Ten Thousand Lies (33 page)

That’s consent enough.

Pushing her onto her back, I sank into her, moaning deep within my chest. My dick burned, yet it felt so fucking good, knowing she was the one who had made it that way.

Back arching, Jaime hissed.

I held her face in my hands. “Am I hurting you?”

“In the best way possible.” She grinned up at me.

“Are you sore?”

She laughed. “Aren’t
you
?”

“Yeah, I am.” I smiled.

Wrapping her legs around my waist, she pulled me in deeper.

“Fuck,” I sighed, dropping my forehead to hers. I wanted to spend the rest of my life right here. “I’ve never been so bloody chuffed in my fucking life. I don’t know where the hell to go from here.”

“Anywhere we want,” she replied.

Pulling back, I pushed in slow, the raw feeling ebbing a little more with each stroke. “Yeah? You’ll be by my side?”

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes closing.

So bloody beautiful.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

After a shower—which wasn’t as sexy as I’d imagined bathing with a woman would be since we were both walking funny and chafed—Jaime and I sat in the kitchen with some coffee when the front door opened.

Looking destroyed, Ronen tripped in. As he took in the sight of Jaime and I sitting together, his enormous smile eclipsed the hangover he was surely experiencing.

“Awesome,” he said. “You two finally fucking official?”

“Yes,” replied Jaime without batting an eye.

Warmth infused me from head to toe.

“What the hell happened to you?” I asked.

“Fucking Lilla,” Ronen grunted. “I don’t even know how I ended up at her place, but when she was done with me, I was wrung out and crawling for the fucking door.” He looked at Jaime. “Where the fuck did you meet her? Because she’s seven fucking shades of freak. I’m not entirely sure, but I think she fucking tied me to the bed at one point.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. I keep getting this image in my head of her huge tits bouncing in my face, but I can’t move. I fucking woke up not even an hour ago. She tossed me my pants and told me to get lost.” His face split into his signature crazy smile again. “I counted four used condoms on the floor.
Four
.”

Jaime snorted into her coffee cup.

“She laughed at me when I asked for her number, too,” Ronen informed us. “I think I’m in love, man. You bring that chick around more often, Jaime.”

“Sounds like she’s over you,” I said.

“Pfft. Like that’ll stop me. What I can remember, that was the most fun I’ve had while having sex. I wanna do that again.”

“I wonder if Xanthe got some last night,” Jaime mused.

“Dude!” barked Ronen, making the both of us jump.

“What?” I asked.

“She totally ditched that guy who was all over her and left with this
massive
Scandinavian fella. Martin? Morten? Huge.
Huge!
Like, Deo looks average-sized next to that fucker. Oh, man. I hope he’s around later. I nearly lost my shit when his death-metal ass walked up and asked to buy her a drink. She got up and never looked back!” Ronen crowed with absolute delight. “Right. I’m gonna wash and crash. You two have a responsible time together today, yeah?”

Jaime and I looked into each other’s eyes as Ronen exited. She was trying and failing at holding in her laughter. Her beautiful China blues went squinty, and her nose scrunched up.

“We’re, like, the weirdest fucking family on the planet,” I said.

“You might be right about that.”

Jaime

“Do you hear that?” asked Xanthe in a harsh whisper.

I stilled, straining to catch the sound she was talking about. I was smoking a cigarette, much to Xanthe’s annoyance. I’d picked up a bad habit, hanging with Ricki.

We were standing in the back of Wurther’s after dropping off some beef stew Ellen had made for Rex and a sealed envelope with whatever Locals info that needed to be relayed to him. With the immense amount of technology in the world today, it was archaic how we passed along information. But Ellen insisted on doing it this way because technology could be cracked, as Ronen had demonstrated time and again.

There it was…a weak sort of mewling coming from around the dumpster. I nodded to Xanthe, who tiptoed over to the dank green container.

There it was again.

Xanthe sifted through the pile of cardboard boxes until she located the thing making the noise. Straightening up, she turned to face me, cradling a bedraggled, scrawny orange clump.

“Poor little guy!” she crooned, rubbing the top of its head with her fingertips.

“Is that a rat?” I asked, taking in the sight of the filthy, scraggly creature.

Xanthe shot me a nasty look. “How would you look if I found you starving in the back alley of Wurther’s, hiding beneath boxes?”

“It needs a decent meal and a thorough washing,” I retorted.

“Let’s bring him to Ellen’s and get him sorted.”

“Sorted?”

“To take him home.”

“Really? We’re taking on a cat now?”

“We can’t let the bugger stay here and die!” she snapped. “Besides, when was the last time you even slept at home?”

I’d been staying with Ricki since that first night, only going home to grab some clothes.

“What can I say? I’m happy,” I replied.

Xanthe’s look softened, and she smiled. “It’s good to see it, too. You
both
deserve happiness.”

“I know,” I said. “I can’t believe he’s never had a girlfriend or anything.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. I still had sex.”

“True,” she stated.

Perusing through a few of the boxes, she found one that wasn’t so disgusting or large, and she gently placed the wad of filthy fur in it. The kitten, who’d started purring when held to Xanthe’s generous chest, mewled in distress that he’d been plopped in a box.

“It’s okay, little man. We’re taking you home,” she told him.

Making our way around to the front of Wurther’s, we headed in the direction of the bookstore. A lazy Thursday evening was now turning into a rescue mission.

“Lilla’s got a cat. Maybe she’ll know what to do,” said Xanthe.

Pulling out my phone, I called Lilla, who said she’d be by Flight of Fancy with some kitten food and shampoo within half an hour.

“So, how’s Ricki in the sack?” Xanthe asked.

“Surprisingly awesome,” I replied. “No lie, Bro Dawg, the man is hung like a horse.”

“Really? Huh. He doesn’t look like he would be.”

“I know. I don’t even think he realized it himself.”

“He had to have,” Xanthe retorted. “Guys don’t just grow up not knowing they’re impressive.”

“If he did, he didn’t care about it.”

“So, no complaints?”

“It’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” I stated. “Only…”

“What?”

“He’s so…
gentle
. I mean, he gets passionate and all, but sometimes, I just want to tell him to pile-drive me into the bed.”

“Then, why don’t you?”

“I think it might be best to take it slow with him. He might get all butt-hurt and think he’s not good enough.” The whole utility-closet episode was still fresh in my mind—not for the humiliation, but for the way it had made Ricki feel.

“So, you’re just going to suffer in silence?”

“It’s not
suffering
!” I snapped. “He’s just inexperienced, and I think maybe letting him take it at his own pace isn’t a bad idea.”

Xanthe shrugged. “He wants to make you happy, Jaime. Just tell him.”

I sighed. “I’m sure I will sooner or later.”

At Flight of Fancy, I held the box with the kitten while Xanthe fished out her keys and unlocked the door. The bells jingled cheerfully as we let ourselves in.

“Xanthe?” came Ellen’s voice from up in her flat.

“Yeah!” Xanthe called back. She looked at me. “Just go on up. I’ll wait for Lilla.”

“All right,” I replied, taking the kitten with me.

“What the hell is that?” asked Ellen as I made it up the steps with the mewling little mess.

“Xanthe rescued a rat,” I replied, showing Ellen.

She peered into the box, wrinkling her nose. “It smells like shit. Why’d you bring it here and not to your own place?”

“Ask your niece. She wanted him here.”

“Hmm…” muttered Ellen. “I got that basin tub; maybe that’s why. Leave it with me, and go fetch the tub from out back.”

Doing Ellen’s bidding, I headed to her backyard and found the aluminum tub. It wasn’t big. As I hauled it in, I heard Lilla’s voice from the front of the shop, and I headed toward it to greet her. Strangely, she looked…nervous. Xanthe took no notice of this as she pawed through a bag of pet supplies.

“Come on,” said Xanthe, glancing my way. “Oh, good. You got the tub. Let’s get this little guy cleaned up and fed.”

Xanthe passed me in the hall to trek up the stairs, and Lilla was slow to follow.

“You all right?” I asked as she approached me.

She nodded, following Xanthe up the stairs.

Weird!

I brought up the rear with the tub.

“Lilla! So good to see you,” said Ellen when we made it up.

I squinted at the back of Lilla’s head. “You two know each other?”

Lilla cleared her throat.

Xanthe, taking the tub from my hands, paused. “What?”

“Holy shit,” I said, something dawning in my head.

“Well, it was bound to come out eventually,” said Ellen. “Lilla was recruited by Marta two years ago. The hostel is a safe house for the unfortunates. The Locals run ongoing rehabilitation there.”

Xanthe stared at Lilla with bugged eyes behind her black-rimmed glasses. “Did you know who Jaime and I were?”

“Not until you told me about Ellen being your aunt.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” asked Xanthe.

“Well, I wasn’t sure you were a part of it,” Lilla said quietly.

I nodded. “No worries then.”

There came a piteous meow from the box sitting on Ellen’s tiny kitchen table, and we dropped the matter of Lilla and the Locals.

First things first, Xanthe gave the little guy a bath while Lilla mixed together kitten food and cat milk.

“Seriously, cat milk?” I asked, picking up the bottle. “Is there a factory that milks cats or something?”

Lilla cracked up. “No. It’s baby formula for kittens.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” I conceded.

“What are the guys up to?” asked Lilla.

As far as we knew, Lilla didn’t know about Ricki, Ronen, and Rex being Locals themselves, and since Ellen didn’t volunteer any information herself, Xanthe and I didn’t mention that they were currently at headquarters, planning for Ricki’s next venture into Russian mob territory.

“They’re working late,” I sort of lied. “Why?”

Lilla shrugged.

“She’s covertly asking about Ronen,” piped Ellen from the living room. The old bat was rolling a joint. “Lilla, Ronen won’t shut up about you. Says you gave him the best sex he’s ever had. And that’s saying something, considering the weird shit he gets off on.”

Lilla’s face turned the color of glowing coals. “He told you about that?”

Ellen turned surprised eyes on her. “Those boys tell me everything, dear. Just the other night, Rex was saying he met some queer at the bar and banged his sweet ass in the ladies’ room at work.”

“Aunt Ellen, you shouldn’t call them queers,” admonished Xanthe.

“I’m too old to give a shit about your generation’s political correctness,” snapped Ellen.

“In the ladies’?” I asked. “Why the ladies’ room?”

Ellen shrugged. “Who the hell knows what goes on in that fruit’s head?”

Xanthe snorted, lifting an oddly sedate kitten out of the warm bath water. I had the towel ready and took him from her. He protested loudly.

“Oh, hush,” I told the little dude, rubbing him as dry as I could. “Quit being a wuss. You’re gonna have to be a tough guy if you want to hang with us. A beefcake.”

Lilla laughed. “He looks like a drowned squirrel.”

“I like beefcake. I think we’ll name him that,” said Xanthe. She walked up and scratched him under his tiny chin, making him purr with bliss. “Do you want to be our little Beefcake?” she crooned.

Scrawny little shit purred louder.