Chapter Seven

No More Tears

Grayson

I don’t like to see women cry. I don’t like it one fucking bit. I want to tell her that, but because she’s pissed I’m here, I don’t think it’s the right time. I also want to tell her I’m here because it’s my family’s property. Again, I’m not thinking it’s the right damn time.

No one comes out here. No one but me and the two other people I have seen in fucking underclothes walking out of that water in white—yes, white—fucking panties and a bra. And one in red boots, singing.

She lays the side of her head against my chest as I march toward the treehouse hidden behind branches and leaves this time of year.

I’m going to let her get dried up, changed, and...

I pause, trying to change the path of my thoughts, but she’s fucking with me.

When I get to the tree and set her down on her feet, she looks up at me, wrapped in a towel, goosebumps all over her, hair wet, and lower lip pushed out.

“You...” I stop, wanting to say she’s goddamn beautiful, but I don’t need to go there.

“You,” she says, a tear falling down her cheek.

Unable to stop myself, I swipe it away. Then I can’t seem to drag my hand back from her face.

“Don’t know how to do this,” I say, trying to fucking explain the unexplainable.

“Do?” she asks, pressing her face against my hand and sighing.

“Friends, secrets, you,” I admit, removing my hand from her face. “But I’m trusting you. Now, come on.” I push away the lower branches and look back. “Come on.”

Her lips are blue. I fucking hate that color. I like white, I like black, and now...now I’m starting to like the dust of rose that normally covers her lips.

She doesn’t move. I can’t see her eyes, either.

I let out a deep breath, releasing the stress her tears caused and hoping to release the fear in being here alone, with her, like this, brings me.

I’m not fucking weak, I remind myself.

I reach out, grab her hand, give it a tug, and she finally moves, but so does the fucking towel. Her tits are half-exposed, and though only briefly, it’s enough to make my dick jump.

I turn and walk toward the ladder before stepping aside. “You first.”

She lifts her chin and looks up, smiling just a little. Then her tits jump when she lets out a silent chuckle.

“Been here a long time, but it’s a good place to go when you need a place.”

“It’s yours?”

I nod then pull my hat down, covering my eyes.

“How? Why? When?” she asks, walking toward the ladder. “Wow.”

She climbs up, and I see her round, little ass cheeks staring down at me, taunting me, teasing me. I know damn well I’m fucked.

I keep both feet on the ground, using every ounce of restraint I have not to allow myself to believe she’s the same chick I fucked my hand to for the first time as a kid. I try not to allow myself to remember that...he used to fuck Mom to make her tears disappear. I try my fucking best to make my cock simmer down, wanting to dive into the fucking cold-ass water and float the fuck away from every damn feeling that girl, Mandee, brings up in me.

As she looks down at me, my glasses slip. She tries to catch them and nearly falls down the hole.

“Mandee, pay the fuck attention,” I snap, and her face contorts into one that seconds ago was happy, tearless, kind of in awe of this little tree shack, to sad again.

I let out a breath when she steps back. I feel at ease knowing she’s not going to fall, but pissed she looks sad again.

I climb the ladder, knowing I need to make sure she knows that. Once my feet are solid on the ground, I kick off my boots and look left. She’s standing at the little window, facing the water.

I walk up behind her. “You’re not very damn steady on your feet. Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She glances back, searching my face as if to see that I’m being honest, and then nods and looks back out the window.

“What drove you here?” I ask, not knowing if I will be able to say anything to ease her burden, yet unable to hold back the question.

She shrugs. “Argument with my dad? Missing my mom? I came here a lot when I was younger. I didn’t realize it was Falcon land.”

I want to ask her a million questions, something I don’t do with women because, you do that, they talk. They talk a lot, and then you have to fucking listen, and then they think you give a fuck. I don’t give a fuck. I know what drives women straight to the disillusion of love. I made the decision a long time ago not to go anywhere near the fucked-up idea that any of that was real.

I’m not a stupid man. I know love is real. The kind of love you feel for family. The amount of love I feel for my nephew, who also asks a lot of fucking questions, but I actually want to answer him, and to hang with the little dude. The part about trust, one man, one woman...forever? I don’t believe it for one minute.

But, looking at the back of her, as she stands at the window, looking at the lake, I can’t help thinking of the girl coming out of the lake, which sparks a memory of getting off.

Fuck.

She’s shaking, goosebumps all over her lightly tanned skin. Instinctually, I reach out and rub my hands up and down her arms to warm her. Her body stiffens, and she looks back at me. I keep my eyes trained on my hands touching her skin, not wanting to see a disapproving look, and not wanting to see an approving one, either.

I fucking wish it was dark. Actually, I wish I was drunk. I could excuse this away, but right now, touching her, here, it fucks everything, right or wrong. Just fucks everything.

“Gray?” she whispers.

“You’re cold,” I tell her, still rubbing her arms.

“Yeah,” she says and turns back away from me while I continue rubbing her arms.

As she relaxes and leans in a tiny bit, I take that opportunity to pull her closer until she’s leaning against me, while begging my dick to stay the fuck put.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“Friends do this shit, right?” I ask.

She nods.

I wrap my arms around her, hoping like hell I can make those blue lips turn back to what they should be. “This?” I ask.

She sighs and nods again.

Standing here, holding her, getting her warm and dry, is honest to fuck what I want. I like her. She’s sweet, fun, innocent? But the part of me that is now growing wants her not warm, but hot, and not dry, but wet in a different way.

Her head now rests against the base of my neck. She smells fucking clean, good, almost floral. Not what I’m used to. Women I have this close smell like beer, sweat, and if I see them again, regret.

Christ, she’s fucking sexy.

“Um, Gray?” she says, pulling back a little.

“Yeah?” I ask, not letting go.

“Your um...thing.” She pauses, and I realize the “thing” she’s talking about is now pressing against her back.

“I could easily give you the ‘hey, my name is Billy Boy’.” I sigh.

I expect her to be pissed, but she giggles silently.

“You’re hot, Mandee. I’m not gonna bullshit you, so either tell me to let go or ignore it.”

“Am not.” She stiffens, my cue to let go.

“My dick says otherwise,” I tell her. Talking sex is easier than talking about the fact I like her, because, well, I do.

She turns around and looks at me. “Don’t they all?”

I have no idea why her saying that pisses me off, but it does. I don’t want this girl, Mandee, talking dicks.

“What do you know about dicks?”

She rolls her eyes, her cheeks turning pink. Sexy as hell, too.

“I may not have one, but I’m no virgin. I’m sure you’ve heard all about—” She stops when I cover my fucking ears then laughs. “You—”

“I don’t wanna hear about my first chick friend getting fucked, especially if it’s by that fucking Blue guy.”

She shakes her head back and forth and scowls slightly. “Blue and I haven’t...” She pauses, and I’m relieved, yet I have no fucking right to be. “I haven’t in two yea—” She stops and sighs. “When I was in college—”

“No, stop that, too. I don’t wanna hear a damn thing about frat boys and shit.”

Our eyes are locked, and we are both clearly searching the unanswered questions in the words that just fell out of my fucking mouth.

She breaks the silence with, “Why?”

I don’t want to answer a question with bullshit, or when I have no real fucking answer, so I don’t. Instead, I shrug.

“You need to get warm.” I point to the bed. “Go cover up.”

She doesn’t even question me with words or her eyes this time; she just goes.

Once she’s in the bed, covered up, she starts shivering even more. “Cold.”

“Lose the wet towel,” I suggest.

She does. Then she closes her eyes tightly.

I turn around and lose my jeans and wet shirt. I walk over to grab some clothes off the little table and hear chattering. I look over my shoulder.

Blue fucking lips, teeth chattering.

I walk over and climb in beside her before pulling her against me. She lets out a breath as she takes in the heat from my body.

“Freezing,” she says as she moves in closer.

“Should be better soon,” I say, feeling completely selfish for wanting her to keep moving closer, closer, closer.

I hear pings on the tin roof. Each moment, they come harder and harder.

“It’s raining,” she tells me quietly.

“Yeah,” I say, and she sighs.

It continues coming down. I know damn well the sun was just shining bright as hell when she was floating in the water.

“Gonna have to let it pass,” I tell her.

“Okay.”

§

I wake up wrapped around her, her wrapped around me, and although it’s foreign as hell, it feels fucking good. Surprisingly, I am without a hard-on.

I watch her, listen to her, feel her body, soft and smooth skin against mine. The blanket is thin and has fallen enough that I am able to witness the rise and fall of her tits. This is one of the few moments I have felt like there was a God.

The white silk covers her enough but not enough that I don’t have to remind my dick that this girl—woman’s—set of tits belong to someone who, in such a short amount of time of knowing her, means something to me. Something more than every other person, unrelated, who has a hot, wet place to hide in, to bring on that one feeling that makes everything, everyone, in the world disappear for even the shortest amount of time, has. She’s my friend.

Her little sleepy moans, her hot breath against my chest, her scent, and her hands that move across my body when she moves is fucking with me hard.

Lips on dick, dick in pussy, hands on dick—that’s all the fucking touch I allow. This, her—fuck, it feels good. Like a pat on the shoulder or back from family, a quick hug from them, but still much fucking different, almost better.

Her lips are deep red again, and when she licks them in her sleep, she swipes her tongue along my chest, too.

I have no fucking control over my dick now. Thinking of her tongue on me has me hard instantly.

Her knee rises up my leg, pushing against my dick, and I try to figure out how to untangle us without waking her. I want her to be here, to sleep, not cry. I want her warm, not cold. I want her here to smell, to listen to her little noises, and sleep skin to skin next to me.

Want it so fucking bad.

I close my eyes and try not to think about wanting inside her, trying to bring down the fucking redwood between my legs that her knee is touching. No way in hell will she not notice that me, Grayson Falcon, is hard as fuck.

She takes in a deep breath and swallows hard. I feel these long lashes that, when I first met her, I would have sworn were fake, but I know they aren’t, brush against my skin. Then...Then she stiffens, and I know she’s awake.

I close my eyes, not wanting her to know that I am, too.

I feel her lashes again and hear a whispered, “Oh God.” But she doesn’t move away, and I try not to move an inch, even though I know damn well I’m growing inches in places she is sure to feel against her.

After several little sighs and squirms, her breaths get a little harder, my dick doing the same. I know there is no sense in hiding a damn thing.

I open my eyes and look down. She looks up at the same damn time, her eyes fucking cloudy. I’m not talking it’s about to rain teardrops type of clouds, either.

“You can’t look at me that way,” I warn.

“What way?” she asks, then swallows hard.

“Like you want to fuck,” I answer honestly.

She bites her lower lip, chews on it a bit while looking down at her hand resting over my nipple piercing.

“Why did you do this?” Then, well, then she fucking tugs it a little.

Fuck...

“Looks good,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Why do you have sex with a different girl every time you come in the bar?”

Teeth still clenched, I answer, “No strings, and I like to come.”

Her eyes widen, and I swear they get even cloudier, right before they get droopy.

Fuck, I know that look. It mirrors mine. But she’s not me. She’s Mandee.

“Can’t look at me that way,” I warn again.

She again asks, “What way?”

“Like you want me to fuck you,” I say as I close my eyes.

“What if I do?”

My eyes open really damn quick, and I look at her. “Is that what you want, Mandee? You want me to fuck you like I do them?”

Hurt flashes in her eyes, but only briefly, and then the heat is back.

“You don’t want that from me,” I say, moving my hand from her waist to her ass and gripping it. “You don’t want me to bend you over and fuck you like that.”

She swallows. “Maybe I do.”

I squeeze her ass a little tighter, and her breath hitches. “You want my cock shoved inside you, not giving a damn about anything else but coming?”

She gives a quick shake of her head. “I haven’t had sex in nearly two years. I don’t want to be like one of them. But I want—”

“I don’t do relationships, Mandee,” I tell her, loosening my grip, then pulling her closer so her crotch is snug against my hip.

She whimpers and rests her forehead against my chest. Holding her breath, she’s silent for a minute, and then, “I get it.”

“You get what?”

“That you don’t want me in that way. That I’m not...” She pauses. “That you don’t pick girls like me.”

I roll my hip just a little so it pushes against her, and her body tremors at the connection. “By girls like you, you mean ones I know damn well are too good for what I’m looking for”—I squeeze her ass harder—“who deserve a guy who wants to make them his, because I know damn well you don’t want my dick to split you open, to get you ready for Blue boy.”

“It’s not like that with him,” she whispers.

“Like what?”

“I want what you have. I want to be fucked, Grayson. I don’t want someone who thinks they have to love me. And I don’t want someone who just wants to fuck me.” She looks up. “Does that make sense?” Then she looks down again.

“Not one damn bit,” I answer.

“I’m not fragile. I’m not a damn doll. I’m not...” She sighs. “I have needs.”

We stare at each other for a long time. I am ready to say to hell with it.

“I’d give you every fucking inch of my cock. I’ll fuck you while I’m here, if that’s what you really want. But I’m not one hundred percent sure it is.”

“It is.” She nods. “I promise, and I won’t tell anyone.”

“You need me to fuck you?” I ask, rolling my hips again just to watch her eyes roll and hear that moan.

“I do,” she whimpers.

I lean down, ready to break a rule already, because as much as she needs fucking, I need to kiss her beautiful mouth.

She swipes her tongue over them as I lean in.

“Mandee? Mandee?” I think I hear and lean back.

“Did you hear that?” I ask, sliding her leg off me and start to sit up.

“I don’t care,” she says. “Please. I don’t—”

“Mandee? Mandee?” we hear again.

We look at each other, and then we both get up off the mattress and hear it again. This time, it’s just a little closer.

I recognize the voice. It’s fucking Blue.

I reach over, grab her dress, then toss it to her. Then I grab a pair of jeans and pull them on.

“I still want this,” she whispers as she pulls her dress over her head.

“Well, if that’s the case, you need to make sure you fucking remember I didn’t preheat that hot, wet little oven of yours for him to slip the meat into. I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you better than anyone has or will, but—”

“I swear she’ll never know.”

I know she’s talking about Phoenix.

“I’m talking about him. He doesn’t get to touch your body. The second my cock is splitting you in half, that motherfucker doesn’t even get to cop a feel.” I head toward the hole leading to the ladder. “And this place, he doesn’t get to know about it, either.”

“I promise, I would never.”