Every girl would secretly want to be “the one” even though she might lie to herself that she did not. It was a man’s view of the woman he desired, and even loved: bitter, sweet, defiant, admiring and f**king sexy as hel .
Regardless of al that, the chorus was a repeat of “she’s the one”, present tense, which said it al .
“Whisky,” I said quietly because I didn’t know what else to say.
He tugged off his t-shirt, dropped it on the floor and turned out the lamp. I heard rustling in the dark while he took off the rest of his clothes and then the bed moved as he got on it.
He lay down beside me but didn’t touch me and we both stayed stil in the dark.
I waited for him to touch me, turn into me, something, but he didn’t and Shamus settled his head on my bel y again.
To cover my confusion (and disappointment, if I was honest) I asked, “What’s the deal with Daisy’s husband, Marcus?”
Hank answered, “He’s bad news. Runs guns, has a stable of girls and deals drugs as a hobby.” I got up on my elbow and turned, looking down at his shadow in the dark, wondering if I should laugh. “You’re joking,” I said and I real y hoped he was.
“Nope,” he replied and my hope died.
Holy cow.
I didn’t want Daisy to be married to a bad guy. I real y liked Daisy. I wanted Daisy to be married to someone like Hank.
I asked, “Wel , how does that work, with Daisy being one of the clan?”
“Daisy’s a new addition, she’s only been around the last few weeks.”
I gasped at this piece of news. It was almost as unbelievable as knowing her husband was a crime lord.
“But, I thought you’d al known her for ages.”
“She took to watchin’ out for Jet when she had her problems and she stuck. Marcus isn’t a part of it and somehow it works.”
Boy, these people were nuts.
“What’s the deal with Marcus and Eddie?” I asked.
“Eddie wants Marcus in prison and has been workin’ to make that happen for a long time. Marcus doesn’t want to go to prison. They hate each other.”
That did not sound good.
“I don’t see this working for long,” I said. “What happens when Eddie puts Marcus in jail?”
“Daisy knows the score, so does Marcus. It’s not your problem and it isn’t mine. When that happens, we’l al deal.”
For Hank, it was simple as that. There was something very cool about that.
Even so.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I told him.
He sighed and turned to me (but, I noted, he stil didn’t touch me). “Roxanne, I like Daisy, hard not to like her. But she’s made her choice. Something happens to Marcus, and she reaches out her hand to ‘the clan’ as you cal it, I expect everyone wil take hold.”
“Including you?” I asked, needing to know the answer to that as much as I needed oxygen.
“Includin’ me.”
I felt something settle in me. It wasn’t in my bel y, my heart or my mind. It was everywhere. It was in my soul.
Hank got up and walked through the dark room and turned off Springsteen in the middle of “Jungleland”.
He lay down beside me and again didn’t touch me.
“Whisky?”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing.”
I was stymied; I wanted Hank to touch me. I didn’t want to admit it but there it was.
I’d never touched him. I had but I’d never made the first move.
I lay there some more.
Oh, f**k it. I thought and then rol ed into him.
My hands went to his chest and my lips went to his col arbone. His arm curled around my waist, Shamus got the hint, jumped off the bed and meandered out of the room.
“Thought you were never gonna do that,” he muttered and I could swear he sounded relieved.
I didn’t answer, I was busy, or at least my mouth was.
I explored his col arbone and neck with my mouth and tongue then I kissed him. He let me taste him, even tease him, al owing me control of the kiss and it was heady stuff.
Then I moved down, slowly, discovering his chest and abs with my hands, mouth, teeth and tongue. The whole time he stroked my hip, bottom and back, but otherwise, he didn’t touch me.
I took my time, enjoying the feel and taste of him and his response, which consisted of the tightening of muscles, low groans (my favorites) and sometimes his fingers would bite into me if I did something he real y liked.
Then I dipped lower, taking him into my hand and then into my mouth.
His hand slid into my hair.
“Fuck,” he said low.
“Fuck,” he said low.
I knew he liked what I was doing, I could tel and it turned me on, so much so I went gung ho, giving him al my best moves and making up new ones. Al of a sudden his hand left my hair, both his hands went under my armpits and he yanked me up onto his body.
Mmm, seemed it was time to get serious.
I sat up, moving to the side, saying, “Let me take off –” but he pul ed me back over him and pushed me up so I was straddling him. His hands went to my underwear and gave them a vicious tug. My h*ps jerked forward, the material tore and then my panties were gone.
“Whisky,” I said, stunned that he just tore off my underwear (maybe he was part caveman, except a real y good-looking one (and without al the hair)) but I had no time to process this. His hands were at my h*ps and he pushed down just as his h*ps lifted up and he slammed into me.
It felt great, unbelievably great and I nearly lost track of what I was doing. I bit my lip, control ing my desire to let him take over and bent forward, kissing his neck under his ear and said, “Hank, please. This time let me.” Partly, I did this because I wanted to give him something but partly I did this because it was f**king wel my turn.
His grip loosened at my hips, which I took as his affirmative answer, and I started moving slowly, exploring his neck with my mouth al the while. When it was time to stop playing, when I knew we both wanted more, I pul ed up but didn’t go down, thinking to give him a taste of his own medicine.
In his ear I said, “I want my car back.”
“Sunshine,” he groaned, his hands biting into me.
“Promise me Hank.”
He laid stil and, just when I thought I had him where I wanted him, his hands tightened and he flipped me to my back and took over, pushing in deep and then grinding.
“Whisky! It’s my turn!” I cried, wrapping my arms around him and lifting my h*ps into his.