by Naomi Martin
Xavier wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly to him as we ride out the current of ecstasy that’s pulling us along. Slowly, his cock softens and slips out of me along with a rush of his fluid, spilling out over my thighs. I revel in the feeling of it, revel in the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. And of his large, hard body that engulfs me. It makes me feel safe. Protected. Like nothing can harm me, so long as Xavier is with me.
We lay there in silence. No words seem necessary—or we just don’t have them to describe what we experienced together. He’s a generous lover. One who seems to put my pleasure above his own and does everything he can to please me. Not that the other boys don’t, but with Xavier, it’s somehow different. It’s more intensely personal with him.
I guess the best way to describe it is that it’s not fucking. It’s not just sex. With Xavier, it’s genuinely making love. There is so much passion, so much emotion with him that there are no other words for it. At least, not to my mind.
I snuggle closer to him, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, though, the darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision and, with Xavier still clutching me to him protectively, in my near euphoric state, I fall into a deep and blissful sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“So wait, you scored a hat trick? Hit the big trifecta?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help laughing. “Seriously, Katie, can you think of a cruder way to describe it?”
She screws up her face for a moment then grins. “Yeah, actually I could.”
“Spare me. Please.”
It’s a beautiful, unseasonably warm day so we’re sitting on the patio behind Patty’s, enjoying a couple of milkshakes. I’ve just told her about my exploits with the boys and she’s reacting about how I expected—with intense mockery. It’s all in good fun, though, and I know that. Katie isn’t judging me for sleeping with all of them. Hell, she practically encouraged it.
Her laughter fades and her expression turns serious. “So, who do you like the best—and not just for the sex?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I like them all. I mean, each of them has something really special about him. Something that really connects with me. On a deep level, I’m talking.”
She nods as if she understands, though I don’t know how she possibly could. Not when I don’t even understand it myself. I sigh and lean back in my seat, staring up toward the sky to see the soaring pines, smell the sweet blend of salt air and earthy forest that I’m coming to love. I didn’t think it was possible when we first moved to Sapphire Bay, but here we are all the same.
“It’s impossible for me to make a choice,” I say. “I like them all. Maybe even… more.”
Her eyes widen in surprise as she looks at me. “Are you talking love? You love them all?”
“I don’t know, Katie. I just know that I feel strongly for each of them,” I tell her. “I feel things for them I’ve never felt for anybody before. It’s all just so… confusing.”
“I can’t even imagine,” she says.
I sigh and take a sip of my shake as images of all three boys drift through my mind. The memory of their touch, the taste of them, the feel of them inside of me sends waves of pleasure washing over my body, warming me from the inside out.
“So, who says you have to make a decision?” Katie asks.
“What do you mean?”
She gives me a devious smirk. “Don’t decide. Or, at least, make the decision to be with all three of them,” she states. “I know I joked about it before, but maybe it’s worth thinking about more… seriously.”
I look at her closely for a moment. “You’re not joking.”
She shakes her head. “Not even a little bit.”
I laugh nervously. “Katie, that’s crazy.”
“Why? You’re a feminist, right?”
“Well, yeah. Of course.”
“And you have a more liberated point of view about your sexuality, correct?”
I nod. “I own my sexuality—or, at least, I do my best.”
Katie takes a long sip of her shake and leans forward, holding me with her gaze.
“Who says a relationship has to be completely binary, anyway?” she asks. “Society, that’s who. And I know you’re not a big fan of upholding societal norms.”
I laugh. “Not really, no.”
“So? What’s the issue, then?” she presses. “If you care about all three of them and can’t make a decision, don’t.”
I’m frankly a little shocked to hear this coming from Katie’s mouth. She’s a little more traditional and conservative about things than I tend to be. I imagine she gets that from her dad and how she grew up. I like to think I’m having something of a positive influence on her—at least, as far as owning her sexuality and being her own person. Maybe being with Danny is helping open her mind to new experiences.
Of course, now that the chips are down and I’m possibly in a position to put my own feminist philosophies to the test, I find myself balking. It surprises me, because I’ve held to the belief that nobody has the right to tell me what is right for me—especially when it comes to my sexuality and my relationships. Now, though, I find myself kind of clinging to a more traditional view of relationships and sex. A more binary view of them—which in theory, goes against every principle I hold dear.
“It’s an interesting thought,” I muse.
“But?”
I shake my head. “But nothing. It just gives me a lot to think about.”
“I’m surprised you have to think about it.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that makes two of us.”
She gives me an encouraging smile, but it’s one I can’t return. My mind is literally spinning with the possibilities and different scenarios that, on paper, sound good, but in practice might be… problematic. How am I going to explain to my dad that I’m with three different guys?
“Oh, shit.” I gasp and look at my watch. “My dad’s coming home tonight and I should probably be there.”
“Need to make sure your panties aren’t hanging from the chandelier?” She grins.
I laugh. “We don’t even have a chandelier. Walk you to your street?”
She shakes her head. “I’m meeting Danny here in a bit, actually.”
“Well, have a good night, then,” I say. “And don’t go doing anything I wouldn’t do.”
She quirks her mouth at me. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”
I laugh as I get to my feet and take off, wanting to get home before my dad to clean things up and make sure my panties aren’t actually somewhere they shouldn’t be.
* * * * *
“Oh, well, that sucks,” I say.
“Yeah, things went sideways here, and they need me to stay a couple more days,” he replies. “I’m sorry, honey.”
I drop my bag on the counter and pace the kitchen with the phone pressed to my ear. My dad called the minute I came through the door to tell me he wasn’t coming home tonight after all. Outside, night has fallen, and the world beyond the windows is completely dark. Knowing my dad isn’t coming home tonight and that I’ll be alone here again is making the shadows outside seem thicker and more ominous. The feeling that something malevolent is pressing at the doors, doing what it can to get in weighs down on me, squeezing the air from my lungs.
“No, it’s okay. It’s work,” I say. “I mean, what are you gonna do?”
He sighs. “Are you going to be okay there?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I try to project as much confidence as I can into my voice.
“Can Katie stay with you tonight?”
“I’ll give her a call,” I reply. “But don’t stress, Dad, I’ll be fine.”
There’s a pause on the line and I hear him sigh again. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am. Now, go do… whatever it is they have you doing.”
He laughs. “I can give you a detailed breakdown of—”
“Hard pass. But thanks.”
“O
kay, give Katie a call.”
“I will.”
“All right. Goodnight, honey,” he says. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
I disconnect the call and realize my hand is trembling. I stand perfectly still, leaning against the kitchen counter as I take several deep, steadying breaths, and let them out slowly.
“Get a grip on yourself, Tatum. You’re a big girl.”
A floorboard upstairs creaks, sending an electric bolt of fear shooting through me.
“It’s the house settling. That’s all it is. Calm down.”
I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and unscrew the cap, listening to the house as I take a long swallow of the cool liquid. After that, I go through the first floor of the house, turning on all of the lights and locking every door and window—then double-checking them, just to be sure they’re locked.
I stand in the foyer, looking up at the second-floor landing. I haven’t worked up the nerve to go up there yet, so it remains dark. The inky shadows beckon me. Taunt me. Scare me. I know I need to go up and turn on the lights, but I can’t will my feet to move up the stairs.
Putting it off for the moment, I walk back into the kitchen and finish off the bottle of water. I think about calling Katie, but I don’t want to ruin her night with Danny.
I war with myself inside my mind. I’m eighteen years old. An adult, legally speaking. And despite that, I’m afraid of staying home alone in the house for a couple of nights? I remind myself it’s not without cause—especially now that I know Renee wasn’t behind the things that have happened. Which leaves some mystery person out there who may or may not be pulling a prank and trying to scare me.
It’s all of the unknowns that are killing me right now.
That’s how I justify the fact that I’m going to call and ask for some company tonight. I pick up my phone and stare at it for a moment. I know that Xavier and Lucas both have plans tonight. Ryan, though, he said he had a workout tonight but wasn’t doing anything after. Without giving myself a chance to talk myself out of it, I call him and press the phone to my ear. He answers on the second ring.
“Well, hey, gorgeous.”
“Hey, what are you doing?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, as if he’s taken aback by my blunt non-greeting. I don’t mean to be so abrupt, but I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I’m good,” I say. “I was just wondering what you were doing tonight.”
“You, if I’m lucky.” He laughs, but it sounds uncertain.
His joke falls flat with me. “I need you tonight.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
He’s trying his best to be flirty, but I’m really not in the mood right now. Ryan finally seems to pick up on my less-than-playful vibe and clears his throat, adopting a more normal, serious tone.
“What’s going on, Tatum? You sound off.”
“My dad called. He’s not coming home tonight and I—”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
I glance at the time on my phone and shudder. Half an hour means he won’t be here until close to eight. Under the circumstances, I guess beggars can’t be choosers.
“That would be great, Ryan. I’d really appreciate it.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll explain it all when you get here. I promise.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Yeah. See you soon.”
I click off the call and put my phone back into my purse, leaving it on the counter as I try to clear my mind. I take a long breath and let it out slowly, doing my best to calm my nerves. I know I need to go upstairs, but I’m afraid to.
“Suck it up, Tatum. You can do this.”
I feel silly as I ascend the stairs, taking them slowly and one at a time. I cringe as they creak under my feet, somehow sure the noise is going to draw every psycho murderer in a hundred-mile radius. I make it to the second-floor landing and quickly turn on the hallway light. Seeing that it’s empty and there’s nobody standing there with a chainsaw, waiting for me, I let out a long, shaking breath.
I laugh to myself, shaking my head. “I am such an idiot. A big, crybaby idiot.”
I make my way through the rooms upstairs, and with each one I find empty, I feel a little more childish and immature. I’m a big girl. I should be able to stay home alone. Lots of girls a lot younger than me do it all the time.
I finally walk into my room and flip on the light—and freeze. My heart stops dead in my chest and a small squeak of fright passes my lips. My window is standing wide open, and I know for certain that I closed and locked it when I left the house today. But what makes me feel like I’ve just had a bucket of ice water dumped over my head is the manila envelope is sitting on my bed, propped up by my pillows. My name is scrawled on the front in big, dark letters.
I spin around, expecting to see somebody sneaking up on me from behind. The hallway is still empty, but it somehow doesn’t make me feel any better. My mind is screaming at me to run. To get out of the house and get over to Katie’s house—to let her father deal with this. It’s his job. It’s what he does.
But I’ve already dragged him over here once for no reason. What if this is just somebody’s idea of a sick joke? Somebody like Renee. After Xavier and I questioned her about screwing with me, maybe she decided it might be fun to scare me, after all. Maybe she left an envelope on my bed knowing it would freak me out. Or maybe she lied about not being involved in the first place and has been behind this all along.
Swallowing hard, I summon my courage and step into my room, keeping a close eye on the gap between the floor and the bottom of my bed, staying alert just in case somebody is hiding underneath it. I make it to the window, closing and locking it quickly. Nobody reached out from under the bed to grab me, so I assume I’m safe on that front.
My hand is shaking wildly as I pick up the envelope. I undo the clasp and reach inside, pulling out a stack of photographs. I flip through them, my eyes growing wider with each successive shot I see.
“What in the hell?”
They’re all pictures of me. Shots of me at Patty’s. At school. On the field when I was trying out for the team. There are even pictures apparently shot through the front windows of me having sex with Lucas on the couch downstairs.
My stomach roils and it’s all I can do to keep from throwing up right then and there. Whoever took these pictures has been watching me for a while now. I’ve never felt so violated and terrified all at the same time in all my life.
I’m only halfway through the stack of photos—there has to be more than a hundred in my hand—when the doorbell rings. I let out a sharp shriek and jump at the sound.
“Ryan,” I croak.
Turning on my heel, my heart hammering a drunken beat in my chest, I sprint toward the stairs. He knocks on the door and I bound down the steps.
“Just a second,” I shout.
At the bottom of the stairs, I turn to the left and dash into the kitchen. I realize I’m still clutching the stack of photos and toss them on the counter. They go skittering across the granite, some hitting the floor. I ignore it as I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder, across my body.
All I want to do is get out of here. Have Ryan take us somewhere else. Someplace safe. I want to get out of here and see if we can figure out what in the hell is going on.
I run back into the foyer, unlocking and throwing open the door. But Ryan isn’t there. The man standing on the front step is just a silhouette. A shadow, and I can’t make out any of his features. I open my mouth to scream and he quickly reaches out and grabs me, smothering me by putting a rag over my face. The smell is cloying and I try not to breathe, but I feel like I’m suffocating and I draw in a deep breath anyway. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision and the last thing I remember is feel
ing a sensation like I’m falling from a great height.
And then, the world goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I see flashes in the darkness. Snippets. The man at the door—at least the silhouette of the man. Not Ryan. I see a white rag. Can still feel the soft fibers against my face and smell that sickly cloying odor. I remember looking out of a car window. I feel movement. I’m being driven somewhere. I see the vast expanse of the ocean beyond the window. I see trees and lights flashing by. I remember seeing the lights of a ship far out at sea. I rack my brain for more, but it’s like digging in a dry well. And then, the darkness pulls me under again.
The next time I come to, the first thing I become aware of is the throbbing inside my skull. It feels like I’ve got a caged animal in my head trying to batter its way out. The second thing is that I am sitting in complete darkness. I know my eyes are open, but it’s as if I’ve been dropped into a deprivation tank, a place devoid of all sensory input. And the third is that I’m seated on a hard wooden chair—my butt is practically numb. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, how long it’s been since he took me.
Somewhere behind me, I hear what sounds like the creak of a door opening and closing. But it’s muffled, like I’m hearing it from underwater. Or like I have cotton stuffed in my ears. I try to yawn, forcing my ears to pop. It takes a few tries, but they finally do and I can hear again. I hear the steady thump of footsteps and realize what I’m hearing is somebody walking around in another room. I also realize the reason I’m in complete darkness is that there is a bag of some kind over my head that’s blotting out whatever light may be in the room.
The darkness closes in around me again, wanting to pull me back into its warm embrace, but I fight it off. I try to stand up and find that I can’t. I panic, fearing that my limbs aren’t working—it takes me a couple of minutes to figure out that I’m actually tied down to the chair I’m in. I struggle and strain to no avail. It feels like my wrists and ankles are held with plastic zip ties.
Panic is threatening to overwhelm me as I continue to struggle with my bonds, knowing it’s not going to do me any good. Behind me, I hear the door to the room I’m in open. It swings inward, banging into the wall behind it, the sound of the impact echoing around what I assume is an empty space.
