Crushed Ice (17 page)

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Authors: Eric Pete

BOOK: Crushed Ice
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Chapter 36
The two of us slept with only a meal of convenience store leftovers last night, too exhausted to forage after our impromptu trip. To make up for it, I got up at the crack of dawn and visited Daniel, convincing him to let me borrow his truck for errands.
I traveled first to the new Wal-Mart on the north side of T or C that he'd recommended. Definitely more conveniences than I remembered as a small child. As discreet as I could be in a town of just over six thousand, I slipped in to pick up some clothes and toiletries. Not knowing whether my accounts were being monitored, I stuck to the basics with my cash, delaying the purchase of another laptop for now.
Along my return route, I stopped at the Cuchillo Café on Broadway for a batch of breakfast tacos, hoping I hadn't kept Collette hungry for too long. Mindful of my speed, I made my way back to the motel.
Daniel was watering the barren planter box outside the office when I returned his keys.
“Thanks,” I said, wanting to keep conversation to a minimum.
“How do you plan on leaving T or C without a car?” he asked.
“We have one. It just broke down. Should be fixed in a couple of days.”
“That's how a lot of people come to be residents of this place, amigo,” he joked. “Cars break down and they decide to stay. Good life here. Quiet. Thought your madre might stay.”
I looked back at him, remembering doors being slammed on me as he and my mother “talked” in one of the rooms she was cleaning. Happened often. And almost every time, Mary would take care of me, dispelling any bad notions I had, shielding a young mind from some things a person did just to get by in the world. Years past, I wanted to pay Mary a visit, to thank her for what she did for me, but I learned she'd already passed away.
“I'm glad she didn't stay,” I commented simply to spite him, conflicted in that my mother might still be alive . . . and I might have turned out different, if the town that named me had held its grip on her. But Leila Marie had dreams to chase. Better to run to her dreams then live with her nightmares, I guess.
Outside our room, I put down my grocery bags and such, scanning the parking lot for anything out of the ordinary before turning the key. I grinned, remembering pretending as a child that each motel room was a portal to another place and that keys such as the one in my hand were magical.
“Collette?” I called out upon entering our portal to a place of temporary safety. The curtains were still closed, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust. With the light of day beaming in, I grimaced at the old wood paneling that adorned the walls, and the dirty air vents overhead. Collette's dress was still on the floor beside her bed. I heard the rushing water coming from the bathroom, and set our breakfast on the wobbly table before bringing in the other bags. The TV was on the local news, just going to a commercial that teased an upcoming episode of
Access Hollywood.
“I'm back and I brought food. Real food,” I shouted over the din of the shower, continuing to give Collette her space. Most of the night, when I wasn't unconscious myself, I watched her sleep restlessly from my bed. I would've held her, tried to calm her, if sure it wouldn't have riled her up more. Once she was safe, I would be coming for those responsible.
In the meantime, I set out making Collette's surroundings more bearable, fishing items from the Wal-Mart bags. I was nearly finished when the shower ended.
“Truth?”
“Yeah, I'm here.” I waited during the long pause that followed. I could hear her fumbling, but knew her terms from the beginning:
I'm blind, not helpless. A strong woman, not some porcelain object. When I need your help, I'll ask. If I'm about to break, I'll let you know.
“Um . . . I don't know this place too well.”
I peered into the cracked bathroom door. Collette stood in the old shower, her damp body in need of the towel that had slipped off the rack. Unaccustomed to the unfamiliar, she let out a deep sigh, causing her full breasts to rise and fall, while the leaky faucet drip, drip, dripped. She sniffled, trying to fight back tears, but flow they did. She quickly wiped them away, taking another deep breath.
“Need a hand?” I asked, making myself known.
“Yes. How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.”
“Knew it. I smell salsa.” She chuckled, pretending her emotional state was a trivial issue.
“Goes with the breakfast tacos I picked up. But if it's irritating your sensitive nose, I can throw it out,” I teased.
“Don't you dare!” she scolded, color returning to her face. “As hungry as I am, you won't have to worry about whoever's chasing you.”
“You're ready to eat, I take it.”
“Duh. Can you hand me a fresh towel? My other one fell on the floor and I'm afraid of what might be down there.”
“Smart girl,” I said, grabbing another towel. I extended it in front of her to allow her to step into me. “Right in front of you. Now, watch your step out the tub.”
Collette followed my advice, entering the towel, but continued until we wound up in an embrace. She relinquished her hold on the towel, instead placing her hands to my face. She knew it would fall if I chose, but I held it tight around her body. She read my face again, as haggard as it was, but this time with intimate knowledge she hadn't known before. I closed my eyes, shuddering at the notion of being laid bare before her touch, as delicate fingers processed and interpreted my features. Sensing my uneasiness, she pulled my face closer, drawing out the poison of my tortured soul with a succulent, forceful kiss.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For protecting me.”
“Thank you for not giving up on me,” I responded, choking up. Then something almost foreign to me occurred.
“You're crying,” Collette whispered, seeming fascinated.
“No, I'm not,” I quickly said. “It's just sweat.”
She touched the damp mark on my cheek, tracking it back to my eye. Its mirror image was on the other side of my face. She licked at it. “Don't be afraid to feel. I'm not going anywhere,” she whispered in my ear, making my knees weak. She pulled the towel separating us from my hand. Let it fall on the questionable floor as she pressed harder against me. “Feel me, Truth,” she voiced, ancient, primal . . . siren-like in her command. I couldn't help but to rise.
I reached down, touching her inner thigh with the back of my hand. My knuckles brushed back and forth, grazing her smooth skin ever so briefly. In response to my secret code, her legs parted ever so much, allowing me entry to her treasure. I used my index finger, probing first, rather than rushing in and raiding. I moved back and forth across the fold of her lips, stopping at her clit, which I gently coaxed. With each journey of my finger, Collette came, dampness descending. Her clit now plump like a Ball Park Frank, I slid my fingers inside her, eliciting the sweetest moan as her simmer rose to a boil. She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.
When I found her spot, I pressed. Collette gasped, her bottom lip trembling, prodding me to kiss her. We meshed, in sync to the tango our tongues performed. Close. Hot. Intimate.
One.
I removed my fingers from inside her, placing them in her mouth. Together, we tasted of her nectar—she as she sucked from my digits, and me as I continued my plunder of her lust-covered lips.
“I . . . I can't stand it any longer,” Collette said, gulping for air. The tiny bathroom was depleted of oxygen, consumed by the fire of attraction made white hot by our bond this day.
Taking her by the hand, I led her out of the bathroom. Her bed was transformed from this morning when she left it. It now had fresh sheets and a comforter I'd purchased from the store. Hastily lit candles permeated the air with soft, soothing smells I knew would ease her state of mind. Just my attempt at making this minute corner of the world better, rather than rending it asunder, as was my core instinct. I stood silent, letting Collette process what had occurred. She felt the comforter first, confused initially, before letting a smile crease her beautiful mouth. She'd already smelled the change in atmospherics, and put her hand over her mouth in shock.
“Truth, you didn't have to do this. This is so sweet of you,” she gushed.
“I know we're in a dump, and this is just lipstick on a pig, but—”
“Shut up,” she said. With one hand, she grasped the comforter and sheets I'd affixed and pulled them back. With the other, she took me by the arm and pulled me onto her private isle, where she fixed herself atop me. She was sharing. I was no longer isolated. “No apologies. No excuses. Not now,” she chanted as my dick swelled between her legs.
I undid my belt, hastily sliding my pants and underwear down my legs. Collette leaned over me, sucking and kissing across my exposed abs and chest as she inched my shirt up. I gripped those hips, refusing to lose the intense sensation we were generating from contact. So hot and moist, she was. So determined, I was, to fill her void with all I had and then some.
When my shirt was over my head, Collette feasted on my neck, determined to leave the mark of young love, of passion, of hot nights in secret places, of steamy windows in backseats—things I may have had if I'd attended school, but was left only to read of. Until now, only the people I was portraying, the false shells I wore, had experienced intimacy of this level: beyond the mere physical.
I lifted Collette slightly to allow me to enter her, but paused.
“What? What is it?” she asked, her hips moving about as she waited to receive me.
“Want me to get a condom?” I asked, hesitating. I'd been tested and was clean, but people can be infected with things other than diseases, things such as a dark soul of which others should be spared.
“No, no,” she said. “Put it in.”
I entered, feeling the tremors ripple through her body and around my dick as she yielded. She was so wet and inviting that I had to focus to keep from losing myself. I took my thumb, nuzzling her clit as she learned my rhythm and matched it. Felt her tighten and release with each sensual bob of her body atop me.
“Oh, shit. Damn,” I muttered, blinking rapidly as she took control. In spite of its new adornments, the bed was still long in the tooth. It protested, creaking and sproinging loudly as we tested its tolerance. When it wobbled some, I grasped its sides and held on.
“Mm-hmm,” she replied, acknowledging the understood praise I'd given her. “Right there. Right there.
Shit
! Right there,” she chanted, licking her lips then smiling wickedly. Sweat drizzled down her sexy body and onto my hands as I grabbed her breasts. The harder I squeezed, the harder she came. Before she knew it, the orgasms removed all reason and control from her body, crashing her ceaselessly onto my dick over and over.
“I . . . I . . .” I honestly don't fucking know what I was trying to say.
“Truth, I . . . I . . . want to feel you come. Come . . . for . . . me,” she panted in between the breathless incantations I'd stopped trying to understand.
I sat up, keeping Collette in my lap, then rolled her on her back. “Oh!” she gasped, taken aback as I placed her legs over my shoulders, bending her in half.
“You like?” I asked as I began bumping and grinding, pushing up deeper in her pussy each time.
“Yes,” she gasped as I felt her ass cheeks quake beneath me.
“You want?”
“Uh . . . huh.”
I plunged my tongue down her throat, kissing her passionately. With her feet pointed to the water-stained ceiling above, I pumped harder and harder, my balls slapping against her ass, damp from her ever-flowing honey. We continued kissing, afraid of getting off the rocket we rode to untold pleasure. But I knew eventually the rocket would explode, sending its cargo spewing into her intoxicating goodness.
“Oh, baby! Oh, baby! Yes, baby!” she cackled, relinquishing all control, giving up as she gave it up. From deep in my groin I knew it was coming. Torn between easing off or relinquishing control myself, I gave in to the latter.
“I! I! I . . .” My eyes rolled back in my head, giving the old bed a final loud creak as I exploded inside Collette. I let her legs down off my shoulders before collapsing beside her, totally spent and incoherent.
Unable to speak, we just lay there, drifting in and out of lucidity. Two rag dolls tossed haphazardly across the bed. Once able to move, we'd really need the now less-than-hot breakfast tacos on the table. Collette found enough energy to nudge closer, where she burrowed into my chest. I draped an arm around her, content to remain in the moment.
Not as much time had passed as I thought.
Access Hollywood
was still on television, the inflections in Shaun Robinson's voice keeping me from full-on REM. I was intent on ignoring her, rather than getting up and looking for the remote, when I picked up on the subject of their feature story.

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