Thirty-Nine
A s the first chunk of my hair hit the sink, I felt a sudden easing of my spirit, like a fucking weight lifting. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it had, right? But my head seemed to itch all the time with this sense of ‘wrongness’ and it was one thing too many weighing on me, and the easiest to fucking fix.
After snipping off a few chunks with scissors, I realised that this wasn’t the best way to do it, and without my phone, which had actually been confiscated this time, when I’d literally only just fucking replaced it, I needed help.
I leaned my head around the door, and whispered to the prospect, who frowned, but agreed to pass on my request to Torch. Ten minutes later, he tapped on the door, and handed me the perfect tool for the job.
I knew Torch would have proper fucking kit for shaving that crazy tattooed head of his. I wasn’t going completely bare, just going for the closest fucking buzzcut I could manage. Using the electric clippers without the guard on would give me the closest shave.
It was cathartic, watching clump after clump of my blue-grey hair landing in the sink, as I freed my scalp from the torture of bearing it, at least for a while.
It took ages, and too much having to keep changing the angle with the clippers, until I’d buzzed away every damn hair longer than the clippers left behind. Wow. Looking in the mirror, it was a shock, even though I’d watched it disappear, but it was the new me. I rubbed my hand over the incredibly short buzzcut, and grinned. I actually felt new, which was bizarre because all that had changed was my hair, but it was a good decision, and I really needed to start making more of those.
I cleaned up the hair, and the clippers, and returned them to the prospect at the door, who stared at me in shock.
“Shit, man, I nearly didn’t recognise you.”
“New look, new me, right? You want a coffee?”
He nodded, still staring at me in shock as I glanced down the hall at the other prospect.
“Ask him if he wants one too. I’m feeling generous.”
Look at me, being the bigger man, and looking after Has’ prospect too, since he’d clearly left him pissing into the wind. I’d make sure any reporting back to Reacher about me was as positive as possible, so there was no chance of him banning Lissa again.
Fuck. I needed her back. When I went to bed that night, the wrongness was back, because she wasn’t beside me. I needed her right fucking beside me. I needed her arms wrapped around me as we slept, and her writhing body beneath mine, if I could manage to fuck her again. Once wasn’t nearly enough. I wanted to sink into that sweet pussy of hers, and feel her coming on my dick and whoa… hello boner .
I slid my hand under the covers, and wrapped it around my cock, wondering if the bastard could stay hard long enough for me to come. I stroked it slowly, closing my eyes, so I could picture Lissa lying beside me, her hair spread over the pillow, her lips parting on a sigh, as I stroked her pussy with my fingers.
Yeah… that was working. I stroked my dick harder, relishing the way the tight grip of my fingers drew back my foreskin, and sent tremors of pleasure through me.
While I was thinking about her, I remembered that way she’d looked at me with a cheeky smirk, and declared that I had to catch her to fuck her, just before she ran. Yeah… my cock jerked in my hand, and I rewarded it with another long slow stroke with my tight fist.
Lissa letting out a shriek as I caught up with her caused it to happen again. Fuck, I really wanted to chase her down and catch her again. Who knew that would appeal to me so much? In my mind, in my fantasy, there was no bed. There was no bedroom. It was an empty room, and I shoved her down on the floor, tearing her underwear down as I held her down in a tight grip. That first thrust deep into her pussy, as she let out a pained squeak, was enough to finish me off, pleasure rippling through me, as my dick pulsed, and spurted my cum all over my hand and stomach. Fuck yeah.
Strangely I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that. I mean, it was normal for us men, wasn’t it? We fucked our fists every chance we got, but I hadn’t been normal for a long time, not since I first started using. Hell, maybe even before that. Constant pain meant no boners, and I was surprised I’d managed it tonight with so many parts of me still hurting, but I took it to mean that maybe I was finally starting to heal.
I knew that Lissa was in the middle of that process. She was the rock that I’d been able to lean on to take the first steps, and I needed her for every other fucking minute of my life from now on, because for her I could keep fighting to be the man she deserved. I fell asleep with those thoughts in my head, and my cum drying on my skin.
Lissa
R yder had stayed for an hour or so, making an effort to get to know me, saying that it’d be easier for me when I returned, if I knew a few of them better.
He also told me some silly stories about club members and things they got up to, like he wanted me to understand there was a better side of club life. A friendlier side, where it wasn’t all about getting chewed out by Reacher, although it sounded like he sometimes had to corral them like wild animals.
After he’d left, I was struck by how silent my home was. A few electrical appliances hummed slightly, but they were a vague annoyance that didn’t help to break the deadness surrounding me. How many false starts would we have, before we could just settle down together and learn about what the hell we even had with each other? What if we would have never lasted long, but because we kept being dragged apart, we both imagined something bigger was going on with us? What if we were merely meant to be a brief dalliance? A temporary coupling, with mutual itch-scratching, and nothing that could last long term?
I curled up in the armchair, and let misery surround me. It was more than that, and I knew it deep inside. I knew that I’d sleep better with his arms around me, and that comforting Ice scent that he seemed to exude, permeating my soul. He was what I needed, and the minutes without him were already stretching into what felt like hours. I had to stay away from him for days? Even an hour felt impossible right now.
I picked up my phone to do something, anything, and found an unread message from Cammy.
Cammy: Babe, I’m worried about you. Call me, no matter how late. I just want to know he’s looking after you.
I dialled instantly, with no idea of the time, because all I knew was it was dark, and I was alone.
“Jesus, girl, you had me worried.”
“I’m okay.” I really wasn’t, but it’s just what we say, isn’t it? We soldier on and we hide our hurt, so we don’t burden our friends and loved ones with our crap, piling it on top of theirs like a huge Jenga tower.
“I’m calling bullshit. I heard the bitch phoned you, and I told her what a cold-hearted cow she was being.” I gasped, practically facepalming at the thought of her mouthing off at that asshole she still worked for.
“Oh god, don’t get yourself fired too, babe. This is my problem to solve.”
She laughed. “It was nothing compared to that hot biker you sent to get your stuff. What’s his story, and how do I get me a piece of that?”
“You have a thing for Has-Been?”
I heard a clink of something glass, was she drinking wine? Suddenly the idea appealed to me, so I went to the kitchen for my last bottle, and poured a glass.
“Has-Been? That’s a really weird name. Is he like defective or something?” I giggled, feeling freer and more relaxed, just by having someone to talk to again.
“He used to be an actor, didn’t you recognise him?”
She gasped. “No! What was he in? I just thought he was hot, and you know… I wanted to uh… offer him a ride.” She giggled again.
I rattled off a few things I’d seen him in, while she fell silent for a moment.
“Oh god, I’m looking online. How cute was he?”
The thought of him online brought to mind the thing he’d mentioned.
“Beware if you’re searching for him by name, because there’s some revenge porn or something online too.”
I heard a soft moan. “Oh god, gimme… tell me what to look for.”
“Forget it. Stalk him on your own, girl. Look… he’s really sweet, but the bikers, they’re all pretty volatile, you know? Like it takes so little for them to descend into punching each other and stuff.”
Another moan from her. “God, yes, I want to watch him fighting… all sweaty and half-dressed.”
I sat back down with my drink.
“Do you want me to go, so you and your hand can ‘get a room’?”
Her giggles were followed by a heavy sigh.
“I can see why you like bikers, babe. They’re so fucking manly. No skinny jeans and man buns there.”
I pictured Ice, those firm muscles of his, and that gorgeous tattoo… If he were here right now, I’d want to be running my tongue over his warm skin. Focus, woman, you’re in the middle of a phone call.
“Tattoos, though… if you’re into those, they have them. Has-Been has a lovely one on his back.”
She gasped again. “Girl, you saw him naked too? What kinda shit do they get up to? I need deets. I know he’s got a fierce mouth on him.”
That was the second time she’d mentioned something like that.
“What did he do?”
“Oh, he just pointed out very clearly what a ‘stuck up bitch’ my boss is, and told her to go fuck herself, if she can manage to pry open those cobwebbed legs of hers.”
I gasped, and started giggling.
“Did she cry? Please tell me she cried.”