Pistol (12 page)

One way to find out.

Steph gently wrapped her fingers about him—so hard, so thick—and made slow, even strokes. He hummed above her, and naturally her pace quickened. Still in a daze, she watched as her fingers slid up and down, around and over. On impulse, Steph shot forward and ran her tongue up the length of his arousal. She closed her eyes at the sweet, salty taste, and closed her lips over the tip. Complete awareness returned to her like a slap to the side of the head. She was at work ... in the staffroom ... with her mouth over
him
.

Her
heartbeat fluttered, and warmth built between her legs.

“Fuck,” Pete whispered through a strained breath.

His pleasure at what she did for him spurred her on. She was eager to hear his bliss, his enjoyment of what she could do. How perfect it would be if he was to beg. Steph continued to stroke the base of his cock as she swirled her tongue over the top. Her lips clamped over the shaft, and she drew her breath in to create a vacuum as she pulled free.

Pete literally growled.

I hope like hell nobody heard that.

Still, she didn’t consider stopping.
She repeated the action; his hips ever so slightly rose with each draw of her lips off his hard length. She played with him, toyed with him, and brought him to the brink. No way could she deny that a blowjob in her workplace had her turned on from the danger of it all, but this was about payback. Steph dragged out her tease until he caved.

He begged.

“Oh, Cutie. Just fuckin’ suck it out of me. Jesus, that’s good,” he hissed in hushed tones.

She increased her pace,
and her arousal hummed with every quiet moan he made. Certain he was on the edge, she abruptly stopped. Steph stood before him, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; the exact same way he had. His eyes darkened with need as she took a step back.

“What the fuck are ya doin’?”

Steph tapped her wrist. “Times up.”

A smile spread over his face. “
Ya little tease.”

She grinned happily.
How’d you like that? Huh?

“But you’re wrong, Cutie.” He lunged out, and caught her by the hip. “There’s still thirty seconds to go.”

Pete spun her around him, and pinned her face-first to the door with his body—hot and hard.
Everybody had to hear that. Thank Christ I’m about to transfer.
Steph sighed, aware she should fight him, and tell him how wrong this was, but her body betrayed her and arched against the pressure his hips placed on her backside.

“See,
Love,” he whispered in her ear. “Ya love it.”

She gasped as his hand wrenched her knee-length skirt to her
waist. His fingers found their way to the crotch of her panties, and tucked the fabric aside. Gently, he stroked his fingertips along her swollen folds, and drew a whimper from her.

“How bad
ya want me?” His tone demanded an answer.

“Bad,” she breathed.

“Yeah?” The tip of his erection nudged her sensitive flesh. Steph sucked in a sharp breath. “This what ya want?”

She nodded, too breathless to speak.

He gave her enough pressure to gently ease her apart, his arousal slick against her own. “Tell me again, Cutie. What should I do?”

Steph couldn’t believe
how effortlessly the words came from her mouth. “Fuck me hard, Pete. Now,” she whispered.

Immediately he was gone
. A cold breeze shocked her warmth where he once was. She looked over her shoulder, eyebrows pulled together. “How come …?”

He grinned, a full devil-come-hither smile. “Know who you’re playing,
Love.” He held her confused stare as he drew his pants up and re-buckled his belt. “See ya after work. Take it ya haven’t moved yet?”

She shook her head violently,
and then set about righting her skirt.
Damn
. She’d need to visit the ladies before she could show her face in the office again. Her cheeks flushed more than the last time she’d attempted to go for a run.

“I’ll see
meself out.” He stroked the side of her face, down her neck, and to the valley of her breasts. “Behave while I’m gone, will ya?”

Yet again, she stood flabbergasted as he simply left. Surely she had to qualify for some sort of a degree in mind-fuckery by now? Seemed it happened on a regular enough
basis where Pete was concerned.

Steph ran a shaky hand through her hair, and licked her lips.

Salty.

Pete caught the eye of the curly blonde he recognised from the bar, and smiled. She returned the expression, but her eyebrows twitched enough that he knew she was suspicious of him.

Jesus—he was suspicious of himself.

The incredible satiny-smooth texture of Steph’s lips on him
nearly caused him to lose himself, to forget where he was. But he pulled himself back in time.
Too close. Far too close.
What could have happened if he hadn’t? No need to dwell on things that weren’t. He’d saved the situation, reminded her who was boss in this game. Pete chuckled to himself as the receptionist scowled at him pass through the foyer. He tossed his hand up—middle finger raised—and stepped out into the bright sunshine of another fucking rosy day.

Fuck nature.

He drew his hand over the slight stubble on his jaw, and fell back into the moment they shared. Thank Christ he’d had the foresight to pin his hands behind his head, because the way her dark hair looked as it slid over the job she gave him—like a dark cloud that crossed a beautiful eclipse—he wanted to grab a fistful of her locks and drive himself deep into her hot, little mouth.

Get yourself together,
ya gob-shite.

How had he let it get like this? How the fuck had she got under his skin so easily? The woman was a damn leech; invasive and draining. All he wanted from her was the chance at being understood. A chance at a woman who could level him out
, make him act
normal
. But Jesus, this one made him fuckin’ worse.

Space.
He needed space.

Why had he said he would s
ee her tonight? He was like a junkie who walked out of the hospital after an over-dose to look for the next hit. The habit had to go. He needed to nip it in the bud—even if she could be his match. The woman was dangerous, a Pandora’s Box of sexual bliss. She made him think with the wrong brain, and that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t let her stay. Maybe the world had thrown him a big wake-up call when fate decided she was going to move away? Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise? The separation he wasn’t strong enough to do on his own, because Lord knows he wanted her mouth on him again—right now. Public streets and all.

Shit.

Shit, shit, double shit.

Pete dropped his head back on his shoulders, and squinted into the glaring sun. He’d visit tonight, like he’d promised, but only to tell her he couldn’t keep her on. Why did such a sudden sickness take him over when he thought that? He knew it too well—regret, apprehension. He didn’t
want
to let her go. He simply
had
to. He needed to drop her for the sake of his health.

R
ight now wasn’t the time to start into a self-indulgent relationship.

Relationship—huh.

No. He needed focus.
Especially when shit was about to get as fuckin’ real as it
could
get.

****

The lights spilt a soft creamy glow over the walkway as he approached. Had she thought he would turn up? Or had she hoped he lied? Pete stopped outside the plain black door to her unit, and drew a breath to compose himself.

He needed to remain cool, distant, and unaffected—no matter what she did to unnerve him.

Not that it usually took much.

He lifted his hand, and knocked.
Small scuffs were audible from the other side, but no shadows played across the low light to indicate close movement. The lock on the door clicked, and it opened, slowly, but past the limit of a chain. She drew it wide, and greeted him with a smile.

He stared,
and inwardly screamed at himself for being this deep already.
Show no emotion. Show. No. Emotion.

Steph stood in radi
ant beauty; the lamp-light cast an enticing glow over the out-fit she wore —if he could call it that. Her perfect curves were draped in another oversized t-shirt; the large neck dropped over one shoulder to reveal the tattoo he knew she had already, and more. She didn’t wear anything underneath it.
Lord have mercy.

Pete swallowed hard, and willed all the blood from his groin back into his head.

“Well?” She crossed her slender ankles as she leant into the door. “Are you coming in?”

He raked his gaze over her body; the t-shirt
had lifted on the opposite side she leant on, and exposed smooth, creamy skin on her upper thigh.

Fuck. I’m fucked.

He managed a shrug, and mentally patted himself on the back for not drooling. “I don’t think I need to.”

She stuck her head out the door, and checked both ways. “You want me to come out there?” Her eyebrow rose
, as did a corner of her velvety lips.

A shiver ran down his spine. Damn, he wanted to bite those lips so fuckin’ hard.

“I won’t stay long.” He cringed inside at how callous his tone came across. But it worked.

She dropped her gaze, and drew her arms over herself. He’d crushed her. Like a squishy little bug under his boot.

You’re an arsehole, O’Malley.

“I only wanted to stop by and wish
ya luck in yer new place.”

Her eyes lifted to his, and the unshed tears she tried so hard to hold back glistened in the glow of the distant street-light.

“You’ve been fun. This—” he gestured between them, “—has been interestin’.”

Her chin quivered, and she ducked her head
to swipe at her face with a careless hand. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. I guess, um, I might see you round.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged again.

“Thanks for stopping by.” She looked at him a last time, and the tears broke free as she took a step back to shut the door.

He lifted his hand to stop her closing it, to say something, to ease the pain of his heart
as it tore in two and became a cold, tar-covered abscess in his chest. But she was quicker. The door closed with a thud, and the light switched off shortly after. He stood at her door, and fought with himself. Should he knock again, or simply leave? After all, he’d done what he came to do—cut her free. So why did it feel so hollow? Why were his feet too heavy to move?

Crickets
chirped in the darkness, and a lonely bird chattered to itself from the tree on the driveway. Pete had stood so long that he had become a part of the scenery, imperceptible to the wildlife. He sighed, and drew a heavy hand through his hair then placed his palm on the door.  There was nothing he could do to fix how it had panned out. Unless he miraculously managed to turn back time, he’d done it; hurt her enough that she would soon forget him.

It was what he wanted. Or so he
told himself.

Steph slid down the wall of her lounge, and sat in a crumpled heap under the light-switch. Silent tears flowed at the idiot she’d made of herself. The entire lunch hour she had spoken with Cass, and convinced her somehow that Pete was worth a chance.

“I don’t know,” Cass had sighed. “He seems a little ... careless at times.”

Steph had knitted her brow, and folded another napkin into an origami crane. “I don’t know how to put it into words, but there’s something there. I feel safe with him.”

Cass had leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess you’ve got to go with your gut, babe. But for
heaven’s sake, if he so much as makes you feel uncomfortable, you damn well tell me. Okay?”

If only she knew that
‘uncomfortable’ was the very thing Steph craved about his company. Steph had nodded, relaxed slightly by the thought her bestie had her back. But now, as she whimpered into her knees, she wasn’t so sure. Shame didn’t begin to cover how she’d feel telling Cass she was right.
You did this to yourself
. Yeah, wasn’t that the truth?

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, and the tears ran dry, she trained her gaze on the front door. It’s dark,
ominous presence felt like a blatant reminder of her foolishness. Steph grabbed the hem of the t-shirt, and ripped it off over her head. She tossed it into the bedroom, more at ease with being naked than sitting in the cottony embrace of the silly way she’d put herself out there—only to have her heart trampled.

What was going through her mind? Had she honestly expected him to jump her? Be so consumed with lust that he couldn’t help himself?

She was more of an idiot than she first thought.

Her legs slumped to the floor as she contemplated going to bed. The night was over, her pride shattered, and her ego in a coma. She made a move to get up, but a slight change in the darkness around the
entrance-way drew her eye. Steph relaxed into her position once more, and squinted hard. The shadow of two shoes cut through the slip of light that seeped under the door.

He was still there?

Her heart ratcheted up a notch, her breaths short and unsatisfying.

Can he see me? What does he want?

Her questions were doomed to remain unanswered as the shadows moved away to let the unbroken glow filter in over the carpet once more. The corners of her mouth twitched downwards, and she swiped the unbidden tears back. He may as well have stung her with his words all over again for how she felt. Empty, unwanted, and
undesirable
. Her hope wanted to run after him, tell him to stay, but her heart poured cement into her limbs and made movement seem like an impossibility. A black hole of misery slowly sucked any will she had left from her weary body. She sat in her pit of despair until the sadness bloomed to rage, and then back to pity for her failed attempt.

Steph dragged herself to stand, and headed through to the bat
hroom to do her pre-bed rituals: face, teeth, toilet. Her eyes remained devoid of emotion throughout; her mind worked on zombie auto-pilot as she moved through the familiar motions.

She tucked
herself below the sheets, and let out a deep sigh. Her eyes drew closed to the nightmare of her current life. Her mother despised her, her brother and friends thought she should be more ‘
normal’
. Perhaps her appearance—tattoos, and vintage clothes—were the very reason someone as thoughtful as Ivan had never found her attractive? If she couldn’t draw the attention of a boy she spent the better part of her childhood with, then who?

Perhaps it was time
after all to become more ‘
normal’
, more socially acceptable. Dye her hair a flat shade of brown, and wear more mainstream fashion. A corner of her mind screamed that it was suicide for her identity if she went through with it. But reason argued. What good was being different, relishing what was unique about her, if no-one else cared about it? Because at the end of the work-week, all she wanted was to come home to somebody who loved her, tattoos or none, victory curls or not. Steph longed to be held—just held. To have a warm arm lay heavy over her side as she slept. Someone to bring her coffee in the morning. Another toothbrush in the bathroom.

I don’t want to
be alone.

Maybe
if she looked like all the other girls in the clubs, she could attract a man who would treat her right, love her and cherish her. A man who didn’t tease her mercilessly, and leave her confused. Crying. Alone.

Maybe.

**
**

A solid thump echoed through the unit.
What time is it?
Steph drew her head up to check the display of her phone, and cringed. She’d slept in past the alarm, and now Ivan would be here to help her shift.

With
light-headed sluggishness she plonked her feet on the floor, and pushed out of bed. Her gaze fell on her naked body—she never slept naked—and she groaned at the memory of the night before. She kicked the offending t-shirt aside, and headed to the closet. In record time she pulled on a singlet, and shorts. “Coming!”

Steph
scuffed her feet on the floor as she crossed to the door, unbolted it, and opened it onto a concerned Ivan.

“Were
you still asleep?”

She nodded.

“Hard night out on the piss, I guess, being your last day in the office and all?”

“Something
like that.” She’d let him believe whatever he wanted to. Cassie had asked her out for a drink, but she’d feigned a headache, and opted for a ‘quiet night in’ before her shift.

Ivan
wandered around the small place to suss out how many boxes she had packed, and what remained. He pointed to her relatively untouched room. “That all we’ve got left to pack?”

She nodded.
“Yeah. Won’t take me long if you want to start with the boxed stuff.”

He tipped his chin, and stooped down to pick up two boxes. “Can you prop the door open?”

“Sure.” Steph crossed the lounge, and pulled the front door onto its stopper. She was glad Ivan hadn’t asked
why
her room was still untouched. A little part of her died at the memory of how hopeful she’d been that she would have woken up this morning with Pete beside her.

Silly.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” she called after Ivan.

“No worries.” His voice drifted back through the open door as he made his way down the landing to the stairs.

A shiver shook her shoulders, and she started for the bathroom, eager to get under the soothing jets. She cranked the water on, and shut the door. As Steph stripped from her clothes, she looked at her naked form in the wide mirror above the basin. The angel inked on her chest looked sadly toward her side. Flowers curled up her left forearm. Her right shoulder burst in a bright display of coloured stars which slowly faded into a candy-store design. Steph slowly turned to look over her shoulder, and traced the lines of the fairies which danced on the centre of her back. For the first time ever, she was left confused at what to make of her art. None of it had been done lightly. She’d chosen each piece, and deliberated over it for months before going ahead with the work. But now, the pictures gave her a strange sense of foreboding. Were they the reason she attracted the wrong types? Was she
too
different?

She drew a deep sigh, and stepped into the warm flow of water. The droplets ran lines over her body, like gentle fingers
which eased her worries away. Steph dropped her forehead to the wall, and groaned. Was this how she would feel every morning from now? Would she look at the tattoos that adorned her body and cringe?

She finished off washing, and got out to dry herself as quickly as she could.
Her lip compressed between her teeth, she chose a pair of long skinny jeans and a raglan tee. She dressed, and pulled her hair back into a plain pony-tail. Steph regarded her reflection for a moment, slightly saddened at the lack of
her
that stared back. The woman who returned her gaze was exactly that; just another woman.

Ivan stopped in his
tracks, box in his arms as she emerged from the bedroom. “What did you do with Steph?”

She
shrugged, the corners of her lips drawn down. “I had to grow up sooner or later.”

Ivan placed the box on the sofa, and stepped toward her. He captured her arms in his hands, and bent down to level with her eyes. “What happened last night?”

She matched his strained expression as she fought with what to say.

“Has this got something to do with Pete?”

“Why do you jump to that conclusion?”

“Call it instinct,” Ivan drawled.

“Have you been talking to Cass?” She narrowed her gaze.

“
Perhaps. What did he do?”

“Nothing.
That’s just it.”

“So why are you suddenly ready to join a convent?”

Steph sighed heavily, and pulled free of Ivan’s grasp. “I just think that perhaps if I want to have a shot at finding a long-term kind of guy, that I better look like less trouble.”

Ivan rubbed his brow,
and shook his head. “You don’t look like trouble. You’ve always looked fantastic. You’re a beautiful woman, Steph.”

She
furrowed her brow, and pouted as she slammed her arms across her chest. “So how come everyone goes for Cass when we’re out? How come in all the time we’ve known each other you’ve never tried it on with me? Huh?”

Ivan blushed, and averted his eyes.

Oh, no way. Why did I never see it?

“I always thought you were great, Steph. All that time we ran together when we were teenagers was hell on me. I’m surprised you never noticed.”

She cocked her head to the side, and eyed him with regret. “But you never tried to kiss me? How would I know?”

“Aww
, come on.” He threw his hands at his sides, and paced the room. “Why on earth do you think I hung around you, and not your brother?”

Steph looked at her feet as she
replayed old memories for new clues. “I’m sorry I made it hard for you,” she whispered.

“Forget it.” Ivan stopped before her, and drew her into a tight hug. “I got over it. And I think I ended up with the better deal, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

He was dead right though. He may be a guy, but Ivan was closer to her than Cass. He knew all about her past, her hopes for the future, and her weakest moments. He was her rock since they were kids, and she wouldn’t risk
the loss of that for some summer fling that would have been doomed to fail from the start.

“Come on. Let’s get you shifted. Maybe we can cheer you up by starting afresh?
New place, new rules?”

“Maybe.”
She wanted to believe him, but the pull in her gut each time she thought of losing the only connection she had to Pete told her otherwise. Pete knew she lived here, and once she moved, then what? Unless she went to visit him at the bar, how could he ever know where she was?

Not that he wanted to. Hadn’t he made that clear?

So why did she think he’d be back?

****

Cass spun in Steph’s new living room, and let out a low whistle. “Wow, babe. You scored a great place here.”

Steph looked around the three bedroom house, and smiled.
Guess I have.
“Well, rent is cheaper out here, so I get more for the same as I did in town.”

“Do you what?”
Cass sighed.

Ivan placed a drink in each of their hands, and retrieved his beer. “Cheers,” he said,
and clinked glasses.

“Cheers,” Steph replied.

A throaty rumble drew close before the engine shut off. Cass glanced her way, and Steph shrugged. Nobody was due to visit, but she only knew of two people who owned V8’s, and one didn’t have her new address. She walked to the front door, and grinned as her suspicions proved correct. “Ben!”