“Time to get home,” I said between groans as her hand simultaneously rubbed and squeezed me. “Right the fuck now.”
She giggled again and I started to back the truck out of the clubhouse grounds. Yeah, fuck being chivalrous. I’d take her home, fuck her, put her to bed with a bottle of water and some aspirin, and then head back to the party. Fuck, this day was going good.
The streets were pretty quiet since it was after ten on a Tuesday night; not much ever happened around there during the week. It was a small town, with even smaller-minded people in it. While the world developed and changed, that town seemed to be standing still; the only thing moving in it was the club. Business was booming for the Highwaymen, and it didn’t look like it was going to tail off any time soon, either. We’d had a couple of shipments go missing, but we were pretty certain we’d plugged that leak now.
Laney kicked off her shoes and slid down, resting her cheek on my thigh muscle. Her hand had stopped rubbing on my cock, and I hoped that was because she was about to give me a drunken blowjob while I drove.
As I pulled the truck to a stop outside our house, the sound of Laney’s soft snores broke through the quiet of the truck. I looked down at her and shook my head. I wanted to be pissed that I hadn’t gotten any action, but I couldn’t stay mad at her—woman was too damn beautiful to be mad at for long. Besides, she looked after me good every night, so no doubt she’d be making it up to me the next day. Definitely something to look forward to.
Make-up sex was one thing, but guilt sex was even better.
I stroked the side of her face until she began to stir, her body stretching out like a cat’s across the seats, but she didn’t wake up.
“We’re home,” I said quietly, and she mumbled something in response but didn’t move. I smiled down at her, wondering how I got so fucking lucky. My life had been fucked up since the day I was born, with no one other than Butch giving two shits about me. I was born into a world of anger and fighting and death and lying. I had been beginning to wonder if I was cursed, given that everyone I loved either died or hated me, but then Laney had loved me back and the rest was history.
I clicked open the truck door and slid Laney’s head off my lap so it was easier to reach in and take her in my arms, and then I jumped out before reaching in and grabbing her. I kicked the truck’s door shut behind me as I carried her to the house, her head resting against my chest and her breath fanning against my skin and sending shivers through me every step of the way
I unlocked our front door with one hand, grateful that Laney weighed barely a hundred pounds, and kicked it behind me before carrying her up to bed.
She hardly stirred the entire time, even as I laid her on top of the bed and peeled off her dress. She was dressed in matching black bra and panties underneath that tiny dress, and my dick throbbed painfully as a reminder that it was there and still hadn’t been taken care of yet. I reached down and adjusted it before sliding a hand up her thigh, all the way up until I cupped her ass cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled lazily, her hands reaching for me and tugging my mouth to hers. I kissed her long and hard and then I pulled away and dragged the duvet over her body. Because if I didn’t cover her up I wasn’t going to be able to control myself much longer. My dick wanted inside and it did not like being told no.
“It’s okay,” she mumbled.
I shook my head and smiled down at her, my hair trailing into my line of sight until I tucked it behind my ears. It had been getting longer and longer and I kept on meaning to get it cut, but now it was chin length I was debating leaving it to grow some more.
“I want you to show me that you love me,” she slurred, her left hand reaching up to pull the covers away from her breast.
“You know I do, I don’t need to fuck you to show you that,” I replied.
Her eyes filled with tears and I panicked that she was going to start crying. Fucking hated it when anyone cried—and not in a sympathetic way, either. More in a shut-the-fuck-up-because-that’s-annoying way. Yeah, I was a real-life saint, I know.
“I miss my mom,” she said quietly, rolling onto her side.
I hadn’t turned a light on, so the only light shining in was from the streetlights outside the window, but I saw enough to know that she was definitely crying then—even if she was only doing it quietly. Strange thing was, it didn’t annoy me; instead it angered me. I hated that she was sad and I couldn’t do shit about it. I couldn’t stop her from missing her mom, I couldn’t bring her back. All I had was me.
“I wish you could have met her, Jesse,” she said, her face still turned away from me.
I sat down next to her and reached out to pull her onto my lap, and she wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face against my stomach and cried harder. I rubbed her hair back and stared into the dark, hating hearing her cry.
“I wish I could have, too,” I replied. “If she was anything like you, I bet she was fucking great.”
Laney fell silent and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. I was no good at this shit. I could fuck her and make her feel good, but I wasn’t used to giving out advice and shit like that. She needed one of her girlfriends there to talk to, not me. I debated if it was too late to call River or Charlie—fuck, Silvie would have been good too. But not me.
“I’m nothing like her, but I wish I was,” she finally whispered, her breath fanning across my stomach. “She was loveable, everyone loved her.”
I frowned and looked down at her before putting my hands on the sides of her face and making her look up at me. “You’re loveable, Laney.”
Her bottom lip was trembling. “I am?” she asked.
I laughed lightly. Not a bitter, mean laugh, but one full of disbelief. “WellIfuckin’ love you. Your friends love you—fuck, even Gauge loves you, though he doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
“For what?”
“For loving me.”
