Torn - Part Three (The Torn Series) (4 page)

“Wider,” he breathed, and I set my feet further apart, my knees weak with anticipation.
Finally, finally.
He probed my sex with the head of his erection. I briefly wished that I could see him - I loved looking into his eyes when he was all turned on and intense, as he undoubtedly was just then. Though simply feeling him was more than enough. As he slid himself inside me, I could feel every delicious and familiar inch. I held my breath as he rooted deep - and finally released my wrists.

He groaned, "Shit, Riley. I missed you so goddamn much." One hand held my hips still; the other found a breast and kneaded the soft flesh. It felt so incredible I think I would have forgiven him any sin at all. Everything that had happened was nothing more than a distant memory.

“We should never stop doing this again,” I groaned.

He pulled back and surged inside me once, hard, making me gasp and bringing on a fresh flood of arousal. "Never?"

"Please," I said. It took a moment to regain my voice. He withdrew and tortured me with shallow thrusts. “Don’t stop.”

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t
you
stop.” He forward hard, filling me, and I saw stars. Then again, and again, building my pleasure once more.

I gasped and cried out between my words. "I can’t. I couldn’t. I’m sorry." I didn’t even know what I was saying.

"Riley," he breathed. He took up a faster pace as he pinched and tugged my nipples, one and then the other, driving me wild. I felt like all my nerves were on fire; I pushed back against him and lifted onto my toes.

Without pausing, he released his bruising grip on my hip and reached around my waist. I jumped when his finger slicked across my clit. He stroked the sensitive bud with a light touch; it wasn’t enough, and it was too much, in combination with all the other sensations pulsing and throbbing through me like a tribal drumbeat, accelerating towards my inevitable climax.

"Come for me, baby," he growled.

Earthquakes.
My orgasm sent rumbling pulses of pleasure burning and rumbling through my limbs. My sex clenched around his organ still buried deep inside me over and over, making him groan until he hurriedly withdrew. I cried out at the loss, though I still rippled with waves of bliss.
I'm going to fall
. But Mallet was there, sweeping me off my feet and laying me out on my back on the bed.

"Oh, God," I groaned, covering my eyes. I must have looked and sounded like a woman possessed.

"Don't," he said, pushing my arm down, "You haven’t been shy before. Don’t start now."

I wasn’t shy, I was embarrassed. As my mind slowly cleared, the weight of what was happening began to descend. This didn’t feel like a last hurrah of break-up sex, so were we making up? Shouldn’t we have talked about it first?

When I opened my eyes I found him hovering above me, his eyes creased with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. Who was I kidding, I didn’t want to think and I didn’t want to talk. I pulled him down and kissed him. He groaned and shuddered above me, and it lit me afire all over again.

“I'm going to make you come again,” he said, then kissed my forehead. I had no doubt. “You feel so fucking good.”
His lips found mine once more and attacked; his tongue invaded my mouth and slid against mine, slowly, as his hips rocked against me.

It was too much. His hunger and his passion were overwhelming. Yet even as I whined beneath his assault, my free hand squeezed between us. I found his erection, hot and hard and still slick with my wetness, and guided it to my swollen folds.

He filled me so perfectly I wanted to weep.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned against my mouth, echoing what I felt.

I locked my ankles around his waist. The angle let him sink even deeper. "Take me, Mal. I’m yours." God help me, I meant it.

My words set him ablaze. He pounded into me with shocking force, grinding himself against my clit each time he sank deep. The room filled with the sounds of flesh on flesh, his grunts, my cries.

"Come with me," he grated as he picked up speed. He lifted his head to look down into my eyes. "Come with me."

I could only nod, tilting my hips higher and rocking with his thrusts. It took only a few strokes more to send me spiraling into another orgasm, even more intense than the first. My mouth fell open but I couldn't make a sound - I could only stare up into his darkened gaze as my body quaked and trembled.

I felt him withdraw and spill himself on my thigh. Sated, exhausted, I relaxed in his arms as he rolled to the side.

“Good conversation,” I teased, “I’m glad you stopped by.”

His chest shook with his laughter. “It wasn’t part of the plan. I did just want to talk.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes. “We can still talk later. Whenever. Or never. Who cares. Let’s just keep doing this.” He chuckled again and stroked my hair.

○●○●○●○●○

I must have dozed off in a blink, because when I opened my eyes again his side of the bed was empty. I found him putting his boots on in the living room. My heart sank. “Leaving already?”

His expression was pained. “You have work.”

“I have a little time. I thought you wanted to talk.” This wasn’t right. He was the one who’d hurt me this time. I should be the one kicking him out, rejecting him, not the other way around.
And even that isn’t what I want.

“I do. I did.” He paused mid-lace. “I don’t want to hurt you again, Riley. And that’s what’s going to happen.”

Is he seriously doing this right now?
“You don’t want to hurt me so you come over here and fuck me and leave immediately? How exactly does that work, Mallet?”

He jerked as if struck. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“This isn’t over,” I said. I retrieved his other shoe and practically threw it at him. “You go on and run for now but this isn’t over. You still want to be with me, and we’re going to talk about it.”

“And what do you want, Riley?” he asked, finally looking at me. He gestured at the ugly bruise on his face. “I can’t even set things right with my best friend. I’m a fuckup. A total, irreparable fuckup. Is that the sort of guy you want to be with?”

I knew the words were ridiculous before they escaped my mouth. “I don’t want you to flee, I want to be the one to tell you to get the hell out!” His lips quirked as he held back a grin and I let an embarrassed laugh leak out. “Stupid, I know.”

“It’s just semantics.” He finished tying his shoes and stood. “Kick me out, then.”

“No.” I stepped closer and touched his arm, lightly, just tracing his skin. “I can’t.”

“It’ll feel good,” he said. He cupped my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. “Try it.” His lips brushed across mine, no more than a breath of contact. He repeated, “Try it.”

“Don’t go.”

“Baby, I’m no good for you.” That may have been true.
He is a liar, don’t forget that,
I told myself. I stiffened at the thought. But was just one lie enough to label him a liar? We hadn’t even really been “dating.” We hadn’t agreed to be exclusive. Even though he’d lied it didn’t even count as cheating.
Shit.
There was no easy answer.

He took my silence as the opportunity to step back. “See you around, Riley.”

This time, I let him leave.

The fact that he was still at odds with Surly explained why he was so down on himself, why he was so eager to get himself away from me. But I knew he’d be back. Or I’d go to him, first. We just couldn’t help it. This push and pull was good for no one, we had to decide on something, and soon, even if it meant severing contact completely.

CHAPTER 4

I avoided thinking about it for as long as I could that night the only way I knew how - by throwing myself into work and taking advantage of the benefits of being behind the bar. I could see the concern on Shawn's face but I wasn't ready to talk yet.

I was ready, however, to accept every drink my customers wanted to buy for me.

It started with the shot train. If Martin had been on shift instead of Shawn, he would have put an end to it. If the manager hadn't gone home early with a cold, we never would have attempted it. But Shawn and I considered ourselves partying experts and when a rowdy bachelor party stopped in on their bar crawl, well, it was a perfect storm.

"Shots!" The groom announced, "For you two, too! Bartender's choice!" That meant mixing up our namesake - we lined up seven pickleback shots down the bar. Shawn got us started with a countdown and, one person after the other, we downed a shot of whiskey and pickle juice.

One lone shot wasn't enough to do me in. But I'd already been sipping a beer since the manager left, and that was only the first train of the night. We did another with that group of people. They left soon after, but another party in the bar wanted to do a train of their own.

"You better slow up, Riley, you know you can't keep up with me," Shawn teased.

"I can't if I plan on finishing my shift but just wait until we lock the doors. I'll catch up."

He texted Vanessa and Adele. Neither were interested in coming in on their night off, but promised to meet at Shawn's apartment after.

My memory of the night was patchy after that. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but I was experiencing my first blackout.

Shawn and I did one last round with our last customers and closed the place down. I couldn't remember any of the cleanup though I definitely pushed a mop around at some point. Perhaps even danced with it. I could remember nothing of our walk to his place, or of hanging out with the girls, or of emptying my stomach in his bathroom, or later falling asleep on his couch.

Bits and pieces slowly returned to me when I woke the next morning with the sun warming my face. Adele was snoring in a sleeping bag on the floor nearby - apparently she had partied nearly as hard as I had.

"Hey, girly." Martin emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. I sat up to make room for him on the couch and he passed me one before sinking beside me with a tired groan. "You guys partied pretty hard last night."

I smiled weakly. "That we did." I didn't want to admit that I couldn't remember if he'd joined us or not, or that I couldn't remember much at all. Martin was the most sensible of all of us and I worried sometimes that he’d get sick of our shenanigans and ban us from his place. But he never offered a single unkind word - only warm smiles and careful admonitions. It made me feel more guilty than any shouting and name calling ever could.

And amongst all my guilty mornings, this one was a real stand-out.

"Is anything bothering you, Riley?" He turned so he could look me in the eye as he spoke. "We consider you a good friend. You can tell us if something's wrong."

I curled up, wrapping my arms around my knees.
What the hell did I say last night?
"It's just dumb shit with Mallet again," I mumbled. "And my ex. Tyler. And I’m gonna have to deal with family stuff with Thanksgiving coming up. I never wanted things to be so complicated. I hate this."

"Well that's life, lady." He patted my shoulder. "Maybe you should stop worrying about that long list of people so much and start worrying about
you
."

I squinted at him.
Is this the part where he tells me I'm drinking too much? I'm young and I'm having fun and I'm a bartender, for God's sake. I'm no different from him or any of these guys.
"What do you mean?"

"Is there anything you want to do besides bartend? A career? And your music, don't you want to play anymore?"

"I do," I whispered. I missed it terribly but I didn't let myself dwell on it. I wasn't ready to try joining a band again yet after the way things had ended with Jen and Robin.

"Well. That's all I'm saying. Think about what makes you happy. And don't confuse lust and hot sex with happiness." He winked at me. "It's a tough one to sort out but it's important."

"Thanks, Martin." It was good advice. It was just much easier said than done.

○●○●○●○●○

I didn't have a shift that night, thankfully. I was sitting on the couch watching television in sweatpants and slippers when Robin came home.

Unfortunately, she had Jen with her.

"Still here?" Jen asked, stopping right in front of the TV and blocking my view. "I thought for sure you'd give up and move home by now."