Lifers (21 page)

“Second door on the left!”

We crashed against the frame and fell backwards onto my bed. I felt the springs of the old mattress protest beneath me.

He bit my breasts through my shirt and started tugging at my jeans even as I fumbled with his zipper.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” I rasped out.

He yanked the drawer so hard, it flew apart, showering the contents over the wooden floor. But he was a man on a mission and he found what he wanted among the debris. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold the packet.

I’d managed to push my jeans and panties past my knees, but they’d snagged around my sneakers. Jordan took one look at my predicament and flipped me onto my stomach, then pulled my hips up so I was on my hands and knees.

A second later, he was inside me and I cried out.

I felt his whole body hunched over me, his bare skin slapping loudly against mine. Each thrust threatened to make my arms collapse and I had to fight to keep my balance, pushing back against him.

It was hard and shocking, coarse and crude. Utterly unrefined and utterly thrilling. His roar as he came was loud and certain.

We collapsed onto the bed, his weight on top of me, his hot breath searing my neck.

I felt his dick twitch inside me and I whimpered.

He cursed softly and pulled out, rolling onto his back.

From the moment we’d kissed on the porch, to this second must have been less than four minutes.

For a while I lay unmoving, feeling sluggish and fighting sleep. Finally, I turned so I could see him. His chest was still heaving and one arm was thrown across his eyes. I looked down to see my jeans and panties tangled around my feet and I couldn’t stifle a small giggle. He froze at the sound.

“Hey,” I said, “you still alive under there?”

I tried to move his arm but he wouldn’t look at me.

“Jordan!”

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, still refusing to look at me.

“Um, what for?”

“I behaved like a fuckin’ animal.”

“Well, yeah, you did. But I liked it.”

This time he let me move his arm and he turned his head toward me, his beautiful soulful eyes filled with doubt.

“Did I hurt you?” he said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Hell, that was a great start to my day!” I chuckled. “It was like a shot of adrenalin followed by a coma. My body doesn’t know what the fuck’s going on, but damn that was good!”

“Good?” he sounded puzzled.

“Jordan, you dope! That was amazing! I haven’t been fucked like that since … well, ever. I’m slightly in shock. I think I’ve been missing out all these years.”

I glanced at my watch.

“Oh, hell! I’m going to be late on my first day! Oh, this won’t look good, turning up looking well used and smelling of sex!” I slapped his chest. “It’s your fault! Look, I’ve got to hustle, but feel free to take your time, have a shower—whatever. Oh, and you totally have to clear up the drawer you upended.”

I sat up, grabbing my pants and shuffled to the bathroom to clean up as best I could. A damp washcloth was good for soothing my throbbing lower half, and I splashed cold water on my flushed face. Hopefully, I’d look reasonably presentable by the time I got to the coffee shop.

Jordan had his shorts back on and was scrabbling around on the floor, collecting my scattered belongings.

“I like to see a man on his hands and knees,” I laughed.

Jordan looked up and smiled, then pulled me forward by my hips and yanked up my shirt to plant a soft kiss on my belly.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been at your feet since the first day I met you.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, ruffling his already unruly hair. “But I’ve got to run or I’ll be out of a job before I start. I think it’s too early in my barista career to use the hot-guy-in-my-bed defense. There’s a key in the flowerpot by the front door. Lock up after yourself.”

I kissed the top of his head and left him kneeling on the floor in my room, a huge smile plastered across his face.

Jordan 

It took me nearly 10 minutes to gather up everything I’d dropped on the floor, fix the pieces of bedside drawer and hammer them together with my bare hands.

I didn’t know what the hell had just happened. When she touched me, I completely lost my mind. The way I’d behaved was unforgivable. But the real mind fuck was that Torrey had said she’d liked it. I’d had her bent over on all fours, fucking her like a damn dog, and she
liked
it. Well, good—because I fucking
loved
it.

I didn’t understand her, not for one freakin’ second. I’d thought that I was just a mercy fuck. At least I’d talked myself into believing that afterward; it’s not what I’d felt at the time. But when I was with her, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel judged. I couldn’t figure out why, but she seemed to accept me for who I was. Not that I knew what that meant anymore, but she made me feel alive.

Jordan 

Working in the Reverend’s backyard for the rest of the day was almost relaxing. Clearing the shed tested my muscles and patience, but it gave me time to think about Torrey, too. And not just her. For the first time, I allowed myself to think about what would happen in four months and two weeks, when my parole was up. I needed a plan of some description: a job, somewhere to live … how I was going to just
be
.

My parole officer had told me repeatedly that I needed to work on having some achievable goals. I was finally beginning to understand what she meant.

I drove home stinking and dirty, and got straight into the shower. I swear I tried not to think about Torrey’s tight little body pulsing around me, but the moment I had that thought, I was hard as a damn rock. It was like my libido had taken license to go crazy. I was jacking off three and four times a day like I’d just hit puberty.

In prison, there was rarely any privacy—that didn’t stop everyone from beating the meat occasionally. Most guys would keep it under the covers at night. I wouldn’t say it was tolerated by the guards, but I guess they understood. The only time I saw them come down heavy on anyone was when it was used to disrespect a woman corrections officer. That used to happen sometimes. One of the cons would get talking to the woman officer and keep her talking, while a guy sitting in his cell across the corridor or across the room would get himself off, staring at her ass.

It creeped me out, but a lot about prison life creeped me out. And if it didn’t, you were one of the nut jobs.

But now, my damn cock wouldn’t stay down. Jeez, I hoped I hadn’t scared Torrey off with the way I’d behaved—all the shit I’d put her through already.

Suddenly, after the stress of the last few days, I needed to see her. I needed to be sure that I hadn’t scared her off completely. She’d said she was okay but I
needed
to see her. I
needed
to know.

I finished my shower and changed into the jeans Momma had gotten from Goodwill. They fit pretty well, which was a nice change, and then I snuck into Mikey’s room to get another t-shirt. I still felt guilty about being in there and using his stuff, but somehow it was getting easier. We’d always borrowed each other’s shit. Half the time we never knew whose was what anyway, except for pants. I was taller and he was bigger, but everything else we’d shared. I saw his favorite Maroon 5 shirt in the drawer.

“Thanks, buddy,” I whispered, as I pulled it on.

I managed to leave just as Momma was coming home. Her face was sour with disapproval as usual, glaring at me through the windshield. I wondered if I’d have to appear before the inquisition when I got back, or whether she hated me too much to care where I’d been.

The usual feelings of anxiety chased me through town and all the way to the mall. I pushed them back and reminded myself that I was doing nothing wrong by being here. I wasn’t a free man, but I wanted to make the most of the liberty I had.

I studied the coffee shop carefully through the plate glass window. There were maybe a dozen people scattered around the room inside, and four or five sitting on the patio, although I got the sense it was getting busier as commuters passed by on their way home from work.

I still wasn’t used to the idea of there being a mall in this piss-ant little town.

I didn’t recognize anyone, which was a good start, but it was only when I saw Torrey standing behind the enormous, stainless steel coffee maker that I got up the nerve to push open the door and walk in.

I lined up behind two other guys who were buying take-out coffee, hoping that Torrey would look up and notice me. She appeared to be concentrating on the monster machine, and I couldn’t help smiling as a billow of steam made her jump slightly.

I started to give my order to the cashier, but as soon as Torrey heard my voice, she looked up and grinned.

“Hey, babe!” she said, walking toward me. “Whatcha doing here? Stalker, much?”

“I missed you,” I said, honestly. “So I thought I’d come see where you work.”

The cashier smiled, her eyes flicking between us. “Is this your boyfriend, Torrey?”

I was painfully curious to see how she’d answer that question. It wasn’t something we’d discussed. I guess technically we were still waiting for our first date.

“I don’t know, Bev,” she smirked. “I’m thinking about keeping this one around a while—see how he works out. He’ll get his fitness report after the weekend.” And she winked at me.

“Well, let me know how that goes,” said the woman named Bev, “because I’ll take him off your hands if you’re not certain.”

“Sure!” laughed Torrey. “Give me your number and I’ll let you know if he’s available.”

“Hey!” I huffed out. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No!” they both said in unison, and laughed.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine, I’ll just do as I’m told. Let me know how I do, sweetheart.”

“Waal,” said Torrey. “I’ll keep you around for now—see how you shape up.”

Bev giggled. “Oh, I’d say he’s in fine shape, honey. Very fine shape.”

Her lascivious look was starting to make me sweat, and I glanced around, looking for a retreat.

“Take the table in the corner,” Torrey said, sensing my sudden discomfort. “I’ll bring you your coffee.”

I smiled my thanks and turned to go, but not before I heard Bev ask, “Is he as hot in bed as he looks?”

I didn’t hear Torrey’s answer, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

The place got pretty hectic after that, mostly take-out orders, so Torrey was busy. But about 10 PM she sauntered over to my table and plopped what looked like a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich in front of me, except it was made from some fancy Italian bread.

“I thought if you’re going sit here all night, I’d better feed you,” she smiled.

“Thanks! I am pretty hungry.”

Which was an understatement. I was half starving but I couldn’t afford to buy anything on the menu besides coffee.

She watched me eat for a moment, a small smile on her face.

“Are you waiting till I finish, cowboy, because I’ve got another two hours to go yet. God, my feet are killing me. I’d forgotten how tiring these gigs are.”

I frowned slightly. “Um, actually I’m gonna have to get gone in a few minutes.”

She looked disappointed. “Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Torrey, no! I wish I could stay. I want to spend every goddamn minute of the day with you, but I…” my voice dropped to a whisper, “I have curfew.”

Her mouth popped open in a small O, and a look of understanding crossed her face.

“Shit! Sorry, Jordan. I completely forgot.”

“It’s cool. I know it’s kind of pathetic that a man my age has a fuckin’ curfew.”

I dragged my hands through my hair, frustrated by the invisible chains that held me back, stopping me from behaving like a normal guy.

“Hey,” she said softly, grabbing my wrists. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Go home, get some rest. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

I blew out a long breath. “Sunday, yeah. Should I pick you up after church?”

Her eyebrows shot upward.

“Um, no! I don’t go to church, so you can pick me up any time you want.”