by Alex Grayson
I’ve never wanted to have just one girl. I like being able to pick a different one every night. I don’t want to be tied down to just one. That life sounds so boring. How can you be with the same person for years and not get tired of the same old thing?
But with Willow, I can’t seem to get enough. She makes me feel more than I’ve felt before. She makes me want to come back for more. Every time I have her, it only makes my need grow. It’s unexplainable because I still don’t know shit about her, except that she likes to be watched like I do, even if she’s still reluctant to admit it. I also know she cares about her friends. I know she’s a hard worker from what Nathan’s told me. I know she’s good with kids and would be an excellent mother. From the way she is with Luna, I know she wants kids one day. I know the death of her father and the recent death of her mother still tear her up inside. I know she’s tough because she doesn’t let that show. I like her and my friends like her, and I want to know more of her. I want to know everything about her. I also know she’s hiding something. That phone call that first night scared her. I saw it in her eyes. I want to take that fear away.
I push back all those thoughts and carry her to the bed. My cock slides out of her and my cum leaks out, reminding us both we didn’t use a condom.
“You’re on the pill, right?” I ask, grabbing a towel from a stack on a chair. The thought of not using a condom should terrify me, but it doesn’t. I’ve always been careful and for some strange reason I trust Willow.
I walk back to the bed and hand the towel to her. Her eyes don’t meet mine as she grabs it.
“Umm… I used to be?” She forms it as a question, like she’s not sure. Panic has her eyes widening comically, and if the situation wasn’t so serious, I would laugh.
“Shit shit shit,” she mutters to herself, using the towel to quickly wipe away our combined release. Her movements are short, jerky, and rough. She’s going to hurt herself if she’s not careful.
“Hey,” I call, but she doesn’t hear me. “Hey!” I say louder and sit on the side of the bed. I put my hand over hers, stilling her agitated movements. Her eyes bounce to mine and she bites her lip.
“I was on the pill until a couple weeks ago. I didn’t have time to refill the prescription before I left Texas, and I ran out. I have an appointment with my new doctor to get back on the pill next week.” She finishes with a swallow.
“Shit happens, okay? I’ve always been careful and never gone bare before, and I trust you would have told me anything I needed to know the first time we had sex.”
She nods. “But what about a baby? I could get pregnant.”
The thought’s crossed my mind, but again, it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. It’s crazy to think she would be sexy as all hell swollen with my baby in her belly. Freak-out mode should commence right about now, but I’m as cool as a cucumber.
“If that does happen, we’ll deal with it,” I tell her simply.
She searches my eyes for several seconds before nodding again. “Okay.”
“When do Minnie and the others get back?” I ask.
She looks over at the clock on the nightstand. “A few more hours yet.”
“Good,” I growl, and grab her waist, hauling her toward me. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
My fingers run through the soft strands of Willow’s thick black hair. Her hot breath fans across my chest as she lies there and walks her fingers over my pecs. We’re both naked, our limbs tangled together. It feels peaceful being here with her like this. I’ve always been a cuddler with the women I sleep with. It’s the least I can do after fucking their brains out, but it’s never been this comfortable, never felt this right.
“Are you okay?” Willow asks the darkness, tracing the dips and ridges of my stomach muscles. Her hands are so soft.
I sigh and gather her hair up and loop it a couple times around my fist. I love how it’s so long that I can do this.
Her question comes as no surprise. I’ve been waiting for her to ask it. I pretty much attacked her earlier. I dread this shit. It’s not that it bothers me to talk about my mother; I don’t think Willow will look at me with disgust. I was just a kid, so there was nothing I could do to stop what was going on. It’s just when I do, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. That woman sours everything, and I don’t want her to sour what Willow and I have.
“I went to see my mother today,” I say quietly.
Willow’s hand stills and she lifts her head to look at me. I can’t see her very well in the darkness, but I can guess her expression is questioning. I want her to go back to the way she was. I liked her head on my chest, her fingers playing along my skin.
“Is she okay?” Her question is hesitant, like she’s worried I won’t answer.
“She’s dying.” I give her the truth.
She sucks in a sharp breath, and I know what’s coming.
“I’m so sorry, Tegan,” she says so softly I can barely hear her. Her head dips down and she lays a tender kiss on my sternum.
“Don’t be. I’m looking forward to the day she dies.”
Willow jerks in my arms, and I know I’ve shocked her. I pull in a deep breath and sit up with my back to the headboard. I turn on the lamp on the nightstand. Willow’s mouth hangs open and her brows are pulled into a frown. I reach out and pull her between my spread thighs, so her back is to my chest. My arms go around her middle, and I settle my chin on her shoulder.
“I didn’t have the typical childhood. My mom—” I hesitate, searching for the right word and not finding it. “—was fucked in the head.” Willow’s hands squeeze my forearms. “When I was five years old, she started changing. She became sad and depressed, never wanting to do anything except sit on the couch and watch TV. She was tired all the time and always looked pale. I remember thinking her face looked like a ghost’s. Still to this day, we don’t know what brought on the change. My dad’s work had him leaving for days at a time, so I was alone with her. He never thought anything bad would happen to me, as the worst he ever saw was her moping sadly around the house.”
I remember those first few weeks. I tried so hard to make my mom smile. I colored her pictures. I made her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. I’d sit on her lap, and using my little boy imagination, told her stories. Nothing ever worked. She’d smile, but even to my young mind, it was fake.
“One day, several weeks after she started changing, a man came to the house. Mom told me the man wanted to meet me and play with me in my room, that he didn’t have any little boys of his own to play with. There were going to be other men in the room watching because they wanted to learn how to play with boys. Her smile was sad and there were tears in her eyes when she told me this, so I thought if I did it, it would make her happy. I didn’t have friends, so I thought it would be cool to play with him.”
Willow stiffens in my arms, but I tighten mine around her and keep my chin on her shoulder. Memories of that first day flash in my mind and it has me grinding my teeth together.
“I’m sure you can guess the man wasn’t there to play cars with me. He stripped me down and told me to get on the bed. The first few times wasn’t that bad, just a few touches here and there. They’d make me do stuff to them more than they did to me.”
“Tegan…” Willow whispers brokenly, digging her nails in my forearms.
“Shh,” I say in her ear. I’d rather get this over and done with, so we can move on from it. “This went on for a year. The men started doing more to me. It only ever happened when Dad was gone. She said something bad would happen if we ever told Dad or anyone else about it. Most of the times it was a different man, but there were a few that came back regularly. There was one particular man that was especially cruel. I tried to tell my mom that they hurt me, but she said I had to be a big boy and do what the men wanted me to do. I still loved her, but a small part of me hated her too. She’d always apologize before they came and when they left, but she still let them come anyway.
>
“The other men in the room that watched never bothered me. I could block out the groans they made and pretend they weren’t there. Mom and Dad started arguing. He was tired of her moping around, doing nothing. I heard them yelling a lot about her going to get psychiatric help, but she always refused, promising to get better. She never did. One day, while my dad was gone, she packed both herself and me a bag, and we left. The first six months were wonderful. I had my mom back. She was happy again, and so was I. Then one day, a man showed up at the house and it started all over again. The cruel man from before was one of them.”
Willow sniffles in front of me, and I squeeze my arms around her, pulling her closer to me. My voice is flat when I continue.
“Three years after we left my dad, he found us. He knew what was going on, because one of the men that came to the house was part of a pedophile ring. He listed off names for a plea bargain. After a psych evaluation, my mom was labeled mentally unstable and put into a psychiatric facility. She’s been there ever since. A few months ago, I got a call saying she had terminal brain cancer. She’s been comatose for the last couple months. I’ve been visiting her once a week for those two months. Waiting.”
I turn quiet and stare across the dark room. My chest feels hollow, and if it wasn’t for the warm body in my arms, I’d be cold.
Willow shifts around until she’s facing me, her legs draped over mine and our chests only inches apart. Her hands settle against my lower stomach. Through the little bit of light in the room, I can just make out her sad expression and the tears in her eyes. I hate the look. No one should ever look sad or cry about my mom.
“Waiting for what?” She clears her throat when her voice comes out scratchy.
I hold her eyes when I say firmly, “For her to die.”
She swallows, then nods. “I am so very sorry that happened to you.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and wipe away a tear sliding down her face.
“Don’t be. My dad found the best counselors, and I’m fine. Yes, I hate thinking about it, and I hate the woman even more, and sometimes I still have dreams, but I don’t let what happened affect me. I don’t give her that power. She had the power for way too long, and I refuse to give her more of it.”
“I hate her, too. I hate that you didn’t have a mom that loved you the way she was supposed to.” She looks to the side, then brings her watery gaze back to me. Her voice is a bare whisper when she says, “I can’t wait for her to die too.”
I smile sadly at her, then lift her up so she’s sitting sideways on my lap. I tuck her head against my shoulder and lazily run my fingers against her naked back.
“How long have you been into exhibitionism?” she asks, running her fingers absently through the short hairs on my stomach.
“I’ve always been into it.”
I know where this is leading, and I don’t know what to tell her, because I don’t know the answer.
“Do you…” Her fingers stop moving at the same time she stops talking, then they both start again. “Do you think what happened to you as a kid has anything to do with that?”
“To be honest, I have no clue. I don’t want to think that she influenced my life in any way, but I can’t say for sure. When I’m with someone and someone else is watching, I don’t think about the past. I don’t think about the men watching me as a kid. When I think about those men getting off on what someone was doing to me, it makes me sick and rage fills me. I’m not some sick person with mommy issues, trying to still please her as an adult. All I feel is hatred for her. But now, as an adult, with other adults in the room, I get hard knowing others enjoy what my partner and I are doing. I like showing others what I have. It’s hard to explain, but having power over giving pleasure to another adult is a huge turn-on for me.”
She’s quiet when I’m done talking, I’m sure analyzing my words. I’ve thought over my need to have people watch while I have sex and the need to show off my lover many times. I’ve even talked with a counselor about it. He told me that, although it’s not common practice for people to have that need, the fantasy of being watched is more common than people think. However, when I was younger and first experimenting with my need, my case was a more extreme one because I didn’t care where I was. Hell, I could be in the middle of the mall and want to find a willing partner and fuck her in the food court. I had to learn to curb my appetite for that, and I now have control over it.
“I like it,” Willow says out of the blue.
I smile and kiss the top of her head as I tweak one of her nipples. I’m glad we’ve moved on from talking about my mother. She has no place in my life anymore. Hasn’t for a long time. The bitch can rot in hell while I smile and pinky wave at her. Besides my father, and the couple times I’ve spoken with my friends about her, I never bring her up.
“I know you do.”
My hand moves down her flat stomach until it rest over her pubic bone. Her breath hitches, and I love the sound. My dick starts growing against her hip, and I know she feels it when she shifts away slightly to give it room to expand.
“I never thought I would be into something like that, but like you said, there’s… just something exhilarating about knowing you have the power to make others feel good.”
This woman totally understands me.
With her still in my arms, I swivel my hips around and touch my feet to the floor. Bridal style, I lift her from the bed. Her arms go around my neck, holding on tight. I fucking love the feel of her in my arms.
“Where are we going?” she questions against my neck.
“I wanna fuck you in the shower.”
She moans and licks up the side of my neck, sending shivers of fucking delight over my body.
The night started out great, and then turned intense. I’m about to end it on an explosion.
Chapter Ten
Willow
I look up when a file folder drops down on my desk. Nathan’s standing on the other side with a man dressed in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos covering his arms, black slacks, shaggy dark brown hair, and glasses. Not your typical businessman look.
The man is hot as sin. I know his name is Asher Knight, and that Nathan used to work for him as a security guard. I also know he’s married, and the man is completely gaga over his wife. I overheard Nathan and Tegan talking one day about Mr. Knight stalking her for a year before he “made her his” according to Nathan.
I break my eyes away from Mr. Knight and direct them to Nathan when he starts talking.
“I need you to draw up a contract for Silver Technologies and email it over. All the information you need for the contract is in that file.”
I look at Nathan and raise a brow. His jaw turns hard, but he mutters, “Please.”
I smile. “Right away, Nathan.”
I don’t laugh, because that would be mean, and I’m trying to teach Nathan how to be nice and not so gruff. However, I can’t help it when my lips twitch. He’s a good employer, but his social skills are flat. He barks and demands and doesn’t ask nicely. It’s a running joke on my part, even if he doesn’t think it’s funny.
Mr. Knight, on the other hand, doesn’t care about being nice, and lets out a deep laugh.
“Bastard,” Nathan growls, which only makes him laugh more. It’s obvious these two men are friends, or Nathan wouldn’t feel so comfortable about calling him a bastard. I seriously doubt Nathan’s social skills are so bad he would call just any client that.
Mr. Knight slaps Nathan’s back, still chuckling. “’Bout time someone teaches you manners.”
“Fuck off” is Nathan’s grumbled reply. He turns to me. “After you get the contract finished, knock off early today. There’s nothing else for you to do here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I grab the folder and place it in front of me, then pull up the program we use to draw up contracts.
“I’ll see you next week. Call Poppy and let h
er know if there’s anything else you need,” Mr. Knight says as he walks to the door.
Nathan grunts. “I’ll let Willow call her. I’m not too sure Poppy feels comfortable talking to me.”
I listen to the two men talk as I work. I sense a story behind Nathan’s words and briefly wonder what it is.
“Maybe if you’d stop fucking staring at people so damn intensely, Poppy would be fine,” Mr. Knight remarks. “It used to freak her out. Besides, she knows I’ll kill any fuckers that make her feel uncomfortable.”
I look up at him, expecting to see laughter in his eyes, but find them dead serious. There is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Knight would follow through with his threat.
He looks my way, his eyes still fierce, but not quite as deadly looking.
“On second thought, maybe you should be the one to call Poppy.”
I swallow and nod.
“Next week,” he calls, then walks through the door.
Nathan, without a word to me, which is normal for him, turns and goes back into his office. I get to work drawing up the contract, and once I’m done, email it over to the email address in the file. I don’t bother telling Nathan goodbye, just shut down the computer, gather my purse, and leave.
My phone rings as soon as I step outside into breezy air.
“Hey, Minnie. I’m leaving work early. Do you—” Her loud and frantic voice cuts me off midsentence.
“Willow, you need to come home now!”
“Why? What’s wrong? Is Luna okay?” My own voice sounds just as panicky as hers.
“She’s fine.” Minnie stops, and I can hear her heavy breathing through the phone. “He was here,” she whispers. “Me and Luna were gone, but Logan was here and answered the door.”
I stop in my tracks and my blood runs cold. I look up and turn in place, looking all around me. It’s probably my imagination, but I swear I feel his eyes on me. I miss my brother so much, but with the way he is right now, and the things I know he’s done, he scares the daylights out of me.
