Free Brawler by K.S. Adkins Page A

by it.
    The beat picks back up and they finish it by thrashing their heads and whipping their hair, but I’m focused on her. She looks happy. She looks fucking beautiful. She finishes with “I don’t care, I love it!” and they both stop to catch their breath, still not alert to our presence.
    For a moment, Macy looks lost in thought, then appears to have made an important decision while she starts to move furniture. She looks at Venessa and says what’s on her mind. Watching those two strike a deal and seeing how they manage to work together so easily reminds me of me and Rogan.
    If I had a mirror, no doubt I’d see myself smiling ear to ear. You can’t hear anyone say pop music is for pussies and new moms and keep quiet. Well, maybe you can, but I ain’t built like that. I know I’m right when he looks at Venessa and can’t wipe the smile off his face, either.
    When Rogan pipes up with his one-liner, I chime in with mine. It’s fucking hilarious. Both women whip around and freeze, and it’s all I could do not to keel over, I want to laugh so hard. Fuck me, but the looks on their faces? Busted.
    Venessa shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Macy … She stands there unsure of what to do next, so I smile at her, hoping she’ll give me a chance to explain. Moving around the couch, she walks right up to me and does what only Macy can do. Jumping into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck, legs around my middle, and smiling, she fixes me, right then and there.
    “Take me home?”
    “That’s why I’m here.”
    “Are you still mad at me?”
    “I was never mad at you, I was mad at me. I owe you an apology and I’d like to deliver it in your privates.”
    When Rogan and Venessa choke back a laugh it dawns on me what I said. If Macy caught it, she acts like it doesn’t matter, so I go with it.
    “Bye, V; bye, Rogan. Thanks for letting me dance party.”
    We don’t even stick around; she takes my hand tightly in hers and we leave the way we came. If either of them says anything, we don’t hear it. But if I know anything, both of them are laughing at me; someone always is.
    But not her, never her.
     
     

 

    H e came for me. He came for me . I don’t care why he did it, just that he did. Maybe he missed me, too? You know what? It doesn’t even matter. I’m here next to him and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
    Suddenly shy, I decided to hold back saying or doing anything until we get home.
    I don’t even bother with looking out the window. I focus on our hands clasped together finding security where I’ve never known security before.
    His hands are big, rough, and scarred, whereas mine are long, thin, and unblemished. He has strong hands. Hands that protect. Kind of like the rest of him. He’s big, rough, and scarred, too. I just don’t know why.
    Pulling into the driveway, I wait. He helps me down and then takes me by surprise when he lifts me up by my waist.
    “Wrap those long legs around me again.”
    “You’re going to carry me? Up all of those steps?”
    “Every last step. Including the seven that lead to our bed.”
    At this, I’m struck speechless.
    He’s going to carry me? All the way from here, to “our” bed? I’ve never even seen “our bed.” But right there in his driveway he kisses me so hard I forgot all about our bed and couldn’t care less if we ever made it there. I was happy right where I was.
    “Princess, you have to stop, or we’ll never make it.”
    “Don’t care.”
    “Fuck.”
    He stumbles up the front stoop; he even somehow manages to get his keys in the door while I’m attacking his neck with my mouth. Hearing him groan spurs me on so I reach down and hold onto his ass with both hands. We make it through the door, barely, when he backs me up against it and takes his right hand and buries it in soaking wet pussy.
    “Jesus,” he says while he works me over. It’s too much, yet it’s not enough.
    “Harder,” I demand while he rubs and explores. He