7. Wombat
Chapter Seven
Wombat
Honoria crumpled like a rag. Her phone slipped from her hand and landed screen-up in the dried grass.
Molly tugged me to her side and crawled on top of her.
I caught the last words and a man’s voice, “And anyway, I thought you should know.” I glanced at the screen, seeing her ex’s name splashed there before the phone went dark.
“It’s a boy.” Honoria’s voice was robotic. She had her fingers woven through Molly’s fur. The dog panted between whimpers, obviously distressed. Dumb Ass barked because he wasn’t included.
I ignored both dogs until I could assess the situation. Honoria’s hands were freezing cold. Her face wasn’t much better. Shock, maybe? I couldn’t let her die out here.
“Move, Molly. I got this.” I picked Honoria up and carried her to my house. Molly was right at my side, uncharacteristically freaked. I set Honoria onto the couch and went to get Dumb Ass, who was trying to wiggle out of his collar.
When we got back into the house, Molly lay on top of Honoria, who hadn’t moved. But when Dumb Ass tried to pile on, she sat up.
“You should stay down.”
“I’m okay.”
I assessed the pallor of her face. “No, you’re not.”
She blinked. Her rally was weak. “I should leave.”
“You will stay until I can get some sugar in you and your skin temperature returns to normal. You’re in shock.”
Her face twisted. “I’m not.”
Liar. I set the back of my hand against her forehead, then against her neck. “No? Do I need to get a thermometer to prove it to you? I got one I use on horses.”
“Horses go into shock?”
“All mammals and birds do. I don’t know about snakes. I hate snakes.”
The corners of her mouth went up. “You hate snakes?”
I knelt in front of her. Tired of seeing her hands tremble, I took them into mine and rubbed against her skin to get some friction going. They were like ice cubes. “Snakes, wasps, ticks. Pretty much anything without fur or feathers.”
“I heard you had an owl.”
She must mean Hoot-in-nanny. Hoot for short. “I still have him. He lives in the barn.”
“You kept him?”
Considering he couldn’t fly farther than four hundred feet, yes. I had to. I kept him fed with meal worms and grubs from the garden. “Let’s just say, he got too attached to the place.”
“If I were an owl, I’d love it here.”
For the first time in minutes, she showed signs of clarity as she looked around the tiny-ass space I’d transformed into a bachelor nest. “Is this where you live?”
The converted garage started as a hobby, but became a necessity. While I loved my sister, I needed a place of my own where I could do whatever I wanted and not corrupt my baby sister with my… well, guests. “Yes.”
It wasn’t much more than a twenty-two foot by forty-six foot box.
Half of it held my bikes and tools in the two unheated bays, and the other half was my two-room plus bath hovel.
The living space was about as small as it looked from the outside.
The bathroom was a cramped little rectangle with a shower, shitter, and sink, and very little room to move between the spaces.
She glanced around. Everything in the place was second-hand.
Even the kitchen appliances were reclaimed from various places.
Lemon tried to give it a cheery feel by painting the main living space bright yellow and filling one corner with plants.
I sent them back if they wilted or turned ugly colors.
I had three thread-bare Persian rugs on the floor.
They were layered haphazardly to keep the chill of the cement floor from seeping through the threadbare sections.
The couch Honoria sat upon had its share of holes, too.
Mostly chewed or clawed through by Dumb Ass or whatever critter of the month I nursed back to health.
Mom kept sending me crocheted blankets to cover it.
I layered them deep on the couch, the recliner, and the footstool Lemon forced me to keep.
The result was an overstuffed puke-fest of bright colors.
Her hands were warm now, but I couldn’t let them go. Her soft skin and fine bones were fascinating. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Your house?”
No. What had made the toughest woman I’d ever met nearly faint? “Sure. Here’s the grand tour. Plants. Seating. More plants. Kitchen. Beer. That door’s the bathroom, and around the corner is the bedroom.”
Her eyes shot to mine.
I looked away, feeling awful for propositioning her before.
I had shitty timing. To cover my ass, I apologized.
“It probably smells like socks in there.” The stacked washer and dryer were ripped out of one of Snake’s rentals.
They barely worked. That meant I didn’t keep up on laundry as much as I should to be worthy of a woman of Honoria’s caliber.
I tugged my hands free. “Poor Molly was worried about you.” I was too.
“It’s her anxiety.” Honoria frowned.
Her anxiety was likely tied to her owner’s. I sat on my heels and studied her.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
She grimaced. “Like you don’t believe me.”
Nailed it. “How about I make some soup and toasted cheese sandwiches? We eat, watch TV, you’re going to drink some soda or fruit juice and we’ll just avoid the whole… um… thing.” I wasn’t scoring points on being articulate, that was certain.
“That sounds like heaven. I think I’d even like to meet your owl if it’s okay?”
I could make that happen. “Wait here.” For some reason, I winked at her before slipping out to coax Hoot down from his nest.
I fed him a worm or two before bringing him into the house.
He was used to the place. And Dumb Ass even let him ride him like a horse on occasion.
But poor Molly took one look and fixated on him as either a threat or prey.
It was hard to tell with her. I introduced them first. “Molly, this is Hoot. He’s not food, got it? ”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think that Molly would—” She grabbed Molly’s collar, which wasn’t the right thing to do. Now, instead of having a nice, calm, casual atmosphere, the tension ratcheted up. Hoot fluttered to the top of the refrigerator and let out a warning screech.
I set the worms down and distracted Molly and her owner for a minute while I explained protocol.
In the meantime, Hoot settled a bit, and Molly took her cues from Honoria.
When it was finally time, I brought Hoot down and fed him while showing off the bent wing which hampered his flight.
Then I showed Honoria his super sharp claws that were great for hunting, but not great if you weren’t wearing leather gloves or clothing thick enough.
“His beak is pretty sharp, too. Ask me how I know,” I finished. “Hold your finger out and move slow. He likes the back of his head tickled.” I showed her how.
Hoot let out a little chitter.
“He’s so cute.”
Yeah, he was. Being one of the smaller owl varieties, he was barely bigger than my hand.
His feathers were a mix of white, dark gray, and light tan.
But he had big, expressive gold-toned eyes with little tufts of dark gray feathers in the upper corners of his darkly outlined lids, giving him natural guy liner.
“He’s also wild. I’ll take him back so Molly can relax.” No sooner than I said that, he shit on my arm. The whitewash soaked through my hoodie. “I’ll be back in a minute. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
When I returned and tossed my hoodie and flannel into the pile in front of the washer. Honoria had wandered through the house. A can of cola was in her hand and she had regained her color. I almost wanted to scare her again so she’d stay, but what would be the point? “Did you see the bedroom?”
Why in the hell did I lead with that. While I mentally kicked myself, Honoria answered.
“I didn’t know you played guitar.”
I didn’t. At least not very well, according to the more musically inclined people I knew. I should lie. Something held me back. “I started because I thought chicks would…”
“So, it’s just for show?”
I shrugged. “I can strum a bit, and maybe know a few chords, but nothing great.”
Honoria shook her head. “There goes my whole fantasy about rock musicians.” Her tone was light. I could hardly take offense.
I took a couple of steps closer. “What about reckless drivers?”
Her eyes narrowed. “They don’t affect me at all.”
Damn. That wound would never heal.
Then she took a step closer and picked at a few strands of Molly’s fur that had transferred from my coat to my T-shirt. “But ask me about men who love animals?”
My brain got a little too fixated on the “love” part. “What about ’em?”
“I like that quality.”
“What about animal lovers who can give you at least two orgasms?”
She snuck a glance at my face and paused. The hunger in her eyes mesmerized me. “Two. In a half-hour?”
“Guaranteed,” I growled.
Her mouth parted. “Let’s test that.”
If I spoke my mind, I was afraid my voice would crack like in some comedy sitcom. Instead, I opened my stance and indicated the bedroom with my hand. If she hesitated, I’d probably cry.
But she didn’t.
Instead, I got to watch her sweet ass sway seductively from one hip curve to the other as she strutted her high-heels in a direct line to my bed. At the edge, she turned. “Well?”
A half hour. That wasn’t nearly enough time. Not for what I wanted to do with her. But someone needed to make the second move. I stripped off my tee and dropped it wherever. My boots got toed off next. I made a point to stick my butt in the air so she could get a good look.
And since she was riveted, I took my sweet time unbuckling my belt. Once it was undone, I crossed the heavy end over my opposite wrist and slid it free.
Her mouth dropped open.
I grinned. All that practice paid off. I unbuttoned the top button of my jeans and let the zipper loosen on its own as I moved in for the kill.
Which was more of a slow hunt rather than anything quick.
It certainly wasn’t deadly, just… hypnotic to circle each button of her shirt, slip it free, trail my fingertip down to the next, circle, slip, and when the buttons ran out, I repeated the pattern on her lace bra as Honoria loosened up piece by delectable piece.
When her dress pants hit the floor, I almost came in my jeans.
If the courts only knew what a crime those long legs were. Especially tempting was the lace of her matching panties. Those deserved my tongue. My fingers would only ruin it. I dropped to my knees in front of her and inhaled deeply.
“Random.” Her hand pressed on my head, her fingers diving into my hair. The sharp points of her fingernails skimmed my scalp as her grip tightened.
“Let me play, little mama.”
“I’m not— don’t call me that. Please?”
“Baby?”
The head shake was more violent. “How about sweetheart?”
Her nod was hesitant. I was losing her. I thought about all the ways I could shorten her name, but asked instead. Honey was what others called her, but also that asshole’s nickname for her. I’d be damned if I ever called her that. “What should I shorten your name to?”
Her mouth worked on a reply. “Nora?”
“Is that what you truly want me to call you?”
Her hesitation was palpable. “My favorite nickname is Honor. But no one calls me that anymore.”
Perfection. Not only could I give her that piece of identity back, it might shove aside any delusions that I was too young. I lowered my voice to a serious note. “Honor, I’m going to eat your pussy now, do you understand?”
Her nod was slightly frantic.
That deserved the most drawn-out, sex-infused, “Good girl” I could create.
Her head went back with a groan toward the ceiling. “That’s just as sexy as I remembered.”
I pressed my tongue flat against the lace panel between her legs and groaned slowly. My tones pitched so low it rumbled.
A squeal of pleasure slipped into the air. On its heels was a softly exclaimed, “Holy shit.”
A very good girl, indeed.
My finger hooked the fabric to pull it out of the way. I tasted her for the first time without barriers, and it was everything I’d been dreaming about for two months.
Her feet shuffled wider, and I ate her out as best I could with the limited angle I had.
Which was shit. I stopped and lifted her off her feet and planted her ass on my bed.
Then with a tug, I placed her where I had the best access to undress her.
Her hips hung off the edge and her underwear came off in one swift slide.
It was almost indecent, how easy it all was.
She gasped and stared at me.
“Legs open.”
Her knees clamped together.
Bad girl. I didn’t say it, but I wanted to. Instead, I slid my hands up her calves and pressed my thumbs into the little gap of space below her kneecaps. “Open for me, or you’ll never know if you can come twice.”
The resistance faded and her knees fell open.
I licked the soft skin of her thigh. What a good, sweet, soft, sensual woman.
The scent of her drove me crazy. This was what it was all about.
The heady fragrance, the slick of her natural lubrication, the patterns of her most private sexual lips.
I was lost. Sucked up into my head and falling into madness with each of her cries, the gasps, the sharp bite of her talons in my hair.
God, this woman had everything I’d ever wanted and more.