“Delaney! Wait!” I spin to find her right behind me, her face pulled tight in worry.
“This is dangerous territory to be a stranger in, Laney.” I frown at yet another warning. “Here, take this,” she whispers, placing a small pendant on a metal chain into my hand.
Marie holds my face in her hands, her eyes move over my face as if searching for something. She closes her eyes and says a few words I don’t recognize. I feel the heavy intention of her actions. Finally, she places a soft kiss on my lips.
“Be safe,” she says, before releasing me.
“Thanks,” I say, stunned. “You can call me Laney.”
A tiny smile appears on her face. “Girl, I just want to call you.” Marie laughs and disappears back inside the store.
I clip the chain around my neck and stumble onto the sidewalk. As soon as I make it to the end of the block, I dial King.
“Laney,” he answers. Just the sound of his velvet voice makes my frayed nerves seem to calm. “Were you able to get some info out of Marie?”
“Yeah, I got some things to check out,” I say.
“You didn’t have to offer any sexual favors in exchange for this information did you?” he asks, mostly teasing.
“Not this time,” I say, only to hear him give a laugh.
“Well, Mamie is a no go. She insists she doesn’t know anything and that I should stop digging around. She also asked me to stop helping you.”
“And what was your reply?” I ask.
“I told her that I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.”
His words hit me with relief, but Marie’s warning sits heavy on my shoulders and I’m not sure if I should keep pushing on or not. There seems to be so many forces against us. Being an outsider is going to make things even more difficult. Somehow in the middle of all this, fear is not a part of what I’m feeling. It’s just an insane inclination to figure this out.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You look sad.”
My eyes shoot down the block where I find him walking with his phone pressed to his ear. Even from this distance, I can see the worry in his expression.
“I’m okay,” I say as King approaches.
“Good,” he answers.” Because there’s this beautiful girl in front of me and I’ve got to go.”
We walk back to my apartment where I tell King everything Marie said. He opens my computer and waits for it to boot up.
“Do we start with Cas’s husband or the kidnapped girl?” I ask.
King opens a browser window and searches Miles Duvernay. I look over his shoulder, scanning the results as fast as I can. Several links come up and we read through each of them, making sure it’s the same Miles Duvernay we need. With each click, we learn a little more about Miles. His obituary states that he died ten years ago and Cas is listed as his only surviving relative. In the sixties, he’d been a city councilman for two years with an impeccable record and large local support.
King and I filter through all the information, trying to connect him or Cas to the Bondye Saints. On page three of Google search results, we find it.
“Beloved Mid City Councilman was not a saint,” King reads aloud.
“Check that one.”
We read through the Times-Picayune article dated around the time of his death. It was written as a recount of Miles’ life, a timeline of the good and bad. The writer points out Miles’ involvement with the disappearance of Emma Green from a festival in 1969.
“After hours of questioning, it was discovered that Duvernay’s wife Cassandra, knew nothing of the girl and she was cleared of all charges. Duvernay admitted to transporting the girl to the location, but alleged that someone else was responsible for the abduction. He would not say who. No motive was ever confirmed,” I read aloud.
“Damn, this is what Marie was talking about,” King says.
“How on earth does someone who was associated with a kidnapping get elected Councilman?” I ask.
King shrugs and leans in to finish reading. “Though Councilman Duvernay’s involvement was confirmed, he was never convicted of any crimes related to the incident.” King looks to me now. “It was so long between the two. This city has a habit of forgetting the ugly.”
“Well, if nothing else, it confirms that Miles is definitely involved with the Bondye Saints. Which means Cas probably knows something. Now what?” I ask.
King leans back in his chair and exhales. His head snaps toward me and I almost jerk back from the motion. “Now we find Emma Green.”
11
“OKAY, THE INTERNET SAYS Emma Green is still alive and still lives in New Orleans,” I say.
“And if it’s on the internet, it must be true,” King deadpans.
“Anyway,” I continue, ignoring his jab. “We have an address. Let’s go!”
“Slow down, Veronica Mars. A, we don’t know if that is even the right Emma Green.”
“The age is right. It’s got to be her,” I interrupt.
“B, it’s like ten o’clock at night. Southerners don’t like unannounced visitors. And C, what’s your plan? You gonna show up and be your charming self again? Didn’t work out too well with Mamie.”
King gives me his sly grin and I want to kiss it off his face. Instead, I feign annoyance and take a seat next to him. When he chuckles at my pouting face, I stick my tongue out.
“Glad to see you’re being mature about this,” he says, poking me in the ribs. He’s always so chill, it’s nice to see him being playful. Sometimes King’s serious, sexy demeanor feels overwhelming.
I roll my eyes, but can’t help the smile that edges up the corners of my mouth. When King brings his beer bottle to his lips, I nudge his leg hard. He misses his mouth and the cold beverage trickles down his chin, soaking his shirt. I burst into a fit of laughter, flinging myself back onto the sofa.
King swipes his mouth with the bottom of his shirt and the sight of those abs switch me back to desperate and wanting. I see a glimpse of payback in King’s searing gaze and I panic.
“King! I’m sorry!”
“I’m sure you are,” he says, crawling over me.
I try to push on his shoulders to make an escape, but King grabs both of my wrists in one hand and pins them over my head. The atmosphere clearly shifts from fun to an intense kind of heat. My breaths are heavy as I wait for him to make the next move.
When I lose my patience, I shift my hips up to meet his crotch and he lets out a groan. My lips part, welcoming his demanding kiss. This kiss is hot and assertive without overpowering me. He lets me lead for a while, and then dives in again. Our bodies press together, every bit of me wants to be closer, so much closer.
“I’m not going to have you on this sofa, Laney,” King says. He pulls me to the foot of the bed where his lips and hands find their way back to my body.
King leans back on his elbows, the only evidence that he is affected as much as I am, are the heavy breaths pushing his chest in and out. I slowly peel the clothes from my body, shimmying out of my shorts and kicking them away. I’m too turned on to be concerned about my generic and unimpressive panties.
King’s hands fly to my breasts, his thumbs skimming over the thin material of my bra, teasing my nipples. They come to life, hardening under his touch. Unhooking the front clasp, I let it fall from my shoulders and his hands go right back to where they were. Except, this time, it’s heated skin on heated skin, and I am melting into his touch.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, running his hands down my waist. “So broken.”
“So, fix me, King.”
He hooks his index fingers into the sides of my panties and slides them down my body. With him still fully clothed and me completely naked, I feel vulnerable and on display. For King, I don’t even mind.
His eyes rake over my body from top to toes and back again. “I don’t know if I can heal you,” he says. “But I’d die trying.”
King slips to the floor before me, he presses his face to my stomach, placing a soft kiss ther
e. His lips form a path down, down, down, until his mouth is pressed between my legs. His strong arms wrap around my thighs and his hands grab my ass. King practically growls as he pulls me forward.
An unintelligible scream leaves my lips when his tongue first darts out to connect with my clit. It’s a quick, sharp motion that catches me off guard. He repeats it a few times and each flick of his tongue makes my knees want to buckle. I rest my hands on his shoulders just to stay upright.
“King,” I gasp.
He looks up at me, those piercing eyes connecting with mine as he flattens his tongue and licks along my slit. King tilts his head back and runs his pink tongue over his bottom lip.
“That’s right. I want to hear who you belong to.”
I let out a sigh as he dives back in, this time in a relentless rhythm of short and long strokes. King’s fingers dig into the flesh of my ass as he pulls me tighter against his face devouring me. My eyes roll toward the ceiling as euphoria takes over my body. My fingers and toes go numb with a prickling kind of sensation as King works my body into a frenzy.
Unable to form words, the only sounds from me are short, stuttering gasps with every flick of his tongue. I feel weightless and floating and at the same time, tied to him. My orgasm hits like a wrecking ball. Every muscle pulls tight as the ecstasy takes over, crashing over me again and again. I’d happily drown in it.
When my legs give out, King holds me up. White spots dot my vision and I can’t take anymore. I try to push him away because the pleasure is overwhelming, he just holds me closer and presses his tongue against my clit.
“Please,” I beg. “Please. I can’t take it.”
King finally places a soft kiss below my belly button and releases me. I slide down into his lap, clinging to his body like a boneless mess of a girl. His hands rub circles on my back in an effort to revive me.
“Are you okay?” he whispers against my shoulder.
I nod but can’t find the words to give him anything more. King lets me sit for a few minutes. When my pulse has returned to normal and I’ve regained most of the feeling in my legs, I finally lift my head.
Reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, King lets me pull it off. All those curves and valleys of muscle covered by his flawless skin is only interrupted by the black and gray tattoo I’ve been wanting to see since day one. In the center of his chest is a sacred heart with a flame coming from the top. Rays of light scatter out from the center and on each side, a flower-crowned skull.
I kiss the heart in the center of his chest and splay my fingers out along the skulls. Running my hands over his shoulders and biceps feels electrifying and recharging. Our lips connect and this time the kiss is soft, nibbling and tasting. It refuels the hunger I have for him, like I could never have enough.
We move to the bed where King lies beneath me and I work his belt free from his jeans. Next, I pop each button on his fly open, making slow, purposeful motions along his crotch. I’m thrilled, but not surprised to find no underwear beneath his jeans. When I get the last button undone and pull his jeans down his legs, I am greeted by the most beautiful, perfect cock I’ve ever seen. My mouth salivates at the sight of him, hard and waiting.
Before I can do anything, King flips me onto my back. I squeal and giggle, but the laugh dies in my throat when I see the predatory look in his eyes. I raise my hand to his face, running my fingertips along the edge of his scruffy jaw. King turns his head and kisses the palm of my hand.
He fetches a condom from his wallet and slides it on. My legs spread wide, welcoming him in, needing him to connect in the most primal way. And when he holds my eyes and pushes inside, we both let out a sigh.
With King, I feel whole again. There is only light and peace, and blinding contentment. He moves over me while slowly pumping in and out. The light sheen of sweat from our bodies gives a slick feeling to his hard body pushing against my soft one.
I run my hands up his arms and lace my fingers behind his neck. With every thrust, a whimper escapes my throat. I haven’t felt so full, so free from everything in a long time. King’s medallion dangles between us, rocking to match our rhythm. When he has lulled me into a peaceful kind of bliss, King sits back on his knees. I reach for him and he pulls me up into a kiss. His hands work my breasts as his tongue tangles with mine. My center aches for him, pulsing with the desire to have him back.
King turns me around and nudges me onto all fours. He enters me from behind and the sensation is so different, so much more intense.
“Fuck, Laney,” he grunts out.
His hands tug on my waist and he pulls me back so that I am sitting on his lap. King’s hands wrap around my body and tug on my nipples as I lift up on my knees and lower myself back down. In this position, he is so deep inside me, yet I control our pace. The cold air from the window unit blows over our bodies, drying the sweat and chilling my skin.
King’s hands roam my body, touching every inch of skin he can reach. I feel worshipped. I move myself up and down, grinding my ass into his lap every time we connect. My movements are slow and playful and I can tell King is on the edge of his willpower. After a few strokes, I force myself down hard and arch back against his chest. I throw my hands back, grab his hair and bring his mouth to mine.
A rumbling kind of growl hums through his body and I know I’m in for it. King breaks our kiss and pushes my shoulders away. I fall forward on the bed with him still inside of me. He guides my hands to the headboard, wrapping my fingers around the metal bars there.
“Hold on, baby,” he says. I know to follow instructions.
King pulls almost all the way out and slams back in with a force that I feel in every cell of my body. My grip tightens on the headboard and he pounds into me from behind, his hands wrapped around my waist, pushing and pulling. He commands me and I am all too willing to comply.
The shaky bed rattles beneath our movement, but I can focus on nothing but the feel of King inside me, giving me what I want, what I so desperately need. His pace is frantic and stirs a violent kind of pleasure inside. With each thrust I push back against him, wordlessly begging for more. And he gives it to me.
There are so many feelings, so many nerves electrified, that I don’t know where I end and he begins, but when he screams out my name, I know he is close to finding his release. I double my efforts, pushing my body hard into each thrust. When he reaches beneath my body and presses against my clit, I scream as an unexpected orgasm rips through me. I fall flat onto the bed and King follows, still pushing, still pumping, still filling me as I ride out my bliss.
“Laney,” he says, as if in prayer, as he climaxes. I feel his body go rigid, his breath held tight in his chest. King shudders and finally relaxes on top of me.
He rolls over, pulls off the condom and tosses it on the floor. Pulling me into his chest, he traces the curve of my shoulder with his fingers, and follows it with kisses. His lips press against my neck and my jaw.
“Was I too rough with you?” he asks, fingers sliding over my hip and thigh.
“No,” I say, turning over and looking into his eyes. “You were perfect.”
“We were perfect,” he says.
I close my eyes and breathe in his words. I haven’t been a “we” in a long time, but I desperately want to be his.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, lips hovering against my ear.
“I don’t want to let you go.”
He doesn’t say a word, but squeezes me tighter. I stare at the tattoo on his chest and listen as his breaths become even and he falls asleep.
_______________
I wake up early the next morning, with a smile on my face and an empty bed. Memories of last night play through my thoughts and the visions make me want King all over again. Every piece of me feels alive, and it’s a feeling I barely remember. Something changed last night, not just physically, but deeper inside. Some part of my hurt, my pain, my guilt and fear, broke free and dissolved beneath King’s touch.
My arm slides a
cross the mattress, feeling the warm spot he must have just recently abandoned. I rub at my eyes, willing sleep to leave me and glance around the empty room.
“King?” I call out, my voice raspy. His head pops up from the foot of the bed, his brows sit low over serious eyes. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Well, I was looking for my pants. I found them under the bed, but there’s something else under there.”
“What is it?” I ask, jumping out of bed and pulling on his t-shirt.
“I don’t know. We need to move the bed.”
Placing our hands on the mattress we push until the bed rests against the far wall under the window. King mutters a curse and I turn to find him on his knees, fingers tracing a pattern etched into the hardwood floor.
“What is that?” I ask. I recognize the symbol from my research, but in the early morning hours, the dots are not connecting.
“This is bad. Very bad.”
12
“IT’S A SYMBOL FOR Papa Legba,” King says.
“Legba? The gatekeeper between worlds?” I ask.
King nods, his eyes still focused on the symbol. “He grants permission for mortals and spirits to communicate. He’s the first and last thing needed for any spell.”
“I know all of that. But, spell? What spell?”
King jumps up and pulls the luggage from my closet. I watch in frozen fascination as he yanks my clothes from the hangers and dumps them into the suitcase.
“King! What are you doing?” My voice goes unnoticed as he moves around the apartment grabbing anything that belongs to me. I chase him into the bathroom, grabbing his arm and spinning him face me. “What are you doing?” I repeat.
“You’re going to come stay with me. We’ll go to Mamie. She’ll know how to undo this.”
“Undo what?” I ask, my arms flailing in the small room. King moves past me, tossing my toothbrush and toiletries into the suitcase. He spins in a circle, searching the rest of the space for anything he’s missed.
King Me Page 12
