Pistol Read online

  “Count yer lucky stars that ya have one who cares enough to be.”

  Steph looked across to Pete as he walked beside her. He hunched his shoulders to hide his face. “I hit a nerve, huh?”

  “Aye. Just a wee one.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  They carried on in silence for a block before she asked the obvious. “Why did you wait outside their house? I didn’t see you at the party.”

  He smirked, and glanced her way from the corner of his eye. “Wasn’t invited. Plus, I couldn’t chance meetin’ ya again, and not stickin’ around to find out where ya lived.”

  “So you openly stalk me,” she teased.

  “If puttin’ it like that gets ya off, sure.”

  She smiled at his toying of her. “Wouldn’t you love to know that.”

  A hand withdrew from his pocket, and he reached over to knit his fingers through hers. Steph prickled with awareness at the contact, certain he could feel her palm burn in his grasp. “What excites ya is one of the things I want to learn about ya, sure,” he said.

  She struggled with the cramp in her lungs as a weight settled on her chest. They still walked hand-in-hand. His intentions were so blatant, and it should scare her at least a little. But it didn’t.

  It turned her on.

  She swallowed away the lump in her throat. “What else do you want to know?”

  He growled, low and husky in the back of his throat. “Lots.”

  “That’s hardly an answer.”

  “Let me in for coffee when we reach yer place, and I’ll answer yer question.”

  Blackmail, and yet the junction in her thighs grew warmer. “Deal.”

  Single-handed, he took a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, and held the box up. “Ya want one?”

  “I don’t smoke.” She shook her head.

  He tipped his chin, and shook out a stick, which he then took between his lips as he re-pocketed the pack. “I shouldn’t either.”

  Steph watched the slim cigarette bob up and down as he spoke. She traced the lines of his lips, sighing inside at the luscious fullness of the bottom one, and the way it gave him a permanent pout. Kissable. He tried to light the smoke, yet the flame flickered with the breeze created by their movement. She relaxed her grip so he could shield with his other hand, but he tightened his, and ducked his head to his chest. The end flared, and he drew a long pull as he pocketed the lighter. Smoke tendrils flowed from his nostrils and wisped past his eyes, and over his ears.

  Smoking in itself was never a quality she had ever thought of as attractive. Steph had done it, quit, and knew what an addiction it could be. Yet when Pete drew the orange ember down the stick, then lazily let the grey plumes flow from his nose and mouth, something about it made his renegade appeal double.

  “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” she asked, in hopes she could divert her mind from the sexual tension.

  “Askin’ me on a date, Cutie?”

  Her thoughts plunged into the bed sheets. “Uh, no. Simply making conversation.”

  “I’m crushed,” he mocked, free hand to his heart. The orange tip of his smoke drew lines through the darkness.

  “No mocking, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Well?” He wasn’t about to avoid this one as easily as his name. His name, yeah. “Any plans, Pete?”

  His head snapped about, and he stared at her as they walked.

  She tapped the side of her nose. “Connections.”

  He shook his head slowly, lips set in a line. “I better give these connections a speakin’ to.”

  She raised a brow to remind him he still hadn’t answered.

  “All right, Jesus.” He sucked another draw of the stick, and let the smoke furl about his face as he walked. “At this stage I’ll be knockin’ off me shift at eleven-thirty. Hardly any time to make it to any celebrations.”

  “That sucks. How did you draw the short straw?”

  He sneered briefly. “There weren’t any straws to draw. The only other person workin’ the bar couldn’t be trusted to do it on her own.”

  “That girl you were having a go at last night?”

  He glanced down at her, and for a moment he seemed amused that she admitted she had watched him. “I wasn’t ‘having a go’—simply remindin’ her why she needs to keep her shit in line.”

  “Are you the Manager?”

  He laughed, then drew a final drag before he flicked the stub into the road. “I should be, but no.”

  Steph cringed at the familiar fence-line of her neighbours. Conversation had flowed easily, and she had enjoyed it immensely. She wasn’t ready to stop yet, so thank God she’d agreed to coffee. “This is me,” she said as they approached the neatly rowed letterboxes for the units.

  “Do I get a brew, then?”

  She dropped her head to the side, and smiled. “Of course.”

  He let go to rub his hands, and gestured with his chin. “Come on then. Show me the way.”

  His boots echoed her heels in perfect unison as they ascended the narrow staircase to the second floor units. God, I hope he doesn’t stare at my ass. She pulled her keys from her bag, and got the right one ready in her grasp. Why the hurry? Are you that desperate? Not desperate, eager. Eager sounded better.

  “How long ya been here?” he asked over her shoulder. His breath tickled the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  “A couple of years.”

  He hummed as she turned the lock, and pushed the door open. Pete strode past her, not waiting for Steph to free the key, and made himself at home in her small residence. She shut the front door, and tossed her bag on the kitchen counter.

  “Where’s the bedroom?” he asked as he nosed in each door.

  Steph didn’t have to answer. He figured it out himself, and disappeared into her room. “What are you up to?” she asked.

  “Plannin’.”

  “Planning what?” Could she honestly say she didn’t know? The warmth which spread through her privates said she did. She followed him into her room.

  “Where I’ll have ya first.” He spun on his heel and faced her, his chin dipped, and a wicked gleam to his eye.

  Steph took a step backward, sure she should run from this potential rapist, but found she shut the bedroom door instead.

  “Expectin’ company?” He smirked and gestured to the closed exit.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t want you to disappear.”

  He laughed. “Why would I?”

  “Because a guy like you can’t be much more than a figment of my imagination.”

  “A guy like me?”

  Steph drew her lip between her teeth, and dropped her head. “Someone like me.”

  “Oh, Love.” He chuckled. “I’m nothin’ like ya.” His hands bunched in his shirt, and tugged it off over his head to leave her open-mouthed.

  “Ya keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’ll have nothin’ to look forward to when I bury me head between those fuckin’ long legs of yours.”

  Steph snapped her jaw shut, but kept her gaze pinned on the incredible artwork that covered his torso. Pop art, text, and abstract images filled every inch of skin. And he wore it so well. The pictures twisted and morphed as he stepped toward her. She sighed at the weight of his hands on her hips, and settled her head against his chest. His heart thundered a tempo in her ear that matched her own. The boy was as aroused as she was. Had to be anyway, because he sure as shit didn’t come off as the type to be scared.

  His hands slipped about the circumference of her waist, until his fingers connected with her zipper. He eased it down and pushed the fabric of her skirt over her hips. Pete shuddered a sigh as his eyes ran the length of her; he even stepped back for a better vantage. Blood pounded in her ears, her nerves haywire at the thought he would soon strip her bare. He licked his bottom lip, and made the ring flick from side-to-side, as he encircled her in his arms once more.

  “Undo the buttons,”
he ordered, husky, and low.

  Steph drew her hands between them both; her nipples peaked at the feel of her palms brushing against his torso. Her shaky fingers made clumsy work of the buttons, but she managed—even under the intense scrutiny of his hooded gaze. His breaths were heavy, and controlled as she let the two sides of the blouse fall apart to reveal her lace-encased breasts. He bit the lip piercing into his mouth, and traced a lazy line along one cup with his finger, then the other.

  Steph moved her hands to his chest, and placed a palm over each pec. She then drew a long, level breath. Her heart raced the million dollar minute at the feel of him beneath her hands; a moment which had been a mere fantasy since she first laid eyes on his him last night. Yeah, last night. Have you lost the plot? She should push him away, demand he leave, but the child inside of her slammed its foot down in a tantrum. No, she wouldn’t give up her toy yet.

  He drew both hands up the column of her neck, and stopped to cup her face in his firm grasp. Without warning, he stuck both thumbs into the corners of her mouth, and tightened his grip on her jaw. Steph moaned at the strange combination of pain, and ownership he displayed. Her tongue darted between his thumbs to feel the grasp he had inside her mouth.

  “You—” he ground out through strained tones, “—make me do stupid things.”

  Did he tell her off? Or warn her? She dropped her gaze to his mouth, and he groaned deep in the back of his throat. His thumbs slipped free of her mouth, as he simultaneously pulled her head up so that she stood on tip-toe to meet his assault. Their lips clashed, his tongue pushed past the seam of her mouth to explore the areas his thumbs had pressed into seconds before.

  All the wine she had consumed over the course of the evening came back to bite her in the ass as her head swum. Steph clung onto his shoulders for balance, and he snaked an arm around her lower back to pull her closer. “You okay, Love?”

  She steadied her breaths enough to form a singular word. “Dizzy.”

  Pete stepped back from her, and pointed to the bed—his hand still cupped her elbow for balance. “Lie down and take yer knickers off, woman.”

  She didn’t question him. She did as she was told.

  Steph lay bare from the waist down; her blouse and bra barely covered her upper half. He stood at the foot of the bed, hungry as a wolf by the way he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned. If it weren’t for the fact he had her half-naked, and in the bedroom, she could have sworn he thought of a way to kill her. It was that kind of look.

  “Jesus, you’re goin’ to taste good.”

  Her breath made a hiss as she drew it in sharply, and fisted her hands in the bedcovers to repress the urge to roll over, to hide, and to run.

  He fell to his knees, and raised a hand slowly to the tender flesh at the apex of her thighs. The pad of his forefinger traced lazy lines around the edges of her opening; the look on his face one of worship. “So beautiful,” he muttered, as he gently plied her lower lips apart. He ran his finger the length of her moist flesh, then brought it to his mouth and savoured the taste. The appreciative moans he let out sent her wild, and made her squirm for more.

  His lips quirked into a lop-sided grin, and he tut-ed. “So impatient, me Love.”

  “I swear if you take too long I’ll finish it myself,” she joked.

  He sat back on his heels, and appeared to think it over. “That could be a good idea, ya know.”

  Steph raised her head, and stared wide-eyed at him. “What?”

  “Ya want me that bad; ya won’t mind givin’ me a show.”

  More blackmail, and she damn near dripped at the thought.

  He settled on his haunches, and laughed as she scrambled from her bed. Steph lunged at the bottom drawer of her nightstand, and withdrew the purple wand that had kept her company many a night when Dave was AWOL.

  “Don’t spare me the details, Cutie. Pretend it’s you and yer wee friend. I’m not here.” Pete lifted his hands as he rose to his knees, and shuffled backward.

  Steph stared at him where he sat in the corner of her room, next to the laundry hamper. Have you finally lost it? You’re going to masturbate in front of a guy you’ve known a day. Maybe she had lost it, but he was one delicacy she didn’t want to go through life wondering ‘what if’ over. If he left, so be it. But the possibility he may finish the night by fucking her senseless if she went through with it was too much of a risk to leave to chance.

  “You comfortable?” she asked, and surprised herself at how sultry her question sounded.

  “Like I’m watchin’ me favourite show,” he purred.

  Steph crawled back on the bed, and made her way up the mattress until she sat propped against the head board. With her legs spread apart, she rubbed the wand up and down her still sensitive flesh. His heavy breaths were audible over the sound of her panting. The mere thought of her public pleasure had her core drip for stimulation. Who are you? Slowly, she inched the wand into her swollen folds, and breached herself with a whimper.

  “Love, that looks so fuckin’ good.”

  Steph closed her eyes, and replayed his rolling accent over and over in her mind. She let the sexy tones of his voice tickle her shameless joy at finally filling her need with something rigid—even if it wasn’t his. She kneaded her breast as the wand plunged in deeper with every stroke. The electricity built in her centre, and she licked her fingertips to massage her clit and quicken the climax.

  She drew her eyes open, hooded with ecstasy. Pete now knelt at the foot of the bed. “What are you doing?” she breathed.

  “Waiting,” he whispered.

  Her hand kept the frantic tempo with the wand as the other ran quickened circles over her flesh. In no time she felt the contractions start, and closed her eyes to ride the wave as her mouth dropped to an ‘O’. Hands grabbed her behind the knees, and pulled her to the foot of the bed. She squealed. Steph watched in awe as Pete ripped the wand from her grasp, and plunged his tongue into her swollen flesh. He lapped, and prodded eagerly until she couldn’t hold back a second longer.

  She cried out, and never gave a second thought to if any of the neighbours would hear her. Steph pushed against his face as he continued to ply her orgasm free. With perfect timing, he pulled back on the last seconds of her release, and plunged his finger inside to tickle her G-spot. His finger repeatedly flicked free and tweaked her clit with every stroke, until the waning orgasm built for more.

  Steph threw her head back, and moaned as her entire centre exploded into fireworks. She’d never experienced such a toe-curling climax in her life. She wanted to ride the crest for a whole day, until her body was sapped of any and all traces of energy.

  Pete rocked back on his heels once more as she panted for breath. “Good?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

  “Fan-fucking-tastic,” she breathed.

  “That’s what I want to hear.” He stood and retrieved his t-shirt. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, then.”

  Her mouth worked to form words, but a pathetic squeak was the only sound she managed as he walked out of her bedroom. The front door clicked behind him, and she flopped back onto the sheets to laugh hysterically.

  Like hell she was about to run after him and flag him down, half naked, and a wet mess to boot.

  He bloody well knew it too.

  Pete had fucked her good and proper. Just not the way she’d first intended.

  Cass snapped her fingers in front of Steph’s face. “Earth to Steph. Anyone home?”

  She looked back to her friend, unaware until then that she’d lost herself to another daydream. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Did you hear any of what I said?”

  She gave Cass a sheepish grin.

  “Didn’t think so. I asked where you wanted to go tonight?”

  No hesitation. “I thought we could go to the same place as we did Friday.”

  “You want to see that Irish hottie again, don’t you.” Cass slapped both hands on the café table, and leant into the conversation
.

  Steph hadn’t mentioned a single detail about the fact she’d already seen him since their last night out. Maybe her silence on the matter was due to the shame at what he coaxed her into doing? Maybe it was that she wanted to keep him her secret? “So what if I do?”

  “You hussy.”

  Steph poked her tongue out at Cass, and earnt a giggle in response.

  “What if we see those jerks again though?” Cass’s face fell.

  “I get the impression we won’t.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Instinct?” Truthfully, she had seen the look on Pete’s face as he stood at the foot of her bed, and in all honesty it had scared her a little. Because in that ruthless expression, was a hint of a man who would do whatever he wanted, to whomever he wanted.

  “I guess. Even if we do—” Cass flicked her straw. “—I reckon they’d be more put out than us.”

  “True that.” She laughed. “So when do you want to meet up? And your place or mine?”

  Cass pulled her phone from where her bag sat next to her on the seat. “Um, eight again? Gives you four hours to get home and eat, then meet at mine?”

  “Sure.”

  “Think you can do it by then?”

  “Hardy-ha-ha.”

  “Last day of the year, huh?” Cass twirled the nearly empty glass of juice.

  “I don’t know why you get so whimsical about it,” Steph replied as she slumped into the seat. “It’s just another day.”

  “Hush your mouth! It’s not ‘just another day’. It’s the promise of a new year, and new beginnings; a chance to leave the disappointments of the previous year behind and start anew. Re-invent yourself.”

  Steph raised an eyebrow, and sat forward again. “You do realise people will still know it’s you tomorrow? Life won’t be that different?”

  “Stop being such a downer, babe.” Cass frowned. “Tell you what. I dare you, Miss Routine-is-my-life, to make a resolution when you get home. And it better be a bloody good one, because I want you to tell it to me when you get to mine tonight, so I can be sure you keep it.”