Styx #4
That might’ve hurt—but I was too busy sailing through the clouds on waves of a glorious orgasm that just kept going and going.
Like I was never going to crash back to earth.
Hell, if I stayed suspended in this moment for the rest of my life, that would be okay.
No pain. No grief. No being abandoned. Just pleasure unlike anything I could ever remember.
Charles pressed his lips to my spine. For a moment, his kiss brushed my skin, his hands gentled, stroking my flanks. As if I was precious. As if I mattered.
Then, where I hoped for a few more moments of tenderness—of the emotional kind—I only got pain as he withdrew abruptly. Well, soreness, not pain. An ache. You wanted this. You asked him not to go easy. You can’t go all wimpy now. Sure. But still…
“Stay put.” Curt. Blunt. Cold and harsh, as if that soft kiss never happened. The bed rocked as he got to his feet.
What did you expect? You signed up for this.
So I did nothing except curl into a ball.
To my surprise, he pulled the covers over me before stalking to the bathroom.
I tried to get a glimpse around the divider, but the door was only open for a fraction of a second and he was too fast. I tucked the comforter under my chin and tried to do an assessment.
Best fuck ever? Entirely possible. Wanting a repeat?
Hell fucking yes. Likelihood of that happening? Pretty much zero.
He reappeared, but he’d turned off the light and I couldn’t make out a single feature. Hell, I couldn’t even tell his skin color. He opened the closet and dressed in the dark.
“Can we do this again?” I didn’t like how weak my voice sounded—like the mewl of a newborn kitten.
“I don’t do repeats. Check-out’s at ten.” He turned the door handle. Then stilled.
The tension was so thick, I could’ve cut it with a knife. I mentally urged him to stay, even while knowing he wasn’t going to.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Steven.” With that, he slipped out around the door.
Light flooded in from the hallway, but damn bastard was too fast for more than an impression of tall guy with a bulky jacket and a knit cap, silhouetted against the brightness. Then the door swung shut, leaving me there in the dark.
A torrent of emotions crashed on me. Rocking me to my very core.
As much as I wanted to tell myself this was just like every other hookup, my mind rebelled.
This was the first time since Frank died I’d felt something while having sex.
Hell, the first time I’d wanted to feel something. All because of some random stranger.
Baxter and I had driven for a week with just one bed in the camper—the second being covered by his keyboard—but we hadn’t fucked. We hadn’t made out. Hell, we hadn’t even kissed. He’d had sex since Frank’s accident. I, however, had not managed that.
Apparently I just needed to be abandoned in the middle of goddamn nowhere with a mysterious hookup to break through my stasis.
I tried to figure out how I felt about all this…
Nope.
Too hard. Too painful. Too raw.
Instead, I turned, nuzzled Charles’s pillow that carried his elusive woodsy scent, and fell asleep.
Morning came too soon as my bladder demanded attention. My stomach wasn’t happy either—I realized I’d consumed nothing since the hot chocolate at The Owl’s Nest the day before.
The clock radio read nearly eight o’clock.
I could head to the diner. I could try to hitch a ride to Vancouver.
Hell, I could even try to track Baxter down.
Mission City wasn’t that big. As long as he was still here, chances were I could find him.
Or I could try to figure out where he took the van and stake the place out till he went back for her.
I’d just been so pissed yesterday that I hadn’t wanted to find him.
I flipped on a light, got out of bed, and made my way over to the curtains. I’m on the third floor. Chances are I’m not going to flash anyone. So I pulled back the drapes.
My breath caught.
The sky was a burst of pink, purple, blue, and red. Puffy clouds were interspersed and colored with a riot of hues as well as white. I was never awake before dawn, so this was a sight I never saw. Sunsets occasionally caught my notice—but nothing like this.
I moved to the closet to retrieve my phone.
Within a heartbeat, I was back at the window, taking so many pictures.
As if I could somehow capture the magic on digital.
I never wanted to forget this moment. This was like…
a sign or something. Right? That I’d survived the past eighteen months, and that things were going to get better?
As I scrolled through the pictures, something caught my eye, and I zoomed in.
A mountain. A snow-capped mountain. Weird. I’d totally missed that. I stepped forward and spotted the triangular peak with my naked eye.
Finally, as the pink vanished—and the world returned to normal—I headed toward the bathroom.
A knock sounded at the door.
Charles came back.
I damn near opened the door before remembering I was buck naked. Stopping at the door, I glanced through the peephole.
Aaron.
“Hey, I thought I had until, what, ten?”
“You do.” He grinned. “I have your breakfast on a tray. May I bring it in?”
“Breakfast?”
“Part of the deal.”
I rubbed my face. “Let me grab a towel or something?”
“Certainly.”
I hotfooted into the bathroom, put a towel around my waist, and headed back to the door. When I opened it, Aaron nodded kindly.
He held a tray with three silver domes.
I stepped back so he could come in and put the tray on the table by the window.
He stared out the window and a soft look came over his face.
“It’s fading.” I grabbed my phone. “Do you want to see?” Right, because some random hotel manager wants to see your pathetic photos of a sunrise.
“I’d love to.”
So I scrolled until I found the best one and thrust the phone into his hands.
“That is stunning.” He squinted. “I must’ve been in the kitchen to have missed this. Thank you for capturing it.”
I wasn’t certain why he was thanking me. “Oh, what’s that mountain?” I pointed.
“That’s Mount Baker. It’s a dormant volcano down in Washington State. Darn thing’s so big that you can see it for hundreds of miles. On a good day. On a bad day, it’s invisible.”
“Uh, wow. We didn’t have anything like that back home.”
He handed me the phone. “Where’s home? If you don’t mind me asking—”
“Oshawa. Ontario. I left there almost a week ago.”
“And you’re just passing through?”
“Something like that.” I longed to confide in him.
He seemed to be a really nice guy, and I wanted…
to pour my heart out. To ask for advice.
To demand to know more about my mystery dude Charlie.
Hell, I even wanted the dude’s phone number.
Somehow, contacting him again through the app just felt… dirty.
“Your food’s getting cold.” Aaron offered me a sympathetic smile. “My card is on the tray—if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
I blinked. “Will you tell me his real name?” Because in no way was his name Charles. Although, technically Steven was my real name. Only my family got away with calling me that, though.
Aaron shook his head. “Sometimes it’s better to just walk away.”
But I don’t want to. I can’t explain it. Something about last night— I swallowed the thought. Last night had just broken a dry spell. That was all. Nothing special. Nothing magical. Nothing life altering…on Charlie’s part, anyway. “Thank you. For the food and the card. Will you thank him for me?”
“That I can do. Enjoy your morning. Call if you need anything.” With that, he was gone.
I dove for the tray.
Pancakes, toast, scrambled eggs, fruit salad, and bacon. Heavenly smelling bacon. Plus, coffee and orange juice.
I gobbled the meal and barely stopped for breath as I inhaled it. I hadn’t realized how damn hungry I was.
When I was sated, I flipped on the television and found a cartoon channel. Then I organized myself to take a luxurious bath. God knew when I’d have access to a tub this size again.
I dried my hair, put a bit of gel in it, got dressed, and then stood in the center of the room. I have to go. He’s not coming back. There’s no way to reach him. This is…the end.