Page 66 of Snake

“Huh,” Autumn said, standing in the middle of the room.

It wasn’t much. Though patches and prospects sometimes lived in these rooms for weeks or months at a time—for a prospect, when they had one, it was years—they weren’t designed for long-term residency. They’d been bigger, and fewer, back in the day, but when the club membership doubled in size, they’d remodeled the space for more, smaller rooms.

Now each one was eight by ten feet, with a full-size bed (mail-order mattress and metal frame) wedged into one far corner and a three-drawer Walmart chest wedged into the other. A small window, covered with mini-blinds, sat in the middle of the exterior wall, between those two bleak pieces of furniture.

There was a microscopic bathroom as well, about the size of an RV bathroom, shared between each two adjacent rooms.

Cox had never spent more than an occasional drunken night in his designated space. He primarily used it for one thing: he didn’t like fucking in public.

Thus, what few personal items he kept here were of the ‘personal item’ variety. A large, half-empty bottle of lube sat atop the chest, alongside a stack of white hand towels (Walmart specials, ten for ten), and a Costco-size box of condoms. A speaker/charger dock for his phone sat at the corner of the chest, beside a small gooseneck lamp.

The three drawers contained more towels, two extra sets of sheets, an extra blanket, a few pairs of underwear, and a couple Horde t-shirts, thus far unused.

The bed was made simply—white sheets, two pillows, a Walmart comforter with a blue gradient pattern.

“This is a sex room,” Autumn said.

Cox didn’t reply, because that was both correct and not a question.

She turned around and looked up at him. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

Taking a step to the side, he indicated the door. “Not holdin’ you here.”

Her brow went taut. “Do you want me here?”

Now, see, that was one of those weaselly questions meant to wring out some encouragement without saying she needed encouragement. He didn’t like that twisty kind of talk.

“You’re here. What else you think that means?”

Surprisingly, she smiled—no, she grinned. It lit up her whole damn face. “I wasn’t looking for a pat on the head, Cox. What I meant is do you want me, specifically, or am I simply convenient. Because this”—she swept an arm out to encompass the narrow slice of room—“looks like convenience is your main driver.”

Speaking generally, habitually, about his feelings and relations with women, she wasn’t wrong. But speaking specifically about this particular moment, this particular woman? That was different.

Cox took the step that put their bodies in contact. “Nothin’ about you is convenient, city girl.”

Her grin held as she flung her arms over his neck. “And that’s just how I like it.”

He grabbed her hips and brought their bodies firmly together. “Good. That’s enough talk.” He slammed his mouth over hers and made sure they were done talking.

As before, she seemed absolutely into him taking charge, without becoming submissive or passive. When he claimed her mouth again, she tightened her arms around his neck so snugly that when he stood tall, he brought her off the floor. Climbing him again. Her legs snaked around his as he took the two steps that brought him against the frame of the bed. When he tried to lay her on the mattress, she held on, bringing him down with her so that they landed with a bounce.

He'd meant to take her clothes off first, but somehow he’d forgotten. Now Autumn was dragging his kutte back by the collar, trying to draw it off. Cox complied, shrugging and twisting until he had the leather in one hand. The only place to put it was the hook on the back of the door, but he didn’t want to get up from the bed. So he pushed it to the side, against the wall.

When he was able to focus on Autumn again, she’d opened her blouse. Copper eyes stared at him, bold and vulnerable. Cox looked down at a slim expanse of peachy-pale skin, and his mouth went dry.

The same kind of freckles she worked to hide on her face crossed the top of her chest lightly, like she’d passed through a mist. The notch at the base of her slender throat fluttered rapidly with each shallow breath. Her bra was indeed a filmy thing, a sheer and lovely pink that showed her nipples, contracted to hard little stones.

As he studied her beautiful body, Autumn lifted her hand and traced a finger along the edge of his leather shoulder holster. Cox watched her finger for a moment, then focused on her face again.

“Bother you?”

Her focus was on her finger, his holster, what it meant. But when he spoke, she shifted to meet his gaze. She considered his question for a moment, then shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

That was enough for him. He shrugged free of his gun, reached to set it on the dresser, and returned to the business at hand—her gorgeous tits wrapped in silk and lace, the nipples like tiny candies waiting to be sampled.

He bent his head and captured one between his teeth. Autumn cried out softy and flung her arms over his head, holding him in place. That flowers-and-honey scent wrapped around him, and he moaned as all his senses clamored for more. More touch, more taste, more scent, more sound, more sight, more everything.

What the fuck was going on with him? With her? Never in his life had he been hungry for a woman like this. More than hungry. He fucking needed her.

---