Chapter 15
15
OPHELIA
H e helps me up into the bed of his truck after dropping the tailgate for us to sit on. He had driven us out to a lookout that overlooked an inlet that dumped into the Ashley River and subsequently the Atlantic Ocean. I’ve lived in Charleston for over four years now, ever since leaving Georgia, but have never come across this spot before. How Malcolm came to find it I’m not sure.
We eat our sandwiches in silence, instead allowing the sounds of the water running downstream to fill the space between us. I can’t tell how he’s feeling after he’d told me about Marshall, Butcher and Block, and his addiction. They don’t bother me in the slightest and I’m touched that he felt comfortable enough to tell me about them in the first place. Maybe I can be brave and tell him?—
“Damn, Darryl makes a good sandwich.” His outburst startles me out of my thoughts and I try not to choke on the bite I’d just taken.
“He really does,” I mumble through overstuffed cheeks. I couldn’t say when the last time I had a classic deli sandwich was but this is the best one I’ve had in years. For a presumptuous old man, Darryl makes a damn good sandwich.
Malcolm licks his fingers clean and balls up the paper wrapper his sandwich had been in before turning and looking at me. “So, did I totally kill my chance of ever getting laid again because I told you I’m an addict in recovery?”
My eyebrows push together in the center of my face and I bring the back of my hand to my mouth to cover it while I talk with my mouth half full. “Why would that ruin your chances of getting laid?” I look into his nearly black eyes where the corners pinch together at a point.
“I don’t know, I guess I just assume that people want nothing to do with me when they find out. Like my parents. I mean shit, I was shocked my friends still wanted anything to do with me after I put them through what I did.” His voice goes quiet at the end and I want to ask him what he means. Instead, I take the risk and give him a piece of myself so he doesn’t feel so alone.
“Ahhh, so I see you’re also a part of the fractured family club,” I tease, leaning over and bumping his shoulder with mine. We’re sitting close enough on the tailgate that our knees are brushing together. Any other guy I would have moved all the way to the opposite end. Hell, any other guy and I wouldn’t be here at all.
But I am.
With Malcolm.
And I’m not entirely sure why.
“You too?” his voice picks up. “Damn, between you, me, and Magnolia, we’re well on our way to forming a full-on quartet. Wait, shit, if you include Hank in that, too, then we’re there.”
“We should get shirts,” I offer with a laugh.
“Jackets would be cooler.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the idea. “You’re right, jackets would be way cooler.”
We’re both laughing now because sometimes that’s the best thing you can do when talking about your issues. If you’re not laughing, you’re crying. And laughing feels better. Hearing Malcolm’s genuine laugh, instead of his cocky one or his small chuckles, warms my insides in a way I didn’t think possible. It’s deep, and rich, and full. It makes me feel full and I kind of love it.
“I think it’s only fair that I get to ask you a personal question. Since you got to ask me one.” He runs a hand through his nearly shoulder length hair to push it out of his eyes. As his arm flexes, my knees instinctively squeeze together.
I sigh and roll my eyes at him. “Sure, I guess it’s only fair. Ask away, pretty boy.” When his eyes light up I get the sense that the name that once annoyed him is starting to impact him in a different way.
“What’s that story? With your parents?” He leans back on his hands and gently swings his legs forward and back. A shiver dances over my spine as an early winter breeze blows through and I’m grateful I have my sweater on. It isn’t cold by any means but once you’ve lived in the lowcountry long enough, the drop in temperature that happens in November is noticeable enough to give you a chill. Even though I know this chill isn’t purely because of the breeze.
I wrap my arms around myself and he must notice me shiver because he leans forward, concern on his face, and drops his head to one side. “Are you cold? We can get in the truck if you want.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” I say, waving a hand in front of me. “It was just a little chill, that’s all.”
“We can get in the truck if you’re cold, Ophelia.” He very rarely calls me by my name to where hearing it on his lips takes me by surprise and warms my core more than it should.
I shake my head at him again. “No, really, I’m fine. You asked about my family, yeah?” He nods in reply.
“Well, they’re in Georgia for one. I’m not from Charleston originally, most people aren’t. I moved here a little over four years ago. I was…trying to find myself and start over at the same time. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going but I knew I wanted to call the Holy City my home and I would do anything to make that happen. Unfortunately for me, the only thing my parents appreciated about my plan was the fact that I landed somewhere so deeply embedded in the Bible Belt and had a church on every other corner.” I try to scoff out a laugh but it ends up sounding more like a choking hiccup.
I worry my lips between my teeth. He had been honest with me but I’m not being completely honest with him. I wasn’t trying to find myself, I was trying to run away from who I was becoming. From who they wanted me to be. From who he was trying to force me to become. I can count the number of people who truly know who I am on three fingers and they only know because they’re my best friend, my assistant, and they sign my paychecks and have to send my taxes to the IRS. No one else knows my secret and that is for good reason. Without realizing it, I’m anxiously playing with the knitting of my sweater, stretching it out and poking my fingers through the knotted yarn. He must be able to tell I’m uneasy because he reaches for my hand and holds it in his, giving it a supportive squeeze.
“I guess we all have our pasts, don’t we?” He looks at me without judgment or pity, but acceptance and understanding. The way the corner of his mouth tips up makes me want to reach out and trace it with my finger, like a solid anchor I can reach for and hang on to when I feel lost at sea.
I scoff and try to pull my hand from his but he doesn’t let me drift away. Instead he wraps his fingers tighter around mine and pulls my hand into his lap and covers it with his free hand. My eyes fall to my lap as my heart does a flip in my chest before I drag them back to him. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“You know I won’t judge you for what you carry with you, right? I’m standing at the end of the line when it comes to having any room to judge another person. You can tell me things if you want to share them, little fox.” This man and his nicknames. If he doesn’t knock it off my heart is going to get the wrong ideas.
“Fuck buddies don’t make things personal,” I say, trying to sound disconnected and aloof even though I’m starting to feel anything but those two things.
“Who says I see you as just my fuck buddy?” He’s still holding my hand as he leans over his lap and brings his face to mine. As he does, I take in some of the finer details of the tattoos that fill the skin of his neck. I find a vein and can feel the pulse of his heartbeat visibly speed up.
“Don’t do that,” I challenge. “Don’t go and ruin a perfectly good thing by getting all up in your feelings. It’s?—”
“Just sex,” he finishes for me.
I swallow hard and hold his stare. “Yes.”
“If you’re so adamant about this being ‘just sex’ why don’t you let me fuck you once as if we’re something more than what we are and then you can tell me if it’s ‘just sex.’” He brings his face so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my lips. When he cocks his head to one side and smirks, I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. When I don’t respond, he takes that as an okay to pull my arm so that I move closer to him and press his lips to my neck. When they find the spot behind my ear, I can’t stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, a labored sigh escaping from my lips as they do.
“Malcolm,” I sigh, quickly losing the firm grip I thought I had over this situation. When his hand slips between my legs and squeezes my inner thigh, I feel my brain starting to get more and more hazy.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, pressing harder, more powerful kisses to my neck. They almost feel like he’s marking his territory. Marking what’s his.
“Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you like I have real feelings for you. Tell me you don’t want me to completely undo you in the back of my truck and ruin you entirely for any other man you’ll try to be with. Tell me you want this to stay as ‘just sex.’”
My heart is starting to run away with my feelings and I can feel my brain starting to chase after them both. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. One night. No sleepovers. No dates. This is why no dates! I want to tell him to stop, to take me home and run back into my condo, safe and sound from the stupid fucking feelings I have forced myself not to feel for the last four years.
But I can’t. And I don’t.
“I want you to fuck me like I’m yours,” I beg, pushing myself up and straddling his lap. My fingers rope themselves through his hair and give them a good hard yank, forcing him to look at me. When he does, he gives me a confident smirk that’s full of knowing.
“You already are, princess.”
He loops his well-defined arms under my thighs and lifts me up, stepping down from the tailgate and setting me down on the edge. My eyes lock on him as he pulls the shirt he’s wearing up and over his head, tossing it to the back of the bed of the truck. He takes a step towards me and reaches for the hem of my sweater, quickly pulling it off and laying it over the side of his truck. I’m wearing a simple nude bralette underneath, nothing overly sexy by any means but by the way Malcolm’s eyes are burning into me you would have thought it was straight up lingerie. Leaning down, he places a strong hand on my neck, his fingers reaching up into my hair and kisses me hard. Our tongues clash together, both of us trying to take control, and as they do I feel his other hand reach behind my back and unhook my bra in one go.
“Cute party trick,” I hum into his mouth, trying to keep our lips together as much as possible.
“You better stop calling me cute or I’m going to think you have a crush on me or something.” He smiles as he kisses me and I shrug myself free from my bra once I feel the straps start to fall from my shoulders. Once it falls gently to the ground beneath his truck, his hands find my nipples and he starts to knead them in his hands. The pleasure he brings me by the simple moves causes my hips to buck and beg for more. Wanting to bring him the same kind of pleasure, I push back against him and reach for the waistband of his sweats. I force a hand just underneath them and find his cock is hard and waiting for me. He moans into my mouth as I wrap my fingers around him and start to play with him.
As if to show me he can do me one better, he pulls his face away from mine and drops his lips to one of my breasts and starts to suck and flick my nipple with his tongue. He presses his hips into me, making it easier for me to jerk him off and I love the control I have over him as I do it. With his lips on my breast, he mirrors my movements and pulls at the waistband of my leggings with a free hand and slips his hand underneath them. Wanting to make it easier for him, I pull my hand away from him just long enough to lift my hips up and pull the waist of my leggings down as much as I can.
“Oh, is that what my girl wants? She wants me to finger fuck her right out here in the open?” he growls, bringing his hands over mine and pulling my legging all the way down to my ankles. I kick my shoes off quickly and use my toes to push my leggings all the way off. Free of them finally, I push him away and spread my legs wider, arching my back and locking my eyes on his.
“I’m not your ‘girl,’” I state confidently, bringing a hand to the top of my thigh. His eyes flash from it, to my exposed center, then back to my eyes. “I’m your little fox. Your dirty little secret. Your slut.” The words fall from my lips as my hand falls between my legs. I begin to play with myself as he stands and watches me.
“You see how wet you make me? I’m dripping for you. I bet you wish you could feel how wet you make me, don’t you, pretty boy?”
He doesn’t respond but when his hands ball up into a fist at his sides, I know I have him where I want him. I rub myself with one finger and drop my head behind me, moaning loudly as I push two fingers inside myself. Lifting my head, I continue to play with myself in front of him and revel in how turned on he is as he watches.
“Play with yourself,” I command, extending my foot towards him and using my foot to rub his cock that he’s pulled out of his sweats. “I want to watch you as you watch me.”
He doesn’t wait for me to ask twice before pushing his sweats off and fully freeing his cock and taking it in one hand. He starts to get himself off as I do the same. Both of us mutually falling victim to our own hands. When he takes a step forward I think he’s going to try and touch me but instead, he leans his thighs against the open tailgate between my legs and braces one hand outside of my thigh. His eyes watch what my fingers are doing and his hand starts to move faster.
“You are my little slut. Look at you, getting yourself off instead of letting me do it.” He brings his mouth close to my neck again but I don’t feel his lips on my skin. I use a hand to hold myself up and flick my fingers harder against my clit. I can feel myself starting to climb as I watch him do the same. He tries to bring a hand to my center but I swat it away.
“I didn’t say you could touch me.” His eyes heat and his nostrils flare at being denied. Knowing my body better than anyone, I sink three fingers deep inside myself and use my thumb to flick my clit at the same time. My head falls back and my eyes close as a guttural moan rings out from the back of my throat and I feel my body starting to shake.
“Please, please let me touch you. Please let me be the one who brings you over the edge. I need to feel you around my cock, please ,” he whimpers, dropping his head to my shoulder as he continues to help himself along.
Needing him as much as he needs me, I pull my hand from behind me and loop it around his neck, forcing him closer to me. With my other hand I reach for his cock and he takes a step closer as I guide it towards my entrance.
“I don’t have a?—”
“I have an IUD,” I breathe, using him like a toy and teasing myself. Once he’s lined up with me, I release him and use my hand to brace myself up against him.
“I got tested last week,” he breathes, starting to thrust himself closer to me without actually entering. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire and I swear I’m about to explode.
“So did I.”
“My results came back clean.”
“So did mine.”
He freezes for a moment and brings his hand to my neck, his thumb forcing my chin up and looking at me dead in the eyes. “Tell me you’re okay with me fucking you raw and I will. If you aren’t, I’ll drive us back to your place so fast and we can start this all over again.”
I let my hand answer for me as I guide his dick towards my entrance and push my hips towards him so he slips inside half an inch. “ Fuck me like I’m yours, Malcolm. ”
He doesn’t wait and steps forward to sink himself inside of me completely. The wave of ecstasy and pleasure that overcomes my body causes me to cry out and I’m glad we’re out in the middle of nowhere so no one can hear what he’s doing to me. With both hands on either side of my thighs, he pounds into me, skin to skin, and we start to become one. My hands find his back and pull him in even closer, needing any kind of friction I can get. With the amount of foreplay we had, I can feel us both starting to climb already. Sometimes sex doesn’t need to be about duration but about exploration. And I’d explored a fantasy with Malcolm he didn’t even know I had.
And it was everything I’d wanted it to be and more.
“God, you’re so fucking tight. Your pussy takes me so well,” he grunts. His hips are moving faster and the blood is rushing to all the right places. He’s hard, strong, and is giving me everything I need and more. His hand reaches for my chest again but I’m so keyed up that feeling his fingers there makes me grab them and pull them away. I want to feel every part of him inside me and focus on how good he is making me feel there. The truck is starting to rock with his thrusts and sweat is starting to collect on his brow. My breath is getting caught in my throat as the warm feeling of an orgasm starts to overtake me.
I dig my fingers into his hips, holding him in place and cry out. “Yes, Malcolm, please. Make me come. I’m yours, I only want to be yours.”
“Damn straight you are.” He pounds into me harder and reaches between us to press his thumb right where he knows it’ll send me over the edge. I drop my head behind me as the single greatest orgasm I’ve ever had bursts from inside of me. I have to hold myself up with my hands as he finishes to stop myself from falling back completely on the cold, metal bed of the truck. As he does, he drops his head to my shoulder and tries to catch his breath. The calm sounds of the river and open marshland overtake our pants and labored breaths. After a minute or so of collecting ourselves, he stands up straight and pulls out of me, sending one last ripple of electricity up my spine.
He bends down and picks my leggings and underwear up off the ground and hands them to me before walking stark naked to the back of his truck. He opens the door and closes it quickly before coming back with a towel.
“You just keep that in your truck?” I ask, raising a skeptical brow at him.
“You never know when you’re going to get a beautiful woman crying out your name in the middle of the marshland. You gotta come prepared.” He flashes me a cocky smirk then uses the towel to help clean me up before using it on himself. I jump down from the tailgate and start to pull my leggings back on as he steps into his sweats. Before he puts his shirt on, he helps me into my sweater, pulling it on over my head and helping me get my arms through.
“So, is it still just sex to you?” he questions, looking down at me. We’re standing chest to chest and he’s looking down at me. The near blackness of his irises transfix me and hold my attention as if nothing else in the world exists.
“Is it still just sex to you ?”
“Little fox, I don’t know if it was ever just sex to me.”
My jaw clenches at his confession and I feel my back go stiff. “What are you saying?”
He doesn’t even skip a beat before pulling the corner of his lips back and giving me a closed lip smile. “I’m saying I might actually kinda like you.”
“I don’t do feelings,” I sneer, trying to regain control of my heart rate which is reaching critical levels.
“Not yet you don’t,” he says a little more confidently than I’m comfortable with before planting a quick kiss on my cheek. He pulls away and walks to the passenger side door, opens it, and waits.
I walk over and before getting in I turn to him and repeat, “I don’t do feelings.”
“That’s okay, you’ll come around. Now get in the truck, princess, I’m taking you home.” Suddenly annoyed, I want to stomp my foot and tell him I’ll walk but I don’t have that option since we’re too far outside the city. Reluctantly, I pull myself into my seat and as I’m turned away from him, he slaps me hard on my butt.
“And I’m counting this as our first date,” he announces, slamming the door before I can respond.
“This isn’t a date!” I shout at him through the glass of the window and he throws his head back laughing. Once inside the truck, he sets his hand on my thigh and looks at me through the shaggy pieces of hair that have fallen into his eyes with a wide smile on his stupid handsome face. I want to slap his hand away from its resting spot but my traitor of a heart wants it to stay too much.
“I hate you,” I grumble.
“That’s not what you were saying ten minutes ago.”
I roll my eyes at him and cross my arms over my chest once I’m buckled in. Once he’s strapped in, too, he grabs the steering wheel with one hand and looks over to me before turning on the ignition.
“So, am I just dropping you off or am I coming inside?” Between the tattoos, the shaggy hair, the flexed arm muscles, and the lingering sensation of him ramming into me, I find my annoyance towards him dissipating quickly and the desire for him to stay starting to settle in. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction I know he’s vying for, I look out the window and try to come off like I don’t care.
“You can come in,” I mumble quietly into my shoulder.
“What was that?” He leans over and pushes an ear closer to me.
“I said you can come in,” I snap, annoyed that he’s won me over once more.
“And you say you don’t have feelings for me.” He’s smug as he says it and gives me a wink. I scoff dramatically at him and put my feet up on the dash. As he puts the truck into drive, he looks at me with another happy smile.
“This is a pretty good first date if I do say so myself,” he exclaims with a nod.
“It. Is not. A date!” I shout but he’s already laughing. Instead of responding, he turns the radio up and places a hand on my thigh. As the cab of his pickup fills with the sounds of country music, I can’t stop myself from liking the way his thumb gently moves back and forth on my leg.