Intrepid_A Vigilantes Novel

by Keri Lake

  The moment he turned his back to me, what little air I’d gathered after his kiss banished from my lungs. Across his skin were the marks of what appeared to be some horrific form of abuse. I dragged my hand over his ruined skin, focusing on the vicious textures beneath my fingers. Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed each one, taking in the flinch of his back every time I pressed my lips to his scars.

  Once I’d covered them all, I lay my head against his back and closed my eyes.

  25

  Sera

  The sound of music reached my ears, and I opened my eyes to the dark room, in which the heady scent of sex clung to the air, in spite of the slightly cracked window. My body felt bruised and beaten, since Ty had taken me again in the shower. Not as angry as the first time, but the weakness of before had left me struggling to stand.

  I lifted my head and found him sprawled in the chair across the room from me, plucking the strings of his black guitar, his eyes on me. Sex-tousled hair lay in a mess atop is head, the sight of him too damn tempting to leave alone.

  Wrapping the sheet around my body, I crawled across his bed and pushed to my feet, watching him watch me as I crossed the room. The exhaustion in my muscles told me I’d only gotten maybe two hours of sleep, which meant it must’ve been around three in the morning.

  As I approached him, he set down the guitar, and his naked body welcomed me.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked, sliding onto his lap.

  His arms enveloped me, drawing me against him, and he shook his head. “My dad used to tell me, there’s plenty of time to sleep when you die.” Whiskey clung to his breath, and I glanced to the side of the chair, where the fifth sat on the floor.

  “You’ve been drinking?”

  “’S’what happens when I’m pissed.”

  Smiling, I traced my thumb across his lips, and he kissed the pad of it. “What are you pissed about?”

  “That it’s apparently illegal, and considered kidnapping, to tie you to my bed and refuse to let you leave.”

  “There’s nothing to tie me to, anyway. It’s just a mattress.”

  “I’ma welder,” he slurred. “I can weld some shit to the wall and chain you there.”

  “Then you’d have to take care of me. Feed me. Shower me. Just like a pet.”

  “Yeah.” He buried his face in my neck, breathing deep as though smelling me, and his arms wrapped tighter, pulling me closer into his body. “Fuck you and worship you everyday? Sounds like a good gig.”

  “You wouldn’t have to chain me to do that.”

  Pulling away just enough to expose my jaw, he ran his thumb over my scar, his eyes tracing the ruined skin there. Yesterday, I’d have pushed him away and hidden my face. After having seen his scars, though, I felt equal, in some ways. Less ugly, if that were possible.

  “Anybody ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

  My smile was slight, hiding a monster-sized dose of embarrassment. “They usually tell me I could be beautiful, if not for my scar.”

  “Nah.” He shook his head, still thumbing the jagged surface. “It’s because of it.” Setting a gentle kiss to my jaw, he said, “You’re so fucking beautiful, it hurts.” As if it was so easy for him, like he didn’t just set my world ablaze with those words.

  Head tipped back, he gripped my thighs, shifting his hips beneath me, until my bare sex pressed against his stomach in a wet slide as he flexed his muscles. The groan that escaped his throat carried a whisper of torment, and his whole body shuddered, his hands sliding up my thighs as he glanced down toward where I sat against him.

  “You’re the best torture, Sera. Having you, and not really having you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering, he rolled his hips, watching intently as he spread my wetness across his skin.

  Lowering to his thighs, I leaned forward, pushing his head back again, and kissed his throat, while reaching for his hand set on my leg. Guiding his palm to his cock, I dragged my teeth over his neck, across his pulsing vein, and squeezed my hand around his as we both stroked his length.

  “Keeping going,” I murmured. “I want to draw you.”

  His eyebrows flickered to a frown. “What?”

  “This. I want to watch you come.”

  “Jerk off in front of you?”

  “Yes. I want something to keep. Something I can stare at when I touch myself alone.”

  His neck bobbed with a swallow, and he lifted his head, slamming his lips to mine, before I slid from his lap.

  From my bag, I pulled out the sketchpad I carried with me, and flipped to a blank page.

  Eyes focused on him, I let the pencil dance across the page in fast, hasty strokes that matched his. The shadows, dips, and angles. The ridges of his abs as they clenched with the fire building inside of him. I sketched long cords of lean, but powerful, thighs, strong enough to hold me trapped, spread out before me. The tension in his jaw. The upturn of his brow in a cross between pleasure and pain.

  A bulge in his bicep marked the controlled contraction of his muscles with every glide of his hand. His taut and trembling body, desperate for release. Tongue swept across his lips. He was sex in the flesh—raw and pure virility. Watching him, hearing the rough sounds rumble in his chest, was so freaking hot, my mouth went dry, heart hammering in my chest, while my hands vibrated across the page.

  It took only a few minutes to hash out a rough sketch before I needed to touch him again. I couldn’t wait anymore. The greedy monster inside of me wanted to be the reason for his release. I wanted to bring him to that point, the artist creating the perfect masterpiece.

  Setting the sketchpad aside, I pushed to my knees, wedging my body between his thighs, and tongued his tip, lapping up the small bit of fluid there. Still pumping his shaft, he snapped his head forward, his eyes promising to fuck me again if I wasn’t careful. The veins popping out of his neck and his arm turned him into a beast, hungry for release.

  I told myself I was the only one who could give it to him.

  “I want to taste it, Ty. I want you to come in my mouth and across my lips.” I pushed his hand away, taking hold of his rock-hard shaft.

  I’d only done it a handful of times, with guys I hadn’t given a shit about. Guys who’d wanted to watch me suck them and beg for their cum—as if I’d cared whether, or not, they reached climax.

  With Ty, I truly wanted to see it on his face. To swallow him. I wanted to mentally capture the moment when I brought him to that place, so I opened my mouth, wide enough to fit him inside, and let my tongue sample the salty taste of his skin, the masculine scent of his arousal taunting my primitive nature.

  His fingers curled around the arms of the chair as his hips circled, and he let out a strangled noise, like a man teetering on the edge.

  I took him as deep as I could, until his tip hit my throat, coaxing a gag, and let the saliva I’d worked up slide past my lips, as I sucked him all the way back up.

  His hips bucked beneath me, while I tongued and sucked him, slowly to the tip and back down again. Wetness leaked down my thigh, bringing forth the realization that I was painfully aroused. Sucking him off turned me on, and I shamelessly reached between my thighs to confirm the slippery surface of my clit, rubbing my fingers over the tight bud. I moaned against his cock, my hand wet with saliva, as I stroked and sucked, stroked and sucked, as hungry for his release as he was.

  His salty skin puckered my tongue, while I bobbed against his groin, savoring the taste of him, and getting myself off.

  I took one of his balls into my mouth, an action that had him gripping the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair.

  “Shit!” Fire blazed across my scalp, where he squeezed a fistful of locks.

  His moans turned to short pants of breath, and he tugged at my hair, urging me up onto his body. “Ride me, Sera. I need to feel you.”

  A glance to the side found two condoms lying on the floor beside his jeans. “Should we …”

&nb
sp; He followed my gaze and back. “You on birth control?” At my nod, he squeezed the backs of my thighs, lifting me up while he positioned himself beneath me. “Good. You’ll be the first time I’ve never used anything.” He met my eyes. “And my last.”

  I wanted to ask why he sounded so resolute that I’d be his last, but I didn’t. “You’re my first, too.”

  “I need this, angel.” With a kiss to the top of my breast, he stared up at me, eyes pleading. “I need to feel you.”

  I slid his hard length inside of me, and his hands gripped tight to my ass, grinding my pussy against his cock. The sound in his throat was a cross between a growl and groan, masculine and hungry, possessive and angry.

  “Fuck! You love this, yeah? You love that I can’t think. I can’t concentrate on anything but this. How badly I’ve wanted it.”

  He sat forward, and his mouth clasped down on my breast, suckled my nipple. The punishing sting of his tongue had me gripping his hair, and my lip swelled, caught between my teeth, as he kept on with his torment.

  The chair creaked and hissed as we fucked. Pressure at my shoulders came from his hands latched around them, as if he thought I might float away, while his hips pistoned below me. With an indomitable expression, jaw clenched with every thrust, he studied me, watching my reaction as I watched him back.

  I wanted to see it on his face.

  Like two fighters, waiting for one of us to give. His eyes smoldered with the need to destroy something, to annihilate it and watch it crumble, so I gave in.

  I let him shatter me first.

  My body jolted and tensed, plank-stiff, while stars exploded behind my eyes. I cried out his name over the sounds of his cursing, and rode out the last of my orgasm.

  Staring up at me with fiery determination in his eyes, he shook with every thrust of his hips, his body wound tight.

  Tighter. Ready to snap.

  Sweat glistened on his skin, and he gave one upward drive, shooting pulses of electricity up my spine.

  With his head tipped back, I watched his brows come together, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw popped. The beautiful moment of his release. His body shuddered beneath me, the heat exploding from his bones as he filled me, and the masculine sounds vibrating in his throat were the soundtrack of my ruin.

  I’d found the passion my mother had told me about, and just as she’d warned, I didn’t want to let it go.

  He drew me into his body, clutching the back of my head, and kissed me, his cock still pulsing inside of me.

  “I want to take care of you, Ty.” I sank my fingers into his hair and slid my hand down his cheek, kissing him again, wishing I could slip beneath his skin and stay there.

  “Why?” His hands spread the thin layer of sweat over my body as he swept them over every inch, as if he didn’t want to stop touching me.

  “Because I think you need it. I think you need someone to take care of you.”

  “Who’s going to take care of you?”

  I smiled against his lips. “I’ll find someone.”

  A crack sounded alongside a sharp sting across my ass. I flinched my cheeks on a laugh and felt the growl in his chest.

  He leaned forward, pulling me even tighter to his body, the tautness of his muscles asserting his jealousy. In some ways, Ty reminded me of a little boy refusing to share his candy with anyone. “Fuck that.”

  I guessed it made me a tease, for wanting to stoke that jealousy.

  “You don’t want this, though. You don’t want to keep me.”

  “I said I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. You belong to me, though.” The lazy blink of his eyes told me the alcohol still swam through his veins. He held my face in his hands like fragile glass he didn’t want to break, eyes rapt on my lips as he brushed his thumbs across them. “You’re my little blue fairy. My most perfect thing.”

  “You must be drunk, if you think I’m perfect.”

  “Drunk, maybe. But I’m not blind anymore. I see you now. Better than I did before.” And he did. Still holding my face, he made me feel treasured and seen.

  “I see you, too, Ty.” I leaned forward brushing my lips across his in a feathery kiss. “Now I’ve seen all of you.”

  26

  Jameson

  Nine years ago …

  Hang in there, James. Everything will be okay.” The social worker, Susan, set her hand on my shoulder, giving an empathetic squeeze, before stepping past me with her cheap perfume trailing after her.

  The slam of the door signaled her leave, but I didn’t bother to confirm. From my seat, I kept my eyes on the faded, wooden coffee table in front of me, the half-smoked cigar in an ashtray, and the stack of Michigan Hunter magazines set in a neat pile.

  My Uncle Hank stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed. The guy was huge, built like Gymroids, as Eli and I had called the arrogant assholes who’d worked with my dad and spent more time on their muscles than their brains. Aside from the brown eyes, Hank looked nothing like my dad, with his arms covered in tattoos, the short-cropped military-style haircut, and his height that put him about six-five. About a half foot taller than his younger brother.

  I couldn’t believe the social worker hadn’t picked up on the stench of whiskey on his breath.

  “Sorry ‘bout your dad, JT.” Of all the variations of my name I’d heard over the years, Hank was the only one who ever called me that. “He was a good man.”

  “You can’t keep me here. You know that, right?”

  He rubbed his chin and pushed off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets as he crossed the room toward me. “Yep, I am well aware of all the ways you can sneak out and take off, when I’m not looking. Hell, why d’you think I ended up in military school?” His snorted laugh grated on me, as if it was all a joke to him. “But let me tell you how this shit works. You leave? I come after you. And believe me when I say, you do not want my ass coming after you.” He plopped down on the armchair across from me and lit up his cigar. The sight of him, kicked back and relaxed, was enough to make me want to punch that cigar right out of his mouth. “I’m not your enemy, JT. I made a promise to your pop, and I’m damn well gonna keep it.”

  I frowned. “What promise? My dad hasn’t talked to you in years.”

  “Hadn’t. Why’nt you tell me what you know, and maybe I’ll tell you some things you don’t.” He puffed on his cigar, the plume of smoke reaching out toward me, as if enticing me into his little game of charades.

  “Police told me some gang members burned our house down on Devil’s Night.”

  “You believe that?”

  Eyes on his, searching for the slightest twitch, or flicker, I shook my head.

  “Neither do I.”

  “So, what do you think happened?”

  “You eat something yet?”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “I will. Eventually. But first, you’re gonna eat. Then you’re gonna shower, ‘cause you smell like a goddamn nursing home.”

  “Tell me what the fuck you think happened!” I shot up from the couch, my hands balled to fists.

  Hank didn’t so much as flinch. He just eased his face upward until he stared up at me. “Your pop ever tell you why him and I stopped talking?”

  Nostrils still flaring, I breathed hard through my nose, my silence answering for me.

  “He come asking me about your momma. Asked me if I’d ever had relations with her, in the time they were married. Believe me, he was as pissed as you are now. In my face. Wanting nothing more than to knock me out, I bet. I could’ve lied and said yes, and he would’ve hated me as much as he hated every other man she’d been with. Could’ve told the truth and said no. But I cared too damn much for you and your pop to let her keep doing what she was doing. Instead, I stared back at him without saying a goddamn word. Not a peep. Those were the longest two minutes of my life, and in the end, he formed his own conclusions. That was on him. But as I understand it, she left not long after. So que se-fuckin-ra.”

  “Did you?�
�� The garbled words felt like I had a mouthful of marbles. “With her?”

  “Kid, only family I had was you and your pop, and I sure as hell didn’t plan to fuck things up over the likes of that woman. My point is, if you think your little tantrum is going to get me to say a goddamn thing before I’m good and ready, before you’re ready to hear it, remember that I’m the same man who kept silent for two minutes and thirty two seconds to keep my only brother from ruining his life.”

  I slumped onto the couch, the defeat rolling through me, over me, crushing me. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere. I just want to be alone.”

  “Well, you gotta be somewhere. Whether it’s here, the streets, or in the dirt.”

  “Everything’s a fucking joke to you! You’ve got some … stupid ass phrase for everything. You do not want my ass coming after you. Whether it’s here, the streets. or in the dirt.” I wished more than anything I could add a nice solid punch across his smug jaw.

  “Good likeness.”

  “Good likeness,” I echoed in the same mocking tone. “Piss off! You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”

  “You want to know what serious is? Serious is not hearing from your baby brother for a good seven years and suddenly having a nephew thrown in your lap. That’s some serious shit.”

  “If I’m such an inconvenience for you, I’ll let Susan know you’re not up for the job.”

  “Oh, I’m up for the job. Question is, are you? ‘Cause I ain’t nothin’ like your dad, JT. He was a better man than I’ll ever be. I drink too much. Smoke and cuss too much. And anybody comes after you?” He puffed his cigar again, blowing it off to the side. “I’ll kill ‘em dead and make sure no one finds ‘em.”

  Realization dawned on me, and I narrowed my eyes. “You …. My dad told you?”

  “Who do you think gave your dad the gun?”

  “You believe me, then.”

  “Yeah. I believe you. And if I didn’t have you to think about, I’d have gone after those little cocksuckers myself.”