The Perversion Trilogy: Perversion, Possession & Permission

by T. M. Frazier

  “Now, she really reminds me of her mother. I can see why the Los Muertos girl is so important to her,” Callum says. He thinks for a second, then shrugs. “My wife and I couldn’t have any more children. Aileen will be over the moon if I come home with one daughter.” He holds up two fingers. “Two? She might fall off the end of the Earth with joy.”

  “When are you planning on leaving?”

  “The streets are already bloody and about to get bloodier. As soon as possible. Sooner, if she’ll allow.”

  “I’ll call the chief and see if we can expedite a DNA test.”

  “Aye, good plan. I’ll talk to my men and ask the chief for a cabin to get some shut-eye.”

  Callum stands, but before he leaves, he pauses. “I know Imogen loves you, Grim. Any fool can see it in her eyes, and I know you love her as well. You hide your true self, but you can’t hide that. It’s written in your very soul and seeps out your pores. I know too much of the soul-sucking feeling that comes with having to live without her.” He looks over his shoulder, and his eyes lock on mine. “The question is, do you love her enough to let her go?”

  Thirteen

  After waking from a nap and taking a shower, I leave the room to find Grim.

  “Morning!” Sandy says in the kitchen. “Grumpy pants is waiting for you outside.” He points to the backdoor.

  I open it to find Grim bent over his motorcycle.

  The bike is all chrome and metal muscle, covered in shiny black skin. I step up to the machine and notice the subtle black roses painted around the gas tank. “It’s beautiful,” I say, placing my palm on the soft worn leather seat.

  “Beautiful,” Grim agrees, but when I glance up, it’s not the bike he’s looking at. It’s me.

  I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks.

  “Ever rode on one before?”

  “No,” I answer, excitement jitters in my stomach.

  “Then, let’s go,” he says.

  “Where’s Callum?” I ask.

  “Nearby. We’ll talk about that later. Ride first,” he says.

  Grim pulls a helmet from under the seat and places it over my head. His cool breath skates over my forehead as he adjusts on the strap under my chin. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and my heart flutters against my rib cage. Much to my surprise, he straddles the seat and lifts me so I’m sitting in front of him, my legs spread wide on the soft leather.

  “Aren’t I supposed to sit on the back?”

  “You’re not used to it yet. It’s safer if I surround your body with mine.”

  My stomach flutters from both his words and his proximity. He revs the engine, and then, we’re off.

  Riding on a motorcycle is nothing like I’ve imagined. The power between your legs. No walls to restrict you. No windows to temper your view of the outside world. It’s something unlike I’ve ever experienced before.

  It’s freedom.

  Grim follows a dirt road past the hospital and the field where we found out Mr. Fuzzy met his end. I feel sad for my little, furry friend.

  We come to a stop. Grim leaves the engine running. “Don’t take your helmet off. I just want to show you something really quick.”

  He lifts me off the bike and takes my hand, dragging me to the edge of the woods where what looks like a miniature log cabin was built just a few feet wide in all directions. At the top of the little house are two sticks marked with an X. Carved into the wood was a name. Mr. Fuzzy.

  “You did this?” I ask, covering my mouth with my hand in disbelief.

  Grim lays a hand on the roof of the little house. “No, Chief David did. He insisted that anything that perishes in this land must return to it. They even gave him a ceremony and laid his feet to the east just as they do their tribe members.”

  “That’s the kindest thing I’ve ever heard.” I lay my hand on the house next to Grim’s. He covers my pinky with his.

  I close my eyes and whisper, “Sleep well, my friend.”

  We get back on Grim’s bike and travel a few more miles down the road. I look to the clear sky and enjoy the warmth of the sun and the warmth of Grim’s skin against my back.

  We stop at the edge of a wooded area. Again, he lifts me off and takes my hand guiding toward an overgrown footpath between two large pine trees.

  “Look,” I say, pointing to the sky.

  Grim stops and looks up to the white lines in the sky. “That’s what’s left behind by airplanes.”

  I nod. “Whenever I would feel alone, I’d look to the sky and search for airplane trails. It was a reminder that I wasn’t alone in the world. There are other people out there, some with even more troubles than my own, some passing right over my head every single day.”

  “What do you do when you feel alone now?” he asks. I lower my eyes to find him staring at me. “Do you still look to the sky?”

  “No,” I reply. “I look to you.”

  Grim’s lips turn up at the corners. “You’re always surprising me.”

  I give him a coy, one shoulder shrug. “I’m nothing, if not unpredictable.”

  “That you are not,” he says, tugging me onto the path.

  We stop at an overgrown wall. I hear murmurs coming from the other side. I hesitate, digging my shoes into the dirt. “Do you hear that?” I ask.

  “Those are our guys. They are lining the entire perimeter of the reservation. ID’s are being checked to enter, and the area around the casino is manned to make sure no one leaves there to go elsewhere. All our guys. It’s safe. I promise you. This time, it really is safe.”

  I swallow down my fears.

  Grim leans down and takes his knife from his pant leg. He cuts away at the growth over the wall. Beneath is concrete covered in the usual graffiti. But as he hacks away, I wonder what it is he wants to show me until something else is revealed underneath. It’s a painting. Not the usual gang sign or mural to a fallen soldier. An honest to goodness beautiful painting of a girl wearing an oversized t-shirt. Her head is cocked to the side, and she’s got a smug expression on her little face. I gasp.

  She’s holding a kitten. Not just any kitten.

  Mr. Fuzzy.

  He hacks away at the last of the overgrowth, revealing crazy, blonde curls on the young girl’s head.

  “It’s me,” I say in wonder.

  “It’s you,” Grim confirms, stepping back to gauge my expression.

  It’s not just a caricature of me. It’s me. An honest to goodness portrait of what I looked like the day we met. The clothes, the curls, the hair on Mr. Fuzzy, and my little con artist expression. My big, bold eyes. It’s more than art.

  “It’s magic.” I press my hand to the wall, stroking it over the insane details. I swing back around to Grim who’s still watching me closely, one hand over his chest, the other propping up his chin. “You painted this?”

  His answer is a curt nod.

  “Grim, you’re a painter. A ridiculously talented one.”

  He shrugs off the compliment, but he can’t fool me. I see the way his eyes light up with my words.

  “I wanted you to see this because…” He puffs out his cheeks, then exhales in frustration and not being able to find the right words. “Because I am the man in the leather hood with bloodied hands, but I’m also more. More than just the reaper of Bedlam. More than just their leader. I’m a man. Flesh and bone. Beating heart. Capable of both life and death. Hate and love. I take, but this…this is my way of...”

  “Giving life,” I offer.

  “Yeah, something like that. I just wanted you to see me. All of me.”

  I take his face in my hand and stand on my tip-toes. “You think I don’t know that you’re more?” I slap him lightly on the chest. He grabs my wrist in his hand, and a bolt of awareness sears my skin. “I’ve known that. I’ve always known that.” He releases my wrist. I trail fingertips down his defined chest. I lean in and plant a soft lingering kiss over his heart. “I love you, Grim. All of you. I lift his hand and kiss each of his fingertips. He’s w
atching me closely, following my every move, still as stone. I plant a final kiss on the center of his palm. “Bloodied hands. Beating heart. All of it.”

  “Fuck, Tricks,” he hisses and pulls me up by my arms. We’re so close we’re breathing each other’s air. “It beats for you.” His lips descend to mine.

  He pulls back. His face looks pained. “Tricks.” He rests his forehead on mine. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  “So, talk,” I whisper against his lips.

  “Egan is right. It won’t be safe for you here.”

  I still in his arms. “You’re pushing me away again.”

  “I’m not. But you deserve everything this world has to offer. To learn things. To travel. To experience life. To have fucking fun. Things I can’t give you. Not now, anyway.”

  “We don’t know that Callum is my father yet—”

  “He is. The chief called this morning. It’s a ninety-nine-point nine percent match.”

  I’m not shocked. I knew in my heart he was my father, but hearing the words changes everything. I realize now that Grim knows Callum is my father he will be that much more set on me leaving. “Besides, fun is a foreign concept,” I say.

  Grim's eyes grow sad, and I realize I’ve said the wrong thing. “That’s just it,” he says. “It shouldn’t be. Not for you.”

  “Don't feel sorry for me.”

  “I'm not feeling sorry for you. But I need you safe. Don’t you want to meet your mother? Find out more about your family?”

  I’m curious about her, and honestly, I have been thinking about her. What she would sound like. Her mannerisms. If she was kind of funny. If she told the same stories over and over. What kind of music she likes. “Yes. No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “I talked to her. Your mother.”

  “You what?” I ask, taken aback.

  “Video chat on Callum’s phone.” He pauses, thinking of his words. “You’ll like her. There’s nothing not to like about her. She’s you. Just older.”

  I don’t know what to say. I do want to meet her. There’s no denying it.

  “You should go,” Grim says. “I can’t be looking over my shoulder, wondering if you’re okay while I end this war. And you need to find out who you really are.”

  He’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but Grim is right. I’m not Emma Jean Parish anymore, but I don’t know who Imogen Egan is either. I’m caught between two worlds. I don’t know my place in either of them.

  “I can’t go.” I tell him, my eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I won’t leave you.”

  “You can go. You have to go. If I had a chance to see my mother again, I wouldn’t hesitate. Go. Live. Experience the world. Meet your family.” Grim searches my eyes, and I realize he’s not pushing me away. He’s pushing me toward something.

  I pull him closer. “You’re my family.”

  “I am. Always will be. Distance won’t change that. And when it’s safe, you can choose to come back.”

  He’s saying the words like he’s giving me a choice when I know in the end, he’s already made up his mind.

  “I will come back,” I assure him. “When it’s safe, I’ll come back.”

  “Tricks, you don’t have to. Don’t think of this as a trip with an expiration date. Come back when you truly want to come back, but if you’re happy there.” He looks into my eyes. “Then, I want you to stay.”

  “Why…why would you say that?”

  “Because this isn’t the place for you. Because you deserve more than having to worry about your life. More than what I can give you. Go. Live for fuck’s sake. If not for you, then for me. I won’t be able to live with myself, knowing you’re settling for something when you don’t know what else is waiting for you out there.”

  I choke down a sob. “I’m going to come back,” I argue.

  My heart is breaking.

  I look up at Grim’s watery eyes and realize mine isn’t the only one.

  Fourteen

  Grim breaks our kiss and shrugs off his jacket, spreading it open on the grass. He lifts me off my feet, my legs wrapping around his waist as he kneels, setting me down on my back. He resumes his kisses. My lips. My jaw. My neck. I’m writhing underneath of him as he makes his way down my body. His hand slides up my shirt, cupping my breasts as he kneels between my spread legs. My cut-offs are short; with my legs splayed before him every inch of my inner thighs are exposed to him.

  Suddenly, Grim’s weight is gone, and so are his lips.

  I lift my head and am met with dark angry eyes staring between my legs. I clap them shut.

  “What the fuck!” he roars. “Tricks, why didn’t you tell me?” A warning rips from deep within his throat. “I’m gonna gut the fucking bastard from groin to heart.”

  “It wasn’t just him,” I blurt, needing for him to know the truth. As ugly as it was. “He…he let his men…” I close my eyes tight, unable to say the words. To give new life to a nightmare I don’t want to relive.

  Grim tips my chin up. “Look at me,” he demands.

  I comply and am met with the eyes of the devil himself, as dark as the night surrounding us. His stare is as determined as his words. “Then, I’ll gut them all.”

  I’ve always known that Grim a dangerous man, but I’ve never felt it in my bones before now. He’s all brutality and loyalty. A murderer and a lifesaver. My heart thumps out a warning in my chest that my brain doesn’t receive because all I’m thinking is how much I love this man. How much I need him. Not despite who he really is but because of who he is. The bruised and battered place between my thighs pulses and aches. He’s so close I can feel his heat on my skin, but not close enough.

  “I was going to tell you,” I say. “I don’t want to keep things from you. But I don’t want this to change things between us, either. I don’t want your pity or your sympathy.”

  Grim’s chest heaves above me. His nostrils flare. “We can’t do this,” he says. Burning me with his words.

  I try and roll out from under him, but he holds me in place, caging me in with his body.

  I push on his chest. “If you don’t want me, then why keep me here?”

  Grim’s brow crinkles with confusion. “No, Tricks. Not because I don’t want you. Never that. I want to fuck you more than you could ever understand. More than I can even understand. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  Grim’s expression softens. “Let me make you feel good. Let me erase some of the hurt.” He pulls me against him for a searing kiss that makes me want nothing more than for him to be inside of me. Injuries be damned.

  His lips release mine all too quickly. The gentle night breeze licks across my wet mouth, cooling my lips.

  Grim continues to my neck, sucking behind my ear.

  I dig my fingernails into his back as he trails his talented tongue down my shoulder then across my chest. He pushes up my shirt, staring hungrily at my naked breasts. “Perfect, beautiful tits,” he whispers with such awe it sounds like a prayer. Sucking my nipple into his warm mouth, he toys with it between his teeth and tongue.

  I kick out my legs, needing more. So much more.

  "Shhhh...I got you, Tricks."

  I groan into the night as he moves to worship my other nipple. I’m ecstatic and frustrated all at the same time.

  He lowers his mouth down my body, trailing his lips across my skin, down past my navel. When he reaches my shorts, he tugs at the button. I lift my hips, to assist him in ridding the barrier of clothing between us.

  “Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmurs. His breath creates a tingling sensation against my already sensitive and swollen clit.

  I can only nod my response because his lips are on me again, silencing my words and consuming my thoughts. He's kissing me passionately in my most intimate place, parting my pussy lips with his tongue and lapping me up like I'm the most delicious morsel he’s ever tasted. He groans against my core.

  I'm holding
onto him, for dear life, my fingers splayed in his hair to anchor him to me and me to the ground.

  Grim massages my inner thigh with one hand while he works a thick finger inside of me with the other. Gently, too gently. There is no pain, only Grim and pleasure and everything I want in the world right here between my legs. I tense as he sucks my clit into his mouth. A feeling of pure electric heat sizzles throughout my body. My insides ache as the pressure builds and builds from a spark to a raging fire.

  He lifts away slightly, teasing me by blowing softly across my wet pink folds. I shudder so hard my teeth chatter. Arching my back, I pull on his hair, greedily and shamelessly grinding myself against his perfect face. He must like my reaction, because he groans against me, fucking me with his fingers and licking me over and over again like a crazed animal. As if making me come is all that's important in this world.

  “I’m close,” I tell him, pulling his hair even harder, egging him on.

  He lets out a guttural groan, flattening his tongue against my clit, stroking it up and down and back again.

  The tension I feel within me is borderline pain, twisting me from the inside out. I'm about to burst through my own skin.

  Grim uses his teeth and lightly bites my clit before sucking it hard into his mouth one last time.

  I come apart on a roar of my own, screaming his name into the night. I contract around his tongue, coating it in a flush of wetness I can feel dripping down my ass cheeks. The pleasure smashes into me over and over again, shattering me into pieces like a hammer against glass.

  For the very first time in my life, I’m happy to be broken.

  Grim doesn’t allow me to reciprocate. Instead, he dresses me silently and helps me back to the bike. I think he’s angry or upset, so I allow him his silence.

  When we’re back in the room of the brothel, he closes the door and turns the lock.

  I remove all of my clothes until I’m standing naked in front of the bed. When he turns from the door, his eyes land on me. His lips part as he takes in my naked form.

  I raise my arms out to the side. “I’m bruised and broken. I’m battered and battle-worn. This is who I am. You won’t hurt me. I want you to take me. Just as I am.” A tear rolls down my cheek.