by BL Mute
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, you have a point, but what if it doesn’t happen like that? You need a backup plan, Lydia.”
“If the time comes, I’ll worry about it then. For now, let’s just act like everything is fine, okay? I need everything to be fine.”
“But everything isn’t fine.” I lower my voice to a whisper.
“Just—” She cuts herself off like she’s thinking. “Just stay with me for a bit. I don’t want to be alone.”
I exhale a breath. This could be my last moment with her. The cops could come banging on her door and haul her away within hours if they figure everything out. “Okay,” I finally reply, defeated.
She nods with a tight smile. “Thank you.”
I follow her as she puts her cigarette out and crawls into the bed, then flips on the TV. Heartbreakers starts to play, and all I can think is now I’m an accomplice.
CHAPTER ONE
CARMEN
Six Months Later
One hundred and eighty some odd days. That’s how long it’s been since Lydia confessed Malcolm’s murder to me. I still don’t know exactly how it happened, or the gritty details, but I don’t want to. I don’t need to. I’ve been nothing but a good friend and acted like everything is normal, exactly how she asked.
Luckily, I think she was right though. At this point, everyone has forgotten about Malcolm McLane, and no one in town is any the wiser. Lydia knows only because she was part of the investigation. What police thought of as an accident quickly turned into suspicion of murder, then bam. As soon as the laptop was found, it bounced back and was labeled a terrible accident, and everyone went on with their lives.
I do my best not to think about it because I don’t feel there is a point. Sure, it sucks, but at the same time, I would never give Lydia up. Maybe one day I may need her to keep a secret for me too. Who knows?
As I pull into my drive, I see the garage open and my dad’s Mercedes, his everyday driver, parked inside. “Great.”
I’ve been fortunate enough that he’s been on more trips than usual. He calls them business trips, but I know what they are. He has a different woman in every city along the coast. Sure, some of the trips he makes are for business—to make sure things are running smoothly and in order—but not all of them.
I kill the ignition once I’m in park and step out. If I’m lucky, he won’t see me if I go through the front. When I make it to the front door, I lean against it and see if I can hear him inside. Not even two seconds pass before William’s voice is pouring out through the intercom.
“He’s already seen you, Carmen. Come in and have dinner.”
I stare right at the camera by the door and roll my eyes, then flip it off. I know William means well, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I push open the door, then step through the foyer and into the dining room. You would think for a family of three, we would only need something small, but Dad is all about the dramatics and flaunting his cash. In the center of the room is a sixteen-foot-long mahogany table with fourteen matching chairs. One on each end and six on each side. It’s a table meant for entertaining, but it’s never seen more than me, my dad, and William.
“Mija.” My dad smiles, his thick accent coating the word.
I salute him. “Alexander.”
He shakes his head with the click of his tongue. I know he hates when I use his name and not Dad, but I feel it’s only appropriate.
“How is school?” he asks, playing the role of good father, but that’s all it is and all it’s ever been. An act.
I glance at William, who is standing at the end of the table, acting like he’s not listening when I know he is. He shakes his head with a small smile. “Sir, she graduated last May. She’s been done with school for months now.”
I pull the chair out directly across from him and plop down. “Yep.” I pop the p. “What he said.”
My dad nods, looking down to the plate in front of him. “I’ve been so busy with work. I’m sorry.”
I roll my eyes and take a swig from the crystal water glass positioned to the top right side of my plate. “You’re always busy. Don’t sweat it.” I brush him off. It’s always excuses or fake apologies with him, and I’d rather not hear it.
He nods again, then grabs the napkin from his lap. He wipes nonexistent crumbs from his goatee, then places it on his plate—still full of food—and clears his throat. “About that…”
“Here we go,” I mumble, knowing he’s about to go on a tangent about having to leave, even if he just got back. Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck less. I’m used to it. The excuses and explanations aren’t necessary.
“I have to leave again tomorrow morning. I’m heading to Miami to hopefully secure a new location. I was hoping you would come?”
I glance up from my plate and swallow hard. “What?”
“I want you to—”
I hold up my hand. “No. I heard you, but why?”
He shrugs. “I thought it may be nice to show you what I do while I’m gone. You are going to take over once I’m gone, after all.”
“Take over?” I let out a barking laugh. “What’s my favorite color, Dad?”
He seems thrown off by my question, but I just cross my arms and never let my stare waver. “Pink?” It’s more of a question than an answer.
I stand and let out a chuckle, trying to hide the hurt that’s building in my chest. “Black. It’s black. If you think I’m taking over your company when you can’t even tell me my favorite color, you’re delusional. Bet you don’t even know my birthday.” I push in my chair and wait, seeing if he’ll try and guess.
I stare at him and cross my arms. He searches my face, but the answers he’s looking for won’t be there. I’ve grown accustomed to hiding my feelings, but clearly he hasn’t. The look of disgust he feels for me lingers under the surface of the fake, sad mask he’s put in place.
“December, sir,” William whispers lowly, but with so much space and not enough furniture or bodies, his words echo around the room softly.
“Stop it, William. I asked him.” I point to my dad while keeping my eyes on William.
William shoots his eyes to the floor and mouths, Sorry.
“My point is made. I have better things to do than learn the ropes of your company.” I leave the dining room without another word and go straight up the stairs and into my room.
I’d like to say my own father not even knowing my birthday doesn’t hurt, but it does. I’m part of him. His blood runs through me, and he can’t even remember the day I was born. Hell, he’s never even tried to spend time with me until now.
I close my door behind me and slump against it until I hit the floor. For so long I’ve told myself it doesn’t matter, but not being wanted by a parent is worse than heartbreak. It’s the deepest kind of pain I’ve ever felt.
I pick myself up and walk to my nightstand. I slide open the drawer and grab the old cigarette pack I keep my joints and lighter in. Pulling one out, I spark it before I even make it to my window. I perch myself on the seal and push it open.
The shit with my dad serves as nothing more than a distraction from the shit with Lydia. Although I try to keep those thoughts at the back of my mind, they always seem to seep into my head and take over.
I need a better distraction… One that doesn’t involve fucked-up families.
I pull my phone from my pocket and hit the number I always seem to dial in times like this.
After a few rings, his voice pours out from the other side. “Hey, baby.”
I smile. “Bradley. I need to see you.”
Bradley knows me. The me I don’t show anyone. The one where I’m vulnerable and small. He gets me and doesn’t pry. I shouldn’t lead him on because I know he wants more, but I can’t help it.
He’s the only one who understands my desperate need for an escape—for lust and sex—and he so willingly gives it to me without asking questions. After all the shit with Lydia and Carter, we were bo
th stuck in a fucked-up position. Sure, we knew the consequences going in, but we didn’t know the extent they would go. We didn’t sign up to help with a murder.
So, we push it away and fuck instead. We clear our minds by evoking pleasure from each other.
“I can be there in ten,” he remarks, and I can hear the smile in his voice, which pulls a smile of my own to my lips.
“I’ll be in the greenhouse.” He and I don’t require a lot of talking, so I hang up before he can reply.
I snub the end of my joint out and stand from my windowsill. I suck in another breath, then release it, willing every bad emotion I have to go with it.
When I make it to my nightstand, I stuff my half-smoked joint back into the cigarette pack and open my door. I can’t hear the echoing of conversation from my dad and William from downstairs, so hopefully they’ve gone about their way. Dad never sticks around us long anyway.
I slip into the hall and start down the stairs. Once I make it to the bottom, I pause again. It’s still silent. Exiting the front door, I close it softly behind me, then walk across the front of my house, turn the corner, then start toward the greenhouse in the back.
It’s the only place here that doesn’t have cameras. The only place I feel I can get privacy. I disabled the ones on my floor almost as quickly as Dad put them in, but he’s sneaky. For all I know, he probably has ten more set up for the four I broke.
The greenhouse comes into view, and a sense of relief washes over me. This is my happy place. An entire structure made of glass that still manages to shield me from my dad’s prying eyes and ears. He’d never be caught dead out here. He’s too proud.
As I enter, the air changes and my shoulders relax. It’s cooler since there are fans positioned above every few feet, but the heat from the setting sun still peeks inside and kisses my skin. I walk down the aisle in the center, letting my hands brush the leaves of each plant I pass. There is something so peaceful about here. I can breathe easier.
When I make it to the other end of the aisle, the door creaks open and Bradley steps inside. Butterflies erupt inside my stomach. Not the kind of butterflies you get when you love someone, but the kind that comes when you’re excited. And that’s what I am—that’s what Bradley makes me. Excited.
I flash him a smile, then turn and saunter back toward him. As I stop in front of him, his arms reach out and wrap around my waist. “I’ve missed you.”
I tip my head, giving him access to my throat, then clamp my arms around his neck. “How much?”
He leans down and bites my neck, then turns me around quickly. With one arm still firmly around my waist, he uses the other to clear the table beside us. Gloves, scissors, and discarded plant parts clatter to the floor. He pushes the front of my body to the table, the edge of it digging into my stomach painfully, but I don’t protest. It helps me focus on the here and now, not the shit from the past swirling in my head.
“So fucking much.” He hisses behind me, pushing his chest into my back. His soft hands trail my arms, then my sides, all the way to my thighs.
I feel his presence leave me all for three seconds before he’s back, leaning into me and holding a small foil packet in front of my face. I take it with my teeth and tear it open, then flip so I’m facing him. I let my eyes drag down his body, starting with his face.
His hooded eyes burn into me as his square jaw ticks. “Slip it on, baby.” More butterflies take flight with what he calls me.
I give him another smirk, then move my eyes to his sculpted abs and drop to my knees as I pull the condom from its wrapper. Once I make it to the waist of his jeans, I jut my chin, telling him to pull them down. He obeys, pushing them down his thighs slowly, letting his cock spring to life without the confinements of his clothes.
It looks at me—precum oozing from its head—then twitches as I move to grab it. I grip the base with one hand and use the other to place the condom in my mouth, making sure the band of it sits in front of my teeth.
I glance up and see Bradley staring down on me with lust-filled eyes, and it makes my pussy clench. He gathers all my hair in one hand, then braces himself with the other as I lower my mouth onto his length. He’s warm and thick, filling my entire mouth the lower I go.
I use my tongue to roll the last bit into place, then make my way back up, flicking my tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock as I go. With only the tip left in my mouth, he drops my hair and drags me back to my feet by my shoulders.
“I need to be inside of you.” I moan in response and relax my body so he can take control.
He grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me, planting my ass firmly on the unsanded wooden table. In one swift motion, he hooks his fingers into the waist of my leggings and pulls them down along with my panties. Usually, things are more drawn out, but right now, I need fast. Fast, dirty, and fucking rough. So, I shimmy, lifting my hips just enough for him to pull my leggings all the way down, then flip onto my stomach.
His big hands grip my ass and knead my flesh, spreading me wide before he spits and lets it run down to my slit. “What do you want, Carmen?” he asks, using a finger to spread his saliva all over my most sensitive spot.
“You” is all I can manage to get out.
He continues working my slit from behind for a moment—running the tip of his finger from my clit down to my hole—before finally slipping a single digit inside. My pussy squeezes, wanting more than he’s giving. “I need more,” I breathe, moving my hands to grip the edge of the table.
He pumps into me one more time, then slips another finger inside. I buck my hips in response, moving them back and forth, fucking his hand. “That’s it. Fuck my hand.”
His words urge me on, so I keep going as he slips another inside. The fullness still doesn’t fulfill me, and I think he knows. He removes his fingers, then moves so his cock is lined up with my entrance. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he pushes inside of me.
His hands move to my hips. “I’ve missed this pussy,” he remarks before grabbing me even harder and pulling me back so he’s fully inside.
Slowly, my pussy contorts around him, adjusting to his size. Instead of thrusting his hips, he moves me back and forth, forcing my body to rock against him. My shirt rides up, exposing my breasts, and the wooden table under me scrapes against my nipples, sending small jolts of pain throughout my chest. It only adds to my pleasure though.
I’m not sure if it’s all the emotions or the overwhelming pleasure, but I’m already so close to the edge. I want to explode and let myself release everything I’ve been holding inside. To let go of the pain, the anger, the sadness.
“I’m going to come.”
He chuckles as he continues rocking me back and forth. “You didn’t ask.”
“Please!” I beg. I need this release. I need something that isn’t complicated right now.
“Please what?” He stills, and I can feel the buildup dwindling inside me.
“Please let me come!”
He lets go of my hips and leans over me. His warm breath hits my ear as he speaks. “Come, then, baby. Come all over my dick.”
I push myself up, forcing him to stand, then turn around. I grab his shoulders and guide him to the table, switching our positions. Once he’s seated, I climb up and straddle his hips with my ankles. I squat lower until the tip of his cock pokes at my entrance.
“Fuck,” he hisses, throwing his head back.
I smile, then lower myself further. Once he’s completely inside of me again, I let myself adjust, then start moving. I bounce up and down, over and over, until the pressure in my core builds again. This time, I have the control. I explode all around him and scream his name.
His head snaps back up, and his eyes lock onto me. I move to my knees, keeping him inside of me, then lean over. He grabs my hips again and holds me so I’m hovering over him. As my orgasm continues to rack my body, he thrusts up, finding his own release.
When he comes, I can feel his dick pulse inside of me, stro
king the last bit of my own release. Once it slows, I roll off him. “God, I needed that.”
He moves his arm and clutches my thigh before I’m able to get up from the table. “You okay, Carmen?” Concern laces his features, and I can’t bear to see it, so I look away.
“I’m fine.” I smile, pushing his hand away so I can stand.
I find my discarded leggings and step into them as he starts to speak behind me. “We need to talk.”
I turn and tip my head as I watch him stand and put his pants back on. “That doesn’t sound very good,” I chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh.
He finally drags his eyes back to me. “I’m moving back to my parents’ place. I found a job opportunity I can’t pass up.”
Ouch.
“You’re—you’re leaving? When?”
He nods. “Tomorrow. Which is why I’m glad you called. I was just going to stop by on my way out.”
“Stop on your way out? Am I not even worth a proper goodbye?”
He lets out a sigh, then moves closer, wrapping me in a bear hug. “Carmen, you’re the one who made it clear we’re nothing but fuck buddies. I tried to make you more than that, but you didn’t want it. I took what you would give. You can’t be mad at me for only treating you like a friend when that’s all you said we were.”
I want to be angry, but I can’t. He’s right. I’m the one who wouldn’t let us go any further, and I’m not mad about that. I’m more upset that he’s going to be gone. No more sex. No more escape. No more… comfortable.
“I know, I just… I don’t know. I guess I’ll miss you.”
“You guess?” He grabs my chin with a chuckle and tips it until my eyes are looking into his. “You know damn well you’re going to miss this cock.” He kisses the corner of my mouth before dropping his hand and stepping back.
I shake my head. “Fine. I am.”
It isn’t a lie. I am going to miss him, but I don’t think it’s for the same reasons he’s thinking. Bradley is my safe place. Somewhere I can run when life gets to be too much. That’s what I’m going to miss.
