He’d blindfolded me and ordered me to keep my hands on the headboard. I felt his heat lean over me and then frigid wet touched my nipple. My body shrunk from the cold and my hand instinctively slid to soothe the spot.
“No,” Gage ordered. “Move your hand again, we quit and go to sleep.”
Sleep? There was no way I could sleep. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded. “I won’t do it again.”
“Good girl.” It was a patronizing response, but as I was too turned on to force the issue and risk losing access to his gorgeous long, thickened cock, I kept my mouth shut.
Gage kissed my sealed lips, slow and sensual. It felt as if he asked for entrance there even as he took it.
When he pulled back, the ice hit my nipple again. My arm jerked in response, but I didn’t move. Then the stiffened peak got his warm, moist mouth.
I groaned.
He pulled away again and I braced for the freeze against that spot when it hit the seam of my sex. My thigh muscles contracted, but learning, I didn’t move. Instead pulling in a sharp, harsh breath.
As my reward, his tongue moved to lave along the ice trail. My thighs ached to open wider for him. I groaned louder. The ice hit the sensitive skin under my ear. His kisses moved there as his finger hit my center, pressing and rubbing gently and then… oh, god. The ice moved to my second nipple. My entire body began to vibrate. Need for release, need for Gage took over all extraneous thoughts.
He aligned himself and slammed into me at the exact moment a fresh cube of ice hit the overly sensitive nub at my center. No longer able to hold back, my body seized up tight and I came and came all over Gage as he continued to expertly pummel my sex, and I screamed out my pleasure. Without pausing, he quickly covered my mouth so we wouldn’t wake the whole floor.
And that was only the beginning.
The man was relentless, taking liberties with my body that no man had ever taken before, and he wouldn’t let up.
It’s not like I didn’t know what he was doing, replacing a bad memory from earlier in the day to give me something wonderful.
“Morning.” His words startle me as those gorgeous baby blues stare deeply and lovingly into mine and his bright smile hits those eyes, looking like they hold a secret only he and I share. The ache from last night fades, replaced by a savage want.
He only lets me take control for a few beats before he flips us, so I’m faced down under him.
“Love you, Gage.” I moan as he works my body so thoroughly I could almost forget that damn Michael wrecked my home. Almost.
Much later we head to the electronics store for an inexpensive laptop for Gage to use so he can keep up on his businesses back in Kentucky.
Once we’re back in the relative seclusion of the hotel room, he sets it up and has spreadsheets open, using the hotel’s Wi-Fi to access his files.
I watch him for a few moments before I move to the kitchen to prepare us lunch when the phone rings.
Smitty. “Hey, old man,” I chirp cheerily into the receiver, so cheerily he probably wouldn’t suspect my life had been turned upside-down yesterday.
“You sound in good spirits.”
“I’m… I’m just glad to have Gage back.”
“Well, I wanted to let you know we got the guard now. So whenever you’re ready, you can come back to work.”
Work. I miss working. I miss seeing the friendly faces every day. “I have to talk to Gage about it. We, um… had another setback yesterday.”
“Setback?” Smitty almost shouts. “What kind of setback?”
“A Michael setback. We’re staying in a hotel until my house is livable again.”
He chokes out a disbelieving cough. Smitty is such a good man. “You talk to him and get back to me, yeah?”
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll call you tonight to let you know.”
We hang up. Then I breathe out slowly, run my hands through my hair and approach Gage. “Babe, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He clicks off the spreadsheet and turns to me. “What’s up?”
“That was Smitty. He says it’s okay for me to return to work. They have the guard now.”
As I figured would happen, his face goes hard. But then it shifts before my eyes to contemplative. “You think that’s smart? I mean, after yesterday?”
I shrug. “Smitty has the cameras and hired a guard. Michael can’t control my life. If I don’t get back to work, I give him that power and he knows it.”
“Not lying, Liv. I understand it, but I don’t like it.”
“I want to be here with you. Knowing you’re lying next to me at night, I feel safe. But I miss work, too. I miss the people who have become friends, you know?”
He rubs his hands over his face. “Okay, but here’s the deal. I take you and pick you up. I don’t want him seeing your truck and popping in, even if the guard is there.”
“Okay,” I agree quickly.
Gage quirks his brows. “I wasn’t done. You call the police and you call me if you ever see him standing off property, or if you think it’s him standing off property. None of that second guessing ‘what if I’m wrong’ bullshit.”
Of course he’d ask that. I wring my hands together. He knows that’ll be a hard one for me. Not calling if I see him, but I’d hate to mess up some poor schmuck’s day because he happened to look similar to Michael from a distance.
Still…
“Okay. I promise.”
So he doesn’t look happy about it, more cautiously relieved. I can’t blame him. It’s not the best circumstance, but we have to take what we can get, right? This is our first step to a semblance of normalcy.
When I turn to go back to the kitchen, Gage grabs my arm to spin me. “We’ll get it back,” he whispers, then before I can respond, he kisses me slow and sweet. That’s when I know he understands my fears without me having to say a word. We will get it back. The security. The normal. The good.
After he lets me go, I move to continue making us food. I’ve got pasta going in the boiling water for the chicken Alfredo. The sauce already simmers in the pot.
This, this is what I want for us. Cooking dinner while he works on the computer. My last semester at DePaul was a bust after, well, after Chicago. But maybe if I explained what happened, they’d let me back into the program.
Elise manages the club; maybe Gage wouldn’t mind me taking over the accounting for the businesses. We could work together.
I think I’d like that, to work with Gage.
We eat. It’s comfortable, though Gage looks far off. He’s worried about me. I know it.
After dinner he cleans up while I phone Smitty. I’m on the schedule for the morning.
From there it’s a lazy evening. We watch a movie cuddled up on the sofa. Then we head to bed. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Gage holds me closer, tighter even as he falls asleep.
Unfortunately it takes me a bit longer to dial down my thoughts enough to rest. So caught up in them, I almost forget to set my alarm. But I do, and I eventually drift off.
Much too soon my eyes pop open to the shrill ringing of my alarm. I hardly feel like I got any sleep at all. I guess not giving Michael any more control over my life has taken more from me than I thought.
Dammit. I don’t want to break down again. Running from the man I love most in the world because of the memory of another man. What if I break again? What if… What if I can’t put myself back together again?
But if I let Gage know what’s going on in my mind, he won’t let me go back to work, and then my fears realized, they win. Michael wins, and… and Houdini.
After slipping out of bed, I sneak quietly to the shower. Apparently not quiet enough. Gage, natural golden skin and sun-kissed hair, bright blue eyes shining only for me and a morning erection carved by the gods of sex and beauty, slides into the shower with me.
With Gage, my morning fears wash down the drain and I step out refreshed and sated.
“Love you,” I tell him, towel drying my hair.
; “That’ll never get old. Love you too, baby. Loved you as a kid. I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”
“You’ve said that,” I tease.
His face sobers. “I know, but I need to make sure you believe it.” That’s on me, his doubt. I’ve earned it. I’ll take it. And I’ll do whatever it takes to give him back the confidence in me that I have in him. That I’ve always had in him—I just forgot for a while there.
At five to seven we roll into Smitty’s. The guard is already on premises. He stops us to check our IDs. Gage assures him he’ll be the one dropping me off every day in this specific truck.
We walk around to the back of the store, where I unlock the door. Our resident tabby and her brood acknowledge our presence by greeting us with a meow but nothing more. Gage helps by flicking on the lights in the back room, flooding the space in an almost brash, garish light as compared to the soft greenish hue of the security light.
The rest of start of shift goes smoothly. Since we cut it so close to opening, having to traverse through Virginia Beach morning rush hour, I wasn’t sure what to expect when we pulled in.
Now that we have an idea of how long we have to spend in traffic, we’ll be able to time our departures better—or have a little less frantic orgasmic morning sex. Who am I kidding? I live with Gage St. James. There’s no such thing as less sex.
He helps me load the cold cases, the first section with beer and soda. The second with juices and water. And lastly to fill stock on shelves wherever necessary. It’s nice to have his help, seeing as I had to open the store to customers only a few minutes after our arrival.
But he’s not fooling anyone, especially not me. He doesn’t want to leave. And I can’t blame him, as I’m not so keen for him to go.
Though finally at a little after nine, he receives a phone call from Boss. A shipping issue. They—Boss, Duke and Gage—own a shipping company together, employing several of the brothers.
“Yeah,” I hear him grumble, then he turns to me. “I gotta go. Computer’s at the hotel.”
“I’ll be safe, babe.”
“Sure, I know. But I’ll be here at three.” He bends in to kiss me, gripping the back of my neck to pull me closer. I grip his shirt at his shoulders. It takes a great deal of effort for me not to moan out my approval of his substantial lip prowess, which would be embarrassing considering April, one of our regulars, walks in mid-embrace.
“Livvy, you’re back,” she calls and all I can do is laugh.
“You wanted to come back,” he whispers, then lets me go.
Just as promised, promptly at three o’clock Gage shows up to help me finish my end of shift as the subsequent girl on duty runs through her start of shift checklist.
The next couple of days go exactly as the first. And with Gage beginning to calm, he stays only a short time.
This morning, he stays only long enough for a cup of coffee and a mini make-out session.
“Love you, baby,” he says. “Be here at three.”
“Love you, too.”
We don’t leave one another or hang up the phone without saying I love you. It’s because we do, but it’s also because of what we don’t say, that you just never know when it might be the last time you ever get to say it. I don’t like thinking those thoughts, but the world, at least our world, is too unpredictable.
I watch through the glass door as Gage’s truck pulls away. It’s hot out, even this early. The day’s going to be a scorcher. I grab a bottle of water from the cooler and walk it out to the security guard.
He’s a handsome guy, light brown hair, pretty blue eyes. Nothing like Gage’s eyes, but still pretty. He smiles. “Thanks.” And he wipes the condensation from the bottle across his forehead.
“Well, you can’t protect and serve if you’re suffering heatstroke.”
“Appreciate it.” Then he winks his pretty eye, unscrews the cap and takes a long drink of cool water—so long his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
I leave him to it, walking back inside and behind the counter. An hour passes, three more customers come in, make their purchases and leave. We’ve been quiet for about fifteen minutes when a black SUV pulls in to the lot but not up to a pump.
No. Way. I know that SUV. Michael drops out, his feet to the ground. Stunned, I lose precious seconds fumbling for the phone. Then, then it all happens so fast, yet simultaneously in slow motion.
Through the glass door, without even time for me to scream, I watch as Michael approaches the handsome rent-a-cop with gun lifted and fires three shots into his head and chest. I know he hit the man’s head when his brains splatter against the glass door.
He slumps, Michael shoves his limp body out of the way and the dead guard face-plants to the right.
Michael strides inside, the barrel of his gun pointed right at me. “You’ve been bad, Liv. The game has gone on long enough. Look what you forced me to do.” He motions with his chin to the brain matter. “You lay with him?” he asks.
“The guard?” I stupidly ask. My voice rises to a high soprano.
He grits his teeth. “The guy.” Gage, he’s talking about Gage. “You did, you fucking whore. I see the guilt on your face.” When he shouts, his spittle hits my face.
I watch stunned as he marches behind the counter, sinking his fingernails into my skin as he grabs my arm and yanks me hard enough to bring me crashing into his body. The gun barrel, still hot, burns through my blouse where he has it butted against my ribs.
Then his lips are on mine, forcing his tongue inside and he groans. “So sweet,” he grumbles as he tears his mouth away. “Move.”
I have no choice. If I ever want to see Gage again, I have to cooperate. Michael doesn’t want me dead, at least not yet.
We have to walk through the puddle of thickening liquid pooling around the dead guard. Through the stench of iron and death lingering in the air. Each step makes a sickening squick sound, a combination of squeak and squish derived from our rubber soles hitting wet, leaving deep red footprints all the way to his truck.
My captor moves us to the driver’s side, where he shoves me in first, forcing me to climb over the center console while he follows. He never cut the engine when he dropped out gun blazing, and so he only has to throw the truck into drive.
Hot tears flood my eyes.
Covered in blood spatter, Michael reaches to turn on the radio, though a cassette tape clicks on instead. Air Supply. I recognize the band and the song from my mother’s collection of tapes. The ones my great-grandfather had lovingly saved.
He’d taken my mother’s music when he trashed my house. The tears fall harder.
Michael calmly sings along with the lyrics as if out on a Sunday afternoon drive. He clicks on the blinker and turns onto the street leaving town.
It’s all I can do to keep from vomiting when he reaches a bloody hand over to stroke my thigh. “Don’t think this means you get out of punishment,” he says, throwing a glance to his roving hand.
I swallow hard and wipe at my nose but say nothing. What could I say? Anything other than what he wants to hear in his delusional mind will just get me in more trouble. I have to keep my mind clear. Agree with him, go with it until I can’t go anymore. From where I sit, it’s the only way I can think to survive.
We drive for a while. Hard to tell how long. He taped over the digital clock on the stereo with duct tape. But I know we go deeper in country, away from the salt and sea air of the Chesapeake. At last the SUV eases to a stop.
“If you hadn’t forced my hand, it wouldn’t need to be this way. But until you learn, Liv. Until you learn when you’ve taken the game too far, that your actions have consequences, this is how it has to be.”
Michael opens the center console to pull out a syringe. I watch him uncap the end of the needle, flick the tube, and push some of the yellowish liquid out through the tip. I push back against the door, yanking at the handle, which won’t open. The door lock is broken, probably for just this reason. Yet it doesn’t dete
r me from pushing harder against the door, pushing away from Michael.
Though, with nowhere to go, he stabs the needle into my thigh, the same one he spent the drive petting, and pushes down on the plunger. Almost instantly my body feels heavy, lethargic. My head swims. My vision clouds, and then crushing, crushing blackness.
10.
Livvy
My eyes begin to open to the feel of warm water cascading down onto my head and shoulders. My face pressed against cool tile, a warm hard, very naked body pressed to my back.
“Thought a shower might bring you around,” he whispers in my ear before kissing the lobe. I feel him tracing his hardened cock up and down the seam of my ass.
I suck in a sharp breath. Deep in his delusion, Michael takes it as my enjoyment or compliance and presses his shaft between the cheeks like a hotdog between a bun. The muscles in my body seize up. I try to calm myself because tense muscles will only make it hurt worse when he enters. And I know that’s next.
How did I get here? What did I ever do to deserve this? Jesus, I’m beginning to wish Houdini had just killed me, then it would already be over. My stomach cramps and I feel about to vomit.
Then—more blackness.
When next my eyes begin to flutter open I’m lying in a soft bed, between clean white sheets and fresh-smelling fluffy white comforter, on my belly and wearing a navy blue man’s T-shirt.
Scenes of being pressed up against the shower tile with Michael pressed to my back pass through my mind. I throw a hand to my mouth to stifle my sob. I don’t want Michael knowing I’m awake yet.
Funny thing, as I allow myself to take in breaths deep and shallow enough to calm down, I realize I don’t ache anywhere. Not anywhere. He was going to take me in the shower. But… after I slowly check crevices not usually on my checklist, for I don’t know, body fluids? There’s nothing. No pain or even tenderness.
He didn’t do it.
Thank god.
He didn’t do it.
My reprieve ends, however, when my captor walks into the bedroom, dark from the pulled shades under the curtains which match the walls, only with accents of tiny white and sage green interlocking geometric patterns. On the tray he’s carrying, a steaming mug and a bowl.
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (Brimstone Lords MC 3) Page 8
