This Is a Dark Ride Read online

  Sam moved his hips faster, desperately in time with Brody’s strokes. Sam was going to come. Nothing was going to stop him now.

  “You just give me a little more time to get feeling better, Sam.” Brody’s warm breath brushed against his ear. Goose bumps scattered over Sam’s shoulders, and he shivered. “I can’t wait until I can fuck you again,” Brody murmured.

  Sam groaned. Brody. His Brody, fucking him again. Beautiful, loving Brody, who gave it to him in exactly the way he’d always wanted.

  Before Brody, everyone he’d met had expected him to be something he wasn’t. Because of Sam’s size and his jobs, people looked at him and just expected him to be rough and in control. Physically he could easily top another man, but that wasn’t what he wanted, or needed.

  “Let me get some lube,” Brody said, moving his hand away. Sam caught his wrist, unwilling to take the chance that Brody would change his mind or get distracted.

  “No, please. I don’t need it. Please, Brody?”

  “Let go of my arm then,” Brody said. “Put your hands up over your head and be still.”

  Sam balled his hands together as if they were tied at the wrists. Brody moved closer, jerked the covers off, and yanked Sam’s underwear down. The cool air chilled Sam’s naked skin. He squirmed, only a little, but Brody stopped stroking him.

  “I said to stay still.”

  “I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”

  Brody fisted Sam’s weeping cock possessively and squeezed real hard, pumping in earnest.

  “This is mine.”

  “Yes. Yours,” Sam said, biting down on his lower lip.

  “What do you want, Sam?”

  “I want you to fuck me. I…I need…” Panting, Sam spread his legs wider, raising his heels so they dug into the mattress. He shifted on the bed, body anxious, balls aching. “Harder, Brody, please?” He groaned. “Make it hurt.”

  Brody gave a weak laugh in response, but Sam clearly heard the desperation, the hint of sorrow woven through the laughter like dark stains. “I’m tired, Sam. Sick. It doesn’t have to hurt to be good, you know?” He squeezed just a bit harder.

  Oh, just like that. Just hard enough.

  Sam couldn’t breathe. The muscles in his belly tensed, and he arched up, desperate for release. Each stroke brought him closer. The friction on his cock grew hot, the skin chafing deliciously at Brody’s rough touch.

  The first wave rolled through him like a locomotive. One spurt, two spurts, his body vibrated with each spasm. So long… It had been so long. He was unable to keep his eyes open. Sam let his breath out in a long moan. He reached down, wanting a handful of Brody’s hair. Brody was gone. He ran from the room. Sam opened his eyes. The last twinges of his orgasm lingered. His cock still twitched, and he finished using his own hand. As the last few trickles of his release oozed onto his belly, he could hear Brody dry heaving in the bathroom.

  Sam stared at the ceiling, his own cum rapidly cooling on his stomach. He didn’t feel any real satisfaction from the orgasm. If anything he just felt emptier. There was a time when he had felt a closeness to Brody that was so real, so intense, that it consumed him. Now the only things that consumed him were worry and doubt.

  The alarm clock on the night table began beeping, and Sam sighed as he switched it off. It was time for him to get ready for work. The foreman didn’t seem to like him very much, and the last thing he needed was to be late.

  Brody walked back from the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulder. His face was deathly pale, and he wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m really sorry, Sam. My stomach’s been bothering me most of the day. I was lying on the bed all day just trying not to move, and it felt like I was on a boat, like the whole room was moving. I guess we’ll never be able to join the yacht club. I’d be puking all the time.” He gave a weak smile.

  Brody sat on the edge of the bed and began wiping Sam’s belly clean with the towel. It was an unexpected act, and Sam’s eyes watered. He wished Brody would lie back down with him, wished Brody would hold him and tell him he loved him.

  “You sure made a mess,” Brody said, making Sam feel like a clumsy kid who’d spilled grape juice on the new carpet. “I don’t think you have time to shower now, do you?”

  Sam turned his head quickly to hide his unshed tears and pretended to look at the clock. Numb, he reached for his long-sleeve thermal underwear shirt. Judging from the way it was snowing out, it was going to be a cold night at work.

  “No, but it’s okay. It was worth it.” He was lying, and he did not look back at Brody. Instead he focused his blurry gaze on Krieger’s sad face in the window and suddenly felt even sorrier for the cat than he had before. Krieger was Brody’s—he shouldn’t be out in the cold. Sam wished he had never complained about Brody feeding him. It didn’t matter who went to work or paid the rent. This was Brody’s house.

  “Thank you,” Sam said, closing his eyes.

  “For what?”

  “For letting me be…yours.”

  “Sam…you know I…”

  Love you. Please, just fucking say it, Brody! All this shit they were going through, he could feel so much more at peace inside if Brody would only say it.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sam,” Brody said solemnly.

  Yeah. Sam didn’t know what Brody would do either, aside from never eat, get high, and fuck random strangers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you” hardly seemed like a substitute for I love you.

  Sam stood and pulled his dirty jeans on. He’d worn them yesterday, but they were probably the cleanest pair he had right now. He did find a fresh pair of socks, and he laced his heavy work boots onto his already aching feet. Finally he put on his tattered and stained work coat. Last winter he’d saved up to buy a new one, but Brody had taken the money. Taken the money and shot it all up.

  Sam tried to forget about that too. He’d told Brody he’d forgiven him, but sometimes Sam wondered if he really had. At least Sam had a coat. It wasn’t a good coat, it wasn’t a new coat, but at least he had one. His mind drifted back to the girl up on the corner while he zipped it up.

  If he stopped, on a night like this when it was snowing and cold, maybe she’d go for a ride with him. At least if she was in the car he’d know she was safe and warm.

  He was seriously losing it, thinking about blowing off work to drive around with some girl. He needed to stop this dumb shit now, needed to get back to concentrating on how to make sure things were right between him and Brody.

  What the hell was he doing? Feeling sorry for himself because Brody wouldn’t say I love you? It wasn’t like that was anything new. Brody had never said it. They’d even had discussions about it, discussions where Brody had made it very clear that he’d never said those words to anyone other than his mother, and that if he ever did say them, they wouldn’t just be words that were thrown out there; he would mean them—forever.

  Sam glanced over at Brody. His sallow skin and hollow eyes tugged at Sam’s heart. Brody was trying. He was trying to get clean and stay that way, and Sam knew he was the only reason Brody was even making an attempt. It wasn’t easy for Brody, and Sam knew it. He could at least help by being supportive and stop being such an insecure, immature asshole.

  “I love you,” Sam said. There seemed no point in waiting or listening for a response that wasn’t going to come, so Sam opened the window and let Krieger in.

  Chapter Two

  Outside, the wind picked up. It whistled through the street, down the side of the building, sweeping through the alley. Thin plastic film stapled over the bathroom window frame moved in and out as if it was breathing. Cold air poured in around the sides.

  Angel shoved her lipstick tube back into the cheap plastic pouch that contained her makeup, shivering as the draft crossed her bare back. She switched on her little hair dryer. The warm air was a welcome comfort. She let it blow across her shoulders, enjoying the heat. Thank God the electric was still on.
For days she’d been expecting things to go dark, but it hadn’t been shut off yet.

  Maybe the building manager was concerned the pipes would freeze, or someone at the electric company had screwed up, but for whatever reason luck was on her side. Not only was the power on, but she’d saved almost six hundred dollars since she’d started staying here. Hopefully by tomorrow she’d have enough for a security deposit and first month’s rent, so she could live in one of the units here on the up-and-up instead of squatting in an empty.

  The thought of actually paying to live here was almost as depressing as sneaking in and out. She’d considered just taking the money and getting a bus ticket. No destination in mind other than someplace warm, somewhere there was no snow.

  Starting over. That sure sounded nice. Angel sighed. It was good to have dreams, but they couldn’t get in the way of reality. Life has to be lived, and you do what you have to. Sometimes dreams only get in the way of what must be done to survive. She licked her chapped lips, tasting the thick, waxy lipstick that coated them.

  A cockroach darted across the floor, pausing for a second near the rust-streaked bathtub. Angel stepped on it with the toe of her cheap black high-heel shoe. Those shoes had seen better days; the plastic on the heels had long ago worn away, and the fake leather was bubbled and peeling.

  It had been so cold lately that she’d started wearing socks with them to help keep her feet warm. She’s bought lace-trimmed ankle socks at the dollar store, and they didn’t look too bad with the shoes. They sold panty hose there, but the largest size they carried would not fit her. When she’d put them on, the crotch was barely above her knees. The socks were more practical anyway. It was hard to get panty hose back on in a car.

  Can’t wait for spring. Better yet, summer. Her feet wouldn’t be cold. She wouldn’t be cold anymore.

  Angel looked down at the insect and wrinkled her nose as its legs gave a final few wiggles. A single dead cockroach. That would hardly make a dent in the population. There were plenty more where that one had come from. She picked it up with a wad of tissue and tossed it into the toilet.

  No one had come to look at the empty apartment, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Angel hid her backpack under the bathroom sink, way in the back of the cupboard. All her money was tucked beneath the red-and-white-checked vinyl liner of the second drawer beside the stove in the kitchenette. Hopefully even if someone came to see the unit, they wouldn’t find that hidden money. It was safe there. Safer than it would be if she was carrying it around. Too many desperate people out there, and she wasn’t naive enough to lull herself into believing she couldn’t be robbed. It happened every day.

  Angel gave one last tired look in the mirror, trying to decide if she liked what she saw. She’d lost weight since she’d left home. Not much. She was still a size 14 all day long, but she noticed subtle differences. Maybe. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking from the little fat girl inside of her who was tired of hearing things like she has such a pretty face or big boned to describe her.

  She wasn’t pretty. Never had been.

  In the kitchenette of the unit she stood at the window, watching the snow blowing in the streetlight beams. It looked nasty out there. How nice it would be to do something normal tonight, like curl up in a warm bed and watch television.

  No TV for you, Angel. Time to psych yourself up for your own private version of normal; time to open up and say ah! Swallow some stranger’s cock like a good whore and collect your money.

  That little fat girl was just a ghost now. That poor, stupid girl who’d been ignored by every boy she liked in school, who’d had spit wads thrown at her in study hall and been called names. That girl had been an idiot.

  Men paid to fuck her now. Paid. Paid for something none of the boys she’d once liked had even wanted for free. So what if she wasn’t pretty? She gave the best head on this street.

  I don’t want to do this, the little fat girl’s voice sometimes told her.

  Fuck you. This is all you can do. This is what you are. You’re a nothing, just like you always were. At least men want you now. You should be thankful.

  She turned off the bathroom light and opened the apartment door. The hall was deserted, and she paused there in the doorway for a moment, listening to the sounds that came from inside the other units. People laughing, eating dinner, watching television, oblivious to the fact that she was here or that she’d been here. Like being dead, walking through the world unnoticed. Angel blinked back tears, tears of the little girl inside of her, and she took a deep breath until both the tears and the child were locked away.

  When she stepped into the hall and quietly closed the door to the vacant apartment behind her, the power flickered. Angel looked at the bare bulbs on the cracked, water-stained ceiling, watching them grow dim. They flashed off once again, plunging the building into blackness. She stood motionless in the stifling darkness, listening to the people inside of their apartments cursing. The power came back on in a matter of seconds, and she took advantage of the light to creep to the stairwell.

  In the hallway behind her she heard a series of faint clicks as someone began unlocking their door, and she bolted down the two flights of stairs that led to the street entrance beside the liquor store.

  It was going to be a cold one out there tonight, and she still hadn’t gotten a coat.

  She thought of the big man who’d stopped several days ago. The one who’d commented on her not wearing a coat. If she was lucky, maybe he’d come back sometime. He’d been a looker, that one. He was no regular john either—she was willing to bet the man had never paid for sex in his life.

  Angel huddled in the recess of the doorway, trying to stay out of the wind. This might be a short night. She couldn’t see being out here for long in this weather, and there wasn’t much traffic on the street.

  She promised herself she’d stop doing this as soon as she could get a place to live like a normal person. With a normal job. That nagging little bitch inside of her kept demanding to know just what exactly she knew about normal.

  Fuck you, Angel. You grew up getting fucked by the man you called Daddy. Is that normal?

  A pretty little silver car pulled up to the curb, and Angel trotted to the middle of the sidewalk, leaving the slight warmth of the doorway behind.

  Fuck you right back, fat bitch. That’s an Audi. Bryant Henderson, the boy from algebra class with the piece of shit Toyota, wouldn’t even talk to you in school. I’m gonna get paid to fuck a guy who drives an Audi.

  The wind made her shiver, but she didn’t hug herself any longer to try and stay warm. It would ruin her pose—her persona—and that was a nice car. She couldn’t afford to let this one slip away, especially on a night like tonight.

  Angel put on her best fake smile and swayed over to the driver’s window. Tinted glass opened, revealing glittering gray eyes.

  She smiled at the man behind the wheel, noting that the last thing on earth he looked like he would do was smile back.

  “Want a date?”

  “How much?”

  Despite the angry eyes, he was a young kid with a fairly pleasant tone of voice. She could only see his shirt, but it looked expensive. Silk maybe. It was a pale peach color. Angel looked at the car again. It was new. Classy. He could probably afford a little more than what she usually asked.

  “A hundred.”

  He jacked an eyebrow up. “A hundred? That’s a little steep for this end of town.” The window started to go back up.

  “Seventy-five?”

  He stopped the window midway and shook his head. “How about fifty?”

  She nodded. That was her regular price anyhow, and it was too fucking cold to be haggling anymore. Besides, he was young. This car was either his daddy’s or his daddy had paid for it, and the kid’s allowance was probably spent on frivolous things like that peachy silk shirt.

  “What’s that get me?” he asked, and she heard someone else in the car chuckle.

  More than one in t
he car. Her gut told her that was bad news, but the wind and the snow took precedence over her gut feeling.

  “Whatever you want.” She put her business face on. “But…if there’s more than one of you, it’s one at a time and that fifty dollars is per person.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up like he wanted to smile. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Get in.”

  The door was open when she walked around the car. No interior lights, but another young man sat in the front passenger seat, and he leaned forward and moved the seat up.

  “Backseat,” a voice said, and for a second she hesitated.

  “Get the fuck in the car.” She recognized the driver’s voice then, but there was no trace of the pleasant tone he’d had only a few minutes ago.

  Angel took a step back. “I don’t think—”

  A voice from the backseat interrupted her. “Come on, chill! Don’t talk to her like that. She’s cool.”

  Angel could vaguely make out the man in the back despite the car being dark. He held a liquor bottle, and she thought he was smiling.

  She peered in the backseat, squinting for a better view. They didn’t appear related. This man was older, and he was darker than the blond kid behind the wheel. Dark hair, dark eyes. He wasn’t dressed very well either, wearing some kind of work clothes.

  “Come on, baby, get in! It’s too cold out there.” He and the person in the passenger seat giggled like they shared a private joke.

  She smiled at the almost comical way he slurred his words. Just a carload of harmless drunks, celebrating something. Angel slipped between the seats and sat down in the back, beside the man with the champagne.

  “It is cold out there,” she told him as the passenger door slammed closed. “I thought it was going to be a bad night.” With three in one car she could possibly make a hundred and fifty dollars before she had to go back out in the cold. Things were definitely looking up.

  His arm went around her, tighter than she would have liked, but he was a fairly large man, so he might not have been rough on purpose.

  “You’ll be warm before you know it,” he said cheerfully. He put his hand beneath her chin and turned her face toward his. Enough light was filtering in through the windows that she got a better look at him up close.