Torn - Part 1: The Torn Series (7 page)

His wicked grin told me that he knew the effect he was having. I rocked my hips against him and he muttered encouragement, curving his fingers just so, stroking me with his thumb, working all my most sensitive places as I moved. I gripped his bicep tight - I could barely get my hand halfway around it, and it bulged in my weak grip. “That’s it, hang onto me and let go. Come for me.”

It took mere moments for me to reach that euphoric place - my body tightened and coiled as my eyes locked on him, his green gaze intensely focused and dark with his own need. I writhed against his hand, took a last, shuddering breath, and cried out as my core blazed with heat and pleasure. My grip on his arm pulsed with the climax coursing through me.

It had never been like that. Never that intense. I lay still as if in shock, feeling my body tremble all over. It was so much, yet not enough. I craved more,
needed
more. “Mallet…”

“I’m right here, babe.” I heard the unmistakable sound of a foil packet ripping open. Then he was on me in a flash, rolling me onto my back and hovering over my body.

"Ready for me, Riley?" he asked, positioning himself between my legs. He teased me with the hot tip of his erection, prodding my folds and pushing himself only a fraction inside.

"So ready," I breathed. I dug my fingers into his strong shoulders, savoring the feel of his rippling muscles as he held himself over me. God, he was driving me crazy. I tilted my hips up, trying to urge him deeper. "Please..."

He slammed home, hot and hard and so thick. So perfect. I moaned with something like relief - I needed this. I’d had no idea, but I needed it.

His hips ground into me, each hard thrust taking my breath away. I wrapped my legs around his waist, earning a deep groan as he sank deeper.

I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut, utterly lost in the sensations, in how perfectly he fit and filled me. It was as if we were built to be joined. The fact that he knew what he was doing was just a magnificent bonus. I clenched my body around his and said, voice strangled, “More.”

He gave it to me; he pushed harder, faster. I was close to climaxing again already. His mouth found mine and he nipped my bottom lip before drawing his tongue across it. “Yes,” I hissed, the bed rocking beneath me with his furious thrusts. I grabbed his ass, just as strong and taut as the rest of him, and pulled him deeper, harder still. He cursed as his head sank against my neck.

This was what it was like to be taken by a confident man - someone who knew how to give pleasure and how to take it. He ground against me with each thrust, used his body to rub all my most sensitive and secret places. My nails dug into his skin as I clung to him and urged him on.

“So fucking good, baby,” he grated. His hand squeezed between us and his thumb circled my clit, that button of pleasure that would inevitably drive me over the edge. I cried out, and I came hard, holding him as close as I could as my body was wracked with intense waves of bliss.

“Fuck, Riley,” he cursed. I felt his own pleasure surge through him before my body began to relax. We clung to each other, shuddering and gasping, holding onto the intense sensations for as long as we could.

I collapsed first, limp as a ragdoll, finally sated. I stared at the ceiling as I caught my breath. "I'm going to write a song about your dick."

The bed shook with his laughter. “Holy shit.” He sank next to me and pulled my arm across his chest. “Not the response I was expecting but I’ll take the compliment.” He kissed the top of my head. “You’re incredible, baby. That hot little body drove me absolutely crazy. I couldn’t last any longer.”

I laughed. “I might have fainted if it went on any longer. I don’t know if I just had an orgasm or a stroke.” He laughed again, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

His breathing became steady as our giggles subsided. I guessed that meant he wanted me to stick around for a while - maybe for round two, or maybe just to sleep for a few hours. Either way, nestled comfortably against his side, I wasn’t about to complain.

I didn’t want to move at all.

CHAPTER 6

The sun was just starting to make an appearance when I stirred awake. I haphazardly threw my clothes on and tiptoed my way through the dark apartment to the bathroom just around the corner. The place looked clean enough from what I could see - there was a pizza box on the coffee table but the couch was clear of the dirty socks and t-shirts that I’d expect in a bachelor pad.

When I reached for the doorknob, the door swung open on its own. I swallowed a yelp as a man stepped out. Another fighter from the look of him - bigger than Mallet, and taller - scary, even - he was all thick muscles and dark tattoos.

He recoiled when he looked at my face. Then he chuckled. “Have a good night.” I watched him walk away, shaking his head, before ducking inside the bathroom to check my face. Did I look that bad?

Sure enough, flicking on the lights revealed some serious raccoon eyes.
Way to go.
I’d thought that damn eyeliner was supposed to be waterproof. I suppose discount drug store brands can only get you so far.

It was unsalvageable. I returned to Mallet with a scrubbed-clean face and wondered if he’d even recognize me when he woke. Hesitating in his doorway, I wondered if he’d even want to see me this morning at all. No one talked about this part - was it expected that I slip out and quietly go home to sleep? Was I supposed to stay? Just crawl right back into bed with him? I knew he wouldn’t like the thought of me wandering out alone at this hour - and I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea, either. Maybe I’d sneak out in another hour or two.

I frowned. One night stands were hard.

He grunted and rolled over to look at me. “Get back in here.” Well that settled it.
Thank goodness he’s so blunt.
“No clothes allowed.”
Okay, sometimes too blunt.
I stripped and tried to modestly cover myself as I climbed back beneath the sheets.

“You have another roommate?” I asked as I slipped into his arms.

“Yeah. Lockett. He bother you?”

“No,” I chuckled, “I think I scared him.”

Memory of Lockett’s bewildered expression faded as Mallet pulled back tight against his chest. He kneaded my breasts, plucked my nipples lightly until they were hard, straining peaks once more. I wiggled my ass against his growing erection and he loosed a grunt of pleasure against my ear. “I’m guessing this means you don’t want me to leave?” I joked. “Don’t you have things to do today?”

“Mmhmm.” He brushed my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck. “I have to do you again.” I giggled. “I have to take you to breakfast. But then yeah, I’ve gotta get to Lee’s. But you have me for the morning. Unless you’ve got to run somewhere?”

I rolled over so I was facing him. “Nope. Got a shift at the bar but that’s not until five.”

“Perfect,” he grinned.

○●○●○●○●○

He did just as he’d promised. When he took me again that morning it was less frantic, our wild passion from the night before tempered by our early-morning drowsiness and slight hangovers. But the sparks were still there - the same need and the same fire. My fingers dug into his taut skin; our sweat mingled; my lips parted and my voice loosed a song of euphoria as he brought me over the edge once more. I thought my body would never stop pulsing; I didn’t want it to.

Then, as if we were a nice and normal couple, he took me to breakfast as he’d promised.

“Coffee!” I exclaimed with a manic enthusiasm when the waitress appeared. We were at an old neighborhood diner, one that had so far survived the recent influx of fancy brunch joints.

“Coffee,” he said like a saner person. She left us with our menus.

Looking across the table at his handsome face as he scanned the laminated pages, I could feel my normal state of awkward uncertainty returning. What did this breakfast mean? What if I said something stupid to screw it up?

“When do you fight again?” I asked, eager to get him talking before words started falling out of my mouth.

“Soon, I hope,” he said, “I took a pretty bad battering the last time. You saw. Surly’s making me wait for some of that to finish healing before I get in the ring again.”

“He’s your coach?”

“We’re each other’s coaches,” he grinned. “And managers. We work for free so we’re all we can afford.” I remembered that they weren’t making much money off of their fights. Much as the girls and I weren’t making much doing the gigs we were doing.

What did an artist or an athlete have to do to catch a break?

I shook my head. "Why do you do it? The fighting, I mean." He gave me a searching look that made me regret the question.
Too loaded. But how was I supposed to know that?

"Because I'm good at it," he said, looking back down at the menu. "Why do you play guitar?"

"Bass," I corrected him."Because I’m good at it." I smirked, and his smile finally returned. "Because I like the way it feels. I get to create something loud and beautiful and share it with people."

"Through punk covers of bad pop songs?"

"We all have to start somewhere!" I said brightly, then, "I really want to write my own music. I'm just... not there yet." I shrugged.

He nudged my knee with his beneath the table. "Why not?"

"I don't have much to say, I guess. I'm pretty boring." I said it sing-song, trying to make it should like less of a complaint. And it wasn't a complaint - it was just a truth that I was actively trying to change.

Going home with Mallet certainly wasn't something old Alexa would have done.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” he said with a wink.

You just don’t know me very well.
I kept that thought to myself. Self-deprecation was tiring to listen to. If any good had come from my relationship with Tyler, it was that lesson.

We chatted idly over eggs and bacon about nothing in particular. I learned that he liked classic rock and heavy metal and - somewhat surprisingly - cooking.

I told him a little about my time in college but there really wasn’t much to tell. I tried not to talk about Tyler much, though he’d dominated most of my free time back then. Talking non-stop about your ex was a good way to drive another guy away, and fast. Even I knew that.

All in all though I didn’t learn very much about him. Nothing about his family or his upbringing, little about school, less about his future plans beyond “getting noticed.” And he seemed distracted when we parted.
Probably worried about when he’ll get to fight again,
I thought, watching him striding away.

I thought we’d had a good time and I was mostly sure I hadn’t put my foot in my mouth in any major way.

But he hadn’t even asked for my number.

○●○●○●○●○

"We're signed up!" Robin announced when I joined them in the basement of her building in Brooklyn. They could only afford the real rehearsal space sporadically, and most of the time had to settle for practicing in the empty, unfinished basement until the neighbors complained.

"Signed up for what?" It was two days later and I was still all abuzz with energy and excitement over my night with Mallet. I’d shaken off the fact that he didn’t get my contact information. I hadn’t asked for his either, to be fair, and we would be seeing each other again when the girls and I played our next show.

And I knew he wanted to keep things casual. I did, too. So I decided to at least tell myself that all was cool and all was well.

"Battle of the Bands!" she squealed. She dropped her cymbal case with a crash for emphasis. "It's sponsored by a bunch of bars right around here."
Great. Brooklyn
. Not that I didn't love Robin's trendy neighborhood. Hell, I was jealous. But weekend travel between the boroughs could be torture.

"They saw our video?" Jen asked.

"Yup. Sent a guy to watch our show last weekend, too. Had to check out the new bass player." She winked at me.

"What is it, like a contest?" I asked.

"Yeah. Winners get money, free rehearsal space for a year. It's a pretty big deal." Robin was positively bouncing. "Let me get the rest of my drums and we'll start talking setlist." She could only really practice on her electronic drums. A real rehearsal space would provide a full kit for her to use, so I could understand her excitement.

"So," Jen said, turning to me with a wicked grin. Her guitar was plugged into an amp that looked older than I was, and she sat cross-legged on a metal folding chair. "You didn't text me any more the other night. What happened?"

I pulled over a dusty abandoned stool to sit on. "I, well..."

"Did you fuck him?"

"Jen!"

The purple-haired girl leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. "C'mon, dish!"

"We had fun," I shrugged. "We had breakfast. I haven't heard from him since."

"Girl, you don't want to hear from him." She wagged her finger in warning. "Surly's told me some stories and I’ve known him for a long time. He's not a relationship guy." She giggled. "He doesn't leave his girls unsatisfied, though."

I blinked. "Wait, have you...?"