Whiskey Lullabye (Southern Heartbeats, Vol. 2)

by Jennifer Rebecca

  I rip the sweatshirt and long sleeved t-shirt that she’s wearing over her head and hear her gasp when the cool air of my house hits the heated skin of her breasts, barely covered by flesh colored lace. I see her pink nipples through the flimsy material and the sight makes me feel savage.

  I drop to my knees and the height difference between us puts me exactly where I want to be. Before my knees hit the ground fully, I latch onto her nipple and bite down. Hard. Aliza cries out, but not in pain. This is what she wants. This is what she pushes for. The beast to come out.

  I roughly slide my hands up and down her sides as I work my mouth at her breast. I reach behind her and unhook her bra like it’s my job. I toss it aside, not caring where it falls. I scoot over and bite her other nipple. Aliza’s whimpers don’t stop me as I use my hands to pull down her leggings and panties. They tangle around her sneakers and I pull them all off at once. One foot at a time. I shove my hand between her legs and she is ready for me. Dripping.

  I let her nipple go with a pop and look up at her sweet, sad, beautifully broken face. She knows what I know. She wants me, if only for this time and the next, none of the other life moments in between, but for these moments, she wants what only I can give her.

  I pull my hand out from between her legs and slowly rise to my feet. She makes little noises of protest as I rise up. Her whimpers fall flat. My hand isn’t what she truly wants and we both know it. My shoulder hitting her in the middle of her belly and she squeaks as I lift her up over my shoulder like a fireman.

  Taking the steps two at a time, I make quick work of the path to my bedroom. I kick the door open and it slaps against the wall as I stomp to my bed where I rip the covers off and not so gently toss her sweet body down.

  “Holt,” she cries out my name, but she’s not in charge here, I am.

  “Be quiet,” I growl softly.

  “I need...”

  “I know what you need, be still.”

  I straighten from where I deposited Aliza and slowly undo each button, one by one, on the front of my jeans. Her eyes are locked with mine and I watch her delicate neck, graceful like a swan, swallow down her fears. Her pupils dilate and I know that she likes what she sees. I slide my thumbs into my jeans and shorts and slide them both down, painfully slow, my hard cock springing free.

  I step out of my jeans, my feet bare since the minute I came home, and slowly crawl up the bed where I left the sexiest woman I know. I push her legs open and settle in between. I don’t give her a chance to realize what I’m going to do because she won’t want it. Aliza, in all the times that she has come to me, never lets me worship her body with my hands or my mouth or my body. She wants my cock hard and fast and then she wants to slink off into the night back to where she came from. But not this time. I dive in and latch my mouth on her pussy not letting up, holding her thighs wide, locked in my firm grip. Tonight I’m going to make her let me love her.

  “Holt, please,” she gasps, but I won’t let up. I lick and suck and bite. Over and over again. She rocks her hips into my face as she arches her back, reaching further and further for the climax that I won’t give her until I’m good and ready.

  “No,” I rumble as I stalk up her body like a big cat after my prey.

  Liz’s eyes brighten like a cat about to get her cream, but she’s not. She rakes her nails down my shoulders in an effort to make me move along. One hand at a time i pull them from my body and grip her small ones in my large ones on either side of her head.

  “Please,” she gasps as she arches trying to angle my cock where she wants it, but I pull back and slowly rub just the tip through her wetness. She whimpers again, but I won’t let up. Again and again.

  “Open your eyes,” I demand and the second she does I slam my cock home. Her jaw drops open and her neck arches but this isn’t the hard and fast fuck she’s hoping for.

  I slowly slide my cock almost all the way out and then slowly thrust back in in pausing in between as I rain kisses down all over her face and neck. I slide back and kiss her jaw, then thrust home and kiss the corner of her mouth. Her temples. Each of her eyes.

  I can see that she’s getting restless. Aliza pulls at her hands but I won’t free them. She lifts each of her legs higher on my back in an effort to pull me in and make me fuck her harder, but I’m too big, my body too strong. Her efforts leave her vulnerable, more firmly pinned and open for my slow love making.

  “Harder,” she demands. I slowly slide out.

  “No,” I say softly, sliding my cock back inside her.

  “Faster!” she half yells as I pull out.

  “No,” I grunt as I push back in.

  “Holt,” she cries out. “Please!”

  “No.”

  “Please!” she pants. “I need my hands.”

  “No,” I grunt as I thrust in a little harder. “You need to let me ride you,” I growl, thrusting in just a little bit harder.

  “I need to touch you.”

  “No, you don’t control this,” I growl pumping just a little bit harder. I squeeze her hands just a little bit tighter.

  And then I feel it. Aliza gasps as she arches her back off of my bed. Her walls clamp tight around my cock and I know that she is close. I thrust in harder and harder losing my grip on the knife edge of my control. I feel my own climax burning up my spine.

  “Holt,” Liz gasps and I know this is it.

  I thrust my cock hard one more time. Twice. As deep as I can and then she screams through her orgasm. Her walls fist my cock so tight I have no choice but to follow her over the edge and I do as I bury my face in between her neck and shoulder and call out her name.

  I release her hands from my tight grasp and wrap my arms lovingly around her body. I roll us over as one, me on the bottom on my back, her on top of me on her belly. My softening cock slips from her body as she turns her face away to rest her head on my shoulder. Our pants are the only sounds in the room. I skate figure eights over her spine with my index finger, thinking this might be the turning point, Liz is going to let me have all of her. Love all of her. Finally. These are the last thoughts I have as my breath evens out and I find peace in sleep.

  ***

  I come fully awake all at once. My room is dark and it is pitch black outside my window. I don’t move my body and keep my breath soft because I can feel the wrongness in the air. Years in the Marines and Law Enforcement have taught me to always be aware of these things, these feelings, and I always take them seriously.

  I glance to my left, using only my eyes, and see that the bed is empty. Liz is gone. Again. I hear movement in the room and see that she is fully clothed and tugging on her sneakers. She’s about to bolt. Fuck me. Tonight didn’t change a thing.

  “So this is it?” I say as she’s about to walk out of my bedroom door. Her hands reach up and grab the door jamb on either side of her body.

  “I have to go,” she says softly.

  “You were never going to let me love you, were you?” I ask her. Liz’s knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the doorway. She just hangs her head and shakes it. No. Her answer was always no.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Liz,” I hear her choke on a gasp, never thinking I would end things. Hell, neither did I. “I deserve more from you. I deserve all of you. Over these past weeks, months even, I have given you all of me. I’m in love with you, Liz.”

  “No,” she cries.

  “I am. I am in love with you. But I can’t let you hurt me anymore. I want to give you the world. I want to share with you my heart and my home. And all you want is cunt and cock. If you walk out that door, you won’t be welcome back,” I say softly.

  Not even turning back to look at me, she nods her head in acceptance and lets go of the door jamb. And then for the last time, I watch Aliza walk away. She chose wrong. And just like I knew it always would, my heart is breaking.

  CHAPTER 24

  Holt

  “Sheriff, there’s an urgent call for you on line three,” my se
cretary’s voice chirps from over the intercom on my desk phone. And I’m not going to lie, my first inclination is to crawl under my desk and cry for mommy, it’s been that kind of day. But then I remember that my balls have already dropped and I have survived worse so I just suck it up and answer my phone.

  “Sheriff Stone,” I answer.

  “Yes, Sir, this is Sheriff Elliot out of Adams County, Connecticut,” he tells me. I don’t know him so I’m not sure why exactly that he’s calling.

  “Yes, Sir, my secretary said this was an urgent matter. What can I do for you?” I ask him.

  “It is and I’m sorry to say that I am calling with bad news,” I figured as much, there doesn’t seem to be any good news coming in these days. With the exception of Cody and Angie’s baby girl making her debut on Christmas Day.

  “Well, then, let’s get to it,” I sigh.

  “Yes, Sir,” he takes a deep, audible breath before spilling forward the words I never wanted to hear. “Hannah Conrad was murdered by her husband one week ago,” he tells me.

  “Shit,” I growl under my breath.

  “Pretty much, son,” the older man says. “Neighbors reported a domestic, but it was long over before my officers got there. He turned the gun on himself.”

  “Alright,” I say wondering where this is going. “So, what can I do for you?” I ask.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Conrad were the parents of four month old twins. It appears that before her death, Mrs. Conrad arranged for you and Aliza Wilson to take custody of the children with the option to adopt them,” he tells me.

  “Wow,” I say, because I never thought I would ever raise a child. They’re not my children, but from today forward, they are.

  “Do you accept guardianship?” He asks me.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God,” he breathes. He was worried we wouldn’t want them. That’s horrible. “I’ve done some checking up on you, I was hoping you would say yes. Mrs. Conrad’s attorney will be in touch with you shortly,” he tells me.

  “Okay.”

  “I am sorry for the loss of your friend.”

  “Thank you,” I say because what else can you say and then we disconnect.

  No sooner had I set my phone down when it rang again. I sigh and reach for the phone. I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that the entire afternoon will be like this.

  “Sheriff Stone,” I answer.

  “Yes, Sir, this is Simon Merriweather of Merriweather and Merriweather, we represent the estate of Mrs. Hannah Conrad,” he tells me.

  “Yes, Sir, I was told to expect your call from Sheriff Elliot,” I answer.

  “Yes, yes,” he goes on. I was calling to tell you that I have permission from the courts here to send you copies of Mrs. Conrad’s will and trust among other documents that she wished you to have. I would like to fax them directly to you as they are of the utmost importance and time sensitive.”

  “Yes, of course. Let me set you up with my secretary and she can handle all of that,” I tell him.

  “Yes, of course,” he says before he rings off.

  “Jesus,” I run my hand over my face. I need to get a handle on everything. This is crazy, but at the same time. It’s good. Great even.

  There’s a knock at my door before my secretary comes in with the scanned and faxed copies of Hannah’s estate. She sets them gently on my desk and I can see there are tears in her eyes. She won’t meet my gaze, I know she caught the jist of the documents.

  “These are for you, Sheriff,” she says softly before she scurries out the door, shutting it softly behind her. But the snick of the handle blasts through the room.

  I sit and stare at the stack of white sheets of paper in front of me for I don’t know how long. It almost feels as if they stare back at me. God damn it, I’m too old for this shit. I roll my shoulders back, crack my neck leaning my head side to side and then reach for the first page.

  I sit and I read, page after page. It’s all legal jargon, it’s all pretty straight forward. The boys are being left to both me and Liz. That part is not so straightforward. We are to live together and raise Colton and Ford together. It does not say that we are to get married or be together romantically, but it is clear we are to co-parent. In the same house.

  I flip the second to last page and stop in my tracks. The last page is a copy of a handwritten letter from Hannah to...me. And the words that she poured out of her heart. Words that leave no doubt in my mind that she knew she would eventually die at her husband’s hands. Oh, she doesn’t come right out and say it, but it has been my experience that new mothers don’t often leave notes detailing their wishes in the event of their sooner rather than later death. Especially not healthy mothers. But mothers who the last time I saw them had fading bruises up their arms that were obviously left there by someone she trusted. So she’s leaving me in care of her sons. And also, Liz, whom she loved more than anyone on this earth aside from her children.

  My phone rings again and I wipe the tears from my eyes and answer in a gruff voice, “Sheriff Stone.”

  “Hello, my name is Emily Canton and I’m the social worker overseeing the care of minors Colton and Ford Conrad,” she tells me.

  “Yes, ma’am, I was told to expect your call.”

  “Yes, I was excited to hear from the Sheriff that you are taking guardianship of the children. We are eager to see the boys in a safe, loving, and also permanent home,” she tells me.

  “I agree and I can promise that Liz and I will provide those things for them with the help of our families.”

  “Wonderful. I have a contact in Houston who is going to do a rush homestudy for me so we can get the boys to you as soon as possible. I will be flying with them first thing Monday morning. So buy some carseats, cribs and other baby bits and bobs. They’ll be there soon.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, I’ll do just that,” I tell her as I ring off.

  There is a lot to be done. But first, I have to see Liz. She can’t hear this news,this blow, from anyone but me. I know that I said we were done, but I love her enough to try and soften this blow.

  “Hey, I’m heading out for the day for personal reasons,” I call out to my secretary as I lock my office door behind me.

  I beep the locks on my SUV and climb behind the wheel. I’m going to need help getting things ready for the boys. I don’t know if Liz will want to do those things, but if she can’t or won’t, I have to enlist some help. So I do what any thirty six year old man would do, I call my mom while I fire up my car and head to Liz’s house. She answers on the first ring.

  “Hey, mom,” I say when she picks up. “I need your help,” I tell her. And She screams with excitement and cries for boys who will grow up without their mother. Mom always wanted grandbabies. I have no doubt she’ll be apart of these boys’ lives.

  CHAPTER 25

  Aliza

  I don’t know what happened. Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. All I know is that, for the second time in my life, I found love and then I lost it. I’ve prayed for mercy only to find none. And I can’t for the life of me figure out where in my life I fucked up so royally to be punished this way. All I know is that I can’t take anymore. No more.

  So, here am I sitting on the sofa in the front room of my house. I’m wearing three day old yoga pants and a ratty USMC t-shirt that was Sam’s favorite. I slept in it as often as I could while we were together. I lived in it when I was pregnant with each of the girls. It’s soft and warm, and brings me comfort when I need it. I have been wearing it since I came home from Holt’s house.

  I thought he just wanted my body, but he wanted my heart and my soul. No, Holt wanted it all and I threw it away unknowingly. So I sit here in my three day old clothes, my ratty unwashed hair, my tear stained face, sipping a glass of Sam’s favorite whiskey.

  I didn’t drink the whole bottle. I no longer have a need to be numb, but this comfort, it brings me close to one man I have lost while mourning the loss of another. My heart squeezing tight in my chest. />
  There is a pounding at the door and I can’t bring myself to care. So I sit here, ignoring the caller, praying for mercy for my battered heart in my dirty clothes. But by the sound of the voice bellowing through the door, I know that my prayers have gone unanswered.

  “God damnit, Liz, open this fucking door right now!” He shouts.

  But I don’t care. I can’t take anymore from this man. From the one who came before him. From this life. So I turn my head away from the door and stare unseeingly at the fire burning in the fireplace.

  “So help me God, I will kick this fucking door in, Liz, now isn’t the time to ignore me,” he seethes.

  I am not granted even the time to stand from the sofa before the front door of the house my husband so lovingly painted the teal blue that I just could not live without mere months before he was taken from me, was splintered from the locks and hinges by the man who has also splintered my heart. No, that’s not quite right. It helped with my heart a great deal, but the door that was all Holt, I think to myself as the man himself stalks through the door and makes quick work as he treads to me.

  I watch him with a nervousness in my body. When Holt makes it to me, he bends over at the waist and snatches the glass out of my hands and smashes it and its contents into the fire which blooms wildly.

  “This shit is done. Do you hear me? D-O-N-E. Done.” He leans into me with a fierceness.

  I can see the wild of the fire not coming from the fireplace, but from the core of Holt. For a minute my burning house, my dreams, my nightmares, they all collide with Holt standing in front of me, but this time he does not give me the choice to flee with him or burn. Holt is taking me with him. I feel no heat from his flames. My mercy might just be granted after all.

  I nod once and look into Holt’s eyes. The wildness seeps from them and in its place I see a world weariness. My Holt needs some mercy too. But in that moment, I know, mine isn’t about to be granted after all.