Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2) (13 page)

Donovan

T
he nights away from Journey are the
worst. I sit in my cruiser, watching for speeders and waiting for dispatch
calls. Boredom feeds on the loneliness.

My grandfather made his feelings about
Journey known in the only way he’s comfortable. Arnold would never make a big
speech about her failings or take me aside for a private lecture. Instead, he
schedules me for every night and weekend shift possible to ensure I have no
time to see Journey.

And I let him do it.

I should quit the force and find a job
suited for a man in love. With a good chunk of cash saved up, I can afford to
work a minimum wage job if need be. Every night, I could go to sleep next to
Journey. Every morning, she’d still be there. My woman in my bed feels right.

The car is in drive before I realize
where I’m going. Tumbling Rock is fifteen minutes away on the highway, but I
make it in ten by taking the back roads. The Earlham place looks wide awake
when I arrive. The porch lamp is on along with what looks like every light
inside. While I’m relieved to know I won’t wake anyone up, I’m wary of having
an audience to my clandestine visit.

“What do you want?” Poppy asks, opening
the door. “Should I release the hound?”

“I need to talk to your sister.”

“She’s putting Otto to bed. Come back
in an hour.”

Frowning, I ring the doorbell before
Poppy can shut the door.

“What do you want?” she asks again as
if we hadn’t just spoken.

“Is your sister home?”

Poppy rolls her eyes, steps back, and
allows me to enter the house.

“Who is it?” Christine asks from a
chair.

Hal lifts his head from her lap and
growls at me. When Christine notices me enter, she shushes the dog.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, giving
me the once over.

Having forgotten I was decked out in my
uniform, I shrug. “I’m on a break.”

Christine and Poppy share a look that I
can’t even begin to decipher. Before things get more awkward, Journey appears
in a long sleeveless flannel shirt.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding like
her mother.

“I wanted to see you. I’m on break.
Everything is fine.”

Smiling now, Journey follows me onto
the porch and shuts the door.

“What’s up really?”

I can’t explain why tonight I needed to
see her. Unable to find the words, I cover her lips with mine and hope she
understands. Journey’s hands immediately grip my shirt, tugging me tighter.
Only when our heated embrace lifts up her shirt, does she pull away.

“I’m not wearing pants,” she says,
glancing around at the night.

“Want to sit in the cruiser?”

“No,” she says, frowning at my car. “I
can’t bring you inside either. My sister will never leave us alone, and I just
put Otto to bed.” Glancing around, she suddenly smiles up at me. “We could go
to my gym.”

After walking onto the dew covered
grass, I turn around and lift Journey over my shoulder. She gives a startled
grunt but doesn’t fight when I carry her to the gym.

“So much for not showing off my
panties,” she says, hanging from me with her butt in the air.

“Sorry, but you shouldn’t walk on the
wet grass in bare feet.”

“This is much better,” she says,
sounding ready to laugh.

Once in the workout area part of the
garage, I rest her back on her feet. Before she can speak, I cup her face and
plant a hard kiss on her startled lips.

I unbuckle my supply belt and toss it
on the nearby bench. The banging noise startles Journey, who pulls away. With
her lips not at the ready, I lean down and suck at her throat.

“Donovan,” she murmurs. “The door has a
lock.”

Prying my hungry lips from her flesh, I
hurry to the door to snap the bolt into the place. I’m unbuttoning my uniform
shirt when I return to find Journey wiggling out of her panties. After stepping
out of them, she lifts herself up onto a table.

My hands grip her soft hair and tilt
her head back so I can suck at her throat again. Journey’s legs instinctively
open to allow me closer. When she scoots forward on the table, I imagine her
bare pussy waiting for me.

I slip my fingers under her long shirt
until they reach the hot flesh between her legs. Journey bucks the moment my
knuckle gazes her clit. I dip two fingers inside her slit to find her already
dripping wet.

Pressing Journey back on the little
table, I yank open her shirt and expose her right tit. The dark red nipple
pokes angrily at me. I nip at it while fingering a moaning Journey. With her
left leg now propped on the table, her pussy is at the mercy of my thrusting
fingers.

I consume her nipple, sucking greedily
at the tender flesh. Journey doesn’t know what to do with her hands. She tries
to hold onto me, but I’m fingering her so hard that her body jerks wildly.
Finally, she grabs onto the table’s edge just in time for her orgasm to drench
my hands in sweet juices.

Still devouring her nipple, I watch
Journey’s expression as the pleasure overwhelms her. By the time I lift my
fingers to her lips, she looks intoxicated by the orgasm.

“You taste so sweet,” I tell her,
sliding the fingers inside her mouth.

Journey sucks instinctively, but her
expression remains almost stoned. She wasn’t prepared to come so hard and fast.
I hold her stunned gaze while freeing my throbbing cock from the confines of my
work slacks. Shoving the pants down, I tap the head of my cock against the hood
of her clit.

“Donovan,” she nearly begs.

I don’t know if she wants more or needs
a break, but I can’t wait any longer. My cock has been in a state of erection
since I last fucked her. Now I need to feel her soft folds tighten around my
dick the way they did for my fingers.

Shoving inside her, I watch her
expression the entire time. The way her eyes widen in surprise. The way her
sucking lips part, allowing my fingers to slip free. The way she stares at me
with amazement and more than a little fear.

My hands grip her ass, maneuvering her
to the very edge of the table until her pussy drenches my balls.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, attempting to
be soft when all I want is to fuck her raw. “You’re all I think about.”

My words reassure Journey. She digs her
fingers into my collared shirt and holds on while I pound mercilessly into her.
I’m painfully hard, and one orgasm won’t satisfy me after I’ve ached for this
relief for so long. I fill her once and then twice and only take my time on our
third round.

Journey’s gaze is stuck on where our
bodies come together. How my thick cock disappears into her waiting and wanting
pussy. She can’t look away until I shove her shirt down her shoulders to free
her tits. Journey looks at me just as I take her nipples between my index and
middle fingers. I hold the hard flesh for my flicking thumbs.

Bucking wildly against my cock, Journey
calls my name. She’s lost her fascination with our bodies joining and now only
wants to be fucked. I give her everything I have those last few minutes. Her
body jerks wildly from my thrusts, but her pussy is taut, slurping up every
drop.

Though sex is a temporary remedy for a
deeper problem, we’re both smiling when I tell her good night and return to
work. One day soon, we’ll need a long term solution. For now, we’ll enjoy what
little time we can steal to be together.

Journey

U
sing my woman playbook, I convince
myself Donovan and I will gel once we cross the line from dating to lovers. All
of the awkward stop and go, hard edges, and relationship drama will disappear
once the orgasmic magic kicks in. Of course, that doesn’t happen.

One night, Donovan calls me to bail on
dinner because he has to pick up a shift. The next night, he calls expecting me
to drop everything and hook up with him somewhere. When I can’t do that,
Donovan acts as if I’m the problem.

Then again, maybe I am the problem. I
can’t really tell since I always take my side. I never care enough to see
anyone else’s point of view. I’m not the type of person to walk into a
situation and understand the conflict. I take a side based on my gut, never my
head.

When our schedules finally link up, we
end up at his place. Rather than make out or even talk, Donovan sulks next to
me. He knows I’m grumpy. I know he’s upset I’m grumpy. We should shake off our
bad moods and enjoy our evening together. That’s what Justice and Court would
do. They’d probably be humping in a corner while the kids watched TV. My
sister’s relationship seems so fricking effortless while mine is like jamming
the wrong puzzle pieces together.

I glance over at Donovan sitting a foot
from me on the couch. He’s frowning at the TV, and I wish his pissed expression
weren't so sexy. Or I wish I didn’t care how sexy it was because then I
wouldn’t care why he was pissed. I’m the why, and I don’t want to fix me.

“Do you like dating?” I ask, giving him
a side glare. “Are we just doing the dating part, so we can get the sex part?”

“What do you mean by ‘we’ because I
think you mean me?”

“I’m the dating virgin, so I can’t
compare.”

“And I can? All I know is hooking up,
and the women I called were usually willing for me to drop by randomly. Dating
isn’t like that, is it?” he mutters, crossing his arms tightly.

“So you want me to be like your hooch
women?”

“What I want is to spend time with you,”
he says, glaring at me from the corner of his eye, “but I have to work all the
fucking time. When I do get free time, you’re at work or home with your family.
I can’t drop by and see you. It’s like pulling fucking teeth to get you alone.
Then we’re so fucking tense about how fucking hard it was to get time alone
that we’re fucking miserable together.”

“Stop saying fucking so much.”

“I’m not saying ‘fricking’ no matter
how much you want me to. Otto has heard worse, and he isn’t even here.”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“What exactly was the subject?”

Even terrified of his answer, I ask,
“Do you want to break up?”

“What I want is to see you every minute
of the day. I want to hear your voice. I want to kiss you and touch you and
taste you and enjoy every inch of your body. I want to know you want me too.
Instead, I barely see you. Weeks pass, and I wonder how long you’ll hang around
before dumping me.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“No,” he says loud and clear.

“So what do we do to fix this bad mood
we’re having?”

“What makes you think there is a fix?”

“Do you want to fix it?”

“Do I want to spend our time together
in a bad mood? No, Journey, I don’t, but you’re in a bad mood too. I feel like
you’re in a bad mood every moment we’re not kissing or fucking. Kinda makes me
wonder what you want out of dating.”

“Are you accusing me of only dating you
for the sex? Is that seriously something you’re claiming because if so you’re a
fricking idiot?”

“We both know you want a kid so…” he
says with a pissy snarl.

“Screw you, frickwit.”

“Really? You’re saying frickwit? Otto’s
not even here. Why can’t you talk normal?”

“Because I can’t be fake like you are.
I can’t turn on and off my personality like you do with people. If I walk
around cussing sometimes, then I walk around cussing all the time.”

“And you think him saying fricking is
better than him saying fucking?”

“Yes, frickwad, and don’t change the
subject from you being a fake fricker.”

“I can’t talk to you when you do your
gibberish insults.”

“Then I’ll do you a favor and leave so
you won’t have to endure me any longer.”

Grabbing my jacket, I head to the door
before realizing I’m not wearing shoes. I stomp back, shove my feet into the
still tied boots, and return to the door. Donovan watches me, saying nothing,
doing nothing, stunned in place. Does he want me to leave and not come back?

Whatever Donovan’s thinking, he doesn’t
stop me from walking out the door. I don’t run to my SUV, instead taking my
time to reach the vehicle and unlock the door. I’m waiting for Donovan to show
he’s hooked on me even half as much as I am on him.

Standing with my door open and the rain
beginning to pour, I wonder how long I’m willing to wait for his answer.

Donovan

W
atching Journey storm out, I consider
letting her go. She has every right to be pissed, and I know I can’t give her
what she craves. I should end things, but I refuse to let her leave me.

Hurrying into the autumn downpour, I
stop Journey before she gets into the driver’s seat. The rain crashing down
around us can’t disguise the tears on her cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” I say, closing her door
while caressing her cheek.

“I’m not crying. It’s the rain, feces
face.”

“I know it is.”

“What do you want?”

Adjusting so my hip keeps her from
opening the car door, I cup her face with both of my hands. Journey doesn’t
pull away. She waits for me to say or do something that’ll make us stick. I’m
waiting too for that magical fix.

I’m a grown man. Why can’t I find the
words to erase the pained expression on her gorgeous face? I don’t know what to
say. I can’t let her leave, though. I feel in my gut if she goes now that I’ll
lose her forever.

“You’re wet,” is all I manage.

“No, I’m not.”

Smiling at her stubborn response, I
wrap her in my arms and guide her back to the house.

“I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer.”

“I don’t care.”

Journey doesn’t know what to say at my
lack of reassuring words. She needs me to be someone I’m not. Her life has no
room for dysfunction. If a problem arises, she fixes it. Now Journey wants to
repair me. I get where she’s coming from, and I’d love for her to fix what I
can’t. Except we both know we’re fooling ourselves.

Inside the house, I walk Journey to the
main bathroom and turn on the hot water.

“Strip down and get into the shower.
I’ll find you clothes to wear until yours are dry.

Even soaking wet, Journey only waits
for me to say the magical words to fix the pain she feels. Unable to find them,
I walk from the room to search for clothes.

Kitty follows me around, staring with
his big sad eyes. I feel judged, though he likely is only wondering why I’m
wet.

I grab the smallest clothes I can find
and then return to the bathroom. With Journey in the shower, I take her wet
stuff and leave the dry clothes. Her silhouette through the shower door stirs
my cock, but I’m in no mood to fuck. Not when I look into her eyes and know
she’s still waiting for me to be the man she thinks I can be.

In the laundry room, I toss my wet
stuff into the dryer with hers. Listening to the clothes slap around in the
machine, I wish I knew what another man would do in this situation.

I’m standing in the kitchen wearing
boxers and a white T-shirt when the shower shuts off. Reaching for the remote,
I turn on a country music station. The melancholy of a Willie Nelson tune fits
my mood. Journey’s blue eyes cried in the rain too. I wonder when was the last
time she cried before I spewed my dysfunction all over her life.

Journey appears from the bathroom
wearing oversized sweats, looking even more fragile than when she was soaking
wet.

Her gaze moves from me to the TV. “I
don’t like country music.”

“No one does. We listen to it to piss
off other people.”

Journey considers smiling. I see
amusement lingering around the edges of her gaze, but she never gives into the
urge.

“What’s the point?” she asks, and I
know she isn’t talking about the music.

“Why does there need to be a point? Why
can’t things exist because we want them to?”

Journey glances around my house. She
looks tired, and I suspect she’ll bolt soon. Her heart demands she stay, but
Journey isn’t a slave to her emotions. She won’t chase a bad man or swoon over
a weak one. Right now, she’s uncertain which one I am.

“I’ll drop off your clothes tomorrow,”
she says.

Despite her threat to leave, Journey's
feet remain planted on the ground. She stares at me and considers her options.

“I want you,” I finally say. “If that’s
what you’re wondering.”

“For how long? Is this a glitch in your
normal way of thinking? Am I something you’ll wake up and stop wanting?”

“You want guarantees. I don’t blame
you, but I don’t know what I’m capable of. You’ve already pushed me farther
than I’ve gone with anyone else.”

“So this is the best you can do?” she
asks, shuffling closer.

“What if it is?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m learning,” I say, grasping for
words to explain what I don’t understand myself. “If I push you too hard, I
come off as an asshole wanting you to drop everything for me. If I don’t push
you hard enough, you think I don’t care. I’ve got no experience with a woman I
want to keep. I know you want things to make sense this very moment, but I need
time to figure out how to finesse my behavior with you.”

Journey crosses her arms and frowns at
the TV. “I don’t want to listen to this music.”

“Feel free to change it.”

Journey walks to the remote and flips
through channels. If she finds something she likes, I guess that means I get
another chance, and she’ll stay. If nothing good is on, I’m screwed.

Finding an episode of
South Park
,
Journey pauses and considers her options. I feel her dissecting me even though
her gaze never flashes my direction. She rests the remote on the coffee table
and sits on the couch.

I have my answer.

“Do you want something to drink?” I
ask.

“If you mean booze, no.”

“How about a soda or coffee?”

Journey finally looks at me. A moment
passes where we both wish we were different people. I want to be a fearless
caveman demanding what I desire. She wants to be a clueless damsel willing to
take whatever crumbs I offer.

“Coffee would be nice.”

While I make a pot, Journey digs her
phone out of her wet purse. I see her texting and wonder if she’s calling in
reinforcements. Likely, she’s just telling her family what happened. Her body
language makes me think they’re pleading with her to make a run for safety.
Whatever they end up saying, she sets the phone on the table next to her and
curls up on the couch.

Kitty watches me watch Journey. Like my
woman, the dog needs more than I can offer. He walks away and joins Journey on
the couch. She pets him and whispers sweet nothings. I smile at the sight of
them together.

My mind imagines a world where I come
home every night to this beautiful woman and my sad-eyed dog. They’d welcome me
because they’d know I’m worth something even if that something isn’t so obvious
to anyone else. I’d have a place to call home rather than simply a roof over my
head.

I bring Journey her coffee and sit on
the other end of the couch. An outsider in my home, I feel foolish. More than
that, I’m lonely. Journey is feet away, yet I’m too weak to go to her.

I fear her rejection. Not just tonight,
but every night. I’m a grown man, but the little boy I once was warns me that
trusting her is a mistake. Life is safer alone. There’s no truer fact. Except,
fuck, if I’m not lonely, and Journey offers everything I crave.

“I’m in love with you,” I say, staring
at the TV. “I don’t think that’s enough to make things right, but I figured I
ought to say the words so you know I think them.”

Journey doesn’t respond, and her gaze
remains focused on the episode of
South Park
. I glance in her direction,
and she glances in mine.

“Not everything needs to make sense,
but it needs to mean something,” she says in a low, raspy voice. “I love you
too.”

“Well, there’s that.”

Journey exhales softly and returns to
watching the show. After a few more sips of coffee, she sets the cup on the
table. By the next commercial, she’s scooted a bit closer until Kitty has to
change positions so he can still rest his head on her lap. I say nothing while
she slowly makes her way to me on the couch.

Once her body presses against mine, I
wrap an arm around her shoulders. Her head leans on my chest, and we silently
watch TV for an hour.

Words aren’t our friends. Lies make
things easier. For now, we want each other, and we have each other.

For tonight, that’s enough. Eventually,
though, the sun will rise, my issues will creep back into play, and Journey
will desire more from me.

We’ll be back in the same place as we
were when she stood in the rain waiting for me to say the right words.

Until then, silence offers us the
freedom to pretend nothing matters beyond love.