BENCHED (10 page)

She finally pulls back, still lightly stroking me.

“You’re still hard.”

“Because I’m going to fuck you,” I growl. I pull her up on top of me and kiss her hard, locking my arms around her. She wriggles and squirms in my grip, trying to wrap her legs around me.

“Backseat,” she gasps, “Get in the back and fuck me.”

I smack her ass, hard, and she yelps.

“I give the orders around here. Now get in the backseat so I can fuck you.”

She giggles and slips off my lap, throwing open the door in the process. She yanks open the back door and climbs inside, or tries to.

I grab her hips, pull her back, and throw up her skirt. Her back arches and I see her eyes go wide in the reflection on the far window as I thrust inside her.

I take her slowly, holding her steady and swinging my hips to ride into her, shuddering as her tight, slippery, wet pussy wraps around my shaft. When I’m pushed into the root, I draw back and savor the feeling of her gripping me, the way her fingers tighten on the seat.

“Fuck, you’re
huge
,”
she moans, “oh my God, oh
shit.”

I drag her closer to me and pump faster. Her body pulses, grips me, and then headlights flash across the car, lighting us up like it’s fucking noon.

Phoebe arches up and I am so close to coming again I could scream, my balls aching.

“Get in!” she yells.

“I am in!”

“In the
car!”

She pulls away and I follow her inside, my dick still wet from fucking her. I can’t stop, I need her.

I pull the door shut and watch her panting, staring, her skirt still flipped up over her ass, her pussy so wet that her thighs are slick. Just the sight of it so red and plump for me drives me insane.

I grab her and pull her back down on me. Her back arches as she takes me, and she flops back against my chest and spreads her legs, straddling mine.

“Wuh-wuh-we should stop,” she groans, but she pushes down on me hard, her body swallowing my shaft with hot need.

The car creaks from rocking as I thrust up into her and she bounces wildly in my lap, grunting each time I bottom out and push her back up.

“Harder, come on
harder, please!”

She grabs the little handle over the door and rides, bouncing on me. I can’t stand it anymore. My ass rises off the seat and my whole body is clenched, trying to hold myself back. Phoebe is slick with sweat soaking through her blouse, weighing down her hair.

I lock my arms around her and thrust deeply when I come, burying myself inside her and filling her. She quivers and jerks in my lap, her ass pressed into my stomach, her head lolled back over my shoulder as she climaxes, her body gripping me hard, squeezing out every drop.

It feels so fucking good. She feels so fucking good.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, when she finally is able to. “Oh my God. Oh my God, we’re in the back.”

“What?”

“Oh my God we’re in the back? Did you close the door?”

She slips off me and wriggles around. Her legs shake like leaves and she can barely hold herself up to tug on the door handle.

“What?”

“It locks from the outside,” she yelps, “We’re stuck in here.”

“
What?”

“Why did you close the door?”

“You said get in, I got in. You never said anything about the door.”

“Haven’t you ever been in the back of a cop car before?”

“Uh, no?”

“Crap!” She yells, “Shit, shit, shit. Tell me at least you have a phone.”

“Yeah, why--”

“Mine’s in my purse. In the front seat.”

She shoves her skirt down and plops next to me.

Phoebe is covered in sweat, her hair is all over the place, her clothes are stuck to her sweaty body, and she has never looked more fuckable than she does right now.

She snatches my phone from my hand and dials a number.

Twice.

Finally they pick up.

“Jim! Jim, it’s me. I’m locked in the back of my Tahoe. No, I’m not joking. We’re at the game lands. Yes, we. Just help me. Please. I can’t let anybody find us like this.”

She hangs up and passes the phone back to me.

“So we’re stuck in here,” I say.

“Yeah.”

I pull her onto my lap and kiss her.

P
hoebe

A
s my mother would say
, well this is a hot mess.

Where are you, Jim?

I’m sweaty, I’m exhausted, and if Alexander doesn’t take his hands off me, I’m going to get sweatier and more exhausted. I feel like a cat in heat, or a school girl on her first date. I can’t peel myself out of his lap or keep my hands off his body. At this very moment, my head is pillowed on his chest and I’m running my hands up and down his sides, gently moving with his slow, even breathing as he strokes his hand down my back, squeezes my ass, and repeats.

“How long are we going to be stuck here?”

“He shouldn’t be long. I don’t know who else to call. He’ll have to get the spares first. Grace has a set of my keys.”

He rests his chin on top of my head. “If we stay out here too long, the monster might get us.”

“I have a gun.”

“You do?”

“In my purse,” I sigh.

“Wow.”

“Off duty cop, Alex.”

He nods. “Is that why you carry?”

It isn’t, but I’m not ready to tell him the real reason, the truth about why I was so hesitant to go out with him even after I started to change my mind about his behavior.

“I never did guns,” he says.

“Me either, until I got this job. I’d think you’d need one before me.”

“Me? Why?”

I shrug. “Living in the city and all that. Muggers and carjackers and stuff. Nothing like that here. Everybody knows everybody. It’s peaceful. The worst thing we’ve had to deal with this year was a few drug busts and a raccoon breaking into the old folk’s home to steal macaroons.”

“What’s a macaroon?”

“It’s like a cookie.”

“Oh. Never had one.”

“Really? My mom used to bake them.”

He tenses. Laying on top of him, I feel the way his breath hitches.

“I would bake them if I had time. I like to cook, I really do. I’m just too tired.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he rumbles.

The way he touches me changes. His roaming hands come to rest, his arms weigh down my back. I go still with my arms around him, listening to the thumping of his big heart under my ear.

“Something bad happened to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Call it cop instincts.”

He sighs. “Yeah. I was twelve.”

“What was it?”

He’s quiet for a while.

“It’s not an interrogation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“My dad was a drinker,” he begins, his voice low. “He drank a lot. Hit my mom when he was drunk. Drove when he was drunk. Got pulled over a few times, until he went up for six months. Then he hit rehab.”

“He didn’t stop,” I whisper.

“No. He was clean for a while, then they fired him from the grocery store and he hit the bottle again while my mom worked. One night he took them out for a drive.”

I tense. “Drunk?”

He nods slowly. “He made them get in the car, dragged my mom out by her hair. Her and my sister. Left me behind.”

“Then what?”

Alexander’s voice tightens, like a rope being pulled on both ends.

“He hit a tree. My sister was sixteen. Katherine. Kat. Broke her neck in the crash. Mom went through the windshield. She was killed instantly. Kat lasted a week.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“Broken nose and some superficial wounds.”

“Jesus.”

“He was sent up for manslaughter. Ten to twenty. He’s still in. He’ll be out in four or five years.”

I shift in his lap and rub my cheek against his chest.

“You ever think about what you’ll do?”

“I could tear his spine out and fuck him with it.”

The anger in his voice shakes me. “You wouldn’t,” I say, clutching him. “That won’t bring them back.”

“No, but twenty years of his life isn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough. I…”

“Would go to prison, too, if you hurt him. Nobody wants that.”

“What does it matter? All I am to anybody is a cash cow. No one actually gives a shit about me. Lou only cares how much money he can make off me. The team only cares if I play well.”

I sit up. “What about me?”

“You care?”

“Maybe. Do you? Care about me?”

His big hand rests on my shoulder. Everything about him is gigantic. I run my hand down the length of his arm, feeling his massive muscles, and shudder.

“You’re not like anybody else I’ve ever known.”

I smile. Then the door opens, and there stands Jim in his bathrobe, dangling the keys.

“Last thing I expected tonight was to drive out to the woods and find you two in flagrante delicto. Seriously, Phoebe?”

A quick flash of anger flares in my chest like a spark from a lighter.

“You’re not my dad, Jim.”

He looks at Alexander. “You left town.”

“We’re in the city limits. Come on, Jim.”

He looks both of us over. An itch clings to the back of my neck, and I pluck at my blouse, to pull the damp fabric away from my chest. I cough, then slip out of the car.

Alex stands behind me, towering over my head. I nonchalantly walk around to the driver’s side, while Alex climbs in.

“Thanks, Jim.”

Bemused, he shakes his head and walks back to his car. He’s still got a Crown Vic, the last one the department owns.

“Please don’t say anything to anyone,” I call out.

He gives me a nod and a wave.

“When I plow my wife in the back of my cruiser, I remember not to lock myself in,” he says, before ducking into his car and pulling off.

Next to me, Alex laughs softly.

“Not funny,” I growl at him.

“We better get you home.”

“Yeah.”

He’s quiet the rest of the way back into town, his gazed fixed on the distance. Great, Phoebe. We were having a great time until you started interrogating him, locked in or not.

I groan.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I have this thing on Sunday. It’s going to be awkward.”

“What thing?”

“My older sister’s birthday party. Her husband will be there. He coaches--”

“The other peewee team? Yeah. We met, remember?”

“Yeah. I can’t stand him. Creeper.” I sigh.

Alex shifts in his seat. “What if you have a plus one?”

“What, like if you go?”

“Yeah. I could do that. I could do things like that,” he says, as if he’s surprised by his own admission.

“Alex,” I say, wary. “Meeting my family is kind of a large step. We’ve been on one date.”

“A hell of a date,” he says. “I could do this again. Minus getting locked in. I wish you hadn’t noticed.”

“What, that we couldn’t get out?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting in his seat to face me. “You looked like you were up for round two.”

My cheeks heat up. “I can’t stay out too late. I have a kid.”

“I know.”

Shit, it’s after eleven. We were in the backseat of my car for almost three hours. It’s eleven thirty by the time we pull up to the house.

“Should I come inside?” he asks.

I bite my lip. If I take him in with me, I’m not sure I’ll let him leave. The whole world feels like it’s doubled in size, and the thought of lying in that big empty bed by myself is less than tempting.

My wedding band shines on my finger, like it’s trying to get my attention.

“I’m not ready for that.”

“If you say so.”

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

“I could tell,” he grins. “You get very vocal when you’re having a good time.”

Once I park, he steps out and I go around to give him a hug. He bends down and tips my head back and kisses me lightly on the lips before he caresses my back, then releases me and walks to his house.

When I reach my front door, it flies open. For half a heartbeat, I expect to have to explain myself to Carrie, but it’s Grace who waits for me.

“Carrie is in bed,” she tells me. “He kissed… you…”

Her eyes go wide. She sniffs the air around me, and her eyes go wider. He jaw drops.

“You’re kidding me,” she whispers. “You fu--”

“Grace!”

“You had special mommy daddy hugs?”

I glare at her and push past into my own house.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” she mutters.

“Thank you, Grace. I wasn’t planning to be so long.”

“You wouldn’t have been if he wasn’t so long?” she says, grinning.

“That was lame, Grace. You can do better.”

She snorts. “Right. So how was it? Is he, ah, proportional?”

I sigh. “Seriously?”

“Come on, he’s as big as a house. I’m just wondering if he’s a grower or a shower.”

I give her a flat look.

“Fine, fine. I guess I’ll be on my way, then. See you Sunday?”

“Yeah.” I nod and yawn.

“So he wore you out.”

I almost shove her onto the porch. “I do appreciate this, Grace, but please shut up.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, and I close the door, then trudge upstairs. First stop is to check on Carrie. She’s fast asleep in her bed, where she should be, in her fuzzy pajamas. I give a sigh of relief and get in the shower.

I can’t stop thinking about his hands on me, how he felt inside me. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had sex and I don’t think I’ve
ever
had sex like that. He’s a stallion.

Grinning to myself, I wrap up in a towel and head into the bedroom. When I glance out the window, I spot Alex across the side yards in his own bedroom, lying on his bed. He looks over and sits up.

My grin widens, and I drop my towel, stand naked for a few seconds, and then click off the light, still grinning. That’ll give him something to look forward to.

Sleep. I need sleep. I have the weekend off, already arranged for Hailey’s party. I’m not much looking forward to that. Relations between me and my eldest sister have always been icy.

Hailey was always everything Mom wanted. She was girly, demure, and she grew fast, always towering over me. She wore dresses and skirts and played tennis when I was in mud and jeans, and she dated doctor’s sons and married right out of high school to her future dentist.

I, on the other hand, didn’t do so well in the marriage department.

I should tell Alex why I still wear the ring, and why I was so reluctant to go out with him. Staring at the ceiling, I wave my hand in front of my face, looking at the little band of gold around my finger.

Carefully, I grasp hold of it and twist it. I turn it this way and that until it starts to loosen, then pull it slowly from my finger and set it on the nightstand.

My hand feels weird, like I just pulled off part of my skin. The flesh where the ring once rested is so much paler than the rest of my hand, the skin smoother with a faint green tinge to it. My fingers flex and I get used to the feeling of them moving without the weight and pressure of the ring.

I have an urge to go over and pound on Alex’s door and tell him right now, but I keep it pressed down. Maybe I never need to tell him at all. Never need to let him see how weak I am.

When I wake the next morning, Carrie is already up and has hobbled down to the kitchen to wait for me. I half expect and half hope that Alex will show up, but by the time I’ve started breakfast I don’t think he’s coming.

Oh, of course. There’s a peewee game today. Carrie can’t play, her ankle is still hurting her. I don’t want her limping around the field and risking a more severe injury.

It’s an away game, so Alex had to get up and get to the high school to get on the bus with the kids. He’ll be gone all day.

Saturday is a fine day for Pop Tarts.

Usually Carrie would want to play outside, but I insist she rest in the living room and watch cartoons.

While she’s in there, I walk into the garage, flip on the lights, and bind up my hair. I don’t want to leave Carrie alone, so after I lift and do my bodyweight exercises, I make do with the treadmill and run until I’m panting and covered in sweat.

This day just drags. As it wears on, I start to realize I’m excited for tomorrow, for Hailey’s party of all things. That’s never happened before.

The rest of the day is lazy. Carrie and I sit in the backyard and swing on the hammock. It’ll be too cold soon, and we both enjoy the last of the sun. I keep glancing at the house next door, hoping to spot Alexander, but I never see him.

I just happen to lift my head from the hammock pillow and spot that orange hatchback cruising down my street.

“Stay here,” I tell Carrie.

I get up and jog to the front gate, and step out into the yard. By the time I get there, the Rabbit has reached the end of the street and turns hard to the right with a chirp of its tires.

Leaning on the tree in my front yard, I wonder if I should call it in. That’s the third time I’ve seen that woman cruising my block. What does she want?

Maybe I’m just being paranoid. The world isn’t out to get me, at least, most of the time. It just feels that way.

Sighing, I head back into my yard. Carrie is more than happy to lazily swing back and forth in the hammock.

The grass is a little long. Our yard isn’t really that impressive, it’s just grass. When I got the place, I figured I’d build all this beautiful garden and things for my daughter to play in, but keeping the grass from getting too high is all I can manage. Always with the too-high expectations.

Why can’t I shut up in my own head for five minutes and enjoy a nice fall day with my kid?

For the next few hours, I do just that. Lounge in the hammock, then drive her to Dairy Queen.

“Honey, stay here,” I tell her as we return to the house. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she says, the words slurring into a big yawn as she flops on the couch.

I step out the front door, lock it behind me, and step over to Alex’s place. He answers on the third knock.

“Hi,” I say, trying to tamp down my excitement.

“Hey, come in.”

“I can’t, no one is watching Carrie. I just wanted to say hi, and um, make sure we’re on for tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says. “I can’t wait. When should I come over?”

“Um, two-ish. I’m supposed to be there at three.”

He grins. “Will do.”

God, he’s gorgeous.

“Okay then.”

I’m still standing on his porch. Staring at him.