FIVE
~Mia~
I still couldn’t believe how perfect everything had been since Jace’s recovery. In only a few short hours he’d brought back that sensation that anything was possible with him—that magic—and dashed away all the worries and fears that had started to take root while he’d been “out,” as he’d called it.
“Did I miss anything good while I was out?”
“Have any startling revelations while I was out?”
“Did Danny take over the Crows and change our gang’s colors to a rainbow while I was out?”
In that short interval—between us sitting in a fancy auditorium that neither of us were dressed for and him being “out”—things had turned around so completely that I had a hard time not believing it was all some vivid dream that would turn my life sour the moment I awoke to realize it was all a lie. But I didn’t wake. Instead, things just kept getting better and better. That Jace was awake would have been enough for me, but then he was taking me out—Already breaking the rules—and we were together. Then we were splurging. And then he was surprising me. All in that short interval. I thought back on it, on that divide, and remembered the inverse—that imaginary line I’d drawn back in the hospital’s waiting room that divided him from us—and felt an overwhelming sense that everything had been inverted for the better. Fear turned to hope; hate to love; and terrible imaginary barriers between life and death becoming lines of impossible enchantment that Jace leapt over with careless abandon, my hand clasped in his every step along the way.
It was the sort of thing that fairy tales were built on.
But wasn’t that just the story of us in a nutshell already?
The fanciful yarn of an imprisoned whore and an outlaw prince and how they’d come to save one another from one awful drug-peddling ogre pimp.
Certainly sounds like something the Grimms would have spun, I thought reflectively as the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the scarlet curtain dividing the audience from the actors—dividing us from them—began to part and rise. There was applause, and a whimsical, convoluted logic told me it was for us. This, of course, was foolish, but I accepted the praise all the same as I cozied up beside Jace all the same.
In just a few short hours Jace had gone from being “out” to taking me on a surprise ride in a stretch limo to see The Phantom of the Opera. In just a few short hours he’d not only fixed all that was broken but set a new level of enchantment. In just a few short hours…
It had all felt so surreal even then. And now, two days later, that sensation had only been amplified. The events of that evening divided the events that came before it with such an aggressive and definitive line that it felt in retrospect no different in memory than the difference between sleeping and waking. As such, it felt like everything before had been some sort of twisted nightmare. It seemed so easy to think of my brother’s sudden appearance and just as rapid disappearance as nothing more than some walking night terror that I’d played out that afternoon.
Could it have been my imagination?
Morbid visions of a Christmas Carol—of me as some modern Ebenezer Scrooge and Mack playing the part of the ghost of Christmas past—came to mind. I replayed the memory and imagined myself reciting modified excerpts:
“You’re nothing more a wisp of whore’s guilt: a John I cheated out of twenty extra dollars, a faked orgasm, a little white lie to a big black man. There’s more of ‘his story’ than history to you, Mack!”
“Bah!” I whispered to myself with a smirk, “Humbug!”
All a dream. All just a very bad dream.
And all of it behind me now.
I really wanted to believe that.
And so I did.
I leaned back against the couch, listening to the sound of Jace’s voice as he finished up a phone call with Danny. From what I could hear, it sounded like business was doing well. The Crow’s routine had picked up and, according to Jace, was as it should be. From the sounds of things, everything was once more as it had been. With a few decidedly golden differences, of course. Things were going so well, in fact, that I caught myself wondering if the Carrion Crew would just back off entirely; fade into darkness and then, maybe, fade away into history. I chewed my lip, knowing that it never would be that simple. Hell, I already knew that it wasn’t that simple. Jace’s laid-back demeanor was proof enough that he was still unaware of some details, and I wondered why Danny had chosen not to bring up what his intel had found about the Crew and their activities.
Not that it would take a genius to come to the same conclusion. I mean, hell, we’d have to be idiots not to know that they’d be sore about losing T-Built and two of their biggest cashflows overnight. Sex and drugs had basically been the wings keeping the Carrion Crew aloft, and Jace and I had clipped both in one fell swoop. I was sure that Jace knew that they’d be up to something after that. But he didn’t speak a word of it to me and, from the looks of things, Danny wasn’t speaking a word of it to him.
Was it that there just wasn’t enough information to go on? That everything at this point was speculation and theory and he wanted something more substantial before going to their gang’s leader?
Or maybe Danny was just letting things get back on track—letting a pleasant moment come to pass—before letting reality come back into play to muck it all up again.
I could appreciate both of those scenarios, especially since it gave me more time to appreciate the fairy tale I was living in. Moreover, it wasn’t my place to ask. I certainly wasn’t ready to rush back into business.
Not when everything was going so perfect.
Besides, the doctors—who hadn’t been thrilled with Jace’s “vanishing act” but were, all the same, glad to hear that he was feeling better—did say to keep stress to a minimum. Danny probably had the right idea in keeping the news of the Carrions to himself due to that fact alone. I couldn’t imagine what kind of stress telling him that my brother was out of jail would put him through. I remembered the look in his eyes when I’d told him how I was working to pay off my brother’s debts. Even then—even before everything that had happened since—he’d made his feelings clear about how he had felt towards Mack. If I told him about my encounter there were two strong possible outcomes:
One—he’d relapse, wind up in the hospital again, and I’d be plunged back into that nightmare.
Or, two—he’d take to the streets with a vendetta, try to track down a man who very well had kept to his word and skipped town, and wind up stirring up more trouble for himself than Mack was worth.
With those two very real possibilities hanging over my head, I felt I was justified in choosing not to tell him.
And, for all I knew, Danny was making the same sort of decision on his end.
But it still meant I was keeping secrets from Jace—in essence lying to him—and there was a heavy, cold lump in my gut from that.
If I hadn’t hated my brother for everything before that moment, that he had me lying to the man I loved now was enough to carry me past that point. There was no denying it now: I hated Mack. Like a black cancer throbbing and writhing in my brain, even knowing I shared blood with that man—and I used that word lightly in my own head—was enough to make me hate myself a little more than I already had.
And then there was that infernal argument he’d dredged up…
While, yes, I had met Jace because of my “work,” there was no retribution to be found for him there. He had ruined my life. Maybe he was blameless in the direct sense. Maybe it had all just been a big, ugly circumstantial mess. Maybe our being siblings was enough and the Carrion Crew were the sole architects of the hell I’d been plunged into. Or maybe not. Either Mack shared some of the blame for what had happened to me or he had none. Either way, I’d give him no credit for me finding Jace. I’d been working to make something of myself, was working for a career and all of that got thrown away one single night. The night T-Built and his lackeys had shown up at my door and threw the ultimate ultimatum at me:
Work for them and save my deadbeat loser of a brother or die.
Not much of a choice, was it?
I’d blamed my brother to a degree for letting his debt get out of control to such a heinous degree, but a part of me had held back. Like a mentally feeble person wandering into traffic and causing a pileup or an unknowing child manhandling a loaded gun and shooting his friend in the face, there was only so much blame one could lay down in such a circumstance. After all, the mentally feeble person didn’t know to look, the child didn’t know not to play, and Mack hadn’t known that his sister would have to sell herself to save him.
That’s what I’d thought, at least…
But the Mack who’d caught me off guard the other day had been so cold, so dark, so…
I remembered those eyes—our eyes—as they all-but caressed my body and I felt a shiver rocket across the divide of time and creep up my spine like an icy spider trailing stabbing legs along my back.
There’d been no sorrow in him—in those eyes—and there’d been no remorse. Just barbed words and a razorblade “warning.” And what had all those words and the warning amounted to? Go back? Get back on the corner; get back to selling your pussy if you know what’s good for you?
Mack had always been an awful person, I could admit at least that much, but how had I gone so long not seeing that level of darkness living just across the hall? And, just like it didn’t take a genius to know the Carrion Crew must be up to something after everything Jace and I had taken from them, it didn’t take a powerful mind to wonder if such an awful person might be capable of something more.
Was it possible that Mack had had more involvement in my abduction? Was there more than just our being siblings to blame for me being forced onto that street corner?
And, if so, what was I prepared to do about it?
I shook at the thought, looking down to see my hands clenched and took a deep breath, working to relax. I didn’t want to let Jace see me like that; couldn’t let him see me like that. He needed a stress-free life to recover from everything that had happened, and—dammit!—I was going to give it to him. I owed him that much.
I promised myself that there would be plenty of time to worry over these matters later, and that seemed enough for my subconscious to let go of the bitterness. For now. For now I wanted to just enjoy this moment of peace…
This moment of oblivion with Jace.
“Hey,” Jace called, “you okay?”
I looked up to see him standing over me. I blinked. How long had he been standing there? I hadn’t realized just how out of it I had been. I started to shake my head in an effort to shed off the lingering bits of the dark thoughts, thought better of it at the last moment—not wanting to imply that, no, I wasn’t okay—and forced myself to smile and nod instead.
Stupid! Stupid! I chastised myself. You just said how you didn’t want to worry him! Dummy!
“Y-yeah,” I lied, and cringed a little at that fact, hating Mack all the greater for it. “I’m fine. Just… out of it.”
“Mia?” Jace kneeled in front of me, moving his warm hands to my face.
I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes at the peace he brought me from just a small caress. “I’m fine,” I repeated as I opened my eyes, looking into his warm gaze. I felt a little better realizing that that gaze made the lie a little less of one.
“You promise?” he asked, his gaze falling to the floor in concern. “You looked pretty upset a moment ago.”
“I’m okay, really!” I said. “It’s just, well, sometimes I still have flashbacks to the fire and everything, I guess. It was pretty scary, that’s all.”
“I understand,” he sighed, moving to sit next to me.
“So, what did Danny want?” I asked, quick to change the subject.
He raised an eyebrow and I wondered if he was going to question me more and I silently smacked myself. I couldn’t be any more obvious with wanting to change the subject. I looked down at my hands, looking anywhere but at Jace.
Though it felt painfully obvious—seemed like an absolute certainty that he’d see through the lies and press me further to confess—he seemed appeased by this and gave a subtle shrug. “He just was going over business,” Jace began as he placed his hand over my thigh. “Nothing too serious, honestly. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
I looked up at that and relaxed almost instantly at his words. It was dangerous just how much power he had on my emotions. But that’s the life I lived now, right? One of danger. And if I was going to give anyone complete control over me, it would be this man right here.
“So everything’s okay?” I asked.
“Everything’s A-okay, babes,” he answered.
I nodded, satisfied by the answer but for all the wrong reasons. After all, I’d asked the question more to make sure that the wool was still firmly pulled over his eyes than out of any hope of anything being okay.
Hadn’t I only moments ago been thinking of how much like a fairy tale my life seemed to be? I thought to myself.
Somewhere in the dark forests of my brain—where trolls huddled under bridges and witches lived in gingerbread houses—my depression loosed a cackle.
Two can play at that game, I thought-shouted into that forest. Depression may have loved raping my good moods, but I had a weapon against such things.
I leaned forward, pressing my lips to Jace’s. He kissed me back, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and pulling me against him on the couch. Already I could feel the dark clouds in my head starting to break and disperse, but it wasn’t fast enough for my liking.
And, moreover, Jace’s kiss tasted so damn good; felt so damn good!
I needed more.
I needed this.
Right now.
I moved into his lap, wiggling a bit as I pushed him back against the couch. The skies in my mind turned blue—no hint of clouds in sight. I ground myself against him, gyrating knowingly, and the forests where Depression and all bad things lived suddenly felt a hundred miles away. I gasped, liberated at the freedom from my own thoughts this man’s touch bestowed upon me, and I grinned at the familiar feel of him between my thighs. Even through both of our pants, I still felt him awakening to my efforts. He groaned as I gently thrusted against his hips and I shivered as he moved his hands back to my waist, this time stopping me from moving any further.
I looked up, suddenly worried that my escape from all of that would be halted, and I felt a pout on my lips. “What?” I asked, suddenly aware of just how much I was craving him. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Really. I just… I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go out before… well, before you started all this.”
“Well,” I paused for a moment and then grinned wickedly. “We can go out after this.”
He nodded, grinning at my answer and already beginning to work the buttons of my shirt open. “Alright,” he agreed, his breathing starting to come out in frantic pants. “After. I like after, too.”
With nothing more to stop us, we lost ourselves in the familiar passion we’d come to know so well already.
****
“So, where are we going?” I called over the roar of the engine as we sailed down the interstate on his motorcycle.
“You’ll see,” he called back, moving his free hand to my two hands, which were wrapped around either side of him and clasped below his chest, and squeezing them gently before returning it to the handlebars.
I smiled, squeezing myself to him tighter. The sex earlier had worked to chase away all the darkness that had begun to creep into my core, and, still post-coital, the already invigorating process of riding with Jace took on an elevated sensation. Grinning into his back, I toyed with the idea of confessing that I was drawing dangerously close to having a “moment” but decided it was the sort of erotic distraction that might lead to an accident.
I’ll tell him later, I promised, letting myself get lost in the feel of the engine as Jace continued to weave through the streets.
After all, he needed this ride as much as I wanted it.
We hadn’t been out on a drive like this since before the incident with T-Built. I had worried that it was too soon and that Jace was technically still in recovery, but even then, it hadn’t taken much convincing on Jace’s behalf.
I had, admittedly, been a bit reluctant about going out on his bike after he’d suggested it.
“If I’m fine enough to make love to you,” he had countered with a grin, nodding towards my well-fucked naked body, “then riding my bike will be no issue at all.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” I had tried to argue, though if my resolve had sounded as weak as it had felt I couldn’t be surprised that I’d lost the fight as easily as I had.
“That’s just because you don’t ride,” he replied. “Don’t worry, though. I plan to fix that, too.”
“Oh?” I’d said, quirking a brow at him.
“Mmhm. You’ll see.”
And that, as they say, had been that.
He wouldn’t hear any more and honestly, now sitting behind him as we raced down the highway, I couldn’t think of any reason why I’d been against this. The sense of freedom was back and the familiar peaceful oblivion that came over me was too great to ever believed I’d not want it. Coming back from a beautiful oblivion, I looked up as he turned off the next exit and I looked around, recognizing the area as the art district. We were beginning to slow.
“You gonna tell me where we’re going now?” I asked, slightly disappointed that the ride was almost over for the time being but still glad that I didn’t have to scream over the engine any longer.
“Nope,” he replied. I could hear the grin in his voice.
I sighed at the quick reply and pouted. Deciding to let him surprise me, I let my cheek linger a moment longer against his back, enjoying the feel and smell of his leather jacket. Along with the natural smell, the familiar scent of sandalwood and pine—Jace’s smell—had interlaced itself into the jacket. The combination was intoxicating and I found myself missing it as soon as it was no longer directly in front of me—a fact that I would have been embarrassed to admit aloud. It seemed an awkward fact, but I’d come to realize that every one of my senses was on high alert when I was with him, and I still didn’t know exactly how to properly handle the feelings that he’d brought out of me. Especially, I realized, since I should have started getting used to them by now.
Shouldn’t I?
As Jace pulled into a parking garage and parked the bike, I pulled back a bit, not wanting to embarrass myself by being caught huffing his jacket. He toed the kickstand out, steadied the motorcycle against it, and then moved off the bike with cat-like grace. I envied the sight of just how natural he was with the bike, with everything in his life. He had so much control and I wished I could have just a semblance of the grace he seemed to possess. He held his hand out to me and I took it as he helped me off the motorcycle. Catching my bearings, I looked around the area and once again wondered just exactly where Jace was planning to take me.
“You ready?” he smiled. “I had to take a moment too, honestly. It’s been too long since I last rode.”
“I couldn’t even tell, honestly,” I said, pouting slightly at just how easy he’d made it look.
“I hide it well,” he replied, offering a reassuring shrug and flashing a grin to match.
“So, you finally going to let me know where we are headed?” I asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Follow me,” was all he said as he took my hand and led me from the parking garage to the streets.
I looked up, seeing that the sun was already hanging low in the sky. I hadn’t realized how late it had already gotten and wondered absently how long we had been driving for. It hadn’t felt like that long but, then again, I did have a tendency to lose myself on the bike. And it wasn’t like I was keeping track of time then. He led us down a few side streets and I looked around, seeing that we were definitely in the heart of the art district. Statues and sculptures lined the streets, and paintings—both publicly commissioned and the not-so-legal-but-undeniably-stunning graffiti—littered the walls and billboards that surrounded us. I looked around in awe. Even there, outdoors, there was a certain air to the scene; something that would have felt familiar in a museum but without the stuffy sense of structure. The place was beautiful. Jace led me along, letting me ogle the surroundings while steering the two of us along. Then, finally, he slowed, and I, feeling the pace come to a pause, looked up. The shop, at first glance, seemed nondescript and neutral, but as I studied it further I caught sight of sign on a nearby placard that read:
“Annual Paint-a-Plate Couples Night!”
And, below this:
“Purchase any of our assorted plates or various ceramics and spend the evening painting with a loved one. Limited tickets available, purchase now.”
Frowning at that last part, I turned a curious eye towards him and asked, “When did you have time to buy tickets?”
“When I was thinking of what to do for our next date,” he explained with a dismissive shrug. It was a shrug I was used to seeing from him, and one that always seemed to accompany something incredible and seemingly difficult. It was his “I just perform miracles, didn’t you know?”-shrug. “Danny had suggested this, actually. He was the one who got the tickets for us, honestly,” he replied, running his hand over his neck. He actually seemed embarrassed by that confession. “I hope that doesn’t bother you that it wasn’t my idea.”
“Why would that bother me?” I asked, offering him a warm smile.
“I don’t know,” he answered, his face caught between guilt and confusion. I found myself endeared by this, realizing that he genuinely felt regretful that it hadn’t been entirely his idea. It only served to lend an even greater emphasis on how hard he was still trying to show me a good time. “Guess I didn’t want you to think it meant less or something”
“Don’t worry,” I kissed his forehead. “This sounds so fun! Let’s go!”
We walked into the store, seeing signs for the studio and followed them. A woman greeted us and Jace handed over the tickets. She pointed us over to where we would pick out what we wanted to paint and I was surprised at how much of a variety there was. I walked over, looking at the different styled plates.
“What catches your eye?” Jace asked.
“Well, I’m not the best at painting,” I said, chuckling nervously. “Maybe just a plate to start, right?”
“Good idea,” he agreed, also picking out a plate.
I was surprised to see how busy the event was. All seats were filled and as we moved to take our own, I saw that there were some amazing painters in the room. As we sat, I chewed my lip nervously, looking down at my blank canvas (or plate, in this matter).
“So, what should we paint?” Jace asked.
“Are we painting the same thing?” I looked over at him.
He shrugged and looked back at me, offering me a wide grin. “I hadn’t really considered that,” he looked back down at his own plate.
I saw a small laminated sheet in the middle of the table and grabbed it, looking down to see the “suggested” stencil patterns. The ideas seemed easy enough, and I figured with my limited abilities it would be better to take a suggestion than attempt to create something original. Finally, spotting something that I thought might be simple enough, I pointed.
“How about this?” I asked.
“The sunset?” he confirmed, nodding his own appreciation.
I glanced at it again, furrowing my brow. “Huh,” I hummed, “I saw it as a sunrise.”
Jace smirked at that. “All in how you look at it, I guess,” he pointed out.
“Oh yeah. That’s true,” I said as I considered this for a moment and realized, with a smile dawning on my face, that prior to our sex earlier that afternoon I, too, would have probably seen a sunset there. Then, worry suddenly creasing my brow, I said, “Should I be nervous that you see a sunset?”
Jace regarded me with those knowing eyes and that sly grin. “Maybe I like sunsets more,” he teased.
I giggled and gave a nod, deciding that, again, he had a point there.
“Anyway… yeah! I think that’s our design,” he agreed. “Seems simple enough, anyway.”
“Simple enough,” as it turned out, wasn’t simple enough.
Twenty minutes later, we were both looking down at our individual plates in a mixture of amusement and horror. What was supposed to be the “beginners” suggestion, had turned to a splattering of multiple colors on a plate. Realizing that we were both obviously a long way from even being considered decent beginners, we burst out laughing. Our “masterpieces,” or so the instructor was kind enough to call them, were nothing more than nonsensical smears of various shades that barely formed cohesive shapes let alone an identifiable image.
My sun, I realized with equal doses of humor and disgust, looked more like a bloody wad of sickness. Surrounding this, perhaps imagining themselves to one day represent clouds on a more talented artist’s plate, were what appeared to be a smearing of semen splatters. At least the mountains, which were little more than triangles in the original stencil, could boast that, indeed, they only had three sides and three corners. A triangle could aspire to little more, I decided.
Jace’s plate, however, could not even lay claim to a triangle. The mountains, like an extra chromosome in a fetus, sported an additional angle that deformed the entire product. What was likely an attempt at another peak had melted into a vision of something resembling a wart jutting from a browning recreation of Madonna’s cone bra. His sun, which was justifiably circular, was a bright and aggressive yellow that lent itself more to what looked like an unfinished smiley emoji than an actual sun. His clouds, however, looked more like clouds than the pseudo-pornographic depictions I’d created.
“Wow, we suck,” Jace stated flatly.
“Yeah, we really do,” I agreed, still working to collect myself.
“Well, what do you say we go get some dinner and nurse our bruised egos now that we’ve found out neither of us are artists?” Jace offered.
“Dinner sounds perfect,” I said.
Nodding, Jace collected our “mess-terpieces” in a gift bag—promising that we’d laugh more over them later in the privacy of his condo—and started out. “How much do you wanna bet that Danny knew this would happen?” he asked with a grin.
I giggled. “Is he a good painter then?” I asked.
Jace paused, considering, and then shrugged. “Dunno. Don’t think so, at least,” he confessed.
Considering this, I decided to gift the “mess-terpieces” to Danny. Either he was the artistic sort, and the plates would serve as a sort of twisted present or, at the very least, they’d represent an ironic “thank you” for the unique date. It had been his idea, after all.
“So, where to eat?” Jace asked, looking around the area as he did.
“Why don’t we just see where the road takes us?” I smiled.
He regarded me then with a sense of awe and admiration. I blushed, realizing that, in a part of town where everything was a work of art, he was looking at me like I was the most inspired vision he could find. There was something in that moment, being elevated to such esteem in that instant, that had me so honored by him that it terrified me immensely. To feel so adored when I’d basically grown accustomed to being nothing but a whore in everyone’s eyes was on par with being raised with aspirations of poverty only to discover you were a goddess.
Then again, I thought, recalling a mythology course I’d taken in college, what sort of beings marry goddesses?
“Good plan,” he finally said, pride sparkling in his eyes and lust tugging at a grin, and took my hand.
We walked a few blocks before coming across a street filled with a few different eateries. Looking around at the different restaurants, we settled on a small American Bistro that had a live band playing. Feeling this was pleasantly reminiscent of the night we’d spent at the Canal Days, we agreed that it was what the road had wanted for us and went inside. After being sat, I looked over at where the band was playing.
“Want to dance again?” Jace asked, following my gaze and obviously thinking the same nostalgic thoughts.
“Maybe after we get something to eat,” I smiled. “Though I’m still not sure how great of a dancer I am even after everything.”
“You did fine,” he gently squeezed my hand over the table. “Now, what should we order?”
“One of everything?” I offered, teasingly.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, sounding dangerously serious.
I decided not to, remembering just how much food he had ordered last time and just how much I had actually eaten. Thinking back to how concerned I’d been with gaining weight while working for T-Built, I decided I didn’t care if Jace ordered the entire menu. I’d gone long enough worrying over any little thing I put in my system and while I wasn’t looking to gain a ton of weight or anything, I wasn’t going to hold back like I used to.
I relished in the freedom Jace had given me once again.
While Jace had refrained from ordering every item on the menu, our table had still been covered in plates when he’d been done. I was once again surprised at just how much of the food we had cleared, and I smiled, leaning back against the booth.
“I don’t see myself dancing now especially,” I laughed.
“Aw, come on,” he smiled, standing. “Just one dance?”
I looked over as he held his hand out to me and sighed playfully, knowing I couldn’t say “no” to him. I took his hand and was instantly whisked out to the dance floor. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he moved me across the dance floor expertly and I wondered absently where he’d learned to dance.
One dance had apparently turned into five and by the time we had finished and were making our way back to the booth, we were both breathless and exhausted. A crowd had formed once again, and we’d had to work our way back through a crowd of applause and praise. The whole experience felt eerily similar to that one night; my mind once more toyed with the worry that this was all just a dream, but I couldn’t bring myself to resent such a wonderful moment—whether or not it was real. I watched as Jace finished paying the check and after another round of compliments from the crowd, we were finally able to leave.
As we stepped out of the bistro, I was surprised at how dark it had gotten. I hadn’t even realized we had been out for as long as we had. As Jace led us back to the parking garage, I smiled giddily, knowing somehow that the night was nowhere near over. Jace’s cat-like reflexes played back in reverse as he mounted his motorcycle, and he smiled back at he as I followed suit—feeling much less graceful in doing so.
“Hurry back home,” I purred in his ear. “And I hope you’re ready for Round Two.”
“Yes ma’am!” Jace said, hitting the ignition.
We both made no mention of the obvious tremble that passed through his body a moment before the engine loosed its first growl.
****
I could feel the excitement grow as we sped through the highway, heading back to Jace’s—Our, I corrected myself—condo. I closed my eyes, loving the feel of the night air hitting my face as Jace expertly wove through the streets.
It wasn’t long before Jace was parking the bike once again and we made our way into the lobby. Jace and the doorman traded nods and a handful of friendly words—none of which slowed our steps as we hurried, horny, towards the elevator.
I pounced Jace before the doors had closed to hide my eagerness.
My mouth and my body came down on him in unison, capturing him in an inescapable frenzy. Judging from how quickly he pulled me in, however, I guessed he had no desire whatsoever to escape the onslaught. Our arms were locked around the other, our lips all-but fused and our tongues wrestling for dominance, refusing to give the other’s a moment’s dominance. As the elevator doors opened to his private floor, we more collapsed into his condo than actually stepped in. By some strange miracle we remained upright, though I had to unwrap one of my legs’ vicelike grip around his waist to stabilize us; momentarily creating an erotic tripod with our combined bodies and clumsily teetering towards the living room. Still riding on the bizarrely surreal fumes of grace bestowed upon us, we kept from hurting ourselves as we chaotically made our way around the sofa, which happily caught a few discarded strings of clothing that we’d managed to wrestle off the other.
For one perilous instant, thinking it was safe to pull my one leg out of the equation, Jace fell into a stumble. He grunted what could have either been a halfhearted “fuck” or a fully-invested moan into my open mouth, turned to catch us against the fast approaching wall—an airy-yet-indifferent grunt being forced out as he took the impact while still holding me up—and, without a moment’s reflection on the possible danger we’d just evaded, moved on up the stairs and towards the bedroom.
The entire time, neither of us broke the kiss, save for one moment when, possessed by some wild desire deep within me, I pulled away long enough to growl, “Fuck me like you want to break me!”
By the time we’d made it to the bedroom, we were both naked and panting with pleasure. Jace, eyes flashing like a predator’s, pushed me on the bed a moment before pouncing after me and recapturing my lips. I shivered and purred, arching against his touch. We both grappled for dominance before Jace managed to turn me onto my belly and I, groaning and stretching before him in a feline arc, submitted. I felt the air against me, cool and tantalizing against my dampened folds and the parted cheeks of my ass, and I wagged myself at him in a silent invitation.
“Wow,” Jace panted, and I felt him trace a finger from the base of my tailbone all the way down to the tip of my clitoris “Someone’s ready.”
A long, breathy moan oozed past my lips for the entirely of his finger’s journey and my voice, feeling smoky against my pant-ragged throat, asked, “Can you blame me?”
Jace let out a carnal sound—something ancient and lusty that resounded deep within my most primitive natures—and I felt his body drape over mine as he began kissing and nipping at my neck and the back of my shoulders. His hand slipped around my body, found my breast, and honed in on my nipple, working it knowingly. I gasped, an electric bite of pleasure jolting through me, and he caught me off guard with a bite to my collarbone that cut the sound from my throat while intensifying the pleasure it had signified five times over. I trembled, feeling the already substantial moisture between my legs grow and begin to run down my thighs. Trembling, my ass wiggled again, this time seeming to act of its own accord, and I felt a rigid length of Jace’s own need thrumming like the recently struck chord of some eager instrument achingly close to home. I gasped and whimpered, begging without words, as his teeth began to draw back—pausing only to let his tongue massage the area they’d once occupied—and I remembered how to make sound all over again. I was distantly fascinated by the realization that I would never get used to the feeling Jace gave me. Every touch was a brand new sensation and I was once again lost to him. He had complete control of me!
All of these thoughts, however, like Jace’s own carnal grunt moments earlier, came to me without words; gliding by in a haze that was more color and heat than coherent reasoning.
“Jace! You’re driving me crazy!” I panted, startling myself by conjuring actual words from a mind that seemed too fuck-crazy to make sense of anything beyond a whimper.
“Good!” he smirked, continuing his assault on my submitted body; his cock wavering just beyond where it belonged.
I moaned as he wrapped his arms around me in a purely erotic embrace, taking a tit in each hand and pulling me back against him. The feel of his warmth against my back and the dual sensations against my chest struck me all at once, and I cried out. My knees buckled, the machinery of my muscles seeming to short out from the flood growing just inches above them, and my entire body began to tremble. A low, desperate moan bled past my lips, and the same basic instinct that seemed to be driving both of us steered my hand down and back. Finding my prize, I gave his cock a gentle-yet-demanding squeeze; my little finger extending in a downward reach to caress one of his swollen balls. I told him then, without words, that I wanted—needed!—to feel him inside me SOON.
“Hurry, Jace! I can’t wait any longer!” I panted, deciding an instant later that “without words” wasn’t clear enough.
“Easy, love,” he said around heaving breaths in my ear. “I don’t want this to end too early.”
“Come on! Don’t tease me!” I pouted.
“Don’t worry,” he grinned. “You know I aim to please, baby.”
The second syllable of “baby” trailed off, and I felt the firm pressure of his chest as it trailed down my back. A vision of butter melting across a heat-slicked surface bubbled in my mind as he glided effortlessly down my body, trailing heated breaths and tiny kisses across my spine and along the tensed, corded muscles of my back. Then he was over the edge, his lips trailing along the curvature of my left ass cheek—a teasing nip of teeth pausing there as a playful spank came down on the opposite cheek—and then…
Oh!
I felt that breath between my folds an instant before the rest of his mouth caught up. And then he was tasting me. I more felt than heard his moans, and I felt a perverse sense of pride swell up from deep inside me as I realized he found me delicious. I shivered, felt a scream welling within my chest, and yanked a nearby pillow to my face in time to bite down and suppress the sound. The pressure intensified, and I couldn’t tell which one of us was pushing more into the other. His tongue dove further, gave a victorious swirl to claim its new territory, and then cycled back around. He hit every part of me perfectly. My body was his to command and I willingly relented to his control, howling like an animal into the pillow.
Turning my head and sucking in cool, fresh air, I panted out, “Jace! It feels so good!”
He moaned a response into my depths, and a moment later two of his fingers slid in my pussy and began to add a new layer to the sensations. He worked them deep, curling them and catching my hidden spot with a “come hither” motion that had my breaths coming out in tiny, squealing bursts. Then, after what felt both like an eternity and a second of pure heaven, he withdrew the fingers and, after a hesitant pause, teased at the entrance of my ass. My moan peaked and hitched in a startled gasp and hung there. Every nerve of my body froze, eager, curious what he’d do next.
Somewhere from deep inside of me, I heard a distant voice—my voice, though I felt more like a listener in that instant than a speaker—say, “Do it, Jace! Do it!”
And he did.
I was no stranger to this. My time on the street and the services we’d been expected to offer had left no part of me untouched. Not that I’d come into the “game” without experience, of course. I had, in my earlier years, prided myself for being brave and “experimental.” I’d come out of those experiences with a general appreciation for the variety of pleasures there were to be had, but anal had always proven itself something of a conundrum. In school, it was something boys had claimed with a sort of frantic eagerness, as though they were afraid that, at any instant, I’d change my mind and deny them any further play. And while some part of this might have been true, the overall experience felt marred from this mindset. By comparison, however, my time as a whore had made me outright crave the frantic desperation of the college boys. Johns, seeing some temporary ownership of my ass, seemed eager to claim its depths through sheer, angry force; as though they might chisel out some claim to something in exchange for their investment. Some were less aggressive than others, but none really made it the experience I felt it could be.
The ghost of a conversation I’d had with Candy haunted my mind as I felt Jace’s finger begin to gently work its way into my ass:
“If I ever find a guy who knows how to properly go about working the “other hole”, I’ll marry him in an instant.”
I felt the gentle probe dare another inch and there was a momentary bite of pain—something I’d come to know all too well. This time, however, rather than having to fight through the process, I felt Jace pause. The tightness held, plateaued, and trailed away—the pleasure left behind nothing short of intoxicating—and, sensing this, too, Jace went deeper, continuing to work his tongue as he did. The feel of his mouth on my pussy helped to distract from the initial process, and I trembled under new waves of pleasure. He seemed to read my mind as he worked; gently priming me with all the care and finesse of an expert mechanic working a beloved machine.
Fuck!
It felt so good! Still moaning, I felt my body begin to rock back against his adventurous finger, begging for him to go further. I heard him hum, a sound that was both intrigued and entertained, and he gave a little stirring motion inside me that had my eyes crossing and my breath hiccupping as a small orgasm. With nothing occupying my pussy at that moment, I became violently aware of every muscle that was working through the sensation; my depths working to milk a cock that it had been fooled into believing was there. My ass, however, was quite aware—quite eager—to take this new attention. I could feel myself gripping, pulling, at his finger, and after a short time of slow, methodic pumping with the one finger he slipped in a second. I gasped and let out a low, eager groan, feeling the last slivers of pain melt away as a new sort of desperation grew in its place.
The slow, testing thrusts turned to more confident pumps with his two fingers, until, at last, Jace was fucking my ass with his fingers. After that, I was lost to the passion. I let loose a loud moan as my release swept through me. He groaned, not stopping as he helped me ride out my orgasm.
“Oh my god! It feels so good!” I whimpered.
“Mm! Good girl,” he groaned. “Come for me, baby!”
I didn’t have time to tell him that a few orgasms had already come and gone under his radar, because the first of the big ones came at that moment. I shivered, continuing to spasm over him as my release poured through me. As I finished, he slowly began to withdraw his fingers. I felt my ass clench, not meaning for it to, as if frantic to keep him in. As they slipped free, a sense of total emptiness washed over me and I whimpered, feeling close to tears from it, and the only way to communicate the need was to frantically wag myself at him. I looked back, my vision hazy, and my hunter’s eye landed on his throbbing cock in an instant. He caught my stare, looked questioningly back at me. I nodded, no longer asking for it—beyond begging for it—but outright commanding Jace with my eyes to fuck my ass.
He had proven with his fingers alone to be able to do what no man before had bothered to invest a moment in trying. He stared back, seeming stunned by what he saw. Not about to stop the night there—knowing that he needed release as much as I was craving more—I moved my hand down once again, absently fondling his dick as I caught my breath.
“Mm, you know…” I started in a low, throaty purr, still pumping his cock in my fist as I did, “I always loved the idea of anal.” I blushed a little at the confession, stupid as that felt given my obvious display a moment earlier. “But I’ve never had it done to me right.”
“No?” he smirked, glancing down. “Well, I think we could fix that. I mean, if you’d like that is.”
“I would love that,” I said with a flirtatious giggle, freeing my hold of him and giving another inviting wag.
He shivered a little, looking excited and nervous all at once, and gave a cute little nod. Then I watched as he moved to a small drawer in his dresser and I saw him pull out a bottle of lube. I relaxed, realizing that he was working to be prepared. I couldn’t help but appreciate that he was working so hard to make sure I enjoyed this.
A moment passed as he worked a healthy dollop of the lubricant to first his cock and then over the still-sensitive ring of my ass, causing another ripple of pleasure to travel through my body. I heard another contemplative hum from him as he heard this—he still sounded intrigued at my responses—and I gave myself another wag, urging him on.
“Mm! Jace! If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come from just this!” I whimpered.
“Well, that’s a good sign,” he smirked. “I won’t make you wait any longer.”
I felt him shift, fresh warmth reflecting across my back as he leaned over me, bringing his lips to my ear. “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay?” he offered, sounding nervous.
I responded to this by pushing myself back, working to get his cock into my suddenly starving asshole. He gasped at my efforts, moaned, and promptly giggled at himself for seeming so nervous. Then, giving my earlobe a little bite, he lined himself up more carefully and applied just enough pressure to begin to breach.
I had been excited to see what anal sex with Jace would be like. A part of me had been certain this time would come—that either he or I would finally express the interest to the other and that things would move on from there—but my own nerves at what he might think and his own concern for how I might react seemed to keep the subject just ever-so-slightly out of reach. Between my ongoing mission to evade my history as a whore and his ever-vigilant dedication to freeing me from my over-sexualized past, we’d stalemated one another into avoiding this particular subject. But I could avoid it no longer, and, from the looks of things, neither could he.
And then I thrust back again. This time, knowing that he was on target, my effort was rewarded and I felt a delicious spreading sensation return as I took the crown into me.
It was decided then and there that I was going to marry Jace.
The two of us worked in unison, both of us pushing to drive the deed to its limits. His cock slid in slowly and steadily, and I could feel myself stretching around him. New depths were reached, opened, and rubbed. There was a heat, something bordering that familiar pain but, with the aid of the lube, not crossing the barrier into unbearable. In fact, with every new inch gained, I felt the teetering balance between pain and pleasure begin to tip. And, for the first time, it tipped in the direction of pleasure. Then, all at once, the scales tipped to one side; the once familiar side occupied by pain utterly nonexistent, and there was nothing but sheer, new pleasure to be had. Jace was buried to the hilt, and the two of us—our breaths held in mutual fascination at what we’d just done—lay there for a stunned moment.
“A-are you… alright?” Jace asked, his voice straining around a worried tone as I felt his cock furiously throbbing for him to continue. I could see the strain in control as he held himself. The chords in his arms stood out as he held my hips, holding himself back from moving. The sight undid me and besides, I was already ready for him to begin to move.
Despite every part of him likely aching to pump inside me, I thought, he’s holding on… for me.
Then, grinning to myself, I thought, Don’t make him wait any longer, Mia-girl.
I smirked, bucking back in response, letting his length glide almost all the way out before I slammed him back in, making myself moan as I did. That was all the go ahead he needed. He squeezed my hips tighter and began to thrust inside. I cried out, loving the feel of his cock filling my ass. It had never been this good.
“Oh fuck,” Jace groaned. “You are so tight!”
I panted, pushing back against him, not wanting to give him all the control. “Don’t… don’t stop, Jace! It feels so good!”
“F-fuck! Mia… st-stop!” he pleaded, shivering against me and gripping my hips tightly, “If you… keep moving like that… I won’t be able to hold back much longer!”
I moaned, whimpered, and struggled to still myself, allowing him to take control—to set the pace—not wanting this to end too early. Then, still gripping me tightly, he began a slow, rhythmic tempo; gliding along at a rate that rested perfectly between “too fast” and “too slow.”
Nerve endings trembled with desperation, wanting him to reach them faster before becoming suddenly aware of feeling vacant too soon. I was held there, perpetually suspended between two simultaneous desires that were perpetually fulfilled before being left once more in desperate need.
For a long, agonizing time I felt perched on a high ledge, held—but just barely—above a terrible plummet down a—
“O-oh fuck!” I whimpered, trembling, suddenly feeling the pull—the fall—fast approaching. “J-Jace… I’m-I’m… I’M GONNA… GONNA CUM!” I cried out.
“Me too!” he groaned, continuing to pump inside me, his pace beginning to quicken by teasing degrees.
My back arched so abruptly I worried I might fold myself in half, but Jace and his sturdy bulk was there to catch me as I came. A loud, guttural moan ululated from deep within me, the sound barreling out of my chest like a firing cannon and echoing out again and again as fresh waves rolled out through my entire body. Fireworks erupted throughout my insides, peppering across my skin—drawing gooseflesh in an instant—and the grand finale going off in my lower belly. Jace’s arms wrapped around me, drawing me close against him as he buried himself balls deep into my ass. One arm arched around, crossing to my opposite breast and clinging there, drawing out a wonderful ache, while the other reached down and worked my clit. My empty pussy clenched under this new assault, the muscles thrumming as my ass continued to clench in quickening spasms. Jace’s breath sputtered, grew into a hum, which grew again into a growl. Then he was howling with his own release, his cock pulsing deep within my bowels as he spent himself inside of me.
We finished out twisted, guttural song as we both rode out our orgasms, trembling and slipping back into the present.
The bed seemed to come back up to meet me—I was neither sure when I’d left it nor where I’d gone when I had—and I was glad for it. I fell, or so it seemed, face first into the soft, cushiony surface as Jace slipped free. A small, seemingly mocking secondary orgasm came and went as his softening length left me, and I was suddenly very aware of my ass clenching and releasing; a hungry gesture, I thought.
“W-wow!” I panted as we both came down from our orgasms.
“Wow… indeed,” he agreed, slipping to his side and working to catch his breath.
After a sustained moment of thoughtless reflection—a thing that only seemed to follow acts of sex and violence—I dragged myself out of the bed and stumbled on unsteady legs to the bathroom.
Despite how wonderful that moment had been, there were certain realities that needed tending to.
Jace followed after and, seeming to understand what I was thinking, asked, “Join me for a shower?”
“I don’t know if I can handle anymore right now,” I said with a nervous chuckle, remembering what sort of antics typically accompanied an after-sex shower.
I had a terrifying moment of imagining the cum in my ass making an audible appearance during some sort of play and sullying the moment we’d just had.
Still smiling, he shook his head. “Nothing like that, Mia,” he said, and I suddenly realized he understood not only why I’d come in here but why I might be nervous. “I’m sure you want to, you know, wash up… or, rather, wash out. I just figured you’d like some company. Don’t worry. This will be just a shower, and I won’t laugh at any noises you make if you don’t mind me making the same.”
I giggled, and then burst out laughing. “Jace,” I sputtered around cackles, “did you just make a fart joke after anal sex?”
He smirked at me and gave me a playful, childish shrug. “What better time to make one?”
I laughed some more, shook my head, and challenged, “Just a shower?”
He gave me a look that was hard to read and said, “Of course.”
I smirked at that, wondering if I could truly trust that kind of promise when he was involved. If nothing else, I worried if I’d be able to be strong enough to fight my own desire once we showered. The night was going so perfectly and I hadn’t wanted it to end, plus I really did love showering with Jace.
“How you feeling? You okay?” he asked, helping me to the bathroom.
“I’m fine, really,” I smirked. “You really were incredible.”
“Get to know me,” he laughed.
He started the shower, carefully set the temperature, and then leaded me in. True to his word, he didn’t try anything; he helped me to wash, giving me little kisses here-and-there to stave off the potentially awkward moments and letting silly moments pass with giggles that I felt comfortable to share in with him. As wonderful as the act itself had been, the aftermath—what could have been embarrassing or awkward or outright unpleasant—became a moment that was simultaneously touching and humorous.
Knowing that laughter and comfort could replace loneliness and shame offered a new sense of freedom and happiness that I’d never thought possible.
And Jace gave that to me; gave me that and so much more.
He really was too perfect.
We finished washing soon after—too soon, we wordlessly agreed—and we lingered there, in his giant, wonderful “fucking” shower, and just seemed to meditate on each other’s company. He leaned forward, capturing my lips in his. The kiss demanded nothing; there was no need to turn it into anything more and no reason to let it stop. And so we just stood there, under multiple streams of serene warmth, and kissed. He wrapped his arms around me, and I relaxed against him, returning the kiss.
This kiss seemed to hold something completely new in it and a part of me was enthralled at the feeling. This kiss felt like a promise of something more.
The promise of a future.