Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1)

by Rie Warren

  I stalked to my office and they all trooped after me, tripping over each other in the narrow hallway. Banging open the door, I flinched when I saw what was inside.

  A veritable warehouse full of sex toys had been arranged on every available surface from my desk to the two-seater sofa, the chairs, and the tall metal filing cabinets.

  No, not sex toys . . . fake cocks—dildos, dongs, schlongs made of every substance and in every color. Oh, and my favorite, the double intruder. I had flashbacks to The Gee Spot shop in Atlanta.

  And I was surrounded by a bunch of dickheads who crowded me into the penis palace. They tuned me around so I could see their extra special treat: a giant glossy poster of their Stone’s Roses snapshot.

  I couldn’t even keep a scowl on my face; they were such assholes, but they were mine—true grit, funny, and goddamn creative. What could I say? They were my favorite assholes. When I started chuckling, they all let loose.

  “Ya know, we just wanted to do up your orifice.” Ray could barely get it out between gusts of laughter.

  “Where the hell did you get all these dicks?”

  Gerald stood by the door. “I bought a load of them at Generation Sex up on Dorchester Road.”

  “Batteries Not Included, it just opened in West Ashley.” Javier pulled a toothpick out of his pocket, cleaning his oil-encrusted nails with it.

  “Moan-A-Me had just gotten in new stock. I think I’m their favorite customer now.” Mick slapped his thigh with a grungy baseball cap.

  “And what the fuck am I supposed to do with ’em?”

  “I don’t know. Try them out on your lady love, that Leelee, comprende, amigo?”

  Gerald smacked Javier on the back of the head. “The fuck? Didn’t you check your Facebook last night?”

  “What? What I do now?” Javier frowned.

  Leaning against the desk, knocking over a few plastic pricks, I muttered, “’S’over.”

  “What? It can’t be!” The boy looked as horrified as I felt. “Tell her you’re not gay already, si?”

  “Did that.” My scowl turned black.

  Ray’s bushy blond beard twitched. “Tell her you love her? That always works for me when the missus gets pissy.”

  “Tried that.”

  A collective groan swept through the room.

  “Flowers? Hey, send her some of our roses, why don’t ya?” Mick offered.

  “I don’t think that’s gonna cut it. I’d say she’s beyond the flowers and an apology stage.” Before they could shower me with any more pearls of piston-jockey wisdom, I looked at my watch. I toughened up my bark. “Hey, any one of y’all notice what time it is?”

  “Opening!” Ray hustled out to the front.

  The others shuffled away with well-meaning smiles and pats on my shoulder—in other words, pity.

  Shit.

  Before long, I heard the air compressors singing, impact guns trilling, the bell over the door chiming as down-home folk shouted hellos to my familiar crew.

  It wouldn’t do to sit around sulking all day in my cave-o’-dicks, so I headed out to get my grime on after I rolled up the poster. I snuck outside to Javier’s pick-up truck and picked the lock. Unrolled over his windshield like a sun shield, the assholes faced inward. Then I returned to the office and crammed the cocks into the top two empty drawers of a filing cabinet.

  Satisfied that every last dildo was out of sight, I walked outside. The buzz of traffic on 17 and the hum of work inside the open garage bays were comforting. The same old cronies sat out front. Some of them were Dad’s friends. Some from as far back as my granddaddy’s era. They were here for nothing more than people watching, old man gossiping, and shooting the shit. I’d even provided a few tables for them, umbrellas and all. They showed every day, setting up their checker- and chessboards. I was pretty damn sure money exchanged hands, but they kept it friendly. They ate my donuts, drank my coffee, used the facilities and were so deeply ingrained in the place they were family.

  Stone’s was family.

  I greeted them with respectful handshakes. They called me sonny-boy with wide smiles in return.

  It almost brought tears to my eyes.

  I passed the benches, not listening to the women whispering as I walked by with a simple “how-do”. I didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t looking for anything anymore. I’d found it all in Leelee and let her slip away.

  Balling my fists, I headed to the Pit, bay one. That was where we tackled the hard cases. I joined in on the ambulance the boys had promised to get back in business in forty minutes or less. Happy to be busy, my mind turned over like a well-tuned engine for a change instead of being hung up on Leelee. We rolled that big bastard out in thirty-five minutes, complete with interior detailing and exterior wash down.

  Fist bumps all around.

  I got stuck into the thick of the garage for the rest of the day. I’d be up to my eyeballs in bills and paperwork come the weekend, but for now, I was up to my elbows in grease. I worked the boys double hard and busted their nuts. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, and that hadn’t happened since I’d been with Leelee our final night in my bed.

  After the last customer left, the open sign turned over, I headed out back. There was a strip of grass behind the garage, a couple picnic tables, and an icebox I’d filled with beer, soda, and Popsicles during my lunch break. Ma showed up with hotdogs, hamburgers, a giant tub of slaw, and the kid. The boneheads presided out back as I fired up the grill.

  The kid was hefted into the air and tossed around like a potato sack. I turned my back, and shook my head, listening to his squeals of laughter. By the time we sat down to chow down, he was already two Popsicles too far gone. I was going to cut sugar out of his diet. Tomorrow. Just like I was gonna cut Leelee out of mine. The detox would be “epic”, as Felicia would say.

  That’s when it slammed into me. I’d miss them all. The Hens—including Missy—the Widows. Most of all, Leelee. I tried not to imagine her here. It didn’t work. I knew she’d love it, especially the garage. Of course I’d have to blind motherfuckers so they didn’t stare at her perfect tits, but that wouldn’t be a hardship. I still had the tire iron handy.

  Ma touched the side of my face. “You miss her.”

  I struggled to put it all into balance. I was grateful as hell for what I had. This was a good life, but one huge part was gone. “Yeah, I do.”

  I stared out over my friends and family, listening to their laughter and chatter. And I wanted more.

  ****

  Over the next couple of weeks Stone’s was busier than ever, and I partnered with a new automotive parts company. Being so busy I was run ragged was good. It kept my mind off Leelee: where she was, what she was doing, and hoping to high hell she wasn’t doing anyone else. On the weekends, I added the final touches to the house, like . . . Jesus. Was I nesting? What? Just in case Leelee walked through the front gate one day out of the clear freaking blue?

  It didn’t matter. Hope wouldn’t die. The last thing I had to do—after new curtains, color-matchy cushions, candles, and new crockery—was fix the loose toilet handle in the master bathroom. The handle Dad and I were supposed to repair the day he’d died.

  Saturday evening, I put down my tools. I wiped my palms and gave the flush a go. The bowl whooshed like a charm, no jiggling required. Some of the old ache uncoiled from my chest but it still hurt like a bitch.

  After a shaky breath and a swipe under my nose, I opened two bottles of beer. Clinking them together, I flopped onto the floor. I set one of the beers across from me. “Here’s to you, Pops. I’ll always love you.”

  I leaned my head back and shut my eyes. I tried to remember what it felt like to hug him. My shoulders shook and I let it go. I didn’t hear tiny feet approaching, didn’t know the kid watched me until I took another swig and peered around.

  He popped his sucking finger out of his mouth. “Daddy, why is you sittin’ in the bathroom, drinkin’ next to the potty?”

  “Why are
you,” I corrected on reflex.

  “Huh?” The kid scratched that goddamn adorable cowlick. His Superman cape had been traded out for Batman. “And why is you weaking again?”

  I pulled him onto my lap. “I love you. And it’s okay to cry sometimes. I was thinking about your granddaddy. I miss him.”

  “Like I missed you in ’Lana?” His mousy voice twisted my heart and put it all back together again.

  “Yeah.” I pressed my nose into the back of that downy soft neck. I blew a raspberry, laughing when he giggled. “Something like that, kid.”

  ****

  The house felt empty even with the homey touches I’d added. Even with the kid and his nonstop chatter from dawn to dusk. I couldn’t get Leelee out of my mind, and I couldn’t get in touch with her. Since the only thing I had from her were memories and Ride, I wound down each night by soaking in her words that were already part of my soul.

  Jase found Ave huddled over in her room, the one she hadn’t slept in for two months. Two aching, beautiful, amazing months.

  As usual, her bedroom was tits-up, end-over-end. His lips twitched as he held in a laugh. “Watcha doin’?”

  The night had fucked him over from start to finish, but not as much as her jerking shoulders while she struggled to pull together a . . . a canvas bag full of clothes?

  His amusement from moments before curdled on his tongue. He tried again, this time sterner. “What the hell are you doing, Ave?”

  Long brown hair clung to her damp cheeks when she snapped her head around. “Are you still doing it?”

  His confusion turned to coldness. Fear ran through him like sharp shards of icicles injected into his veins. “Doing what exactly?”

  “You left your phone, I answered it.” The bag closed, she turned and stood. “Doing them. PS. You’re two hours late for your date with someone called M Delesseleine.”

  Colder than fear, worse than shock, the instant loss of Avery immobilized him.

  “Are you still whoring yourself out for money, sugah?”

  Getting in her face because he’d rather deal with her fury than the grueling pain if she left him, he roared, “YES! Damn you, yes!”

  Ave shrank back.

  “You think I like it? Fucking those women? Getting bankrolled and bed-rolled by broads I couldn’t give a shit about? Do you think I wouldn’t rather be here, with you?” His fists clenched, released, clenched. “Who else is gonna pay the bills, huh? How else will I make this much, this fast, so I can still have time to study and finally get what I want!”

  “How can you slut around every night with a new . . . what? What am I supposed to call them, Jase?” She sent a ringing slap to his cheek when he didn’t answer. “How can you fuck them when you’ve never made love to me?”

  “I can’t be with you, Ave. I’m dirty inside.” His head bent, his whole body did too until he kneeled on the floor in front of her. Eyes shaded with loss, longing—the world of emotion inside them—found hers. “I’m too dirty for you.”

  I put down my beer, inspected my hands. Oil stains were embedded beneath my short nails, turning the lines of my knuckles dark. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for Leelee. I wasn’t the smooth-talking Stone she’d met. I was just a car mechanic, a single dad . . . a lonely man.

  “Have you forgotten I’m broken too? I’m broken without you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “What do you want?”

  “I want you, Ave. Only you, always you . . .” He crawled closer.

  She strained away from him. “Is that where you were tonight? Did you double book? Lose your calendar?”

  “No.” His laugh held no mirth. Lifting his hands, he blew across bloodied, cracked knuckles. “I was kicking Duncan Locke’s ass, like I swore I would.” His heart found a new rhythm when she lifted his hand, kissing the swollen mess.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He hooked his discolored fingers under her chin. “Not as hurt as you. I’m sorry.”

  “Did Duncan apologize?”

  “Yeah, after he screamed like a girl. I only broke a couple ribs.” With his boots. Jase grinned, remembering the crunch of bones. “And his nose.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he took what wasn’t his. Because he tried to break you.” Jase’s throat closed tight and he wanted more of Ave’s hands, her embrace. He needed it to erase the image of her being fucked against her will. “Because you are a treasure. No one has that right. Fucking no one.”

  “I’m whole with you, Jase.”

  A thick choking sound preceded him crushing her to him.

  I got up from bed and opened a window. The curtains flipped against my bare legs. Emotions similar to Jase’s spun through me until I crouched on the floor.

  “You are so . . .” Ave’s words ran out for once.

  “Stupid?”

  She pressed small kisses all over his face, lastly to his lips. “So honorable.”

  His gut clenched. All those women. Night after night. Premeditated fucks. Dollar signs and decimals instead of names and phone numbers was what they added up to. “I’m not. Those women, they’re jobs. I don’t have fun. I fuck and get off ’em, get out.”

  Ave winced but stayed wrapped around him.

  “I’ll stop. It’s just you, it’s only ever been you, Ave. Just forgive me, forgive me, please.”

  “Yes. Always yes, Jase.” On her feet, she extended her hand. “Let’s clean you up, bruiser.”

  After she’d cleansed his hands, she unbuttoned his shirt. He shivered when she traced the muscled mass of his pecs, a lone finger trailing through the line of brown hair that bisected his abs.

  Ave breathed a laugh when his stomach muscles contracted under her touch. Half-lidded and heavy, that blue gaze found his. “Will you?”

  “Stop? Yeah, I said I would.” He shuddered through a long groan as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders.

  She stood back in her white shirt, which was his white shirt. Dropping her hands from him, she removed her pants and panties. His ears hummed, blood rushed to his groin, engorging him. Heavy, round breasts filled out his shirt in a way that made the masculine cut insanely fucking sexy.

  Ave touched the buttons of his jeans, beneath which his cock stretched the faded fabric. “No, I meant, will you make love to me tonight, Jase?”

  Avery popped the top button free, and this time her hands were sure.

  ****

  He picked her up, which was good because her knees gave out. In the bedroom—their bedroom—he sat on the edge of the bed. “Finish what you started.”

  A moan skipped from her throat. She knelt between his wide-open thighs and thumbed the last three buttons free.

  Sounding harsh, Jase said, “Take my cock out, Ave.”

  Oh God, this was what she’d wanted. Opening the jeans, her hand burrowed inside. He didn’t lift his hips or shift a muscle, he wouldn’t help her, she realized. Anticipation tightened her nipples into hard points and curled inside her belly. He groaned when she made contact, circling her fingers around his base, fingertips not meeting around that thick shaft. Lying on his belly, his cock was irresistible. The backs of her fingers glided up and then down while Jase watched, lips parted, breaths ragged.

  “Stop. Stop, Ave, or I swear to fuck, I’ll come right now.”

  With sudden violence—the best kind—Jase snapped forward and ripped her shirt open down the middle. “Better.” He bent her forward and sucked her nipples with long endless draws of his tongue and mouth.

  Her hips circled in time with his teasing, biting sucks. Avery threw her head back, moaning uncontrollably. Jase released her. Riding his shaft within his fist, he wriggled free of his jeans. He flitted two fingertips across the clear liquid on the head of his cock and pushed them into her mouth.

  The taste, his taste was indescribable. Salty. Sweet. Musk and man. Addictive.

  He returned to stroking. “Show me your cunt.”

  The words alone tied her in tight knots only he could release. She brough
t one leg up, placing her foot on the covers beside his hip.

  He sat up, his face nearly at the juncture of her thighs. His breath spilled across her, followed by deep licks of his tongue. “So wet. For me?”

  When Avery nodded, he sank her onto his lap. Coarse brown hair rasped against her thighs. His hands on her waist, his tongue trailing along her neck, he dragged her back and forth over the silky hot rod of flesh.

  “Please now, Jase.”

  “Yeah? Need me now?”

  A whimper, that was all she could utter, but he knew. He pulled her with him all the way onto the bed. Her head rested against the pillows, her legs splayed. Their kisses were deep and drugging. And when he entered her, Avery could see, she could feel it was with tenderness so vast it drew from a well of deep emotion, not just desire and need.

  “Feels like my first time, Jase.” Her lips strayed from his jaw to his mouth.

  He stretched all the way over her, filling her deep. “Then it is. I’m your first. Your first lover.”

  His words catapulted heat and hope inside of her heart.

  Her lips pressed to his, she breathed, kissed, gasped. “First love.”

  “Only love, Ave. My only love.”

  ****

  Three weeks after the convention, the kid had been broken of his sugar habit, but I still held onto my Leelee addiction. I ditched a different one instead. The minute I’d arrived back in Mt. Pleasant, I’d turned over a new, non-man-slut leaf. I took myself off the Friday night fuck market. When I went to bars, I didn’t pick up chicks. I sat with my drink and stared at the wall. And I remembered one night, one song by Chet Baker, and a gorgeous woman in my arms.

  Getting an earful from Janice over the phone and Javier in person, I was double-teamed into setting up a Twitter account, hoping Leelee might make contact. The tweets poured in and the texts did too. I was followed by Devon, Jacqueline, Felicity, Missy, Fred, and the rest, as well as many friends I seemed to have picked up in Atlanta, and over the years around home. I hankered after every secondhand word on Leelee.

  As for Nicky, our fake break-up hit the social network radar and his novels went supernova viral. He’d had to deal with the fallout from the Hens—two years of deception didn’t sit well with them. Until he found out they’d been placing bets on his sexuality the entire time. After he learned about that little piece of grifting, he was golden. I didn’t see him much, and I missed him, too. He’d dived back into the whirlwind of writing, playing catch up, deadlines . . . and he had his own stalker-fan to deal with: Nicky’s Chicky from the Con.