Poet

by A. M. Johnson

My brows lifted. “Another insult? My ego is bruised.”

  I earned another laugh, another sip. “No, not really. I just told you not to feel so pleased with yourself.”

  I teased.

  “I’m taking this as a win.”

  “A win?” she asked, her disbelief not enough to deflate my victory.

  I leaned back in my chair. “A win. I count them. And tonight I have three.”

  She quirked her right brow. “Three?”

  “The kiss, Jade’s, and now this. I can read you very easily.”

  “So cocky.” Her smile drew her cheeks into those two spectacular dimples.

  “You love it.”

  And when she giggled, I shattered into a million, sun-soaked pieces. Words that had begun to trickle through the cracks of my brain, after meeting her, now rushed like a violent current breaking through the locked door inside my mind. She’d brought them back, she’d given me the key.

  Muse.

  Aphrodite.

  Temptress.

  My face held its mask, but I was feeling anything but calm. She’d raised the dead. And my heart raced through my veins. I wanted to ask her to come to my place, have her show me what else she could do. See what it was like to drown inside of her, see what else I might be hiding. But she trembled, the wind whipping her hair, kissing goose bumps on her neck where my coat was too big to cover her, so instead I said, “You’re cold… we should go.” Her smile only said enough that it pleased me to know she wanted to stay. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  We both stood at the same time. The awkward ending silencing our mouths as we threw our half-emptied coffee cups into the trash. Melissa turned and started to remove my jacket.

  “Wear it until we get to your car.” I stood in front of her and pulled the zipper all the way up. Her eyes lifted, I saw a thousand questions churning, and I wondered if she wanted to go home with me. If I’d awoken that same beast inside of her. I pressed a kiss to her cheek before I asked, “Where did you park?”

  “Broadway,” she said in one breathless syllable.

  Our hands met in the middle. Not my move. Not hers. A mutual need. I hid my smile.

  Win number four.

  The walk wasn’t long enough, and before I was ready, she said, “This is me.” And pointed to a small white sedan.

  I followed her the short distance, watched her as she unlocked her car, and removed my jacket. Every second that passed narrowed my throat and pulsed beneath my jaw.

  Anxiety.

  Lust.

  Fear.

  Desire.

  I was suffocating on all the words. My inexperience was closing off my lungs.

  She handed me my coat, our night was over. Her eyes occupied by the asphalt as she whispered, “Thank you, I… I had a really good time.”

  Invite her home.

  Follow through.

  Follow through.

  Follow the fuck through.

  A step was all it took for her to raise her eyes to mine, and the color of rose petals stretched across her cheeks.

  Win number five.

  I let the weight of my body move me forward and placed the jacket on the roof of the car. She was a statue with parted lips and painted cheeks and all I wanted was to touch her, taste her, make sure she knew I would see her again. Tempt her to come home with me tonight.

  I brushed my thumb down the center of her lips. Slow down, savor this… indulge.

  Her lips were soft, her breath fast as my thumb brushed past her mouth, down her chin, and along her jaw. My touch traced the line of her neck and found her heartbeat. It hummed beneath my fingertips. My left hand pressed into the curve of her hip and she melted. One more step had her against the back driver side door. Her body seamless with mine, my lips on hers, and all the things I wanted were trapped in her small quiet moan. Melissa’s hands mapped my chest and my stomach before they slid into place around my neck. She was tiptoes and weak limbs, and all the rational thought I had drained from my body.

  I bit her top lip, and then gently kissed the bottom one trying to find control. But she lowered her hands to my waist and pulled me closer. There was no emptiness between us, no hiding the lust that pushed against her stomach, no muzzling the groan that echoed in the stale night air. She smiled against my mouth, and I kissed her again, kissed her until her fingers grasped at the fabric of my sweater, until I heard one last whimper.

  “Kieran.” She was gasping.

  “Come home with me?”

  She laughed, and I smirked.

  “No.”

  I leaned back, cupped her face between my palms. Watched her brown eyes flicker with the darkest of flames. “It’s because I’m a virgin, isn’t it?” There was too much humor in the words for her to take me seriously.

  “Not at all.”

  I lowered my hands to her waist and asked another serious question disguised as a tease. “It doesn’t bother you… the inexperience?”

  She met my eyes and my heart tripped. “If you fuck like you kiss… I would’ve never known.”

  I swallowed. “Come home with me?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I like you too much.”

  “I like you too much.”

  I heard her voice in my head, so faint, I could almost touch it, but the alarm on my phone pulled me from her scent of jasmine. My bleary eyes registered the daylight first, I’d forgotten to shut the blinds. I pushed away my sheets, picked up my phone from the nightstand, pressed the wrong thing at least five times before it finally offered me peace so I could lie back down.

  I cursed under my breath. The damn phone had wrenched me back to reality, back from last night, and away from the hot ass dream I was having. Instead of sending Melissa home, like I had, safe in her car with a few more kisses to remember me by, I was dreaming she’d said yes and came home with me after all. Thoughts of her mouth on my skin, her body in my bed, under me, above me, her dark hair feathered against my flesh…

  If you fuck like you kiss…

  Fuck like you kiss…

  Fuck like you kiss…

  It was the sound of her voice as I consumed her. My name falling from her lips… wanting.

  Fuck like you kiss…

  The phrase was the rhythm I found as I fisted my hard length and stroked my hand up and then down. I’d been like this since last night, wound up, and underfed. Two words that usually ruined this, sickness and sin, had been replaced by her name. By her voice. By her taste. The muscles in my stomach tensed as I closed my eyes, pictured her above me, straddling me. It was her hands, her mouth, her body…

  Fuck like you kiss.

  Each stroke was a plea for relief.

  My jaw clenched with a growl, and I lifted my hips, once, twice until every muscle in my body seized as my impure thoughts spilled down my hand and onto my stomach. My breathing filled with sweet release, but my heart continued to beat for her, for more. This would never be enough.

  My eyes opened and avoided the mess I’d made. Shame splattered across my skin. I’d learned there was no end to guilt, it was a horizon never meant to be found, and I wouldn’t let myself wade in its waters, wouldn’t let it eat me alive.

  I like you too much.

  It felt good. Good to be wild. To be a man who wanted something and planned on taking it. I convinced myself of these things as I stood and headed to the shower. It wasn’t until I was dressed, and opening the back door of the shop that I allowed myself to believe it. Melissa was the first woman to make me want to sin without any fear of consequence. She wasn’t a test from God, she was real, and I liked her too much, as well.

  “So…” Liam’s deep voice caught me off guard.

  “She’s awesome.”

  “Awesome? Like, I finally got laid awesome, or she’s going to make you work for it awesome?”

  My eyes darted around the shop. We were the only ones here that I could see.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  His shoulders sagged as he handed me a cup o
f coffee from his workstation. “I guess it’s cool she didn’t give it up on the first date, but I was hoping.”

  “There’s something very wrong with you.” I laughed as I brought the cup to my mouth.

  “Never said there wasn’t.” Liam’s smirk broke into a real smile. “So, you like her?” His eyebrows lifted as he sipped from his cup.

  “I think I do. It’s weird. I’m just getting to know her, but I really want to know more…more than I think is normal.”

  “Nah, that shit’s normal. Fuck, Kelly had my ass the minute she smarted off to me. Mom always said, ‘When you know… you know.’”

  “Liam O’Connell the romantic.” Ronnie’s voice startled me and Liam laughed as he raised his cup.

  “How’d the hot date go?” she asked, though it lacked true interest, and set her keys into her bag.

  I hadn’t even heard her come in.

  “I’m going to ask her out again.”

  “Not tonight?” Liam’s brow set in a stern line.

  “Why not?”

  “Three days, little brother. I told you this.” Declan’s smile was brighter than usual as he walked toward us from the breakroom. I guess Liam and I hadn’t been alone after all.

  “I don’t want to play games.”

  “Oh, but she wants you to,” Ronnie purred and snaked her hand down my chest as she walked by me toward her station.

  “I just threw up a little,” Liam said. His face pinched tight as if he was really feeling sick.

  “Three days?” I asked Declan, ignoring the other two idiots.

  He ran his fingers through the beard on his chin. “Do what you want.”

  “Just don’t fuck it up,” Liam added.

  I exhaled a long breath and left my brothers behind in hopes they’d leave me be. The front desk was my usual hiding place, at least until Kemp showed up. The appointments today were heavy, and I wouldn’t get out of here until eleven. Another twelve-hour day draining me before it had even begun. I wouldn’t be able to see her tonight.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocked the screen, and typed out a message.

  Me: Can I see you tomorrow?

  She responded before I set down my phone.

  Melissa: I work tonight and tomorrow.

  Me: At the bar?

  Melissa: Yeah, but I have two days off after that.

  Two days. My smile crept up my cheeks.

  Me: Can I claim those two days as mine now, or is that too forward?

  I wanted to see the smile I knew was sitting on her face, hear the giggle that had shattered me.

  Melissa: I think I could fit you in.

  Me: Way to make a guy feel special.

  Melissa: It’s the least I can do.

  Flames spread through my fingertips.

  Me: Is that so?

  Me: If you fuck like you kiss... I’m sure you’re capable of great things.

  Melissa: Goodbye, Kieran

  Me: I’ll text you later with specifics.

  Melissa: You better be talking about the date.

  I laughed out loud and didn’t give a shit who heard me.

  Me: Of course.

  Melissa: I meant it when I said I liked you too much.

  Melissa: Don’t ruin it.

  My grin amplified along with my pulse as the words formed behind my eyes like I imagined paint and ink did for Liam and Declan. I didn’t care how it seemed, or if it made me look weak. She’d given me back the syllables, the letters, and I wanted her to have them all. I wanted each goodbye to be hers, to resonate.

  I didn’t know her well, but I think… I think my soul did.

  Me: I want to know it, the adventure of you, your love, and your horizons, peaked with sharp edges, the cut fits and feels, and I bow at the feet of what could be.

  I pressed send without any regard for my heart, for my own sanity. I knew she wouldn’t reply, and I knew I couldn’t wait two days.

  “Hey, Liam, you think Kelly would let you off her chain for the night?” I hollered and he scowled.

  “Why?” he asked as he approached me.

  “I want to go out.”

  “Why?” he asked again, seeing through my bullshit.

  “She works at a bar.”

  He exhaled an annoyed breath. “I think I could persuade her. Did Mel invite you?”

  I set my eyes on his, no shame, no fear. I was going after what I wanted. “No.”

  Liam’s face softened, and his smile shouted, it’s about fucking time.

  “I’ll call Kelly and tell her I’ll be late.” He gripped my shoulder. “Amen, little brother.”

  I bow at the feet of what could be.

  Kieran’s last message had been on repeat in my head all day. I’d been half-awake for the lunch shift I’d worked for my sister today because I’d been dreaming in his words. I was used to nightmares, self-doubt, and shame. Kieran was making it hard to keep holding on to the safety net I’d cast around myself. I’d stumbled through the day on love-drunk legs and, at one point, after I’d forgotten yet another item on someone’s order, my father had given me a look that sobered me in an instant. His eyes had kept their soft creases, but the accusation had been there.

  Is she high?

  I’d kept my shit together for the rest of the day. But tonight, I was dragging, lost in thoughts of him, his words, his mouth, how he’d become the teacher, and I’d become the student. He’d kissed me in a way I wasn’t used to. Like he was desperate to hold on, clinging to those precious pieces Chance had left undisturbed. We needed more. More time, more air, I was his breath, and he was mine. I raised my fingers to my lips, felt the slight sting of his stubble, and closed my eyes.

  Did I deserve to feel this happy? Did I deserve a guy like him?

  “Hey, babe. Can I get Bud Light?” My eyes opened and locked on the customer across the bar.

  He appraised me with boredom as if I was taking up his time. I nodded my head and sucked in a deep breath of sweat, sex, and coconut. The pink overhead lights lit his pale face and, without a doubt, I had the answer to my question. No. I did not deserve a guy like Kieran. I would ruin his playful smile and harden his sweet lips, and I didn’t know if I could survive the death of all that good.

  I grabbed a bottle of beer from the cooler and handed it across the bar. He threw down a five, and I watched as he walked over to the table that had kept me and the trainee running our asses off all night. It was a typical Friday night. A mix of college kids, husbands “out with friends,” and the usual businessmen. But there was also a huge bachelor party and those dicks most likely would close the place down.

  Dacia was giving them fake smiles as she finally escaped and made her way over to the bar. She was wearing The Western’s standard uniform, not counting the pasties and G-strings on stage. The bar staff got to wear boy-cut, black, spandex shorts, so short they looked almost like underwear, and a white, halter top, spaghetti strap tank that revealed more stomach than I was comfortable with. A small pink cowboy hat sat just above my left breast with The Western Lounge written in a curlicue, rope-type font. The material was practically see through, and of course, no bras allowed. It was no wonder customers thought our flesh was for sale.

  “I hate these fucking uniforms,” Dacia complained, and I laughed without humor.

  “Don’t like getting touched, hit on, get a job at Olive Garden.” I smirked and she bit back her retort. “It’s a strip club, what did you expect?”

  I should’ve asked myself the same thing every time a guy got handsy and I about ripped his dick off, but after everything, I figured I was just being sensitive.

  She worried her bottom lip as she considered me. It was easy to tell she didn’t like what she saw, and that was fine, I was leaving this hellhole.

  Her lips released from her teeth with an audible pop. “I know it’s a strip club, but Jaime should have more security.”

  He kept his security guards on a leash. Off-duty cops who turned a blind eye to the illegal lap dance
s held in the back room. But she was right. There were too many times when dances turned into more than the girls could handle, I should know, and sometimes when he’d staff security too light, things got ugly really fast.

  I eased the set of my lips and her features relaxed, as well. “This is a hard job, but you’ve done really great tonight. It’s fucking nuts and you held your own, you can do this.” My smile was genuine when I said, “And if shit gets crazy, ask for Juan, he’s the cop who’s always watching the back door, he likes to break bones.”

  Her laughter was nervous, but she grabbed a few glasses and gave me a wry grin. “Well, that table wants another round, and it’s your turn.” I sighed. “Just watch out for the guy on the right, he’s a real gentleman.”

  I lifted my gaze to the table, but it was hard to see in the low light. “Which one?”

  “He’s the only one with a tie on. You can’t miss him.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I loaded the tray with the few drinks she’d already made.

  Once all the drinks were ready, I slipped into a cold mask of indifference. No matter what these guys did, said, touched, I had to keep it cool. I was out of here in a little over two weeks. I kept my hand steady and set the men’s drinks onto the table. Their eyes were too busy ogling the devil on the stage to notice me.

  Bow at the feet of what could be.

  His words crashed into me as I placed a gin and tonic in front of one of the men. Isn’t that what these guys were doing, bowing at the feet of some strange woman who was capable of wielding magic and promises she’d never ever keep?

  Is that what I was doing? I was a liar dancing in front of him in fake skin.

  “Hey, I remember you.” The voice wobbled and slurred, and when I turned my head to look at him, all the warmth in my body evaporated into the thick air.

  The man with the tie. The guy I was supposed to watch out for. He did know me, and he’d already defiled my flesh, my bones.

  I ignored him, set his drink in front of him, and moved to leave when he grabbed my waist. Bile stormed its way up my throat. “Don’t touch me,” I bit through clenched teeth sending the table of men into a fit of laughter.

  He removed his hands, and before I could escape his knowing gaze, he asked, “How much for a blow job this time?”