Throbbing Hearts (Hearts Series)

by Sabrina Lacey

  “It’s not going to happen for me. It’s fine. You can cum whenever you’re ready.”

  There’s something wrong with what’s happening and I can feel it, but guys are visual and this mirror image of us, my hands on her hips and traveling up to hold her breasts, her eyelids hooded and sultry – it’s not hard for me to pass through the gates. I give myself over to it; feel the surge of release, wishing she were feeling it with me.

  I pull out, and throw the condom away. She says, “I never want to see you again.”

  Shocked, I turn to her, unsure of why she’d say something so rude and even cruel. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you.” She walks out of the bathroom and goes into her room, climbing onto her bed and staring off.

  Slowly, I follow her, feeling horrible. Did I hurt her? Did I go too deep and hit her cervix or something? Did she feel like I took advantage of her? Staring at her, I replay the events and come up with the same answer over and over – she asked me to fuck her. She told me to fuck her – it wasn’t even just a request, it was an order. But still – I don’t want to have disrespected her in any way. That’s not what I’m about. I couldn’t live with myself.

  “Corinne… what’s going on? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  She laughs a tiny laugh. “Like you could ever hurt me.”

  “Well, did I just take advantage of you? I thought you asked me to…” I trail off, hoping for some answers, trying to be kind.

  She looks at me with obvious disdain. I’ve never seen a look this cold. “Please. Don’t you get it? I took advantage of you.”

  “I’m totally lost. What?”

  “Just leave. I used you to make a point. And now I’m done. Go.” She pulls the blankets over her body and stares off again.

  I have absolutely no clue what this chick’s problem is, but I’m over it. Anger rages in me as I put on my clothes. Again. “Fine. You used me. But you know how you just blew me?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I didn’t bathe today.”

  She smiles. “You think I don’t have taste buds? You’re hilarious.”

  My smirk falls. Like a schmuck, I back out of the room, grabbing my shoes. Checking to make sure I remembered my wallet this time, I go to leave. I hear her say something. She says it to herself, like I can’t hear it, but this apartment is the size of a Chihuahua’s kennel. “I don’t know what you saw in him, Squid. Throwing everything away over a guy like that?”

  I stand a moment, listening for more but nothing comes. I close the front door quietly and pull on my shoes outside in the hallway, thinking, now what the hell did she mean by that?

  Looking to my right, I freeze. Annie is there, holding onto her suitcase, with tears in her eyes. “Idiot,” she says, and turns and walks down the stairs.

  I stare after her. I feel like I should chase her down, and I don’t know why. When I get outside, she’s riding away in a cab. She looks through the window at me, her smudged blue eyes sad. With my hands at my sides, I watch, unsure of what is happening, but feeling like something is.

  A few minutes later, walking up Geary Street, I mull over the last twenty-four hours. Corinne cemented in me what I’ve already begun to believe; girls don’t respect us. They don’t care. They aren’t capable of love.

  Part of me wishes for the time when Sara and I were happy, just us together, when I knew what to expect and what was expected of me. But then I decide, this is life. It ain’t easy, but I can either mope around or feel sorry for myself or I can keep on trucking and make sure to build the wall around my heart thick and sure. I can’t let these women get to me as easily as they always do.

  A sign catches my attention for an Italian restaurant. I pause and stare at it, thinking of that girl, Annie. Leaving town and cutting her hair… she seems to be on a similar path I’m on… changing herself in big ways. Corinne said Annie ditched her last year of school to see Europe. I have a lot of respect for that. I guess that’s why I’m not making up funny nicknames for her anymore.

  A very affectionate couple leaves the restaurant holding hands, their bodies close to each other as they walk past me. I can’t help but smile because they look really happy. It’s around six o’clock, so this must have been an early dinner date. As they pass me, he says to her, “I promise I’m going to leave her. I’ll talk to her tonight.” She kisses him and I look down to see only one of them is wearing a wedding ring.

  Discouraged, I continue home. I could take a cab, but I need to think. A walk will do me good. I don’t know what’s going on with the world, but it seems the current state is disloyalty, self-serving decisions, and lack of principles. When did this happen? When did it become so easy to hurt people?

  This is why I don’t want love anymore. It’s not what it purports to be. I’m going to keep my life nice and easy.

  I will never let a woman get close to this heart again.

  16

  Annie

  Boobs: hiked up in a cute halter. Jeans: tight tight tight. Brows: furrowed. State of mind: stressed the fuck out. Because this is what San Francisco does to me.

  ________

  “How were the numbers last night, Annie?”

  A small snort escapes me as I pour Sterling Cabernet into a glass for Barbara, my resident bar fly. She’s not your typical bar fly – not all dirty and drunk, with her head hung on the counter. She looks and dresses like a wealthy fortune teller, and I’ve never seen her actually intoxicated since she first started coming in here on Day One of my grand opening three months ago. And not because she doesn’t try to get drunk. With the way she drinks, she could take Charles Bukowski to the floor – if he drank red wine and only red wine… and was still alive. As he is now, pretty much anyone can take him.

  “Not great, Barb. Not great.” I push my long strawberry blonde hair off my shoulder and frown.

  With a flourish of her wrist, she waves my worry away – or tries to. There is a lot to worry about. I’ve sunk everything into this place. “From the moment I saw the Help Wanted sign under all that… oh… what is it called?” Her hand swims circles through the air, searching.

  I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on the bar, needing a better clue. “What is what called?”

  “In front of the building during renovations, what was that? All the ugly metal, wood planks…”

  “Scaffolding?” I offer, glancing over to Manny as he gathers abandoned lipstick-stained glasses from booths to bring them back for a good cleaning. He’s got a bounce in his step and it makes me feel a little better. “It wasn’t up long. All they had to do was paint the place.”

  I only managed bars in Italy, never owned them. This is my first solo mission where I’m in charge, the bill’s on me – as are the paychecks – and if the ship sinks, I go down with it. I guess I could handle that, but my employees? I would feel awful if I couldn’t pay them and had to let them go.

  I’ve put everything into the place, almost all the money I saved while I was living with Christiano, but Le Barré hasn’t found its footing yet. I picked a great location on Mission Street, but I’m lost for ideas on how to spread the word with no money. I need to keep what I have to make sure I can pay my rent and you know, eat.

  Barb’s bangle bracelets rattle a victorious clatter as she slaps the bar. “That’s it! Scaffolding! Every since I saw all that mess, I had a good feeling. Now don’t look so skeptical. I’m very intuitive.” She taps the side of her head with a very long red nail, and leans in to half-whisper, “I bless it, too.”

  I chuckle. “Oh yeah?”

  “I cover it in white light every time I walk by, like this!” Her hands go out wide to illustrate. She tilts her head away, looking at me from the corners of her twinkling eyes. “And I walk by every morning on my way to the park.”

  “That’s a lot of white light.” I’m amused, but I wish she had the power she thinks she has. I top off her glass with an extra pour anyway. Leaning in, I whisper,
“Looks like I owe you. This one’s on me.”

  Clapping her hands together with glee, she squeals as much as a deep voice can. “What a dear you are!”

  “That’s me. I’m a real peach.” I wink and walk off to help other customers, looking around my baby, Le Barré. Even though I left my Goth days behind me long ago, I still lean toward black décor, so I opted for that instead of the usual red that most bars use.

  Le Barré is everything you’d expect from a small lounge that fits seventy-five at capacity. There are a handful of booths around the far perimeter, tall tables in the middle surrounded by bar stools, and a large supply of booze behind me on glass shelves. I need to get some paintings or photographs on the walls, but I haven’t had the cash to do it. I keep the lighting extra dark in hopes that people won’t notice.

  I love all three members of staff. Taryn’s a cutie pie with a great smile and a bubbly attitude. Laura is my no-nonsense chick; you mess with Laura and you are in trouble. And then there’s Manny who works every night so that he can send money back to his family in Mexico. He’s the one who tears at my heartstrings the most. I wish so much that the tips will start pouring in, more for him than for me. To help us all, I guess.

  I had one more girl, but I had to fire her for skimming from the till. When I caught her, she cried and told me she was broke.

  “I hear ya. Business has been slow. Go get a better paying job where you don’t have to steal to survive.” Then I shut the door behind her weeping eyes, and didn’t feel the least bit badly. I don’t do well with betrayal.

  When the others asked me what happened to her, I told them. Then I offered them an out. “It’s been three months and I know you probably can’t survive in this city on fifty bucks a night in tips. If you need to quit, I understand. Just don’t steal from me, because then you’re stealing from each other, too, and I won’t have it.”

  Laura shrugged. “My husband pays the bills. I’m just here to get out of the house.” I knew this wasn’t completely true – they weren’t well off by any means – but I sure appreciated it.

  As usual, Taryn grinned, her smile brightening up an otherwise difficult conversation. “Hell, I’m in college still, Annie. My parents are footing the bill. I’m all yours. I’m here to meet men!” Then she hugged me.

  It was Manny who made me tear up. He shook his head and walked away saying simply, “I’m not leaving.” I don’t know why. I’m guessing it’s the same part of him that makes him send money home. What I did to earn his loyalty, I don’t know, but I’ll take it. I can use all the support I can get, with my nerves being this on edge and so much on the line.

  One night, when we had only three people come in for an entire night, I’d cried in front of Taryn. Helpless, she stood by. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Yeah? How???!! Why did I come back to this city? I had a great boyfriend. I lived in a pretty home. What am I doing here?” I sobbed, shaking my head like a lost child, and staring off into crazy-ville.

  Taryn sat down, and got quiet. “Why did you come back, Annie?”

  Feeling defeated and needing someone to talk to, I spilled my guts to her. “When Christiano would tell me he loved me, I’d say it back… but my heart ached. No, it didn’t just ache - it throbbed with doubt. I can’t do that to him. If I’m going to love, it’s going to be with my whole heart, not half.” I sniffled and pushed away a tear, looking into her sweet face. “Taryn, I gave that other half of my heart away to a boy who didn’t know I existed. I came back to see him… can you believe how stupid that is? I came all the way back to this stupid city to see if I’ve been holding onto a fantasy, or if he really is the one. I must be out of my mind, but I still can’t get him out of my head!”

  She laid her hands in her lap and smiled. “That’s very romantic.”

  My eyes went wide, completely incredulous. “It’s fucking painful, Taryn!”

  She laughed and nodded. “That too.”

  The night I told Christiano I wanted to leave Italy and go back home to the United States, it was after a terrible fight. “Why don’t you just go be with Sophia! She speaks your language, and I’m sure in more ways than one!” I’d yelled.

  He’d held his hands to his head, walking away from me, overcome by frustration. Spinning around, he fumed. “It’s easier to talk to her, bella. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk to her more than you – it just flows! I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

  He and Sophia had been at it again during our dinner party, laughing and speaking only in Italian, sitting close to one another where she’d touch his arm too often and lean in too close. It drove me nuts to watch them, and he always called me crazy or too sensitive when I pointed it out. This wasn’t the first time, and I hate it when a guy calls you crazy for listening to your instincts.

  “Of course it upsets me! I can barely speak your language and it leaves me out. Which is pretty much what I think she means to do!” I sat on the bed and pulled my legs up against me, hooking my arms around them. I needed a hug more than anything, even if I had to give it to myself. “She wants you, Christiano. It’s so obvious to everyone but you! Diego even pointed it out.”

  He yelled at the top of his lungs, fed up. “Diego lies, Annie!” Then as he saw my reaction, he quieted and added, with more control, “He loves to start trouble. He has since we were children.”

  A tear fell onto my cheek then, and I said it, the thing I’d been wanting to say for months. “I want to go home.”

  He looked at me, his dark, deep brown eyes searching me. “To visit your parents?” I stared at him, knowing from the pained, hopeful look in his eyes that he knew I didn’t mean to visit.

  I didn’t meet his eyes as I confessed, “I want to go back to San Francisco.” It was little more than a whisper, but I’d finally said it.

  Confusion twisted his face. He walked and kneeled in front of me with his hands on either side of my feet on the bed. “But why? You said you hated it there.”

  It was half true. I shook my head. “I loved the city. I just hated me in it.” I searched myself in hopes of finding a way to say this so that he could understand. He’d been so good to me. And while we had our fights, we’d spent four and a half good years together. I’d grown up with him. He’d loved me through the changes and here I was, wanting to leave. I felt like I needed to fly with my own wings. And there was something else, too. Someone else, who had always haunted me. Someone who I could barely admit to myself I wanted to see, much less tell Christiano. I wanted to see Brendan.

  “I need to prove something to myself,” I whispered.

  Christiano rose and kissed me. “You have nothing to prove to anyone, bella.” I loved it when he called beautiful, but hearing it then hurt.

  “I do. I’m so sorry, but I do.” I knew it was stupid that I wanted to see Brendan, when he didn’t even know I existed. But I couldn’t help it; I had to know if this love I still held was real. The tears flowed freely then and I slid my arms around Christiano’s neck. He lifted me off the bed and we kissed all the way out of the house until we were in the garden behind our home.

  He set me down and bade me to look around us, his hands still holding tight around my lower back, hands resting comfortably on my ass, caressing it. “Look at this bella, can you leave this?” I looked around at all the flowers and foliage that surrounded us, the hammock set between two trees, the light of a full moon illuminating the beauty. I shook my head and looked up at him. “Can you leave me?” he asked.

  “Oh, you’re making this so difficult! I wish I could explain it in a way that you could understand…” I whispered as he came in for another kiss. His golden-colored fingers pulled up my dress, making my heart quicken. I kissed him back and closed my eyes, allowing him in and wondering if he was right – if I should stay. He touched the soft place of my inner thigh and I trembled under his touch. He slid his fingers under the delicate satin of my panties, traveled into the folds of me and stroked me gently. Melting into each other, we kis
sed, standing in the middle of our garden.

  He bent in front of me and lifted my dress, pulled my panties down and waited for me to step out of them, my hands on his shoulders. He kissed the soft tuft of hair and ran his fingers around the sensitive skin there. Goosebumps spread all over me and I felt the wetness and excitement building in my pussy, aching for his tongue. He leaned in and kissed me once, then looked up, his dark eyes filled with pain. He kissed me again, just the outside, brushing his lips softly around me. He then kissed my belly softly, making the desire build in suspense.

  I pushed myself toward him, asking for it. He held out his tongue and waited. I leaned in closer until I was touching it. He waited with it out, not moving, so still. I pushed forward more until I pressed him into my folds. Then he moved, licking me. Soft little licks that teased me and made me even more wet. He moaned as he tasted me. His hands slid up my legs and held onto my ass, pulling me to him, controlling me. I weaved my fingers into his soft hair, opened my legs to give him access, loving every touch of his tongue. Never wanting to leave. Hurting because I knew I had to leave. I had to.

  He rose and watched me unbutton his pants, unzip and remove them, sliding them down his beautiful, strong legs. I pulled his shirt over his head and kissed his chest, spending a sweet moment kissing his nipples, running my fingers down his rib cage, over his stomach and down to his cock where I held it firmly in my hands, felt the blood pulsing into it. He pulled off my dress, my long soft hair falling onto my shoulders as the fabric left me to be tossed on the ground. He undid my bra and slowly removed it, releasing my breasts for him to make love to, kissing them tenderly as his hands lifted them to his moist lips. I traced the lines of his shoulders thinking soon I won’t be able to do this anymore.

  He picked me up. My legs went around him. With his hand, he helped slide his cock in, so full and hard. Our bodies moved together, pushing in and out and driving us upward to the place we both longed for. His lips found mine again and our tongues touched, sending tingles throughout us. I held onto him tight, riding him in the moonlight, kissing him like it was the last time. He must have felt it, too, because this time was different than any other. It was desperate and pained, pleasure seeming just out of reach for both of us. We strained for it, our bodies reaching for each other, knowing that soon we would be so many miles apart. I could tell by the way he kissed me that he knew he’d lost me. And I kissed him harder to try to tell him how much I really cared.