Chapter 23
A
forty-five minute steamy hot shower, where I shaved, conditioned, moisturized, scrubbed, and pampered myself, made me feel like a new woman. My hair was wild and smelled like peaches. My skin felt soft and there was no trace of bug spray or merkin anywhere on my body. I pulled on my favorite pajama bottoms and a threadbare wifebeater. I loved the shirt. I hadn’t been able to wear it much, because Jack was always in our apartment and the shirt was obscene. Rena called it my hoochie mama shirt. I reheated my unhealthy dinner in the antiquated microwave and I curled up on my lumpy bed for some trashy TV.
For a couple of hours I could pretend I wasn’t in Duluth, Minnesota, hunting for a mythical creature that I wasn’t even sure was mythical anymore. I found an alarming documentary about Amish teenagers getting wild and I knew all was right with my world . . . except someone was knocking on my door.
Shitmonkeys, I didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone at the moment. Particularly someone I’d been living with 24/7.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Boo,” came a sweet little voice from the other side of the door.
“Hey, Boo.” I smiled as I opened the door and welcomed her in. “What can I do for you?”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” I wished the TV had a pause button. Those hungover Amish teenagers were just about to walk into a grocery store for the first time in their lives. Crap. I turned off the disaster about to happen on the TV and waited for the real thing. If Boo had come to talk, something was up.
“I’m worried,” she said, sitting down on my bed.
“Uh-huh.” I sat down next to her. “You want a fry?”
“Yeah.” She took a bite. “These are gross.”
“I know,” I said, shoving a few in my mouth. “So what are you worried about?”
“About the show and Stan and Stuey. Something isn’t right.” She took a few more of the gross fries and ate them.
“If you dip them in catsup, they’re not as bad,” I said, offering her a packet.
“Thanks.”
“So what makes you uncomfortable?”
“I touched Stuey’s hand today . . . I don’t think he’s who he says he is.”
“Who the hell is he?” I asked. Now I felt all weird and off. The gross fries and chicken sandwich sat in my stomach like lead.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Boo said pensively. “I don’t see exacts. I get feelings and vibes from people. Sometimes I hear a message, but that doesn’t happen often.”
“So you think his name isn’t Stuey?”
“Not necessarily and that’s not even the point. I felt an angry fear and excitement in him. He’s waiting for something . . . to happen.”
“Well, hell . . . do you think he wants to kill Bigfoot?” I asked, doing an internal eye roll at myself. I could forget about trying not to believe anymore.
“That’s what I thought at first, but now I’m not so sure,” she murmured.
“Maybe you should tell this stuff to Kim and Hugh or Rich.” I grabbed a bottle of water and tried to wash the nervous dryness down my throat. I didn’t even believe in Boo’s magic hoodoo, but something about what she was saying felt right.
“I went by Hugh and Kim’s room and they, um . . . seemed kind of busy, so I didn’t even knock.” She blushed to the roots of her auburn hair and I prayed that my dinner would stay in my stomach.
“What about Rich?” I choked out. Bad evil images of Kim and Hugh getting it on made speaking and focusing difficult.
“I tried his door, but he wasn’t home.”
“That’s weird,” I said, doing some yoga breathing. I hoped that by centering myself I could bypass the inappropriate and unsavory porno going on in my brain.
“I thought so too. Maybe he’s asleep,” she said, lying back on my bed and getting comfortable. I realized I was going to miss the whole Amish debacle . . .
“I’ll call Aunt Moon-Unit and have her do a search on Stan and Stuey,” I said, tossing the rest of the fries in the trash.
“That’s a great idea,” she yawned.
“Boo, how old are you and Mariah?”
“I’m twenty-one and Mariah is twenty-three,” she said. “Mariah kind of raised me after our mom checked out.”
“Is your mom still around?”
“Don’t know and don’t care.”
It was the harshest thing I’d ever heard pass Boo’s lips. I knew there was a bad story there. I’d place a bet it was as ugly or uglier than mine . . .
“Sorry about that.”
“I’m not. Do you want to know why my sister sounds like a man?” She sat up and stared me down.
“Do you want to tell me?” I asked. My gut clenched; I was feeling a little sick about what she might say.
“My mom was a crackhead. A violent crackhead.” Boo’s voice was even, betraying no emotion. “She liked to beat on Mariah . . . on her face. She broke her nose so many times that her septum is so deviated and screwed up, she sounds like a man.”
I had nothing to say. My own understanding of being beaten by someone who’s supposed to love you came crashing down around me. My body began to shake violently and I hopped up off the bed. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, trying to bury my own memories.
“I told you because I knew you would understand.”
“What do you mean?” I asked more sharply than I’d intended.
“I’ve touched you, Kristy. I can tell things.”
I nodded and sat back down on the bed. I felt naked and exposed . . . and strangely free. I didn’t mind that she knew about my past; I was still a little unnerved about how she’d learned it, but I was starting to believe in things that I’d always scoffed at. “Why doesn’t Mariah get her nose fixed?” A plan was forming in my head.
“I’ve offered to pay for it. I almost have enough money, but she won’t let me.”
“She needs to do it herself,” I told Boo. “Let me think about this . . . I’ll come up with a way that won’t seem like charity to her.”
“You would do that?” she asked, her eyes shining.
“Well, duh,” I laughed. “Of course I would. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at.”
Boo hopped off my bed and threw herself at me. She hugged me so hard I saw stars. Damn, these sisters were strong. She froze and slowly raised her small hands to my face. She placed her palms on either side of my head and closed her eyes. She was totally freaking me out.
“Oh, Kristy.” She grinned. Her voice was breathy. “So many good and happy things for you . . . so many.”
“Would you like to be more specific?” I asked nervously. It was hard to deny her gift. She had read my past abuse like a book.
“Nope,” she giggled. “When I feel things like this, I never tell. It would be like spoiling Christmas.”
“You suck,” I laughed.
“Yep,” she agreed. “I’m going to take your trash out or else your room will reek of french fries.”
“Oh, okay.”
“It smells so good in here it would be awful to ruin the mood with rotting french fries.”
“Right,” I muttered, reminded she was still a little coo-coo.
“Thank you for listening,” she said. “I think you’re wonderful.”
“I think you are too.” I hugged her tight and locked the door behind her. The french fry removal was weird, but I was grateful. It would have been rude to wake up to that nasty smell in the morning.
After a quick call to Aunt Moon-Unit’s answering machine, I snuggled back into bed. I’d left her a detailed message about the discussion I’d had with Boo and asked her to run a background check on Stuey, Stan, and Heidi. I knew Boo only suspected the guys, but something wasn’t quite right with Heidi either.
I found a new
Housewives
that I’d never seen before and I was finally alone. I could wallow in the ludicrous problems of women with too much Botox in their faces and too much time on their hands . . . except someone was at my door. Again.
I was tempted to shout “Go away,” but I didn’t have it in me. As long as it wasn’t the old lesbos, I could handle it. They’d have a heyday with this shirt. The boob jokes would be endless. Although, if it were Kim and Hugh, I might have a difficult time keeping a straight face . . . or my dinner in my stomach.
“Coming,” I muttered, wondering if Paul Bunyan Lodge and Getaway Resort had soda machines anywhere. I needed caffeine if I was going to be hosting visitors all night.
Yanking the door open, I tripped over my stupid hiking boot and fell into two very muscular and familiar arms that smelled heavenly. “Shit,” I gasped and jumped back into my doorway like I had touched a raging inferno with my bare hands. I quickly slammed the door shut in the face belonging to the arms and dropped to the ground. My knees refused to hold me and my mind was racing like the final lap of the Indy 500.
What in the hell was he doing here and how did he know where to find me? Rena would never have given me up . . . Jack. That asshat Jack told him. I knew I never should have left my information on his machine. If only Rena wasn’t so technically challenged and knew how to erase messages on her phone, I wouldn’t have had to leave my location with Jack the fucktard.
What was I going to do? I knew it wasn’t exactly mature to slam the door in his face, but my other instinct had been horrifying . . . I wanted to jump him. I wanted to tackle him and play tonsil hockey. Shitshitshit, would he go away if I just sat there with my eyes closed and not making a sound?
A light knock at the door was my answer.
“Who is it?” I asked, hoping I was mistaken about his identity.
“Kristy, it’s Mitch,” he chuckled. The sound of his voice did very warm and inappropriate things to my insides.
“Um, Mitch, it’s really late and I have to go to bed, so if you could come back in about, um . . . two weeks or so, that would be better.” It was silent on the other side of the door. My heart sank at the thought he would leave so easily. What an asshole. I was right not to love him anymore if he would leave with a half-assed pathetic excuse like that.
“Are you still there?” I called through the door.
No answer.
Oh my God. I did it again. How could I be so stupid? I’d been wallowing in my own self-pity for days because I’d made him leave . . . and now I’d done it again. My body felt like it was on fire and not in a good way. My heart was beating like it was going to fly out of my chest and my eyes welled with tears. Shithats, was this what love felt like? Or was I having a stroke?
I stood up slowly with the help of the doorknob. If he was still on the other side of the door, I would know we were meant to be, but if he was gone . . . Son of a bitch, why didn’t the Paul Bunyan Crap Hole Lodge have peepholes? That had to be against some kind of safety code. It would be so much easier to just peep out and know what fate had in store for me. But noooo, I had to open the door and be devastated if he was gone. Of course, the longer I took to open the door, the more likely he would have left.
“Mitch, are you still there?”
“I am, Kristy.”
“Why are you here?” I asked. I pressed my forehead to the door, took a deep breath, and tried to slow my pounding heart.
“Because I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t believe you really want me to go away.”
“That’s kind of presumptuous of you,” I huffed, narrowing my eyes at the door.
There was a long silence. I wondered again if he’d left, but deep down I knew he was still there.
“Am I right?” he asked.
It was my turn to create a long silence.
It’s better to tell the truth than lie . . . Lying takes too much brain power. The simple truth is always easier to remember
. . . “Yes, you’re right.”
“Will you open the door?”
“Will you be offended if I tackle you?” I needed him to know the dangers.
“I’d be honored,” he laughed, sending little shock waves through me. I was in so much trouble.
I warily opened the door. How in the motherhumpin’ hell did I not remember how gorgeous he was? He literally took my breath away. Well-worn jeans with a fitted light blue T-shirt to match his eyes, and work boots—he made my mouth water. And the memory of what was underneath . . . help me, Jesus.
I was floating above myself . . . felt hot, felt cold, felt the warm salty tears fall from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. What was happening to me?
“Don’t cry, Goldilocks,” he said, gently wiping my tears away.
“I’m sorry. I just . . .”
“You just what?” he said, piercing me with those damn eyes. Wait a minute . . . one was blue and one was green. How in the hell did I not notice that before?
“What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, rubbing his eyes as if I meant he had something stuck on them.
“Look at me,” I said, moving close. They were both blue. I was losing it. Duluth was sucking my brain out. I could have sworn he had two different-colored eyes, but it must have been the light.
“So, are you going to invite me in?” He gave me a lopsided grin and I grabbed the door so I wouldn’t fall.
“Are you going to behave?” I asked, watching him closely.
“Only if you want me to . . . The choice is yours.”
I stepped back slowly, never taking my eyes from his face. “I’d like you to come in, Mitch.”
His grin stopped my heart. “I’d love to.”
And he did.
Chapter 24
T
he room grew very small all of a sudden and my choice of outfit seemed very bare. Mitch was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off my assets. Not that I took offense, but my assets, having a mind of their own, were letting him know how much they liked his admiration.
“So, Duluth is a neat little town,” I babbled, moving around the tiny space. My hands were fisted into balls at my sides. I didn’t trust them. “I haven’t gotten out much, but there seems to be plenty of karaoke and all-you-can-eat restaurants. The people here are friendly unless you serenade them with X-rated music . . . Well, actually only when their children are with them. Although, they might get pissed even without their kids . . . I don’t know. I haven’t tested that theory yet and . . .”
“Kristy,” Mitch laughed. “Relax.”
I backed myself up against the wall on the other side of the room, as far away as I could get in the tiny mustard yellow dump. “I can’t.”
“Can I speak?” he asked, sitting down on my bed and giving me my space.
I nodded. I was terrified that if I opened my mouth I would tell him to strip.
“I want you to know that I’m sorry. I screwed up by not telling you the entire story.” He paused and ran his hands through his hair.
My stomach plummeted to my toes. This was not going the way I wanted it to. He was supposed to express his undying love for me and tell me everything would be all right. Shitmonkeys.
“It’s okay.” I stared at the floor. “It was kind of you to come all the way to apologize, but I have a big day tomorrow and I have to get some sleep. So, um . . .”
“Shit, I’m screwing up again,” he moaned.
I glanced up and noticed his hair was standing up all over the place. Clearly he took out his anxiety on his head. He looked so lost, and even though my heart was breaking again, I giggled.
“My angst is funny?” He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
“Nope. Your hair.”
He stood up and checked himself out in the mirror. “You’re right,” he laughed. “Scary.”
This was getting harder with every passing moment. I needed him to leave. We were on two very different pages . . . “Mitch, it’s late and I . . .”
“Kristy, stop. Please let me finish.”
“Okay.” I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. I knew at the end of his “I’m sorry” speech I would dissolve into a puddle anyway. Breaking up twice just seemed so unfair, but I loved him enough to let him continue . . . even though it was killing me.
“I’m just gonna do this,” he muttered. He took a deep breath and let it rip. “I am crazy about you. You’re all I think about all day long. I can’t concentrate. I can’t sleep. I have never felt like this. Ever. I know I omitted some important things, but I was afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously . . . and I screwed up. God.” He sat back down on the bed and put his head in his hands. “I’m in love with you, Kristy,” he said through his fingers. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”
Oookay, this was much better. I kept my eyes trained on the nasty, yellowish carpet. I wanted him to suffer for at least thirty-two more seconds...
“Can you say something? Please?” he asked. I could feel his eyes on me. My inner-hooker, a term Rena had coined, wanted to yell “Let’s fuck,” but I was not controlled by my inner-hooker . . . at least not right at that moment. But in two minutes—it’d be anybody’s call.
I glanced up and got sucked into everything that was Mitch. His beauty, his kindness, his rockin’-hot bod, his bitable lips . . . and his love. How both of us could have fallen so quickly was a mystery to me, but in this magical moment I wasn’t questioning anything.
“Do you still have the same job?” I asked.
“I do,” he said so quietly I almost missed it.
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t?” he asked, covering the small amount of space between us.
“Nope.” I smiled, looking up at him. God, he was huge. “I’ve been miserable. I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to make any promises to each other that we can’t keep. I know this may not last and I’ll be heartbroken, but I just want to be happy . . . right now. Hell, I could get eaten by Bigfoot tomorrow or attacked by people who are pissed off about my friend Hugh’s profane concerts or . . . Oh my God, I’m babbling.”
“You are,” he laughed and pulled me to my feet, “but I have a remedy for that.”
“You do?” I whispered. His lips were so close to mine, I could taste him.
“I do.”
His lips touched mine and I felt like I was flying. Which was a good thing because I knew my legs were not going to hold me up. I heard bed springs creak and for the life of me, I couldn’t have told you where I was . . . because I didn’t care. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was alone with Mitch and he was mine.
His tongue teased the seam of my lips. I giggled and kept them closed tight so he’d have to work for it, but when his hand closed over my breast and pinched my nipple, I squealed and gave him exactly what he wanted.
“I can’t wait,” I gasped, clawing at his clothes.
“Me neither.” He yanked my shirt over my head and froze. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous.”
“And they’re real,” I laughed. He ran his hands over my breasts reverently, making little shocks jerk through my body and travel straight to my panties when he pinched my nipples.
“Very real,” he whispered before his wet mouth closed over one of my painfully hard nipples. He drew hard, almost to the point of pain, and it was making me see Jesus. My back arched and I’m fairly sure I screamed. Everything with Mitch was just a little too much, a little too far, a little too hot, a little too rough . . . and I loved it. With every electrified fiber in my body, I luurve it.
“You don’t wear a bra?” he asked as he expertly slid my pajama bottoms down before I noticed what he was doing.
“Not to bed, dorko.” I pushed him down, unbuttoned and pulled his jeans and gray boxer briefs off, and came face-to-face with the largest erect penis I’d ever seen in my life. I mean, I knew it was very nice from my over-the-shoulder glance when I was cuffed to the silverware drawer, but up close and personal, it was a monster. I didn’t realize I was motionless until I heard him laugh.
“Everything all right?” he asked. His eyes were hooded with desire, but they sparkled with amusement.
“Um, no . . . I just, um . . . you know. You’re freakin’ huge. I’m not sure that’s going to fit inside me.” I slapped my hand over my mouth and wanted to die. Talk about what not to say during foreplay . . .
“We’ll just have to make sure you’re very, very ready,” he chuckled, pulling my mostly naked body flush against his. Lifting me up with seemingly no effort, he laid me down on my back. The lumpy bed felt like a million-dollar mattress to me now. “God, I want you bad.”
“Me too,” I said in a voice I didn’t recognize. My inner-hooker had apparently gotten lodged in my throat.
Mitch hopped off the bed and dug through the pockets of his jeans, which I’d thrown across the room while in shock over his um, girth. “Oh shit,” he muttered. In all his glorious nakedness he dropped to the floor on all fours and started searching the carpet as if his life depended on it. As fine as the view of his spectacular man-butt was, his behavior was a tad alarming.
“Um, Mitch?”
“Yep?” he said, combing the floor.
“Do we have a problem?”
“Do you have any condoms?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Then we have a problem.”
I jumped off the bed in nothing but my purple thong and helped with the prophylactic search and rescue mission.
“Are you sure you had them?” I asked, looking under the bed.
“Positive,” he muttered, ransacking his jeans again. “Son of a bitch,” he moaned.
I glanced over and giggled. Even under duress, he was still sporting a massive hard-on. “Mitch?”
“Yes?” he answered, looking up at the ceiling for either divine intervention or condoms.
“I’m on the pill and I have a clean bill of health.”
His pulled his gaze slowly from the ceiling and zeroed in on me with white hot intensity. “I have a clean bill too.” He grinned like a wolf about to eat his prey. “In fact, I’ve never in my life had sex without a condom.”
“Um, neither have I,” I whispered, as my excitement took the express train to the stop between my legs.
I’m fairly sure he flew across the room. He scooped me up and tossed me back onto the bed. He stood there completely naked, looking every inch the Greek god that he was. He was the most exquisite man I’d ever seen; just looking at him made my body surge with heat.
“I cannot tell you what the thought of being inside of you with nothing to separate us is doing to my head right now.” His voice was rough with desire and need. I couldn’t say anything. I was too overwhelmed. “Take off your panties and open your legs. Now, Kristy.”
My bossy alpha man was back and I almost came at the sound of command in his voice. Damn if he didn’t know my buttons. I slowly slid my thong down my legs. His blue eyes held mine and I could barely breathe.
“Open for me, baby.”
I hesitated. All of a sudden I was shy.
“Do it, Kristy,” he whispered.
I did.
He ran his big hands down my inner thighs and stared at my most intimate places. “You are so beautiful.” He bent down and kissed me where I’d rarely been kissed.
“Oh, Mitch,” I gasped. “I don’t think . . .”
“You don’t think what?”
“I mean you don’t have to, um . . . well. I just don’t want you to think that . . .” I faded out and covered my heated face with my hands.
“Kristy, look at me,” he demanded. I peeked through my splayed fingers. “I love what I’m doing right now. I. Love. It.”
And I did too. I loved it into one of the most mind-shattering orgasms I’d ever had. For a brief moment I was worried I’d snapped his neck with my thighs . . .
While my body floated like water he slowly made his way back up. Kissing and tasting every inch of my skin. “I am so turned on right now I don’t know what to do,” he moaned into my ear and my body shuddered. I didn’t think I had anything left but his voice was as hot as his tongue. He bit into my earlobe and my body convulsed around him. His lips closed over mine—I could taste myself and it was wildly erotic. “I can’t wait anymore. I need to be in you . . . now.”
Answering with coherent English was an impossibility so I wrapped my legs around his waist. He took my hand and put it on his engorged cock. “Guide me into you, baby.” He was having a difficult time with speech. I couldn’t speak at all.
He was like thick steel covered in silk. So hard and so smooth at the same time. I was so in love with this man. As nervous as I was about his size, I was also turned on beyond reason. I led him to my opening and helped him enter me. He pushed the head of his shaft into me and I gasped. I’d never felt anything so amazing in my life.
“God, you’re so wet and tight,” he hissed, one hand grasping my ass and the other tangled in my wild hair. He forced me to look at him as he slid into me inch by inch.
“Ohhh,” I gasped. “Please . . . slow . . . Oh God,” I whispered. It felt so good, my body was on fire, but I was still unsure if I could handle all of him. My body had softened to accommodate him, but . . .
“You are so hot,” Mitch ground out through clenched teeth. “Nothing in my life has ever felt as good as you do.”
He was filling me beyond capacity. He rubbed my clit with his thumb as he slowly pushed deeper into me. I was at that insane place between pleasure and pain that turned me on like nothing else could. I was losing control and my body was sending him messages before it was quite ready to handle the consequences. My hips started to buck and my body was writhing beneath his. He took my movement as a sign that I was ready for him. I felt his body tense and I tried to speak. I really did . . . to tell him to wait, but my traitorous inner-hooker kept twisting and turning and my arms pulled him closer. Sounds were coming from somewhere deep inside me. I couldn’t stop him or myself. I didn’t want to. With one deep and forceful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
I screamed.
I was spinning off an abyss and loud explosions were going off inside of me. My body jerked in protest. I could literally feel him pressed against my womb. I was sure he had torn me apart. Just when I was going to beg him to stop . . . something happened. The pain evaporated, my body adjusted, and an orgasmic fire began to glow in my belly. I gripped him inside of me and little fissions of heat consumed me. He groaned and pushed even deeper.
“You’re mine, Kristy,” he whispered. He was triumphant. His eyes blazed a beautiful icy blue.
My body started to tingle and there was a roaring in my ears. What had begun as pain had turned into the most intense pleasure I’d ever experienced. He was moving in and out of me . . . I was physically stretched to my limit. I wanted . . . Oh God, I wanted more. I arched and slammed my pelvis into his, meeting each thrust with a force I didn’t know I was capable of. I was scared and excited and wildly out of control. I’d known it would be good, but this was . . . Oh. My. God. I was spiraling toward an orgasm that was going to kill me dead.
Just as I almost passed out with pleasure, I felt him stiffen on top of me. I felt his release and met it with my own. He had made me his and I had made him mine in the most intimate way possible.
“I love you,” I whispered, running my hands through his hair and kissing his swollen lips with my own. “I think I might be dead,” I giggled as I tried to push his dead weight off me.
He rolled off. Still breathing hard, he played with my hair. “Did you go to heaven or hell?”
“Heaven.” I snuggled close. “How long can you stay?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“For a couple of hours, but I’ll be back in two days.” He pulled me even closer and I breathed him in. “I want you to fall asleep in my arms,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave after you’re asleep.”