Forever Hearts

by CJ Martín

  I snort. “Still not getting lucky tonight, Casanova.”

  He spins me to face him. “Is that so?”

  The look in his eye is downright dangerous. Jaw clenched tight. Strong brow creased. Nostrils flared. It’s like I’ve just thrown down the gauntlet.

  I keep my voice strong. “No way.” I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe Shelly’s available.”

  “Fuck Shelly.” He breathes, grip increasing on my hips.

  “You already have.” The words flow in anger, and once I’ve spoken them, I realize my mistake. His eyes darken, the look alone enough to melt me on the spot.

  “I. Don’t. Fucking. Want. Shelly.” His voice is venom. “I want you.” He tugs my hand and wraps it around his already hard cock. “Feel.” We both look down at our hands as he squeezes my fingers tighter. “This is all for you.” His eyes snap to mine. “Now”―he smirks again―“give me what I want.”

  Oh, God, I should resist, but the way he’s looking at me, the heat emanating from his body, his words…. Why was I mad again? Still, I try to maintain my self-control even though my voice lacks any conviction when I speak. “No.”

  “No?” He quirks his brow. “Fair enough.” Seconds later he rips at the frayed straps of my tank top until nothing but thin scraps of fabric lay discarded on the ground. The material hangs, exposing my bare chest to him. He looks directly in my eyes. “I’ll give you what you want.”

  “Jes, what the—” But my words are cut off by the sound of my shorts being torn.

  “Riley Ann.” His hands reach for my breasts. “Beautiful Riley.”

  Bending his head, he sucks my nipple into his mouth, not teasing or playful, but rough and with purpose. Marking. Claiming. Owning.

  “Jesse.” I cry his name as my fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Jesse.”

  He doesn’t say a word as he switches to the other breast, the stubble of his five o’clock shadow, coupled with his gentle nips, driving me crazy. My muscles spasm, causing my legs to wobble like Jell-O, and I brace one arm on the wall behind him for balance.

  “Stop,” I say, desperate as he continues his assault, because holy shit I think I might fall over if he keeps this up. “Please.” My voice pleads. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  He rises to his full height. “Does it feel like I want anyone else when I’m with you? When I’m touching you? When I’m inside you?” He narrows his eyes when I don’t answer. “Does it?” He brushes his thumbs over my nipples and I tremble.

  “No.” My voice is soft as I cast my eyes away.

  He shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

  Taking both of my hands, he turns me away from him and places my palms on the wall. “Spread your legs.”

  My blood whooshes, as fast and loud as a raging river. Every nerve winds tight, my whole body thrumming with anticipation when I do as he says. Turning my head, I watch over my shoulder as he drops to his knees. With a firm hand on each thigh, he spreads me wider. When he leans forward, when his tongue licks me from top to bottom, I moan. Loudly. What the fuck is he doing? This is too intimate; I’m too exposed. He’s putting his mouth on me there?

  “How about now, Riley? Do I want you now?”

  “Jesse.” I whine, my fingernails curling into the wall. “Oh, my God.” My voice breaks when his tongue finds me again.

  He takes his time, licks me in a place that I never thought I wanted to be licked, but holy hell, it feels good, more than good. I’m soaked, dripping with need for him, and I’m painfully aware of how empty I am. How desperately I need him to fill me.

  As if he could read my thoughts, he adds his fingers. Two thick fingers slide into my aching center, and my insides grip him, pulling him in deeper. “Jesus.” He curses against my thigh.

  My body is lax, loose as it lies against the wall, and I’m glad for the support because there’s no way I’d be able to hold myself upright.

  “Jesse, I want…” I pant, breathless, as I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “What do you want, baby?” He slaps my ass cheek. Hard. “You want to come all over my cock?”

  “Yes.” I scream as he drags his fingers away. Turning my head, I catch the moment when his shorts hit the floor. My eyes dart to his hands, where he’s holding himself, smoothing the first few droplets of his release over the round head. I lick my lips. God, I want to taste him.

  He catches the movement, his half-lidded gaze meeting mine. One hand strokes his thick cock, slowly, languidly. “But I don’t want you, do I?” He moves closer, slides his erection along my ass. My body quivers when his hot breath hits my ear. “Do I?”

  I moan in response. He can’t possibly expect me to talk. I’m incapable of intelligible speech. He’s stripped me down to the most basic, primal level, where all I can process are needs and desire. And right now, I need him.

  “How about now?” He grunts as he slides into me in one smooth thrust. “Do I want you now, Riley?”

  One arm bands around my waist, tugging me closer, even as his forceful thrusts threaten to push me away. His other hand wraps around my throat, his thumb resting on the erratic pulse point in my neck. His grip isn’t light, the pressure just enough to make me aware of his control. And I surrender everything to him. Willingly. “Who do I want, Riley?” he demands, his teeth scraping my ear.

  “Me.” I groan, fingers curling into the cord of muscle in his forearm. When my head threatens to roll to the side, he jerks me upright, holds me firm in his grasp.

  “Who have I always wanted? Who do I want fucking more than ever I thought was possible?” He slams forward, remains still, awaiting my answer. “Who do I love?”

  “Me.” I scream, and when he slams his hips forward again and pinches my nipple, I shatter. My body convulses, trapped between him and the wall, tremors rolling from top to bottom. Electric zaps of pleasure course through me, so forceful that I bite his arm from the sheer intensity of it. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.

  Both of his hands settle on my hips and drag me back toward him. He pulls me down onto him, matching each powerful jerk of his hips. “Riley.” He groans my name. “It’s you. It’s only ever been you.”

  “Jesse.” I twist in his embrace, trailing my lips along his neck. His skin is salty, slicked with sweat, yet somehow sweet, and I want to lick him all over. I want to explore every inch of his body. I want to know everything about this man. The man I love more than anyone or anything.

  “Fuck, Riley.” He groans as he releases inside me, hot jets of warmth that pulse and burn and mark me from the inside out, telling me everything I need to know: I love you. You belong to me. You’re mine.

  I squeeze his hands and he loosens his grip. Turning in place to face him, I bring my eyes to meet his and place my hand over his heart. “We belong to each other.”

  40

  Riley

  Do you ever get the feeling that time’s running out? You know the one I’m talking about. The feeling of dread that takes hold when life’s going too well, when everything seems perfect, and rather than enjoy it, you sit patiently on the sidelines waiting, just waiting, for the other shoe to drop. Because at one point or another, it will.

  That feeling, that sense of this-is-too-good-to-be-true has been flitting around my brain for the past week, and I can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard I try.

  On the weekend, we’re forced to leave my apartment. It’s weird, because Jesse and I are both social people, but we both find ourselves wanting to stay in and…relax.

  I was enjoying every single moment relaxing with Jesse.

  But on Saturday night, Liza invited us to Bailey’s, a local pub-restaurant where her cousin, Craig, is performing a stand-up routine. I’m not one for comics—I always thought comedians were a teensy bit mean-hearted—but it’s Scott’s birthday, so we couldn’t flake, especially after we canceled plans with them the past two weekends in a row.

  Of course, Liza was the first person I told about Jesse and me taking it
to the next level. She pressed for specifics, just as I knew she would, but I decided to keep most of the details to myself, simply because I wanted Jesse all for myself. What we do, how our bodies come together, how we connect, is special and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. And I don’t want to share that with anyone other than Jesse.

  “You made it!” Liza jumps up from her barstool and tosses her arms around me.

  I hug her back. “Why wouldn’t we be here?” I release Liza as my eyes drift to Scott and wrap him in my arms. “Happy Birthday!”

  “I never know with you two anymore.” Liza wiggles her eyebrows. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find your way out of the bedroom.”

  “Stop.” I swat at her. “Did you put our name in for a table?”

  “Twenty minutes ago.” Liza’s eyes dance around the room. “This place is packed.”

  “Yeah.” I lean back into Jesse and he bands an arm around my waist. I sigh in pleasure. I love his hands on me.

  I wiggle my ass against him and his grip tightens around my waist. He dips his head to whisper my ear. “Don’t get me hard, baby.”

  I keep my voice innocent even though I’m anything but. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He grinds against my ass and speaks low enough so only I can hear him. “You know how much I love your ass.” He leans in a bit closer. “And how much I want to fuck it.”

  My pulse spikes as heat floods my face.

  “You okay?” Liza questions, brows pinching together.

  “Yeah.” My voice is breathy, so I clear my throat. “I just… I need a drink.”

  Jesse’s lips twitch. “What do you want?” The question is innocent enough, but the quick nip of his teeth at my neck and slow sway of his hips against my backside cause my skin to erupt in goose pimples.

  Liza catches the gesture. “You two make me sick.” She rolls her eyes in mock disgust and turns back toward Scott.

  Jesse thinks he’s won, but two can play this game. I survey the crowded room. The lights are dim, and the overhang of the bar mostly shields us. Liza and Scott are talking to the couple seated to their right… I remain facing forward but reach my arm behind me. My fingers find him and circle his hard length. He hisses and he pinches my hip.

  Dropping my voice I say, “I think I need something just like this.”

  “Fuck, Ry.” He groans as my hand slides up again more firmly.

  “What?” I say, just as he interlaces his fingers with my other hand and pulls me away. He tugs me behind him as he calls over his shoulder to Liza and Scott. “We’ll be right back.”

  I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I’m game. I keep wondering when this insane hunger, this undeniable need will be satisfied, but a large part of me hopes it never will be sated.

  I giggle as he pulls me down the length of the bar toward the bathrooms, but the smile dies on my lips as my eyes land on the man seated at the end of the bar, a man whom I hoped to never see again: Jason.

  Jesse jerks to a stop a few seconds after he realizes I’m no longer walking behind him. He inclines his head over his shoulder, eyes questioning. He must notice my pale skin, my wide, fearful eyes, because he immediately drops my hand and turns to face me. “Riley?” He rests his hands on both my hips.

  But I don’t answer. Can’t answer.

  “Riley?” he questions again, and this prompts the man’s attention.

  The man spins on his barstool and his eyes land right on me. They narrow as he tries to sort who I am. It takes him a moment, but then a sleazy smile stretches across his face and he says, “Round Two?”

  My blood turns to ice. It’s been almost four years, four freakin’ years, and I run into him now? Here of all places. What the fuck?

  Jesse wraps a protective arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Ry, baby. Are you okay?”

  Jason’s eyes drag over my skin, and I hate everything about him, from his thin moustache to his beady eyes to his sharp, pointy nose. I can’t believe I slept with him. That he could have been a father to—

  Jason’s voice penetrates my thoughts. “Hey, man, I’m Jason.” He extends his hand toward Jesse.

  I witness the exact moment when understanding dawns, because Jesse releases me and moves me aside. “Jason?” he questions through a clenched jaw.

  “Yeah…” Jason’s nervous eyes dart to me then back to Jesse, who looks like he’s ready to attack.

  “So, you’re the piece of shit who hurt Riley?” Jesse’s voice roars over the din of the bar, gaining everyone’s attention. Liza and Scott pause mid-conversation and amble toward us.

  “Jesse.” My voice begs. “Please. Let’s just go.”

  But he either doesn’t hear me or simply ignores my request.

  “Look.” Jason holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not looking for any trouble. What happened between me and…” His eyes find me again and I cringe, “her was a long time—”

  Crack. Jesse’s fist connects with Jason’s nose, and I swear the snap of the bone is as loud and awkward as a needle dragging across a record mid-song. There’s a stunned silence before all hell breaks loose. People push and shove, and I’m forced forward. Shouting and shuffling blocks out Liza’s voice, but I watch her lips move, eyes wide with confusion.

  A man, I’m guessing one of Jason’s friends, helps Jason to his feet. Blood gushes down his face, and his nose is bent at a weird angle. It’s definitely broken.

  “What the fuck?” Jason screams, and blood trickles from his mouth. He brushes his friend’s arm away. His eyes narrow on me in an angry, hateful stare. He shakes his head, “All this and she wasn’t even a decent lay.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Jesse’s body is a blur as he lunges forward and grabs Jason by his shirt. “You fucking piece of shit.” The patrons leave a wide berth as the two wrestle to the ground. One moment Jason’s on top, the next, Jesse. Punches are thrown, insults exchanged, a mixture of sweat, blood, and grit.

  A distant siren rings in the background, growing louder and closer with each passing second. The cops. “Jesse!” I scream. “Jesse! Stop!”

  He pushes himself to stand, his figure looming over Jason, who is curled on his side in the fetal position. Jesse sneers at him. “If you so much as look at her ever again, I will kill you.”

  My eyes drift to the back door, where four uniformed policemen are plowing through the mob of people who have gathered around. When they make their way to us, their eyes jump between Jesse, standing with palms clenched and hard eyes, to Jason, who is lying on the floor, writhing in pain.

  When the taller officer speaks to Jesse, the words hit me like a solid punch to the gut. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  Everything fades away, and the last thing I remember is the click of metal as the handcuffs are fastened to Jesse’s wrists.

  I think the other shoe just fucking dropped.

  41

  Jesse

  I’m in a holding cell, a six-by-six room with nothing more than a wooden bench that is nearly splintered apart. My side screams in pain where that son of a bitch Jason landed a decent punch, but I do my best to ignore it. Besides, it’s not as though Officer McDougal is all that concerned with my health and safety.

  The guy in the next cell over is missing more teeth than I can count and keeps screaming that he’s the next Messiah. The dude is seriously on some fucked-up shit, and the only good thing about tonight is that I’m not in the same cell as him.

  Apparently, since I haven’t been officially “lodged” yet, I’m not allowed my one phone call or any visitors. This is my first time in jail, so I’m not sure if this is standard procedure or how long the booking process usually takes, but I suspect they’re just being assholes and taking their good ol’ fucking time.

  I lost my shit in the bar. Saw red. Snapped.

  A rage swift and strong took over, and it was as though I couldn’t stop, couldn’t control my actions. I’ve never been a particularly violent
person. Never been a possessive person. But with Riley all bets are off.

  Knowing how he’d hurt her, how he’d taken advantage of her—because let’s be honest, he did take advantage of her, no matter what she says. Any guy with morals knows you don’t fuck a woman who’s too drunk to remember or consent. I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t.

  Acting on instinct, I’d done what I wanted to do for nearly four years: make that piece of shit pay for even having breathed the same air as her. I meant what I said when I told Riley I’d do anything for her. Even knowing the result, even knowing I’d end up in jail facing assault charges, I’d do it all over again and I wouldn’t be sorry.

  “Collins.” McDougal’s voice bellows. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  I resist the urge to make a snide comment—thought I wasn’t allowed any visitors—and walk toward the door of my cell.

  “This way.” He gestures with his chin. I pause and extend my wrists forward for him to uncuff me, but he shakes his head. “No.”

  I grunt, and march down the hall. We pause at a cream-colored door on the left, and McDougal swipes his badge.

  I’m expecting Riley or possibly my mom (although I’m really hoping no one called her). What I’m not expecting is the man sitting across from me, mouth set in a hard line, eyes even harder. Riley’s dad.

  “Jesse.” He doesn’t even bother to stand as I approach.

  I square my shoulders and puff my chest as I sit down. “Officer Jones, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  42

  Riley

  I panicked. I didn’t know who else to call. When that police officer took Jesse out in handcuffs and the other three stayed back to get witnesses’ statements, I damn near lost my mind. Words like aggressor, attacked, assault charges were tossed around. Jason was injured, that much was obvious, but he played it up big time.

  Liza and Scott were dumbfounded. Liza asked me a million questions, rapid-fire, and all I could do was mumble one-word answers. Scott’s birthday went to shit, and it was all my fault.