Credence

by Penelope Douglas

  Neither of my kids have ever wanted to stay with me, and after tonight, I wouldn’t blame them for hating me. They’re not going to marry her or fall in love, either, but I had no right.

  I take a swig of my beer, heading to my room and seeing Tiernan’s door closed, no light coming from under the door. She got in bed quick. She didn’t hear our conversation, did she?

  I strip off my clothes in the bedroom and pull on some flannel pants, washing up and brushing my teeth.

  I should take a shower. I like the smell of her on my body, though.

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I try to walk for my bed. I’m tired, and tomorrow will be another long day of custom work, chores, and repairs to get ready for the next storm, whenever it hits.

  But I don’t go to my bed. Opening my bedroom door, I head across the hall to hers, and I knock. I just want to make sure she’s alright. If she’s crying, I’ll fucking kill myself.

  “Come in,” she calls.

  My heart starts pumping harder. I open the door.

  The room is dark, lit only by the soft glow of the space heater, and I lean against the doorframe and find her in bed.

  She sits up, the blanket falling to her waist as she looks over at me.

  I trail my eyes down her little white half shirt, my mouth going suddenly dry at the glimpse of her panties peeking out of the sheet.

  “Showered?” I ask.

  She nods.

  I can’t see her eyes very well, but when she straightens her spine, stretching out her body and drawing my eyes to her bare stomach, I feel my arms ache with the emptiness.

  “Hungry?” I fight to keep my tone level.

  She shakes her head.

  I take a swig of the beer, looking at her.

  “Warm enough?”

  She cocks her head playfully. And she shakes it again.

  I smile to myself, even through the sinking in my stomach.

  I really wish I could’ve surprised myself and been stronger. I wish I wasn’t such a lousy piece of shit.

  She climbs out of bed and walks over to me, taking the bottle out of my hand and wrapping her arms around my neck so I can lift her up.

  Her legs circle me like a belt, and I grip her ass.

  “Wanna come into my bed tonight?”

  She buries her face in my neck and holds me tight, her breath and body warm and wanting on my skin.

  God, this feels good.

  And I carry her into my bedroom, slamming the door and hiding us away.

  This will end.

  Just not tonight.

  Tiernan

  I wake with a start, my fingers aching as I slowly unclench them from the sheet. I blink a few times, seeing the time on the clock come into view.

  1:21.

  The room is dark, and I turn over onto my back, the cool air hitting my bare breasts. I quickly pull the sheet up, covering myself as I remember everything we just did a couple hours ago.

  And in the truck yesterday.

  I reach down, slipping my hand between my legs, the raw skin stinging a little and my thigh muscles aching.

  I smile a little.

  I’m glad it was him.

  What I told him last night was true. No one’s first time is good, but mine was. It hurt, but he was careful with me.

  He wasn’t selfish or mean or impatient.

  I look over, but he’s not in bed. I should probably get back to my own, actually.

  A light glows from the bathroom, and I sit up and slide my hand under the sheets, finding my panties and shirt. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I slip them both on and stand up, stretching. I wet my dry lips as I pull off the rubber band on my wrist and tie back my hair, walking for the sink to get a glass of water.

  But as soon as I step into the bathroom, I see Jake standing in front of the mirror turned to the side, with his arm raised, and gazing at the tattoo on his hip.

  My Mexico.

  He catches my eyes in the mirror, and I drop mine, backing out of the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” I hear him ask.

  I stop and step back into view, but I just want to be gone now. Out of his way.

  I rub my eyes. “Just giving you your privacy,” I mutter and make to escape again.

  “Why?”

  I hesitate, shifting on my feet.

  Because…

  You didn’t ask me to come in. I don’t want to intrude.

  Because I know what this is.

  And I’m not her.

  He stares at me through the mirror as he turns on the water and fills up a glass.

  Without letting myself think, I walk over and press my forehead to his back, close my eyes, and wrap my arms around his waist.

  He stills, letting me.

  I don’t know why I do it, but the feel of him—of someone warm and strong—in my arms makes this weird feeling swell in my chest, and I lay my cheek against his spine, hearing his heart beat.

  It feels good to feel this. To be touched. To ask for what I need even if he wants me to leave. Just for a minute.

  Finally, I sigh and pull away, but he catches my arms around his stomach before I escape and tugs me back into place.

  “Stay.”

  My chin trembles, my heart races, and tears fill my eyes.

  I dip my head back into his back and try not to cry.

  He’s not my parents.

  He’s not my parents.

  He wants me around.

  It’s okay.

  I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. It’s okay.

  He stands there silently, thankfully not asking any fucking questions about why I’m almost crying again as I hug him. He just holds my arms in front of him, hanging onto me in a way.

  “Are you thinking about her?” I ask.

  But he remains silent as he dumps out his water and sets the glass down.

  “It’s okay if you are.”

  “I’ve never really talked about her,” he says in almost a whisper, “to anyone but you.”

  I snake my hand back around his waist, breathing in the smell of his skin. “What did she do that you liked?” I say.

  He inhales a deep breath and takes my hand, leading me over to the shower.

  “Her hands in my hair,” he replies, turning on the shower.

  He tests the water and then turns around, coming behind me and pulling out my rubber band, so he can tie my hair up higher into a bun on the top of my head.

  I grin at the gesture. Was he like this with her? Probably more so. If he’s this sweet with me, what was he like with a woman he loved?

  I feel his fingers under the hem of my shirt, and I stop him, turning around and shaking my head.

  Holding his eyes, I peel back the curtain and step into the shower, letting the water soak me. His eyes fall down my body as the water trickles down my stomach and thighs, the white shirt and silk panties molding to my skin.

  Just like she would’ve looked when they swam together.

  I lean against the wall and watch as he pushes his pants down his legs, his cock already stiff.

  God. Three times in the truck. Once in the bed. Apparently, I wasn’t too much for him to handle. Or vice versa.

  He closes the curtain, darkness and steam filling the shower and our eyes still locked.

  He presses into me, but I keep my hands at my side.

  “And what did you do then?” I ask. “After she ran her hands through your hair?”

  He lifts my leg, and I bite my lip as he pulls my wet panties to the side and pushes inside of me.

  I dig my nails into his arms, the pain and sting from being entered once again mixing with the pleasure of being filled. His mouth hovers over mine, breathing through his teeth as he pumps his dick.

  “Close your eyes,” I pant with his thrusting. “Make love to her.”

  He shuts his eyes, and I circle my arms around his neck, hanging on as he lifts Flora into his arms and fucks her against the wall. I run my hand up the ba
ck of his head and over the top, threading my fingers through his hair, relishing the sweet ache deep inside.

  I moan between our kisses, the water on his mouth warm and sweet. I close my eyes, too, letting him go back. Letting him sink into the fantasy, because I want him to remember how he loved her and know how lucky she was to have him. That it wasn’t his fault.

  That my parents weren’t his fault.

  He slides in and out of me, grunting as I tip my head back and letting his mouth trail down my neck as I thread my fingers through his hair once again.

  “I love you,” he murmurs. “But Tiernan uses her nails, and I like that more.”

  Butterflies rush through my stomach, and I tip my forehead to his, immediately curling my claws and dragging them lightly down the back of his head.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” he tells me.

  I do, seeing him looking straight at me as the steam billows around us.

  “I could never pretend you weren’t you,” he says. “I don’t want to.”

  I hold his eyes, our bodies moving faster as his fingers dig into my ass.

  “You remind me so much of her,” he whispers, not breaking his rhythm. “I’m remembering things I haven’t thought about in a long time.”

  The tip of his dick hits my spot, and I throw my head back and arch my back, moaning.

  “How possessive I was with her.” He grabs my face and brings me in, kissing me. “I’d forgotten about that. How we fought a lot about the dumbest stuff. How thoughtless and impatient I was.”

  We fight about the dumbest stuff, too, but I don’t tell him that. If he hadn’t fought me, I wouldn’t be any different now.

  He holds me, and I hold him, breathing hard against each other’s lips. “How overpowering the sex was,” he goes on, “because our emotions were so much bigger than we were and we lost control. And how we were young and fucked away every problem. I don’t want that anymore.”

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

  And then he lowers his voice, barely a whisper. “I want you to like this.”

  I do.

  But before I have a chance to respond, he drops me to my feet, twists me around, and pins me to the wall. I gasp as he spreads my legs and thrusts inside of me again, pushing my body up on my tiptoes as he holds my thigh wide with one hand. With the other, he reaches around and slips his hand inside my panties.

  “I want you happy, Tiernan,” he says low and husky in my ear. “I want my sons happy.”

  He fucks me up against the wall, thrusting faster and faster as I turn my head to meet his lips.

  “And I want you to know that no matter where you go,” he tells me between kisses, “you’ll always be ours. We’re your home.”

  “I know,” I whimper.

  Forehead to forehead, we hold each other’s eyes. “And I want you at my table in the morning and in my bed at night.”

  I rock into the tiled wall, my breasts crushing against its surface, but I don’t care. I look over my shoulder, loving to watch him do this to me.

  “Turns out that fucking prick did something right.” He pulls me back against him, kissing me deep and pinching my nipple. “He gave you to us. Our little princess. Ours. All ours.”

  And that does it, the little sting of pain and his possessive words, and I’m backing up into him, hungry to come. He grabs my hips, helping me as we both moan and cry out, my pussy clenching around him.

  “We’ll wake them up,” I gasp out.

  But neither of us can stop.

  My orgasm crests, and I rub my clit as he hits deeps. “Oh, God, don’t stop,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”

  “Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck.”

  He pounds harder and harder, and I slam my hands into the wall, crying out one more time as my entire body comes apart, a burst of tingles exploding under my skin.

  I breathe hard, whimpering as he falls into me, still squeezing my thighs in his hands.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, out of breath. “We should….” His chest rises and falls against my back. “We should probably use condoms, I think. Even if you are on the pill, this is too much to risk it.”

  I nod, too tired to argue. He’s probably right. Five times in twelve hours won’t be a daily thing, I’m sure, but the more it happens, the bigger the chance.

  He lifts up. “Even if this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he adds as he rubs his thumb across my inner thigh. I blush, feeling him seep out of me. I don’t know what it looks like, but I like how it feels.

  I peel off my clothes, wring them out, and rinse myself off, both of us climbing out of the shower and drying off.

  I go into his room and pull out a pair of his blue boxer shorts, rolling them up a few times to make them fit, and one of his T-shirts. I need something dry to wear between here and my room.

  I take my wet clothes and give him a peck on the cheek.

  He pauses in the middle of pulling on a shirt. “What are you doing?”

  “Going back to bed,” I reply. “While I still have my legs under me.”

  He cocks an eyebrow, but I see the smile he tries to bite back.

  Seriously, though. I need actual sleep.

  And space. Too much too fast makes me a little afraid. I like what I found here. I don’t want to lose myself again.

  “See you tomorrow night,” I whisper as I come in and kiss him again, this time on the lips.

  “Tomorrow night,” he replies.

  I turn to leave, but then I stop and ask, “Do I have to still be up for morning chores?”

  He narrows his eyes in confusion.

  “I mean, since mine go later at night now?”

  His eyes go round, and he bares his teeth, whipping out his hand and smacking me on the ass.

  I laugh and rush out the door, closing it behind me.

  But not before I catch his smile as he shakes his head.

  I like his smile. We so rarely get to see it. I blow out a breath and make my way to my room, but a scent suddenly hits me, and I stop, looking to my right.

  There, in the narrow, dark stairwell leading up to the third floor, an orange ember burns bright and a cloud of smoke drifts out from the black.

  My smile falls.

  Kaleb. I glance at Jake’s door, gauging his bedroom is well within earshot of the stairwell. How long has Kaleb been sitting there?

  He moves, the floorboards creaking as he stands up, and I straighten as he emerges from the darkness, staring at me as he takes another drag and then drops the butt to the floor, stepping on it with his bare foot.

  My stomach coils, and I shoot my eyes up to meet his again.

  “What?” I ask.

  But of course, he remains silent.

  He walks toward me, and I move, backing up to my room, but he shoots out his hand and blocks me. I hit the wall, dropping my wet clothes as he comes in close, bearing down.

  Shit. So what is he thinking? We’ll go out to the shop and finish what he started weeks ago? I’ll be easy now?

  His warm body and bare chest hover close, and I turn my face away, almost shivering at his hot breath on my cheek.

  Bending down, he picks up my red panties that are still damp from the shower, and stands back up, rubbing the material between his fingers as he stares at them.

  A moment of guilt hits me, but I don’t know why.

  I grab for the underwear, but he yanks them away, and my stomach hardens like a wall of bricks. I slap him.

  He jerks a little but doesn’t falter.

  I grab for the panties again, but the fabric tears as he pulls his arm away. He balls my underwear in his hand, his eyes angry and on fire as he slams the fist into the wall by my head. I suck in a breath, cowering on reflex.

  What did I do? Like he actually cares.

  Everything I felt a moment ago with Jake is gone. I straighten, ready to shove his son off me, but before I have a chance, Kaleb grabs me.

  Ta
king me by the arms, he backs me up into my room and pushes me down on the bed, pinning me there.

  “Get off,” I growl, fighting his arms, but he’s quick to keep hold.

  He rears up a little, and I barely have a moment for realization to dawn before I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut, his spit landing in my hair.

  Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and my chest swells with a cry.

  He grabs something off my nightstand, and when he drags it across my forehead, I realize it’s my marker.

  He quickly climbs off me, tosses the Sharpie, and I lie there, too stunned to move for a moment.

  I don’t have to look in the mirror to know what he wrote.

  He leaves the room, his footfalls heavy on the stairs to the attic, and when I hear his door slam shut, I finally sit up.

  Tears hang in my eyes, but I’m not crying anymore.

  I stare off, angry and feeling dirty all of a sudden.

  But after a moment, the shame turns to more rage, and I almost smile.

  He’s pissed.

  I’m almost amused.

  He’s had at least three women in his room since I’ve been here, not counting Cici in the barn that day. But I’m the slut who gets spat on. Would I have still been one if I’d let him and Noah share me that night last week?

  His fucking spit weighs in my hair, and it’s all I feel. The anger building in my lungs with every breath is almost enough to drown out the ache.

  Ours, Jake had said. All ours.

  But in the quiet of my room, the dull thrum of Kaleb’s music vibrating overhead, I shake my head.

  “Yours,” I murmur. “Not his.”

  “No laptops at the table,” Jake says at breakfast.

  He picks up my computer, and I grab my notebook and pencil off it just in time so it won’t tumble to the floor. “This assignment is due.” I argue. “I’ve been trying to send it for an hour now, but the Internet keeps going out.”

  “They’ll understand.” He closes the top and sets it on the counter. “Try again later.”

  I frown, but I toss my notebook and pen on the counter with the computer, giving in. I was on a roll. I’ve never had trouble being motivated for homework until now. You wouldn’t think a remote little place tucked away in secluded little Chapel Peak, Colorado, would provide so many distractions, but I constantly want to be doing a million other things.