by Jennifer Ann
Me: Still wasn’t enough
Brooke: Beating yourself up won’t help anything. Get your mind off it or you’ll never sleep.
Me: …
Brooke: Graduation’s a month from today. What kind of cake do you want?
PICTURING her that afternoon after my birthday, swiping a finger between her frosting-covered tits and sucking it into her hot mouth, I groan and fist my dick at the base. If she was in bed with me right now, I’d destroy her tight little cunt with all I have. Won’t take much more to make me come, and she’s technically not even sexting.
BROOKE: Still there?
Me: Tell me more about this cake…
Brooke: What’s your favorite flavor?
Me: Angel food with strawberries
I BITE MY LIP, envisioning her covered in strawberries, red sticky-liquid rolling down her creamy skin. I ache to be inside of her.
BROOKE: Hold on…brb
I KNOW DAMN WELL what the three letters mean, but there’s no convincing my cock otherwise as I less than patiently wait for her to return. Bite Rook’s butt (something she’s done several times)…big round butt…boobs Rook bites…
With each dirty little thought to cross my mind, my hand strokes my shaft a little harder. She has no idea what she’s in for the second I’m out of school. Hopefully the fingerprint expert will get Trask’s case dismissed, and Sasha will go back to living with him. I’ll be free to spend as much time as I want at Brooke’s, memorizing every last nook and cranny of her beautiful body. At least once I’ve found a job and my own place to live.
We’ve been living in this fantasy world together, pretending we’re a couple when our future remains up in the air. My application to every college was accepted, and I received substantial grants that allow me the freedom to go wherever I want. I’m still not convinced it’s the right path, especially when I’m starting to hate the idea of leaving Brooke behind.
The phone buzzes with a generic ringtone. I nearly sprain my dick jumping.
Brooke’s name flashes as I slide my thumb across the screen. “Liam, come over right away!” Her voice is pinched with panic. “Tell Jordan—I don’t know—tell him he can call me or something and I’ll make up something believable—”
“Babe, you gotta slow down,” I grunt, rearranging my boxers before sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
“Sasha’s not in her room. I thought I heard something, so I went in there to check on her and she wasn’t there. I can’t find her anywhere in the apartment. She’s gone, Liam!”
Fucking hell. Sasha seemed perfectly happy earlier, and she’s told me a hundred times she loves staying with Brooke. There wouldn’t be any reason for her to run away.
“Stay right where you are and lock your fucking doors,” I tell her through clenched teeth. “Don’t open them for anyone but me.”
If King Marty had someone tailing me all this time, he’s well aware where Sasha’s staying. And that means I’ve put Brooke in danger too.
BROOKE’S ON HER TOES, ready to toss herself into my arms when her apartment door swings open. She stops with the sight of Stone lurking in the shadowed hallway behind me.
With a hesitant nod, she adjusts her glasses. “Stone.”
Then she shoves her hands into her back jeans pockets and shuffles backwards, making room for us to come inside. Though she appears to be shaken to the core, she’s as gorgeous as ever. It’s the first time since my birthday that I’ve seen her fully dressed and out of bed without her hair slicked back. My fingers burn with a need to yank on her loose curls the way I do when she gives me head.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Stone says to her, sneering when he shoves past.
When I showed up on his grandma’s doorstep to fill him in, he was ready to crack skulls the way I knew he’d be. He’s been ready for a fight over a lot less. Not only that, but he holds the record of most assaults and most time served in juvie between the four of us. He once beat a 40-year-old guy with his own cell phone after he caught the prick sneaking lewd pictures of a girl while sitting next to him on the bus.
We stopped by Sasha and Trask’s apartment and neighborhood to make sure she hadn’t gone home. Unfortunately, Stone got more riled up on the way over. He rocks on the balls of his feet, nostrils flaring, seemingly ready to kick someone’s ass. There’s no denying he’s one scary dude when he’s lit. A few times I’ve been concerned he was about to go full ham on me, and there wouldn’t be any stopping him. His mood is clearly making Brooke uncomfortable the way she’s shrinking into herself. As much as I want to comfort her, now’s not the time.
I continue past her, headed for Sasha’s room. “What time did you see her last?”
“We both went to bed after we watched a movie.” She runs to catch up with me, her voice strained with worry. “I think it was around eleven. The phone I bought her is still by her bed. She loves that thing—she doesn’t go anywhere without it.” As I’m tearing bedding off the mattress, she grabs onto my elbow. “I don’t think she’d just run off. Do you?”
“No fuckin’ way. Not unless something or someone spooked her.” Not having any clue why I came into her room, except that I needed to see for myself that she’s gone, I head to the open window and scan the empty yard. If someone came in through here to take her, they would’ve needed a ladder. “You said you heard something. What was it? A door? A window?”
“I’m not sure. It was a series of muffled thumps.”
“Could’ve been Sash trying to fight back,” Stone guesses as he’s entering the room. Thick arms folded, he leans against the doorframe. “I say we head over to King Marty’s place and ask the fucker straight to his face what he did with her.”
“Are you crazy?” Brooke spins around to face him. “You don’t just go up against someone like Marshall Blackwood, making an accusation like that! Either way you’ll be putting a fucking ‘x’ on your backs!”
Stone points at her, raising his eyebrows in my direction. Hard to say if he’s amused or pissed that a woman is standing up to him for once. “Are social workers supposed to swear like that?”
“She’s right,” I tell him, running both hands through my hair. “We need to thoroughly think this through. We can’t just run up to his front door, accusing him of shit. If he took Sasha, and I’m pretty fucking certain he did, he’s not going to bring her home where Ryker’s living. He’s too smart for that. He could’ve taken her to one of his properties.”
Brooke firmly shakes her head. “He owns half the South Side. It would take weeks to go through every single one. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“You got any better ideas, sweet cheeks?” Stone produces a smoke from inside his jacket and sets it between his lips. It pisses me off that he’s toying with Brooke when there’s bad shit going down, although that’s the kind of thing I expect from him.
“I will kick your ass if you smoke that in here,” she warns. Then her eyes dart back to mine. “We have to report her as missing…let the cops handle it.”
A small part of me’s ready to wring her little neck for being so reckless. “And tell them what? That you were hiding her from your own agency, and now we think Marshall Blackwood kidnapped her? How far do you think any of that’ll get you?”
“Her life could be in grave danger, Liam.” Frustration shines bright in her big eyes when her eyebrows crease with a deep frown. “Her safety’s more important than a stupid job!”
I step forward and grab her arm hard enough to get my point across. “We’re talking about your safety, too. I won’t let you get involved in this any more than you already have.”
Her other hand clamps down on my wrist. “You brought her into my life, and made me give a damn. You don’t get to tell me that I have to walk away now.”
“What’s this, kids?” Stone calls out dramatically over the click of his lighter. “It’s like I’ve walked in on a lover’s quarrel. Somethin’ you wanna share, Rook?”
“Stay the fuck outta this, Stone!” I bark over my shoulder
without tearing my gaze away from Brooke. “And go smoke that fucking thing outside!”
He grumbles some smart-assed comment to himself as the sound of his footsteps and the odor of his cigarette fade off into the hallway.
“You counted on me to protect her,” Brooke whispers, tears filling her eyes. “I failed you both.”
“Bullshit.” Grabbing a handful of hair on the back of her head, I nudge her into my arms and squeeze them tightly around her. She slumps into my hold, her little body shaking with violent cries. “Don’t blame yourself for this, baby.” I kiss the side of her head and rub my hand over the back of her neck. Watching her break is like being stabbed through the heart. “It’s my fault for bringing her to Jordan’s. If I had listened to you and kept him out of it—”
“You can’t blame yourself either.” She hiccups with another sob, her wet face still pressed against my chest. “You brought her to me because she’s a part of your family. You’d never do anything to hurt her.”
“We’ll figure out a way to get her back,” I promise, tipping her chin with my finger until I can peer directly into her wet eyes. Christ, she appears so delicate like this that I can hardly stand it without wanting to bust something up. “She’s going to be okay. King Marty wants her as a way to control Trask without getting his hands dirty. If she’s dead, he loses his leverage. This is his way of getting Trask’s undivided attention before the trial starts tomorrow. Whatever’s going on between them, King Marty doesn’t want Trask getting out.”
Lifting a hand to my jaw, her thumb traces back and forth across my cheek. “I fucking hate that I can’t save you and Sasha the way I want.” Her voice cracks as more tears begin to fall. “I feel so goddamned helpless.”
“You’ve already saved me, baby. More than you realize.”
I kiss her hard, wanting to stop her tears. She opens her mouth to let me in, filling me with their salty flavor when her tongue slides with mine. It’s too easy to be myself with her. I could lose all control, let it all out while sinking into her, and she’d let it happen. Can’t say I’ve ever wanted anything more. The part of me that’s been rejected by everyone I ever loved is cautious of where this thing could lead, while a bigger part’s at peace when she’s near.
Soon she’s nudging me back with a sad little smile, hands still wrapped around my neck, lips slightly swollen. “What did you tell Jordan?”
“Nothing. I snuck out my window.”
Her tongue clicks with a stern scold. “You better get back there before he finds out you’re gone.”
Lifting one shoulder, I pull a strand of hair away from her face and lock it between my fingers. I’ve never met a woman who was this soft everywhere, or smelled so tempting. Something about her as a whole calls to my darkest desires, as if she’s everything I ever wanted. “What’s he gonna do? I’m an adult.”
She watches her fingertips trace my bottom lip. “You’re still under the state’s supervision. If he thinks you’re out messing around, he’ll expect me to report you for violating the agreement.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone.” I nudge her fingers aside and brush our lips together one last time. I stop and breathe heavily against her mouth. “Convince him I had somewhere important to be.”
With the sound of her front door opening, she jumps back. While it’s a little late to pretend nothing’s going on around Stone the way my stubble irritated her lips, I respect her decision to keep it classy. She’s not some jock’s girlfriend looking to fool around.
I’m more worried that someone other than Stone let themselves in. How the hell can she expect me simply to return to Jordan’s like nothing happened?
“Stay put,” I order, pointing at her before heading into the hallway.
Stone’s shaking his head when I find him cutting through the kitchen. “You’re one smooth asshole. Fucking your social worker to make her an ally? At least she’s one smokin’ hot piece of ass.”
Rage pricks beneath my skin. With that kind of mouth, he’s going to expose us to the wrong kind of people. I charge at him, slamming him up against the fridge and locking my forearm over his windpipe. He’s known as the crazy one, but I spend more time lifting. I could easily kick his ass into next week.
“You didn’t see shit tonight, understand me? If she loses her job, or King Marty’s guys go after her next, I’m going to assume it’s because you opened your big mouth around Ryker, and I’ll be putting a bullet in your head.”
Entire head turning a dark shade of red as I cut off his circulation, he barks with a laugh. “When’d you start giving a shit about who you’re banging?”
“It’s different with her.”
“What…like you’re in love with her or somethin’? You gonna ask her to marry your homeless ass?”
Staring into his homicidal glare, I scoff. For weeks this thing with her has become vital to my sanity, and the way she makes me feel is unlike anything I’ve experienced with anyone. I just haven’t stopped to put a label on it. Besides, it could never lead to anything real. He’s right—I’m dirt poor and without a fucking home. She deserves someone who can take care of her, buy her nice things and a decent house. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be dead before I’m twenty. There’s nothing I can offer to someone with a college degree and a decent job.
“Fuck off.” With my stomach surging, I release Stone on a snarl. “Go home. I’ll decide what we’re gonna do next before we meet at the courthouse in the morning.”
His eyebrows wiggle. “You havin’ a sleepover?”
“Get the hell out before I beat your ass,” I warn, on the verge of tossing him through a wall.
“Whatever you say, brother.” Hands held up at his sides, he laughs with a smoker’s cough as he makes his way out.
Brooke meets me in the hallway, eyebrows knitted, jaw slack. There seems to be something important on the tip of her tongue that she’s hesitant to say aloud. She could’ve overheard Stone, and wants to tell me what we had was over.
“I’m spending the night,” I tell her in a firm tone. “King Marty’s men could be coming back for you next. I’ll tell Jordan I had to help Stone take care of his grandma or something. You can message him with the same story, say you somehow confirmed it.”
With a little huff, she crosses her arms under her breasts. I can see in the way her eyes glow that there’s a part of her that’s pleased, as if she secretly wished she could ask me to stay. With any luck, it means she’s becoming addicted to having me around too. “There’s no way I can convince you to leave, is there?”
“Not as long as you’re in danger.”
Running her tongue over her lips, she concedes with an understanding nod.
Although it’s inappropriate timing to get aroused, I’m harder than a rock. And I can’t help but think sharing a bed with her curled up at my side may be the best night of sleep I’ve had since birth.
10
BROOKE
Sunlight filters through my thin curtains, highlighting the beautiful bare ass cheeks on the man at my side. My mouth waters with the urge to take a big old bite of the solid humps, firm with muscle. It’s not like it’d be the first time. For someone who refused to get involved with a former client, and went months without sex before he came along, I’ve become remarkably insatiable for Liam Rooker.
With the playlist of rock ballads he made for me still playing quietly on repeat from my portable speaker, I lean my head on my hand, feasting on the impressive curves of his body. They’re no longer marred with ugly bruises at the hand of his old man. The counselor at his school told me his father wouldn’t pay for him to participate in any sports. He likes to stay in shape regardless, using a barbell and several free weights brought over from his apartment. Sometimes during our late night conversations, he grunts while doing pushups. Before that, I wasn’t aware ear porn was a thing. With a perfectly defined body like his, he likely would’ve excelled in football. I hate thinking he only stayed in shape all this time to finally stand
up against his old man.
Hundreds of his female classmates would be sick with envy if they knew the glorious sight before me. For a sickening moment, I’m reminded of the only other eighteen-year-old I slept with—Matthew. He wasn’t anything near as attractive or charming as Liam, or an ounce as brave. Skinny, light blond hair, crooked teeth, and the ability to weasel his way out of anything were his prominent features. His parents were both crackheads who OD’d together when he was a toddler. He spent his life bouncing from home to home, finding vulnerable young girls to dominate. I wasn’t his first victim, although I’ve prayed endless times that I was his last.
Liam wouldn’t hesitate to make Matthew pay if given the opportunity. His feelings go far beyond those involved in a fling, as do mine. Because of it, I haven’t been able to stop pondering what lies ahead. I’ve invested both my life and heart into making him happy. But what’s best for him isn’t necessarily what’s right for me.
As easy as it would be to let him move in, he deserves a fresh start as far from the South Side as humanly possible. If I were to allow him to stay, he’ll only get sucked into old habits with his friends. And with his best friend being King Marty’s nephew, there’s no escaping the South Side ways even if he tried. That shit will always stay with him as long as he’s around.
If he decides to accept one of the full rides he’s been offered, or even pursue his dream to play in a headlining band, I need to let him go. Permanently. Trying to maintain a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be fair to him or the hundreds of girls who would want a piece of him, whether it be on stage or in a classroom. Just because I didn’t make it very far doesn’t mean he should get tethered here along with me.
I’m convinced he has what it takes to become a rockstar. Whenever I get to watch him play the bass, eyes drunk with the music and fingers expertly working the strings, it’s easy to picture him playing for the masses. He was born with a sexy swagger and soul-penetrating eyes. Hell, if he stayed on with Stone and Ryker, they’d be unstoppable. But I think they’re all afraid to plan for the band’s future knowing it may not involve their drummer.
