South Row (13 page)

I came to talk, I swear I did. I hardly slept a wink last night, my brain and heart heavy with thoughts that South may not want us anymore. I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve been so hot and cold with her that it’s a wonder she hasn’t caught the flu yet or, at the very least, a bad case of the sniffles. It didn’t help my sleep-deprived state that the woman sleeping soundly next to me was not the one I wanted and I felt all kinds of guilt about that. Not as much as I should feel, when the first thing I think about after getting two hours of sleep is not the woman showering for a spa day with her friends, but the one that got away.

I needed to know where we stood. She said to give her time, but time has done nothing but tear us apart in the past. What we had was now and that was the only kind of time we needed. So as soon as Kaylee left, with a kiss to my cheek, to have her spa day with her girls, I left also, with single-minded determination. South was not going to give up on me, on us, and I was going to convince her of that. My only weapon: my words.

Seeing her in that Stone Temple Pilots t-shirt, with it clinging to her breasts and barely covering her lacy blue boy shorts made all reasoning fly through the window.

Holy fuck she looked hot. My dick perked up like a dog sensing danger, and that danger was standing in her doorway with a baseball bat and combat boots, looking like the sexiest ray of sunshine on a cloudy fucking day.
My
Red
.

The first taste of her was like an electric jolt. Everything inside of me jerked and sprang to life. She had the faintest hint of mint on her breath, but there was also a sweetness to her that I couldn’t get enough of. I couldn’t get close enough to her. I couldn’t hold her tight enough. I wanted to get lost in her depths so bad; to take her right up against her wall while her door remained open. I needed to possess her. So I made her come…in a matter of minutes; seconds maybe.

Holy shit! She set off like a rocket around me and we weren’t even fucking. God, I can only imagine how good it’ll be when I finally get her underneath me, above me, around me. She’d consume me, I know it, and I’d love every moment of it. Cherish it.

The haze of our lust had barely been cleared when we heard throats clearing, signaling that our very private moment was no longer private.

I turn to see a smiling Luke hand-in-hand with South’s friend. He moves on fast. Yes. Yes, he does. I know this. The whole female population knows this. They’ve got the broken hearts to prove it. I can’t help but be pissed that he would toss South aside, just like that, like she’s nothing special.

Isn’t that what you wanted?
my snarky inner voice reminds me. I look into South’s unreal blues and I see no trace of hurt or anger. So, yeah, that’s what I wanted.

What I didn’t want is to see a man walk out of South’s bedroom, scratching his chest, with his erection greeting us with a “top o’ tha mornin’ to ya”.

Setting South down, I barge over to the prick – no pun intended – backing him up to the wall. The fucker lets out a squeak and shields his head by hunching his body, crossing his hands over his head and raising a leg.

“Not the face! Not the face!” he pleads. I know this voice.

Red is trying and failing at hiding her laughter, turning her head away and biting her bottom lip.

“Scott?” I acknowledge in an incredulous tone.

He slowly lowers his hands and peeks up. Recognition dawns on him and he straightens up, plastering a manly scowl on his face.

“You fucking scared me!” he snaps, hitting my chest. “Oohh...” His hand lingers on my pec and he gives it a squeeze. “Well, hello to you
, too.”

“Get away, get away, get away!” I squeal – like a little girl, I might add – batting his hand away and jumping to the safety of South. I paste my front to her back trying to shield myself from the groping gay. Not good, especially considering he’s got a boner. I feel so violated.

“Get it away!” I gesture wildly to his business still all out there.

“What’s wrong
, sweetie? Never been felt up by someone like me?” Scott jokes. “Don’t worry, it’s an acquired taste and you’ll love it.” He winks at me and I almost throw up.

“Uh...no,” I refuse. “I’ll pass.”

“Sweetie,” South chimes in, amusement thick in her voice. “Mr. Johnson is giving us a salute.”

At South’s weird explanation, Lydia bursts out laughing. Scott looks down and you’d think he’d be embarrassed. Nope.

“Take a good look, boys. It’s there if you change your minds and dump these heifers.”

“Uh, I’ve had bigger,” Lydia pipes up, blushing as she steals a look at Luke.
Interesting.

“And I’ve seen bigger on Collin here,” Luke adds. “And that was when he wasn’t even aroused.” He shrugs dismissively.

I feel South stiffen then shiver against me and, God, that shit is so hot. Pressing closer to her, I hear her suck in a breath, smiling at the small victory.

“Oh, God. Can I please hang with you guys? Preferably in the locker room,” Scott begs seriously, only to have the women burst into louder fits of laughter. Yeah, I’m keeping Scott away from seeing any part of me naked.

At Luke’s and my silence, he shrugs and saunters off, but not before calling out, “Your loss!”

**********

The morning went considerably easier as we all sat down to eat breakfast prepared by South. I don’t even think you can call it breakfast, maybe a morning orgasm for the palette. Raspberry pan au chocolat, bacon hash, French toast dusted with cinnamon, coated with syrup and topped with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, loaded omelet with bacon, sausages, cheese and seasoning, a serving of fresh fruit, orange juice and a fresh pot of coffee gave us all over full stomachs.

As we ate, I found out that South is an aspiring chef, going to school in the days. I guess that explained her night job. If this is just breakfast, though, I can’t imagine other meals. Oh, God, I can’t imagine dessert! Just thinking about it is giving me all kinds of ideas. Like eating dessert off of her soft stomach. Yeah, that sounds good.

Kaylee would never be caught dead in a kitchen. I don’t even think she knows, or even cares to know, how to boil water. If we don’t order in, we go out to dinner (which we do more often than not).

“Why do it when there are people around who’ve mastered it?” Kaylee once said. Back then I agreed, because who needs a woman who can cook when she can blow you into forgetting your name? Am I right?

Wrong.

When the haze of a well blown cock wears off, ravenous hunger sets in. It is a pain in the ass to roll out of bed, limbs all Jell-O-like, to get dressed to go out to dinner when all you want to do is roll over and sleep into next week. The intimacy of the moment gets shot to shit when that happens and makes me all kinds of grumpy.

Knowing that South can cook, and do it so well, makes my decision that much easier. Seeing her in this element – laughing (snorting while she does it), comfortable – is a sight to behold. It feels…like home. I need her. I need to be with her.

South’s friends are hilarious. Lydia is a fucking Amazon, a Wonder Woman look-alike. Her long dark hair literally shines, her green eyes assessing. She has pouty lips, a tall, curvy body and a sexy throaty voice that I bet sounds amazing when she comes. She’s hot and I can see why Luke likes her so much.

Yes, our Lucy has once again been shot by Cupid’s arrow and is enamored with his ex-girlfriend’s friend after only meeting her the night before. He is all over the poor girl, touching, teasing. He won’t hear the last of this and he knows it, but he’s so far gone that he doesn’t care that the guys will have a field day with this. Good for him.

“Barf,” Scott grumbles as he takes in Luke nuzzling Lydia’s neck and her giggling.

“Oh, come on Scotty, it’s cute,” I tease, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“Shove me like that again and I will drag you to my love cave and have my wicked way with you,” he threatens. I believe him.

To escape his perverted, have-you-ten-ways-to-Sunday gaze, I decide to do the dishes. Luke and Lydia snuggle in the sofa watching South’s ancient TV. Scratch that,
Anchorman
is watching them, while Scott is glaring at the lovebirds. I can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, I’m coming in tonight.” South enters the room on her cell phone. “Raj knows my set.” Pause. “Vanna goes on before I do.” Pause. “Oh, no worries. I can take that slot. Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. Ok. No problem, Trace.”

She clicks off with her boss and the grip I have on the fork I’m washing loosens. I need to address this. No way am I going to allow her to keep dancing.

“South, we need to talk,” I voice gravely, drying my hands and turning to face her.

“Ok, shoot,” she says, hopping up on the counter, he short legs dangling. Adorable.

Focus!

“I don’t want you dancing anymore. I don’t like it,” I tell her.

I hear a gasp from Lydia and her head snaps up to focus on us. Scott blows out a low whistle and South breathes out an eerily quiet, “What?”

I gulp nervously and soldier on. South doesn’t scare me. She doesn’t. “Look, these guys probably beat it off to the image of you dancing. I don’t even want to think about you giving some of them lap dances,” I argue. “I don’t like it, Red.” Yes, firm. That’s what I need to be.

She hops down from the island but makes no move toward me. Maybe she understands after all.

“What gives you the right to dictate whether or not I dance anymore?” Her voice takes on a low snarl. Uh oh.

“South–”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?” Her voice is rising.

“Uh…
I’ve got something to, uh…bye!” Scott hurriedly leaps from one of the single couches and dashes for the door with one last pitiful glance at me.

“We’ve got to, uh…go fuck. Yeah, that…” Lydia stutters, getting up from the couch and dragging Luke behind her.

“Really? Hell, yes!” Luke exclaims following behind her like a dog in heat.

Lydia stops at the door and aims another pitiful glance my way, before shaking her head and dragging Luke out the door with her. I guess it’s safe to say: I’m in trouble.

My morning went from orgasmic, to relaxed, to downright nuclear. How
dare
he tell me that I can’t dance anymore? Aside from that, I do it to pay for school, but I really love dancing. It’s not like I’m taking my clothes off. I’m simply dancing, albeit erotically. I’ve never had to take my clothes off, not even when I was starting out at that seedy club owned by Vinny Gordano. Never mind that he and every other guy at Titty Kitty wanted me to and I had to leave because the pressure became too much and I never made a lot of money because I didn’t flash a tit.

Trace found me standing out in one of Frisco’s rare
off-season downpours outside the Titty Kitty, in a Pocahontas outfit and my bag pack over my shoulder, after I quit. He was passing, on his way to Totem. I was crying because I didn’t know what I’d do now that I had no income, and was seriously thinking about going back into the club to beg for my job back; because, really, what was flashing a tit or your hoo-haa in the grand scheme of things? If it paid my college tuition and put food on my table, why not? The very thought of that, however, made me cringe. I just couldn’t do that.

Trace gave me a job, but on my terms. He took me into Totem that first night, got me warm clothes and coffee and made me watch the night’s festivities from his office. Not one time did I feel uncomfortable or did he make me feel uncomfortable in his private space. While some of the activities got my eyes to bug right out of my head – like couples having sex while they watched a girl dancing above them naked – I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, freedom and solace.

This is where I was meant to be. I didn’t have to take my clothes off to make a quick buck. He allowed me the option to keep my clothes on, never once pressured me to do otherwise. I blossomed under his instruction and attention, and I worked my butt off not only to make myself money, but to make him money. Two years later and I’m almost done with school, no student loans to speak of, I eat regularly and all my bills are paid. I might not live in a condo or drive a Bugatti, but I’m comfortable...happy.

Happiness didn’t come easy for me after losing everybody that meant everything to me – my mom and my au
nt. I had to battle with a lotta sadness throughout my life, but when I’m dancing I don’t remember any of that. I feel transcendent. I feel alive, untouchable. Dancing frees me and I never plan to give it up, not even when I become a big time chef.

Dancing at the Totem saved me from a life of uncertainty and possibly whoredom. What’s more, it brought Collin back to me. So, no. No, Collin. You can’t tell me to give up something that brought us back together and brings me immense happiness. You don’t even have that right!

“Collin, I’m going to chalk that bullshit you’re spewing up to the fact that you’re probably too full of my breakfasty goodness and had a severe lapse in judgment,” I offer. “Because if you meant anything you just said to me–”

“I do,” he cuts me off, giving me a hard, but nervous stare.
Wrong answer, bub.

“Listen here, Collin. Maybe you can order your
fiancée
around and, what the fuck about her anyway? But me? Not so much.” I had to throw that in there. He doesn’t own me. My finger is not the one he put a ring on.
I
waited for him. He did not. Not that I expected him to; but for that reason alone, he doesn’t get to dictate what I do or how I live my life.

I’m not from a wealthy family like he is. I don’t work at a swanky law firm where I rake in the cheddar like a fat rat. I have to work my ass off to get myself through culinary school, and with no skills and just a high school diploma, this was my best option. I tried waitressing and could only survive a week of bad tips and poor wages before I “traded up” and found the Titty Kitty. I made more money than I did at the restaurant, but still it wasn’t enough, especially with me not willing to drop my panties at the first sight of a hundred dollar bill; a hundred dollar bill that would have, no doubt, taken care of my electric bill at the time and put food on my table for a week or two.

Where was he when all I had was darkness and could only use candles and flashlights? Where was he when I was hungry and had to rely on Scott or Lydia to feed me? Where was he when my school called to tell me that if I didn’t make payments, I wouldn’t be permitted to classes? Where was he when bill collectors were bracing down my door to collect what I owe them? Where was he when my car was repossessed? Where was he when my aunt died and I had no one? Where was he when I had to bury the only family I had left, after burying the one that meant the most to me? Where was he when I was getting the mean end of Kenneth Row’s literal stick? Or his boot? Or his hand? Where was he when that animal was killing my mother?

That
…
man
took everything away from me. Everything that Kenneth Row took to the grave with him, dancing gave it back.
It makes me happy. More specifically, dancing at Totem makes me happy because I don’t get to think about any of that shit.

I realize that I am up in Collin’s face and that my breathing is hard, heaving and angry. I must have said all of that out loud. There is a look of pain on Collin’s face, but also tenderness. I had no intention of making him feel guilty about anything, but, it’s all out there now.

“Baby,” he coos quietly.

“Where were you?” I whisper, my voice catching on a soft sob.

“Right here,” he answers. “I’m right here.” Then he takes me in his arms and I fall apart.

This is what I needed all those years ago. I need to be in his arms. To cry when I needed to. To feel his warmth, his care. I needed him all those years ago and I still need him now. I
need
him.

I lift my lips to his and plant them there. It’s a wet kiss, my tears mingling with our sealed lips. He doesn’t make any move to slip his tongue between the seam of my lips. He is being cautious when he doesn’t need to be. This is what I want; what I need.

Linking my hands behind his neck, I press up against him and deepen the kiss. On a groan, Collin parts his lips and his tongue slips across my lips. I automatically open for him and our tongues meet. Fireworks break out behind my eyelids and electricity jolts through my body with every touch of his tongue against mine. He tastes divine. The sweetness of breakfast mixed with his very own Collin flavor, his scent invading my nostrils and his touch igniting fire in my bones. It is a heady mix, one that has my nipples beading tight and a rush of wetness coating my inner thighs.

We don’t speak. There are no words. Our actions are speaking more than words ever cou
ld. Every swipe of our tongues is exploratory, needy, lustful. We can barely get close enough.  When we pull apart, it is only to stare at each other as we pant like hungry animals, approaching their next meal.

Quickly, I strip my tee over my head. I don’t know about him, but I mean business. Insert slot A into slot B type business. He does the same, so I guess we mean the same type of business; but…wow.

I have seen naked chests before. Ryan Gosling’s, Ryan Reynolds’, my baby daddy Channing Tatum’s, my future love slave Charlie Hunnam’s, even Trace’s naked chest that one time I walked in on him, in his office, slipping his shirt on after showering. Those chests are
nice
. Those are chests you want to lick sweat from; but Collin’s chest? It makes me want to weep with joy.

He is all male, all beautiful, and all sexy. His pecs are cut, his abs ripple in sets of…is that eight?
Holy Mary, mother of sweet baby Jesus.
His entire upper body is free of hair, except for that thin trail underneath his navel that disappears in his very sexy jeans. I want to see where that trail goes.

“Then why don’t you find out?” his sexy voice suggests.

I want to be embarrassed that I said that out loud and that he has caught me ogling him, but embarrassment is the furthest thing from my mind. I really do want to see where that trail leads. I want to know if it earns its name
happy trail
. Will it, indeed, lead to happiness? Only one way to find out. And with my big girl panties on – actually they’re my sexy vixen panties – I take a step toward Collin.

His eyes are on me and I can feel the heat from them. Every so often, his eyes sweep down to my naked breasts and a thrill of excitement flows through me when I see his nostrils flare. Oh,
how he wants me, and he’s going to get me.

“Guys, did you see my cell ph–” Luke bursts through the door and I shriek, my hands flying up to cover myself, even though he’s had a healthy peek at my ladies.

Collin dashes in front of me, his back shielding me from Luke’s surprised but lecherous gaze.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Luke asks the obvious, laughter lacing his words, as he flicks a quick glance at Collin’s crotch.

Neither of us answers, but Collin quickly places a hand over the very-present bulge in his pants and cocks his head slightly to the side. I imagine him giving Luke a “no-shit-Sherlock” glare. A giggle bubbles up in me and I try to restrain it, unsuccessfully. Collin tilts his head to look at me and I snap my mouth shut and attempt to look chastened. His face softens, but a fire flashes in his eyes that I want to help fan so it gets bigger and we both explode. First thing’s first, though. We have to get rid of Buzz Killington over there.

“Don’t forget to use a condom, Colline,” Luke advises as he strides over to the sofa and snatches up his cell.

He heads back to the door but stops before he exits. Turning back to us, he fishes in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. After rooting through it, he emerges with a foil roll and throws it to Collin, who catches deftly.

“Just in case,” he says with a smile. “You can thank me and my awesomeness later.” Then he’s gone.

Collin sags against me on a deep sigh and soft chuckle. I rest my forehead in the middle of his back, because I’m a little height deficient, and exhale. He shivers and turns to face me. Wrapping his strong, warm arms around me he rests his chin on top of my head. This feels good; like home. I inhale him and my mouth waters with the pheromones, testosterone and fragrance he emits.

“You smell like Old Spice, citrus and sandalwood,” I mutter, nuzzling his chest with my nose.

He chuckles and squeezes me tighter. “That’s deodorant and Acqua di Gio.”

“You smell like a man, like home.”

He doesn’t answer, only squeezes me tighter and kisses the top of my head. Inching me away from him, he cups my shoulders and stares deeply into my eyes. His enthralling honey gaze pins me and causes my heart to gallop wildly. We stand like that for minutes, soaking each other in and transferring our deepest stares to memory. I have to commend him for not once shifting his gaze to my very exposed and needy breasts. I mean, they’re right there, all plump and perky, but he doesn’t move his hands from my shoulders, nor does he shift his focus from mine. It makes me feel warm all over. I like this.

After long moments, he finally speaks and proceeds to make my knees go weak.

“I
will
make love to you, Southerlynn,” he promises.

A light whimper pushes its way through my lips and he steadies me as my knees buckle.

“Not fuck me?” I ask softly.

“No, baby.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to take my time. Savor you, every sound you make when I bury myself in you, every move your body makes against mine, every quiver of your very neglected sex.”

I’m on fire. I want him to touch me. Everywhere. His words lance through me like a sword of red hot desire, and it is a direct hit to my drenched sex that gets wetter with every word he utters.
Touch me, pretty please?

“But, not today. Not right now,” he continues disappointingly.

“What? Why?” I whine, stomping my foot.

Yes, I am very aware that I sound and am acting like a child right now, throwing a little tantrum, but really, who wouldn’t? We were both primed and ready to go a few minutes ago. Luke. His ass is going to be meeting my foot in the near future.

Collin chuckles – he’s been doing a lotta that at my expense lately – and kisses my forehead. “No, baby, not right now, but tonight,” he vows, his voice laced with licentious intent.
Yes, please!

“Tonight?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “I’ll pick you up from work tonight.”

My brows furrow. How is he going to pull that off? He’s engaged. Oh, God. He’s engaged. I’m a home-wrecker! Oh, God!

“Let me worry about all that, Red,” Collin tells me and I know he is telling me that he’s got this. And I trust him.

So I acquiesce. “Okay, Collin.”

“Good.” He kisses me on the lips, but as I am about to deepen it, he pulls back, groaning. “Jeez, I must be some kind of fool.” He adjusts his lingering erection as he steps away from me.

“Maybe Boo-Boo the fool,” I quip. We laugh, but Collin quickly sobers up as he stares purposefully at me.

“Trust me, Red, the wait will be all worth it,” he declares. The way he says
all
has my toes curling into the stiff-assed carpet beneath my feet.
Yes, please!

“Now, let’s talk before I change my mind.” He takes my hand, leading me over to the sofa.