I want to give him as good as I’m getting, so I pulse the muscles deep in my pelvis in time with his thrusts, wanting to own his orgasm, begging him to fill me with his seed. His voice drops deeper, and his eyes flare with fire as his hips speed up even more. “Yes. Take it. Take it all.”
I wrap my legs around him, crying out when I feel the jets of his hot seed pouring into me, claiming my body, and if I’m honest with myself, claiming my heart as well.
We collapse, curling up in the bed together in a tangle of overlapping arms and legs with sweat and stickiness all over, but I don’t care. We stay just like that . . . and as I feel sleep grab me, I’m ready to stay all night.
Chapter 24
Evan
After McKayla leaves in the pre-dawn grayness, I get right to work, knowing that I’ve got a lot of slack to catch up on. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit, but I’m feeling an urge to make it up to TJ if I can.
There’s something different about the day. I don’t feel the need for energy drinks or cigarettes, and when I glance across the street after getting the first job done, I feel an unfamiliar sensation on my face. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. I’m actually smiling.
Sure, it’s not all sunshine and unicorns. McKayla and Brad are out of the salon all day today, off to the resort for a wedding trial run. I’d laughed when she told me that over coffee shared downstairs in the salon while she packed up her ‘travel kit’.
“Who fixes their hair and makeup just to see how it looks, then washes it all off?” I asked, making her laugh. “I mean, really, a test drive of a hairstyle?”
“Trust me, it’s totally a thing,” she says. “They just want to see different looks . . . make sure everything is perfect for the big day.”
I grin to myself as I work, wondering what McKayla will do to her hair on her wedding day. I decide that it should be big, bouncy pink curls, just like the first time I saw her as a little reminder of how she’d been so fiery and sassy that day in response to my anger. And underneath the dress . . . no panties. For damn sure, no panties as she gives me a naughty grin while the band plays.
“Oh, shit . . .” I whisper as I realize I really just thought about McKayla walking down an aisle toward me. Me, the guy who I swore two weeks ago would never find anyone, and now I’m thinking about weddings? This is big. This should be freaking me right the fuck out.
But strangely, I’m not. I’m steady and maybe even a little excited about the idea that she might actually take vows to put up with me. It’s like the sudden lack of need for caffeine and nicotine. Maybe McKayla’s magic or something.
I laugh to myself, climbing underneath Fast Eddie’s ‘Stang. Damn steering rod . . . I swear, if this fucker ever learns to drive a groove, he’d be the best racer in the state. Instead, I’m making money.
I mutter to myself as I work. “Yeah, I know . . . you’re a badass machine now, too fucked up for your own good, but deep down in your engine, most of these parts are top of the line. Little care, little bit better handling, and you’ll be showing off what you can do.”
I catch the irony in what I told the car as I hear laughter behind me. I stick my head out to find TJ caught up in a full-blown case of giggles. “Well good morning, brother of mine. What’s so funny?”
Through his laughter, TJ hears the smile in my voice and shakes his head. “You’re talking to cars now? Serious question—has it talked back yet?”
I wad up a filthy rag I’ve got on my toolbox and chuck it at him, a grease spot appearing on his face where I tagged him.
I laugh, feeling lighter than air for the first time since . . . well, to be honest, since before that last tour in Afghanistan. “No, fucker, they don’t talk back. Maybe that’s why I talk to them. They don’t bug the fuck outta me like little brothers.”
I mean it to be funny, and TJ laughs too, but maybe there’s a kernel of truth in that. I’ve kept myself cut off from the world because, other than Earl, and then only in small doses, I didn’t want to hear what the hell the rest of the world had to tell me.
That was, until McKayla draped herself all over my bike and changed my life forever, it seems. Since that day, I’ve done better, little by little. Sure, to most people, it’s been unnoticeable, and I’ve scared myself more than once with my realizations, but McKayla’s never given up.
Now I can’t, either. Instead, TJ and I talk as we work, and it’s nice. It feels like old times, back in the days when we’d bullshit, talking about girls and cars while we tossed a football back and forth.
He was the one to take auto shop at school and enjoy the dirty magic of getting a mechanical beast to purr and run, following all the proper dos and don’ts, and while I learned a bit, it was through trial and error by playing with buddies’ cars. I picked up a little in the military’s vehicle check system, but TJ was the one who took all that and refined it, taught me how to apply that knowledge in the real world as a way of bringing me back to life, giving me a focus. It’s all I had for so long, and I appreciate that.
Mid-morning, we decide to take a break. “So, triple coffee?” TJ asks.
“Nah, don’t need it today,” I admit. “I actually slept well last night.”
“Just put a necktie on the door to upstairs if you want to sleep well again,” TJ jokes. I start to laugh when the last face I want to fucking see steps in my garage. Jaxson.
I’m instantly on edge, crossing my arms over my chest, my inner asshole not so deeply buried it can’t pop out in a half second when needed. “What?” I ask him.
Jaxson acts as if he’s accustomed to my behavior and just gives us a casual smile, tucking a hand inside the pocket of his suit pants. “Hey, Evan . . . TJ. Just wondered if you’d seen McKayla around today?”
I raise an eyebrow, obviously not in the mood. I’m not insecure, but he’s not understanding that she’s just not interested in him. She’s my Princess, not his. “Why?”
TJ gives me a glance. Still, I haven’t threatened the man with a beatdown, so he’s not going to say anything. “Oh, it’s been a few weeks since she cut my hair. Was just hoping she could fit me in.”
There’s no change in his tone, no hint that he meant anything other than exactly what he said, but something about the look in his eyes tells me that he isn’t just curious if she could ‘fit him in’ for a haircut.
So I’m silent, a growing tension filling the space as I stare Jaxson down. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even flinch. I’m not sure whether to be impressed, because I know I’ve broken lesser men with just a hard look, or to be worried that he isn’t affected.
TJ decides to step in before the tension can ratchet up another few notches to the point things could get difficult for him and for me, too. “She and Brad are out at the resort today. Salon’s closed until tomorrow.”
Jaxson smiles triumphantly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Thanks, TJ. I guess I’ll just have to see her tomorrow.”
He turns to walk away, a swagger in his walk. He climbs back into that egotistical dickmobile of his and pulls back into traffic, big as life and twice as much a pain in the ass.
As soon as his car’s out of sight, I round on TJ. “What the fuck, man? Just say you don’t know. You don’t tell people’s business to every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”
As soon as I say it, I know TJ won’t understand, and looking in his eyes, I’m right. He grins, giving me a half shrug. “Relax, man. He wants a haircut. Don’t mess with her business, especially with a city council dick. He might not be your favorite guy, but he could help, or hurt, her business.” He says the latter part with a pointed look.
I disagree, but nothing can be done about it now, and I don’t want to ruin the vibe we’ve finally got again, so I try to let it go. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get back to work.”
Chapter 25
McKayla
I wipe my forehead, glad that I went light on the makeup today. It’s been a long day of hair and makeup at the resort, but I know it’s been worth it. The b
ride-to-be was awesome, sweet, and excited to get to play with different looks. She’s the kind of client that makes my job fun sometimes.
It was the mother of the bride that was the problem, a full Momzilla. To start, she wouldn’t accept one of the technological tricks that I use, a tablet that uses a picture of the client and some digital magic to give them a preview. Nope, according to Momzilla, I had to do every hairdo.
She kept saying she wanted her daughter to look exotic on her wedding day and didn’t take it well when I told her that her daughter is the picture-perfect blonde, blue-eyed, corn-fed in Iowa type. Though Brad is a genius with makeup, I had to make it known that a cat-eye liner wasn’t gonna make her look like a Kardashian, but that she was gorgeous as-is. Instead, she ended up critiquing and criticizing every little curl and every hint of eye shadow.
After the back and forth, I’m exhausted and Brad barely says a word on our way back. I know he took the worst of it, but he was a total pro.
“Hey, honey, you want company again tonight?” Brad asks as he gets out. “I can grab some stuff for tomorrow.”
I shake my head, feeling silly. Nothing’s happened, and I wave him off. “Grab some sleep. You earned it. Besides, if I get the heebie-jeebies, I think I know someone who can help me.”
Brad grins and starts pumping two fingers through his other fist. “Yeah, yeah, just remember, sweet buns, that I’ve got an advantage over you.”
“What? Because you could have a watertight ass and not steal Evan from me,” I tease back. “He likes some cushion for his pushin’, not a skeleton. And I don’t think he’s on your team.”
“Yeah, but I’ll have you know I can suck a golf ball through a garden hose. And sometimes, that’s enough for a switch-hitter. Top that, bitch,” Brad sassily replies. We look at the each other, matching twinkles in each of our eyes before we laugh.
“That was a good one. Ooh, I really needed that after today. Thanks, honey. Take care and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I give him a wave and pull out. It’s true. I’m hoping to have Evan over tonight, so Brad would be a third wheel. A happy to watch third wheel, but I’m not sharing an inch of what Evan’s packing . . . all for me. After all, I wouldn’t want Brad to get too jealous.
I get back to the salon and park right in front of the door, peeking at the garage to check if I see Evan in the dark or at least the light of the cherry on a cigarette, but it’s completely dark across the street.
Oh, well, I could use a shower after today, so I’ll clean up and then give him a call to see if he wants to come over for a late dinner. I know for damn sure I could use some creamy dessert. I walk into my dark apartment, dropping my keys in the bowl beside the door and flipping on the light.
“Surprise!”
A deep voice scares the shit out of me, making me yell and spin, jumping halfway into the air and stumbling against the doorframe, knocking my head a good one.
For a split second, I think it’s Evan, but then the voice registers and I turn to see Jaxson sitting at my dining table, a fancy spread of crystal and linen surrounding fine white china and a large arrangement of roses.
He’s dressed to the nines, too, a crisp black suit and white shirt undone at the neck, almost as if someone called central casting and asked for ‘Rich Romantic Alpha-Male’. He reclines in my chair, a tumbler of something amber in his hand. He doesn’t break into apartments often, but when he does, he drinks well, apparently.
My jaw hangs open in shock, and my head rings so much I don’t think to just get the fuck outta here. “Jaxson, what are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
He smirks, sipping his drink and setting it aside. “I’m a man of many talents. Please sit down and we can discuss some of them over dinner. I brought your favorite . . . lasagna.”
He stands, pulling out the chair for me like a gentleman. I’m confused by how calm he seems, like this is actually a normal date.
I brace my hand against the wall, trying to keep the rising notes of panic out of my voice as my brain uselessly latches on to minor details out of fear. “What? I don’t like lasagna. You need to leave, Jaxson. Now.”
I harden my voice and my face, hooking a thumb toward the door. Fear’s really starting to make my knees tremble, and I’m suddenly aware of just how far it is from my hand to my phone.
He looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs, unconcerned. “Ah, perhaps it’s my favorite then, definitely something you should try though. Sit.”
His voice turns dangerously cold, something robotic sounding around the edges of it as if it’s simply a recording, no emotions.
Something is terribly wrong here. I’d been thinking Jaxson was just extraordinarily persistent, but breaking into my apartment to surprise me with dinner takes things from persistent into criminally psycho territory.
Jaxson smiles again, and I see something darker and more terrifying lurking beneath his spit-shined façade than I ever imagined. Underneath this façade covering the face isn’t a nice guy but a truly sick mind. I just missed it because, well, I don’t know why. But Jaxson isn’t weird . . . he’s evil.
Jaxson interrupts my epiphany, his voice cracking like a steel whip. His eyes spark dangerously, and his hand clenches around the chair back until he’s white-knuckled. “McKayla. Sit.”
I take a big breath, my mind racing on how to get out of this. I’m alone in my apartment, the door downstairs is locked and a bitch to get open, Brad is home, and Evan and I didn’t actually have plans tonight, so nobody knows to come look for me.
I’m on my own.
I need a plan. I know I can’t get out of here, downstairs, and outside without him catching me. So I need to play for time, try to find an opening to subdue him somehow. For now, I don’t want to anger him, so I do as he says and move to sit in the dining chair. I look over my shoulder at him as he tries to push my chair in like we’re actually going to sit here and have a romantic dinner date. I glance at the table setting, but the knife he’s laid out is good for nothing more than pissing someone off.
Tentatively, I try talking to him. “Jaxson, look . . . this is all lovely, but I’ve been honest with you from the start. I just want to be friends, nothing more. You need to go.”
His calmness evaporates, instantly replaced with anger, and he pushes my chair the rest of the way in, my ribs smacking the table a little too hard. “You think you’ve been honest? You said you didn’t want to date anyone and then you go and let that asshole fuck you like some slut, right in front of the windows where anyone could see. Now tell me, how honest is that?”
I push away from the table as much as I can, leaning back to be able to grab a breath, but an instant later, it clicks. He knows about Evan and me having sex on the salon bench because he was there . . . with a camera. “You . . . you’re the cameraman.”
He ignores me and continues, talking more to the room than to me as he comes from around the back of the chair to loom over me, one hand on the table and one on the chair back as he looks down at me. “Why would you want a guy like that? He treats you like shit, just giving a little tug on the hook he has in you, and you go running off to him like a damn trained puppy. I wanted to treat you right, like a lady, take you to dinner and get to know you. But if you want a rough bastard who just takes what he wants, fine. I can be that.” My eyes widen in terror as I realize what he’s saying, and I try to push the chair back more to get away.
Without preamble, he roughly grabs my arms and jerks me up from the chair, hauling me to him as he brings his lips to mine.
He’s got a fierce hold on my arms, keeping me still, but I turn my head to get away and yell, “No! Jaxson. Stop. Let me go!”
My struggles give me a little more room, and I manage to get my hands up to his chest, pushing against him with everything I have, but that’s it. In the space between us, I get hysterical, flailing to try to get away from his grip and yelling ‘NO’ over and over again.
He releases one arm, and I twist, t
hinking for a split-second that I have a chance. I whirl away from him, but it seems to be exactly what he wants as he yanks me back. I don’t see it coming when he backhands me, stars instantly blooming in front of my eyes.
I’m stunned, and he takes advantage, pressing me back against the blind-covered window as he lifts a hand to my throat. My toes barely graze the floor, and the air’s cut off almost instantly, my limbs paralyzing in fear.
“You want it rough, McKayla?” he snarls in my ear, leaning it. “You let him fuck you hard in front of a window. Guess it’s my turn now, but I’m a bit more brutal than he was. I think a slut like you is gonna like it though.”
I hear him undoing his belt and make one last effort, clawing at his neck, but my nails just slide over his suit jacket, one of them snapping off. I gurgle, trying to fight the black roses that are blooming in my vision. “No . . .”
Right before the dark can take over, I have one last thought of Evan. I’m so sorry for not listening because this is gonna be impossible for him to come back from.
It’s not paranoia when they’re actually out to get you.
Chapter 26
Evan
Knowing McKayla should be home soon, I step outside to stretch, smell the air, and wait for her. It’s strange. Today’s been amazing, no cigs at all and only one energy drink at two thirty during that lull time when everyone gets drifty at work.
Today was awesome too. I haven’t gotten this much work done since my uniformed days, and other than a crick in my shoulder that I plan on stretching outside before finishing up a last job, I’m feeling great.
When I step out, I see that her car’s already parked. I must have missed her as I was washing up, and I decide to give her some more time. It’s only a few seconds when I look up and see her light click on, the window glowing from within. I know she’s exhausted, but I need to see her tonight.
Dirty Talk Page 38
