Beautiful Outlaw by Emily Minton

Morning After

Shay

I wake up, sprawled across Bowie’s naked body.  It’s exactly where he put me after dragging me from the shower. I slide off of him, but his arm is still loosely wrapped around me, not allowing me to go too far.  When the side of my body hits the mattress beside him, I feel a twinge between my legs.  My muscles ache, muscles that I haven’t ever used before. Of course, I’ve had sex, but nothing like I experienced last night.

Marcus had a weekly ritual.  Every Saturday night, he would come to my room and climb on top of me.  This would only last a few moments before he placed a quick kiss on my lips and crawled out of bed. Never once did we share the same bed, not for sleeping at least.  He said that he knew I liked my space; I always had.  In other words, Gwendolyn had liked her space.  Thank goodness, because that was one thing she and I agreed on. 

With Bowie, everything had been different.  I felt alive, as if he was the reason I was breathing.  I couldn’t get close enough to him.  I wanted him to bury himself inside me and never leave.  This morning, however, I’m not sure how I can even look at him.  The way I acted is inexcusable.  I begged him to have sex with me.  I pleaded with him after he said no. I forced him to do it or break his promise to my mother. 

As soon as that thought passes my mind, the reality of her death forces all thoughts of my time with Bowie away.  My mom is gone.  I’ll never get to see her again, never get to hold her hand or tell her how much I love her.  Just the thought has a sob working its way up my throat.  It comes out as a soft whimper, but that’s enough to wake Bowie. 

“Are you okay, baby?” His arms tighten around me, where he is holding me close to his side. 

Trying not to think of Mom, I start to apologize.  “I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that to you last night.”

I feel his body go taut.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not sure what to say, I stumble over my words.  “I shouldn’t have… you know... made you do that to me.”

I feel his body vibrate and look up to see a huge smile on his face.  He’s laughing, but it’s silent.  Still, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  “Why are you laughing?”

“Baby, you didn’t do anything but give me permission to do what I’ve been aching to do since I walked into Nina’s kitchen.” 

I let his words sink in, trying to figure out if he is telling the truth.  No one has ever wanted me.  Marcus wanted his dead wife.  My high school boyfriend broke up with me to date a cheerleader.  It’s just hard to believe that a man like Bowie really wants me.  Instead of wondering, I decide to ask.  “Why?”

His brow lifts.  “Why what?”

“Why do you want me?  What about me do you want?”

He studies me for a second before responding.  “Lock used to tell me stories about you- when you snuck out to see Green Day and got grounded, the time that you tried to make an apple pie and caught the oven on fire, just shit about his baby sister that made him laugh.”

He raises his hand to my face.  “Every day he would tell me a new story, and every day I grew to like you more.  Then, he showed me your picture, and I knew that I wanted you right then.  I had to have the funny girl that looked smoking hot in a bikini.  I swore to myself, when I got out the desert, I was gonna meet you.”

His eyes go hard before he continues on.  “Then, he told me you got married.  Just like that, my dream was shot to hell.”

His words cause me to lean in closer, nearly lying on top of him.  “Bowie...”

He cuts me off.  “Then, I walk into Nina’s kitchen, and I see my dream again. Shit, baby, the reality is so much fuckin’ better than I imagined it would be.”

I watch as he goes to his side and up on an elbow, looking down at me.  With his face just inches from mine, he continues.  “If I could spend the rest of my life buried inside you, I would.”

I don’t tell him how closely his words mirror my earlier thoughts.  Instead, I try to make him smile again.  I need that smile back. “If you did, we would both die of starvation.”

“But what a way to go,” he mumbles as his lips lower to mine and he gently strokes his tongue against mine. 

The kiss goes from gentle to heated quickly.  Just as he moves his hand up my side, stopping just under my breast, a door opens in the other room.  In the blink of an eye, Bowie is over me and standing beside the bed.  His gun is in his hand, a gun that I knew he wore but didn’t realize he kept with him while he slept. 

“Bowie, brother, you here,” a voice I have never heard before shouts from the front of the trailer. 

I watch as his body relaxes. “Yeah, Shooter.  Give us a second.”

He walks to the other side of the room and grabs his jeans.  “Fuck,” he mumbles out as he tries to pull the still damp denim on. 

I watch him struggle, and a laugh bubbles up inside of me.  No matter how hard I try, I can’t hold it in.  As the sound leaves my mouth, his eyes cut to me.  They’re narrowed, but there is a hint of playfulness in them. 

“So, you think this is funny,” he asks as he finishes tugging up his jeans. 

I nod and tell him something he already knows.  “Your pants are wet.”

He moves toward the bed and climbs on.  Crawling toward me, he looks like a predator coming in for the kill.  Before I realize it, his body is on top of mine.  His jeans are not just damp; they are soaking wet.  He moves a leg between mine, causing chill bumps to form on my inner thighs. 

“When I get done with Shooter, I’m gonna get you wet, but I promise you won’t be laughing,” he whispers then places another hot kiss on my lips.  The kiss ends as quickly as it begins.

“Get dressed, baby.” With those words, he jumps from the bed and down the hall.  A second later, I hear my brother’s booming voice. 

“Where the hell is Laura?”