Flock (The Ravenhood)

Sean: Thinking of you.

What are you thinking?

Sean: All kinds of thoughts.

Care to get specific?

Sean: You’re beautiful and completely unaware of just how much. And you taste so fucking good.

What are you doing to me?

Sean: Not nearly enough. Come to the garage.

I’ll be there in an hour.

It’s been days since the waterfall and he’s barely touched me intimately since. He’s wrapped up in me constantly when we’re around the guys but leaves me every night with a chaste kiss, his mixed signals driving me up the wall. It’s as if he’s waiting for…something I can’t put my finger on. But instead of complaining about it, I’ve played along because, honestly, I’m enjoying the ache and anticipation. I’ve never been much of a fast girl, but my attraction to him makes my inhibitions hard to hold. The boys of my past have nothing on this man. Nothing. And these days, when I look at my reflection, I see the noticeable afterglow of the weeks spent draped in his attention. It’s a high I’d almost forgotten about, a high that’s more addictive to me than any drug could ever be. My heart has some scar tissue, but it beats steady, constantly letting me know that playing his game leaves it vulnerable, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear the warning. For now, I’m playing blissfully ignorant, all too ready for another hit.

“Can you put the phone down while we dine?”

I tense in my seat, feeling Roman’s stare and shove my phone into my pocket before lifting my fork.

“Sorry, Sir.”

“You are clearly distracted this evening.”

Because I’d much rather be in the now with Sean. I don’t know why Roman insists we dine together. Conversation is forced, our shared meals unbearably uncomfortable, at least for me. It’s hard to gauge what makes Roman uneasy because the man is impenetrable stone. He’s always annoyed, but that seems to be his only discernable emotion—if he’s even capable of emotion. The longer I’m in his house, the more like a stranger he feels to me.

“What were your parents like?”

I’ve never asked about them before. Not even when I was younger. Even when I had my youth to fall back on for false bravery, I knew better than to ask. They were both deceased, that’s the extent of what both Mom and I know.

Roman draws a perfect bite of pasta onto his fork. “What specifically do you want to know?”

“Were they as outgoing as you?”

His jaw clenches and I congratulate myself but steady my features.

“They were socialites, and my father kept regular attendance at the golf course.”

“How did they die?”

“They drank.”

“Poison? They go out in a Shakespearean way?”

“You find death amusing?”

“No, Sir.” I find this conversation amusing.

“They died not far apart. Three years. They had me when they were in their forties.”

“You got a jump on them in that sense, huh?”

My mother was twenty when she had me, and Roman was older by twelve years. He’d dipped into the honeypot.

“I never planned for children.”

I give him jazz hands. “Surprise. It’s a girl.”

Not even a twitch of a smile.

“Tough room,” I sip my water. “Sorry about the diapers, couldn’t be helped.” I’m positive the man never changed one of my diapers. Not one.

“Cecelia, do you plan on behaving this way all night?”

“One can only hope.” That you don’t destroy my soul with your death glare.

“So, no parents, no girlfriends. Do you have a friend to hang out with?”

“I have associates. Plenty of them.”

“So, what does Roman do to let his hair down?”

Another side-eye. I’m getting nowhere.

“Dinner was delicious, but I do have some pressing plans tonight. May I please be excused?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

As I flee the dining room, I swear I hear him echo my sigh of relief.

A little over an hour later, I enter the garage, and Tyler’s dimple greets me first. His eyes roam over me as I delight in his attention. I took special care tonight, soaking my body in lotion mixed with juniper essential oil. I styled my hair in beach waves and bronzed my skin so it shimmers, even in the muddled yellow lamps above. I went light with my makeup, so the freckles Sean told me he loves, shine through. But my lips I colored hot pink to match my new sundress.

“Damn, girl, you’re smoking,” Tyler says, greeting me with a warm half hug as Sean converses with Dominic on the far side of the garage away from everyone else. Even with the purposeful distance, their aggressive voices are muffled as Steve Miller croons out, “The Joker.” The conversation looks tense, so I decide to leave them to it. Jeremy greets me next with the lift of his chin and an appreciative sweep of his eyes as he takes his shot at the table. Jeremy is shorter in stature, but I can tell his second home is the gym. He’s bulky, solid muscle beneath his simple clothes, but he wears them well. He’s got the trendy man beard thing going on and sports suspenders over his T-shirt. His brown hair is cropped shorter, unlike Sean’s, who’s got that struck by God’s lightning hair.

“Up for a game, Cee?” Jeremy drawls before he taps the nine-ball in.

“You mean another ass whooping?” I ask as my eyes roam from his raven tattoo to the black beanie hanging from his back pocket. Even though the temperature cools considerably after sundown, it seems out of place for the start of summer.

“You planning on robbing someone tonight, Jeremy?”

He pauses and then resumes chalking his cue before shoving the beanie deeper into his pocket. “Already did.”

“Oh yeah?”

He winks, and Tyler chuckles. “The only thing you robbed tonight is your mom’s dresser.”

Jeremy glares at Tyler. “Are we doing your momma tonight? Because I think we know how that ends. And for me, it’s always a happy ending.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tyler snaps. Russell, who I consider the second mute next to Dominic, grabs a stick and chalks it. “Tyler, you know no one can do your momma quite like Jeremy can.”

I look to Tyler, who seriously looks pissed. “Is there really a story there?”

“No,” Tyler snaps, more toward the others than to me. “They’re just fucking with me.”

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep tonight, son,” Jeremy smirks and turns to me. “He’s a Momma’s boy. But I think we need some more quality time to remedy that. Daddy knows best.”

Grinning at their back and forth, I look up to see Dominic watching me as Sean talks a mile a minute. A spark runs through me at his scrutiny. We haven’t spoken since the night he let me into the garage. Every time I get close enough, he shuts me down, blatantly ignoring me as if I’m not speaking directly to him. Sean tells me not to take it personally, but with his constant shunning, and the looks he gives me, it grates at me. I shift my attention to Sean, despite the awareness of Dominic’s stare and study him, remembering the feel of his kiss, the look in his eyes, the way he’d consumed me with his mouth, with the promise of more. And that’s what I see when he finally turns in my direction. His hazel gaze travels appreciatively down my body before a faint smile graces his lips.

Shivers run down my spine when he looks at me this way. It’s as if we know what’s coming, and we aren’t the only ones aware of it.

“You two need a moment alone?” Russell snarks snidely, catching our latest exchange before lining up his cue to the ball and taking his shot.

“Here’s an idea, shut the fuck up,” Sean says easily, just as he reaches me, pulling me to him. The man has confidence in spades, a smile that could melt the panties off a nun, and eyes that convey everything without him speaking a word. Every day I become more drawn to him, and every day I feel the tie that’s beginning to bind us. Actions over words, that’s what I’m taking with a grain of salt over Sean’s cautious words on my birthday.

“Missed you,” he holds me to him tightly as I bask in his arms, my eyes meeting Dominic’s behind his shoulder before he pushes out the back door of the garage without a word.

“Why does he hate me?”

“Ignore him.”

“Kind of hard to.”

“He’s good at that,” he says, softly pressing a brief kiss to my bare shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he leans in and inhales, damn near drawing a moan from me. “Smell good too.”

I turn my head so our lips are close. “Thank you.”

“This for me?” His knuckles run up the side of my dress, and the ache starts at my core with the memory of rocks digging into my back, cascading water, and his wicked mouth. He reads my thoughts, his eyes flaring, and this time I’m the one who’s brandishing the canary-eating smile.

“Maybe.”

“Trouble,” he murmurs. I bite my lip and I swear I hear a faint groan.

“We playin’ or what?” Russell snaps us out of our intimate bubble. Sean rolls his eyes as we break apart and he fishes two beers out of a nearby cooler. I accept one, knowing I’m not going to drink much of it. The minute he cracks his beer, and the music gets turned up, I grab my stick and the games commence.

And I’m horrible. Despite my best efforts, my depth perception is off, way off to the point it’s embarrassing. And the guys have no issue razzing me about it. After scratching my way into another loss to Jeremy, I push my lip out and head for a seat on the couch, instead opting for Sean’s lap. He allows it, running a welcome hand down my back.

“I suck.”

“You do,” he agrees.

I grind my elbow into his side.

“Easy now. It takes practice,” Sean murmurs as I lean back into the stroke of his hand. The rhythmic feel of his fingers lulls me into a state of want as I watch him crack up with his friends. After another few games or so, I’m completely absorbed, in his smell, his hands, the timber of his voice, the feel of him. Everything about Sean turns me on, not just the way he looks but also the workings of his mind. It’s a draw that has me dizzy, aroused continuously, and enraptured in a way I’m not used to. Sean, in a way, is a new drug. More potent. More addictive and altogether just…more.

He turns to me, seeming to read my thoughts and his grin widens. “Something on your mind, Pup?” He’s well aware of exactly what I’m thinking, but I don’t play into it.

“I’m… Will you teach me how to drive?”

“You know how to drive.”

“No, like you drive.”

My eyes rake his face and lower. And we share a second or two, lost in those seconds in that cave. I know he’s there. His body draws tight as I lean into him.

“Please?”

Wordless, he stands, holding me to him as he nods at Tyler. “We’re going to take off.”

Grinning, I wave goodbye at the guys before following him out of the garage and into the parking lot. He pulls his keys from his pocket and tosses them to me, I catch them easily, as a thrill runs through me.

“You’re really going to let me drive?” I eye his prized possession.

“Let’s see what you got.”

Amped, I slide into his car, loving the feel of the wheel at my fingertips.

Sean glides in next to me. “Know how to drive a stick?”

I nod. “My mom had one. I learned on it.”

I check the car is in neutral and turn the engine over, giving it a chance to warm up.

In my sundress, I appreciate the cool feel of the bench seat beneath the material on my thighs.

“How did you guys manage to find all these classics?” I glance around the cabin in awe of the state of it. It’s been perfectly restored.

“They were all in my family, my uncle collected them, and when he died, we restored them. That’s how we all got started fixing cars.”

“They’re so rare. Aren’t you guys ever afraid to wreck them?”

“What’s the point of having something if you don’t use it?”

“Good point,” I say, securing the ancient seatbelt around my waist and run my finger over the SS on the wheel. Doubt creeps in and he drowns it out, his reassurance falling easy from his lips. He’s not nervous, which makes me less so.

“It’s just a car. Easy on the turns, these weren’t made for mountain roads.”

“That’s true, so why do you drive them?”

A flash of teeth. “Because we fucking can.”

I shake my head at the pride in his eyes.

“You’re such a man.”

“Thank you. Now, you’ll get used to the give on the wheel, but take your time in figuring it out.”

I nod, studying the gear shift and frowning. “This isn’t like the one I learned on.”

“Take it slow,” he says, running a finger over the hand I have on the shift, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

I grin over at him, and my breath gets stolen by his expression, the thump in my chest a sign of growing invitation. The cabin fills with tension, the good kind, as he rests comfortably on his side of the car.

“Ready?”

“So fucking ready,” he murmurs, before pulling his hand away.

Within a few grinding seconds of the clutch and a wince on my part, we’re off.

Sean guides me through the first few minutes, his voice gentle and assuring as he helps me navigate my way through the winding roads. Once we’re safely away from sharp turns, I give it some gas, and he gives me a few more pointers, while I memorize the clutch pattern.

“You’ve got it.”

“Not quite.”

“No,” he says, running a hand down my shoulder. “You’ve got it. Open it up.” I shiver under his touch and glance over at him catching his wink in the dim cabin.

Music thrums low through the speakers and Sean lifts from where he sits, turning the dial on the dash. “Good one,” is all he says as he cuts all communication letting me know the lesson is over and I’m on my own.

The Black Crowes begin to bellow, “She Talks to Angels,” as I’m granted my freedom, and I take it, anxious for the high. Between the music and steady buzz of the car, my whole body erupts in goosebumps. I can feel the smile on my face as the wind whips through my hair.

We’re flying, my heart soaring as I switch gears, surprising myself with the ease in the transition before I hammer the gas.

Sean doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move next to me, his trust mine as I begin to sing along with the lyrics, with him. I’m somewhere between screaming and singing when his fingers push away the thick hair at the nape of my neck and stroke down my arm. Senses heightened, my body sighs into his caress. He covers my neck, my arm, and slides his hand down to where his hand covers mine on the gearshift before drifting back up, and then he strokes my chin with his knuckle. My pulse skips when he slides the spaghetti strap of my sundress down, his fingertips ghosting over my skin.

My lips part at the touch, as I begin to slow and peek over at him. One second passes, then another, before I’m turning onto one of a dozen deserted roads and shoving the gear into neutral and pulling the brake. We sit there, feet apart, his fingers stroking, coaxing me into a frenzy as I wait.

“Look at you,” his voice needy and urgent.

“Sean,” I moan hoarsely, already soaked as his fingers draw me further under his spell.

Hesitation coils off him, and I can clearly feel it as he toys with me, leaving me wanton and on the verge of snapping.

The tension builds along with the heartbeat at my core as my eyes implore him to do precisely what he’s thinking. I see the decision in his eyes a second before he says, “Fuck it.” In the next, I’m in his arms for a breath before we collide. His kiss is anything but gentle as he pushes his tongue past my lips and wholly explores my mouth with deep thrusts. It’s as if every look, every touch, every subtle exchange has led us up to this moment. Rightfully starved, I allow my hands to roam, gripping the T-shirt at his biceps as he pulls me flush to him, and I lift my leg and straddle him, wanting to get closer, the rush of adrenaline clashing with insatiable need. We kiss and kiss, alone in the car on a nameless road, hearts hammering, our fast breaths mingling as he hikes my dress up to my hip and I grind on his lap, licking into his mouth, tracing his piercing with my tongue.

“Fuck,” he grits out on a breath between kisses. He flicks the other spaghetti strap of my dress down a second before he yanks the material freeing my breasts, my pebbled nipples drawing tight, the ache unrelenting. He cups each in his calloused hands, his kiss deepening to level insane as my clit pulses, begging. I grip his hand and move it to my thigh beneath my skirt and feel only a second’s worth of hesitation before he knuckles the silk and lace fabric between. He dips into the elastic, shoving my panties to the side and I gasp into his mouth as he roughly shoves two fingers inside me. My moan fuels him as he twists his fingers, fucking me roughly with them.

“Sean,” I gasp out, hooking my arm around his neck to ride his hand. Reaching down, I palm and squeeze his erection and feel his groan as he pushes me back against the dash, ripping my arm from around him. He rests me on his knees as I set my elbows on the dash, just watching him. Dress still hoisted around my hips, he grips the flimsy triangle of material between my thighs and rips the crotch away. Eager, I move in to release him, but he swats my hand, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock before pumping it in his fist. My mouth waters at the sight of it, the sight of him coming undone.

He lifts, pulling out his wallet and plucking a condom from it before he hands it to me. I rip it open and grip his silky skin in my hand, pumping him from base to oozing tip before I roll the latex onto him. Once fitted, he runs a finger between my folds, playing with the gathered wetness at my core. A cool breeze drifts through the car as he grips my head with his palm and pulls me in for a kiss, a second before pushing me onto my back, twisting to settle between my legs and driving into me until he’s buried. I quake at the feel of him as he thrusts into me mercilessly. The slapping sound fueling me, I lift my hips to meet his. He grips my hair with his fist as he drives into me and I moan at the sting and the reward of his fucking. Lifting his T-shirt, I run my hands over his muscled chest as he gazes down at me, his eyes lava, his heart pounding against my palm.

“Damn…you…” he grunts, picking up his pace, “you are so much trouble.”

Filled to the brink, I fumble to get his shirt off and he discards it with ease. Free to roam, I take in every detail, the timber of his grunts, the feel of his skin, every nuance of his build and lock my legs around him, meeting his hips before tossing my head back. He’s deep, so deep. I can only hold onto him and allow myself to be ravaged. He consumes me wholly, with his scent, his face, his body, his cock. He pushes my crooked thigh against the seat, diving deeper and I scream his name as he goes feral, his hips picking up at an unimaginable pace as he burns through me.

I blink and his hand dips between us, his fingers kneading my clit as he pounds his cock along my walls, lifting and angling himself just so. The orgasm sneaks up and I explode, the entirety of my body shuddering with release as he drives in once, twice and comes, his jaw slack, eyes firing emerald in the soft light of the cabin. I run my fingers along his biceps as he gazes down at me, wordless. His golden smile returns before he covers me in a soft kiss, his fingers loosening their grip on my hair and I’m lifted from the seat by the sweep of his arm and brought to his chest.

“That escalated quickly,” he says with a chuckle.

“Mmhmm,” I murmur, hearing the fatigue in my voice.

“We have a problem,” he mumbles into my neck, as I massage his sweat slickened shoulders.

“What’s that?” I ask, unbelieving I let it, no, willed it to go that far.

He lifts his head, peering up at me where I gather myself in his lap. “I only had that one condom.”

“We have all the time in the world, right?” He nods into my shoulder, a haunted hint shadowing his eyes when they meet mine.

“Right.”

“What’s wrong?” His gaze clears and he shakes his head, his shoulders going lax.

“Nothing,” he strokes my skin, cupping my breasts, “nothing at all,” he repeats, before claiming my mouth possessively. In his claiming kiss, I get lost.