Avert your eyes or turn back now if you are hoping for a story without complication. Fit, meet shan. Muah.
I come back from a short break with glass number four and a hot dog for him because he said he was hungry. He's devouring the food and I'm drinking my wine when he reaches for it. I never have known him to drink really but I hand it off. He puts it on the top of the wall behind him without taking a sip.
He's got his radio out then while he's eating the cheese-covered dog. "Hey, Seth, can you bring a water up to the topside doors?" While he listens to Seth radio back in the affirmative, I swipe at his lips with my thumb. They are soft but sticky with a little bit of cheese.
"Ah can take care of mahself."
He leans in, shoving the last bites in his mouth and chewing big silly chews next to my ear. "Maybe not right now. Water's good."
I lean my head over against his shoulder. His over shirt is soft and pilled, the way clothes are when you wash them several times in a week. I bury my nose in his chest, up by the neck of his tee shirt. "You're good."
He sighs. If it weren't so loud in here, I could hear his heart beating I bet. The wine gets the blame but it's him. I cannot be held responsible when he keeps looking toward me whenever a customer isn't between us with this look that makes me melt, and now when he's so solid and so close. I lean up. His neck warms my lips. "You." I can't speak all that clearly right now but I know what I want and I hope he can read it in my eyes. "I need..."
His throat tightens as he swallows. "Yeah?"
"Ah need you." I'm whispering in his ear and it's so sweetly shaped, just there, and before God and the whole roadhouse I lean up a little more on the toes of my heels and nip the shell of it. There's a sharp intake of breath. Mine? Ours. He's either leaning down for me or his knees are buckling. I don't know. I drop my lips to the heated softness where his ear meets his neck and press a kiss ripe with the weight of my last shred of sanity. His chest is rising and falling quick, deep, and for all the people around us, I can hear nothing but the sound of him not pushing me away. My mouth opens and closes over his ear lobe and when he groans, I give it over to God and Mogen David and I suck hard.
The word seems to rip him in two as it leaves him with a violent thrash that travels up and out from his abs to his lips. "Fuck."
It's harsh and a bit stunning. His hand tightens on my arm like a vise. I lave at the his neck, sucking and swirling and wishing I had a different six or eight inches of skin under my tongue. He holds still but I notice. I feel it against the bare skin of my forearm. His hands are trembling.
I lick and suck and explore, and the deliciousness of sensation and the warmth of the wine outweighs the shame. His breathing reminds me of summer storms that rage and then disappear, and I work his throat with my mouth, wanting to keep him from going away like a thunder boomer in a burst of heat and destruction.
"You're killing me." His voice breaks on the last word.
"No." I trace a line from his ear to his Adam's apple with my tongue. "Imma waking you up."
"Can you, can you stay, later?" He inhales on a shaky breath as I wrap my hands into his hair at the back of his neck and press wet little kisses along his hairline.
I don't care about anyone or anything except this right here. I don't care if it makes me a bad person. Every woman in here and some of the guys, too, would trade me places right now if they could.
"Umh. Maybe? Alice said…" But his hands slipping under the edge of my dress at the back, down below my shoulder blades, distract me. He rubs the skin where my bra would cross if I were wearing one. I drag my breaths in, one after another, like pulling in a long rope hand over hand. "Oh. Oh." My mouth comes together as he massages my back and I bite him, just a little bite, right beneath his ear.
It's hard to see in the low light but his eyes seem to roll in his head, and his other hand moves to my ass and palms me hard. "Fucking…unf."
Obliteration. Thinking is discarded back somewhere with my sanity and my inhibitions, and all I can do is feel. I grind myself against his blue jeans and try not to scream because he's kneading my ass over my dress with those rough hands and what is life? What is anything but this? His long fingers squeeze me again and I am tasting every bit of his throat and his ear and his sweet jaw that I can reach and if he doesn't stop, oh God, oh God, don't stop. What? I'm going to expire in front of the topside doors. Is death by fondling a thing? Because sign me up. What a way to go.
Drowning. There's not enough air, and I can't get where I need to be, inside his shirt, inside his soul, inside of me, and that shoreline is too far away again and I'm going to die. My heart hammers away in my chest and I would stop but he's arching his neck and giving me more access to his jaw and we both fall into the half wall behind us a little because he's as unsteady on his feet as me. I keep seeing the ocean behind my eyelids and how you step out and it looks okay, it feels solid, but the next minute all the sand beneath you is gone and you're stumbling just to keep it together. I steady myself with one hand on his chest. I can feel his heart in there, as wild as mine but maybe stronger, just like all the rest of him.
"God," and I don't know which of us is whimpering it between our teeth like a last gasp but I flatten my tongue at his ear and touch my fingers up to his mouth and he fucking nips them with his teeth. I'm lost and the water can carry me on over to where the horizon delivers me to Saint Peter because I'm done. I'll face the music when I must and answer for my sins just as soon as the tremors stop and oh, my finger tips are wet, just lightly glistening, from him tonguing me.
"I need you." It is both a prayer and a denial of all that is holy. It's him, not me.
Seth kind of bursts through the topside doors balancing more beer cases and a big gulp of water, and I'm content to just ignore him until he touches that cup to my exposed thigh which is trying to hike itself around Edward's waist. "What?" I blink hard and pull away just a little. "What?" Seth shakes the water in my face.
"You need water before you pickle yourself. Drink this."
I'm not thirsty, at least not till I jerk the foam container out of his hands and take a sip and then a long draw, and then, yeah. I guess I am thirsty. Also, we could have been totally robbed blind for the last twenty minutes or however long that just was, and I don't think either one of us would've noticed. As soon as Seth starts ripping open cases, though, Edward sort of straightens and points to a guy walking by with two chicks in flip flops and says, "You need a beer, man?" He's luring them in and selling them three plus one for a friend, and lo and behold, he is smiling clear to Australia the whole time.
While he's settling more beer in the cart, Seth eyes me, still semi-curled around the boss man like the snake in the garden.
"You look happy." He means Edward.
I lean into Edward's plaid shirt and plant a soft kiss on his neck. "Won'er why?"
"You know why." It's low and throaty but Seth hears and shakes his head at both of us. He's got a piece of ice between his fingers now. "You two need to cool down."
"I agree. One hundred percent." Alice emerges from the aisle on our left back side, from the direction of the garage level where the service bar is. Jasper's behind her, and that timid smile he's giving me, it means trouble.
Somehow, all my drunken bravado gives out under her penetrating hazel stare. "We're going." She motions to Jasper and he reaches toward me with his arm out at the same time as I step forward because I'll go but me and her, we've got some words and now's as good a time as any. My heel catches against Edward's foot and I try to catch myself because I'm woozy and everything is hot and wavy as a mirage, but he catches me first and hands me off to Jasper's waiting arms to hitch me up and help me toward the door.
"Edward," I say, and Alice is shaking her head and holding open the topside door for us.
"Tomorrow." He nods at me. His eyes are so bright with the reflections of the neons in the windows. I reach for him and he steps forward just for a second and presses his lips against my hair. His hand on my shoulder is fleeting but it steels me, an anchor and a promise. "Goodnight, pretty girl."
There's a look between the brothers then. I don't know but I think it's both of them, keeping each other's secrets. Then we're out into the sizzling heat of another summer Chicago night.