Losers: Part II

Dante’s warning gave me the creeps. I’d been looking forward to getting away with Vincent for the weekend; even though he was going to be working, I enjoyed having the alone time with him. I’d have peace and quiet during the day so I could work on my laptop while Vince slept, and since he was away at night — well, I could work then too, if I was unable to sleep.

Which I likely wouldn’t, now that I had Dante’s warning on my mind.

“Maybe I shouldn’t leave this weekend,” I said. Aiming down the scope of the paintball gun in my hands, I pulled the trigger.

Missed.

Lucas scoffed. “Don’t do that. You’re worrying over nothing. Dante is just being cautious.” He took aim, fired, and hit his target perfectly. Yellow paint splattered across the old car door we were using for target practice.

“Well, don’t you sound optimistic for once?” I grumbled. I sounded like a jerk but I was so tired. I’d been trying to keep myself distracted from my younger brother’s upcoming birthday, and all the pain and guilt that brought with it. But this wasn’t the kind of distraction I wanted.

Lucas put up his weapon, resting it against his shoulder. Although the summer’s heat still had us in its clutches, gray storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. There was a prickle of electricity in the air, a feeling of unease. Maybe it was only my imagination, but even the dogs seemed agitated lately.

Was it a gathering storm? Or was it Reagan creeping around, watching our house, trying to cause trouble? I’d been checking the cameras every morning, but the old man hadn’t returned to the property since we got back.

“What are you scared of?” Lucas said, in a calm tone that made me feel even guiltier for snapping at him. “Is it the sideshow? Are you afraid of something happening while we’re there?”

Taking aim, I fired three rapid shots. Finally, I was successful, and blue paint splattered across the door. But it didn’t feel satisfying.

“It’s supposed to be a big crowd,” I said. Despite being an “underground” event, the meet up that weekend was likely going to attract car enthusiasts from all over the county. Hundreds of people, all gathered together in the middle of the night, outside the city limits. It was hardly a recipe for safety. “You could lose track of each other. Jess could get lost. You could all get separated and then…” I didn’t know where my tangent was leading me. Looping my arm through the gun’s strap, I let it dangle from my shoulder as I took a seat on the back porch.

Lucas sat beside me, his arms resting on his knees. I didn’t say a word, but I couldn’t help staring at the faint bruises on his wrists. It had been a couple days since the incident at the outlet mall, and he’d barely spoken about it. At least not to me.

He noticed me staring. He lifted his wrist, holding it into the sunlight as if to see it more clearly.

“You know, I was always covered in bruises when I was younger,” he said. “I broke so many damn bones as a kid, it’s amazing I’m still functional.” He flexed his scarred fingers. Some of them were stiff, and some were crooked. They were big hands that showed the years of hard work they’d been through. “But it occurred to me that if I get bruises now, it’s usually something minor from work. Or from fucking around…” His rare smile was contagious when he turned it towards me. “I’m in a better spot now than I’ve ever been. Safer. Happier. And it’s because I have all of you.”

I was shocked to hear him speak so plainly. Lucas didn’t like to discuss emotional things and I didn’t blame him. But when he did finally venture into those discussions, they always felt genuine. Too raw to be insincere.

He didn’t linger on the topic. He sat up straighter and waved his hand, as if he was trying to brush the words away. “My point is, we’ve always taken care of each other. We have to trust each other.”

“I do trust you,” I said quickly.

“Then trust that we’ll be safe this weekend. We’ll look after ourselves, we’ll be cautious. Besides, you need the time with Vince, and he needs you too.”

“Damn it.” I shook my head at him in disbelief. “Since when do you give good advice?”

He widened his eyes in mock offense. “I give flawless advice. It isn’t my fault that y’all barely listen.” He shoved me playfully and I shoved him back, our words dwindling off into laughter, then silence. But after all the shoving, his arm remained resting on my thigh.

I brushed my index finger over the yellowing bruise on his wrist. He said, “I don’t know what I would have done if Jess wasn’t there. I’d be in jail right now, J. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. I couldn’t advocate for myself, I couldn’t calm down enough to speak. But she spoke for me.” He nodded slowly. “She stayed with me. She didn’t have to, but she did. Just like any of you would have stayed.”

There was still disbelief in his voice.

“I’ll protect her,” he said. “No matter what.” He clasped my hand, hardened determination in his eyes. “Don’t feel guilty for not coming with us. Besides, you know I’m not keen on Vincent staying in the city by himself.”

When he put it that way, there was no argument to be had. I nodded, rising with him when he stood up. It was getting late in the evening, and I usually would have gone back inside to keep working. But since it was our rest day from the gym, I hadn’t gotten to see Jess that morning and I really wanted her company. After having her to ourselves during those three days in the mountains, going more than twenty-four hours without seeing her was difficult.

“What are your plans for the evening?” Lucas said, lining up his paintball gun for another shot. As if he’d read my mind, he said, “You should get out of the house for a while. Go pick up Jess and do something fun.” Ping, ping, ping. All of his shots hit their target, and he gave me a cocky smirk. “See? I got it handled.”

Arms folded, I said, “Except you’re not taking your paintball gun to the sideshow.”

“Eh, whatever, I still have good aim with my fists,” he said. I could see him watching me in my peripheral vision, waiting for me to make eye contact. But I didn’t want him to see the worry still lingering on my face. “Look, if you’re still nervous about it, you should get Jess signed up for a self-defense class or something. You’re in the gym every morning anyway.”

There certainly wasn’t enough time to teach Jess any serious self-defense skills before the weekend, but it still gave me an idea.

***

Usually I would have given Jess more warning, but I was feeling spontaneous. I called her as I drove toward her house, and she picked up on the second ring.

“Hey! I just got out of the shower,” she said. “What’s up?”

I tried not to get too distracted imagining her all naked and wet. “Got any plans tonight?”

“Nope,” she said, before adding slyly, “Unless you have plans for me?”

I chuckled. “Damn right. I’ll be there in ten.”

“What?! Wait! I can’t fix my hair in ten minutes!”

Twenty minutes later, Jess met me in my car just around the corner from her house. Her hair was styled into perfect blonde waves, her black skirt and red blouse giving her a darker look than I was used to seeing on her.

“What do you have on under that skirt, princess?” I said, after she leaned across the center console to kiss me. The skirt was tiny — almost microscopic. A very intentional tease.

“I guess you’ll have to find out later,” she said sweetly, crossing her legs as she settled into her seat. “What’s the occasion anyway? I hope I’m dressed appropriately.”

“The way you’re dressed is perfect,” I said. I really needed to keep my eyes on the road, but with her looking so damn good beside me, it was difficult to focus. “Absolutely perfect. No occasion for it; I just felt like seeing a movie.”

I didn’t need an occasion to want to spend time with her. I was thinking about her almost constantly, I missed her when she wasn’t around. When I was with her, I felt I’d chosen to do something risky, like climbing to the top of the highest diving board despite barely being able to swim. Just talking to her was a rush, touching her was intoxicating.

“Have you been to the drive-in theater before?” I said, and she shook her head. “They do ‘Throwback Thursdays’ and have older movies playing all day. Today they’re showing ‘Secretary.’ Have you ever seen it?” She shook her head again, and I grinned. “I think you’re going to like it. It’s pretty kinky.”

“Kinky?” she laughed in surprise. “Are you taking me to see a romance movie?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I said. “I like romantic shit too, you know.”

The last time I’d seen this film, the last thing I’d cared about was any romantic aspects; it was the BDSM that drew me in. It was the first movie I’d ever seen portray a Dominant and submissive relationship. That alone blew my mind.

Films with violence, torture, and death were easy to find — but movies that portrayed anything close to realistic kink were practically unheard of. It didn’t make much sense to me why consensual sex could be considered more taboo than murder. But maybe that was why I didn’t get along very well in “normal” society.

There was already a line of cars waiting to buy tickets when we reached the theater. We got a good parking spot inside and had some time to spare before the movie began, so we walked over to the concession stand for popcorn and candy. We both had a weakness for snack foods, and ended up with far more than we planned for. We dumped it all into a pile on the center console, and spent the first half hour of the movie stuffing our faces with candy.

When the first spanking scene started, it was as if the air around us was instantly charged. Glancing at Jess out of the corner of my eye, I saw exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, her lips parted slightly as her breathing deepened. She squeezed her crossed legs together for a moment, and I grinned at her obvious attempt to stimulate herself.

“Enjoying the movie so far?” I said.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “When you said it was kinky, I still wasn’t expecting a whole spanking scene.”

It was impossible to keep my eyes on the screen anymore; I only wanted to watch her. “When I was younger, before I really understood what I liked and why, I got way too excited every time I found a movie that had spanking in it. Even if it wasn’t supposed to be sexy, I was still into it. I tried so hard to excuse it as anything but a fetish.”

“I understand that feeling,” she said. Her thighs tensed again, squeezing, and I really wished they were squeezing around my head instead. “Were you more curious about doing the spanking, or being the one getting spanked?”

“Both,” I said. “Just to make things more confusing for me.”

“Does Vincent spank you?”

Her question took me by surprise, but it was sexy how confident she was talking about this. Her gaze didn’t wander away from me, her words didn’t shake. A playful half-smile remained on her face as she waited for my answer.

“He does.” There was just the right amount of humiliation involved in admitting that to her; just enough shame to make my cock pulse as it hardened. “I can be a brat sometimes, if you haven’t noticed. I push him to do it, I’m pretty clear about what I want — or so he’s told me.” Her smile had widened, and she uncrossed her legs as she leaned back at an angle, resting against the door. “You like hearing about this, don’t you?”

She nodded. She spread her legs, and her finger traced absent-mindedly along her inner thigh. Neither one of us was paying attention to the movie anymore, but the sounds of the spanking coming through my speakers made the cab feel extremely warm and small.

“I do like hearing about it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her finger had reached the edge of her skirt and kept going, dragging the cloth with it. My eyes fixated there as her hand reached the apex of her legs. “Tell me about the last time he spanked you…or about the first time.”

My cock had hardened so fast that it was uncomfortably squashed against my waistband, and I hurriedly readjusted. Shit, either she was taking cues from Vincent, or they both really enjoyed convincing me to say things that made me squirm.

“Is that embarrassing for you?” she said, a little too eagerly when I didn’t answer immediately. She was looking at me like she was hungry, like she wanted to pounce.

Did it really get her worked up to fantasize about me like that? That was…damn, I honestly felt flattered. I didn’t usually think of myself as the type anyone would bother to have fantasies about. But the way she was looking at me, like just the sight of me turned her on, was a particularly addictive ego boost.

“It’s not embarrassing,” I said. My statement wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t embarrassment, exactly — but there was a hot feeling of shame dripping through me. I liked the sensation: the warmth that pooled in my stomach, how my tongue grew clumsy, and my brain felt slowed down. “I just don’t talk about it out loud very often.”

I could almost hear Vincent’s laughter in my head. It was easy to imagine what he would say if he were here.

Since it’s so difficult to say out loud, you should be practicing. Say it, boy. Tell her every last detail.

Damn it. He’d infiltrated my brain so thoroughly, he could dominate me without even being here.

“It seems like you enjoy talking about it,” Jess said. She spread her legs wider, and lifted one up on the seat so her skirt was lewdly bunched up. Her hand was between her legs, but I could still see her lace panties beneath. “You have such a dirty mouth when you’re fucking me. I want to hear you say those dirty things about yourself, too.”

My nerves made me laugh again, and my face had grown hot. But I wanted to encourage whatever she was up to with her hand between her legs.

“I’ll tell you about the first time,” I said.

Her eyes were bright with excitement, her smile both sweet and wicked. There was a bit of haughtiness in her expression; just enough mocking pleasure that it dialed up the degradation for what I was about to say.

“Vincent and I had been dating for almost a year. We were arguing about…something. I don’t even remember honestly.” It had been something petty. Vincent didn’t like arguing; he couldn’t be bothered. Looking back on it now, the topic hadn’t bothered me nearly as much as the fact that he refused to debate with me about it. “I’d been looking for a fight. I was stressed out, irritated…”

“You wanted to take it out on someone,” she said. “So the word vomit came up.”

Yeah, that was a good way to put it: word vomit. “I definitely said some things I shouldn’t have. We were sitting in my car, I had a hatchback at the time. It was pouring rain outside. And he looked me dead in the face and said, ‘You’re acting like a brat. Do I need to treat you like one?’”

“Oh, shit.” Her eyes widened. Of all people, I was sure she could understand the feelings a threat like that inspired.

Vincent’s words had filled me with a cocktail of dread and desire. One of the many times I’d found myself afraid of the very thing I wanted. He’d been so calm, and it made me feel like a petulant child. Naturally, that only made my attitude worse.

“I’d been trying to pick a fight with him all day,” I said. “I already felt guilty and tired.” Pushing my pants down just enough to get a grip on my cock, I went on, “So I said something rude. I cursed at him. He got out of the car and I thought he was going to walk away.”

There had been a split second of terror when he got out. I’d realized, in those brief few seconds when I didn’t know what exactly he was doing, that my behavior could cost me the person I loved. Ridiculous, rash, petty behavior.

“But he didn’t walk away,” I said. A shiver went over me as she pushed her panties to the side, massaging two fingers directly over her clit. I spat, allowing the saliva to drip down to my cock so I could stroke myself. “He opened my door and pulled me out of the driver’s seat. He said, ‘Either you get into the backseat willingly or I’m spanking you in the middle of the parking lot.’ So I got in the back.”

He’d told me he was going to spank me, and I’d thought it was a joke. Half the things he said were just jokes. But part of me, a part I was still struggling to embrace back then, knew he was serious.

I’d been so damn relieved that he was serious.

“What did he spank you with?” she said, her voice breathier than usual. She was flushed, I could hear how wet she was as she pleasured herself.

“His hand, at first,” I said. The words were debasing, but they tasted as sweet as honey. My balls were drawn up tight as I jerked my hand, slick with saliva but not quite lubricated enough. “Then a hairbrush.”

“Fuck.” Her breathless curse was so goddamn sexy. It drove me wild that she was getting off to this.

“He made me bend over his lap in the backseat,” I said, dragging the words out of my memory no matter how damn difficult they were to say out loud. “He told me exactly what he was going to do to me, reminded me of my safeword, and asked me if I was going to stop him.”

“I bet you said something bratty, didn’t you?”

“Naturally.”

My response, as I recalled it, was a very prompt, “fuck you.” Which Vincent loved, because it gave him an excuse to teach me a proper lesson.

“I started fighting him when he pulled my pants down,” I said. “But I can’t ever overpower Vince. Even though I’m stronger than him.” He was a lanky motherfucker but he didn’t have the muscle I did, that was simply a fact. But his actual physical strength didn’t matter. I didn’t submit to him because he forced me to. I submitted because I wanted to — because I needed to.

“You can’t overpower him because you don’t want to be stronger,” she said. “You want him to make you weak.” Her breath hitched for a moment, pleasure softening her expression.

She understood, exactly like I knew she would.

“He made me cry like a baby,” I said, and she made a soft sound. So close to a groan, almost a whimper. The air around us felt too thick to breathe. I couldn’t bear to watch her without touching any longer. I tried to sound severe even though I was barely holding it together, as I said, “You little sadist. You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m not sorry,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “The thought of you being bent over and punished is too hot. I can’t help it.”

“I should spank you just for saying that.” I nearly choked on my words. Goddamn it, she was impossible to resist.

“Maybe I’ll bring it up to Vincent,” she said, despite my threat — perhaps because of it. “I bet he’d let me watch the next time he punishes you.”

The way she bit her lower lip, dragging it through her teeth, made me completely ravenous. I abruptly moved my seat back, giving myself more room. “You fucking brat. Get over here.”

Withdrawing her hand from between her legs, she held up her fingers so I could see her arousal coating them. She took them into her mouth, keeping her eyes on me all the while, and licked them clean.

“Fucking hell,” I said, and she smiled as she popped her fingers from her mouth.

She crawled onto my lap, straddling me. She was facing me, her skirt pooling around her thighs as they framed my cock. It put her in the perfect position for me to grip her ass with both hands, squeezing her before I smacked both my palms down at once. She gasped, the sound dissolving into an enthusiastic groan.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, lowering her head and kissing my neck. The touch of her lips induced chills down my spine, and I smacked her ass again. She trembled, her mouth brushing tantalizing close to my ear. “Harder, sir.”

God, I wished I was in a position to bend her over. But space was limited. I pulled up her skirt in the back, tucking it into her waistband before I spanked her again. “You want it harder? You bad girl.” I smacked her three times in quick succession, and the way she sharply gasped in pain was so damn sexy.

Her hands gripped my shirt, kneading the fabric. Her panties were soaked and her thighs were sticky. Merely grinding on me wasn’t enough for her, and she plunged her hand under her skirt again.

Fucking hell, I could hear how wet she was as her finger moved. She threw her head back and groaned as I continued to spank her, bringing me dangerously close to coming immediately.

“Ride me, princess,” I said. She lifted up, pulled her panties to the side, and sank down on me. I smacked her again, loving the way her pussy clenched so damn tight. I kept spanking her as she impaled herself on me again and again, her hands braced on my shoulders.

“Are you going to come from getting spanked?” I said, as her eyes fluttered closed, practically rolling back in her head. I made my next smack harder than the last, hard enough that my palm stung. She cried out softly, beautifully. The slick tug and squeeze of her riding me was going to make me come far too quickly, and I wanted to see her reach her peak first.

“Stop,” I said softly, and she went still, my cock rooted deeply within her. I bent her toward me so that her head rested against my shoulder and said, “Keep touching yourself. Don’t stop until you come.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, and gasped as I began to spank her again. Every swat got a little whimper out of her, deepening with pleasure. Before long, her whimpers became moans and her legs trembled.

“I’m going to come, Jason,” she said. She clenched so fucking tight, even biting down on my neck. I growled at the pain, bucking my hips and continuing to mercilessly spank her as she throbbed on me.

“That’s it, princess,” I said. “You love that don’t you? Coming all over my cock while your ass gets spanked. Fuck —”

I came inside her, buried deep. My arms wrapped around her, keeping her crushed against me as the orgasm washed over me.

We both went limp, breathing deeply. After sitting there in silence for several minutes, sheathed inside her as she clung tightly to my shirt, I kissed her forehead and said softly, “You’re perfect, angel. You’re absolutely perfect.”

***

I took her home later that night, loathing that I had to separate from her at all.

“I’ll miss you this weekend,” she said. I was parked down the street from her house, and we’d been sitting there for nearly forty minutes just talking, our hands twined together. The engine was off, and we had only the streetlights’ illumination. “I’m glad you’re getting time with Vincent though. I think he gets really lonely without you.”

“He hates being alone,” I said. “I think if he didn’t have all of us, he’d probably be living in some hippy commune somewhere. Meditating with crystals. Drinking ayahuasca.”

She laughed at that. I adored how easy her laughter was, how it seemed to take over her whole body.

“Well, I’ll still miss you at the car show,” she said. “You haven’t taken me drifting yet.”

I’d showed off a little bit when driving her around. But I had yet to actually have her in the car while I was drifting, and I was excited to give her that experience. There was nothing else quite like it.

“Listen, Jess…” I began slowly, uncertain of exactly what to say. We hadn’t mentioned Dante’s warning to her, or Stephan’s warning either. None of us wanted to scare her. But she needed to know the reality of what was going on. “I want to talk to you about the show this weekend. It’s just that…there are going to be a lot of people there, and there’s a chance that —”

“Someone will cause trouble,” she said, finishing for me. She squeezed my hand. “Jason, I know something is up. You guys don’t want to freak me out, I get it. But I don’t get scared very easily. People are still fucking with you — with us, and I’m prepared to deal with that.”

It was a relief to hear her say that, but she didn’t only need knowledge. She needed actual preparation.

“This is for you,” I said, opening my glovebox and pulling out a bag from inside. She withdrew the palm-sized cylinder from within it, handling it carefully.

“Pepper spray?” she said. I quickly repositioned her hands, ensuring she didn’t accidentally aim the thing at me.

“Keep it on you at all times,” I said. When her eyebrows drew down into a heavy frown, I added, “Please. It’s just a precaution.”

She pulled out her keys, attaching the paper spray to her lanyard. But her frown remained, and she said, “Did something happen? Something you’re not telling me?”

“Reagan is still causing trouble,” I said. “When we got back, we found out that he’d been trespassing on the property. We just need to be careful, all of us. If you’re by yourself, I’d feel better if you carried protection.”

She tucked her keys back into her purse. “I’ll make sure I keep it with me. And I’ll be careful.”

I leaned across the seats, cupping her face with my hand. I loved the small, shy smile she gave me when I got close. “Good girl,” I said. “That’s all I needed to hear.” She leaned into my kiss, sighing softly. Her lips tasted like the sour candies she’d been eating at the theater, and the unexpected sweetness made me smile against her mouth.

“Good night, Jess,” I said, barely parting from her to whisper the words. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” She kissed my mouth again, then left a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. “But I’m excited to hear in detail about your weekend with Vincent in Dante’s fancy apartment.”

“Damn, girl. Insatiable, aren’t you?” She nodded immediately, and I laughed. “I’ll text you later. Stay out of trouble.”

“I can’t promise that,” she said sweetly, twiddling her fingers at me as she stepped out of the car. I watched her until she was inside. Then, just for safe measure, I drove around the nearby streets, on the lookout for Reagan’s old red Chevy.

Thankfully, I found no signs of him.