Chapter 11
ELEVEN
BECCA
I shiver, rubbing my arms as I wait for Butch to return. The building we’re going to be staying in is dark and damp and pretty sketchy looking. But I don’t see any mice, and we won’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on us, so I’m willing to overlook the less than stellar accommodations.
I’d for sure rather be here with him than sitting in that safe house with Owen and Luca. At least Butch lets me be involved in what’s happening. He treats me as more than just a defenseless, fragile woman in need of his protection.
That’s another reason I don’t mind being here. He’s including me in decisions. Listening to my input. Sharing his own. We formed our plan for what to do next together. Decided our next steps toward saving my sister and hopefully stopping other girls from being victimized.
I peer out the open back door, scanning the darkness for any movement.
I know the millions of cameras set up around the street will likely catch anyone trying to get in, but I need to start practicing diligence.
I need to start paying closer attention to everything happening around me.
Everything around us. Because I’m grateful Butch is letting me be a part of this, and I’m going to do everything I can to pull my weight.
I hear his boots across the worn floor, and turn, watching the shadows for the first sign of his arrival.
It’s not easy to decipher with my eyes, but I can feel the way the air changes.
The slight shift as I go from being the only person in the room, to having company.
I try to memorize it as much as I can in the few seconds it takes before Butch becomes visible.
Burn that odd sense of awareness into my brain in case I need to identify it again.
“Let’s go grab the stuff from the car so we can get set up and you can rest.” Butch pauses in front of me, his face barely visible in the shadows as he looks me over. “Are you going to be okay with this?”
“I’ll be okay with whatever I have to do to get Amanda back.” I can’t help but smile a little bit. “And it’s still going to be way better than that safe house was.”
“I’m a little concerned about what you consider better, B.” Butch rests a hand on my back, urging me outside toward the beat up SUV we brought here.
Together, we collect a load of the items we purchased before coming here—using cash—in preparation for this stage of our plan. Technically, we haven’t really figured out what the next stage is, but at this point we have to take it a step at a time.
And be prepared to pivot at any second.
I follow Butch through the darkness of the first floor, stepping carefully and quietly, using the pitch black trek to practice my sneaking skills.
“It won’t be quite this dark during the day, but since the windows are all boarded up, it’s never going to be exactly bright in here.
Thankfully Simon turned the power on when he parked his camper here.
” A faint glow emanating from a room in front of us, begins illuminating our path.
“But, that means we don’t have to worry about anyone being able to see inside.
” He steps into a room at the center of the level, setting his armful of boxes and bags onto the floor.
“For now, I think this is where we should plan on staying. Once the sun comes up and I can see a little more, we can figure out if there’s a better spot, but this room will be okay for tonight. ”
“Seems okay to me.” I set down my own collection of bags, propping both hands on my hips as I look the space over.
It’s certainly seen better days. The paint is peeling off the walls and there are holes punched in the sheetrock.
Cobwebs collect in every corner and the overhead bulb is dangling from a set of bare wires.
I can’t say I’ve stayed in worse, but that’s pretty irrelevant at this point in time.
“Why don’t you get started on the air mattress while I bring everything else inside.” Butch pulls a knife from one of the many pockets on his black tactical pants, flicking it open before passing it off. “You can use this to open boxes.” His lips twitch. “Or stab anyone who sneaks up on you.”
I look down at the blade, thinking hard. Could I actually stab someone? It sounds so aggressive. So violent.
So messy.
“I think I’d rather hit someone with a baseball bat.” Still aggressive. Still violent. Just way less messy.
Unless you have to hit a bunch of times and castoff goes everywhere, so I guess I gotta get a good first swing in.
Mental note: make the first hit count.
Butch narrows his eyes at me, not in a suspicious way, but an assessing one. “You know how to shoot a gun?”
I shake my head.
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “We’ll have to remedy that as soon as possible.”
Holy crap. Owen and Luca wouldn’t even let me do an Internet search, but Butch is going to give me a gun? I definitely made the correct choice climbing out the window.
As soon as he leaves, I get to work opening the box with the air mattress in it, being careful not to poke through the vinyl with Butch’s knife.
I pull the gigantic bed out, but instead of spreading it across the floor, I chew my lower lip.
The floor’s free of debris, but I can’t imagine it’s great for the mattress to be set directly on a hard surface.
I probably should have bought a rug to put under it while we were out, but it’s too late for that now. I’ve gotta make shit work.
I dig through our bags, looking for something to serve as a barrier, and come up with nothing. We technically have sheets and blankets, but I don’t think I want to sacrifice any comfort I don’t have to.
Especially since I don’t have running water.
Leaving the room, I go in search of something that will work.
I don’t know if there’s even anything in this place, but it’s worth a shot.
Using my phone for light, I wander around the first floor until I find a pile of empty boxes stacked in one corner.
After checking them for any hiding critters or dampness, I drag a few of the biggest ones back into the room, cutting them up as Butch carries in the last load of stuff.
He doesn’t question me, just steps in to help, immediately picking up on my plan. In short order, a large section of floor is covered in flattened cardboard, and we have the uninflated mattress spread across the area.
While I unwrap the cord and plug in the pump, beginning inflation, Butch pulls the plastic off our pillows and shakes out sheets and blankets. In just a few minutes, our bed is set up and ready to go.
That done, we organize everything else. Drinks and food are lined in one corner. The new laptop I bought is plugged in to charge. Tags are cut off the inexpensive clothes I’m hoping will get me through the next few days before being folded and stacked on another collapsed box.
Butch tips his head toward the door. “There’s a small bathroom back toward the door we came in. I filled a bucket with water and put it in there so we can use the toilet.”
“Really?” I can live without a shower, but I was not looking forward to life without a toilet. “I could kiss you right now.”
I’m sure Butch won’t hate having a toilet either, but it’s not quite as big of a deal for him. He can pee pretty much anywhere thanks to his penis.
Cock.
A shiver wiggles its way down my spine as I remember the way he gripped it last night. The expression on his face as he orgas—came.
“I wouldn’t stop you.” Butch stands tall and broad, watching me with an intense gaze.
Does that… Does that mean he wants me to kiss him? I think that’s what it means, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.
I take a step toward him, moving slowly in case I’ve got it wrong. I don’t want to mess up. To make things weird between us.
I’d hate for him to not let me watch him masturbate again.
When I’m within arm’s reach, he moves so fast I don’t see it coming, grabbing me and pulling me right against him. All the air rushes from my lungs as we connect and my body lights up. His action eases my uncertainty and evaporates my hesitation.
He does want me to kiss him.
I don’t technically have any real experience with how to do that, but I’ve done a fair bit of research. Enough to write a respectable, college level paper on the act.
And if that’s not good enough, I don’t know what would be.
Hooking one arm around his neck, I push up onto my toes, trying to close the distance between us. Butch is tall and I’m short, and it makes things a little more complicated than I anticipated. Either he’s got to bend way down, or I have to climb him like a tree.
I’m trying to work my way through the predicament, when Butch grips my hips, lifting me off the floor. His hands slide to my thighs, pulling them around his waist, and I find myself face-to-face with the only man to ever make me want to be touched.
To do some touching of my own.
The tip of my nose brushes his as he starts walking, taking three long steps before the whole world tilts.
I hold on tight, squeezing him with my arms and legs as gravity shifts its grip on me.
My back hits the firm surface of the air mattress a second before Butch’s body presses me deeper into the blankets.
“Oh.” I suck in a breath as certain areas react to the friction of our connection. “My.”
“Still want to kiss me, B?” Butch’s warm breath mingles with mine. “Because I’m ready and willing.”
I like how blunt he’s being. I like the clarity. The way it leaves no room for interpretation or confusion. “I very much want to kiss you.” I want to give him the same sort of clarity, so I add, “with tongue.”
The lips I hope will soon be on mine lift into a smirk that makes my stomach flip. “Eventually I plan to put my tongue plenty of places on you.” His lips ghost over mine. “But I’ll start with your mouth first.”
I’m mid inhale when Butch seals us together in a kiss that’s nothing like the one he gave me at the safe house. It’s not sweet or soft or quick.
It’s hard. A little rough. Demanding. Consuming.
I’m being invaded. By his scent. By his taste. By textures and sensations I thought I could imagine.
I was incorrect.
This is so much… more. And it’s sensory overload. In a good way.
I love the way his body is invading mine. Connecting us together. Merging parts of me with parts of him.
It makes me wonder if I would love sex as much as I love kissing. It’s basically the same principle, right?
Just with his cock instead of his tongue. And I already know I like his penis.
It did seem overly big and scary, but now that I’m under him, my body feels so different from any way it has before. It feels achy. Restless.
Empty. Like maybe overly big isn’t really a bad thing.
My lower parts are clenching in odd ways as I wiggle around. Searching for… Something more.
Butch drags his mouth off mine, the wet heat of his lips moving along the line of my jaw as I continue trying to get whatever it is I’m after. “What’s wrong, B?” He nips at my skin. “Am I too heavy?”
Is that it? “No. I don’t think so.” I drop my legs from where they’re still linked around his waist to dig my heels into the mattress as I try to get more leverage so I can… So I can, what?
I.
Don’t.
Know.
And it’s frustrating.
I grunt in aggravation as I start to sweat. Butch presses his hands into the bed, levering his upper half off me. “Becca?”
I need to cool down. Need to fix this discomfort.
Reaching down, I grab the hem of my shirt and drag it over my head, sighing when the cool air hits my skin. “That’s better.”
Butch has gone totally still, his big frame frozen over me.
I take another breath, waiting for the uncomfortable sensations to fade as I cool down.
They don’t.
“What is wrong with me?” I grab at my hair, pushing it away from my neck in case it’s the problem. “I feel…” I don’t know how I feel. It’s just as frustrating as everything else is. “Weird.”
Butch pulls in a labored breath, his chest heaving with the inhale. “I think you need to come, B.”
“But I don’t know how to come.” My voice is weirdly pitched and whiny.
Butch’s hand slides over the heated skin of my ribcage. “I’m pretty sure you can figure it out. You’re a smart woman.”
I stop breathing when his hand moves to curve along the bottom of my breast. I don’t always wear a bra—they’re uncomfortable, and I don’t have much to contain—so there’s nothing between him and me when his palm covers the small swell completely.
I wait for it to feel amazing. But it’s just warm. Certainly nothing to write home about, and it does nothing to quell the ache making me squirmy.
But then his touch shifts, and instead of covering me completely, only his fingers are there.
When they pinch at my nipple, I make a sound that’s never come out of me before.
He does it again, tugging a little this time, and I swear I can feel it between my legs as I make another unidentifiable sound.
Butch moves, his positioning changing in a way that puts more pressure between my legs, the contact amping up the sensation his fingers are causing. It shouldn’t help, but it does.
“Better?” Butch’s voice is deep and dark against my neck as he moves again, working himself right against that throbbing spot between my legs.
Is that my clit? Is that what that thing is capable of?
I’m a little mad at it for being such a temperamental diva up to this point, because each time Butch grinds against it, I nearly black out from how good it feels. So good that my hips start to rock along with him, amplifying each move he makes.
When the pinch of his fingers at my nipple is replaced with the wet heat of his mouth, my whole body goes tight, the sensations he’s created cresting in a mind-blowing, vision-stealing, lung-freezing—
Holy shit. That was an orgasm.
I had an orgasm.
I blink up at the ceiling, my body vibrating, my limbs weak.
I can’t believe I had an orgasm.
And I think I want another one.