by Freya Barker
“Yes.” My voice sounds pathetic and needy.
“You sure?”
“Yes! Please...”
Before I can even finish, my breath is stolen from me as he fills me with his considerable girth. “Breathe, baby,” he says in a strangled voice, the strain showing on his face, as he stills inside me, giving me time to accommodate to his size. The stretch is not unpleasant, but it is unexpected, and it takes me a minute to catch my breath. The entire time his head is hanging down, but his eyes are focused on my face.
“I want to touch you,” I tell him, taking my hands down and curling them around his back. I slide them down until I cup his deliciously tight ass, watching the almost tortured expression on his face as he holds himself back. “Now I’m ready.”
“Thank fuck,” he hisses, pulling out of me excruciatingly slowly, before powering back inside. And again, the slow move out, before hammering home. I feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of his dick as he moves inside me, and each time he rams inside me, the root of his cock presses against my clit.
It’s both heaven and hell. Too much, and not enough. When my body finally falls apart around me, it’s accompanied by Dino’s guttural grunts as he bucks his way into his own release.
Dino
Holy shit.
I’m sucking in breath like I’ve just finished a marathon in record time. Those damn noises she makes, the clench of her fingers on the muscles of my ass, the tight wrap of her long legs around my hips. Christ, I feel like my brains are leaking from my ears, I came so hard.
Still trying to regain some control over my shaking limbs, I feel her shift underneath me and realize my full weight is lying on her. I quickly push up on my arms.
“Sorry,” I huff out, feeling the slight drag of my cock still half hard inside her. I don’t want to leave her surprisingly tight grip on me. My forehead drops down to hers. “Did I hurt you?” I can feel her hands start stroking, soothing my back.
“No.” Her husky voice is like lush velvet, rich with satisfaction, and it puts a smile on my face. “Don’t look so smug,” she smirks. “Or I won’t tell you how memorable your moves are.” I lift my head away a little, smiling down at her.
“Memorable?”
“Mmmm,” she purrs, sliding a hand out from behind me and tracing the line of my jaw with her fingertips. “Quite.”
“More magnificent than memorable,” I tease.
“You, or it?” she comes right back, without blinking an eye.
“Us.” I lean down and press my lips to her slightly stunned, opened mouth, taking the opportunity to sweep my tongue inside, tasting a hint of toothpaste coupled with the rich, creamy flavor all Pam’s.
Reluctantly I pull away, and soft as I am now, I sadly slip from her body, feeling the loss immediately. I rush to the bathroom to grab something to clean her up with, but the sight of her as I walk back in has me slow down. Not a hint of embarrassment now, as she lies in my bed, one arm resting on her forehead, the other loosely folded over her stomach, and one leg still out wide with the other leg pulled up, her foot flat on the mattress. All that beautiful skin on full display.
“Beautiful,” I say, as I sit down on the mattress beside her cocked leg. She quietly observes me as I gently pull her leg open and use the towel I grabbed to wipe my release from her inner thighs.
“It’s the afterglow.” My eyes shoot up to see her lips tilted in amusement.
“No, the afterglow makes you stunning,” I clarify, watching as the amusement slips from her face and is replaced with a pensive expression.
“You mean that.” It’s not a question, but a conclusion that seems to surprise her.
“Every single syllable,” I confirm, tossing the towel on the floor and leaning over her.
I close my mouth over hers and lick my tongue along the crease of her lips, when I hear the sound of the front door slamming shut. But it’s the sound of my daughter’s voice calling upstairs that hits like a bucket of ice water.
“Daddy!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pam
That wasn’t awkward at all.
I’ve never seen a man shoot out of bed that fast. Of course, I have to admit, I was close behind him as his daughter’s footsteps started coming up the stairs. I make a beeline for the bathroom, where I hung yesterday’s clothes on the hook and left my bag. More importantly, where I can safely lock myself out of sight. In situations like this, it’s every man for himself. Or herself. In any event, I feel no guilt as I slip by Dino’s big form, digging with a touch of desperation through the dresser drawer for something to wear, and into the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind me. I hear the slamming of a drawer right before I hear the door open up and Dino’s deep rumble filter through. I’m already half-dressed when a tentative knock on the door sounds. I quickly pull my shirt over my head before unlocking and opening the door a crack.
“Let me in?”
I oblige by stepping back, letting Dino squeeze his body through.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” I ask as I watch him lift the toilet seat. Oh. “I’ll just wait outside,” I mumble as I turn and fumble with the door before I realize I don’t know who’s on the other side. I’m a little freaked out by the intimacy of the situation. This entire episode I can do without. Well, except the sex part, that was really, really phenomenal. But getting caught by his little girl, and being stuck hiding in a bathroom with him peeing a few feet away from me? Yeah, that I can do without. It’s a little intense.
Behind me I hear the toilet flush and the tap turn on.
“She’s in her room. The other bathroom is between her room and Jonas’.” I feel the heat from his body as he moves in right behind me. “I promise I won’t make this a habit,” he whispers, close to my ear.
A habit? That implies something long-term. And what about his kids? Jonas. That boy is in the hospital and we’re hiding in the bathroom like a pair of teenagers caught in the act. What am I doing? My thoughts are erratic and I feel panic edging in.
“I’ve gotta go,” I blurt out.
“Give me a minute to talk to her and I’ll drive you. She doesn’t know about Jonas yet, I haven’t had a chance to tell her, but she’ll want to see him right away. I’ll take her to the hospital.” His hands drop on my shoulders and turn me to face him. Concern is lined on his face. For his son, his little girl, even for me.
“I’ll grab a cab,” I say quickly. “Now’s not a good time to introduce...” My voice falters while my mind scrambles to find an appropriate description for what we are. I’m not sure. We went from barely tolerating each other to this—whatever this is—and I’ve been so wrapped up living in the moment, I’ve not really thought the consequences through. “Now’s just not a good time.”
Dino looks at me through squinted eyes, his hands still on my shoulders.
“You’re panicking,” he says, matter-of-factly. I don’t have to answer, I’m sure he can see it all over my face. After a moment he leans in and brushes his lips over mine. “There’s a lot going on right now, so I’ll let you have that play, but promise me you won’t use this to keep me at a distance again. I won’t let you.”
“Okay,” I agree, but I’m really not so sure.
Dino ends up taking Gina for breakfast, and while I’m waiting for them to leave, I call a cab. Ten minutes later, I pull the front door closed behind me.
-
“Mrs. Brunard?”
I just stepped out of a quick shower when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the voice, but a cold chill slips down my back as I listen to the official way I’m addressed. Holding the towel I wrapped around me closed with a fist, I take in a deep breath before answering.
“It’s Ms.”
“Ms. Brunard,” the man on the other side corrects himself. “I’m terribly sorry to have to inform you...”
I barely hear the rest as I sink down on the edge of my mattress, the pain in my chest ballooning to where I’
m beyond functioning. All I manage is a hoarse, “Thank you,” when the man stops talking, and I double over, wrapping my arms around me in an attempt to hold myself together. A low keening sound fills my ears and I realize it’s coming from me.
Time stands still. I have no idea whether I’ve been curled up on my mattress for minutes or hours, all I know is when my phone rings, my throat is raw and my chest feels like my heart’s been ripped right out of it. I push myself up and find my phone at the foot end of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I answer, after seeing the number for Florence House appear on the display.
“You’re not that late,” Brenda answers. “I’m just getting the group started and thought I’d give your phone one more try. Everything okay?”
I struggle to get my bearings when I notice it’s getting dark outside. “Group?” I mumble, a little confused.
“Your Monday group? Pam? What’s going on?”
Monday?
I take the phone away from my ear to look at the display. It’s Monday, and it’s a little after seven p.m., almost thirty-six hours after I left Dino’s house. I struggle to remember the hours but only have vague impressions of shuffling to the bathroom before curling up in bed again. I can’t even remember day turning to night and back again. Just flashes of numbly responding to my body’s primary needs.
I also notice on my screen that there are a large number of missed calls.
“Pam?” I hear the tinny voice of Brenda coming from the phone I’m holding in my lap and quickly bring it back to my ear.
“I’m here,” I manage, my voice sounding not much better. “Something’s come up.”
“Are you sick? Do you need anything?” There’s an edge of worry to her voice that should warm me, but it leaves me oddly cold.
“I need some time,” I say, ignoring her questions. “Can you and Doris manage?”
“Of course. You don’t sound well, is there someone I can—”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be in touch,” I cut her off and end the call, not needing the reminder that there is no one.
Not anymore.
Dino
Three days I’ve tried to connect with her. Three fucking days of voice messages, texts, and calls to the shelter. Nothing. Fucking nada. The girl who answered the phone at Florence House this afternoon said she was taking some time off and couldn’t say when she’d be back.
I’m not sure what happened after I whisked Gina out of the house Sunday morning, but I’m positive something did. Yes, the situation had been a little uncomfortable, but even if that had been enough to scare her off, I’m pretty confident she’d never have left Jonas hanging. He came home yesterday and I’m worried about him. He seems even more withdrawn, and I heard him and Gina fight last night, but neither will say what it’s about. This morning they weren’t talking and I feel at a loss, which only adds to my frustration I can’t get hold of Pam.
I’m not the only one. Detective Barnes called me yesterday, letting me know that both those punks were picked up driving a stolen car the night before. Despite their parents’ money and social standing, he assured me they wouldn’t be let out on bail this time. He mentioned trying to contact Pam as well, but hadn’t been successful and was hoping I’d be able to pass on the message.
Jonas assures me he’ll be fine alone at home, and I’ve already taken too much time off, so I let Gunnar know I’ll be in today. With Gina off to school and my boy installed on the couch with drinks, snacks, the remote, and the house phone, I head out to The Skipper. I resist the compulsion to drive by Pam’s house—for the second time—but it’s no use. I automatically turn left instead of right at the end of my street, part of me knowing I’ll likely find her car still gone from her driveway, just like it was yesterday when I drove by twice. Borderline obsessive, that’s what I’ve become and it pisses me off.
Sure enough, the driveway is empty, and today’s Portland Press joined the previous two on her doorstep. With a frustrated squeal of my wheels, I speed away from her house, determined to get some answers today.
“Morning.” A much too cheery Viv is already pulling bins from the pantry. I grunt in response, hanging up my coat and wrapping my apron around my waist. “How’s Jonas?”
“Sore,” I tell her, grabbing a couple of cutting boards from the cupboard. “But getting better.”
“Good.” She nods.
“Where’s Pam?”
She turns to face me, and from the surprise on her face, I know what the answer will be.
“Pam? At work I assume,” she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Is she okay? Ike mentioned she came to the hospital with you, but he told me she wasn’t hurt. I haven’t been able to get hold of her yet. Why?” She’s pinning me with a suspicious glare, and I’m tempted to blow it off to avoid her scrutiny, but I can’t. Something is up with Pam.
“I can’t get hold of her, she’s apparently taken some time off work and her car hasn’t been in her driveway.”
Without saying anything, Viv walks over to grab the phone and dials.
“Hey, Brenda, it’s Viv. Listen, is Pam there?” I watch her face as the woman on the other end likely tells her the same thing she’s been telling me. “Really? That’s not like her. Did she say anything else?” The curious expression Viv wears is replaced by one of concern. “I know...odd. Are you guys managing?...All right, I’ll take over the group tonight. No worries.” She hangs up the phone and turns to me. “What happened? Brenda says she tried calling Sunday when she didn’t show up, and all through Monday night when she finally managed to get through. She says Pam sounded like she was in bad shape.” The uneasy feeling I’ve been trying—and failing—to ignore these past few days, takes over. “Dino? What the hell happened?”
I’m pretty sure neither Ike or Gunnar are the kind of guys to speculate out loud about whether or not there’s something going on between Pam and I, although I know they noticed Saturday night.
“Gina came home Sunday morning, earlier than expected, it was awkward.”
“Wait...awkward? Are you telling me Pam spent the night? With you?” Her disbelief grates on me.
“That so hard to believe? Yes—not that I owe you an explanation,” I point out defensively, “—but we left the hospital late, she crashed at mine, and the next morning Gina was dropped off before we got up. Pam offered to take a cab home and I agreed. Only because I had my little girl, who had no idea yet her brother was attacked the night before and was in the hospital. It didn’t seem an appropriate moment for her to also deal with...” I’ve run out of steam. It also doesn’t help Gunnar stands in the doorway, snickering behind Viv, whose eyes seem to get bigger with every word I purge. “Pam.” I finish lamely.
“I swear—” Viv fans herself dramatically as she talks. “—I don’t know how much more I can take. Not only have I just witnessed the most stoic man I know suffer from flustered, verbal diarrhea, but finally—finally—you two have obviously come to the same conclusion the rest of us figured out fucking years ago. Alleluia!” Viv throws her arms in the air and Gunnar busts out laughing behind her.
I take in the scene for no more than a second before dousing all hilarity with cold reality.
“So where is Pam?” Repeating my earlier question has the desired effect. The silence in the kitchen is instantaneous.
“What do you mean; where’s Pam?” Gunnar’s face is dead serious as he stalks into the kitchen. I open my mouth to explain—again—when Viv jumps in and swiftly fills Gunnar in. Before I have a chance to weigh in, he has his phone to his ear.
“Hey, Bird,” he mumbles and I know he’s talking to Syd. “You heard from Pam at all?”
Apparently Syd has no clue and after Ruby shows up for her shift, she makes it clear she doesn’t know either. It isn’t until later that evening, when Tim walks into the kitchen with his brother Mark following close behind, that I see something other than surprise at her disappearance. Tim is as clueless as the rest of us, but I can tell Mark knows somethi
ng from the way he avoids my eyes.
“Spill,” I snap, as I step into his space. I’m at the end of my rope and the fact this guy clearly knows more about her than the rest of us do, doesn’t exactly sit well. He brings up his hands defensively between us.
“Not my place, brother,” he says, with a regretful shake of his head. Frustration, worry, and yes, even jealousy, has Mark shoved against the wall, my arm pinning him by the neck. I don’t care he’s an ex-cop. I don’t care he’s rumored to work with the FBI. All I know is that he’s blocking access to Pam.
“You know,” I spit in his face, while Tim is making attempts to intervene, which I ignore. “Something’s happened or she would never, ever take off and let us worry. Talk!” I lean my weight into my arm, watching Mark’s face get redder with no small measure of satisfaction. Motherfucker. I’m suddenly pulled back, Tim on one arm and Gunnar, who must’ve heard the commotion, on the other.
“Easy, my friend,” Gunnar rumbles in my ear before turning to Mark. “As you can see, our friendly giant here has reached the end of his tether. If you have any information, I’d consider sharing.” Mark’s eyes dart from his brother, to Gunnar, and finally to me, before he lets out a deep sigh, his hand distractedly rubbing at his throat.
“You have to understand,” he starts. “I’m guessing she has her reasons for not telling anyone. Dammit, she didn’t exactly tell me. I didn’t clue in until recently when I heard her last name. She’s always just been Pam to me. When I heard Brunard, I knew I’d heard the name before but I couldn’t place it. This weekend I caught a short article in the paper that made all the pieces fall into place. An inmate at Greenhaven Correctional Facility was found dead in his isolation cell. His name was Derrick Taylor.”
“Motherfucker,” I snap. “What the fuck does any of it have to do with Pam?” When Mark turns to me, it’s with regret, but also anger in his eyes.
“Look it up,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t make me tell you a secret she’s obviously worked hard to keep. I’ve already said more than she’ll be happy with. Don’t make me sell out a friend.” I meet his intense stare dead on, before I finally pull my phone from my back pocket and type, Derrick Taylor, into my browser. I click on the first listing and start reading until my eye catches on something.
