All In Page 4

  Erin steered him between her lips, loving the feel of his hot, stretched skin in her mouth. She drew him deep, sucking in her cheeks, knowing how Tim loved that hollowed look on her face.

  “Ah, fuck … that’s amazing.” His voice echoed off the tiles as she angled her head, taking him into her depths. Tim grabbed a handful of her hair, urging her to take even more. His fingernails dug into her scalp. “I feel it, baby. That delicious churning before I come in your mouth. You gonna swallow all of me?” he asked, his tone wavering with arousal.

  Erin nodded, her head bobbing, her tongue washing him with long, rhythmic strokes. Tim’s balls pruned in her hand.

  “Take it all, babe, yes,” Tim hissed, his muscles going tight under her roving hands. Her pussy was tingling, soaked with the excitement that his pleasure always brought her.

  Milky heat soaked her mouth, a salty concoction that always made her thirst for more.

  ****

  Cara set the book aside, her body twitching. A thin ribbon of heat expanded between her legs. She’d never had a man’s mouth on her. Her vagina felt like a flower blooming under a hot sun. It always did when she read, only to close again and never be watered.

  That one night, when Cara thought she’d experience what some of her characters did, ended with her hiding behind a veil that she prayed would conceal and protect her from any gossip that had the power to destroy what little reputation she had.

  Maintaining any respect in The Hollow was hard enough. Accepting a date from James Dugan was the biggest mistake Cara ever made. Since then, she’d stuck with reading. It was safer.

  James Dugan was the only guy who ever showed any interest in her. The fact that she lived in The Hollow didn’t seem to matter to him, so when he’d asked her out, Cara thought she better take the chance while she had it.

  Though he’d wined and dined her, looking back, Cara supposed that James just assumed that where she came from gave him free license to use her body.

  He’d been notorious for smoking weed and dealing it to most of the losers in her neighborhood. Cara didn’t like to smoke pot. It made her lazy and depressed, only adding to her grim surroundings.

  Marijuana only magnified everything that was wrong with her life—that desperate dead-end feeling that was hard enough to shake off while you were straight. When James offered her a few puffs off of his peculiar-looking cigarette, Cara had learned what “peer pressure” meant. She’d only taken two puffs, but the potent THC had raced through her veins, causing her body to go limp, sucking all the defensible energy out of her.

  James had taken her virginity that night. He wasn’t the one Cara had wanted to give it to. It hadn’t been violent, and in the end she had consented, though her body felt too lifeless to rebel.

  That night was the night Cara learned that fiction was fiction, and real life was cruel. She had welcomed James during the foreplay, only to have every fantasy shattered to pieces with his forceful, insensitive conduct. Would she ever experience better? To be left with that negative impression was a stain Cara didn’t think she’d ever be able to wash away.

  Thank God she’d gotten on the pill through a reduced-insurance program due to her mother’s ever-fluctuating income. Cara had even snuck an appointment in at the clinic, petrified that there might have been a possibility that she’d caught something from the hard, cold encounter. She’d escaped unscathed physically, though the emotional trauma still lingered.

  Chapter Ten

  “Take forty-five for lunch,” Barry told him. “Things look great, Mick. I can’t thank you enough. You’re a goddamn workhorse.” Barry laughed, nodding with approval.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased. I needed the work, man. You’re helping me out, believe me,” Mick said.

  Barry had left for a few hours, bringing lunch back from a local deli, pleased with the progress he’d made.

  Mick had moved in all the tables and chairs. He’d just begun to assemble the stools that would line the coffee bar. Barry’s Morning Joe would be a nice place to gather. It was rustic and artsy, decorated with dark finishes and an earthy color palette.

  Mick wouldn’t ever see the full effect of Barry’s new business, but he was thankful for the work.

  The men sat outside, the weather a bit warmer but still holding the characteristic chill of being back home in Pittsburgh. Mick unwrapped his sandwich. When he lifted the bulging roll to his mouth to take a bite, he noticed Barry’s eyes. Mick shifted his gaze, meeting the view that had distracted Barry from his lunch. Mick knew when a man’s eyes were feasting.

  Cara walked down the street. Her ponytail swung behind her, her cheeks flushed with a rosy healthiness. Mick set his sandwich down, needing to freeze over any thought that might be racing through Barry’s mind. Why are some men such pigs? It ruins it for the rest of us.

  “Excuse me,” Mick said, sliding off the tailgate of Barry’s truck. He closed the distance, escorting Cara with his eyes, the view always pleasant.

  Cara’s shapely mouth curved into a wide smile. A large, gray sweater hung on her slender frame, resting right at her hips. Her jeans were faded, aged like a fine wine. A fleece vest in a bold, cobalt blue was unzipped. Mick swallowed, seeing the slight swell of her cute breasts. Her voice called out to him, slapping him upside the head.

  I have to reel it in.

  She waved. “Hey, how’s it going?” Cara asked, stopping right in front of him. Mick instantly regretted telling her to come down. He glanced behind him, only to see the other worker, Russ, whom Barry had rounded up at the last minute to check over all the plumbing in the kitchen and bathrooms, leaning against Barry’s truck, his eyes leering.

  “It’s going good… I’ll be done in like an hour,” he told her, falling into her soft brown eyes. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes tearing from her windy walk.

  “Okay,” she shrugged. “Um…”

  Heaviness settled in his gut. He did ask her to come down. Sending her back to the hotel felt rude and wrong. Barry’s voice carried through the air, nudging at Mick’s back.

  “Would your guest like a sandwich? I’ve got plenty.”

  Mick turned, meeting two sets of inquisitive eyes. He glanced back at Cara.

  “Did you eat?” he asked, boldly taking her hand, feeling the urge to take possession of her.

  Cara nodded. “I’m good,” she smiled. “I grabbed breakfast in the lobby.”

  “Well, I’ll introduce you and hopefully you won’t get bored waiting around for me,” Mick muttered.

  They sauntered over to Barry’s truck. Barry hopped off the bed, making room for them. They sat as the introductions were made.

  Russ tipped his oily blue cap, stuffing his face with a handful of potato chips. Mick looked down at his sandwich, lying on the white butcher’s paper, and instantly lost his appetite. Not wanting to offend Barry, he forced the thick bread and wads of ham and cheese down a constricted throat.

  “Where’re you guys from?” Russ asked. Mick quickly swallowed, forcing his food down. He hadn’t prepped Cara at all. He needed to cover that with her later.

  “We’re from the York area,” Mick told them, grabbing his soda. He doused his throat with the cold carbonation. Cara shot him a knowing glance and smiled. Mick would not tell anyone they were from the outskirts of Pittsburgh. While traveling, one had to exercise caution.

  Cara was so in tune with him. She knew exactly when to jump on the bandwagon and follow his lead.

  “Wow, so what’s your plan?” Russ asked. Stray strands of red hair stuck out beneath his cap. Russ fussed with the brim above his brow, his diluted blue eyes pressing.

  “Not quite sure… I’ve got a few ideas…”

  When Barry interjected, Mick was thankful for the diversion, not liking Russ’s interrogation. Barry hadn’t asked him a thing. All he was interested in was Mick’s strong back, and Mick was fine with that.

  “We should get moving. I want to allow extra time in case we have an issue with the inspector,” Barry
said, hastily explaining. His gaze moved around the circle.

  “Yup, we’re here to get it done,” Mick agreed, rising to his feet.

  They wrapped up their tailgate picnic and moved inside the barren eatery. Mick guided Cara to a nearby stool at the bar, figuring she could hand him the screws and dowels so he could finish assembling the remaining stools, then head back to the hotel.

  Russ made every excuse to emerge from the back. Mick didn’t like the tours Russ’s eyes were making over Cara. Of course, Cara was her polite, usual self, one of the many reasons Mick loved her so deeply. She exhibited an honest goodness that was way too good for The Hollow. That’s why, when Mick began to form his plan, he knew he’d never leave her behind.

  Having Cara with him also gave him the added incentive to be the best he could be. Leaving was the first necessary element so he could be successful and make that happen.

  He wanted to be everything to her, the man of her dreams. Mick knew it was ridiculously cliché. He couldn’t help it. Cara was his American dream, a warm, sensual dream that filled his heart and soul with contentment. He wanted to fill every corner of her and reap the rewards of exclusivity.

  Cara had a courageous spirit. If she didn’t, she would’ve never left with him, Mick chuckled to himself, both entertained and frightened by his musings. The stool above him swayed, pulling his gaze up to her.

  Cara grinned, waving playfully. Mick swallowed hard. There was something in there, something not pretty. He could see it lingering in her eyes from time to time, something she tried to bury maybe. Mick returned her smile, feeling his insides light up like a flare. Whatever was there, Mick was determined to find it and make it his.

  Chapter Eleven

  “That’s the best meal we’ve had,” Cara said, glancing up at him.

  “It was good, worth every penny,” Mick nodded, clearing the table. “How about a coffee? Wanna walk down with me?”

  “Sure.” Cara stood, retrieving their coats.

  Mick tossed their garbage in the trash. They’d gotten take-out from Mama Italy’s, which had tasted incredible. He’d made over a hundred dollars today, and Barry needed him tomorrow as well. Mick’s worries over money were beginning to ease.

  They walked in silence. The lighted vending machines cast a bluish glow across the concrete. Dots of glowing stars hung in the sky.

  Mick fed money into the machines and they made their selections. As they walked back, Mick paused to lean over the railing, four floors above a vacant parking lot. Tomorrow was Monday. He assumed a lot of the weekenders had packed up and left.

  Cara stood next to him, her breathing always sounding in his ears, reminding him of a life he wanted to be paired with his. He faced her, drinking in her profile before he spoke.

  “So … what’s your take on what we’re doing? I’d like your input. I feel like I’m dragging you down the road blindfolded.”

  Cara faced him, her eyes shiny under the lights. Wisps of loose hair had escaped her ponytail, brushing against her cheekbones.

  “Well,” she shrugged. “I’d like to get a job. I need to be helping out.” Cara rested her elbows on the rail next to his. She lifted the steaming cup to her mouth, taking a cautious sip.

  Mick caught his words before they tumbled from his mouth. He didn’t want to hover. He just wanted her wound to heal. He reiterated his previous statement. “You’ll be working. I just want to get to a better location. Is that okay? I mean, after tomorrow we’re hitting the road again. No sense landing you a job here,” Mick said, explaining his reasoning.

  Her hand covered his, and his pores drank in her warmth.

  “I know,” she smiled. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to take care of me. I can pull my weight with this thing … this excursion,” she told him. Musical laughter filled in the spaces around her words. She patted his hand, withdrawing her touch.

  “I’m aware of that,” Mick said. His heart swelled, adhering to his ribcage, making breathing difficult.

  Cara’s next inquiry had his pulse racing.

  “When we find our resting spot, then we can get a place, right?”

  It sounded wonderful, so absolute. A normal home, just the two of them with financial stability. Did she know of his full intentions?

  “You bet, anything you want. I’ll let you choose the place.” Mick’s lips spread into a wide smile. He didn’t share his interest of residing in a shore town. Mick wanted to wait and see what Cara’s thoughts were, then they’d weigh their options.

  “Oh, come on!” Cara playfully swatted him.

  “I’m serious. The call’s yours,” he insisted. “Whatever you want.” His tone dipped.

  Cara’s eyes brightened. “Okay, I’ll hold you to that.”

  “I always keep my promises,” Mick said, his voice softening with an emotion he wasn’t sure he could contain for much longer.

  ****

  After they returned, Cara went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Mick peeled off his jeans and sweatshirt and rolled them up, putting them inside a plastic laundry bag, courtesy of the hotel, and brushed his teeth. As he walked the length of the room to get the remote, he brushed up against Cara’s pack sitting on the dresser, causing it to fall. The contents spilled out across the carpeting.

  Several tattered paperbacks lay open. Mick reached down, scooping up the books, the water still running inside the bathroom. He tossed Cara’s hairbrush inside her pack and then turned the books over in his hands. The colorful, graphic covers had his mouth falling open.

  Down and Dirty?

  The bared flesh of both the hero and heroine had him fascinated. The hero was dipping her in his embrace, his hand on her upper thigh. The heroine’s leg was wrapped around his hip, her garters blood red. Mick’s eyes went wide, flipping over the other book, and was greeted with a similar arousing scene.

  Marred and Scarred.

  Two silhouetted figures burned in his eyes. The woman was being held from behind, her neck pulled to the side as the hero’s mouth gorged on the flesh of her curved neck. A bare, muscled chest and full breasts barely covered with a loose-fitting, white blouse nourished Mick’s eyes. The questions attacked his mind.

  I had no idea Cara read stuff like this.

  Mick shook his head as if he were hallucinating. Fiction was one thing, but if real life decided to deliver, was this something Cara would want? Would she want it with him?

  Mick fanned the pages through his fingers, pausing on page sixty-two. Seeing the word pussy had his dick rejoicing inside his boxers. His face lit up with a flash of heat.

  Holy shit!

  The lock turned on the bathroom door. Mick quickly buried the books deep inside her pack, hoping they’d been on the bottom. He rubbed a pair of sweaty palms down his thighs and hopped on the bed, reclining back against the pillows, trying to look nonchalant, needing to slow his excited breaths.

  ****

  “Crashing already?” Cara turned, running the brush through her hair. Wet strands of hair clung to her shoulders.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty beat, plus Barry’s coming for me early again,” he told her, stifling a yawn.

  “You want me to take a walk down tomorrow?” Cara flipped off the light. She reached her bed and slipped between the cool sheets.

  “Nah, hang here. I think we’ll be done early,” Mick said, rolling over.

  “Okay.” Cara lifted a shoulder, plumping the pillow beneath her head.

  Mick seemed a bit off. There was a distance she hadn’t felt earlier while they were discussing their plans. Did she say something to offend him?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Mick, I can’t tell you how glad I am that we crossed paths,” Barry told him, shaking his hand. Mick broke the exchange and folded the wad of cash, stuffing it inside his pocket. “Where you headed next?” Barry asked.

  Mick glanced around, noticing that Russ was thankfully still in the back. He didn’t want Russ to know anything. Russ had already inquired this mor
ning whether Cara was planning on stopping by.

  “I’m not sure. I have to work on that tonight, but it’s time for us to move on,” Mick said, his voice unsteady.

  “Well,” Barry kneaded his chin. “The reason I’m asking is my brother, Ken, owns a tavern in New Brunswick, New Jersey. Do you know where that is?”

  “That’s down in the central part of the state, right?” Mick asked.

  “Yeah, right near Rutgers University. I was talking to him last night and he could use an extra set of hands. He may have something for Cara, too. It’s pledge season so those fraternities keep him busy,” Barry told him. “If you think you’d be interested…”

  “You know … I think I might. Can I catch a bus from here?” Mick asked. His mind began to surge ahead. The location of Barry’s brother’s tavern would bring them closer to his ultimate, desired destination. The longer he thought about it, Mick didn’t think he’d have trouble selling Cara on a shore rental.

  They really needed to get down there before April. By then Mick knew the rents would be increasing due to the demands of the summer season. That meant they’d have to earn and sock away some serious cash for the deposit and any other needed essentials. It was a rash decision, but another opportunity Mick didn’t think they should pass up.

  “Call him back and tell him I’ll take it. We’ll get down there as soon as we can.”

  “Great.” Barry pulled out his smart phone.

  “Hey,” Mick said, pausing for a moment, needing to soak this all in. “Can you get the bus schedule on that thing?”

  “You bet. I’ll do a search right now,” Barry told him.

  ****

  As Cara packed her things, she ruminated over their plan. Mick had borrowed Barry’s phone and called her, telling her what their next move was. The bus was leaving from the Stroudsburg station in two hours.

  Digging into the bottom of her pack, she noticed that her books were bent back, the covers creased.

  Her stomach rose into her throat. Notions of Mick seeing her books and learning their content had her brow beading with sweat. Mick wasn’t the nosy type. She probably left them like that herself, having hastily put them away when he came into the room.