time came.
About two minutes later, the end came in sight—but just the end of him going down on me. There was no way this was going to be the end of us together. Fuck, it was just the beginning.
“Yes, Lane, yes,” I murmured. “You’re getting me there. I’m so close. So close.”
I closed my eyes as my hands gripped the bedsheet. I steadied my breathing, trying to retain some semblance of control. That was a laughable idea, especially because I’d forgotten how good an orgasm from oral felt. And I’d never known how good oral from Lane Bentley felt.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I said, my voice getting higher each time.
For the moment just before it happened, I knew that Lane would be around forever. I didn’t know how, but I knew—
And then I couldn’t finish the thought. Orgasm swept through my body. I let out a stilted cry, interrupted by the shaking in my body.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I don’t know how the hell Lane held on to my body, continuing to press his tongue into my swollen pussy. I had to beg for him to stop before he finally did, and I felt like I’d be in a coma for the next week.
“Oh, your turn,” I said, a little bit out of breath.
I heard Lane laugh as I tried to gather strength. It was coming back pretty quickly.
“You mean our turn,” he said. “You gotta be in on this, too.”
I just laughed. I mean, the man just gave me the world’s greatest orgasm, and he suddenly wanted to make sure that I got more pleasure while he did too?
He was too much, in the best way possible.
“Nice try,” I said as I grabbed him and pushed him on his back. “But there’s at least a five-minute timeout before you can do anything else with me.”
“Is that so?”
“Are you really going to argue?” I said as I unzipped his pants and removed his belt.
He laughed but didn’t say anything else as I yanked then down, revealing the sturdy thick cock waiting for release.
“That’s what I thought.”
I crawled forward, kissing his legs and scratching his thighs with my nails. I cupped his balls first, gently scratching them, causing him to tense up with pleasure. I smirked as I then took my tongue and moved it from the base of his member up to the tip. The whole way, I relished seeing the sex face on Lane—the face of a man dealing with so much pleasure, he could barely contain himself. On him, it was perhaps the sexiest face I’d ever seen—because it was me causing it.
I went to work, alternating between trying to get him to come and trying to get him to hold out. At some moments, I just wanted to see how quickly I could get him to come; in others, I wanted to hold out to see what he could do when he was inside of me. I honestly wasn’t worried about it, as I knew we’d get to do it again, but damn did I want to feel what he was capable of.
“Holy shit, holy shit, fuck, Carrie,” he grumbled.
“Yeah?” I said. “Am I making you feel good, Lane?”
“Making me feel fucking amazing.”
I laughed and stroked his cock quickly as if trying to pump the cum out of him. But then, just when it seemed like he might have been getting to the beginning stages of the point of no return, I stopped.
“OK, I’m pretty sure five minutes are up,” I said, even though I was well aware that nowhere near that amount of time had passed.
