Embracing Everly (5 page)

Without missing a beat, I pulled onto the street and started the drive to my temporary home. “I told you already. The name is Mick. I go to school here, but these college girls just don’t do it for me. You, you do it for me, honey.” She did do it for me, too. All chicks did it for me, but this one would be easy. I could point them out a mile away. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am and don’t let that door hit ya in the ass once I got my release.

“All right I’m game. My name is Tracy,” she purred into my ear once she scooted over to my side, her hand already running over the bulge in my pants. I realized, in a haste to get some ass that I didn’t notice the tone of her voice. Shit! I hated her voice. I didn’t fucking care what her name was as long as she was magnificent in the sack, and I prayed she wasn’t a screamer or talker. It was possibly the whiniest tone I’d ever heard; like nails on the chalkboard bad.

I cringed wondering if I was right or not. I silently prayed to the sex gods, “
please don’t be a talker
.”

I placed my hand on her knee and squeezed hard. “Well, Tracy, I hope you like it rough because that’s what you’re getting tonight.”

She lifted her short ass skirt up to her waist and launched herself into my lap. I almost sideswiped a parked car as she ground her panties into my already hard cock.

“You keep doing that and we ain’t going to make it back to my place.” I peered around her to keep my eyes on the road as she mauled my neck with her lips.

Fuck it! I got the message loud and clear. I pulled into the next empty lot half a block from my apartment and shut off the engine. “Get on all fours,” I barked out as I snagged a condom out of my glove box. She didn’t even try to argue about what I was expecting.
Yep, pegged her right.
She hiked her skirt all the way up to her tits just as I shoved her panties to the side and slipped my finger to find her soaking wet. “You’re all ready for me. I like that.” I unzipped the fly on my jeans and rolled my papa stopper on. The entire time her ass was just sitting pretty in the air, waiting for me to claim it.

I slammed inside of her so fast and hard I barely heard her protest. “Holy shit, what the hell is that?”

“Piercing on my dick. No more talking.” I warned her, as a thrust deeper. She kept shouting my name, which normally I liked, but this chick was just pissing me off with that cringe-worthy voice of hers. I just wanted to get to the finish line, drive her back to the bar and make it all stop. “Oh, Mick,” she screamed again. Apparently the gods weren’t listening to me tonight.

“Shut up,” I reminded her.

I was almost there, and I just needed for her to can it, even the sound of her moaning was a turn-off. It was like a bucket of ice water to my dick when she made any noise. I placed my hand on her back to hold her down just as I felt my balls tighten and let go. I panted and stayed inside for a second before pulling out, not even caring if she got off. Which was not my usual MO. I liked to think of myself as a giver, not just a taker, but I just wanted her gone.

“I don’t appreciate the way you spoke to me,” she yelled as she yanked her skirt down and fixed the black crap under her eyes using the visor mirror.

“Well,” I slid the condom off. “You have a voice that got on my damn nerves. Anybody ever tell you that?” I rolled the window down and threw the condom in the parking lot. It was rude and classless, but I didn’t want that thing in my truck. “It’s enough to make a man go limp.”

She gasped, which I expected. “You didn’t even make me come.”

I shrugged. “Not my problem, darling.”

“You’re a pig. Take me back to the bar right now.”

I turned my head so she couldn’t see my grin. Just how I wanted it. Shit, she was lucky I didn’t make her walk back those few blocks. “No problem.”

She didn’t talk the whole five minutes back, which was the cherry on top of the icing, not to mention I was positive she was lying about the orgasm. I felt her tighten around me, and the rubber was drenched when I slipped it off.

Even though my body felt the relief from the release it had needed, I wasn’t tired enough for bed. I decided to do my nightly check on Angel at work since she had only half hour to go before she got out. I always made sure she got home safely. As I pulled in, I saw her little German coupe parked out back, letting me know she was still there. I refused to go in, not ready to see her in action again because I knew what made me weak, and the sight of her singing made me forget all about Dawson and his damn hands-off rule. Jumping out of my truck, I lit up a cigarette and made my way into the shadows to wait for her to come out.

I was on butt number three when she finally made her debut from the back door. I shook my head, pissed how no one ever thought to walk her to her car. I needed to rectify that. It was after eleven at night, dark as shit out except for the one little light on the back door and not safe. Remaining hidden behind the dumpster was when I got a little glimpse of her. I had seen her every day for almost two weeks, and she was always the same; jeans, t-shirts, and Converse. Cute. Very cute. But, not tonight—the way she dressed at night were my favorites. Everly morphed into a damn dirty angel, looking like she belonged on a stage with a pole between her legs, and I had gained a whole new appreciation for being assigned to babysit her.

My head was swirling with visions of her naked, dancing around that pole I conjured up, so I didn’t see the gun pointing right at my head until I heard the click. “Oh, shit, baby, put that thing away.”

Her hands were shaking like a leaf, but she wasn’t budging. “Who are you?”

I held up my hands. “I was just out here smoking. Not allowed inside.”

She continued to hold her stance, tilting her head side to side. I even saw her take a little sniff of the air for cigarette smoke to check if I was lying. “I’ve seen you back here before. You shouldn’t lurk behind trashcans. You scared the hell out of me.” Point taken. She had seen me hanging around. Apparently I sucked at stakeouts.

“What’s a pretty thing like you scared for anyhow?”

“No reason.” It didn’t escape my attention she was still armed and waving that damn .38 Special around.

“You want to put that thing away so I can head back inside?”

She motioned with her chin for me to go, but remained silent. “All right, I’m going.” I walked away from her slowly not sure what she was going to do, but turned as an afterthought. “By the way you have a voice like an angel.”

Even in the dark I could make out the small smile that spread across her face as the bright light over the door glowed all around her. Even though I knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, I was glad to break the ice. I didn’t need, nor did I want to hide anymore. Something about that girl looking like a vixen, pointing that gun at me fired up every raunchy part of my mind and body. She thought pointing that thing at me was going to scare me off, little did she know it only turned me on more, like my own personal aphrodisiac.

I’D SEEN HIM
around campus and even once leaving my apartment building when I had happened to look out the peephole waiting for Charlie. When I had caught him hiding behind the dumpster for the second-time something resonated with me. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, but a little warning went off in my brain questioning his sudden existence. My dad taught me a long time ago how to shoot at the firing range he went to, and even got me a concealed weapons license to be safe. My friends thought it seemed weird for a dad to take those precautions, but they didn’t have a dad who saw all walks of life in his line of work. It was just his way of ensuring extra protection when he couldn’t do it himself.

I wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement when I had approached him because sometimes those emotions felt the same to me. My heart pounded, and blood rushed to my head, my legs felt like they could barely hold me up. He was sexy up close; I’d give him that. All the guys I’d dated were cute, even handsome, but not one could touch the likes of him. There was nothing cute about him. He was tall, dark, mysterious and oozed sex like it was on the menu ready to order as the daily lunch special. Even his walk for crying out loud was hot the way he swaggered back to the door, invoking all sorts of improper images and ideas in my head. And that voice. It was deep and gravelly and a small little part of me, the devil side, wondered what it would be like to hear him whisper to me sweetly in bed. Which led me to wonder if guys who looked like him or acted like him, even knew how to talk sweet or cuddle? I had always loved to cuddle, and I hadn’t found one guy who felt the same. How the hell hard could it be to hold someone after sex? I mean really?

That was what I wanted someday, a sweet guy. Charlie was nice and all but he was a little conceited. And lately he had been following the frat’s mantra of bro’s before ho’s slogan to a tee. I got it. I did. I once dated another guy from a different frat last year. Unfortunately it turned out he was way more into drugs than me. With a father in the DEA, I couldn’t do it. It was a shame too because he was actually sweet when he tried, and he even held me once or twice.

Placing my gun back into my purse, I started up my engine. I allowed myself one quick glance back to see if he was still there, but he’d gone. And I’d forgotten to catch his name, which pissed me off. I bet it was something just as sexy as him too.
Damn, Ev get a grip. You have a man.

Charlie was in my apartment watching EPSN when I got home. I’d given him a key the month before and had forgotten to get it back. “Glad to see you let yourself in again.”

He held up a beer can as a gesture of hello and belched.
Ugh, he could be
so
gross.
“Where’ve ya been?” he asked without taking his eyes off the television set.

I slipped off my black peep-toe stiletto and tossed it on the couch. “Where does it look like?” Not like he cared. He never came to see me play anymore.

He glanced down at the shoe then swung his gaze up to me. “I still don’t get why you have to dress like that to work at a coffee shop.”

“It’s an image. I told you before, and it’s not just a coffee shop and you know it. I mean, heck, they serve beer too.”

He paused and his eyes swept over me one more time like he was debating internally. “Why, do you want your image to be a slut?”

Oh, no he didn’t.
“Wow!” Immediately, my hands flew to my hips in a rage, ready to take on his nasty judgment. “You did not just say that to me.”

“Ah, yeah, I did. I don’t get it. You look better without all that shit.” His words suddenly had my pissed off attitude slipping away as I thought his statement through. Sometimes I just took things the wrong way. The product of my mother’s lovely words growing up, making me feel crappy about myself.

“Thank you for the compliment, but you know I’m not a slut.” I took my other shoe off and made my way over to the couch. “Bad night. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

His hands kneaded my shoulders taking the edge off I’d been on since I left work. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, remembering Mr. Tall and Sexy. “Just this guy lurking around lately. It was weird.”

This tore his attention away from his basketball game to focus on me.
Figures
. “What guy?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t catch his name.”

His hands froze on my shoulders. His nails dug in harder than I liked. “You talked to him?”

“Just for a sec.” I squirmed away. “It wasn’t a big deal.” No way in hell was I mentioning I pulled a gun on the poor guy. Charlie had no clue I even owned one.

“Don’t talk to him again. You’re my girl. Tell him to fuck off if he comes back around.” Charlie turned me, lifted my legs, allowing them to rest on his as I lay back onto the pillow. He refocused on the latest scores as I studied his face. Part of me hated the possessiveness, but a part of me loved it. I wasn’t really one hundred percent sure if I even loved him, but I liked him enough to find out.

IT HAD BEEN
a long, and I wish I could say lonely, week without Charlie, but it had been kind of nice. He had been busy with frat bullshit and exams, and I had been busy writing more songs about him. Well, maybe not him exactly, but about love, in general. That was what I wanted to do when I got out of college. I wanted to write music and to hear someone sing my songs on the radio. I liked to sing music, but I loved to write more. I used to be scared to death to sing in front of people until my dad forced me to perform in front of his entire department for a banquet. They let me face the wall the entire set, but cheered and clapped for me when it was all over. I did manage one song letting them watch me. They gave me the strength to face my fears on my own, and now I sing all the time for money. I dressed a little more on the risqué side for better tips. Most college guys didn’t have a ton of money to drop on anything other than beer, but they came in to see me and handed over a few extra dollars to me versus the other singers. And I was okay with this because I was saving all my money to move to New York City when I graduated. I knew my dad would float me the money, but I wanted to be able to say I did it all on my own—one pickle jar at a time.