Finding Sadie (Los Rancheros #0.5) Page 4

  “God, I fucking knew it.” He’s staring at me, and I don’t know exactly what he means. Maybe the fact I’m not wearing underwear. Maybe being shaved bare. The point is he’s still got his jeans on when I’m naked. I grab for his belt buckle, but he’s lifting me at the same time, barely catching my upper half before I slam back to the stairs because I don’t have a grip on him. Besides my legs. They aren’t letting go anytime soon.

  I quickly fix my arms to wrap around his neck and flex my stomach to help him out, practically climbing him to get to his ear. He’s so big. “Fuck me,” I whisper in his ear.

  When he gets to my bed, it doesn’t matter how hard I’m holding him, he rips me away with seemingly little effort and I bounce on the bed.

  “Fuck me. I’m fucking trying,” he says, all annoyed. It just makes me wetter.

  “Then what are you standing there for?” I almost smile at the growl I get, but it’s not against me where I can feel it and that’s no good.

  I spread my legs, making it real easy for him. He watches me as he unbuckles his belt, stripping it from the hoops with a hiss. My hands move to my nipples, rolling them as he undoes the button and finally, finally, his zipper.

  “Take it off.”

  “Demanding little thing,” he grits out as he pushes his jeans and underwear down.

  “You have no idea,” I whisper as he’s exposed to the moonlight over the ocean, let in by the wall of windows. Oh, the things I could do to him.

  He shoves my legs wider, my ass lifting with the pressure. His eyes go from my exposed center to my face before he licks his bottom lip. “This what you want, baby?”

  He rolls his cock against me, and I try to push back. The position doesn’t lend me much movement. Fuck, he has me pinned. “Fuck. Yes. Condom. Hurry.” I’m down to simple sentences.

  “Who’s going to fuck you, baby?” he asks as he slides against my folds. What? Thinking is all too impossible when he hits that spot. “Is it Batman? Is that who you want to fuck you so bad?”

  “What? No.” I finally realize my arms aren’t constrained and roll up to grab his head, bringing it down to my lips. “Batty. Not Batman,” I say into his mouth, sliding my tongue into his mouth.

  He sucks my tongue, moving to my lower lip, and I feel his teeth graze me as he lets go, pulling away. “Alright, baby. Hold on.”

  I don’t have a hold on in me except that he’s reaching for a foil packet already on the bed. When did that get there? Who cares?

  One second he’s rolling it down, the next he’s an inch deep. I gasp, it’s been so long. He grabs my thighs again, pushing them back against my chest. I widen them further, my muscles straining as they slide off of my ribs bringing him deeper. He pulls back slightly before pushing back in on a delicious groan.

  “This what you want?” He pulls back before fully seating himself inside of me. My nerves explode when his pelvis hits my clit.

  “Yes! Yes, yes, please. More.”

  “More?” he asks, pulling almost all of the way out of me before slamming into me with a slap, his thighs meeting my ass forcibly. I scream as goosebumps break out on my skin.

  “Again.”

  He lets go of my legs to tangle in my hair, pulling his fists taut as his chest abrades my nipples. Then he gets to work. Fucking me. He fucks me into the mattress. It’s hard and powerful. Luscious and smooth.

  “What do you want?” he rasps against my cheek.

  I move my hands to his back, nails digging into flesh. “Everything.”

  “Not everything. Not yet,” he gasps, pulling away from me. Breaking that delicious friction he has with my chest to pull my thighs back to the bed.

  His pace speeds up, so fast I can only stare, my eyes wanting to close but I can’t miss a second. Then he pulls me farther up, my ass and lower back in the air and I explode.

  My eyes slam shut, my body arching, thrashing as he holds me down.

  “Fucking, yes, yes, give it to me, baby,” he gasps between thrusts as I feel him harden impossibly further, then pulsing inside of me.

  I expect to take his weight after he comes, but he rolls to the side. My legs move more slowly. Sore. I am definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

  He gasps beside me, lying on his back. One hand is over his head, bicep bulging. Fuck, can I keep him?

  As if he hears the thought, he sits up with another groan, getting off the bed. He disappears in the bathroom, and I try to regulate my breathing. Getting rid of round one for two? I may be ready for that. Maybe.

  But when he comes back, it’s not to the bed, but his clothes. I sit up and watch silently as he pulls first boxer briefs, then jeans over his muscular thighs. Finally he turns to me and licks his lips, his hands on his hips.

  “What’s your name?”

  God. Damn it. Way to ruin the mood. What did I really think I was getting here? I knew but it’s always a wake-up call.

  “Sadie.”

  With a single chin lift, he’s gone.

  Later that week I was back at the shrink’s office.

  “So it went well?”

  I shrug, my necklaces jingling together.

  “You had fun? How was it seeing the kids?”

  I huff out an annoyed breath. “It fucking sucked. What do you want me to say?”

  “Did you get any perspective about your life?” she keeps digging.

  “I don’t know, Doc. It seems to me that life is just unfair all-around. Everybody gets a raw deal.”

  She motions to me with her hand. “But you have millions. You aren’t struggling to eat. What do the kids have that can be seen as a positive?”

  I want to say something completely shocking just to upset her, like that they’re spared from living the rest of what is sure to be a hard life. But I can’t do it when I think about little Jayden. I wish he would get to experience teenage angst and broken hearts. What did he get that was positive?

  Batman and Robin.

  Fuck.

  I had pretty much convinced myself that I wasn’t going back there. Yeah, it was fun and the sex was smokin’ but I didn’t think Batty would be very appreciative of a one-night stand coming back to stalk him. Then my mind started turning to all of the other kids who were dying. All of the other ways to make those kids smile, despite their situations.

  Fine. I would go, and if he wasn’t there, I would stay.

  My phone vibrating in my pocket brought me back to the room. I ignore it and look to the doc. She’s observing me in that way that professionals do when they’re trying to diagnose you.

  “What was the question?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Never mind. Are you going to get your phone?”

  “Isn’t that rude?”

  She almost rolls her eyes. “When have you ever worried about being rude, Popper?”

  That’s true. What the hell’s wrong with me? I pull out my phone and look at the text.

  Doucher’s Sec: If your afternoon is free, Mr. Finnigan would love for you to come to his offices, Miss Dinah. 3 PM.”

  I hit delete and slide the phone back in my pocket. After going through my manager, then my publicist, and finally my cell phone, they realized I would never call them back, much less pick up the phone. As annoying as the texts were, the name I saved her number under always brought a smirk to my face.

  “Have you spoken with your boss?”

  Damn perceptive woman.

  “No.”

  “Your contract is coming up for renewal. The band is going to have to sit down soon to go over it. Are the other band members as reluctant as you are to go in?”

  I laugh humorlessly. “They’re too high to think for themselves. Their babysitters just tell them where they need to be.”

  “And your manager?”

  I glare. “He doesn’t boss me around if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “So you answer to no one?”

  I lean forward in my chair, my usual leather jacket creaking. “I’m twenty-one years old. I don�
��t answer to anyone.”

  “So you do whatever you want and damn the consequences?”

  “Exactly.”

  She flicks her fingers, looking so calm while I’m getting more heated by the second. “So you can go hit band members, audience members, paparazzi, and expect people to just deal with it?”

  I don’t like her tone, or her smug attitude so I stand and make my way to the door. “Time’s up,” I say right before I slam the door behind me.

  What a fucked week. I’ve dealt with my asshole band members, my annoying manager, and got reamed out by my publicist. The texts have been bumped up, coming from the douchebag’s secretary every other day now. I’m feeling suffocated, and the thought of going on tour for six months with four guys is enough to make me want to walk into the ocean. The waves aren’t even soothing to me anymore.

  The thought of more stress, more drama in my life, has me waiting until it’s almost too late to get to the hospital. Going without eye makeup makes me feel just as naked as last weekend, but the mask helps immensely.

  As I walk out of the elevator and run my hand over my ponytail, I hear the sharp snap of my heels echoing in the halls. I needed to feel a little more badass given the possibility of seeing Batty again.

  Alyse watches me walk down the hall, her eyes show a knowing look, but I have no idea what she thinks she knows. I hold out my ID between two fingers, ready to go this time.

  As I sign in on the volunteer’s sign-in sheet, I see a scribble on the line above, and the time written down. Glancing up at the clock I see whoever it was came in almost an hour ago. Giving up on trying to decipher the scrawl, I grab the hospital badge and clip it to the end of my shirt and stuff my driver’s license in the black hole that is my purse, knowing already that I’ll regret it later.

  As the double doors slide open, I walk purposefully past the Christmas lights held up with blue tape toward the crowd in the common room. Parents, nurses, and little patients are all around several Christmas trees that are getting decorated simultaneously.

  Batty is busy lifting a little boy to place the star at the top of a tree, his biceps bulging in his black shirt with yellow logo. My stomach clenches as I have a flashback of him pinning me down, powering into me. He sets the boy down with a little grin, immediately bringing his eyes to mine.

  “Robin. I wasn’t sure you could make it.” Fuck. That voice. I could probably come right here if he said a bad word in that rumble. I shift from one heel to the other and lick my lips.

  “Had to take care of a problem. What are we doing here?” I walk around to watch kids cutting out snowflakes from folded paper, the smaller ones gluing little strips of paper together in a chain.

  “We’re making it pretty for Christmas,” comes a little voice. My eyes track it to a little scarf covered head and big tired eyes. The man beside her looks almost as exhausted as what I assume is his daughter. He can barely keep his eyes open and has deep bags under his eyes.

  “You’re making it beautiful. What can I do to help?” As I’m sitting down, I catch Batty’s eyes tracking my movement. I tilt my head subtly to the dad and focus on the little girl. “What’s your name?”

  “Dana,” she says with a shy smile. I look around the other kids at the miniature table and get their names to make sure I don’t leave anyone out. I see Batty from the corner of my eye talking quietly with the dad for a few minutes. Finally they stand up.

  “Hey sweetie, I’m gonna take a little nap in your room okay?” he says, leaning over his daughter. She just nods happily, not even looking up from her glue and paper. I smile at the guy over his daughter’s head, knowing that I look like a decent human being for a change. He nods before walking off, looking back several times as he leaves the room.

  Three hours later, I’m the one exhausted. We’ve hung lights, paper chains, snowflakes, ornaments, and picture things that go on the windows. I’ve talked with all of the kids, most of the parents, but stayed close to Dana. Rachel from last week is nowhere I can see, which I take as a good thing. Jayden isn’t here either. I don’t think about that.

  Now I’m painting the fourth pair of little nails in a row. Something this easy sure does bring huge smiles. The Grinch is playing—a little early in my opinion— but the kids are absorbed and mostly quiet. A nurse goes around asking the girls if they want to get their nails done while Batty spends time with the little guys.

  “Rachel would love this,” the little one breathes in excitement. My hand jerks a little and I quickly pull the brush away.

  “Is she here?”

  The little girl nods sadly. “Yeah. She can’t come out because she’s super sick.”

  Is the word super necessary? Is that a little kid thing to exaggerate? Or is she super sick? I smile weakly and finish her nails. Five girls later, I’ve finished them all. I look around the room at frail little faces smiling and glancing at their hands, showing their friends as they whisper and take a deep breath. What is this feeling? I struggle with it, trying to figure out why my chest feels tight, too full, and my head is calm and relaxed. My eyes move to the TV as the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes.

  Ugh. Don’t be stupid.

  My eyes gravitate to the back of the crowd where Batty is talking to one of the older kids. I tilt my head to gesture down the hall and he does a chin lift, bringing me back to the last time he did that. Right after he fucked me then asked my name. Yeah. That’s not happening again.

  I quickly walk down the hall until I get to the door that I remember being Rachel’s and knock as gently as I can. I don’t hear anything so I open it a crack to see her sleeping, the rest of the room empty. I go to close the door again, but I notice a doll with a crown on the floor by her bed and Rachel’s hand extended through the railing toward it.

  I tiptoe so that my heels don’t make too much noise, and take my eyes off of the little girl to get the doll. As soon as I look down I feel a little hand on the top of my head. It scares the shit out of me, and I look up quickly, causing her hand to slide to the ponytail that’s slipped over my shoulder.

  “Your hair’s so pretty,” she rasps weakly behind an oxygen mask.

  “What color was your hair?” I ask, bringing her doll back onto the bed, making sure to tuck it under the blanket.

  “Purple?” she asks on a little giggle. It makes me smile, so I pull up a chair.

  “Green?” I ask.

  “Pink! I always wanted pink hair. Mommy said I wasn’t old enough yet.” Her smile dims a little bit.

  “They at church?”

  She nods. “They spend a lot of time there.”

  I wonder if her parents are really at church. For all I know, they’ve been telling her that and going out to eat, living their lives, while their child slowly dies. That full feeling in my chest begins to burn.

  I reach for my purse and hold up three different colors of nail polish. She smiles. A dimple pops out that hasn’t been there before. She points to the purple glitter, and I set the other two back and get to work.

  “If you could do anything in the world, what would it be, Rachel?” I ask while I begin to paint her nails.

  “Like to go someplace?”

  I glance up at her. “If you could do anything—go ice skating, eat a cheeseburger, ride a rollercoaster—what would it be?”

  Her eyes look away from me to stare at the wall, lost in her thoughts. “I would have a tea party. With little cakes and tea in a pot like on Beauty and the Beast. But my mouth hurts, my tummy too. So I can’t eat anything.”

  “Do you know what the best thing to eat is?” I ask, leaning forward to get close to her. She shakes her head.

  “When I imagine something that I can’t have, like truffles from Paris or Tiramisu from Italy, I close my eyes and pretend.” I smile, and oh so slowly get a smile back. “Do you want to pretend with me, doll?”

  She nods with more conviction and finally has a little color in her pale cheeks. I stand and grab my purse. “I’ll be back. I have to go
get some stuff, but seriously, I’m hurrying. You wait here and take a nap so we can be ladies when I get back okay?”

  Rachel covers her mouth, but I can still hear the giggles as I exit the room. It makes me walk faster, turning a corner while I dig for my keys. I almost go down when I collide with a cement freaking wall. Otherwise known as Batty.

  I put a hand to my jaw, rotating it cautiously. “It’s a good thing my head was turned. I could have a broken nose right now.”

  “Where are you going?” he rumbles with his arms crossed, so I cross mine too.

  “Well, Daddy.” He takes a threatening step closer to me, but I power through. “I’m going to get something for Rachel. Will you be available in an hour and a half? I’m going to need you for an event.”

  “Don’t call me that unless you want to be taken over my knee, little girl.” It really should be humiliating that he’s in my face, threatening me in a Batman mask. Why the hell isn’t it? Why is it so fucking hot?

  I look up at him through my lashes and whisper, “Do you want to spank me?”

  His grey eyes are the color of gunmetal. When did he get so close? We stare at each other, both unmoving as nurses and doctors pass us in the hall. “How old are you, Sadie?”

  I smirk and take a step back, telling myself I’m not retreating. “It’s a little late to be worried if I’m legal, Batty.” His eyes are questioning, but he doesn’t ask about the name.

  “You don’t care how old I am?”

  “Are you old enough to be my daddy?”

  “Do you have daddy issues?”

  I laugh out loud, the sound almost making me jump it’s so rusty. “I have issues. Period.” I watch him, trying to recall how old he looked the other night, but really I wasn’t looking for crow’s feet and grey hair in the moonlight. “I need to go.”

  He does that damn chin lift and turns, walking back the way he came. I head to the front desk, telling Alyse that I will be back.