Damsel in Distress (2 page)

She didn’t drag him into a bedroom. Didn’t even urge him to the sectional leather sofa four feet away. She sucked his tongue down the back of her throat, placed both hands on his shoulders and leaped. In a nanosecond she’d hovered her waiting wetness over him. In another second, she plunged downward, wrapping her juicy heat around him and closing him in a womblike embrace. His cock slid easily inside and Shawn’s knees nearly buckled. The only way this could be any f-ing nicer would be if they were marr—

She began pumping. Up. Down. Up. He hoped she came fast; it would be sexual demolition if he couldn’t hold it till she gleaned every ounce of pleasure from this.

One more. Two. Three.
Please hurry
, he almost shouted. She thrust down the fourth time. The walls of her vagina squeezed, pulsated, squeezed some more. They climaxed together, each with the vengeance of an earthquake. Carmen threw back her head and squealed. The sound twisted his eardrums and clamped off the ebbing waves of his orgasm.

“Your neighbors are going to think I’m butchering you.”

Carmen unwound her legs from his back and jumped to the floor. She peeled the condom off his penis and bent and kissed his flaccid flesh. He tried to pull away—limp dicks weren’t the most attractive things. But Carmen had hold of it with both hands. She touched it to the bridge of her nose, slid it down, down, and jammed it in her mouth and sucked. He nearly came again.

The L word shot onto the back of his tongue.

No, no, screamed the conscious side of his brain. Don’t scare her away.

Carmen released the suction and let his dick thump against his sack. She pulled up his clothes and raced to the kitchen. He hoped she’d come back with a beer, but she’d only rid herself of the condom. She gripped his chin with both hands, kissed the corner of his mouth and opened the front door.

He knew he stared at it as if he’d never seen a door before. He’d never been in a wham-bam-thank-you-sir situation and wasn’t sure how to react. Should he say thanks? Ask for an encore? Invite her out?

More than anything he felt hurt. In his mind, he’d been formulating their future. Planning what colleges the kids would attend. She’d only been…what—thanking him for helping with the aquarium?

She held the door open, an expectant expression on her swollen lips.

“Carmen.”

“Shawn, you were great.”

“Carmen, I—”

“Don’t say it, Shawn. I don’t believe in relationships. I’ve seen too many bad ones over the years. People always get hurt.” With that, she nudged him in the stomach with the palm of her hand. He fell backward into the hall. The door shut in his face.

A door opened down the hall. A curly redhead poked out. He stepped away from the door so they wouldn’t think he was trying to break it down. After all, she’d screeched like a banshee less than five minutes ago. Dejectedly he strode to his car.

Carmen leaned against the door, feeling his warmth oozing through from the other side. She knew he was still standing there, waiting, hoping she’d have a change of heart. But she’d told the truth; relationships only resulted in hard feelings, sometimes going as far as people hating each other. Even Shawn. As nice as he’d been, going above and beyond, and helping with the new tank, he’d laughed at her relationship with the fish. Didn’t he realize how much they needed her, how much they relied on her for every single thing in their lives?

Briefly she considered the hurt she’d perpetrated on Shawn. She’d seen the flash of emotion in his eyes. He’d wanted more from her.

No. She couldn’t give more. It was better this way. She waited till his car drove away and then went to sit in front of the newly set up tank. So far, all nine remaining damsels seemed okay. The vet had warned that she might lose more. She watched, eyes burning, alert for anything that might mean one was failing.

Carmen awoke on the floor, her face jammed against the wrought-iron leg of the aquarium stand. She turned on the light atop the tank, the bright fluorescent illuminated the sparkling white gravel. All the fish still swam straight and true. The vet had said it would take three days for them to recover from the shock. Today she’d replace the decorations and plants that Shawn had rinsed in her kitchen sink to be sure no shards of glass remained. Again, she felt a bit sorry for sending him away.

She called in sick to work so she could watch the fish’s progress and redecorate the tank. After breakfast and a shower, Carmen taped the background picture of a tropical beach on the back side of the tank. She pushed the colorful brick castle and the pirate treasure trunk deep into the gravel so they wouldn’t tip over on the fish. The trunk had a hole in it so the fish could swim past the fake jewels. Next came the plants. Three went back in nicely but two had died during the night. Carmen was halfway to the pet shop when she realized Shawn might be there.

Oh well, he was a smart man; she’d made it clear how things had to be. By this morning, the pain would have dulled and he’d be recovered. With any luck, he wouldn’t even be there today.

But he was. And he saw her the minute she stepped through the sliding doors. The fish room was downstairs. Carmen made sure not to make eye contact with Shawn as she walked on silent Converses to the stairway. She stopped a moment at the saltwater tank built into the wall. Six neon damsels swam happily there. She’d bet they’d never suffered the way her babies had.

“How are your fish this morning?” asked a soft, too familiar voice.

She spun around. “They’re fine so far. Two of the plants died though.”

He took her hand. “Come on, I’ll help you pick out some more.” He led her to the far left wall where several tanks of plants glimmered in the fluorescent lighting.

Shawn began naming the different varieties and their light and PH requirements. The words were saying the right things, but the tone of his voice was low and seductive. Her inner juices were on high simmer, ready to roll to a boil at a moment’s provocation.

She considered retreating with him to the bathroom and…

No, not in his place of business. She couldn’t chance him having troubles because of her. Besides, one of her rules was to never mess with the same guy more than once. But gosh, he was handsome. With those bright, intelligent eyes. Yum. Curly cocoa brown hair framed his face and accented the thick-rimmed glasses, making him look like the English teacher she’d had in ninth grade. Intellectual types—double yum.

Carmen tilted her head, shut her eyes and counted to ten, then twenty. The urge to dive into him didn’t go away. She considered counting to thirty, but it would be a waste of time. No way spouting numbers would banish this man from her head.

Shawn knew he had to go slow with this lady. Very slow. She would balk and never look back as she made tracks out of his life. This was his one final chance to convince her—well, he guessed the first step was to convince her to go out with him. The marriage proposal could wait till tomorrow.

He dropped the plastic bags of plants into a shopping bag and stepped around the counter. “Carmen.”

“Shawn. Don’t.”

“I’m going to keep asking till you say yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

“Love hurts.”

Shawn took her hand and led her away from prying ears. He made sure to stand close, so she could feel the heat emanating from him. “It doesn’t hurt everyone.”

“In my family it does. There isn’t one single successful relationship.”

“You could set a goal to be the first.” Her head started to shake before he finished the sentence. “Carmen, what is it you’re frightened of—getting hurt?”

“Yes.”

“What will happen if our relationship doesn’t work out? It will, though. I guarantee it.”

“You can’t guarantee something like that.”

“I can. I did. Now, prove me wrong. Begin by having dinner with me.”

Carmen wrenched the bag from his hand. “I can’t.”

“Tell me what can happen to you if we fail.”

“I— I’ll—”

“I didn’t think you could tell me.” He wiggled a finger in her face and spread a wide grin across his face. “Your punishment for lying, me dear, is to have dinner with me.” Before she could turn him down, he rushed to say, “Your choice. Anywhere you want to go.”

Her smile made him grin inside. She was going to say yes. Immediately his mind propelled ahead to them seated across from each other, whispering over glasses of wine, sharing bites of dessert from the same fork.

“I have this rule to never go out with anyone more than once.”

“Carmen,” he said, “you haven’t gone out with me once yet, so your argument is moot.”

“I’m sorry.” And then she was gone.

Shawn cursed so loud two customers scowled at him. He made a quick apology and rushed off to nurse his mental wounds in the bathroom. Actually, nursing wounds wasn’t the top priority. Relieving pressure was.

He locked himself in a stall and dropped the scrubs to his thighs and leaned back against the divider. Shawn released his pulsating dick from the jockeys and fisted the taut, aching flesh. A million times in the last twelve hours, he’d imagined Carmen’s final suck to his limp penis. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever felt.

Shawn closed his eyes and imagined her stripping off the used condom, wrapping her mouth around his dick and giving one bone-stiffening suck. He came in six pumps of his cock. Hot sperm splatted into the toilet, making little round rings in the water—like fish jumping.

Of course, the thought of fish got him thinking about Carmen and her magnificent mouth.

Carmen set the bag of plants on the passenger seat, making sure it wouldn’t tip over. She slammed the car door and laid her head on the steering wheel. Huge tears peppered round wet circles on her new jeans. Seemed like all she did these days was cry.

Okay, she ordered herself to grow up. Forget him.

She blinked through the blurriness and drove home to plant the new greenery in the aquarium. Then she stuck some four-day-old pizza in the microwave and ate in front of the tank.

Shawn had laughed at her obsession with the fish. So what? People acted the same—and sometimes worse—toward their dogs and nobody laughed at them. Why was it funny to love your fish?

Carmen carried the pizza box outside to the dumpster. The evening air was cool and fresh. Smog levels were low. After dumping the cardboard box over the edge and dropping the lid with a loud thud, she stood and inhaled deeply, enjoying this rare Los Angeles occurrence and loving the feel of the cooling pavement under her bare feet.

As she trekked the path up toward the building, something rustled in the bushes. “Sophie,” she called. Mrs. Bertram’s cat was always getting out. The cat didn’t come when she called. “Sophie. Come out.” Still nothing. She increased the pitch of her voice. “C’mere kitty kitty.”

It dawned on her that it might be a skunk, or even something dangerous, with big teeth, so Carmen picked up her speed. She’d go sit in her second-floor bedroom window to appreciate the weather.

The bushes rustled again. A large human body stepped out. A deep voice rumbled, “Stick up your hands. I have a gun.”

Carmen nearly wet her pants. “I don’t have any money on me. I was only taking out the trash.”

A hand gripped her arm and forced her around. Her feet tangled with each other and she toppled against the man. He smelled like body odor and onions. Bile jumped into her throat. Fingers dug her flesh, pushed her upright.

“I said, gimme your purse.”

“I told you, I don’t have one. I was just taking out the trash. People don’t normally carry handbags to the dumpster.” She held out her hands. “Here. Smell the pizza.”

He took an instinctual step backward. Carmen thrust both hands into his ribs and pushed him off balance. As he tried to right himself, she launched her body into his, and he crumpled to the ground. Carmen took off, pebbles and sharp things stabbing her feet. She ran, listening for the gunshot, waiting for bullets to hit her in the back.

Shawn had arrived home from work at seven p.m. He ate some microwaved crap and then sat to watch television. His favorite forensics show was half over. He’d seen it before and knew the storyline by heart, but every time he looked at the big widescreen on the wall, he saw Carmen’s face smiling a happy Chiclet grin at her new aquarium. Or Carmen’s shapely figure beating a path in front of the row of aquariums. Or Carmen dabbing a tissue to her nose while he vacuumed her carpet.

Enough!

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had two choices—either finish off the twelve-pack of beer and spend the night with his head in the toilet, or get the hell out of here for a while. He tied on his running shoes and stepped out the door, turning left along his usual route. Most times Shawn ran in the mornings, but tonight he’d never sleep if he didn’t wring out some of this excess energy. He dug in his toes and sprinted away.

He ran for forty-five minutes and covered a distance of just under eight miles. Sweat ran off him like his pores were faucets. His hair flopped in his face. He’d left so fast he forgot the damned sweatband.

Shawn felt alive, exhilarated. He jogged in place, waiting for a pair of cars to pass.

“Hand over your wallet,” came a low, menacing voice. Something poked him in the left kidney.

Shawn didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t wait for one of the drivers to come to his rescue and he didn’t hand over his wallet. Instead he dove into the nearest bushes, melding himself with the gnarled branches. No way the thief would waste time looking for him. It might draw unwanted attention.

Shawn squinted between thorny branches. He couldn’t see details, but the thief was definitely there, facing Shawn’s direction. The thief bent at the waist and peered into the shrubbery. Two cars stopped for the light.

The thief, apparently feeling the pressure of potential witnesses, stood upright, turned and moved away. Shawn released the breath he’d been holding. He worked himself loose from the prickly branches, and made his way back to the sidewalk.