Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (18 page)

I smacked her hand away, and she only laughed. She sat up and straddled my left thigh, sliding a hand inside her panties. She worked herself, grinding against my leg. Her eyes hooded, her tits swaying with her motion, her jaw slackening, her face a come-on.

I recognized the desire on her features, the sensual distraction, the heightening degrees of satisfaction ratcheting up, one by one.

Her hand moved faster between her legs, her face registering every flick, every vibrating stroke. Her upcoming orgasm was to her what hits of coke had been to me.

My cocaine in all its fervor. My cocaine in its promise of the ultimate pleasure high, always promising more and more.

I am Superman. I am roaring. I can do no fucking wrong.

My cocaine had wiped out all my thousand and one failures, obliterating that mudslide of self-loathing, that glittery golden revulsion I hoarded in a special treasure chest just for me. The blow had offered that superficial surge of fullness, of blasting through all my yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows.

I thrill, I want, I need. More. More. More.

Oh, one big hungering need. Right here, now in Nina’s face.

Her features morphed as the sensations hit her, dragged through her. She panted harder, her nipples standing at attention. She grabbed my hand, pressing it over a breast and squeezing it there. Her other hand rubbed faster over her clit as she rocked her pelvis back and forth over my thigh.

I squeezed her tit, her hand pressing over mine, as she rode my leg.

But it was Tania’s body that filled my hand, her unhurried moans and whimpers that I could still hear as I’d sunk my fingers into her wet heat, lavishing her smooth skin with kisses. Her flesh trembling as I held her.

How long had it been since a man satisfied her?

I remembered feeling the goose bumps racing over her flesh, her body calling out to mine with every moan and press and twist, wanting more of what I was giving. I’d smelled her excitement, her hunger.

“Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah…” Nina chanted, breaking the spell.

Ah, shit. Let’s get this done.

I tugged on her nipple, twisting it hard, and smacked her other tit. She let out a high-pitched cry, her back arching up. She liked that shit.

I pressed my thigh against her, and her body stiffened.

“Fuck! Fuck yes!” she moaned loudly.

She finally shoved off my leg and laughed as she dropped back onto the mattress. Her hair was over her face, a hand rubbing down her throat to her middle.

“That’ll have to do for now, huh?” she said, brushing her hair from her face before her hands flopped back over her head.

“Give it a few more months, and then you can go find yourself a fuck toy.”

“Anything you say, honey.” She let out a groan as she leaned over the edge of the bed, her hand searching through a tote bag. “In the meantime”—she unzipped a pouch and brandished her hot-pink two-pronged vibrator in the air—“I have this fuck toy. Next best thing to a cock. There are times when it’s even better.”

“I’m happy for you.” I shot up from the bed and ripped off my shirt and shorts.

“You know, I read on the Internet that if you get used to getting off with the intensity of a vibrator, ordinary touching and fucking just won’t do it for you anymore. You get desensitized or something. Imagine that, huh? Kinda freaky.” She dropped back on the bed again and bent her legs. “But, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” She positioned the vibrator between her legs and let out a whimper. “You can watch if you want. You used to like to watch.”

“I’ve got to take a shower and get moving.”

I headed for the bathroom. I showered, jerked off to the Tania-coming-on-the-motel-bed video clip I had on constant replay in my head, washed up, dried off, and went back into the room where I threw on a pair of my jeans that lay crumpled on the floor.

Nina—her face flushed, a sheen of sweat over her skin—lazed, naked, on the bed, tapping on her cell phone. The vibrator was tossed at her side on the mattress.

Young girls today. They had an orgasm or two, and immediately, they’ve got to text about it.

“You going to do some laundry?” I asked, stretching my last clean T-shirt over my head.

Nina remained focused on her phone, her fingers tapping away. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure.”

“I’m off. Call me if you need anything.”

“’Kay,” came out of her mouth without her looking up from her phone. “Oh, hey, what’s with the guitar?” she asked, glancing up at me.

I flung open the door. “Don’t touch it. It’s mine.”

“MY TWO BEST FRIENDS
are meeting tonight. End of story. One of you is either out of town or in the thick of work. So ridiculous. Lenore’s finally back from visiting her son in LA for several months. The first ladies’ night at the Tingle needs to be celebrated. What could be better?”

“What could be better?” I muttered as I raised my apple martini at her.
How can I possibly turn down the event of the century—male strippers at the club-run titty bar?

“That’s more like it!” Grace clinked my glass with her beer.

“Absolutely!” Jill clinked her tall glass of cranberry and soda and lime against ours.

Jill was a month away from delivering Grace’s baby, and her baby bump was now huge and very round, stretching her clingy dress. We’d surprised her and Grace with a baby shower last week, and now, this would be the last girls’ night out for a long while, so the timing was perfect.

Grace, Jill, and I had arrived first. The other old ladies—Mary Lynn, Suzi, Dee, Nina, and Alicia—had arrived soon after. The nightclub was packed and very loud. The women of the Black Hills were ready to party.

My stomach twinged at the sight of Butler talking in Nina’s ear as he gripped her upper arm. Nina made a face and mouthed off at him, twisting her arm out of his hold.
A tiff?
Maybe tonight would prove to be far more interesting than sitting at home, crunching numbers while listening to the television blaring in the background or wandering around the Internet. Again.

Nina marched over to our table, her face tight, and threw herself in the last empty chair.

I leaned into Grace. “What’s Butler doing here?”

“He’s been managing the Tingle. He took over for Kicker.”

“Seriously? The man had a serious drug and good-time addiction for years. What the hell is he thinking?”

“It wasn’t his idea. It was Jump’s. A test for good behavior. Otherwise…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And how’s he holding up amid all the booze and boobs?”

“Great, from what I hear.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“You’re glad?”

“Of course.” I drained my glass. “He’s come a long way.”

“Yes, he has.”

The last thing I wanted to do was be at a peen-ogling party with Butler present.

Grace and Jill had repeatedly invited me to club get-togethers, but I always had a ready-made excuse. The first one I’d gotten out of was that big club party months before when Butler and Nina had been officially welcomed back into the One-Eyed Jacks. I’d found a couple of estate sales just over the border in Wyoming and made it a weekend trip.

Although I should have been at that particular party, seeing as how my brother had screwed things up between the clubs by manhandling Jill when he’d found out she was pregnant, dragging her from our house to the club at gunpoint to mouth off to the Jacks. I could barely believe my ears when my mother had called me first thing the following morning and told me all about it.

The rest of the parties were the usual barbecues or community charity events, and I had managed to be busy for almost each one. The less distraction, the better.

Of course, I had attended Jill and Boner’s wedding a couple of months ago. It had been a beautiful morning at Sylvan Lake, the two of them so emotional, so very happy. And then the party afterward at the club under a white tent in the middle of the track, just like Dig and Grace’s wedding.

Butler had brought me a glass of wine. He’d held a can of soda in his other hand.

“You’re not taking off after this wedding, are you?”

“No, I’m not, Blondie.”

He laughed. “Good.”

“Are you taking off?”

“Here to stay.” He raised his chin at me. “Same as you.”

We clinked drinks, our eyes on each other.

“There she is!” A grin lit up Grace’s face, her focus trained on a dark-haired woman snaking her way through the tables to us.

Lenore had severely dyed black hair streaked with pink, pinned up into a sort of retro beehive do, with several thin hairbands at the crown of her head. She sported a dizzying web of colored tattoos all over her chest and up to the base of her throat with more around her arms.

“Lenore!” Grace hugged her.

“I finally made it! The traffic was really bad on the way over here,” Lenore said on a throaty laugh. “There’s a line outside.”

My scalp prickled. I knew that sexy voice. I knew that spiked rose tattoo laced on the top of her breasts, peeking out of her fantastic black bustier. Black eyeliner along with dark red lipstick gave her a stark, intriguing look, and long turquoise earrings reflected the startling color of her large eyes. I knew those incredible blue-green eyes. I’d never, ever forget them for as long as I lived.

My stomach clenched.

“Lenore, this is Tania. And, Tania, this is Lenore, who has the lingerie store in town you love so much—Lenore’s Lace. Finally, you two get to meet.”

Lenore’s grin faded, a dramatically defined eyebrow arching high.

Yes, it’s me.

I raised my chin and pushed my lips up into some sort of a smile.
Lenore
was Rena.

I remembered those amazing eyes once fraught with terror and flooding with ugly tears. I remembered those long hands, not manicured, not laced with tattoos, but bloodied, scabbed, and clawing at me.

“Please help. Please,”
she’d pleaded with me when we’d first met.

“Lenore?” I asked, a tentative quality to my voice that I just couldn’t stop in time.

She nodded slightly, her matte-red lips parting. “Yes.”

My face blazed into a grin. “Grace has told me so much about you. I love your store.”

But my first words to her,
to
Rena
, over twenty years ago had been,
“Yes, yes, I’ll help you.”

“Oh, thanks,” said Lenore, standing next to Grace. “It’s good to meet you, Tania. Finally. Grace has told me a lot about you, too. Congrats on your store. When are you opening?”

We were smooth. Yes, we were.

“Next month, hopefully.”

Tricky slung an arm around Lenore’s neck, planting a kiss on the side of her face. Her extraordinary blue-green eyes remained on me.

“You want a drink, hon?” Tricky asked Lenore.

“Geez, Tricky, it’s ladies’ night. We’ve got this covered! Stand off,” said Grace, laughing.

Lenore flashed Tricky a smile and kissed him. A raunchy deep kiss.

I swigged my martini. I was envious of such a simple act of intimacy, envious of that shared affection. I forgot what that felt like. I’d stopped expecting it. Worse, I’d stopped getting sad by the lack of it in my life.

Tricky smoothed a hand down her hip as he whispered in her ear. He sauntered back to the bar where I’d spotted other club members loitering.

Lenore’s eyes slid back to mine. Serious. Stealthy.

A topless waiter stud brought a tray of shots to our table, and Grace and Dee helped distribute them.

Lenore leaned in to me, a hand on my elbow. “Nobody knows. Nobody here knows anything about who I really am,” she whispered. “Have you ever said anything to Grace?”

“No. I didn’t even realize you were here, that you were…
you
.”

“Good.”

I lowered my voice. “I’ve never said a word to anyone. I’m sticking to that.”

“Okay.” Her eyes shifted around us. “Thank you.”

“How are you? You look great.”

“I’m good. Things are very good.”

“You and Tricky?”

She shrugged. “We hang out off and on. It’s fun.”

“Good for you.”

“Grace told me you’re getting a divorce.”

“Almost there.”