Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

I circled my finger in the air and he complied by reenacting what happened. He was even a little clumsy while he did it. He was naked when he reached me.

“What next?” I asked, my voice husky with anticipation.

He palmed my breast. “Oh, you’re cold,” I said, shivering.

“Yeah, that’s about what she said. By then, my courage had gained steam. I said, ‘Let’s warm up.’”

He walked backward while holding my hands, bringing me with him. Once the back of his legs hit the bed, he stopped. He tumbled us onto the mattress and went to work, removing the rest of my clothes. Then, because my bed had been unmade, he easily covered us.

“There was a lot of hesitation and testing the waters. I don’t need to do that, do I?” he asked. I shook my head slowly from side to side. “Then I had to get out and get a condom because I’d forgotten that. Do I need to get one?” Again, my head swayed side to side. “I rolled her on her back and settled myself in between her legs.” He did all that and I bit my lip to stop a smile. “When I thrust forward, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I was wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because I never knew heaven until you.”

He leaned forward and kissed me gently. There was nothing fast. He took his time rocking us, savoring every move. He didn’t hurry us to the finish. I fell a little further down a path of no return at his considerateness as a lover.

Though it wasn’t as explosive, he was no less amazing. He clung to me as he rolled to his back and tucked me against his side. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating as I caught my breath.

“Now I’ve spilled to you, tell me about how you became a tow truck driver,” he said.

Points to him for him not asking me anything sexual. “I’m actually not just a tow truck driver. I fix cars at my dad’s shop.”

“That’s cool. Dad showed us how to change oil and fix a flat, but that’s about it.”

“That was the first thing my dad taught me,” I said.

“And now you can repair cars.”

“It’s not all I do. I actually went to college.” I stopped myself from saying more, realizing how bad it might sound.

“For what?” he asked.

“Writing.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but admitting I’d studied journalism could lead him to truths I wasn’t ready to admit.

“Novels?”

“Not exactly. I’m more of a non-fiction writer. I could write your biography and open with this story. But first you have to finish it.”

Though I couldn’t see his face with our position, I could hear the grin. “It didn’t go well.”

“What happened? Finished too soon?”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No, though I left sooner than I’d hoped. Her dad came banging on the door about the noise.”

I snorted with laugher. “Oh, no. What did you do?”

“I grabbed my clothes and dived out the window bare-ass naked.”

“In the snow?” I asked.

“In the snow. I thought my balls had frostbite when I got in Dad’s truck.”

I grabbed my belly, I was giggling so hard. Tears leaked from my eyes as I asked, “You didn’t get caught?”

“Nope. And you are only the third person after my brother and my best friend I’ve told.”

That warmed my heart, and I knew I could never use that in a story about him.

“What were you writing about? Anything I could read?” he asked.

“Just writing about the injustices of social media. Nothing you haven’t heard.”

He rubbed his fingertips down my arm as I drew circles that would probably resemble hearts if my finger had been dipped in paint.

“Did you want to be a writer growing up?” he asked.

“I think so. I used to write a lot in my diary, which was personal to some. But I wrote it like I expected someone to read it and understand my grievances with the world.”

“So why work on cars?” he asked.

“It’s a job and being a writer pays nothing when you don’t have an audience.” We were getting too close to the truth. I switched it up. “What about you? Did you always want to play baseball?” I angled my head, wanting to see his face.

“I wasn’t much good at anything else. I was an average student at best. I wasn’t as good at other sports.”

“If there wasn’t baseball, what would you do?”

He didn’t get to answer because there was a knock on my door.

“Avery, honey. Can I talk to you?”

I froze. I felt Nate tense beside me, and I realized he didn’t know who the man was.

In a whisper, while looking up at Nate, I said, “That’s my dad.” After a pause, I added, “I live with him.”

Nate nodded. “Okay. What’s the problem?”

“Avery,” Dad called again after another more insistent knock.