Kiss Me Gone (7 page)

Whenever I returned home from a fire as big as what I had just faced, I usually rubbed out a quick orgasm if I was alone to ease the tension and celebrate being alive. Seldom was I actually alone. More nights than not, I fucked my partner until she was a wet puddle of nerves.

But it wasn't the fire that had me on edge. It was the driving need to have Eden be the one melting beneath me, aroused, electric. To violate that sweet body until she was creaming and crying my name, promising to stay within the circle of my arms forever.

I rubbed at my eyes, reminded myself a dozen times over who -- what -- I was to her. I was Michael Burke's godson. I was the child of a marriage her mother had ruined. I was the hurt twenty-year old who abandoned her and I was the stranger who had rescued her from death in a hotel she never should have been forced to stay in. I had no right to lust after her as I was doing. If I screwed up so soon after finding her, especially after the night's horrors, I would never get another chance.

Rolling onto my stomach, I buried my head under a pillow and hoped she would be able to find a good night's sleep.

One of us had to.

Eden

Alone in Dare's bedroom, I folded the blanket I had wrapped around my waist then removed my t-shirt, leaving me completely naked. Realizing I should lock the door in case he had forgotten something, I tiptoed across the carpeted floor, quietly slid the lock into place then went into the bathroom and secured that door.

I sat on the toilet and emptied my bladder, looking around the room at the same time. There were shelves opposite the toilet and the lowest one had two small, lidless storage cubes overflowing with cosmetics. Either Dare was a closet drag queen or clothes weren't the only thing his former girlfriends had left behind.

My lips quirked in a knowing smile. He had tried to give me the impression that there was only one ex who had forgotten half her closet, but I wasn't blind and I wasn't so dumb I couldn't accurately interpret what my eyes took in. While the taste in clothing was almost universally bad, there were too many different sizes and most of the colors were uncoordinated, as if each woman had only left behind an item or two.

The contents of the storage cubes confirmed my suspicions. It seemed like forever since I had been able to afford any make-up, but I knew that most women were particular about their brands and the shades they wore -- particularly when it came to foundation. Looking at duplicate brushes, foundations for wildly different skin tones, and various eyeshadow that were super expensive and others that were super cheap, I started to feel a little sick in my stomach.

Dare had turned into a player since I last knew him. Worse than that, he didn't try to hide it from the women he brought home to fuck. The clothes and cosmetics were warning flags to all the hotties who entered his inner sanctum that each was temporary, just one more layer in the collective debris of his sex life.

If he had been serious about a woman, he would have erased the trace of his past lovers before he brought her by his place for even a casual visit. What I saw before me and in the bag of clothes was more than a few months of accumulation.

Or so I very much wanted to believe. Only a pathological sex drive could sample so many women in less than a year.

Shoving the bins onto their shelf, I flushed and stepped into the shower. I turned the water as hot as it would go and started washing the soot from my body and hair. I cleaned myself twice, still feeling dirty but knowing I was spotless -- at least physically.

Out of the shower, I wrapped a thick towel around me. Big as Dare was, he needed oversized towels and the material covered me from my collarbone down to my knees. Letting my hair dry on its own, I returned to the containers that had made me feel sick earlier. In addition to the half-used cosmetics, there were several toothbrushes in unopened packages.

My stomach made another queasy somersault as I wondered if the women had left these behind as well, or if Dare brought women home without notice so often that he kept spare hygiene items. Grimacing, I peeked in the cupboard below the sink to see what other feminine amenities my gracious host might have stocked up on.

To my surprise, the cupboard's items were all unisex, like toilet paper, or solely for a man's body, including two boxes of condoms. My knees turned a little weak and I sat on the floor, the thick towel shielding my bottom from the bare tile. I pulled the boxes out. Both were marked magnum, suggesting Dare was a big man all around. Feeling more than a little perverted, I read the rest of the labeling. Both boxes were variety packs -- some ribbed, some latex, some sheepskin, some with warming gels for lubrication. The second box was only half full, the rest of the interior space holding a separate tube of jelly.

Clearly, he was serious about his pleasure. I'm sure his women were, too.

Resting my forehead against my knees, I wrapped my arms around my legs and took several slow breaths. Dare had a home, a job, put his life on the line for others, but I wasn't sure I could respect the man he had grown into. Not that I wasn't grateful for his bringing me into his home and for saving my life. I was. Yet a part of me mourned for the boy who had kissed me on our last night together, who had shown all the promise of a young man on the verge of becoming a real man, not someone like his father who had betrayed his wife and his dead friend's memory by fucking my mother.

"You don't know who he really is," I whispered before pushing up from the floor. "These are objects, not facts."

I put the condoms away and opened one of the packages containing a toothbrush. A little paste, a little water, and then I was brushing my teeth in the bedroom while I sorted through the clothes on the bed for something to sleep in.

"Beggars can't be choosers," I sighed as I plucked up a light blue t-shirt that had the outline of a woman with long hair and sunglasses and the word BOSS written across the front, the letters made up of circles so that it looked like the lights on a vanity mirror. Suddenly I was badly missing my very plain, very nondescript white tees and faded blue jeans.

"No panties? What the fuck?" Realizing I had just blurted the words, I snapped my mouth shut and sent up a little prayer that Dare hadn't heard me. But, seriously, how could the women have left all those items behind without also leaving a single pair of panties? Did all his "dates" go commando or something?

At least the BOSS lady had been on the tall side or liked long tees, I mused after I pulled the material over my head and saw how the bottom hem fell well below the top bend of my thighs. If for some unfathomable reason I had to run from the room or the house in the middle of the night, I wouldn't be flashing my lady bits at anyone.

Still wired from the night's events and my hair only half dry, I finished brushing my teeth then folded the remaining clothes into a small pile on top of Dare's dresser. I sorted them according to what would more or less fit me, a smaller "maybe" pile as to size and style, and then a large "hell to the no" pile that would have had me walking around with my tits hanging out or questionable text declaring I thought I was
HAWT,
craved mustache rides or worse.

I Shih-Tzu not!

Groaning, I planted my ass on the bed, propped my elbows on my knees and cupped my chin with my hands. Glancing back at the dresser, I rolled my eyes.

Those were the kind of women Dare courted?

I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Three years had passed since I last saw him. I had spent the first half of those years walking on egg shells around my mother and her new husband and the second half fighting to keep some semblance of a roof over my head, the wind and rain off my back and a little food in my belly each day. I had been utterly alone the entire time, an outcast, unwanted by my mother, betrayed more than once by her, put in jail--

I pulled back from that particular memory. It was too dark for me to keep my sanity when thinking about it. Dark as the grave.

Swallowing roughly, I stood up and paced the room. If I hadn't been worried about waking Dare, I would have sung to calm myself, using the lyrics and necessary vocal control to distract my mind from the thoughts that threatened to drown me.

I couldn't live if I thought about the past. And I couldn't be around Dare without thinking of the past. Whatever help he had a mind to give me didn't matter. I needed to leave as soon as I could. I couldn't risk more than a few days and I certainly couldn't risk running into anyone else I had known back when Michael Burke was still my father.

Especially Dare's mom -- Bloody Mary O'Donnell or whatever last name she was going by now if she had divorced Frank.

With the looming judgment of his mom suspended above my head like the blade of a guillotine, I stopped in front of the dresser and picked through the tallest pile of clothes once more. At least half the tops were novelty tees and a disgruntled puff of air left me as I read through them.

Blink if you like me.

Orgasm Donor.

I swallow.

I shook my head, knowing with a painful certainty that Mary O'Donnell would find every one of the women represented by that pile a more suitable companion for her son than she would ever consider me. She had already disliked me when I was a high school student, pulling straight As and still a virgin. Just knowing the part of town Dare had rescued me in would be enough for her to condemn me to hell.

Turning abruptly as tears began to sting my eyes, I bumped into a bookshelf next to the dresser. The collision knocked a large mailing envelope onto the floor. I bent down and read the single word written with a thick, black marker as I scooped up the envelope.

Proofs.

Uncontrollably curious, I flipped it over to see if the back flap was sealed. The thin metal prongs were folded down, but it was otherwise unsecured. I let the contents shift inside, guessing by the way things moved that it was several thick sheets almost as large as the envelope and all of the same size.

I glanced at the bedroom door and confirmed that I had locked it before my shower. My fingers danced around the prongs with indecision.

Bad Eden...worst house guest ever!

My lips peeled back. I had more than enough people ready to list my faults and imagined transgressions. My brain could shut the fuck up on that front. If I was even one percent as horrible as the world seemed to believe, I would already have had the contents of the envelope spread across the bed. Hell, I would have rifled through Dare's dresser and closet before bumping into the bookshelf.

And I was leaving in a few days. Maybe sooner. What was the harm in taking a quick look?

My palms starting to sweat, I sat down, wiped my hands on the bed's thin quilt then carefully straightened the prongs. Pulling back the flap, I tried to slide the contents of the envelope out as quietly as possible, guilt making me imagine Dare standing on the other side of the bedroom door with bionic hearing abilities.

The pieces of thick paper came out back side up. Each of them had been stamped with a photographer's studio copyright and a tidy hand had written a short description that included the date, Dare's full name, the location and the purpose of the shoot.

Annual For the Fallen Charity Calendar.

I took a deep breath in, slowly released it, and repeated the process a few more times as a grin slowly spread across my face. Already familiar with the charity that helped fund the education of children who had lost a parent through serving the community as a cop or firefighter, I was absolutely certain that I would find some beefcake photos of Dare when I flipped the sheets over.

Hands shaking, I turned the first photo -- and stopped breathing for a few minutes.

"Beefcake" didn't begin to describe the picture. I ran my finger along the glossy print, tracing the length of the fire hose that curled up Dare's calf and then his muscular thigh, the bronze nozzle and his big hands making sure that his cock remained hidden. Other than the hose, the only thing covering him was the helmet atop his head. He was as naked as the day Mary O'Donnell pushed him out of her womb.

I flipped the next picture and released a dreamy sigh. This time, he only had an axe shielding him. I traced the honed edge of metal, my tongue mimicking my finger's path as I licked at my lips. Tanned all over, his muscles pumped up, he directed his dark blue eyes straight into the heart of the camera's lens as his mouth pulled into something that was half smirk and all challenge.

My body growing uncomfortably hot, I turned the last photo face up.

A sticky note was placed near the center, obscuring what would certainly contain the best part of the picture. I read the message before peeling it away.

:) Looking good - L.Q.

Looking great, I thought, a groan escaping me. The first two photos had been of Dare's front with strategically placed props. This was a shot of his backside. No axe, no hose -- just the most perfect ass I could ever imagine bunched tight and holding my attention for several long seconds before I let my gaze caress the muscled legs, straight torso and thick arms.

With my pussy starting to twitch, I realized my arousal was just one more pulse away from leaking onto the quilt. My nipples ached and my breathing had become erratic. Quickly, I covered his butt with the sticky note, shoved the photos into the envelope and closed the prongs before slapping the envelope onto the middle shelf of the bookcase. I wasn't sure that was the right spot, but the photos were dated from September. Hopefully they'd been in his room almost that long and Dare had lost track of their exact location and orientation. I would die a thousand times over from guilt and embarrassment if he figured out that I had looked at them.

My body still tingling with want, I flicked the light switch off, quickly unlocked the door and crawled beneath the bed and top sheet knowing dawn would come before I managed even a wink of sleep.

Eden

I woke to the faint sounds of exercise equipment, a fuzzy memory surfacing of Dare saying he had converted the other bedroom into a home gym. Fueled by the contents of the envelope I had drooled over last night, a picture of him working out naked rose up in my mind slow and delicious.

Dare O'Donnell -- a man who had walked through fire for me and he fucking looked like that on top of it all? My hand was buried between my legs before I could reprimand myself over the dangers of masturbating in Dare's bed with a very accurate mental picture of him. Such an activity was a short distance away from inviting him into the bed. I wasn't staying in Hagersburg and I sure as hell didn't want to be another notch on his axe handle.

The sensible note of caution trilling through my head didn't make me any less wet or horny. I stroked at my clit and tried not to think of Dare as Dare -- just some anonymously hot male who looked like him, walked like him, had the same rough, sexy voice but would happily bury his stubbled cheeks between my thighs and suck me until I came.

Yeah, Dare-Not-Dare licking me, fucking me, his hands and mouth on my breasts. Dare-Not-Dare flipping me on my stomach, fucking me hard from behind, one hand under my belly, teasing my clit, the other teasing my ass.

I jerked in climax, softly murmuring his name.

Rolling onto my side, I hugged the pillow. He may have changed the sheets and pillow cases, but I could smell traces of his scent on the quilt. I pulled it up to my chin and breathed in deeply. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that he'd just left the room, that he'd just done all the things I imagined him doing and that he was directly responsible for the low throb running through my pussy.

The only thing I couldn't imagine was the act meaning anything to him. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to leave anything behind that was distinctly me when he grew tired of my presence. The shirt I had slept in, whatever items I selected from the piles on the dresser, all of it belonged to other women.

I had nothing -- because I was nothing.

Trying to avoid the impending pity party, I rolled out of bed and onto my feet. Naked, I brushed my teeth and washed my face, my attention split between the mirror and the sound of the equipment in the next room as he continued to exercise. Finished, I picked through the piles of clothes.

I had already discovered the lack of panties and established that all of the bras were two or more cup sizes too big for my not-quite-a-B-cup chest. I finally came across a silky red top that didn't have a neckline that would dip down to my belly button and a wrap skirt I could cinch around my waist. Hoping that one of Dare's absent-minded lovers had also left behind a pair of shoes, I started my hunt in his closet then moved on to looking beneath his bed. After crawling half way under the frame, I was rewarded with cheap plastic sandals that sort of matched the blouse.

I slipped the shoes on then looked in the dresser mirror. Thin polyester blouse with three-quarter sleeves, brushed linen wrap skirt and sandals -- in the middle of winter!

Laughing at my predicament so I wouldn't dissolve into a pool of tears, I ventured into the hall in search of Dare. I found him sitting in the exercise room, the door open a few inches. He wore shorts and a body hugging t-shirt. Finished with his routine, he was drying the sweat from his face with a hand towel.

He had kept his coal black hair long, the sexy length just barely within the fire department's regulations. It fell forward to cover his eyes. Muscles and veins bulged on his arms and legs, the skin as well tanned as it had been in the September photo shoot. Another big bulge between his parted thighs caught and held my attention for a few seconds before I forced myself to look up.

He hadn't realized yet that I was there, watching him from the doorway. When he finally lifted his head and smiled good morning, my heart dropped to my stomach. Was there ever a more beautiful smile? It reached all the way up to his blue eyes and their sparkling invitation.

My pussy twitching in response, I knew the no panties thing was going to be a problem. The skirt wouldn't remain dry if he turned that smile on me again.

"You ready for some breakfast and the mall?"

I nodded, my tongue too thick from staring at him to form so much as a "yes."

"Good, let me grab a shower and then I'll cook--"

"I learned how to cook from the best," I reminded him. Helen was a menace in the kitchen, but Michael had been everyone's favorite firehouse chef and he had taught me well. "You shower and I'll get breakfast ready."

Dare grinned. "I remember Mike's meals. I can't wait to taste..."

He faltered, his cheeks reddening, but only for a second.

"To taste what you cook up."

With a quick nod, I left and hurried to the kitchen before I before I started fantasizing about what had tripped up Dare's tongue. He couldn't have possibly been thinking that he wanted to taste me.

Possible or not, the thought chased after me, leaving me wet and choking for air by the time Dare joined me in the kitchen.