Barbie

We spent the last few days just cruising under the sun that’s getting warmer with each mile we cover, and making love, and falling asleep in each other’s arms under the stars on nights that keep getting warmer too, the closer we get to the ocean. All of it has run together into just one endless day in my mind, eternal and never ending. In other words, this is better than any road trip I used to daydream about taking. The rest of my daydreams are coming true too, so hard and so fast, I have no need for them anymore. They have become my reality.

Warm wind is brushing my bare arms now as we ride, and the world around us is bathed in the soft brownish hues of a hot summer afternoon. The air shimmers on the horizon and there’s no one but us on this perfectly straight road for as far as I can see. It’s been that way for the whole day. We’re alone in this world, just the two of us amid all this wild beauty stretching out towards eternity before us and behind us, and off to both sides of the road too. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Well, maybe I’d prefer to be lying with him in a field of grass, naked, satisfied and happy, but only just.

I can make at least a part of that daydream a reality right now. I’m holding onto him tight, tighter than I need to because we aren’t going fast. His t-shirt is flapping in the wind, his smell mixing with all the other scents of late summer on the air, of the open road and freedom. I slide my hand under his t-shirt.

His scent and the feel of his strong body in my arms will forever be tied in my mind with freedom and belonging, with the gorgeous sights only the open road can offer, of clear untouched waters, of green lush forests and the empty, straight roads, of the tall grasses and trees swaying in the fields lining them that sometimes stretch out as far as my eyes can see, of clouds gathering on the horizon with rays of sunshine piercing them, all of it so close to the ground it’s like the heavens are touching the earth, of the fresh scent of dawn in the middle of nowhere. It will forever be tied to the kind of oneness I’ve never felt before and probably never will again.

His body feels even better than I imagined it would too. The rippling valleys and peaks of his abs and his chest are all I can touch at the moment, but I’ll get my chance at the rest too. Soon, I hope.

“Keep going,” he says and grins at me in the rear view mirror as he loosens his belt, leaving me with no doubt as to what he’s suggesting. That’s just how it is between us, we don’t even have to speak much—most of the time we don’t even have to speak at all—to be understood by each other. And that’s a huge part of why I have no need for daydreams anymore.

I grin back and keep caressing his abs like I’ve been doing. “I just wanted to feel your skin.”

He shrugs and grins wider. “Fair enough, I like your skin a lot too.”

And that’s no lie, he likes to kiss and lick every inch of my skin, so this is just a plain statement of fact, and one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever gotten. Because it came from his heart.

After awhile, the road we’re riding on fills up and comes up real close to an interstate. A fair sized town is visible in the distance, the first one we’ve passed close to in days.

“Let’s stop and go dancing tonight,” I say into his ear. “And I kinda want to sleep in a real bed too.”

I kiss his neck without waiting for a reply, because it’s right there and he smells so nice and he feels so good in my arms, and I want all of him all the time.

“Alright, Barbie, let’s do it.” The way he says it kinda makes me think he’d give me anything I asked for, and that feels amazing too.

I’ve known for awhile now that I’d give him anything he asked me for. I should tell him that, but I’ve been waiting for the right moment.

* * *

We ended up in a bar that’s also a restaurant to kill two birds with one stone, as he put it—get some food and take me dancing at the same time. We’ve finished dinner about an hour ago and the place is starting to fill up with the evening crowd coming here for a good time, since apparently it’s Saturday night. I’d lost all track of time awhile back, and even now, knowing it, the day of the week has no meaning. We haven’t found a place to sleep yet, which is a good thing, since we’d probably just stay in, if we’d done that first, but not to sleep. That would’ve been fun too, but so’s this, and I want it to last.

We’re not even talking, we’re just holding hands, looking at each other and smiling. Even though the place is pretty full, I feel like we’re still alone, out on the open road, just him and me getting lost under the sun, everything inside me vibrating to the tune of his bike. Everything inside me is still vibrating, and I think that’s because he’s the source of it and not his bike, so it’ll never go away. I hope it doesn’t, because I love it.

“You’re not dancing,” he remarks, grinning at me.

Some country song is playing on the radio, but it’s not very loud and not very danceable to. I’ve been eying the jukebox in the corner for awhile now to fix that.

“Do you think that thing works?” I ask, pointing at it.

He looks at it, then reaches into his pocket and tosses some change on the table. “Why don’t you go check it out? I wouldn’t mind seeing you dance.”

“Oh, you like dancers, do you? Well, then you’re in for a treat.” I give him a coy grin then scoop the money off the table and sway my hips over to the jukebox, feeling his eyes on me even after I can’t see them anymore.

I’m wearing the black beach dress I got when I went shopping on that first day in preparation for going to the beach. It’s tight, has a low neckline and even though it’s a maxi dress, it has slits on both sides that come almost up to my hips. He’s not the only guy watching me as I walk across the bar, but I feel his gaze most of all.

The jukebox looks new and fully operational, but there’s hundreds of songs to choose from, and I can’t think of the perfect one. The longer I stare at it, the harder it is to decide. What’s the one song that would make this evening even more perfect?

I feel him standing right behind me a split second before he envelops me with his arms and presses his strong body against my back. He didn’t startle me, not even a little bit, because I’ll always know him, even with my eyes closed, even if I were blind.

“What’s taking so long?” he asks.

Then he kisses my neck and makes it impossible to answer, makes my pussy tingle and grow wet for him. By the time he pulls away, I’m pretty ready to scratch the whole dancing idea and go straight to bed.

“I can’t pick,” I complain, leaning against him and swaying a little. I don’t need a special song to dance for him, the one playing in my heart since I met him is enough.

“How about this one?” he says and points to some hard rock tune that’s completely wrong for what I had in mind.

“That was playing when I got you away from those assholes,” he adds just as I’m about to tell him so. It kinda takes my breath, both because he remembered a thing like that, but also because he’s wrong. I’m also pissed at myself for not thinking to play the song that was playing the night when we found each other.

“No, it was this one,” I point to another song, a ballad that I clearly remember hearing the chorus of as we escaped through the back door. I could still hear it playing as Brick followed us outside and Ice beat him up.

“No, it was definitely this one,” he says. “I remember it was pissing me off, because it was so loud I couldn’t hear what you were talking about before I came over. The other one started later.”

I crane my neck to look at him. That winter that was always in his eyes before is pure spring now, blooming gorgeous and just for me. “I guess they’re both our song then. Which one should I play?”

He smiles. “Which ever you want.”

I’m a simple woman and hearing things like that melts my heart. Or maybe that’s only happening, because he’s the first guy I truly believe means those words when he says them to me.

“OK, well, I’ll play the one we can dance to,” I say and press play on the ballad.

He twirls me around and keeps holding me, and we’re not really dancing, just holding each other as we lock eyes and sway to the music. We’re still just doing that long after our song finishes playing. I didn’t hear a single note of it anyway, I didn’t have to for this to be more perfect than any daydream I could come up with.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests later, when the dance floor is already packed with other couples and it’s getting loud. I feel drunk although I never even finished that second beer we ordered. Drunk and giddy and so happy to be alive, happier than I’ve ever been to be alive.

“Yes, let’s,” I say and take hold of his hand as we walk out, because I’m not yet ready to stop holding him.

It’s chilly outside and we’ve got a long way back to our bike, which we left near the edge of the downtown area to go in search of a nice place to eat and dance. But I don’t need a jacket, his arm around my shoulders is enough to keep me warm even against the coldest wind. He’s not wearing a jacket either, or he’d probably offer it to me, and knowing that makes it all just that much more perfect.

“Hey, I know,” I say, pulling him to a stop in front of a tattoo place with a bright red neon sign announcing it. “We could get you a new tattoo. Actually, we could get matching ones.”

He eyes the place skeptically then narrows his eyes at me. “You have a thing for getting matching tattoos, don’t you?”

He’s not being mean, I can tell that from his eyes and the sound of his voice, but I don’t actually understand what he meant.

“Not especially,” I say slowly. “But with you it’d be different.”

I finish it with a bright smile, which should leave him with no doubt as to what I really mean.

“Not especially?” he asks then pulls my hand up so it’s under the light. “And the guy who has the other half of this, what’s he? A puff of smoke?”

He’s pointing at the half a heart I have tattooed on the outside of my left palm.

“A puff of smoke? That’s funny and pretty accurate too,” I say and smile up at him, because this night just got a little more perfect.

“I got this a long time ago. And I got it by myself, thinking that once I find the right guy, the perfect guy, he could get the other half on his right hand. Like this…” I press my palm against his, lacing our fingers together, and point to the empty spot on his that’s level with my half heart. “If you had the other half then we’d make a whole heart together. I thought that’d be so cool, but it’s been ten years or more since I started looking. But now…well…you could get the other half tonight, if you want.”

I should’ve found a better way to ask him that, but it’d be so perfect, I couldn’t waste any time thinking of the right words. I just had to say it.

His face tightens, his eyes get wide and he looks very frozen for the split second before he laughs. “Funny joke there, Barbie.”

“I meant it,” I protest, not sure how this conversation veered off track so spectacularly fast. A split second ago the whole world seemed to be spinning towards finally saying those three little words to each other that I’ve been dying to say and hear for days. I was gearing up to tell him how I truly feel about him, that I love him, and I expected to hear it back.

“Sure you did,” he says lazily like he’s taking none of it seriously, but that look in his eyes is plenty serious, so I truly don’t know what’s what anymore.

“Let’s go in and you can get those butterflies around your kid’s name,” he says. “And I’ll get a butterfly too, so I’ll have something to always remember you by.”

He’s already holding the door open for me so I go inside, even though I’d rather protest this turn of events and ask why he’ll need to remember me when I plan to be with him all the time from now on.

Before I know it, we’re sitting side by side in the chairs. He’s getting a butterfly that looks a lot like the one on my back put on permanently on his arm, and I’m getting four tiny versions of it around the date on my arm. It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time, but never had the courage to go in by myself and ask for it, because I knew I’d just end up crying for days afterwards and tears are pointless. They’re staying put in my throat now as the guy starts piercing my skin, and I know I’d never have the strength to sit here and let it happen if Ice wasn’t right beside me holding my hand. But a tear does trickle down my face once the first butterfly is complete.

Now my baby will finally be able to fly free and happy. Because that’s what butterflies are. They form in an ugly, hard cocoon into something so beautiful, so perfect, so light and free and alive there’s nothing else like it in the world. That’s what my baby would’ve been, one of a kind, perfect, special and more besides. Now I can finally let him go, let him be a butterfly in a better place. And for the first time in years, I feel like I can be and have all those things too. Because Ice is holding my hand.

* * *

Ice

She’s sleeping, but I’m wide awake, sweating and my heart pounding from another nightmare that was bad enough to wake me. I’ve had nightmares almost every night since I got captured by Lizard, and they didn’t stop after I was freed. If anything, they’re getting worse now that I stopped thinking about all the things wrong with my life, my mind, my future and my past during the day. I stopped doing that once I let Barbie talk me into enjoying this road trip her way, though I didn’t need much convincing. She’s the best lay I’ve ever had, and she’s a lot of fun spending time with when fully clothed too.

But I’m forgetting that as I fight this losing fight with pushing down the nightmare. It took me right back to that night, to the moment I returned to the clubhouse after getting a hurried, barely coherent phone call that everything and everyone was going to hell. It was all as vivid and realistic as when it happened, more like a memory than a dream. I’ve never seen so many people dead in one place, not before nor since. The clubhouse was already burning when I reached it, but I could see the bodies clearly through the windows. They didn’t have a chance, they were all killed before the place was set alight. In real life, I went to my father’s house next. I found it engulfed in flames, but saw the red lights of bikes in the distance at the very end of the road leading past my childhood home and out of town. I took off after the lights, not knowing what I’d find when I reached them, but hoping it’d be Lizard so I could kill him. I found Lizard and I found my sister. I saved her, but I didn’t kill him.

However, this time the nightmare took me to Sanctuary after showing me the burning clubhouse and dead bodies, to the place my sister now calls home and it was burning too. She was dead, her whole family was dead, and fire was destroying everything my six years of being treated worse than a fighter dog bought. I couldn’t stand knowing it, so I woke up. But now I still can’t stop seeing it.

Barbie was the cause of all that destruction. Or I was, for stepping in because I couldn’t watch her get beaten. But in real life, she’s also the cause of me being able to forget all the nightmares—the real ones, and the ones I dream—for hours, for days at a time.

She came within an inch of telling me she loved me last night, because that’s what she thinks is happening. Good thing I averted it, else we’d have a problem on our hands right now. I can’t love. I don’t even love my sister anymore, she was dead to me for too long. I was dead to me for too long, and I’m not coming back to life.

But I’ll enjoy the butterfly on my arm, enjoy the memories of Barbie and how good she felt in my arms and on my dick and lying next to me. And of how easily she made me forget the bad for hours at a time. But there’s no forgetting forever. This empty dead weight of regret and hate in the pit of my stomach as I try to disregard the nightmare is proof enough of that.

I haven’t been in touch with Roxie or Cross since I met Barbie, but we’re gonna reach Nevada today and California the day after. I’ll call them later today to see what’s happening. I hope nothing, but while hope is a very nice thing to have—Barbie showed me that too—it’s just a puff of smoke, easily swallowed up and destroyed by the reality that I stole her from two guys who are gonna want her back, and will probably shed blood to get her. In my experience that kinda thing is a matter of principal with old-timers like that, more often than not.

I won’t let them have her, and that means I can’t have her either. But I’m gonna enjoy Barbie some more before we get to that crossroads.

She’s a sweet girl, a sensitive, but strong girl with a bad past, and she’s got lots of love to give. She should give it to someone who can give it back to her, because that’s what she wants and it’s what she deserves. But it’s not something I can give her.

She hasn’t seen any of my demons, not since that first night I fucked her, and that’s because she makes me forget so well. They’re always there though, right below the surface, waiting, growling, and sharpening their claws. I don’t want her to meet them.

Her skin always tastes like she just got caught in a spring shower, and she smells better than all the flowers of spring combined. She moans in her sleep while I kiss her neck and her breasts and her belly, but doesn’t wake up until I find her nipples, which are always erect and ready for action. Playing with them never once fails to pull that sweet little sound of enjoyment-slash-surprise from her throat, and it’s the same now.

Her neck tastes best of all, and her moans are the sweetest while I’m kissing it. I love how her racing heartbeat and this soft purring sound she’s making tickle my lips. I love the feel of her palms gliding across the back of my head and my neck, my shoulders, my arms, and my chest, as she surrenders her softest parts to me like I’m not a monster. But the thing is, she just hasn’t met the monster yet, because she’s been so good at keeping it away.

Her pussy is warm and soft and always wet, and I love how it tastes too. She has the nicest, most sensitive clit, prettier than any flower, and she comes so fast when I play with it. Like right now, she’s already on the very edge, purring and moaning and playing with her nipples while I lick and bite and get my fill of the taste of her. But I won’t let her come yet. Right now, we’re gonna go slow.

She can’t hide the disappointment as I stop playing with her pussy and kiss my way back up to her neck. I guide her onto her side, and her purring moan rises in pitch and intensity as I rub my cock over her pussy. I can’t help but moan a little too, since there’s nothing quite like the feel of her velvet soft clit against my rock hard cock. So I do that for some time, while kissing her neck and letting her purring moans cause ripples in my blood. But being inside her is even better than this.

She inhales sharply once I give her my cock. I’m entering her pussy slowly and deliberately, half inch by half inch. Her moan doesn’t end, just keeps getting deeper and louder, audible even as I kiss her lips and she kisses me back. I’m holding her tight, kissing her well, my cock now buried all the way inside her sweet, wet pussy. If I could give her even more of me, I would. But this is it. This is all I have to give her.

I pull out slowly then give it all to her again. She comes before I fully enter her the second time, her whole body rigid, her pussy gripping my cock tight like she’s never gonna let go, and her moan stuck silent in her throat.

I’m not done yet, not even close, and she’ll take more, because she loves to come, and I love watching her come. She opens like a flower when she does, all traces of that smart-ass, slutty exterior of hers parting to reveal the full extent of how beautiful she really is. She’s beautiful through and through, and she’s too beautiful for me. Too beautiful for anyone I know. But she chose this life and that was her mistake.

Pretty soon the long strokes I’m giving her start working their magic on me too. All else is fading, falling away, and nothing but how good she feels, and how gorgeous and pure she is, matters. Absolutely nothing. I pick up the pace, making her moan and purr louder. We come at the same time, her pussy gripping my cock and her fingers like a vise on my arm. She takes all I have to give her and doesn’t ask for anything more. It’s completely dark in the room, but the sun is shining too, and it’s her.

I don’t let go of her once we’re spent, don’t take my cock out as I doze off, because I want this to last for as long as it can.

My reasons are different from the ones stopping her from getting off my cock and extricating herself from my embrace. Hers are loving, mine are selfish. I want to sleep the rest of this night without nightmares, and I think being this close to her will work. But she deserves better than that.