by April Lust
“Run!” Titus yelps.
Faster and faster now. Still the music-less soundtrack—only this time it’s accompanied by the hollow, reverberating thud in my ears. Somewhere, a part of my consciousness dislocates and watches me detachedly from afar. I’m fascinated by how my body knows where to turn even though my mind doesn’t. This way, that way. Smoothly, seamlessly.
Why, in that moment, do I think of her? The one in my English class—Michelle, with the short, light brown hair. Just like the chick in the Hemingway book. She’d look great in that weird style of dress they wore back then, the cropped hair, no tits (though hers were pretty big and beautiful), the boyish, sexless dresses. The way that chick had thrown herself at the narrator, rubbed against him in back of all those damned taxis they took across the moonlit city. I had been hard under my desk, thinking about it and thinking about Michelle.
Later that day, I’d had to go with my dad to the supermarket to buy formula for my infant brother. We couldn’t buy the expensive kind. We had to buy the generic with food stamps.
I had tried, fumbling and ashamed, to tell my dad about Michelle.
“Have you fucked her yet?” my dad asked loudly in the aisle.
“No, Dad.” I was hot with rage and embarrassment. But I couldn’t tell my dad I was still a virgin. The conversation had been dropped until my dad noticed a young girl, no more than ten years old, in the canned vegetable aisle.
“Hey, son,” he’d asked with a leering grin, pointing to the girl. “How ‘bout that one?”
“I dunno, Dad. She looks pretty young.”
My dad laughed, a rough, gravelly sound. “Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed, right? Well, she’s probably a little bitch, anyways. They all are, son.”
We’d said no more after that.
Back at the apartment, the door is thankfully unlocked. Ron and Walker are waiting for us. The air is permeated with the stench of weed, beer, and cheap incense.
“You got it?” Ron asks.
Titus snatches the wallet from my hand, lumbers to the couch and slaps it in Ron’s hand. The two begin talking, but I can’t make anything out. I mumble something incoherent, go to the bathroom, and lock myself in.
Harsh spasms of vomiting shake and rattle their way through my body. I sink into the corner, my tall, too-big body wedged between the toilet and the bathtub’s mildewed edge. I huddle my knees together and wrap my lanky arms around my legs and let my face fall into the darkness of denim. It’s like a cave fragranced by the smoky, vomitous stench of my breath.
I cry softly, like a young child, like when first my grampa died, then my gramma. The doctors had said it was the emphysema that finally did her in from the smoking, but she’d been fine before. I knew, after Grampa was gone, she’d had no reason left to go on. Nobody to make her famous sweet cornbread for or yell at for forgetting to turn off the TV.
My body shakes with the force of my sobs. I think I can hear music from the living room, a harsh voice raised in angry rap. Somebody knocks on the door but I tell them to go away, everything’s okay, I’m fine...
I’m hungry. Hungrier than I’ve ever felt in my life. I want my gramma’s cornbread and milk. I can taste the cold, white milk, the golden, sweet, fluffy cornbread, light as air.
Hours seem to slip by. Finally, I hear the front door of the apartment burst open. They’ve found us, as I hoped they would. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I wonder if they serve cornbread in prison.
Seconds later, a cop busts through the frail bathroom door, and I look up with a tear-streaked, swollen face, already resigned, hungry, and praying for the worst.
Chapter 8
Steel
I know Landon Lockhart is the only one who can protect my daughter.
Because he’s the only man I can and have ever been able to trust. The only man in my life who has not tried to dupe or outwit me, or underhand me, or rob me of something that was mine.
I’ve had my mind on Landon to take the lead of Blacktop Chaos when I retire. For years I have known he is the only one who is capable.
And I’ve known this ever since he was a little kid, and I took him in to Blacktop Chaos and gave him a new mother and a new life.
I saved him. From poverty, from the streets. Mostly I saved him from himself.
Even though I was unable to save my own daughter.
Landon, you know I love Vivian so much. So much it hurts. Even though it’s hard to look at her most of the time.
I feel so much guilt for the father I’ve been to her. It was always hard to look at her because she looked exactly like Alaina. That’s why I kept her away.
It was me who had started my wife smoking when we were dating in high school. It was me who murdered her all those years ago. Indirectly, yes, but still, I killed her.
Lan-man, I plead. Don’t let me down. Everything Blacktop Chaos is, everything that I am, is stored inside the heart of my precious child.
And I know I can trust you with her. Trust you not to hurt her or take advantage of her innocence.
You might ask why I tried to save you when you were a kid. It was because you reminded me of myself at your age.
I never told you about my family. In high school I worked at an ice plant to support us all—my sister, my mother, and my father. My mother was a fanatical Christian, a fervent bible-thumper. She’d tell me how filthy girls and sex were. I’d masturbate over girlie mags in the attic and then punish myself by running circles around the house.
And my father kept walking out on us. When he was there, he was drunk all the time, and would drive me to isolated country roads and make me fight him.
“C’mon, boy. You scared? Hit me!”
“No, Dad, please. I can’t.”
“Hit me, you little pussy!”
I couldn’t strike my own father. I loved him too much. So he’d eventually knock me down, and the blood would be streaming like a fountain from my face. Back at home, my mother would be angry at me instead of him.
“You have evil inside you, boy,” she’d claim, bandaging me up. “No good can get through ‘cause all those dark forces have taken rent inside the house of your soul.”
You see, Landon, I know how painful life can be. I have wanted to spare you from that.
And, I wanted to help your dear, beautiful mother.
Landon, please. Save her. Save Vivian. Protect her like I can’t.
I’m trusting you, son.
Chapter 9
Vivian
Landon Lockhart is kissing me.
And my world has come undone.
Never would I have imagined anything like it. Never would I have thought I would want a man so much.
Love a man so much. Yes, I know now I’m in love with Landon Lockhart. The one man in the world I can never have. Who I was never supposed to touch. Who I swore to my father to never to have anything to do with.
But Landon has claimed me with his mouth and body. His flesh owns mine. I know at this moment I’m his forever.
Suddenly in the alleyway he pulls away from me abruptly.
I’m shocked to see there’s a fine mist of tears in his eyes. His exquisite face is haunted. The twin emotions of agony and sorrow are etched onto his perfect features.
And my heart goes out to him immediately and offers itself up as sacrifice.
My love, I think. What happened to you? Who hurt you so deeply? What horrors have you seen?
Landon. I want what your eyes have seen and what your heart has known.
But his face has suddenly erased itself once more into that blank slate I have begun to know too well.
“I’m sorry, Vivian. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
No, I think in my mind. Don’t do this to me. Not now.
“And it can’t ever happen again,” he continues.
Please, I think. Don’t leave me like this. You’re going to break my heart.
“It’s time to get you back to the hideout. It’s too dangerous out here. G
et in the car and follow me.”
I’m too shaken up not to obey. Too willing to do what he says.
Because he owns me now. Every part of me. Just from a kiss.
Back at the hideout we don’t say a word to each other. Instead, we both plop onto the leather sofas. I twirl my fingers nervously, aching for him to speak to me.
Someone once said that silence was made up of a million different sounds. I believe it because the silence is deafening in my ears.
“Thank you, Landon,” I finally breathe into the silence. “Thank you for saving me again.”
But he doesn’t say a word.
Something in me wants to cry again. The way he’s grown so cold now and has distanced himself from me after what we just shared.
It can never happen again.
Did it mean nothing to him? Has he had so many women that a kiss is merely a joke?
The tears burn behind my eyes once more. Why am I so sensitive to him, to how I think he feels about me?
I turn away from him and bury my head into the cool, dark cave of the sofa pillow. I want to hide from him, to retract from him into a hole like a small animal.
He makes me hurt. And I don’t want to hurt for anyone.
Ever again.
I hear a shifting movement behind me. But I don’t turn my head. I don’t want Landon to even look at me right now.
Because I’m too open, too vulnerable and because I’m hopelessly, helplessly in love with him. One look from him will send me into an oblivion of pain.
I begin to cry softly. And that’s when I feel his warm, strong hand against my back, bringing me back to consciousness. He traces his fingers lightly up and down my spine and I shiver involuntarily.
“Vivian,” he whispers into the silence.
I’m frozen and unable to move. Too afraid of how much I care for him. Too afraid to let him read it on my face.
“Turn around, Vivian,” he intones in that soul-searing voice.
I obey him. I turn around, having decided to fully give in to my feelings. I don’t care what he sees or what he thinks or if he feels the same way about me. I just can’t hide myself from him anymore.
He seems startled when he looks me in the eyes. But he takes an index finger and traces my lips with it.
I have never seen such raw, primal lust as I see dancing within his dark, ocean-blue orbs.
Landon, I suddenly think in anguish. I know now I will love you forever. That whatever happens I’ll never be able to forget this moment.
He leans his head towards mine. His mouth closes over my bottom lip, and he alternately sucks and bites down upon it softly.
I whimper again into his mouth.
While Landon’s doing this, his other hand is at the front of my blouse, his fingers slowly undoing each button.
When the buttons are loosened, he spreads my blouse open, agonizingly slowly. He stops kissing me to look down at my chest. Slowly he pulls my bra down just a little, to where my breasts lift over the cups in offering.
He looks back at me. His eyes are scorching. I feel his fingers at my nipples, which have elongated for his touch. He flicks his thumbs across them, then begins to pull and twist them softly.
Finally he bends down to enclose one of my nipples in his mouth. Sucking softly, all of a sudden he bites down.
Hard.
I moan in agony as the pleasure propels my body to life. My legs start to open of their own accord.
Landon moves a hand to my skirt. I can feel his hand reaching beneath the fabric. It sears my skin where he touches me. His hand creeps along my inner thigh, and he pushes my skirt up to bunch it at my waist. I’m left only protected by my thin cotton panties.
I’m in shock when I realize he’s pushing the thin fabric of the crotch to the side, revealing my naked sex. The way it feels to be so exposed to him, the cool air hitting my naked flesh…
His hand briefly passes over my mound. My breath is lodged in my throat and my heart is beating rapidly. He takes an index finger and slides it deep inside me.
“Ohhhh,” I whimper in delectable joy and frustration. I want more, so much more.
“Fuck,” he says in a low, reverent voice, making tiny circles within me. “So fucking tight and wet.”
The whole time he’s fondling me, our eyes are locked. When I whimper again he bites down hard on his lower lip, his eyes creasing in what seems like physical pain.
That’s when I feel him take his thumb and begin to make soft circles around my pulsing clit, his index finger still moving wetly in and out of me. “Landon,” I sigh.
He’s studying my face for every reaction. I have never felt so beautiful, so feminine. So desirable. And I’m close to climaxing. I arch my back, my breasts jutting outwards. When he pushes harder and faster into me, I start shaking my head across the pillow. One of my hands falls to his giant arm, harshly kneading the thick muscle there.
“How does it feel, Vivian?” he whispers.
I can’t speak. It feels too good.
“Tell me, Vivian,” he says in a hoarse whisper.
“It feels…so good,” I respond breathlessly.
Landon’s eyes shut closed for a brief second. When he opens them there’s a dark, wicked sensuality dancing within their depths. His blue eyes smolder with heat and desire.
Oh, he knows how to play my body. He plays it like an instrument. I can hear the wet, smacking sounds he elicits from me as he fingers me even harder. Faster. The sight of his arm muscles moving as he plays with me, as he conquers my most intimate place with his hand, the rippling movement of his thick tattoos, is the most erotic sight I have ever seen.
He’s not a lover, I think. He’s a dancer. He knows me so instinctively that every movement, every touch draws even more and more pleasure out of me.
My head falls back of its own will. The pleasure is growing too intense. I’m going to come, and hard. My legs clamp down on his hand.
“What’s happening to you, Vivian? Tell me,” he growls.
I’m feeling stubborn again. I keep my mouth shut.
“Say it, Vivian. I want to hear it from you.”
“I’m coming, oh God, Landon, I’m going to come…”
“That’s it, baby, come for me. Come hard for me.”
And that’s when I feel it—those bursts of white light exploding from within my body and the fireworks shooting throughout my limbs. I scream out his name as I shudder violently against him. I can feel myself contract over and over around his finger, my pussy trying to milk him.
He sighs, removes his fingers from me softly, and walks back towards the sofa.
Then he just stands there with his back to me.
“Are-are you okay?” I ask timidly when I can breathe again.
“I will be in a while,” he responds. His voice sounds shaky.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, Vivian. Go to bed and get some sleep.”
Chapter 10
Landon
I keep smelling my hand. I want to lose myself within Vivian’s essence.
My hard-on won’t go away. The strange feeling in my heart won’t go away either.
Because my world has just been fucking rocked. A girl just stole my heart for the first time ever in my life.
How badly I wanted to fuck you, Vivian. Tie you down in that white satin bed and fuck your brains out. Forever.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not even Michelle.
The way Vivian’s body responded to what I was doing to it. The way she answered me when I questioned her how it felt. The way she came so hard against me, screaming my name. That sound will haunt my heart forever.
Her perfect tits beneath my mouth, how tight and wet her pussy was for me. How it tried to milk me…How I ached for my finger to be my cock.
She didn’t just come for me. She danced for me. A special, private dance meant only for me.
And it can never, ever happen again.
That beauty, that perfect
ion.
