Mister Dick

“Yeah, me too.” Her voice was rough, like whiskey over rocks. “But let’s get on with it before I lose my mind.”

Her words burned into my brain. I used my tongue and my fingers. I tasted and caressed and massaged. When I plunged two fingers deep inside, she swore like a trucker, and that made me smile. I angled my fingers just so and knew when I found her honey spot because her entire body nearly jerked off the bed.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “That feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“I got you.” I worked her over, bringing her close and then easing off. When I knew she couldn’t take it anymore, I added my tongue into the mix, and she came within seconds. As her body shook with the force of her orgasm, I sank into her, balls-deep, and had to take a moment because I didn’t want to blow.

I looked down at Echo and found her eyes on me. She reached for me, her hands on my shoulders urging me on. We caught our rhythm, and it wasn’t slow or easy. It was fast and hard and so damn good, I thought I would come apart. I held on as long as I could, prolonging the endgame because it was going to rock me harder than any time before. When I came, I literally saw stars, and held her as we both convulsed. And when it was over, when the last aftershock left my body, I thought I never wanted to let her go. I thought I’d never felt closer to a woman before, and considering all the random, meaningless sex I’d had, that was saying something.

I pulled the covers up over us even though our bodies were slick with sex and sweat. She settled into my arms as if she’d always been there, and it was like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t describe it any other way. It was like I needed her there to breathe. Like there was no future for me if she wasn’t in it. Like if someone tried to take her from me, I’d kick their ass and put them down. It was heathen. Neanderthal.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

What did I say to that? Did I play my hand? Toss the dice to see where things stood? Was I really going to do that right now?

Nah. I needed to keep it light, because I knew Echo could bolt if she felt things closing in.

“I’m thinking that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Ditto.”

“I’m thinking we should probably do it again just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke or something.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m thinking that this time, you should be on top.”

She laughed at that and slowly pushed me until I was flat on my back and the covers I’d just pulled over us were a tangle at our feet. Slowly, she slid her body over mine until she straddled me. Her hair was wild and all over the place, her lips was bruised from my mouth, and there were patches of red skin where my beard had scratched her.

She was the beginning and the end for me. She bent close and met my tongue with hers. She kissed me deeply, and then I was inside her again. She rocked into me like a champion, and it wasn’t just my body that craved her. Not anymore. I settled in and let her love me, and I gave it right back to her.

I was done for. Probably for forever. This connection was the real deal. And just before I came, I slammed my eyes shut and thought…

So this is what it feels like to love someone.

23

Echo

I woke up at six even though I’d hardly slept. My body was sore, but it was a good sore. The kind of sore that said I’d spent the night doing naughty things. I’d given and taken and…

And I wanted to do it all over again. I smiled at that thought and looked at Boyd. It was still dark out, but the shadows weren’t as deep as they’d been an hour ago. He was on his back, one arm flung over his head, the other wrapped around me because I was tucked into his side like a damn puppy.

He looked dangerous and sexy and younger than he was. I saw the little boy he must have been. And then thinking about little boys got me wondering about things I shouldn’t wonder about. But the thing is that once you’re in, it’s hard to get out. Hard to stop your mind from wandering. I stared at him, and my heart flipped over. Just because. I felt like I was home, and that scared the crap out of me. Hadn’t Harm

ony told me to have a conversation with Boyd before this? Hadn’t I told myself that I needed protection? That I needed to know what the hell this was before proceeding to the next step? Before letting him inside me?

But he said it wasn’t casual.

He also hadn’t mentioned love. I blinked. Shit. Was that where my head was?

He muttered something, and the expression on his face made my heart melt. Yeah. That’s where my head was. And that was the problem. He melted my heart. He owned it, actually, and it was a sobering thought that got me out of bed.

I slipped from his side and rolled out of bed, careful not to wake him. I pulled an old pair of track pants from the cupboard along with an Ole Miss sweatshirt I’d taken from one of the guys who played in my dad’s band years ago. The red was faded from years of washing, and it was so big, it came to my knees, but I loved it. Like mac & cheese, it was comfort, but without the calories.

No one was up, and, starved, I grabbed some fruit and a yogurt and wandered into the family room. Large and cozy, with comfy furniture, family photos, a fireplace, and flat-screen television, it was where we gathered for Christmas and Thanksgiving when the family was talking, which lately hadn’t been often. An antique guitar was mounted on the wall, autographed by Hank Williams. It was one of my father’s prized possessions, and I walked over to it. Hank Williams was one of the original storytellers, a superstar who died too young. He was an original badass, but it was his recordings as Luke the Drifter that my dad loved most. Beside the guitar, boxed up behind glass, was the original record signed by Williams.

I remember listening to this with my dad. He’d play along with his guitar, and we’d drink up all the sadness in Hank’s songs. We’d wonder about the man behind the music. Why did the darkness always call to him? Why did it matter more than his family? Why was my dad exactly the same?