Chapter 13

 warning, sugar rush to follow

 

Just tonight I will stay
And we'll throw it all away
When the light hits your eyes
It's telling me I'm right
And if I, I am through
Then it's all because of you
Just tonight

Here I am and I can't seem to see straight
But I'm too numb to feel right now
Here I am watching the clock that's ticking away my time
I'm too numb to feel right now

(lyrics from ‘Just Tonight’ by the Pretty Reckless)

Chelsea leaned against the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching Mike sleep. A fine line of drool hung from the corner of his mouth, which was turned up in a satisfied smile. A blow job in the cramped back seat of his Caddy had been interrupted by Shannon dragging Mike’s friend Nick behind her to the car and insisting that they go ‘somewhere else’. Of course they’d made up for it by the time they’d got back to his place. Her jaw ached a little but afterward Mike had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, curled around his pillow and was currently looking entirely contented and somehow, that made it worth it.

For herself, she couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t even tried. 

She wasn’t supposed to be here. 

What she’d wanted was some space and some time to build a wall up around her heart, dig a moat and put some battlements in place before Mike breached every last one of her defences. But right at that moment, as he made a contented noise in his sleep and unconsciously moved closer to her, she knew she hadn’t lost the war but she was losing the battle. 

So much for her independence. 

She knew now that was what her father had hoped when he’d asked her to come to D.C., though at the time he’d made it sound as though it was only for his benefit and not hers. Still, here she was squandering the tiniest measure of autonomy she’d gained, seemingly ready to hand herself over to a man she hardly knew. 

Mike was worming his way into her heart, a truth she knew as her hand hovered over his sleeping form as she fought the urge to run her fingers through his thick, unruly hair. It seemed like the blink of an eye since that night in D.C. when she’d seen his shy, self depreciating smile. It had been like the flash of a match being lit and nothing like the slow burn, the long, winding trail of gunpowder that Jimmy had used to lead her to his heart. 

Jimmy had been as patient with her as he had with any skittish filly. His easy smile and affection had been like sugar cubes, doled out in careful, small measures. He’d taken his time wooing her, just as if he’d been breaking a young horse to a saddle. One day she’d been all legs and teeth and wild as a feral colt and the next she’d followed Jimmy around like a well domesticated young mare. 

He’d been her anchor in her storm when her mother had died. Had it not been for him, the horses wouldn’t have been fed and the ranch would have fallen apart around them. She’d made him her whole world after her mother’s death, to the detriment of more than one friendship and she’d probably missed out on activities usually enjoyed by teenage girls like sleepovers, dances and dating. But she’d never questioned it, even once, until she’d seen that shy, self depreciating smile whose shadow was still on Mike’s lips now as she stroked his cheek with her fingertips. 

But was it fair to give her heart to this man she hardly knew, she wondered as she watched him sleeping so soundlessly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, beside her. It certainly wasn’t fair to withhold it from him; she knew that much after tonight. 

Sliding from the bed, she went to his chest of drawers and slowly, as silently as she could, opened each until she found a pile of colourful boxers with seasonal and other amusing themes on them. She picked one pair, covered in cupids and hearts that looked to be several sizes too small for the intended wearer. She wondered if they’d been a gift, maybe from another woman who didn’t reckon on the thick, muscular thighs and massive skater’s haunches. She slid them on and then she picked one of his t-shirts, a plain gray one with a small Caps logo on the sleeves and pulled it over her head. 

Padding barefoot down the darkened hallway, she glanced into one of the guest rooms where her friend was sprawled, face down, across the bed, barely covered by a thin sheet, alone. So Mike’s Swedish friend had bailed. Shannon would be pissed in the morning but Chelsea didn’t see any need to wake her now. Any decision she made, she’d have to make on her own. In the kitchen she took down a tall glass and filled it with cold water from a jug in the fridge. 

“I have trouble sleeping in a new bed.” Chelsea froze, the glass tipped to her lips. “We sleep in hotels all the time. I should be used to it by now.” She turned and found the dough faced blonde Shannon had been playing tonsil hockey with in the back seat of Mike’s Cadillac. “He likes you...Mike,” his Swedish teammate added in his quiet lisp, his attention turned back to the toast on the plate in front of him.

“And I like him,” she responded, staring down into the empty sink. Why did admitting something so simple make her palms sweat, she wondered as put the glass down on the counter and wiped her hands down her thighs. 

“No, I mean he’s sweet on you,” Nick prompted. Chelsea glanced sideways at him. “Brooks is one of his best friends. I’ve never even seen the two of them have one cross word and Mike was going to fight him over you...that’s something.” He picked up the piece of toast and looked at her over it as he lifted it to his mouth and then, as if the question had just come to his mind, he put the piece of toast back down on the plate. “He says you don’t want a relationship with him. Is that right?” 

Chelsea took her glass over to the table, sat down across from the young Swede and reached over to snag a piece of toast. She chewed on what she had thought was going to be just buttered toast. It turned out to be cinnamon and sugar. She eyed the thoughtful looking young man across the table, trying to decide if she could trust him, especially considering that she hadn’t decided if she could trust Mike yet. 

“I’ll tell you something,” Nick began again, as if he’d decided she wasn’t going to answer him, “Mike and I...we are good friends. I know him, I think, very well. I wouldn’t be happy if he got hurt.” Chelsea lifted what was left of the piece of toast she was holding and tried to hide the sudden grin that broke out on her face. She could easily imagine any of her friends, especially Shannon and Mandy, giving the exact same speech to Mike, albeit with several colourful examples of how they’d go about slowly dismembering him. 

“I wish I could promise I won’t do that,” Chelsea sighed, taking another bite of the sweetened toast and chewing thoughtfully before continuing, “but I seem to be doing a lot of that kind of thing lately.” Nicky just looked at her for a long moment and then nodded his head. 

“At least you’re honest,” he sighed, but didn’t look happy about her answer. He pushed the last piece of toast around on his plate. Chelsea watched it, her stomach rumbling. She couldn’t remember the last thing she’d had to eat. 

“He knows I’m just getting out of something. This was...he was supposed to just be a...a...,” she grimaced as she tried to think of how she could explain what it was she was trying to say. 

“Sex with no strings,” the Swede smiled, just a little bit, and raised an eyebrow. Chelsea shrugged, silently agreeing. She wouldn’t have been quite that blunt about it but his explanation worked. Nicky nodded and then pushed the plate across the table towards her. “But now...?” he prompted as she took a bite of the last piece of cinnamon toast.

“But now I like him, more than I wanted to,” she admitted with a sigh. “And I broke off my engagement...not just for him but...I think he thinks maybe that I did.” Nicky got up and moved towards the toaster. Her stomach thanked him. 

“So what will you do?” Nicky asked. Chelsea turned in her chair and looked up at him. It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. 

“Do?” she asked. He dropped two pieces of toast into the toaster and then walked over to the fridge where he pulled out a tub of margarine, put it on the counter and then turned and leaned on the counter, crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at her. 

“He likes you, a lot. So, what will you do?” 

 ________________________________________________________

Mike woke sometime deep in the night, when the house felt still, as if time had slowed down to a crawl. He felt cool, not cold, but there was definitely a breeze blowing across his skin. Opening one eye he noted that the window had been thrown open and the diaphanous drapes were floating on the cool night air like the grasping hands of spectral entities. ‘Chels must have opened the window’ he thought as he watched their gentle rise and fall. 

Rolling over, he reached for her but where he’d expected to find warm, smooth skin his hands only slid across the cool fabric of the fitted sheet. She wasn’t there and by the temperature of the sheet beneath his hand, hadn’t been for quite some time. 

Mike squeezed his eyes shut and cursed. He’d probably run her off by coming on too strong. Silently berating himself he reached for his phone but as soon as his fingers closed around it he realized he didn’t know what he was going to say. If she’d left with her friend  it was unlikely she’d come back, even if he asked, and worse, if she’d called that cowboy of hers’ there was no way in hell she was coming back, probably ever. 

Letting go of his phone, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He sucked at this. He wasn’t cut out for relationships. Ovie was right. He should stick to one night stands, preferably at the girls place she he could be the one making the midnight dash for freedom. 

“Taking up the whole bed now?” Mike’s head swivelled to face the door of his en-suite to see her leaning there, one of those cheap toothbrushes you get at the dentist in her hand. 

“I...I thought you’d left.” He knew he sounded eager and he could imagine the keener expression he had to be wearing as he looked at her. Not that he could help it. Her legs looked amazing in those boxers. He thought he liked them better than any frilly thong. 

“In the middle of the night?” She turned and went back into the bathroom. He heard the sound of water running and listened to the normal everyday sound of her brushing her teeth and tried to remember if any woman he’d brought to this house, or his place in D.C. had ever done that. He doubted it. 

As she came back to the bed he pulled the sheet back and made room for her. She crawled across the bed and reached out to run her fingertips over the tat on his shoulder. He felt goose-bumps chase her touch as she followed the dark lines. 

“I love you.” The words practically jumped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. ‘You’ve done it now’ he thought as her gaze remained riveted to his shoulder. He froze, waiting for her to shoot him down but instead, very slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his, shyly, through her eyelashes.

“I’m falling for you too,” she told him quietly. He felt his heart beat, for what seemed like the first time in days. “I just need a little...time,” she added. He felt like one of those dogs that hop around your feet and bark for attention, their tails wagging enthusiastically. He wanted to grab her and kiss her all over. It took all of his training, all of the years of learning to outwait his opponent, forcing them to make the first move, to stop himself from grabbing her like a present on Christmas morning and ripping her clothes off. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said that anyone before...except maybe my mom,” he admitted as he reached over to touch her cheek, to draw her lips to his. 

“Then I’ll cherish hearing it even more,” she whispered and then let him kiss her. 

How many girls...women had he kissed? He couldn’t remember, had probably lost count by the time he was eighteen. Now, as he kissed her, it felt like he’d never kissed a girl before. He felt awkward and his hand shook as he cupped her cheek. His heart raced like it had when he was thirteen kissing Annie Baker on the back seat of the school bus. He felt her fingers splay on his chest on the spot over his heart and wondered if she could feel it. 

He kissed her onto her back and felt her body fit neatly under his. He palmed her breast through the soft cotton of the t-shirt and wanted to ask how it could be that everything about her could be so perfect. ‘You’re going soft in the head you pussy’ he told himself as he kissed his way down her neck, ‘you’ll be writing fucking poetry next’ he added silently as his other hand slid up her thigh. 

She gasped as his fingers slid under the material of the boxer shorts and in between her velveteen pussy lips. He found that little bundle of nerve endings, cartilage and soft pink skin and rolled it between his fingers until she groaned. He rubbed it gently as he mouthed her nipple through the t-shirt and felt her dig her fingers into his hair. Her warm, slippery juices began to flow and he dipped his fingers into her entrance and drew them out again, lubricating her clit as he made slow, gentle circles around it. 

She’d pulled her knees up and now, as he nipped and tugged at her nipple through the cotton t-shirt, she humped his hand, trying to get him to slide his fingers back down. His red haired minx liked to fuck and he wanted, very badly, to give her what she wanted but first he wanted her to give up the upper hand for once.

“Do you want it? Do you want my dick in your pussy?” he asked, using one hand to push her t-shirt up while the other continued to play slip and slide in her honey pot. 

“Yessss,” she hissed, her hips arching off of the mattress as he slid two fingers up inside of her. 

“Then you have to come for me. I want you all slippery and hot when I fuck you,” he told her as he lowered his mouth towards her breasts. He blew across one of her blush pink nipples and watched it tighten before he covered it with his mouth. He sucked that hard little nub into his mouth and listened to her whimper as he slid his fingers out of her tight little cunt and finger painted her clit with her own juices. His balls were aching. He hoped she was close. 

“Oh, oh fuck...harrrdderrr, yessss!” He rubbed her clit hard, harder than he thought would feel good but she lifted her hips even higher and let out a long, high pitched squeal and then collapsed back onto the bed, her thighs quivering. He brushed curls that were the colour of autumn leaves off of her cheeks and gazed down at her. Her skin was glowing. He didn’t think there was anything on earth as beautiful as this woman right this minute. 

“Don’t just stare at me,” she muttered, her eyes still closed. “You promised, now fuck me.” 

“No,” he replied quietly, pressing his lips to each of her closed eyelids in turn and then gently capturing her mouth with his. “I’m not going to fuck you.” Her eyes snapped open and her top lip curled but when she opened her mouth to protest, he only kissed her again as he gently tugged the boxers down until she could kick them off. “I’m going to make love to my girlfriend,” he whispered against her cheek, not wanting to look into her gaze as he said it. He felt his cheeks get pink. ‘Why am I embarrassed about that?’ he wondered as he moved his lips to her other breast and rolled his tongue around her nipple. It felt right to say but the words tasted strange on his tongue. Mike eased his way between her thighs and when he looked down at her, tears glimmered in her green eyes. “What...what’s this about?” he asked, reaching down to cradle her face in both of his hands. 

“It’s just...it’s so much Mike,” she sniffed, turning her face away and trying to hide in his hand. He kissed her cheek and the corner of her eye and tasted salt on his tongue. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked and she immediately shook her head. 

“No, no don’t stop,” she whispered against his hand and then pressed her lips to his palm. Mike watched her face as he slid slowly inside of her. He watched first as her eyes squeezed shut, then as her pretty mouth went slack. “Ohhhhh gaaawwwdddd,” she sighed, her lips slipping over his thumb as he buried himself to the hilt in her tight, warm embrace. Her arms slid around his neck and he felt her drag her heels up the back of his thighs as he rocked into her. 

“Damn baby, you feel so fucking good,” he whispered to her, still cradling her face, his lips brushing her cheek, the corner of her jaw. “So hot and wet and tight. God I love being inside you,” he told her, his lips brushing against the curve of her ear where a tiny diamond blinked in the dark. He rolled his hips and listened for her sharp intake of breath. “Is it good baby?” he asked and she nodded, finally turning to face him, real silvery tears sliding down her cheeks. 

“So good,” she whispered and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. ‘So fucked’ he told himself as he lowered his lips over hers. ‘You are so fucking fucked’ he added as his tongue wrapped itself around hers.

“I love you Chels,” he whispered against her lips as she sighed, her head tipping back, offering the long, pale line of her throat. He kissed his way down from the soft, thin skin just below her jaw to the hard ridge of her collarbone as their bodies slowly rocked together. 

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice going up and becoming a soft, strangled cry as her entire body began to shake beneath his. He buried his face in her neck and hid his own tears as he let go and gave her everything he had, body and soul.