Page 219 of Malice and Surrender
“Fuck I could eat you all day,” I said, and I meant every word. I was tempted to see if I could make her cum a third time, but my knee was starting to throb.
I closed my eyes and gave her the same treatment, making sure every last bit of her release was licked up and earned a few sighs.
“I don’t want to get up, but I guess we should get a few things packed,” I said, and Raine nodded.
“If I could move.”
I laughed as she moaned and slowly stood. She was always stunning, but her entire body was flushed, with her cheeks a bright red, and I loved that I put that look of pure satisfaction on her face. There was nothing more satisfying.
“On the bright side, we can always try another knee-safe position when we’re done packing,” I said, wanting to throw packing out the window and just fuck the rest of the day away. It seemed like a perfect stress killer.
“I could definitely be talked into that.” The corner of Raine’s mouth pulled up in a devious grin as she pulled on her underwear. “Shit, I wasn’t even thinking. I don’t have any boxes.”
“That’s okay. I’ll get some. I know a place not far from here that sells them, and I need to go to the hardware store anyway. The faucets in the lower level bathroom are shot, and I need to get a new set,” I said, slipping my T-shirt over my head. “Why don’t you start organizing what you want to take and what to throw out?”
“I like that plan. Can you grab me a coffee when you’re out?”
“Sure.” I finished tying my sneakers and stood. I quickly used the washroom to clean up and then met Raine at her door. “I’ll be about forty minutes, I think,” I said and gave her a kiss. “I love you.”
The smile that always lit up a room beamed up at me. I never wanted to let her go, but it was just the hardware store and coffee. I’d be back soon. Sighing, I kissed her again. “I love you too.”
Kaivan
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The beer bottles exploded, and I covered my ears to block the sound, but after being out here for the last one hour and eleven minutes, I couldn’t stop my ears from ringing. Father held out his gun to me. “That son, is how you shoot a gun.”
“I already told you I don’t want to shoot a gun. They kill people,” I said, annoyance with this day seeping into my tone. I didn’t see his hand coming, but I felt the crack as he smacked me across the face and knocked me to the ground.
“What did I tell you?”
I held my cheek, my eyes stinging, but I refused to cry. My father said that only women and pussies cried, and I wouldn’t be either. I glared up at my father. I wanted to ride my bike or surf with my friends, but he told me I needed to learn to be a man instead. What did shooting a gun have to do with being a man?
“Come on, get up. You’re still a fucking terrible shot,” he said. “Such an embarrassment.”
My father’s friends from the motorcycle club and their sons laughed as they drank off to the side. They were all older than I was. The youngest of the group was five years, six months, and nine days older than me. None of them wanted me to hang around, and I didn’t like them either. They all wanted to be like their dads and be part of the motorcycle club. I had other interests that didn’t involve riding around on a Harley and hanging out in a smoky clubhouse.
Mom hated that my father was always gone, and I’d heard them arguing when he was home about sweetbutts. I didn’t know what they were until he dragged me to the club to hang out with the other kids for events like Tony’s birthday. I quickly learned what they were and what they did when Tony’s dad got a sweetbutt to suck his dick for his eighteenth birthday in front of all of us. Of course, my father smiled and said he’d do better for me on my eighteenth. Whatever that was supposed to mean.
I glanced over as they made jokes and laughed. I hated that they always came when my father dragged me out here into the middle of the swamp with the bugs, snakes, and other strange crap. We’d all take turns shooting empty bottles like it was the best thing ever, but I could think of at least ten things I wanted to do instead.
Pushing myself to my feet, I dusted off my hands on my jeans and took the gun that felt heavy compared to my plastic water ones. He pointed his hand toward the target of bottles set up on wooden stumps. For just a moment, I wondered what it would be like to turn the gun on him instead of the bottles. Would he treat me like a man, then?
“Now shoot, and try to hit something this time. The only thing that isn’t safe from you is a barn wall,” he said, then laughed with multiple voices echoing.
As I raised the gun to shoot the bottles, the stumps and swamp disappeared.
I blinked and stared down at my mom’s body lying on the living room floor. I looked at my hand, but the gun was gone, and I dropped to my knees beside her.
The roar of a motorcycle was loud, and I could just make out a man on a bike outside. His laughter was almost as loud as the bike as he rode away into the dark.
“Mom, how can I help?”
“You, you killed me,” she said, her voice wet, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.
“No, no, it wasn’t me.” I pressed on the wound, but she batted my hands away and started to laugh. “Mom, stop it. I need to stop the bleeding.”
“You’re a killer, you’ve always been a killer, and it’s what you will always be,” she snarled as she pushed my hands away again. “I should’ve left you with your father years ago. Now look at me. It’s all your fault.”
