What Lies Beneath The Flowerbed

by D. M. Thornton

  I take Gray’s hands in mine. “Change is scary, but it can be a good thing, too. You have to believe in it, Gray. Trust in it.” I put my hand over her heart. “Trust in this.”

  Gray shakes her head. “But don’t you see, I can’t. I’m beginning to think that I’m my own worst enemy. No, I can’t trust myself. Those feelings you talk about...I feel them too, with Jett. It’s sure to destroy me, Andi. One wrong move and he’ll find out what I really am.”

  “He’ll find out what? That you’re an amazing, beautiful person who would do anything for anyone, even kill for them? Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten what you did for me. If someone can’t see your gold heart, they aren’t worth your time. But Jett is a good guy, Gray. Let him in.” I wrap my arms around her for a hug and speak directly into her ear. “Don’t push him away, he’s good for you. I know it.”

  “Drew’s good for you, too,” Gray says.

  I pull back so I can see her face. “I hope so, because I’m a wreck. I haven’t heard from him this last week. I’m not gonna lie, it’s making me nervous, but I trust in him...in us.”

  There’s another eruption of thunder and a slap of lightning off in the distance that lights up the night sky. It’s bright enough to illuminate Gray’s face. Her hair, too, is molded to her face and her eyes...they’re, I dunno, I can’t find the right word. Pained.

  “Give him time, Andi. He’ll come around,” she says with certainty.

  My brows pull together in a frown. “How do you know?”

  “I just do.” Gray looks up at the sky, squinting against the large drops of rain. “What do you say we get out of the rain? Call you tomorrow?”

  I nod, but before she gets in her car, I pull back on her hand. “I’m sorry about throwing your beaten face at you like a pile of dog shit. Don’t be mad at Jaz, I literally tickled it out of her. She had no choice in the matter, and it was wrong of me to kick her under the bus like that. I have to know, though, why wouldn’t you call me? You know Jaz and I both would have been there in a second. For everything that you’ve done for me...it’s my turn, Gray.”

  Gray leans forward and kisses my cheek. “I’m not mad, Andi. In all honesty, I should have called you guys, but I was being stupid. It won’t happen again. And one day I’ll tell you all about it, but not right now. Right now, I’m getting out of the rain so I can go home and dry off. I’m fucking cold!”

  “True that, bitch. Talk to you later.”

  Gray hops in her car and slams the door before the rain rushes in. Holding up her hands in front of the window, she draws a heart with her two index fingers, then points at me before holding up a peace sign.

  Love you, too.

  Chapter 35

  Jaz

  Motherfucker, it’s raining like a pissing cow out here. I sprint from my car into the gym and shake myself off like a wet dog. Expecting to see a facility full of sweaty people, I’m surprised to see that there is only one person, Cole, standing in the middle of a boxing ring. I’m glad I made the decision to meet Cole rather than go shopping with Andi and Gray. This will be much more fun.

  “What’s up, hot stuff?” I ask, strolling through the gym. I plop my gym bag down at my feet and look up at Cole’s glistening chest that’s covered in sweat.

  Bummer, he started without me.

  My eyes roam around his upper body, down his rippled abs to his toned legs, then fixate at the thick bulge that’s between his thighs.

  Well, hello there, Mr. Bojangles.

  “My cock,” Cole hums, jutting out his hips so that his junk pops in his workout shorts. “What’s up with you?”

  “If I had a penis, it would be giving you the Hitler salute, for sure. But since I have a pussy, what’s up is my lady boner. The clit is hard as a rock.” I grin. “Where is everyone?”

  Cole jumps down out of the ring and wraps me in his arms, kissing my lips tenderly. “It’s just you and me, baby. I rented the whole place out, just for us.”

  I tilt my head back so I can look up at him. “No shit. Hm, nice.” I take a bite of his neck, sucking his flesh between my teeth, then lick my lips clean of his sweat. “Yummy.”

  “I’m starting to wonder how much of a workout we’re gonna get done here,” Cole mutters.

  I laugh. “I’ll work out when you whip your cock out.” I smirk. I poke him in the ribs with the tip of my finger. “But seriously, let’s do this. I’ve always wanted to try boxing, so the stick me with your dick part of our workout will have to wait until after.”

  Cole guffaws and slaps my ass, making me squeal with delightful pain. “Get your ass in the ring, woman,” he demands.

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I climb under the ropes and pose with my hands on my hips, waiting for Cole to get in the ring with me. He tosses some pads onto the mat, chucks a pair of gloves at me, and says, “Put these on.”

  I swipe them up and slip my fists in. “Are these clean?”

  He glares at me through crooked brows. “Yeah, they’ve been sanitized.”

  “So you’re saying other people have used them?” I ask.

  “Uh, yeah, that’s what I’m saying. They’re clean. I promise.”

  “How do you know for sure? I mean, it’s nasty to use something that someone else had their sweaty hands in. Gross.” I mock shiver and wrinkle my face in disgust.

  “Well, let’s put it this way. There are worse things you could be touching, like a sweaty jockstrap. Just think what it would be like to put one of those suckers on after someone else used it.”

  I grin. “If it was your jockstrap, I’d cover my face with it like an oxygen mask.”

  Coles head flops forward on a shake. “Damn, you never cease to amaze me.” It takes him a second to compose himself, but when he manages to control his laughter, he spreads his legs to crouch down and throws up his hands that are holding a large body pad. “Hit me.”

  With an I’m-not-sure-what-I’m-doing-but-okay shrug, I punch my fist into the pad. Cole doesn’t move even the slightest. He stands up straight. “Are you serious right now? I know you have some power in those arms of yours, so hit me like you mean it.”

  “Okay.” I jab my arm and punch the pad with all my strength, causing Cole’s torso to jerk.

  “Better. Again.”

  Every time I punch, Cole yells, “Again,” and, “Harder,” so I give it all I’ve got until sweat is pouring off of me and I’m hunched over at the waist with my hands on my knees gulping in deep breaths. “Shitballs, this is hard.”

  Cole brings me a bottle of water and orders me to drink. “Let’s work on some kicks, then we’re going to put it all together in some combos. Got it?”

  I’m too weak to fully lift my head, so my eyes will have to do. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. Take a three minute break and then get back to it.”

  I release a heavy groan and stand straight. “Let’s do it.”

  I’m telling you, this boxing business is no fucking joke. My legs feel like they’re going to break off at any moment, my heart very well might explode clear out of my chest, my abs are on fire, and let’s not forget the sweating. Here’s a mental picture for you—a drowned rat doesn’t look nearly as wet and disgusting as I do. I believe every ounce of water that has been retained in my body has vacated the premises and is pooled on the mat of the ring. We need a Caution: Slippery When Wet sign. My face is beet red, my hair is sitting on top of my head in sopping curls, and my clothes could be wrung out and hung to dry. It’s fucking ridiculous.

  After Cole has me do every kick known to man, he gives me one more break for water then gets into position. “This time, you’re going to do combos using both punches and kicks. Remember the orders or you’ll be doing push-ups.”

  I’m panting, gasping...swallowing as much air as I can to fill my burning lungs as he instructs me on all the ways he wants me to combine the punches and kicks. It’s too much for my exhausted brain to remember, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be doing
push-ups because I can’t remember all his stupid combinations. I focus on Cole’s instructions as he barks orders. Fuck this. “Goddamn, you’re fucking Sergeant Hartman, you bastard.”

  Cole drops the pad and attaches to my side so his cock rubs up on my outer thigh.

  Tease!

  He doesn’t bend to talk at my level, which is flopped over at the moment. Instead, he begins screaming at the top of his lungs from where he stands. “Do you find me cute, Private?” Do you think I’m sexy?”

  I giggle. “Sir, actually I do, Sir.”

  Cole takes the back of my tank top between his fingers and yanks me upward. “Prepare to mount!” he hollers.

  “No problem. Me love you long time, Sir Hartman, Sir.” I spin and grab a handful of Cole’s cock in my palm and give it a firm squeeze.

  With a jerk of his hips, Cole gasps. “Whoa there ball-buster, you still need to finish your workout.”

  “Fuck the workout. Let’s make up our own routine. I say we add some cock-sucking and pussy-macking. Huh, huh...what do ya say?” I attack Cole with my hands, playfully pinching and groping every bit of his slick bare skin.

  He laughs and swats at my hands. “Don’t you worry your pretty li’l head. That will be your reward for finishing.”

  “Ah, cumtwat. Fine, but when you’re done slowly killing me, you better resuscitate me by blowing air up my pussy and giving me cock compressions. Deal?”

  Cole takes my hand and gives it a solid shake. “Deal.”

  There’s something carnal about boxing. The way our bodies are coated with perspiration, the smell of damp flesh, the moans, groans, and grunts...it’s all very primal. And it’s making me as horny as sin. Needless to say, I’m tossing out combos like a crazy beast, because I have my eye on the prize. The prize being what is hiding in Cole’s pants. My mouth is watering. I can almost taste him on my tongue. And at this point, I’ll do whatever it takes to be done with this workout so I can have him down my throat.

  “Argh!” I scream, pushing myself to the brink to follow through with a right then a left, and end with a roundhouse kick. I collapse on my back, my arms and legs sprawled out like I’m roadkill. “I’m done!” I whine. “Seriously, we’ve been going at it nonstop for an hour. I’m over it.” I let out an exaggerated wail and curse, “Fucking bullshit!”

  Cole chucks the pad across the ring and mounts me, pressing his lips to mine. “You’re a fuckin’ animal,” he growls between kisses. “Goddamn, I’m so fuckin’ hard.”

  “What the hell are you waiting for then? Whip that baby out! I want you to fuck my mouth. I want you to squirt your jizz all over my breasts. I want you to do filthy, nasty things to me.”

  On a boisterous laugh, Cole shimmies out of his shorts then frees me from my clothes. “You’re not gettin’ a mouth full of sausage tonight, sweetheart. It’s your turn.”

  “But...” I start to protest.

  He covers my mouth with his slimy palm. “Are you seriously going to argue with a man who’s about to chow down on your delectable pussy? Let me do my thing, woman.”

  I bite the pads of his fingers, which makes him chuckle. He slides down my body, kissing and snipping at my skin. Yep...oh God...why on earth would I ever refuse...dear lord have mercy, we’ve made contact. My back curves in an arch, coming up off the mat as the tip of Cole’s tongue grazes my clit. There’s not a single thought of how bad I must smell from working out or how me sweating profusely for the past hour has altered the taste of my pussy, because apparently it doesn’t bother Cole one bit. He’s mackin’ down like he’s eating a Big Mac, so who am I to stop him?

  Oh good gawd, he’s twirling his tongue like a tornado then slows his pace down, lapping my drippings up like he’s licking gravy off a spoon. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” I scream, pounding my fists on the mat, which makes a loud whopping sound echo around the gym. “Goddammit! Lick that pussy. Just. Like. That!”

  I can’t tell if Cole is laughing or moaning with his face being buried so deep in my snatch. Hell, he could be crying tears of pussy joy for all I know. And I don’t care. As long as he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Holy crappola, I’m having an out of body experience, literally. Is it possible to be light as a feather while being stiff with spasms? I’m telling ya, my body is pressed into the mat preparing for an epic orgasm while my soul is being set free. I swear I’m looking down at my squirming body, watching peacefully as Cole finger fucks me and smothers my clit with his beautiful tongue. I’m floating above my seizing body, cheering myself on.

  Get it, girl. Almost there, mothafucka. Get it. Get it. Get it.

  My head is shaking from side to side, my vision is blurred, my tummy is constricting, my legs are quivering, and like a rocket, my core explodes, sending me to outer space on a high that has my whole body convulsing. And with soft, gentle strokes of his tongue, Cole brings me down from the clouds and levels me off. My vision returns and my heart rate begins to slow. I’ve found peace. I’ve found contentment. By golly, I think I may have found love.

  Chapter 36

  Gray

  I look like a clown. It doesn’t matter how many times I spin around to look at all the different angles of myself in the mirror, it doesn’t change the fact that being dressed like I belong on the top floor of a swanky high-rise building as the CEO of some hoity-toity firm is absolutely ridiculous. And really, why did I bother getting all dolled up in hopes that Jett stops by after he gets off his shift? He might not even come to begin with, and I’m getting my hopes up for nothing. And if he does show up, it’s not like we’re going on a date. Hell, he’ll want to take my new outfit off anyway. Though I’m not too sure that I want to attempt a third round of Poke the Pussy in hopes that, with a small sliver of chance, he can poke it ‘til it pops. I’m a little more realistic in terms of it’s just not happening for me and it may never. I’m all right with that...I have no other choice. All in all, I’m probably worrying about nothing, because he most likely won’t even come. And if he does come, it will be past my bedtime, so...yeah.

  You know, there was a time, not so long ago, that I didn’t constantly fret over every little teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy, minute thing. I’m at the point where I’m annoying myself, and yet, I can’t fucking stop.

  Make it stop. Please! Make. It. Stop.

  But nope, I’m going to sit on my couch while I hold this glass of Riesling, freshly showered, dressed to the nines in my brand new white button-down blouse and my just above the knee high-waisted pencil skirt, with my feet squished into a pair of black heels that needed a sander to remove all the caked on dust that settled on top of the box for the past...oh, I dunno, ten years, maybe even longer. I believe I purchased these shoes for my mother’s funeral, actually, and that was the one and only time I’ve worn them. And yes, I did actually go to the woman’s funeral. Do you think I’m that heartless? Okay, maybe I am, and maybe I did spit on her closed casket...so sue me. I’m sure there are people who would have done worse had they endured what that God awful woman put me through. So, sorry, not sorry.

  Yep, I’m going to just sit here on my couch and stare at the wall, and hope that I don’t fall asleep while I’m waiting, because as I previously said, it’s past my bedtime. Well, for a school night that is. When it comes to the weekend, we all know what I’m usually doing with my time and it’s no easy task. So, I’m up ‘til all hours of the night making sure there’s not one shred of evidence left after I bury those motherfuckers in my garden.

  And now I’m just rambling. What? I can’t help it, I’m sorry! We can chalk it up to me being on my third glass of wine already. Yeah, you’re right. I best be slowing down on the ol’ chugga chugga, but isn’t it obvious? I’m a wee bit nervous...no anxious...no hyped up...oh hellz bellz, I don’t even know what I am.

  I’ve stopped looking at the clock, so I deserve a pat on the back for that, because I seriously have been glancing at it every minute and a half for the past two hours. And do you want to know what time it is? You’ve guessed it. It’s
only nine o’clock. I chuckle quietly as I sing the lyrics to “Piano Man” to myself. Oh wait, you didn’t peg me for the break out in song type, now did ya? You’d be surprised. I do know other music besides classical piano, I just prefer to listen to something soothing while I’m working. Or when my nerves are frazzled-dazzled, or if I’m feeling overly anxious and obsessive compulsive, as I may be feeling right now.

  OMG. Stop it!

  Anyway, contrary to what anyone might believe, I’m a musical guru. It’s true, I swear. You can drop a name of a song, and I can tell you who sang it and in what year it was recorded. And I can sing it word for word, too. Anything from Motown, Jazz, Country, Rap—yes, I do like some rap, not all, but some—Pop, R&B, Reggae, Rock, and everything in between. And even though I have some genres that I prefer to listen to over others, I am secretly a musical genius. Okay, well I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just saying that no one really knows how much music has influenced my life. It has gotten me through some very difficult times, and isn’t it amazing how there is a song for everything? And how it can be related to what is happening in your life at that very moment you are listening to it? Yep, music is my go-to. I’d rather sit and listen to music or read than watch TV.

  So, even though my go-to is classical, I thought I’d change it up for tonight. Well, it seemed to be a wise decision, but now I’m not so sure. See, I’m trying to channel my inner Jaz, because, let’s face it, Andi’s music is borderline demonic, but Jaz’s, on the other hand, is...sexy, for lack of a better word. And you know what? I believe it’s putting me in the mood. The first song that comes on is “Monster” by Imagine Dragons. Seriously, though, this is my jam. I swear they wrote this song just for me. I am the monster. Do I seem dangerous? Are you scared? Well, maybe not so much, but I am carrying the burden of my past and it’s settled itself inside me. I’ve often wondered if I would have been different had I not had the mother that I had or been abused. Had I had a normal upbringing, maybe I wouldn’t be carrying around this monster inside me. But then again, maybe the outcome would have been the same. Either way, this song describers me a bit too well.