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The girl would fuck him in exchange for shelter and protection.
Ross put the back of his hand under her nose. Still breathing, thank God.
She smelled good. Like she’d just showered. Ross touched her hand. Then her wrist. Yeah…Yeah. She was nice and soft. Her hair smelled like vanilla and cocoa beans. Like a chocolate he’d had one time in Aruba. He rubbed his nose in the coarse curls and his arms tightened around her. Warm, soft, woman. That was nice. That was real nice...
His other hand clutched his large stiff erection. It was the liquor. Making him stupid. Making him think…dirty things.
Little soft body. His dick was so hard. She would be wet. Jiggly. Warm. Tits. Smelling like vanilla…Would her pussy smell like that? Eating her pussy. God, just eating her pussy, sucking her clit, trying her cunt out a little with two fingers while her curvy thighs wrapped gloriously around his ears.
His eyes drifted shut. He stroked his dick a couple more times then forced himself to stop by gripping the sheet and thinking of that time Rebel convinced him to do a backflip off the Wheeler tailgate into their pond. Ross had been convinced at the time that a giant dick-eating lizard lived in that pond. Surely Roman’s inventive stories about giant dick-eating lizards had nothing to do with it. Ross went off the tailgate and sank to the bottom where Rain grabbed his ankle and made him swallow half the pond in terror. They still gave him shit for that. Bastards.
Distracted, his mind slid backward, doors closing in his head until the black surrender of sleep claimed him. Morning would come, the girl would leave.
Everything would be alright.
Little bitch…sneaking into his house. What the fuck did they take him for? He wouldn’t let this shit stand. This had to be resolved.Manny was so dead.
He held her tightly all night long, his thumbs occasionally brushing the hard little diamonds in her nipples.
Angel dreamedof a dusty city in the desert. Yellow wind and greasy smoke rising over a sprawl of houses all piled together. She stood on a corner watching cars pass by, but nobody could see her. She was hurt and bleeding. She’d run for a long time and she was so tired now. She wanted someone to see her, someone to help her. But she was alone. Cars passed by. People didn’t even turn their heads. Why wouldn’t anybody help?
A cold freshmorning dawned over Rowanville, Virginia. The sleepy city nestled in a valley of the Blue Ridge slowly came to life as the blue hour of dawn faded into day. Down the mountain pickup trucks rumbled into the city, and the routines of two hundred thousand people began anew for a Thursday like any other.
High up in Crown Vista, Angel woke up in a feather bed. She knew it was feathers from the smell of down, which was familiar to her, but she couldn’t say where. When she turned her head, her eyebrows coming together in a confused frown, a whiff of something else tugged at her nose.
Coffee.
Groaning, she sat up. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth and it took a minute for her eyelids to unglue themselves. Her arms and legs felt heavy as a bitch. She blinked into the gloomy atmosphere of the room, trying to make out where she was.
She saw a dresser with a framed picture of four men. Brothers? A man’s hairbrush, cologne, a rumpled old tie. The room smelled like aftershave and new sheets. She gulped.I’m in a man’s room. Okay.
My titties hurt.
“Hello?” she croaked. Her voice sounded like she hadn’t used it in months.
Suddenly the curtains pulled back, and a shaft of light burst into the room directly into her eyes. Ouch! She ducked her face into her hands. “Ahh! Damn,” she complained.
“Good morning,” came a deep male voice. Angel blinked up into the jarring brightness and a figure took shape, a great big shadow with a lot of curly hair.
Her jaw dropped.
“Woah,” he said. “Easy, darling, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Who are you?” She said, putting up her hands between them. “I don’t know you. Where the fuck am I? What’s going on?”
“Easy on the language, alright?”
“Motherfucker, I don’t know you! Get away from me!”
She looked down at her bare legs. All she wore was some little lacy white thing, like a fancy underwear. She plucked at the hem of it. When did she putthaton? She backed up from the man further.
“My name is Ross. I expect you’ll be confused from the sedative.”
“Thewhat?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said in a calm voice that drawled out like dark molasses off a spoon. But despite his tone she saw he was aggravated; his dark eyebrows slashed together and his freckled face and chest were turning redder. “Just relax, alright?”
“Okay. What’s your name?”
