“Wow,” she huffed, slumping bonelessly into him.
“Wow is good. I’ll take wow.”
“Now show me.” She righted herself, energy kicking back up. “Show me what you want.”
“Move like you were.”
She did, taking him in those tight little motions, on now-achy hips.
“Good. Now make it a little longer.”
She lengthened the strokes, claiming nearly the full length of him with each push. He groaned against her shoulder, kissed her there, bit softly, swore. “Just like that. Exactly like that.”
She didn’t think she’d ever felt this way, taking orders from a guy. She’d been eager to please, or intimidated, or plain old obedient, but never this. Never so . . . powerful. Her muscles stiffened as she made the strokes a little quicker, a little rougher, and he was panting now, breath huffing like steam at her throat.
“Fuck, please.” His hands were on her butt, riding the motions, not rushing them. Not forcing or even urging. He was taking what she gave, and excitedly. She excited him. That thought alone had her body racing with his.
His plea heated her skin. “Don’t stop.”
No chance. This was too thrilling. This moment, like the brightest, hottest current flashing between their bodies. It all built to a frenzied head in a breath, as he clasped her hips and began thrusting himself, driving his cock quick and deep and rough, then finally going utterly still, pinning her to him as his body clenched, released, clenched, and ultimately relaxed.
Their skin was slick, collective breath rushing in the otherwise silent space.
She could smell him, that ripe male smell that tricked her for a moment into thinking it was the height of summer. The height of summer vacation, perhaps, and this the perfect summer fling. All her responsibilities and all the questions surrounding her were gone for that moment, her world reduced to a realm no wider than this mattress.
At length, he coaxed her away. She climbed under the covers while he left the bed to dispose of the condom. She welcomed his body against hers when he returned, and though she was still panting and sweaty now, the chill would find them soon enough, and she held him close.
He kissed her forehead. All she could think was, That was perfect. That was everything. Everything, and far more than she’d ever imagined sex could be.
“Hey,” he whispered, when neither had uttered a sound in some time. He said that a lot, and the word felt like theirs. A miniature tradition, like how Casey announced, “Red alert,” when detecting a diaper situation.
“Hey.” She snuggled closer, no matter that his leg hair sort of itched her sweaty thighs, or that her face was probably all flushed and shiny. Everything was perfect, the way it was. She couldn’t remember feeling this content. Not in years and years.
Not without drugs, anyhow.
All in all, the sex had probably taken only ten minutes, fifteen at the most. And yet it had been the most intense and indelible encounter she’d ever had. No candles, no music; not even privacy, when you got down to it. She didn’t need those things when she had Casey. All the romantic trappings in the world paled next to the feeling of being so free with a man. So accepted, and so cared for.
“You sleepy?” he asked.
“Only a little.”
“Tell me about the house, then.”
“I’d like a garden,” she said. “Like my grandma and my mama had—beds all along the front of the house. Though the flowers here would be different. It’s so dry. But red flowers, to match the door and the mailbox.”
“Good. Now tell me something about you,” he said.
Her nerves prickled, chasing away the peace her body had found in the sex. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing heavy. Something nice. Just tell me something I don’t know about you, Abilene Price.”
That’s not my name, for one. “Like what?”
“Like, what were you like in high school?”
“Well,” she said, tiptoeing into the shallow end of a deep, dark pool. “I didn’t graduate, so that’ll probably tell you something.”
“No?”
“No. I only got through my sophomore year. Things got rough after that.”
“Okay, but before the rough stuff. What was it like then?”
“I liked school,” she said, realizing how true that was. She carried a lot of shame around how her education had concluded, and avoided thinking about it whenever possible. But that was true, she had liked school. And it had liked her.
“I got straight As. I had to try hard for them in algebra and during the physics parts of science class, but the rest was easy. I was on the junior varsity cheer team, too. And I sang in the school choir.”
“You sound like the opposite of me,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I aced all my math and science classes, but scraped out plenty of Ds in English and history. Mainly because I didn’t give a shit, though. I probably could’ve done way better, but I had, like, fuck-all motivation to try if it wasn’t something that interested me.”
“Were you a nerd?” she teased.
Casey laughed. “No, probably not. Fortuity shared a school system with four other podunk little towns, and it was pretty bare-bones. No math team, no chess club, none of those Advanced Placement courses. Plus I probably thought I was too cool for that shit, anyhow.”
“I was on the debate team for a semester.”
“Were you any good?”
“I dunno. At the research part of it, maybe. But honestly, probably not. I didn’t like standing up there, arguing with smart people. I mean, I used to think I was pretty smart myself, but I don’t like conflict. Not even civilized conflict.”
“Do you not think you’re smart anymore?” he asked, sounding troubled by that throwaway comment.
“Well, no. Not really. I mean, I’m not dumb or anything, but I’ve got a tenth-grade education. I was smart for a fifteen-, sixteen-year-old, but mostly because I was a good student. I doubt I’ve read more than a dozen books in—” She caught herself, about to say, in the past five years, which, if Casey was as good at math as he claimed, would’ve told him she wasn’t twenty-four, as most people believed. “Since then,” she finished lamely. A dozen books in five years, and at least half of those had been since Mercy had been born. Babies were good for providing sleepless nights and restless brains.
“I could be smart again,” she decided aloud. “If I ever had a chance to go back to school.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It sounds like a luxury. Like I said, I’d rather have a skill, like hairstyling or something. Getting a bachelor’s . . . I don’t even know what I’d want to study. If it can’t help me pay my rent, and quickly, it sounds too frivolous to imagine. But maybe in a few years, when Mercy is in school herself, I could take some classes. I’d like to learn Spanish again. I was good at Spanish, and it’d be useful around here. How, I’m not sure. Maybe if I ever got some job at the casino or something. Some kind of administrative job.” Such a thing sounded pleasant—steady and air-conditioned, with benefits, if not a ton of mental stimulation.
“If you’d ever forgive me,” she added, wondering what kind of a future Benji’s had, once the Eclipse was up and running. The coming crowds could have them thriving, or the accompanying competition could choke them into oblivion. It was hard to guess.
“You do whatever you need to do,” he said. “And pretending the casino’s not coming won’t make it so. I’m all about exploiting a given situation, so if you decide it’s what you want, I’d never tell you not to.”
“Your brother would probably say it’s disloyal.”
“My brother would also say that family comes first,” Casey said. “And you have to do what’s best for Mercy.”
She nodded, mussing her already chaotic hair against the pillow. “I’m trying to, anyhow.”