Page 66 of Wait With Me
I reach down between us and begin shakily fumbling with his jeans, a frenzy overcoming me with every minute that ticks by that he’s not filling this ache inside me. I need him just as badly as he needs me. Pleasure will take away the guilt and anguish consuming me. I need to lose myself with his weight and his body and not think about everything I’m hiding from him and how badly this could all come to an end.
I push his jeans down his butt cheeks and fist his girth tightly in my hand, positioning him between my slit and right where I need him.
“Miles,” I cry out in a beg. “Do it.”
“Mercedes,” he growls and thrusts into me. Deep. So deep.
“Yes,” I cry out because the flesh against flesh contact is wonderful. The fullness is miraculous. The pressure is life-affirming.
“Mercedes,” he moans again and again, alternating between my name and kisses to my neck and collarbone. And it isn’t long before I feel tears prick the backs of my closed eyes. Tears of my impending doom.
He’s never going to forgive me.
Ifrown down at my phone clutched tightly in my hand, mindlessly willing it to ding. To ring. Something. Anything. It’s been days since I took Mercedes out to my house, and I haven’t heard a word from her.
I know going without a rubber is dangerous, but is she worried she caught something from me? I’m fucking clean. We even spoke more about it afterward. I never go without a condom. Even in all those years with Joce, we still always used condoms. She was so paranoid about getting pregnant, which is ironic, considering it was an accidental pregnancy she had with that rich fucker.
And I know I’ve slept around some since then, but I’ve always been careful. So fucking careful. I don’t know what came over me that night in my grandpa’s truck. I guess I just had two worlds collide. The old and the new and it felt so right, so natural, so…real. I had to have her. There. In that truck.
My gramps would have been fucking proud, too. He’d have patted me on the back and probably told me to put a ring on any girl’s finger who’d spread her legs in a vintage truck.
I laugh at that thought and take a long pull of my beer, then gesture to the bartender for another.
“Dude, have you been listening to me at all this entire time?” Sam says, turning to face me, his ginger beard long and scraggly, his eyes narrow and angry.
“Yes, I listened to you. Your uncle wants you to buy him out at Tire Depot. That’s fucking awesome, man.”
“It’s awesome for both of us, numbnuts.”
“Huh?” I reply, mindlessly ripping apart a Pearl Street Pub coaster. “What do I have to do with anything?”
“If I’m running Tire Depot, I want you by my side. Maybe as a manager or a fucking parts director. I don’t know, man. Shit, maybe you can open that vintage garage under the Tire Depot umbrella. You can finally work on classic cars more often. We can advertise it and shit. Could you imagine how cool your gramp’s truck would look in our showroom? Fucking white wall tires. Goddamn, I get hard thinking about it.”
I shake my head and hand the bartender my empty bottle when he hits me with a fresh one. “I guess that wouldn’t suck.”
“You’re damn right, it wouldn’t,” Sam bellows and clinks our bottles together. “Jesus Christ, we’d have everything in one shop. Tires, auto repair, and antique car restorations. We could advertise in Denver for that because you know people with classic cars will drive for good work. And you’re a fucking king at the classics, bro. You know this.”
I nod mindlessly, knowing what he’s saying is something we’ve dreamed about together a lot, but for some reason, I can’t get my mind off Mercedes.
“Dude!” Sam punches me hard in the shoulder.
In a flash, I’m on my feet, my rage billowing up faster than anticipated. My jaw is clenched so tight I think I hear my teeth crack.
Sam holds his hand back in surrender. “Chill the fuck out. I’m just trying to get you to snap out of this pissy mood. You need to get laid.”
“Fuck off,” I growl and drop back down on my barstool.
“It’s true. You’re pining over a fuck buddy, and it’s stupid.”
“She’s not a fuck buddy,” I growl and shove him in the arm. “Watch how you fucking speak about her. I’m not joking, man.”
“Okay, okay. But you gotta get your priorities straight. Don’t let that girl get in your head and force you to miss out on a great opportunity. I’m saying we can be business partners in the near future. I’m saying we’re going to make Boulder our bitch, and it’s going to be fucking fantastic.”
I nod solemnly and let his words sink in. It’s clear that Mercedes has been occupying all of my thoughts tonight, and that’s exactly the kind of shit I don’t need in my life. If she’s not going to call me, I’m not going to fucking stress about it. We’re casual. That’s what I wanted.
I didnotwant drama.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I smack my hand on the bar. “You’re fucking right, Sam. This is going to be awesome.”
