28. Nobody’s Possession

TWENTY-EIGHT

NOBODY’S POSSESSION

Peer Pressure, James Bay Ft. Mia Michaels

Roe

A week has passed since the whole “I don’t want to taint your light” conversation. Saint is still not taking the hint that I’m broken beyond repair. I know that he’s a fixer by nature and by trade. Getting to know more about his job, his life growing up with a sick sibling, and the way he feels like the world is being carried on his shoulders has taught him that he can carry it all and that it’s his job to do it.

He’s currently working on my Jeep now that the parts have come in, while I sit here and basically stare at him. I’m sitting on top of the tool cabinet, kicking my feet and drawing on my iPad.

“Wanna go to a birthday party with me tomorrow?” he asks, while tinkering with the Jeep.

“I can’t. I have work. I have an appointment for a pretty large tattoo for Jake tomorrow and then I’ll be at Saddlers,” I reply, showing him the owl I’m supposed to be tattooing on our friend tomorrow.

“How’s Jake, by the way? But I think the party is at Saddlers, actually.”

“Jake seems happier lately. Rumor on the street is that he has a girl living in his house but nobody really knows much,” I say, hopping down from the tool cabinet and pretending I want to inspect what he’s doing. He gives me a side-eye and nods toward the spot where I was sitting. I roll my eyes and lean in further. “Is it Nick’s party?”

“Yeah, Jake actually told me I should go so I can meet the group of friends,” he says, grabbing a towel, wiping his hands and walking toward a fridge on the side of the shop.

Baker Auto is our mom-and-pop auto shop and they do more than just fix things. I don’t know how I would survive without Jake or his dad working on Lola. Jake’s our town golden boy and high school coach, but he manages the shop in his free time around the school calendar. He’s a nice guy and a good friend, but there was some drama with his high school ex a long, long time ago, and then some other drama with another ex, not too long ago, and sometimes I feel like he likes to keep to himself to avoid making it worse.

He brings me a bottle of water, opening his and taking a sip before adding, “I wasn’t gonna go but I’m tired of only hanging out with two people in this town. I need to get out more.”

“I would be tired of hanging out with two people too if one of them was your annoying roommate,” I snap, swiping the pen over the screen.

“What’s the deal with you two?” Saint asks.

“There’s no deal. He’s been acting like I have the plague or something.”

“Interesting. Regardless,” Saint says, “I wasn’t even counting him in the two people. I meant the only two people I know are you and Jake.”

“Am I not enough for you, Saint?” I ask, wiggling my brows.

“You are, princesa, but I need to make friends. I’m not really a loner,” he adds.

“Shocking. You had me fooled.”

“Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t like people. I’m pretty sure you hate people and you’re the opposite of quiet,” he adds, and when I look at him with intent to kill, he chuckles. “Joking, joking.”

He walks back to the Jeep, hands me the keys and says, “Start it for me, would you?”

I hop in, do as he says, and Lola turns on like a champ. I tap the steering wheel, laying my head on the cold leather, and let out a breath. “I’ve missed you, girl,” I whisper, but clearly not low enough because Saint smirks at me.

“Are you done falling in love with the Jeep?”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t already love her,” I tell him, putting my glasses on and putting it in drive. “Come on, Saint. Let’s go for a ride.”

“I’m not done with work,” he replies, but it’s not lost on me that he’s walking around to the passenger seat.

“Live a little. Stop being so good all the time,” I reply.

He climbs up on the front seat, filling the space with his ocean scent and my brain with doubts on whether I deserve to spend time with him, knowing how good he is and how fucked up I am.

Apparently, calling him out on being good all the time was what he needed to let loose and break some rules. He called Jake and told him he finished early today and that he would be back tomorrow. He also called Marco and told him to pack the bikes and meet us at SMX’s back trail for some evening riding. I hope Marco stops acting like a total weirdo so we can all actually have a good time. We get my bike and gear up. I’m ready to try a challenge with new riders. Again, I’m the only girl, but I’m ready to show them that I ride like them or better.

“What’s taking you guys so long?” I ask, impatiently waiting while fully geared up so Allen doesn’t have a coronary next to my bike. We have an hour of riding before we get kicked out since you’re not allowed to ride after dark at SMX.

“What? Can’t wait to see our tails while we leave you behind, Roe?” Marco asks and I swear I want to punch him straight in the face. He gives me weird vibes and I’ve never been able to pinpoint why. The fact that he’s friends with Saint surprises me too because they’re nothing alike. Even at Saddlers, he acts like he’s above it all and we’re all mere mortals next to him, especially the girl bartenders.

I catch Saint looking at me and he stops me with a slight shake of his head. The fact that this man knows that I was about to go crazy on his friend makes me want to shiver. He knows you, Roe . You let him in . His eyes darken under his visor and when he faces forward and nods toward the trail, I know what he wants me to do and it’s what I should do too. Focus on what I came here for.

“Marco, watch it,” Saint says but Marco waves him off, turning to talk to some of the other riders that joined.

We called Allen on the way here and asked him to hide sixteen flags for us to find. We are splitting into three teams and meeting back here in an hour. Whoever collects the most flags wins. I wish I knew all these people’s names but my lack of interest in making friends betrays me. I know Joey, the guy from the bachelor party and the night I met Saint. Marco is here, unfortunately. Saint, and some other people. I think one of them might be Gus, but I could be wrong. All men but me. Bring it.

Marco catches Saint looking at me and frowns, scowling before saying, “Alright, let’s do this.” Allen also left a number written under a rock. We’ll say numbers and whoever’s closest gets to pick their teammate first.

We all pick our numbers, say them out loud, and wait for someone to lift the rock. Joey lifts the rock and reads off the number eight, which means Saint is picking first because his number was seven.

“I pick Roe,” Saint says without hesitation.

“Are you sure, man?” Marco asks, side eyeing me before adding, “You’re picking this girl first?”

Saint looks like he’s going to ignore him but then he stands in front of him and growls, “What is your fucking issue? Her name is Roe, not this girl, show some respect.”

Marco puts his hands up and says, “Easy, easy. It’s your team either way, do whatever you want.”

“Are we going to ride or are we in a macho match?” one of the guys asks.

Saint walks away toward his bike and says, “Let’s go, Roe, we have a game to win.”

“Wait, asshole, we’re all leaving at the same time,” Marco says, and we wait for everyone to pick teams and line up on our bikes.

Kickstarting these beasts is always a little impressive. You can hear the thump of the compression, like a loud bang as the ignition sparks, and see the sand fly off the back tire with the twist of the throttle. We stop, look at each other, and with Saint’s nod, we all twist our throttles. The revving gets louder. My focus goes to the task at hand like in-race, even if we’re just playing. Every second on the bike is like that for me, and with the second twist, my elbows go up and my head tucks down. With the final rev, we take off and head to the trails.

I take the lead since I know these trails better than Saint and after an immediate left, we find the first flag. I signal to it and stop, letting Saint run to grab it. He twists the fabric off the stick it was on, zip ties it to his bike and we continue.

Thirty minutes later and we’ve found six flags but we’re running out of places to look for more. I take the back trail that leads to a smaller section, not known to a lot of riders because of how tricky it is to maneuver through the trees and branches, twisting and turning with the path until it opens up. I slide my ass off the seat to balance on my bike by standing on the pegs. I’m able to move swiftly with the bike this way, waltzing and following its lead while holding on strong to the handlebars. Saint follows close behind, keeping up with my tempo.

I have to lower my head in certain sections to avoid branches, but eventually we make out into the clearing I was looking for. Big pine trees mark the way to an opening at the top of a small hill. From the top, you can see the St. Mary’s River and a small area by the riverbank. The thick bushes surrounding the ending of the trail before the river could be a great place to hide more flags, so I follow the trail all the way down.

I stop my bike on the riverbank, turn it off, and put my foot down, holding the weight of the bike while looking around. I sip water from my Camelback and take my helmet off, hanging it from the handlebars. Saint follows suit and just stands there, straddling his bike and taking it all in. His eyes are closed, his dust-covered eyelashes kissing the top of his cheeks and the soft breeze blowing through his hair. It’s a picture-perfect moment.

He catches me staring, his eyes fixed on mine but he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he lifts his hand and motions for me to come to him. I get off my bike, pressing the kickstand down, and walk to him. I stand next to him, my elbow on his handlebars and my eyes on him. I ’ m not backing out, Saint.

“You like the view?” I ask, with a smirk on my face.

“I always do, you know that,” he nudges me and opens his hand. When I place mine in his, he pulls me closer to him. The space between us is suddenly gone and the breeze ceases to exist, leaving both of us desperate for air.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I add to try to diffuse the tension and lower the desire that is clearly here.

“I don’t need a picture, princesa.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear and keeps his hand on my cheek. “I already think about you all the damn time; you’re completely imprinted on my skin, like one of these tattoos your hands make magic with. Then you have to go and be an incredible rider too, which just adds to the whole package. Yeah, Roe, I don’t need a picture.” His finger traces my jaw and stops under my lip.

I catch my breath after his words leave me speechless. My lips part slightly and when his eyes look at my lips, I whisper, “Saint.”

“You’re committed to memory and I’m done fighting this.”

With those words, he pulls me to him and his lips crash into mine. One hand is on my neck and the other on my lower back, sparking a fire within me that only his touch can ignite. This kiss is not careful but it’s not rushed either. It has intention and purpose. With every nip and swipe of his tongue, he lets me know how much he’s been wanting this. A small moan escapes my lips and he swallows it, deepening the kiss.

My hands roam his torso, thinking to myself how lucky I am he didn’t wear his chest protector so I can touch his body freely, but the damn bike is in the way. I push him back so he sits on the tail of the bike, while I swing my leg over and straddle it. I bring my gaze to his chest, going up and down rapidly as I touch his stomach freely. Now that there’s nothing between us, my hands roam and explore, reaching up to his chest. He hisses and brings his hands to my face, holding me tightly and breaking the kiss. His forehead touches mine, eyes closed, and he brushes his nose against mine.

“Roe,” he breathes, my name a whisper on his lips.

“I thought you were done fighting this,” I say, pulling him closer by his jersey and biting his neck. “Are you going to let me corrupt you a little, Saint?” I add, while I wrap my legs around his hips. He has no choice but to scoot forward, keeping me flushed to him.

He closes his eyes and whispers in my ear, “Be careful what you wish for, Roe.”

At those words, I lick his neck just above his collarbone. You would think his skin would be rough from the sand on the trail but it’s perfectly smooth and salty from sweat. My insides tingle at the taste, making me go for it harder. I bite and suck at his skin. If he’s not going to break on his own accord, I will try my hardest to make it happen with my tongue.

He brings my face up, keeping his fingers under my chin. “You’re playing with fire, princesa,” he hisses, his eyes roaming my face.

I can see his control about to snap and because I’m no fucking angel, I say, “I don’t mind getting burned.”

His mouth crashes to mine again. My words did their job; his control is gone and I’m finally getting the real Saint. His tongue invades my mouth, swiping and teasing my own. His hands that were once gentle are firm against my hips, pulling me so close his hard dick is pressing against me. It’s giving me the most delicious friction, even over our gear.

With each taste, lick, and swipe of his tongue, my body becomes more and more alive. Reminding me of everything he did to my body on the tattoo chair, in the tent, and back to our first kiss at the bar. I’ve tried to fight this pull. I’ve tried to fight this lust and the need to be with him. To have his hands on me and his lips on mine. I’ve never needed anything or anyone in my life, but my body is craving Saint’s. Everything I’ve imagined when I’m alone trying to find release has to deal with him now, and even then, I can’t make it. He’s taking over my senses; as if without him, I don’t know what pleasure is anymore.

The way his mouth moves against mine, and how his hands touch my body has me spiraling out of control. He’s cupping my breasts, pinching my sensitive skin, and if he keeps this up, I will come undone by this moment alone.

“You like to play with fire, princesa? You want to see what your beautiful body can do to me? Then show me.” He unbuckles my pants as he pushes me down onto the handlebars. “Better yet, watch what I can do to you.”

He traces the line of my panties with his thumb. I place my feet on either side of him, lifting as much as the position will let me, and he gets to work. He removes each boot and the pants, Leaving me in nothing but my jersey, full of desire.

“Open up for me, princesa,” he says and at his command, I drop my knees open, allowing him to see all of me. He’s not touching me with his hands but the way his eyes darken ignites more of me than anybody ever could with a single touch. He traces his index finger over my slit, opening me more to him. I twist my hips in a circle, trying to get more contact.

“Now, now, now, mu?eca, let’s not be impatient.”

I drop my head back and close my eyes as he slides his finger lower, closer to my entrance. I bring my hands up, under my jersey and cup my breasts.

“Si, princesa, tocate así, pero mirame,” he says, and I don’t really understand what it means until he explains, “Eyes on me, Roe. Touch yourself just like that but your eyes stay on me.”

Lost-in-the-moment Santiago might be my favorite, so I obey and train my eyes on him. His finger circles my entrance, and I know I must be dripping because he meets no resistance pushing in and driving me wild.

His touch is deliberate; he’s giving me just enough to writhe beneath him, but not enough to let me come. I feel shivers down my spine and the hunger that has been fighting its way out is here, ready to be fed.

He adds another finger and I lift my hips to meet him. He uses his other hand to hold me on the bike, his rough palm pressing against the tender skin under my belly button. He removes his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Fuck, Roe. For someone who’s so feisty all the time, you sure as hell taste sweet.” I’m sure my eyes darken by the sigh he makes. He smirks before asking, “What? You don’t believe me?”

“I call bullshit,” I say, but instead of sounding sure, my voice comes out breathy. Desperate.

“No, princesa, I’m the one calling bullshit.” He brings his fingers back to my entrance, pushing inside in one quick motion and twirling his fingers before pulling them back out. He brings them close to his nose and smells them, closing his eyes and humming. This time he doesn’t clean his fingers but instead hovers them close to my mouth and says, “Taste how sweet you are. Suck, Roe, like the good fucking girl you are.”

I part my lips and let him slide his fingers in. I swirl my tongue around them, never dropping his eyes. Because if he wants to play with fire, then welcome to hell, my Saint.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asks, his breath catching the minute my tongue touched his fingertips.

“Your worst nightmare,” I reply, unbuckling his pants and tugging at them, trying to pull them down.

He removes my hands from his pants and hisses. “I don’t have a condom, Roe.”

“I don’t care, Saint. I’m on the pill and I’ve never fucked without a condom. However, I’m close to fucking myself if you don’t fuck me right now. Condom or not.” He stops completely and just breathes in my words.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head saying, “Roe, if I take you bare, all bets are off. You won’t be able to push me away anymore because you will be mine.”

“I’m nobody’s possession, Saint,” I snap back, crossing my arms like I’m not half naked in the middle of the damn trail in front of this man.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, princesa. You see, if you were mine, not only would I be making you come right here, I would have you screaming my name every damn day until the day you die. I would make sure there wasn’t a doubt in that pretty little head of yours how incredible you are and how fucking desirable you are. Not just your body but you, Roe, you,” he says, placing his hands on my lap. “It’s not possession, it’s a claim. Let me worship you, Roe. Let me make you mine, but even more, let me be yours.”

There’s so much I want to say right now, but I’m lost between lust and this whispered confession. I don’t have any restraint. I don’t have any control. My body wants him but I think deep down my soul is longing for him. My heart is finding solace in this moment, in the man, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

I guess I ’ m not dead inside after all.