13. It’s Not Love, Just Lust
“That Crock-Pot was a great idea,” Carmella says as we head out of the store. Turning to lock up after her, I nod my agreement.
“I should have bought one sooner, saving me money, and that roast was freaking delicious. Good job, sugar. Didn’t know you could cook.”
She grins at me as we approach my other baby. It’s a perfect summer day. The type where the winds are strong enough to push cool air from the coast onto land and chase away the muggy Florida heat.
“You got all your stuff?” I ask, watching as she swings the duffle bag off her shoulder and into the back of the car, followed by her beat-up baby-blue purse. That’s something else I need to replace for her.
“Yep, we will be back before nine, right? It’s already six.”
“I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” I lie. “Hey, you never got that drive I promised you. Want to take the top off?”
“Hell yes!” A smile splits her face.
“Alright, help me.” Pulling off the hard panels on the top of the Trans Am isn’t difficult, and I show her how. As Carmella slips the panel in her hands into the trunk, her hair falls over her shoulder and I’m hit by a tenderness I didn’t expect. Not for sex or obsession, but just for her company. Her time. The ability to touch her and hold her. To comfort her.
Squeezing my eyes against the familiar emotion, I rub my fingers across my mustache. I’ve been around the block enough times to know when I’m romantically fucked. Us working together, the closeness it fosters, and my rare need for nonsexual intimacy have once again plotted to ruin my life. Sex is just so much easier.I must be the world’s biggest fucking idiot.Sasha is going to kill me.
My stomach actually hurts at the thought of being in love again. Bending over, I brace myself on my knees and inhale slowly, hoping it keeps the spiking panic hidden. The alcohol and five-ish hours of sleep are making me an emotional pussy; that’s what this is.
“You’re not going to puke again, are you?” Carmella says.
“No.”
“Okay. You, uh, need help?”
“No.”
“Are you dying?”
“Carmella, get in the car.”
“Okay.”
The trunk slams while I practice learning how to breathe normally again. I can’t be in love. I mean, we barely know each other. It’s infatuation and loneliness. My need for a distraction from self-hate. That’s all.
Getting a straight answer from Carmella is like asking a hooker for her real name or trying to nail water to a wall. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend until I was two seconds away from telling her I’m her boyfriend.
Deciding it’s not love and just an obsession with a healthy dose of lust and affection doesn’t loosen the death grip on my lungs. Ohshit,I’m having an actual panic attack.
It’s been months since one made an appearance. They came nearly every day after Tracey left. Between the grief, loss of money, and threats, the nose candy, beer, and panic were my constant companions.
A ride out of town will air me out and help get my head on straight.
After righting myself, my lungs expand, and the slightly brackish air grounds me. My legs wobble as I walk to the car door and slide into the driver’s seat. Carmella gives me worried eyes but says nothing. Warmth from her skin soaks into my hand as I pat her thigh, a well-practiced smile firmly fixed on my lips.
Static blares from the radio as I connect my phone to the Bluetooth FM transmitter. Flipping to my favorite playlist, I turn on “Dead Inside” by Younger Hunger.
Seagulls launch themselves into the bright blue sky as we pull out of the parking lot.
Taking my normal route, we pull onto Seadrive Blvd. The wind whips through Carmella’s hair, the yellowing sky making it more golden than ashy. She closes her eyes and gives a satisfied sigh into the wind. This is where she belongs, next to the surf and under the sun, her natural element cleansing us both.
“This is nice.” Her voice floats to me.
I nod, fighting back the deep desire to lean over and kiss her. To bury all my aches and pains as I bury my cock in her. Instead, I light up a cigarette and smoke.
Shops line the main strip. Tourist traps decorated with surfboards and sandals pop up on every other street. Murals of sea turtles and sea creatures stain concrete in public places. The people are even more interesting, in various stages of being undressed or overdressed depending on the activities. Fancy diners in their long summer dresses head into reservation-only restaurants. Beach bums walk about in bikinis with and without unbuttoned jean shorts, and occasionally, an overly cautious tourist sits under an umbrella wearing a hat, full-sleeved swim gear, and bathes the few spots of uncovered skin with sunscreen.
As we drive out of town, the road opens up along the coast. I take the curves easy, soaking up the sunshine, the beach, the music, and Carmella. Feeling much more like myself, I can’t help but be in love with the moment.
The song changes, landing on another favorite, “Mol y Sol” by Brijs.
We drive a while more before Carmella speaks up, shouting over the wind, “Can I ride up there?”
She points to the leg part of the T of the Trans am top. Shaking my head, I give her a “fuck no” look.
“Please, for one second!” She laces her fingers and gives me a cartoonish pout that has me rolling my eyes.
She flops back in her seat, defeated, and stares out at the scenery. Her brow furrows. Leaning forward, she looks around curiously. “Hey, where are we? I thought we were going to the truck stop.”
Yeah, about that . . .
“You know what? I changed my mind. Just be safe and hold on.” My foot gently pumps the brake, and the car slows down to a more manageable speed.
Carmella requires no coaxing, and she scrambles to stand up in her seat. Watching her try to spider monkey on top of the car in two seconds flat while we hurdle down the highway gives me a heart attack, and I pull over.
Once she’s as secure as one can be while straddling a T-top, I look both ways and slowly pull out again onto the deserted highway.
“Go faster, Luke,” she yells.
Absolutely not.There is a rule I have about driving. I try to only break one vehicular law at a time. If I’m going to drive drunk, I wear a seatbelt. If I’m sober but refuse to wear a seatbelt, then I can’t have any substances, illegal firearms, or wanted felons with me. Also, I mind my turn signals and never speed. Breaking multiple laws at one time increases the likelihood of being arrested.
We are currently breaking several. But for caramel drop… eh, we’re rolling the dice.
Her tanned calf rests against my upper chest, and the crook of her knee is at eye level. I glance up when she whoops into the sky, causing me to drop the faux smile for a more natural one. The wind roars in our ears and rushes around her, tangling her curls and whipping them back into her face. With a smile brighter than the sun, she holds onto the T, tips back her head, and laughs freely.
The moment feels suspended in time. My seaside, summertime girl finally lets go and experiences the type of carefree fun she needs. This is where Carmella is meant to be: on adventures—experiencing life to its fullest. Untroubled and delighted. I want that for her.
Pressing a kiss at the point where the back of her knee attaches to her thigh, I smirk when she doesn’t pull away and give her skin a little flick of my tongue. I let the little daredevil stay up there another couple of miles before pulling over and making her get down.
The music shuffles to “Too Late” by the Happy Fitsand I sing along. She settles back into her seat as we pull out again. “That was awesome. Thanks, I’ve never done that before. Also, why did you lick my leg?”
“You’re welcome.” Maybe it’s the mood I’m in, or maybe it’s because I’m back on my bullshit, but part of me gloats that I’m giving Carmella some of her first.
We drive a while more before, out of the corner of my eye, Carmella”s smile falters. She squints around before turning to face me. Suspicion blankets her face.
“Hey, Luke, this is the opposite direction of the YMCA or the truck stop. Where are we going?”
“Alright, Magellan. You caught me. I wanted to do something nice to apologize for last night, so I’m taking us to a… spa. It’s about forty minutes outside of the city.”
Her face wrinkles as she glares at me so deeply that I pull away from her in the car. My head snaps back and forth between her and the road. What the fuck?
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asks.
“Nothing! It’s a spa with private rooms and big hot tubs. It’s a bathing house.”
“Hmmmm…” She pulls back, settling into her seat again.
“It’s nice. I promise!” Carmella takes her time studying me before replying, “I’ve never been to a spa before.”
I grin. “Baby, at this place, they’ll treat you like the guest of honor.”
But that’s only because women aren’t exactly common at men’s spas, unless you count the lot lizards and whores.I chuckle to myself.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I answer, “Nothing, caramel drop. Nothing at all.” Wary eyes rake over me before she goes back to watching the scenery.
Never been to a spa before. I smile, glancing over at her. What a sweet girl.
Carmella gets her first hint that Oasis Men’s Spa isn’t the type of spa she had in mind when I take the off ramp with the big XXX Adult Store and Men’s Spa sign flashing in neon blue and the shape of a woman bent over in yellow neon.
Her eyes grow wide and her mouth flops open as she stares at me in horror. “No.”
I draw out the o in, “Oh, yes.”
“But I… We… I can’t… I’ve never,” she sputters before falling silent.
A smile curls my lips, and I fail to keep the edge of naughtiness out of it. I knew she was going to hate it. “Of course you’ve never, caramel drop. I’d be surprised if you had. And yes, you can. Sweetheart, you’re with me. No one is going to bother you.” Except me.
We drive by the ladies loitering under Oasis’s turn here sign. Their tight, dark clothing, heels, and come-hither body language mark them for what they are. The steering wheel spins under my hands as I turn into the lot. Oasis itself glows green from the aesthetic lighting and the tropical plants up front. At the top of the building, yellow and orange neon lights flicker and grow into firework bursts, making it hard to miss from the highway. A sign flashes beneath the light display: Mega XXX Adult Store. Theater. PrivateRooms Available. Trucker Lounge. Semi Parking in Back.
Oasis has always reminded me of a flashy Vegas casino. It’s also a damn eyesore and a collecting place for the unwanted. Hence why the local city council threw a fucking fit and forced it to move forty minutes outside of town to the highway.
Carmella twists in her seat, eyeing the whores near the sign. “Can we please go to a truck stop?”
“When you think about it, this is kind of like a truck stop,” I say, pointing to the big rigs packed into the gravel parking lot off the side of the building and the sign on the roof.
I continue, “Plus, we are already here, and this place is great. All the sex toys I own I bought from here. C’mon, you’ll love it. They have a pool and a steam room.” Carmella stares at me like she’s never seen me a day before in her life. She doesn’t move.
Sighing, I grab our bags from the back and get out of the car. Walking around to her side, I open the door and offer her my arm. “Let’s go. Neither of us is getting any younger.”
“You’re not getting any younger, you mean,” she snaps.
“Don’t make me pull you from this car and spank you like a naughty girl. I’ll enjoy it too much and so will the men who can see us through the windows,” I say, eyeing the two-way glass that covers the entire front of Oasis. Carmella nervously checks the windows as if she can see the dirty old bastards. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I most certainly would, caramel drop, and I’d want you to suck my cock afterwards. We agreed to shower. Here we are. Get out.”
She turns her face up to me, big pleading eyes with long blondish lashes that flutter in my direction. “What if we make a deal, Luke? You love making deals.”
That’s true.“What’s your offer?”
She bites her lip and looks around the car. “I’ll… I don’t know.” She slaps her thighs with a pop and sighs, exasperated. “What do you want? No sex.”
Tipping back my head, I bark out a laugh. “What I want is for you to come inside and see that it isn’t as bad as you think.”
She makes a sound like my request is killing her and grumbles in my general direction. My eyebrows inch into my hairline at her tiny tantrum.
“Fine, let’s just go inside, and quickly. The faster we do this, the faster I get home.” She pulls on a hoodie from the back seat, tucks the curls inside, ducks her head as she shuts the car door, and straight lines it inside. My brow pulls down as I follow behind her. Her behavior makes no damn sense sometimes. Taking one last look at the hookers who wave to me, I follow her inside.
Oasis is a smut heaven for the dirty-minded. The front doors open directly into a sex shop filled to the brim with sex toys and porn. Swings dangle from the ceiling (I miss having one of those), and monster-inspired shaped cocks as thick as my forearm are displayed proudly on the wall. Double dicked dildos shine happily in their packages. I catch Carmella staring at one and wink at her. She rolls her eyes. That woman has no appreciation for my humor.
Enemas and flavored lubricants sit side by side on the shelves. Anal plugs and self-thrusting vibrators buzz wildly in the hands of customers at the sample table. Adorning the walls at the back of the store are the more serious playthings: whips, handcuffs, leather harnesses, needles, and, last, scalpels for those interested in blood play.
The things the owner, Ollie, keeps on the shelves for the public are pretty tame to what he sells in the back rooms. I know for a fact that his sexual tastes run more toward torture than porn. Not my kink and I try not to shame, but the dude is weird even by my standards. One good thing about him is he knows how to keep a secret and forgets a face as soon as he meets them.
As we approach the counter, Ollie looks up from the dirty mag he was browsing. Light reflects off his bald head. He’s a skinny dude, not bad in the looks department. The hookers seem to think he’s harmless. “Hey, Ollie, how’s it hanging?”
“To the right and halfway down my thigh,” Ollie chirps back. We share a familiar laugh and shake hands.
“Been a minute since I’ve seen you, Luke. How the hell’ve you been?”
I glance around, looking for Carmella. The sample table has caught her attention. She studies a self-thrusting vibrator as it inches its way across the tabletop.
“I’ve been good, man, busy all day and all night. Just how I like it. You?”
“Can’t complain. Free facilities, women outside, discounts on any porn I want? Life could be worse. Do you want your usual? I could send some company your way for an extra fee. Unless you brought your own.” He eyes Carmella. “She’s new. Young too. Not your usual.”
“She kind of fell into my lap and was in a tight spot. I’m taking it as divine intervention.” I laugh. ”Although for who, I’m not sure. The jury is still out.”
“Well, she’s about to be in an even tighter spot, I’d imagine, before the night is out.”
I snort. “You know it.”
The doorbell goes off behind me as a trio of road workers walks in. I can tell the moment the shortest one spots Carmella standing alone. He nudges his companions and tips his head her way. They check her out. My eyes narrow on their thick heads.
“I’m not gonna have any problems with you, am I, Luke?” Ollie assesses me out of the corner of his eyes as he rings me up.
I offer him a whole good-ol-boy-can-you-blame-me-they-were-checking-out-my-girl smirk. “Of course not, Ollie. Let me get a private room with a private spa. I want it for about… six hours.” My credit card slaps on the counter. That should put us getting back to the shop at one and we have work tomorrow. No going out with the telephone mystery man tonight, caramel drop. In fact, I may just block that number.
Old school motel keys jingle as he passes them and the credit card back over the counter to me. Carmella’s eyes snag on mine, and I nod my head to the hallway behind me. She takes a deep breath, pushes her shoulders back, and marches past me like she’s headed to the hangman or some shit. This woman needs a relaxing soak even more than I do.Fucking hell.
Chuckling, I let her get halfway down the hall before I flag her attention. “Where are you going?”
She stops and glares back at me.
Humor laces my voice. “Well, if you insist on marching off into the unknown all hot and bothered, pick a door.”
“No.”
“Pick a door.”
There are only four options. One, I imagine, is a supply closet or office. One lets out onto the public bathing area, if that is your scene. One leads to a theater that shows porn twenty-four seven, and one goes to the private rooms.
She lets out a heavy sigh and motions to the one in front of her.
She picks the porn theater. Grabbing the handle, I prop open the door with my shoulder. The cinematic surround sound of an orgy washes over us. Carmella peeks inside and is met with nothing but shadows.
She looks back at me. “This one?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
“What’s in here?”
Her skepticism cracks me up. “Go check for yourself.”
“It sounds like porn.”
“Then it’s probably porn.”
Carmella is calmer now as hostility gives over to curiosity. “Why don’t you just answer me?” she asks.
“Why don’t you go look for yourself?”
She huffs and steps inside.
Curiosity killed the cat, baby girl. The moment she’s firmly in the dark hallway, I let the door thud behind us, crowding her with my body.
Carmella plasters herself against me in an attempt to backpedal. “Luke, you fucking dick, why did you close the door? I was just going to peek.” I bite my lip to keep from losing it as laughter bubbles up. Her body is ramrod straight and full of tension, as if someone shoved rebar up her ass. I smother a laugh in her curls and push us forward.
A high-definition close-up of a triple penetration bukkake party slaps us in the face the moment the screen comes into view. Glancing down at Carmella, I see her stare slack-jawed at the three men trying to stuff their summer sausages into the same hole.
“I didn’t know places like this existed,” she says, her eyes still glued to the screen.
Bending down to whisper in her ear, I say, “Yes, but normally, they aren’t as nice. Ollie has some financial backing that I’ve never asked about, and you probably shouldn’t either. “
Speaking of sausages… Stepping wide, I give my growing erection a little more room. Taking a quick glance around the room, I note the couple in the back trying to sneaky fuck. The woman wears a dress and sits in her man’s lap like we all are blind and can’t see what they’re doing. A couple of lone dudes split their attention between the couple and the screen.
Pulling Carmella”s ass against my cock is divine, and I wonder if I could get her to come here again wearing that dress from last night. She might be too embarrassed with all the attention.
Carmella shoots me a glare as my cock digs into her, but doesn’t pull out of my arms. Hmmm, I’ve gained more ground than I thought I had.
Carmella must have noticed some of the guys not looking at the screen because her head swivels to the back, toward the couple, and suddenly snaps to the ground. Crimson creeps into her cheeks as her eyes round even more than they were already. One of the lone guys groans, bringing her attention back to him as he rubs his erection through his jeans and stares at the couple in the back.
She watches him, the screen, the couple, stares over her shoulder at me, and then back to him. Her face doesn’t change, but her breathing does. The rise and fall of her chest gets faster as the stranger unzips his pants and buries his hand inside.
Watching her watching them surprises the shit out of me and heats my blood to a boiling point. The soft material of her hoodie glides under my hand as I slip it down her stomach. Her warm hand wraps around my forearm but doesn’t make any move to stop my descent.
The stranger works his cock vigorously inside his pants.
My lips brush against the shell of her ear, sending tingles racing down my chest. My dick jerks and swells. Her fingers glide up my arm as I shove my hand between her legs and press my fingers against her pussy, rubbing roughly. Her breath catches.
“Do you want to cum?” My other hand snakes under her hair and wraps around her throat, tipping her chin back against my chest. The need on her face sends me spiraling. There is no mistaking the lust burning in her eyes. “Let me touch you, Carmella. No one can see us.” I unzip the front of her jeans and slip my thumb in between the parting material, running it over heated skin.
Carmella bites her red bottom lip. My eyes track the motion as the desire to replace her teeth with my own haunts me. My mouth hovers over her as her hot breaths fans against my face. I whisper the words, “Let me,” softly over her and slip more fingers through the parted material. Her tongue flicks out and licks her lips in invitation, and I know I’m lost. Our lips brush. It’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough. I need to drink her in, to drag the air from her lungs and replace it with my own. Consume her. Pulling her hair back gently, I slant my mouth over hers, but she’s gone, having turned her face away at the last minute.
I was so sure she was saying yes. She shakes her head and untangles us, skipping out on all I’m offering. She abandons me in the hallway.
Running my hand through my hair, I take a deep breath and lean against the wall. I know she wanted it. It was written on her face. What the hell am I doing wrong?