I’m a sick bastard and know it. My bed will be a lonely one tonight and more than likely the next few days. I flip open the button to my jeans, undo my fly, and pull my cock out. It’s hard and aching for her. I slowly begin to stroke it while flipping through her pictures.
I stop on one where she’s bent over slightly, reading a paper on a table. Her silky, brown hair cascades over her shoulders. I shudder remembering the feel of it as it brushes up against my thighs when she sucks me off or lightly tickles my chest as she’s riding my cock. That hair of hers undoes me. The way those soft tresses feel in my hands. The way she yells out when I pull them to make her submit to my every command.
I growl in the empty kitchen as I tug and pull on my rock-hard cock. My hand moves faster, stroking and pulling. My balls tighten, and my spine burns as I feel the first pulse of my release gearing up to come all over my stomach. It doesn't take long to get there. It never does with her. She has fucking wrecked me. Torn down my walls. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone try to destroy her.
Some of the worry in my gut drifts away, and my mind clears instantly. Caitlin is the only image filling it now. I grip my dick tighter, nearing a painful state. It’s the perfect imitation of her sweet pussy gripping it before she screams out my name.
Varying the speed on my dick causes my balls to draw up. My hand glides up and down from base to tip. The sensation is so intense I grip onto the counter with my free hand before I fall to my knees. My mind screaming her name. Three more pumps, and I’m fucking coming so hard I go dizzy.
“Motherfucker, you’re going to be the death of me,” I murmur to the picture on the screen.
I grab some paper towel, run it under the water, and clean up quickly, then return to the computer to see what else I can find. Never had a fucking orgasm so powerful it rivaled the effects of pot. Only Caitlin Winslow has that kind of power over me.
I click back to the search of her name and the hundreds of articles. One catches my attention: “Career Woman of the Year.”
I click on it and read the magazine publication. I’m stunned reading the facts about Caitlin’s life. Not one piece of personal information is listed in her accomplishments. No hobbies, interests, or fucking life for that matter. Not a damn thing about her mother. It spits out a long paragraph about her father and how she’s following in his footsteps. How’s she always wanted to be a lawyer and to make a name for herself. Bullshit. She may have wanted to be a lawyer, but the rest of it screams lies. There’s a side-by-side comparison of her workload cases next to other prominent lawyers in her field. She outshines and outworks all of them. The statistics are astronomical and mind boggling. Did the woman even fucking sleep?
The closing statement of the article makes me think a bit clearer. “It’s unknown how this woman gets everything accomplished. She’s made a permanent place for herself in the history books. The world just wants to know, Caitlin, how do you do it all?” She’s had it drilled into her head ever since she was a child. That’s why. She doesn’t know any different.
I glance over to the paper with my notes. Drugs. Her fucking father made sure Caitlin was too damn busy to see what in the fuck was going down. He preoccupied her and pushed her to do more and be better, so she wouldn’t see what the fuck was going down in their own firm. I’ll give it to him; he’s a smart man because she would’ve picked up on it in an instant. He kept her out of the way. How in the hell can someone have that much control over another? I don’t get it. She must have been scared shitless of the man.
I need to know what the fuck he was doing exactly. That question will have to wait for another day. I have a fucking empty bed to get to.
I walk down the hall, turning off all the lights. Brick’s snoring on the couch and didn’t wake when I came down or fucking jacked off. Not that I would have cared.
I creep past my room and down to the guest room. It’s dark with light snores drifting out into the hallway. The light of the moon shining in through the windows casts a glow on my girl’s face. She’s in one of my old t-shirts with her arms wrapped around her mother. I’ve never seen a person smile in their sleep until now. Hell, I’ve never wanted a woman to sleep in my house for the rest of my life until her.
With quiet footsteps, I walk over to the night-light plugged in on the opposite wall and flick it to the on position. It’s not likely Louisa will freak out in the middle of the night wrapped up in her daughter’s arms. I’ve never been a fan of the dark and can only assume someone who's been held prisoner for years isn’t either.
My self-discipline is shit when Caitlin’s involved. The last thing I want to do is wake her, but I’m starving for just one taste. I pull the blanket up until it’s covering her shoulders then tuck a stray hair behind her ear. She is so beautiful, and she doesn’t even know it. She has more guts than anyone I’ve met. More flaws that make her the perfect woman for me.
I murmur against her forehead, “Thank you for teaching me how to love. It’s been a long time coming, baby.”
I place a gentle kiss on top of her head and then force myself to back out of the room quietly.
I’m never going to be the same man again.
17
Caitlin
“Thanks for getting all this stuff.” I turn to Rachel and take the last bag from her hands.
“Anything for you. How’s she doing today?” she asks then starts helping me sort through the items she bought. My mom is going to love all this stuff.
“She’s getting better, slept most of the day yesterday. She did eat a banana and drank some of the broth today. Her color looks so much better, too,” I say while taking the tags off the clothes she bought for my mom before tossing them in the washer.
“Has she said anything more?” Rachel finally asks. Everyone but Katch has been tiptoeing around asking me if my mom has opened up to me at all. The answer is always the same when he does, and it’s no different now. There’s so much we need to find out. I just haven’t had the heart to ask her anything except for what she needs and how she’s feeling.
There are so many questions looming over all of us. Some I believe she has answers to and others I think she’s as uninformed to them as we are. The elephants in the room are suffocating us all. The thing is, I’m not willing to risk my mother’s health. It’s a waiting game. The one thing I’ve grown to have patience for when that word never was in my vocabulary before.
“No. I’m dying to ask her, but I don’t want to do anything to set her off. I think what she has to say is going to be the key to what we need. The doctor was over this morning to check on her. Katch and I briefed him on what she did the other night without giving away too much. He said her brain is trying to process the last sixteen years of her life. Certain things will trigger her to fall back into the worst times. Meaning when Curtis raised his voice, she slipped. Proves that whoever had her raised their voice all the time. I don’t know; it’s all so confusing. All I know for sure is, I’ll fight until I can’t anymore to get my mom back.”
“I’m incredibly proud of you, Caitlin.”
I sigh and feel tears prick my eyes. I’ve cried so much lately that it’s exhausted me.
“You know, I would never admit this to anyone else, but it's times like these when I’m thankful my father turned my heart into stone. If he didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to take everything that’s happened in the past three weeks. Don’t get me wrong, that evil man is the center of it all, and I hate him with every fiber of my being. I just…how could he do this? And for what? More money? Power? You know Katch and Curtis think this all has to do with drugs, right?” I think back to yesterday morning when Katch told me about the information he found the other night. It all makes me sick to my stomach to think there was a possibility my mother found out and threatened to leave him over it. Take me and run. The likelihood that my first car, my clothes, or my college education could have been paid for with drug money shames me. The things that I bought with my own money are all lyi
ng around my house in shreds.
“I hate to say this, but does it surprise you?”
“It does and it doesn’t. He was a lot of things. I guess there was a part of me that hoped. I don’t know. Let’s talk about something else. Like when can I see those beautiful little girls of yours?”
Her face lights up when I mention Violet and Emma.
“As soon as this is all over, we are all going to get together. They’ve been begging Curtis and me to go to Disney.”
I laugh at her comment just thinking out the whole scene. Never in a million years did I think my cousin would settle down the way he has. Let alone go on vacation. I can picture him now toting those two little beautiful girls around while they scream at all the characters. Curtis loves those girls more than anything, but he will go batshit crazy down there.
“Sorry,” I laugh. “I was thinking when you said we, you were including Katch and me. There is no way he would step foot in Disney. Seriously, try and picture it.”
“I am including you, and by the way he looks at you and acts, I don’t think there’s a darn thing he wouldn’t do for you.”
I stop in the middle of lifting my bottle of water to my mouth. There are a lot of things he would do for me, but I can’t even get my mind to comprehend a man like him walking through Disneyland or even hanging out at the beach. He hated shopping, for God’s sake. He sent Brick to buy groceries, and now that Mindy the Whore is gone, I’ve been cleaning his house. Well, trying to at least. A broom and a dustpan still feel foreign in my hand. However, thanks to Brick helping me those two weeks Katch was gone, I’m sure as hell getting better at it.
“What’s this?” I ask, curious. All thoughts of Disney and anything else flying out the window when I see an old photo album on the kitchen table.
“It’s a photo album we found when your uncle passed away. Curtis thought it might help. There are several pictures of you and your mom in here. Most of them from Curtis’s birthdays when he was a kid, and the rest from holidays. In the back are a few pages of the only ones Chet had of her.” My fingers trace the edge of the worn leather. This is a way to help her cure. I know it is. She needs to see this.
“I love you guys. Do you know that?” I wipe away a tear, look up to her, and see her love shining back at me.
“I do know. Always have. You may think you have a heart of stone, but you don’t. You never did. You simply shielded it from any more emotional pain. No one can fault you for that.”
“Now you are just blowing smoke up my ass, Rachel.”
She points her finger at me with a stern look. “The only compliment I take about blowing is from your cousin.”
“Jesus, Rach. I don’t need that visual.” I toss a tag at her and cringe.
“Speaking of blowing and a hot man, what do you think of Dr. Hot Pants?”
I shrug. I mean, any fool in any shape would recognize his looks. It’s like he’s straight off the runway and thrown into the emergency room. I’ve seen a lot of doctors in my life, mostly in the courtroom, but they’re more the pudgy, not-so-good-looking ones. Dr. Hot Pants, as Rachel calls him, is simply torture to all women. Clean-cut, strong jawline, and designer clothes. I mean, if that’s your type. I’ve learned it’s not mine but can still appreciate the goods.
“He’s okay,” I finally admit.
“You suck at lying. If that man doesn’t set your vagina to inferno level, then I’ll claim you’re a lesbian. He’s actually Brick’s brother.”
“Brick’s brother?” I ask, now fully invested in Dr. Hot Pants.
“Yep, the reason he’s so loyal to the club even if it takes lots of money to get him to break hospital protocol.”
“I’m still stuck on the Brick’s-brother thing.”
“That gene pool didn’t share well.” She rises from her seat, grabbing her purse. “I mean, Brick is alright, too. He’s just nothing like his brother.” I beg to differ. I think Brick is a big, sexy beast with a kind soul.
“I have a feeling you’d be sending Curtis into a full-on heart attack right now if he heard you.”
She reaches over and kisses my forehead. “Have to keep the man on his toes. It’s not like he has club whores over all the fucking time or anything.” Oh, I know the feeling when it comes to those whores. This coming from Rachel, though, well, it surprises me.
“He would never cheat on you.” For her to even think that makes me mad.
“No, he wouldn’t. Those women know he’s taken. A few of them still try. Damn skanks. They have no morals. I can’t stand any of them.”
“I know what you mean.” I pin my stare anywhere but at her. She knows what I saw when I walked in on Katch and his whore. I’m over it. Doesn’t mean I don’t hurt whenever I think about it, though.
It takes me nearly a half hour after Rachel leaves to get myself together enough to pick this album up and walk into the living room, where my mother is resting on the couch. I firmly believe this will help her. I’m afraid her seeing photos of my uncle will set her off. It’s something that needs to be done, though. To remember the good times, to grieve, and eventually heal.
Katch has been outside looking my car over in his big garage out back and working on a new restoration. Both vehicles were dropped off this morning. Why he feels the need to look my car over is beyond me. Maybe he needed out of the house. Doesn’t matter; it gives me time to share this with her without any interruptions.
“Mom. I brought you some fruit,” I indicate, sit down next to her, and place her feet in my lap. Her feet are covered in a pair of Katch’s wool socks that are doubled over and falling off her tiny feet.
“It looks good. Really good.” She smiles, showing me her broken tooth and stained teeth. I need to get her to the dentist as soon as she’s well enough. God, the things we all hate to do are the things she desperately needs.
“Would you like some help?” I ask when she tries to push herself up.
“Let me try on my own.” It takes her forever, but she manages to push herself up, swing her legs around, and sit right next to me. It’s a proud moment. I want to scream, “You did it!” I don’t, though; the only thing she’s been complaining about is me taking care of her when she should be the one taking care of me. I told her how wrong she is. Her being alive is all I need. All I’ve ever needed.
“Where did you get this?” She picks up a slice of apple, takes a bite, and places the plate on her lap on the couch. I struggle watching her struggle when she leans forward and tries lifting the album.
“Here.” I take it from her shaky hands. Her skin is so thin and tender that I’m afraid if she drops it, she will bruise or hurt herself.
“That was my mother’s. Chet had it. I miss him,” she announces, tears welling in her eyes.
I’m not sure what to say. With everything that’s happened, I never told her he passed away. Something tells me she knew and dear old dad told her. Bastard.
“Clarence told me when he died. If you call laughing in my face because he knew one of the few things that could break me was losing him, you, or Curtis telling me.” She shrugs as if it’s a daily occurrence that someone would do such a horrendous thing. My heart is busting wide open for her. “Anyway. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking me. I cried and prayed for my brother in here.” She points to her chest.
“Oh, Mom. I am so sorry you went through that alone.”
“No. We are not going there. Not today. Not ever. He didn’t break my spirit, and that was what he wanted to do. Let’s see what’s in here. I want to relive my good memories, Caitlin.”
She gingerly opens the book and studies each picture. Long-ago memories dance across her face. Tears well up in her eyes, but she never cries. The genuine smile that graces her lips causes me to grin like a little girl.
She runs her finger along the picture of Uncle Chet. “He was the best brother I could ever ask for. He was protective and strong.”
“Just like you,” I whisper.
“Maybe.
Chet, though, he’d save me from our daddy when he was out of control and in a drunken state. I loved him so damn much.”
“He’d be proud of you, Mom.” I squeeze her free hand, offering my full support.
She flips through several pages, laughing and smiling at every single one. “Remember this time at Curtis’s birthday party?”
I nod, staring at the snapshot of Curtis and me as children. He’s in swim shorts, and I’m in a bright yellow swimsuit. We’re drenched from head to toe, each clutching a bag of candy. The busted-up piñata lies behind us. Even though there were no other kids our age around, Uncle Chet made sure we had one big-ass piñata filled to the brim with candy. He was one big-ass lovable biker dude. I wish I had the guts to run to him years ago. To call my father out and disappear the way I’m doing now. I simply couldn’t put any of them in danger.
“You two ate so much candy you threw up on the ride home.”
I brave the subject, not knowing how far I can push my mom at this moment. “I remember you having to lie to Dad, and then the next week when he found out where we were, you ended up with a broken arm. He told me you fell down the stairs carrying a laundry basket.”
She turns to look to me. Dread written all over her face. “I did fall down the stairs, Caitlin. The thing I didn’t tell you was, he pushed me down them.”
“Mom,” I gasp. I should have known.
“I always tried my best to shelter you from everything. I needed time and an escape plan. But I soon learned if I stayed away from my family, life was easier.”
“Why did he hate them so bad?”
“Seems juvenile, sweetie, but he didn’t want my last name or upbringing to taint his prestigious reputation.” Little did we know it’s his name that’s ruined us all.
I sit in silence, not knowing where to go. It’s unimaginable to process the fact she was surviving all those years through one huge balancing act.
“As the years flew by and I figured out how not to trigger him, your dad grew to resent me and the life we had. He always wanted more. More money, more fame, more power, and I was a useless pawn in his game.” She begins to quiver. “Then one afternoon, he came home early and happened to get the mail before me.” I’m not sure I can stomach any more of this. It all makes me sick.
When Opposites Collide Boxset Page 13
