31. Rusty
CHAPTER 31
RUSTY
T his trip was one hell of a ride. Rusty had figured he’d come to Vegas, snap a photo of Kelsey with her sidepiece, play a couple of games of poker, and head back to California. Instead, he’d ended up as an extra in a home movie, and with all the make-up, he’d felt as if he were in Hollywood or some shit like that. Plus he’d managed to turn Mav’s house into a hotel, and he’d found a girl he saw himself spending a significant amount of time with.
And he’d almost ruined everything.
That wasn’t the first time he’d acted out a vivid dream, but it was the first time he’d molested a woman in his sleep. Previous nocturnal pursuits had included waking up outside in his underwear, leaving the freezer open after a quest for ice cream, and breaking a toe when he stubbed it on a radiator. But the last incident had happened years ago. And this… This was a hundred times worse. Erin might be able to forgive him, but he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. Too many men had taken advantage of her in the past, and he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t be another .
He’d failed.
“I’ll sleep in Mav’s room tonight,” he whispered as they walked up the stairs.
“Hello, cover story?”
“Then I’ll sleep in the race car bed.”
“Might be a tight fit with the two of us.”
“Erin…”
When they reached the bedroom, she closed the door behind them and turned to face him.
“Stop.”
“I will, I swear. I’ll never do that again.”
“No, I mean stop with all the apologies. Look, I get it. You made a mistake, but you weren’t entirely conscious when you did it, and I didn’t mind anyway.”
“But—”
She put her hands on her hips. “Unless you’re telling me you were awake?”
“No, I would never?—”
“Do you always beat yourself up like this?”
“I’m not?—”
“Did she make you do this? Florence? Grovel yourself into the ground? I get that I come from a place where men didn’t apologise, ever, but this is a lot. I mean, it’s cool if you want to buy me flowers or something, I’m not gonna say no, but can we just agree that you can put your fingers wherever you want but maybe do it when you’re lucid next time?”
Rusty was still processing the first part. Did Florence make you grovel yourself into the ground? He’d just…never looked at it that way. Never unpacked the baggage from the relationship and seen where the issues lay. But since high school, every mistake had led to her giving him the cold shoulder until he’d crawled on his knees over broken glass and usually bought her a gift he couldn’t really afford as an apology. That was normal. Wasn’t it? When things were go od between them, life had been great, but when he’d screwed up…
“You okay?” Erin asked.
And she wanted him to put his fingers wherever?
“I think I’m falling a little bit in love with you,” he blurted.
She just stared at him. “So, I have a pile of stuff I’m sorting through in my head.”
“I’ll wait. I’ll wait a really long fucking time for you, Erin Kealoha.”
“Awesome. Now can you…” She glanced down. “You know, take the pants off again?”
“Uh, sure? Erin?”
“Mmm?”
“How far do you see this going tonight?”
“Pretty far?”
“Like needing a condom far?” Because Rusty didn’t have any with him. “No pressure, just checking.”
“The last time I was pregnant, I miscarried, so probably? I don’t know… I don’t even know… Please, I don’t want that to happen again.”
She looked at him for a beat and then burst into tears. Fuck. Rusty gathered her up in a hug because what else was he supposed to do?
“Baby, I’m so sorry you went through that. So fuckin’ sorry.”
“Sh-sh-she would’ve been called Esther. I b-b-buried her beside the apple trees in the backyard.”
Oh, hell. The baby had been born? Erin had actually given birth? Several years ago, one of Florence’s friends suffered a miscarriage, and nobody had mentioned a funeral, just way too much blood, cramps, and the need for a spa weekend. He’d paid for the spa weekend and stayed out of the way.
“They left you to bury her alone? ”
“My sisters said it was normal. That sometimes, babies didn’t get the spark of life, and it was the Lord’s way. Then they went to the midday ceremony, and I just…dealt with it.”
Rusty kissed Erin’s hair, but what he really wanted to do was punch her so-called husband in the face. Then something altogether darker clenched around his gut.
“And you were sixteen years old when this happened?”
“Fifteen. I left the Promised Land soon after, right before my sixteenth birthday.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her hand. “Man, I don’t know what to say. I truly don’t know what to say. I mean, there aren’t enough words for that.”
“The worst part is that I was relieved,” Erin whispered. “If she’d lived, I would’ve loved her with my whole heart, but I’d still be trapped there. I couldn’t have left her behind. And if I’d taken his child, he’d never quit looking for me.”
At least, Elvis had assumed Esther was his daughter. Now that I understood infertility was a thing, I was, like, eighty-five percent sure my stepfather should take the blame there, which was yet another horrible event I’d done my best to block out.
“Fuck. Erin, I’m so sorry.”
What was the penalty for murder in California? However long Rusty might spend in jail, the satisfaction would be worth the price. But a homicidal boyfriend wasn’t what Erin needed right now.
He kissed her hair. “I can’t change your past, but I can change your future. And if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
“I just want to erase the bad parts. Which is most of them.” She looked up through teary eyes. “Make new memories with me?”
“We can make all the memories in the world together.”
“So you’ll get condoms? ”
“Why don’t we watch a movie first?”
“A movie? You don’t want to sleep with me?”
“Oh yeah, I do. I fuckin’ do. But your cheeks are still wet with tears, and I want to give you a cooling-off period.”
“You think I don’t know what I want?”
He smiled as he kissed her on the forehead. “No, I think you do.”
“Well, I don’t want to cool off.”
Another kiss. “You’re hot, maybe a little fiery too. I’ll find condoms; you pick a movie.”
And snacks. He’d bring snacks. Anything to take his mind off eating her pussy.
Rusty thought she’d fallen asleep during the movie—although he wasn’t sure how because everyone on-screen seemed to be either yelling or shooting at each other—but as the credits rolled, she sat up and peeled her shirt off. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Damn.
“Erin…”
“Have I cooled off enough yet?” She fished a couple of ice cubes out of the drink she’d asked him to bring and ran them over her nipples. They pebbled instantly, and a drop of water ran down her taut stomach. “Should I go sit in the refrigerator?”
“I thought you were inexperienced?”
“Okay, so I don’t have the first freaking clue what I’m doing in bed, but I spent two and a half months serving drinks in a strip club, so I learned a few tricks.”
She hopped off the bed and began swaying her hips to the music from the closing credits, then undid the zipper on her shorts and slid them seductively over her hips. Erin was a roller coaster of contradictions, but Rusty was a red-blooded man, and his last thread of self-control was rapidly unravelling. When she flicked her underwear across the room with a toe, he gave in and tossed her onto the bed.
“You’re sure you want this? ”
Fuck it. She writhed underneath him as he ran his tongue over her clit.
“Yes!”
He hooked her legs over his arms, giving himself full access, and then he went to town on her, licking and sucking, taking his cues from every breathy little gasp and moan. He knew when she was ready to come. Her whole body tensed, and she pulled some of his hair out by the roots. He didn’t care.
And when she gasped his name, a little bit of love turned into something he hadn’t felt in years, not since those early days with Florence. An overwhelming desperation to know everything there was to know about this woman. To kiss her awake every morning and fall asleep with her in his arms every night. Gradually, that feeling had slipped away with Florence. Hockey hadn’t helped, but she’d changed too. Somewhere along the way, between her law degree and her frequent commutes to Bemidji, she’d changed. Replaced the fun side of herself with ambition.
Erin was wild, slightly kooky, the type of girl who’d set out on an adventure without a second thought, and he loved that about her. A girl who’d push her fears aside in search of pleasure, who’d try all the new things this world had to offer. The woman he wanted by his side.
He stretched out on the bed and kissed her. She kissed him back, then pulled away.
“I can taste myself. And I’m not sure if that’s gross or hot.”
“Hot. It’s definitely hot.”
“So when do I get to taste you?”
“Whenever you want.”
Rusty’s dick was so hard it ached.
“Can we get the sex part over with first?” She crinkled her nose. “That came out worse than I intended. I mean, I’m sure you’re fantastic, but I haven’t had the best experiences, so I have, like, this mental block, and…”
“I get it. It’s okay, I get it.”
And he did. He figured that if he were a vile old man with five wives, he wouldn’t put much effort into getting his rocks off—it would be the missionary position and nothing else. So instead of leaving Erin lying on the bed, he picked her up and carried her to the overstuffed couch in the corner of the room.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“It’ll be better this way. You’ll be in control.”
“Eeuw, don’t sit your sweaty ass on there. And what if something drips?”
Actually a good point. Nobody wanted to be sponging stains off of velvet in the middle of the night.
“I’ll get a sheet.”
After the couch was suitably protected, Rusty sat with Erin straddling him and rolled on a condom. She looked down dubiously.
“Huh. It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Why do men think bigger is always better? Wouldn’t smaller be more comfortable?”
“I never really thought about it that way.”
“See, I should go find a man with one of those giant monster trucks because he’d definitely be small enough to handle.”
Rusty snorted. “Just take your time.”
He notched the head of his cock at her entrance and guided her down, feathering her shoulders with kisses as she lowered herself, but he hadn’t slid in an inch when she jumped up.
“No, no, I can’t. Not like this.”
“The position doesn’t work for you? ”
“No, it’s all these dolls. And the teddy bears. It’s like they’re watching us, and it creeps me out.”
He laughed softly to himself as she began turning the toys around so they faced the walls. He had to admit they were kind of creepy. And once the eyes were gone, she climbed right back into his lap and slid his shaft inside her.
“Fuck,” he muttered because damn, she was tight. Tight and perfect.
“What’s wrong?”
“That was a good ‘fuck.’”
“Phew. Okay, now what?”
“Now, you move.”
“Move how?”
“Any way you want. Chase whatever makes you feel good. You can’t get it wrong.”
Erin Kealoha was an excellent student. She soon found her rhythm and Rusty held her as she arched back, those small but flawless breasts within sucking distance. He knew the moment she hit her G-spot. The gasp gave it away, followed by a moan.
“If you think you’re going to come, tell me and I’ll try to hold back.”
“I…I…”
She called out to several deities, moving faster now, lost in the moment, reaching for that elusive orgasm while Rusty recited multiplication tables in his head. When she stiffened and clenched around him, he let go too, the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced ripping through him like a firework. They collapsed against each other, spent, transformed.
“I never realised it could be like that,” Erin mumbled into the crook of his neck.
“Neither did I.” And that was the honest truth.
“Having your own space is so overrated. ”
“Then I guess I’d better clear out some closet space in Fresno.”
In sleep, she draped languid limbs over him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand on his heart. What happened in Vegas definitely wasn’t staying in Vegas, and Rusty had never been happier about that.
“I didn’t think they’d handcuff us,” Rusty said. “Is it normal for them to handcuff us?”
He carried a flashlight in one hand, and his other was securely attached to Erin’s. And his fucking balls itched. He could hardly ask her to scratch them, could he?
“If you’re scared, I have a handcuff key,” she offered.
He scoffed. “I’m not scared.”
“It’s just that your voice went kinda high-pitched there.”
“I’m not fuckin’ scared. Wait, why do you have a handcuff key?”
“Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case I get handcuffed to something I don’t want to be handcuffed to.” Erin stood on tiptoes to kiss him. “But I’m cool with being handcuffed to you.”
They were playing a waiting game now. Waiting for Selene to leave the Neptune, waiting for Ace to view the video. Rusty knew the file had been uploaded three hours ago. As for the Selene thing, they were tracking Jace’s phone, and Kelsey was reporting back on any conversations she had with the man. The Raiders were through to the next round of the playoffs. And Mav’s cousin Katherine had said “I do” because nobody in her family had the courage to tell her that her fiancé was a philandering prick .
In the end, she’d worked out the truth for herself when she caught the asshole in a cupboard at the reception. With a member of the catering team. Oh, sure, he’d claimed they were just looking for the smoking area, but his zipper was undone and his shirt was buttoned up wrong, and Mav had finally grown a pair and called him on his bullshit while Katherine sobbed into her wedding dress. To add insult to injury, the groom had sworn he’d quit smoking six months prior.
Mav had tried to escape to the airport, but his aunt had shoved him into a chair and told him that this was a time for the family to stick together, so he was stuck in Norway for the foreseeable future. Annulment had been mentioned.
In Vegas, nobody wanted to spook Jace, so any familiar faces had to take a back seat during the surveillance. That included Rusty and Erin, by virtue of their intervention at the Funhouse, and Kina, thanks to her support for the fake baby mama. Sin, Dusk, and Ari were taking turns to monitor Jace’s movements, all of which meant Erin and Rusty had the afternoon off. And when he asked Erin what she wanted to do, she’d decided they were going to an escape room.
“I think undoing the handcuffs with your own key would be cheating,” he told her.
“You’re probably right. Hey, this box has a puzzle on the bottom.”
“Really?” Rusty moved behind her, trapping her hand over his cock. “Where?”
“There are cameras in here,” she hissed.
“It’s almost dark.”
“Huh. Good point.”
Erin proved to be an excellent multitasker. Not only did she get them out of the escape room within the allotted time, but she also left a mess in his underwear, something she found funnier than he did .
“You started it,” she pointed out.
“I did. And now I need to use the bathroom.”
Except three women were blocking the way. Rusty cursed under his breath because the one in front had that look in her eye. He tried to hide his half-hard cock as she squealed.
“Ohmigosh! Rusty Bolt? I’m your biggest fan. Like, totally. Can I get a picture?”
He’d skipped shaving for the past couple of days because Erin said his five o’clock shadow was dirty-hot, but in hindsight, that had been a mistake because he looked more like his old self now.
He sighed. “Sure, you can get a picture.”
Acquiescing was the easiest way to make fans go away, plus the sponsors didn’t like it if he told women to take a hike.
“You want me to do the honours?” Erin offered, holding out the hand that had just jerked off Rusty’s cock for the first girl’s phone.
Damn, this was purgatory.
The girl beamed at her. “Oh, thank you.”
Rusty gritted out a smile with each of the three girls, hoping there wasn’t a damp patch on the front of his jeans, and then he escaped to the bathroom. Fuck, cum was dripping down his leg. A kid in chinos gave him a suspicious look when he walked into a stall with a wad of paper towels, but he was too buzzed to care.
“Sorry about the interruption,” he muttered to Erin after he’d cleaned up. The three interlopers were still giggling in the far corner of the lobby. “Getting accosted by fans is a hazard of the job.”
“I’m used to it with my brother. I always offer to take the pictures because that way, I don’t end up being a part of them.”
“Good plan. ”
“When you went to the bathroom, the ringleader asked if I was your girlfriend.”
“What did you say?”
“That we were just friends. I panicked, okay? It’s not that I don’t love you because I’m definitely getting there, but I’m not sure what the Prophet would do if he saw me living it up in Las Vegas.”
“You really think he’d try to make you go back?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. But I do know that my husband was a controlling sack of shit. Are you mad at me?”
“Of course I’m not mad at you. Tell people whatever makes you comfortable. We know the truth, and that’s all that matters.”