The Safety of Nowhere (8 page)

“Now stand up and turn around,” he said. His voice was lower, slightly rougher. She thought she knew what he would demand next.

“Kneel on the bench and bend over.” Dinah drew a breath and did it. She did it completely for him, knees apart, back arched, ass and pussy fully exposed. She could feel the tingling, the gathering wetness.

“Don’t move.” He rose and came toward her. “You disobeyed me, slave.”

“I didn’t.” Dinah lifted up to face him. He placed his palm between her shoulder blades and pushed her down again.

“You hesitated,” he informed her. “A minor infraction, but I’ll still have to punish you.”

Something slapped against her bottom. Dinah gasped. The paddle? That thing was a joke; it wasn’t real.

“What is it about bright red ass cheeks that always makes my cock so hard?” He brought the paddle down again. It didn’t hurt. A little sting, but more than that, it teased up her arousal. He spanked her ass a few more times, the light wood made the slightest contact with her swollen pussy lips, and Dinah moaned and stretched for more. He stopped.

“Kiss it.” He thrust the paddle underneath her mouth. Dinah gave it a wet kiss.

“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “Your attitude’s improved. Maybe I should let you come.” His fingers furrowed in her slit. “Is that a good idea?” She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. He rubbed between her legs in a distracted way, like someone scratching a friendly dog between its ears. Dinah didn’t care. It was incredible. She wiggled under the caress.

“You’re very dirty moving on my hand like that.” He paddled her again—a long cascade of even blows that raised her skin in pinpricks and made her vision blur. “Very well.” He pressed his fingers into her. “Use my hand to make yourself come.”

Dinah rocked her hips against him.

“That’s right. Let me see that red ass bobbing up and down.”

She pressed her face into the paddle he’d let go of, circling on his fingers while the nastiness took hold of her, shredding all her inhibition. He teased the flame with random brushing strokes and pinches on her breasts, the inside of her thighs. “That’s right, come now,” he ordered, and she did it, pussy spasming hard. Her body shuddered, her breath rasped, and her legs gave out, bringing her down.

When it was over, blood rose to her face and burned. She crawled into the center of the bed and pulled her arms and legs into a ball.

She couldn’t look at him. It was too embarrassing. She heard him though. He stood. He moved. His clothes came off, and he was on the bed, positioning himself beside her.

“That was more than twenty minutes,” Dinah mumbled. She felt tight and wet and used. Her ass was tingling, her pussy soaked. Her postorgasmic high had quickly cooled into mortification.

Gently he unfolded her, fought his way into the fray of her emotions, and subdued them all by pulling her into his arms, his big cock brushing the damp and tender skin between her thighs.

With subtle pressure he pushed at her knees and shoulders until he had her on her back. “Look at me,” he urged. “We’re partners in all this, remember. I feel it with you. I want it with you. My body’s hot. My cock is hard and aching to push into you.”

“Yes.” Dinah pulled at him, suddenly shaking with the need to fuck. “Yes, I want you.” And she had him, filling her and holding her and kissing her until she’d let go of restraint again.

Malcolm gathered her against him, moving her from one position to another. There was no hurry in him, so Dinah let go of her sense of time and purpose too. She came alive to him, trembling on the edge of here and now. His movements were as deep and slow as moans. The rolling, tactile pleasure went on and on, and when sensation overtook her, Dinah shook with it.

Malcolm trembled too. Jaw slack, skin glistening with sweat, he seemed to have cut all his tethers to this world, rising with her all the way, just as he’d promised.

Chapter Five

Rocco Evers loved his boy.

That was more than could be said for the bitch mother who ran out on him not two years after he was born. More than most men with a child who was “special.” And, no matter how often they claimed the contrary, it was more than the condescending in-laws who had somehow taken custody of his boy.

Gordon was his son, and he’d always done right by him. No one better dare to contradict him on that point.

Cindy looked like she might be about to, but as usual Joanne’s sad, gray mother preferred to do most of her talking without words. She was in the doorway, staring at him with that small, tight smile she always wore when he came for his son.

She cast a worried glance over her shoulder and stepped onto the porch. Rocco stood his ground. She was a fool if she thought a closed door would keep him from his boy. “He hasn’t been feeling well.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Rocco nearly spat the words. He knew it was a load of crap. Cindy wasn’t any brighter than the bitch she’d given birth to. Just like Joanne, she really thought a man was duty bound to honor any shit that came out of her mouth.

Women were such fucking liars. Hypocrites about it too. Let them catch a man stretching the truth a little, and they’re hurt, indignant, disgusted like he’s the worst piece of scum that ever lived. But try to call them on their own unending bullshit—all the flimsy, made-up excuses they trotted out whenever something wasn’t absolutely to their liking—and he’s a brute, a real insensitive louse. He’d seen it way too many times.

“Let’s cut the crap,” he said. “Gordon isn’t sick. He’s pissed at me. He has a right to be.” He leaned back on his heels, staring down at Cindy while he laid it out for her, real slow. “I got a woman next door to me refuses to keep her animals locked up and off my property. So instead of taking my son out on my bike like I promised, I got dragged into a fight with the guy she’s fucking. I understand exactly why my boy’s upset. That’s why I’m here. To talk it out. You need to get inside and get my son, ’cause I’m not leaving till I make things right between us.”

“What do you mean, make things right?” Cindy’s pruney face wrinkled a little more. She stared at the big bike behind him. “You’re not thinking of putting him on that, are you? You can’t.”

Rocco folded his thick arms across his chest. “You’d be surprised at what I can do.”

For a minute there it looked like it would be a standoff. Then Cindy huffed a breath, her eyes all teary as she shook her head and went inside.

She’d left him on the porch, which might be for the best. The atmosphere at the in-laws was a little less than welcoming. It also irritated him to see the tidy little Liarsland his son had been subjected to. Most days old Pat and Gordon sat there staring at images on the screen, letting Cindy run the show, the balls between their legs turning to dust. He’d kill himself before he let that kind of life grab hold of him.

Sure he was hoping to marry Julie, but that was for his son’s sake. A stable home was all he needed to get Gordon back with him for good. But Julie had run off after the fistfight on the lawn. He imagined it would take a lot more than a motorcycle ride on a nice day to smooth her mood. Rocco didn’t see the point in pandering to women. He’d tried it with Joanne and gotten shafted hard. That wasn’t happening again. No thanks.

When the door reopened he wondered if he hadn’t gotten Cindy wrong. His boy did look a little green around the gills. “What’s going on?” he said. “Come out here; let me see.”

Head hanging, Gordon did as he was told. Rocco squatted down and checked him out.

“I’m sorry, son.” Hugs put the kid on edge, so Rocco grabbed his head and wiggled it a little. “I let you down. I know I did.” He waited for those words to settle in. When they did, he got what he was after: that look of curiosity that said his boy still loved his daddy. The strong connection he felt to his son was the best thing in Rocco’s life. The most important thing.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s you and me go have some fun. Can’t let a great day like this go to waste.”

Gordon wasn’t a great mover, but it was cute the way he scampered down the steps, across the driveway. Rocco got him settled on the seat, meticulous about his safety. Not to satisfy that old cunt staring through the window, but because he was a loving father, just the man Gordon needed in his life. Rocco put the helmet on him. Tightened up the chin strap, adjusted the footrests so that everything was A-okay. Then, with Gordon’s chubby fingers curling tight around his belt, he steered the bike around and put her into gear, tearing off into the open road.

They traveled a good twenty miles west, going at a fair clip. Nothing most people would think was dangerous. At the roadway rest stop south of Highway 40, he pulled in for a snack. They told him the ice-cream truck wouldn’t be back till April, which pissed him off a little. Gordon settled for a soda and some candy happily enough.

He was a happy kid when they were out together. That’s what nobody could stand. Not Joanne, her father, and her old bitch of a mother. None of them could bear the fact that Gordon loved his daddy more than any of the rest of them. And damn if he didn’t love the boy right back.

“What do you want to do now, champ? You wanna keep going, maybe stay the night in Nordhup? Or we could head on back to my place. Grab some grub on the way?”

“Can we stop at Dinah’s so she sees me riding with you?” The idea had come over him all of a sudden. Something in it made his face light up like Christmas, eyebrows almost to his hairline, he was grinning so damn hard.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked, chucking his son on the arm.

Gordon’s pleased expression faded fast. “Never mind.” He got up and walked to the bike.

“Hold up a second,” Rocco said, snagging the kid by the collar. “What changed your mind? I got no problem stopping by her house.”

“Uh-uh.” He glanced up at his father with a new expression. Worry. Was that it? “Hey.” Rocco caught him when he tried to move again. “What’s the matter? You too ashamed of your old man to let him meet your girlfriend?” He studied the boy’s face to see if that was it. There was no love lost between him and Dinah Kelley, but he reckoned they could stand each other long enough for Gordon to show her the bike.

“Dinah’s busy.”

“What does that mean,
busy
?”

“With her friend.”

That word gave him pause. It was enough of a surprise to make Rocco forget his boy for half a second, wondering who Dinah’s
friend
could be.

He’d never fallen for her I-still-love-my-old-dead-husband routine. He had, however, figured it was true she didn’t want a man. And since Rocco sure as shit did not want her, he was just fine with that. Even his friends, horny as they were, were better off without Miss High-and-Mighty looking down on them. Something in that thought ticked Rocco off a second. He could feel his mouth get tight, his nostrils narrow with distaste. That bitch had sold her ass to an old man for real estate, and now she walked around this town acting like she was too good to talk to anyone. Twenty damn good men making love to their right hand night after night while Dinah played the reconstructed virgin—some wounded saint, toiling amid her precious rosebuds. And now she was fucking someone else?

“Anyone we know?” He stared down at his son.

“Malcolm.” Gordon shook his head. “But I don’t know him.”

That was interesting. An out-of-towner was worth looking into.

“What’s he like? He can’t be more handsome than you.”

Gordon made a sour face at that. “He’s big,” he said.

“Big, huh.” Rocco thought about that one. “Oh well.” And that was all he’d say for now. When the boy was older, he’d tell him a whole lot more: what woman were good for. How to get it. How to put their guilt trips and their hoity-toity criticisms in perspective. He’d see to it his boy was never led around by the nose like his old grampa. If possible, he’d also make sure the kid wasn’t blindsided like he himself had been. Joanne had taken off. So be it. Good riddance to bad rubbish. He’d kept the best of their relationship. Now it would be him and his boy.

He settled Gordon back on the bike. “Let’s stop at Bessie’s,” he said, full of fresh enthusiasm. “Get some hot dogs or something. And some pie. We’ll just forget about old Dinah since she’s
busy
.” For now. He’d forget about the widow Kelley for now. Later he’d go give a howdy-do to that new man of hers. No more than what a friendly neighbor like himself should do.

Chapter Six

Four days later, they had eased themselves into a nice routine. Dinah felt her housemate’s presence fold into her life, like fluffy egg white into batter, making her feel sweet and light. She went outside and Malcolm followed. His presence in the corner of her eye distracted her so many times she had to play games with herself to keep from looking at him every thirty seconds.
He’s not that handsome. Not that hot.
Then when she couldn’t take temptation anymore, she turned and stared. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, the angles in his face, the startling awareness in those blue, blue eyes. It was almost more than she could bear.

One day soon the burden of resisting him would lift, and he’d be gone for good. That was a sad thought, and reluctantly she took due note.

Content to sit and watch at first, Malcolm rose eventually, requesting some way to participate in her endeavors. His slacks and pullover were not exactly gardening gear, but Dinah gave him Cy’s long-handled pruners, which he quickly learned to wield with manly authority. As leery as she’d been to trust him with her hedges, he’d proven himself useful, cutting in the way she’d instructed, carting off the heavy refuse.

Helping her.

Inside he helped her too. That surprise was even easier to get used to. In fact, she made a big, dramatic point of lounging on the bed while he wiped down the countertops and stacked the dinner dishes back up in the cupboard.

“You missed a spot.”

His brilliant gaze swept over her. “I did?”

“Not on me,” Dinah squealed. “Over there.” Alarmed and pleased she crab-walked backward on the bed. He put the dish towel down, advancing purposefully toward her.

“Which spot did I miss?” Malcolm set out on a painstaking quest to find unchartered places on her body. He came upon some good ones, probing with his fingertips, his mouth, his teeth, his tongue: the hollow place between the ball of her foot and her toes, the soft half-moon of skin behind her ears.