by Snow, Nicole
It’s torture, fighting it like this, but damn if it isn't exhilarating.
We both ride the waves, harder and faster, every scalding minute, until it overtakes us.
“Hunter!” she asks, her breath a rasp. “Please.”
“Now, babe. Fucking come!”
Her pussy squeezes my cock like sin as every inch of me erupts. I'm slamming my hips into her, bucking hard and deep, spilling every drop so deep in that condom, and wishing all the while the thing wasn't there.
It doesn't do anything to deaden the sensation. The ultimate O hits like lightning. Throws me into some sort of fifth dimension.
I'm not sure what planet I'm on anymore because there’s nothing comparable on Earth.
Nothing like bringing Sugar's naughty pussy off with my own convulsing dick.
Nothing like the fire, the ice, the moaning, the growling, the panting, the sweat.
Nothing like her and me, coming so fucking hard it hurts.
Coming because our bodies are both ruined for anybody else, and the only way we'll make this happen as much as I want is by hooking up hard and often.
The aftermath is just as consuming. I’m in a post-ecstasy fog as I sink into the couch, Wendy with me.
Her body goes limp, lying on top of mine. My dick is still inside her, still shaking at the work-out it had just had.
“How can that be?” she asks.
Her mouth is right over my heart, and the heat of her breath penetrates deep inside me. I sigh at how amazing it feels. “How can what be?”
“That it just keeps getting better and better?”
Smiling, I wrap her in a bear hug, with no intention of ever letting go. I slide my fingers through her hair and plant a kiss on her forehead.
I don't have an answer, but I know it's a mystery worth savoring.
When we're both able to move again, I ask her to stay. Spend the night.
She refuses, though, and maybe it's for the best. They'll both be up early and I can't have her running into Ben.
Eventually, I walk her out to her car and watch her leave. She tells me to call her tomorrow, and this time, I swear I will.
I hang behind the door, wrapped in my robe, as she pulls down my driveway and heads off into the night.
The scariest, most bewildering thing of all isn't how my secrets almost ran her off. Or the truth she finally made me see, like a cleaner wiping away an ancient fog of dust and grit on a window.
It's that I might be falling in love with Sugar and Spice.
I can handle Ben. I can handle the past. But how the fuck do I handle a future with her?
* * *
I’m not overly surprised early the next morning when Ben asks what I’d think about him working at the bakery for a few hours or so after school. He tells me about the credit program, and I'm sold.
Hell, I’d jump at the chance. I want to be around Wendy as much as possible.
He says it’s because he likes having a job. I remember that feeling, too. I loved working when I was his age. It's something I've sincerely missed since going into maintenance mode with Landmark.
I tell him I’ll think about it and see what Wendy thinks for good measure.
I consider stopping at the bakery after dropping him off, but then decide against it.
I still need to talk to Sloan. He’s been my voice of reason the past twelve years, and I need that right now. I also need to find out what the hell he was doing leading Ben to those pictures.
Not that I'm mad anymore.
If it wasn't for him, I wouldn’t have Ben. Sloan’s been with me every step of the way since then. If finding the old pictures of Cory and Juno were a mistake, then maybe it's one that had to happen.
Once I'm back home, I send him a message, then pull out the latest checks he’d dropped off for me to sign. I open the folder with the steel print Landmark logo, and can't stop my mind from going down the route it’s wanted to take since telling Wendy about the fire last night.
Cory had called me the day before the place burned. I figured he would, after our little meeting of senior leadership. It was just the three of us, plus a lady from HR as a witness. I let my brother and Sloan go back and forth, calmly and not-so-calmly, but by the end of it, everything seemed good.
He told me he needed to talk to me, though. That he had proof there was a security breech at Landmark.
He’d said it before, and I’d had Sloan look into it. Completely.
That was part of the issue all along. Cory thinking Sloan wasn't doing his job. Sloan insisting to every god in the universe he was.
* * *
Twelve Years Ago
“It’s more than our designs, bro,” Cory insists over the phone. “They know our bids. I have proof. Look, I'm not saying it's all Sloan's fault, but fuck. Someone's been in the goddamned system. It's here in front of my own face.”
“All right, all right,” I say, sighing. It's been a long day, and it's only going to get longer. “I’ll drive over tomorrow.”
“No, Hunter. You have to come now. Alone. There’s going to be trouble if we don't deal with this. Serious trouble.”
The urgency in his voice makes my stomach acid churn. Acid, and something else.
It’s like that sometimes. As my identical twin, there are eerie times when I swear I can feel what he’s feeling.
Like that time in the Marines when I was being evacuated, medics around me, working like crazy on my knee. Later, Cory swore he felt it, even though I was a thousand miles away. Said his leg had gone limp, hurt like hell.
The same thing had happened when he’d broken his arm trying to ride his bike. I’d learned to ride mine, even though my arm ached the entire time his was in a cast.
By the time he'd gotten word about the incident that won me a purple heart, he knew it hadn’t been fatal because his leg had stopped hurting.
My stomach burns hotter. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll be right over.”
I leave without telling anyone, but I only make it as far as the parking lot before my evening gets worse.
“A flat? Shit!” I kick at the truck tire. “Fucking tires are brand new. Entire truck is.”
I search for Sloan’s vehicle – sometimes, he's here late – but don’t see it. I punch in his cell number as I jog back toward the building.
Sloan doesn’t answer. More than my stomach is burning now; I can feel it in my blood, pumping faster and faster through my veins. This uncanny sense that something very bad is about to happen.
I go to the first door, throw it open, searching for the security night crew. It's after hours and everybody else is long gone.
“I need to borrow a vehicle!” I shout when I finally walk in, and I find a guy in a tan uniform filling up his coffee cup in the break room.
“Take mine, boss.” Wayne Simmons tosses his keys at me. “It’s the red and white Chevy with the yellow lights on top.”
“Thanks. Mine has a flat.”
He gives me the thumbs up. “Got you covered. I’ll send someone out to change it.”
I run to the parking lot, find Wayne's Chevy, and head straight for Cory’s place.
Halfway there, this hell-pain like I’ve never known encompasses me, shooting through my whole body.
It’s fucking debilitating. I have to fight it just to keep driving. I finally turn onto Cory’s road with every nerve in my body sizzling away like I've been struck by lightning.
But the pain deadens when I see it.
Smoke. Dense, black smoke.
A horrific scream clenches my throat. I can’t breathe.
Tears are streaming down my face, blinding me as I park the truck halfway on his lawn, ready to storm the house. Then I see Sloan from around the corner, his face like a ghost, dirty smudges all over him, his hands a torn, bloody mess. My baby nephew, just a bundle in his trembling arms.
Mostly, there's just fire. Fire everywhere.
Fire and sirens and screams.
* * *
Present Day
/> My lungs are on fire.
It takes a moment to realize I’m in my office, it's more than a decade later, and the phone’s ringing. I ignore it, lean my head back, wipe the sweat off my forehead, and breathe. Just breathe.
I’d known before I’d climbed out of the truck that day my brother was dead.
Burned to death inside his house with his wife next to him.
Nobody made it out except Sloan, holding Ben with one arm. The other held me back with all his might, keeping me from killing myself inside that burning house before the cops and firefighters arrived a minute later.
He’d arrived just after the house exploded, saw Ben through the window, smashed it with his fist, grabbed Ben, but he couldn’t go back in. Flames already engulfed the house.
I get up, leave the room, and head for the closest door, needing fresh air.
On the back patio, I plant my hands on the hood of the grill, letting the cold metal penetrate my hands and the icy air cool my lungs.
“What're you doing?” A familiar voice asks from the ether.
I have no idea how long I’ve been standing out here. Must be awhile because a shiver ripples over me.
“I used the grill last night. We had steaks,” I tell Sloan. “Was just checking to see if I needed to wash the grate.”
“Really? You’ve just been standing there since I drove in? In this bitch-ass weather?”
Nodding, I don't know why I'm so startled. So uneasy. Or why I lie.
“Trying to decide if I want to buy one of those pellet grills next year. Watched a cooking show where they smoked ribs on one the other day. Looked damn good.” It was probably six months since I saw that on TV one day, but I don’t want him knowing I was just coming out of the throes of hell and memory.
That day fucked him up almost as bad as it did me.
The entire outdoor patio is huge. It's made of brick, marble, and stainless steel. “There’s room, I mean, it'd just take a lot of work.” I head for the door.
“So? Hire someone to do it,” he says, following me.
The heat feels good. I make a point of not rubbing my bare arms to get the blood flowing.
“It’s fucking cold out here,” Sloan growls, puffing breath into his hands. “Shit, man. You should have on more than a t-shirt. You trying to get sick before Christmas?”
“Nah, I didn’t plan on standing out there that long. Want some coffee?”
“I'm good. Tanked up. Had the usual this morning. Freebie from the gas station.”
I forego making a pot and walk to my office, waving him to follow.
He sits down on one of the leather chairs. “Got those checks signed yet?”
I plant myself in my desk chair and nod at the folder. “I just pulled them out, but it reminded me...I have to talk to you.”
“Yeah, Bud? What's going on?”
He’s as stone-faced as ever. With his black hair tied back in a ponytail today, wearing his leather jacket, I can see why he scared the shit out of Wendy a few weeks ago.
There was a time when I dressed a lot like that, too. We’d both only dress more professionally when it’s necessary. That was before Ben. Before Cory died.
“It's Ben.” I fold my hands together on my lap.
“Oh, yeah, Ben!” He holds up a finger and digs inside his coat with the other. “I picked these up for him.” He tosses several brochures on the desk. “Bora Bora, New Zealand, and Paris. Ben said he hadn’t decided where to go over Christmas break. So I brought options.” He flashes a proud grin.
“Surprisingly, Ben doesn’t want to go anywhere this year.”
“He...huh?” Sloan's huge smile melts.
I nod. “He wants to work, believe it or not. He's hooked on that new job.”
“Washing dishes? Dude...what the hell are you doing to that kid?”
“He likes it.” I smile. “Says he wants to keep learning more about the kitchen, hoping to get assigned more duties. You remember your first job?”
“Yep. A car wash when I was fourteen. Fucking hated it. And my old man took every dime I made. Said I wasn't too young to start paying rent.”
I wince, but it's the perfect in for me to change the subject. “Ben's growing up. He made the decision to stay here for the holidays, and it got me thinking. I think it's time. Time I tell him.”
Sloan’s eyes darken, going cold before he looks away, shaking his head. “Shit. Not this again.”
“He needs to know. He deserves it, Sloan. You're his uncle, and I thought I'd give you a heads up before –”
“Why, Hunt? Why? Why fuck him up when you don’t have to? Why do that to him or yourself?”
“It’s been twelve years.” Although at times, it feels like yesterday. “That’s too long. He's fourteen.”
He stands up, pacing the floor. “Too long for what? That kid already knows all he ever needs to. That his mother died. That your brother died. And that someday, God willing, he’ll inherit a company worth more than some small countries.” Stopping at the corner of my desk, he shakes his head. “What the fuck has gotten into you? Is it the holidays? Or is it that little girl you’re fucking?”
His tone shifts, and I damn sure don't like it one bit.
I jump to my feet, leveling a glare that lets him know he’s crossing a fine line.
He holds up a hand. “Sorry, that was too far. But...come on, dude. Everything's running smooth as a hooker's wax job. Going our way. Don’t throw a wrench in it.”
I let his comment about Wendy slide without punching him in the face. For now.
I get where he’s coming from. And know how hard he’s worked for me, for hell, the past eighteen years.
“It hasn’t been going smooth for Ben. The school change was rough on him. Honestly, until he got this job, I haven't seen him like his old self in ages. It's more than that, too. It hasn’t been smooth for me. This partial retirement shit is for the birds. Sometime in the next couple years, I want to get back to the day-to-day, even if it's still part-time.”
He takes a step backward like he's been hit by an arrow. “You’re going back to work, too?”
I shrug. Ben talking about going to work every day made me think this morning.
Made me miss having someplace to go, things to do, the ritual of being a busy, powerful man at the head of a proud ship.
I’d loved my job once upon a time. Still love Landmark. Ben will inherit it someday, if he wants, which is what Cory wanted. We’d talked about that. “Not right away, I mean. But sometime soon, little by little? Yeah, maybe. Ben’s at school every day. That's enough time for me to put in a few more hours.”
“He’s been at school every day for the past eight years.” Sloan grabs the brochures and tosses them closer to me. “You know what I think? I think you two need to go on a vacation and get your heads back on straight. Don't complicate shit, Hunt.”
He’s angry. I can see why.
He’s done a hell of a job for me, especially since I retired, but it's my company. My decision. I’m not totally sure what the full scope of that decision will be yet. But I've dropped it on his head without warning, so I can't blame him. Not entirely.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. And if Ben doesn't want to go...maybe Wendy needs a vacation, too.
“Damn right, I’m right. That’s why you pay me the big bucks to figure out what right is.” He points at the folder. “I have a meeting to get to with Research this evening, you got those checks signed?”
I sit down, flip open the folder, and start signing my name. Until one check makes me do a double take. “Eight hundred and fifty thousand? What the hell is this for?”
I look at the invoice attached, flipping through it, the logo from a company I don’t recognize.
“You know we’ve been outsourcing a lot of IT stuff. That’s the new company. Their quarterly payment.”
“Quarterly? Fuck me. That’s a hell of a bill for in-house networks.”
“Gotta protect our secrets.” He shrugs. “
You approved it. We went through the bids together, remember?”
I do recall the discussion and reviewing bids.
Just don’t remember the total we agreed to being well over a million dollars a year. I’m not sure if that tells me I should return to work, or fully retire.
I sign the check and finish the stack before handing him the folder.
He takes it. “Don’t do anything foolish, Bud. You said Ben’s just coming around, so don’t put something more on his shoulders right now. Find a place, take him on vacation, and think about this. Hell, take your new girly-friend with you, too. A little bit of bangin' on the beach never done a man no harm. We’ll talk about it after the first of the year. Figure out how – or if – to tell Ben, too. Whenever things settle down.”
I nod, but I'm not even here. The image of Sugar and Spice in a bikini in Bora Bora flashes across my mind. I smile and stand up. “That might be good advice.”
He grins and flips me his hand. “Always is, Bud. I got your back. Just like old times.”
I shake his hand and then walk him to the back door. On my way back, I return to the kitchen, still contemplating a cup of coffee.
My phone goes off loudly with a text message. I pull out the phone, and I'm a bit disappointed when I see it's not from Wendy.
Josh. It takes me a second to remember he's her cousin.
Hey, Hunter. Running some errands and wondering if I can stop by and drop off your money?
He’d sent a text yesterday, and I’d told him to keep the cash, but he’d insisted he couldn’t do it.
I respect that, and type out a response, telling him to come on over. Maybe a break from all this hard thinking will do me some good.
He arrives a short time later and I invite him in for a cup of coffee.
By the time he leaves, more than two hours later, I’ve hired him to work at Landmark. Turns out, I know his former boss, and gave the guy a call while Josh was sitting in my office.
His glowing reference sealed the deal for me, and I called Landmark’s HR department right after to tell them Josh would be right over.
