“Can’t wait to get me naked, love?” I joked.
She reached down and grasped me. I was already impossibly hard, but I felt myself growing beneath her touch. I was sure I’d scream if I wasn’t inside her soon.
I angled my hips, lodging at her entrance. She was slick, and as I swiveled my hips, she coated me with her wetness.
“Are you sure?” I asked as I slowed my pace.
She nodded. “I want this. I want you.”
Slowly, I slid into her. She gasped as I widened her tight entrance. I was thick and long, and I was sure I was bigger than most, so I restrained myself by digging my fingers into the mattress each time I wanted to slam into her.
She moaned beneath me as I slowly moved just inside her. In and out. In and out. The pace was excruciating. I was desperate to feel her quiver as I took her fully. I needed to feel her dig her nails into my back as she held on to me. Her gasps were enough to make me come.
“Faster,” she whispered, eyes closed.
I quickened my pace, offering another inch. She arched her back as I pushed inside her. She was impossibly tight and so fucking hot. Her pussy grasped each inch of my cock as I slid into her. I couldn’t stop myself. I pulled out completely and then slammed back into her, offering her my full length.
“Fuck!” she cried.
I supported my weight on one arm, using the other hand to play with her clit. She was soaked, and my fingers slipped off and on the tiny bud.
“Yes, please. Just like that.”
Her back was arched, her neck angled so she stared at the corner of the ceiling. I pumped in and out of her, watching the expressions cross her face as I fucked her.
Angling my hips, I rubbed against the spot deep within her that would make her come over and over again for me.
“James,” she said, breathless. I knew she was close.
“Come with me,” I said, my voice gruff as my orgasm reached its peak.
She tightened around me, her pussy gripping my dick so hard I was sure it’d break off. She breathed my name as she came, and I felt myself empty inside her. Her body shook beneath mine as I held her close, my cock still twitching with aftershocks.
Chapter Three
Now
The aroma of coffee filled the apartment. Normally, I was a light sleeper and woke with every little noise, but last night, I slept like the dead. Tornado sirens wouldn’t have woken me.
I dragged myself out of bed and walked into the bathroom, yawing and staring at myself in the mirror while I waited for the sink water to warm. I replayed last night over and over again as I brushed my teeth. I tried to shake away the memories of being inside Jezebel. My morning wood already ached, begging for a release, and at this rate, I’d be stroking in the shower.
I had to focus on something other than my dick. What was on today’s calendar? Jezebel was working on her next book today, but maybe she and I could get lunch. I dropped my rinsed toothbrush into the holder and went searching for her. Some sort of plan would help before I showered.
I turned the corner to walk into the kitchen and came to a screeching halt. Jezebel was facing the coffeemaker, pouring herself a cup. Her legs, long and lean, were bare. She wore nothing but one of my button-up dress shirts, and I was fairly confident that if she reached for another mug, her ass would be bare too.
“Morning,” she said without looking back.
I tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. I cleared my throat, and she turned to face me. I inhaled sharply. “Christ, Jezebel.”
“Hmm?” she asked as she took a sip of her coffee, completely unaware of her effect on me.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I asked. I scanned the length of her body, settling on her half-assed attempt at buttoning my shirt. She’d only managed to link a few, leaving a rather revealing view of her breasts. The longer I stared at her, the harder her nipples grew. And I was right—she wasn’t wearing anything but my shirt.
For fuck’s sake. I came to her to distract myself from beating my shit in the shower.
She smiled a devilish grin, and I was done. I strode toward her and then tossed her mug into the sink behind her, not caring if it was strong enough to withstand such abuse. I tangled my hand in her hair, pulling her to me. We crushed our lips together as she leaned against me—and then our tongues.
I reached down, gripped her ass, and lifted her into the air. She wrapped her legs around me, and I set her down atop the counter. I made a sad attempt to unbutton my favorite work shirt but ended up gripping the fabric and yanking it free. Buttons clattered to the ground, and the shirt landed beside them in a heap.
“You’re so fucking sexy right now,” she said as I kissed her neck.
I grumbled something I knew she couldn’t understand as I palmed her breast. Her nipple was rock hard beneath my hand. It was begging to be touched. I knew that feeling well.
She leaned back until she was resting on her elbows, which gave me perfect access to her chest. I placed a hand on her back and pulled her toward me as I explored her body with my other. Her skin was soft beneath my palm as I rubbed each and every crevice.
I latched on to her nipple and rubbed the hardened bud with my tongue. With each moan that escaped her lips, I sucked harder. I nipped her breast just as my hand reached her clit. A surge of her wetness coated my fingers.
I focused on her other nipple as I inserted a finger into her.
“Yes,” she breathed.
I slid in and out, slowly, carefully, until she was desperate for more attention. I added another digit and pulled away from her breasts. She leaned forward, kissing me, sucking on my lips as I fucked her with my hand.
“I want to taste you,” I said.
She hiked up her legs until her heels rested on the edge of the countertop. I pulled out my fingers and brought them to my mouth, sucking her juices.
“That’s so fucking hot,” she said, her voice deep with passion.
I smiled and splayed her open to me. Sucking on my bottom lip, I stared at her pussy. It was still plump from being fucked last night and then teased this morning. I could smell her arousal, and it smelled like heaven. Her musk was sweet yet earthy, and I could’ve dined on it all damn day.
I leaned in and swiped my tongue up the length of her pussy, teasing her clit with the tip when I reached the end. I sucked her into my mouth and relished her taste as she squirmed beneath me.
I licked her again, this time sinking my tongue into her.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Fuck me like that, James.”
And I did. I fucked her until my tongue couldn’t thrust anymore. When I sucked on her clit again, she came in my mouth, and I swallowed everything she gave me. Pulling back, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stroked my dick.
Her eyes were lidded. I knew she was still riding her orgasm, so I quickly positioned myself and sank deep inside her.
She cried out, her pussy clenching my dick. I thrust long and hard, grabbing the flesh of her ass as I worked myself toward my own release.
“Rub your clit,” I ordered. I watched myself move in and out of her in quick thrusts as she struggled to rub herself.
“I’m going to come again,” she said.
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me; she still hadn’t opened her eyes from her last orgasm.
My abs strained as I thrust into her over and over again, feeling my release closing in. Just as I was about to come, I felt her tighten around me, clenching my dick in an ironclad grasp that squeezed my own orgasm from me.
I leaned against her as we caught our breaths. I listened to her heartbeat until it slowed to normal, and then I stood back. I was still inside her, but I’d almost completely deflated. Pulling out, I watched as my come seeped from her swollen, fire-red pussy.
“I never get tired of seeing that,” I said.
She smiled and kissed me. It was a soft, sweet kiss that left me breathless.
“Join me in the shower?”
She shook her head. “Too much to do, and I already showered.”
“But you’re dirty again,” I crooned.
“I’ll clean myself up while you shower, and then we can eat breakfast together before I leave.”
“Or we can skip breakfast and take a long, hot soak in the hot tub.”
There was a hot tub on the rooftop, which was our own private space. Jezebel didn’t use the hot tub nearly enough, but the weather today was perfect.
She bit her lip. “You know I’d love that, but I can’t today. I have to write, and then I have that meeting with Tara. Rain check?”
“I’ll hold you to that, Miss Tate.”
While Jezebel retreated to the bathroom to clean herself, I cleaned up our mess. As I was picking up my clothes, the television grabbed my attention. I hadn’t even realized it was on. The morning anchor was talking about a recent string of murders in the area. It had nothing to do with my parents, but I couldn’t stop my thoughts from flickering to them. Soon, the world would know what had happened, and I wasn’t sure I was prepared for that.
I sauntered into the bathroom as Jezebel retreated toward the bedroom to change. Tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper, I stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet. The water felt great, but it wasn’t hot enough. I adjusted the handle until it was nearly scalding, providing the perfect amount of pain and pressure on my skin. It was the ideal distraction to avoid thinking about my fucked-up past.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. I mindlessly shuffled through my morning routine, thinking of pointless facts to keep myself occupied.
I wouldn’t let my past come back to bite me in the ass, to ruin everything I’d built for myself since I left Living Light.
But everywhere I turned, I saw evidence of my demons washing ashore, clinging to my heels as I unsuccessfully trudged through the sand in my escape. I was ankle-deep now, and soon, almost as if some long-buried psychic abilities were resurfacing, I knew this quicksand would have me by the throat.
After my shower, I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, re-brushed my teeth, ignored my five o’clock shadow, and went in search of Jezebel. She sat cross-legged on the couch in the living room, the television on, her eyes locked on the screen as she sipped coffee from a mug Tara, her agent and best friend, got her for Christmas last year. The text on the side read This isn’t coffee. She laughed for a good twenty minutes when she unwrapped it. I smiled as I thought of that day. It was after her attack, and in that moment, the old Jezebel shined through the darkness that surrounded her. It was brief, but she was there. I yearned to grab her and block that darkness from ever suffocating her again.
“Breakfast?” I asked.
She didn’t respond as I grabbed the carton of eggs and a package of bacon. I glanced at the clock. Soon, she’d leave for the café to work on her next book. She was excited about it, but she never talked to anyone about the plot. When I’d asked why she wouldn’t share the details with me, she’d said she was trying to be secretive. Norman Mailer, an American novelist, had explained once in a stiff, scripted interview scene on Gilmore Girls—Jezebel’s favorite television show—that secrecy was important to the creative process.
I scrambled our eggs in a bowl before splashing them into the pan. The bacon was sizzling beside them, offering a mouthwatering aroma. I loved the smell of good food cooking in the kitchen. So did Jezebel, but whatever she was watching on TV had captured her attention to the point of blissful ignorance. It was as if I wasn’t even here.
“Jez,” I called, chuckling internally when I received no response.
I scooped our servings onto plates and brought them into the living room. I placed hers below her chin, letting the steam waft toward her. Her eyes grew wide as she set her mug down and accepted my offering.
“Smells delicious,” she said, licking her lips.
I ignored the twitch in my cock as she did so and cleared my throat.
“I hope you’re hungry for eggs and bacon. You didn’t hear me earlier.”
“Sorry. They’re talking about those bodies they found,” she said, nodding toward the TV.
Everything silenced save for the newscaster. She was as loud as an air horn in a library.
“I guess those hikers were just walking their dogs in the woods, and that’s how they found ’em.” She took a bite of eggs. “Apparently, there’s evidence of a community there. Locals didn’t even know about it. They’re calling it a cult. I guess there were remnants of religious relics. Crazy, huh? I mean, this clearly has the makings for a Hollywood blockbuster.”
I listened as the news anchor explained that local authorities were still investigating the possible crime. I was so consumed by what I was sure to be the reporting of my parents’ bodies, I didn’t hear Jezebel’s cell phone ring.
“Hello?” she said. A few seconds passed. “Hello!” She hung up.
“No one there?” I whispered, almost unable to speak.
She shook her head, visibly shaken, obviously reliving a memory of the time she’d been taken. I wasn’t an idiot. In fact, I was fantastic at reading people. I’d made a career from my keen ability to break through the bullshit. She was helpless when it happened, and even though he was gone for good, anytime she experienced even a second of vulnerability, she relived her abduction.
I wanted to console her. I needed to console her, but I couldn’t focus. The world was dangerously close to discovering my past, so I was a man torn between two instincts: flight or fight.
Chapter Four
Now
After Jezebel left to spend the day writing at the café, I opened my laptop and typed in the website address I’d become all too familiar with. The design was simple, focusing almost solely on her blog.
Abigail wrote near-daily posts about her father’s involvement in my family’s death. Every time I read the words “the true story,” I wanted to slam my laptop against the wall. I’d fought this urge for years, but now I was beginning to wonder how much longer I could deny the impulse.
I clicked on the website’s About page and waited for it to load. My foot tapped uncontrollably against the hardwood floors as my gaze flickered to the door. Jezebel hadn’t been gone even fifteen minutes. She’d be working on her book all morning and well into the afternoon, and even though I knew this, my paranoia was all-consuming.
I glanced back at my laptop’s screen and inhaled sharply. The woman in the photo stared back at me. She leaned against a tree, her arms casually crossed over her chest. The camera’s lens had focused on her, but a color-speckled field was blurred behind her. She smiled widely. It was a knowing smile, and it wasn’t for the camera that was surely clipped to a tripod a few feet away from her. She smiled for me, and even though I’d seen this photo hundreds of times, it still took away my breath.
Because I knew that color-speckled field of wildflowers in the distance.
I knew the thick base of the weeper she leaned against.
I could almost hear the way its branches swayed in the breeze, even now, even from where I sat hundreds of miles away.
She smiled for me because she knew I’d recognize the location of her staged photo, and it made my blood boil every time I saw it.
Abigail. I never knew her last name. Living Light wasn’t exactly a community for people concerned about logistics, so when she and her father showed up seeking refuge, they were welcomed with open arms. We were naïve, yes, but that was our way; everyone was given a chance. I didn’t think much of her when we first met, but I certainly didn’t see then what I saw now. I wish I had. One of the first skills I honed in my years of Spec Ops was how to spot evil. Honestly, it just made the job easier if I could look at my target and sense a killer. If only it’d been a natural-born talent…
I stared at her picture and watched as she slowly morphed into a demon that’d clearly escaped the depths of hell. After all, it took a spectacularly psychotic person to condone the actions of the man who murdered an entire group of people.
She look
ed almost identical to the girl I once knew. Her skin pale, her eyes a light blue, her hair a faded shade of red. She was average in every aspect.
I scrolled to the website’s footer and noted the viewer log. Exhaling slowly, I added the new number and today’s date in the log I had been keeping in a password-protected document on my laptop. It seemed I was the only one viewing this horrid site. As much as I’d like it to stay that way, I couldn’t help the gnawing feeling in my gut whenever I glanced at the television. With the bodies piling up, there’s no way this site wouldn’t make waves.
Eventually, the world would discover it. Jezebel would discover my truth, and I was sure she would leave forever.
I slammed closed my laptop, not even bothering to exit out of the website I’d been stalking. I stomped down the hall and tossed the computer atop the chest of drawers. I strummed my fingers against the wooden top, knowing what I needed to do but dreading making the call.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and read a text from Jezebel.
Writing’s not going well.
I frowned.
Why?
Trying to write a sex scene in a coffee
shop full of stay-at-home moms with
babies screaming all around me…
Yikes.
How about some inspiration?
I grinned at the winky-face emoji that followed her request.
Have you always been
such a shameless minx?
No. You ruined me.
I swallowed hard. She didn’t know then how true that statement would become.
Don’t go soft on me, Blakeley.
Another winky face, followed by a couple of crying-while-laughing ones. I shook my head. She definitely loved her emojis. My phone lit up with a new message, and my dick nearly sprang from my pants.
Truth We Bear Page 2
