Lewis Security

by Glenna Sinclair

  I looked up at the camera and shrugged.

  ***

  I was in the dream again. And I knew it was the dream, too. Most of the time, I didn’t know and relived those terrible moments like they were happening all over again. This time I knew I was dreaming, but even though I knew I was only imagining these things happening in my brain it didn’t make things any easier.

  I was searching for them, running, stumbling, trying to see through the sand and dirt hanging heavy in the air. I was shaking back and forth as I did—shaking hard, then swaying like I was on a boat.

  “Spencer!” The sound filtered into my consciousness but still sounded like it was coming from underwater or something. I tried to ignore that sound but it wouldn’t go away.

  “Spencer!” The sound got louder until it was a roar in my head. I opened my eyes, jumping up. The shape beside me jumped back in the darkness. I realized it was Charlotte. And I realized I had been making noise in my sleep—the way her eyes and mouth were wide open told me so. She looked horrified.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, swinging my legs around until my feet were on the floor. I held my head in my hands, elbows on my thighs.

  “I—I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered. “You were screaming.”

  “I said I was sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Do, um… Do you need anything?”

  I sighed, rubbing my hands over my head. I was acting like an asshole. She was only trying to help me—the man who’d probably woken her up out of a sound sleep with the sound of his screams. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I really am. I didn’t want you to, like, be disturbed by my weird bullshit.”

  “It’s not weird bullshit,” she whispered. “I mean, you were screaming names. You were freaking out. I guessed it had something to do with the war.”

  “You guessed right,” I muttered. “It’s, uh, not easy for me to talk about. I don’t like people knowing that I have nightmares. It’s kids’ stuff.”

  “If you saw something bad—you know, something really bad—it’s not kids’ stuff. You’re having a natural reaction.”

  “You sound like a therapist.”

  I heard, rather than saw, her chuckle. “Well, I’ve been through a lot of therapy. So, I’ll let you get back to sleep, if you think you’re okay out here.”

  I wanted to go with her. I wanted to be close to her more than I ever had, even more than I had when we were on the couch earlier. But no. It wasn’t possible.

  “Thanks. I’ll be okay.” I glanced up at the camera and hated my coworkers just then.

  Chapter Ten – Spencer

  It was a long, sleepless night after Charlotte woke me from my nightmare. I ended up watching the windows all night long, waiting for it to be morning so I had an excuse to stop trying to sleep.

  Around five o’clock, I heard screaming coming from her room—no, not screaming. Shrieking. Blood-curdling shrieks cut through the air and ran down my spine. I leaped from the couch and was down the hall in a matter of seconds.

  She was in bed, on her side, hands crossed over her throat. And screaming the place down. Her body was curled up in the fetal position and she was screaming with her eyes closed.

  “Charlotte! Charlotte, wake up!” I shook her as she’d shaken me.

  “Oh, God! God! Help!” She screamed again and again, then made a choking sound deep in her throat.

  “Charlotte!” I nearly lifted her off the bed and ended up sitting her on my lap. She woke up somewhere in there and her screams turned to tears. She wrapped her arms around my neck and shook with sobs.

  “I remembered! I remembered what happened. It hurt so much. Oh, God, it hurt so much and I was so scared.” I felt her trembling under my hands, and the rapid beating of her heart against mine.

  “You remembered the attack?”

  “Yes!” she wept. He tears soaked my bare shoulder. “I was trying to pull the thing, whatever it was, away from my neck. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t see who was hurting me. And I couldn’t make them stop. I tried but I couldn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I wanted to ask her so much more—did she ever see anybody come in? Did she see him in the mirror maybe? Did she hear anything? There was no way to ask questions like that just then.

  “I thought I was dying,” she whispered as her sobs quieted down. “I thought that was it. I was going to die. That was the end of my life. And I thought, there’s so much more I have to do. I have so much left to accomplish. I put so many things off.”

  “We all do that,” I murmured. “Everybody does. We think we have all the time in the world.” I realized I was rocking her a little, back and forth. She was so small, curled up in a ball, and there was only a thin scrap of satin between my hands and her skin. She wore a light pink nightgown. More like a slip. I slid my hand over her back and felt the way she still trembled.

  “You’re here now,” I murmured into her hair, my lips against the top of her head. “You’re here. You’re alive. And there’s gotta be a reason for that, you know? There’s gotta be. You have more to do. You should think about those feelings, I think, and remember them when you have the chance to do something and you think about saying no. Or when you tell yourself you have more time, you can remember how you felt and remember that we don’t all have the time we think we’re gonna have.”

  She pulled back a little, nodding. “You’re right. You’re right.” I was surprised when she got up and went to the bathroom without saying another word. I heard the water running. I heard her blowing her nose. I wondered what I should be doing. Should I leave? I felt pretty stupid all of a sudden, sitting there when she wasn’t crying anymore.

  “I guess we’re even now,” I said, trying to inject a little humor into my voice. “A nightmare for me, a nightmare for you. Only yours might actually have a point. You might remember something that’ll help us down the line.”

  She came out like a woman on a mission, practically stomping her feet. Fists clenched. She closed the door and locked it, then was in front of me before I could get the chance to ask why she’d locked the door. She took my face in her hands and thrust her tongue down my throat.

  My eyes flew open and I struggled to pull myself away from her. “No. I didn’t mean this.”

  “I do mean it.” She ran her hands over my shoulders, standing between my thighs. “I finally figured out why things stopped yesterday. No cameras in here.”

  “So you lured me in here?” I asked. I never thought she would stoop that low.

  And she didn’t, evidently. She pulled her hand back to slap me, and I caught her wrist just in time to stop her. “You bastard,” she muttered. “How dare you?”

  “I’m sorry. I had to ask.” I pulled her even closer by her wrist, then twisted her arm until it was behind her back. “I don’t like being slapped, by the way.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t mean for you to do this,” I said again.

  “I know that. But I still want to. I don’t want to put things off anymore.”

  And she was right there, and so beautiful. Her tits rose up and down in time with her breath and her nipples stood out against the thin satin. I could imagine touching them, running my thumbs in circles around them. Then my tongue. Her mouth was half-open, those full, firm lips were glistening and she licked them and I wanted to lick them, too.

  It was all wrong. All of it. I couldn’t be with her and yet there I was, with her near-naked body right in front of me, and I couldn’t help myself.

  I reached with my free hand, cupping it around the back of her neck, and pulled her to me. None of it mattered when she was that close and I was right there and she smelled so good and tasted so good. I ran my hand through her hair, wrapping it around my fingers, wishing I could take and hold whatever it was about her that made her so irresistible to me. I couldn’t have stayed away for all the money in the world.

  It only
took a split second to spark a response in her. Her free arm wrapped around my neck. I released the other and she wound that around me, too. When she melted into me, something inside roared. Yes. This was what we needed to do. How we needed to be. She was everything in the world just then, and she was in my arms and her perfect body was pressed against me and yes, it was right.

  I ran my hands over her legs, sliding them over the smooth, silky skin. She gasped, pulling her lips just far enough away from mine to let out a moan. Her ass was just as full and tight as I thought it would be, and she was only wearing a tiny thong. I slid my fingertips over it, feeling the way the goosebumps rose and spread under my touch. Knowing I could make her react that way was such a rush.

  I moved to her shoulders, sliding the straps over them, until only her tits were holding the nightgown up. She sighed when I tugged it gently, letting it fall in a puddle of satin to the floor. I couldn’t help staring at the perfection of her body, the full tits with their pink nipples, the slim waist, the flat stomach and curved hips. I let my hands do what they wanted, sliding over her, feeling every curve, every inch. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back with her eyes closed and her mouth open so she could moan my name. Spencer. Blood surged to my dick at the sound of it.

  I let myself taste her. She was sweet, tender, her nipples the perfect size for my mouth. I flicked them with my tongue, one after the other. The way she moaned was like music. I massaged her tits as I sucked, feeling the way her body writhed and moved as I pleasured her. Her moans grew louder, longer as I kept pleasuring her.

  I let my hands slide back down over her waist and hips, spreading her thighs a little. The heat was extreme, and the fabric of her thong was already soaked. I pulled it aside—I couldn’t wait any longer—and slid my fingers along her cleft. She was slick, swollen just like my cock. I was aching for her so much it hurt.

  She stiffened with a gasp when I dipped inside her lips, and when I touched her clit she screamed. “Yes! God, yes!” Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she came. I was stunned it happened so fast but watched and listened and felt her pulsing under my fingers.

  I lowered her to the bed and pulled the thong off with one quick motion, then spread her thighs. I bent to meet her, feeling like a man at a feast as I left a trail of slow kisses down her flat stomach. Muscles jumped and twitched under her skin wherever my mouth touched, like her entire body was coming to life wherever I caressed her. My hands slid over her, taking in every inch. She writhed and sighed and moaned, on and on. She was so beautiful. And she was all mine.

  I knelt beside the bed, between her spread legs. I pulled her closer until her ass was at the edge of the bed and, taking one of her lean legs in my hand, began running my tongue up the inside of her calf, then to the inside of her knee. She squealed and squirmed, and I could tell she was torn between pleasure and feeling ticklish. I held her in place, forcing her to take what I was giving her.

  Once she relaxed, she sank deeper into pleasure. Her hips began rolling in slow circles as she moaned, like she was thrusting her hot, wet sex closer to me. She gasped for breath when I dragged my tongue along the seam between thigh and mound. Her legs spread wider, like she was welcoming me in.

  “Oh, please…” Her head rolled side to side on the bed, golden hair spread like a fan along the blanket.She was lost, desperate for release from what I was putting her through.

  I ran my thumb along her cleft, spreading her swollen lips a little. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, like the sweetest perfume. I stroked her, only grazing her clit while I slid my other hand up her body until I reached her heaving tits. I strummed my fingers along the pink tips, one at a time, back and forth as I played with her pussy. I listened and watched carefully as I worked on her, paying attention to what she liked, changing things up to see what would get an even stronger reaction. I could’ve knelt there all day, just giving her all the pleasure she could handle.

  “God, please! Please, Spencer, let me come!” Her eyes flew open, glaring at me. “I can’t take any more!” She covered my hand with hers, squeezing, doing everything she could to push herself further along. Anything to give her the orgasm she so desperately needed.

  I replaced my thumb with my tongue, deciding to ease up on her a little. She’d already been through enough. I did with the tongue what I’d been doing with my thumb, licking along the outside of her dripping, pulsing slit without touching the pink folds. Her hips ground upward, like she was trying to hump my face. I held them down. She wouldn’t get away with deciding when she would come.

  “More…more…please…” she whispered, crying out until her voice went hoarse. I looked up across her flat stomach to see her playing with her tits. She pinched her nipples, rolling them a little, flicking them with her thumbs. It was enough to make me twitch and throb. I wished it was my cock dipping into her pink sweetness instead of my tongue. But that would come in time.

  When I made contact with her clit she just about jumped off the bed. It didn’t take long before she was completely lost, in a frenzy, going wild. Her thighs held my head in place while I worked on her, flicking the little bud with the tip of my tongue since that seemed to be what she liked best. Her cries grew louder, louder, until her entire body tensed and she shrieked, freezing for an endless moment while she reached the peak, then passed it.

  When it was over, she sank back into the bed, shaking and groaning as she came down. It was beautiful, watching her body work that way.

  I couldn’t think much about that just then. I wanted more than anything to be inside her. I needed to be. I hardly had time to fumble for a condom—she pointed them out in the bedside table, making me wonder for just a moment how many men she’d had in that room before me—and unroll it down my length before sliding into her. I wasn’t trying to make love. I didn’t want the moment to last. I wanted to fuck her, and hard.

  She was still pulsing, quivering with aftershocks. It felt almost too good, and I had to pause for a moment while I waited for her to loosen up before I could slide back, then in again.

  Once she was ready, I took her ankles and spread her legs wide, sinking into her again and again. She was so hot, so wet. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back as she lost herself. Her fingers hooked into claws as she pulled at the blankets, tightening her hands into fists.

  “Yes! Spencer, yes! Harder!” Her tits bounced in time with my thrusts and I watched them, mesmerized. She started tightening around me, bearing down as yet another orgasm built and grew. I held on, taking her harder and faster the way she wanted me to. She screamed again, this time hoarse and broken and almost like a half-sob.

  This time, I couldn’t hold back. Her muscles pulsed and squeezed and milked me. I thrusted a few more times, fast and hard, then groaned as I exploded so hard my arms and legs shook. I was sure I saw fireworks exploding behind my eyelids as I closed my eyes to soak in the sensation.

  Soon, I was falling onto the bed beside her, fighting to catch my breath. I couldn’t remember ever getting that caught up in somebody. I had never lost it like that. It was insane.

  It only took a few minutes for us to fall into a deep sleep, with her in my arms.

  Chapter Eleven – Charlotte

  Hell. What was I thinking? I was such an idiot.

  I woke up with his arms around me, on my side. I faced away from him. His slow, even breathing was almost enough to lull me back to sleep. Almost.

  What was I thinking? I asked myself again and again. Yeah, the sex was great. He was as amazing as he looked—better, even. The man knew how to move. He had the stamina of a marathon runner—and I knew, since I’d dated one. He knew the importance of pacing himself.

  He stirred a little and I froze. I even held my breath. Anything to keep him sleeping. Anything to keep him from wanting to talk about what we’d just done. I waited until he settled down again, breath returning to a normal rate. Only when I was sure he was asleep did I dare exhale.

  I hated the thought of scre
wing up what was already so weird between us. I absolutely hated it. We were just starting to become friends. I’d like that. Feeling like there was somebody I could be myself around. He didn’t want anything from me, not the way so many other people in my life did. I was so tired of that—never knowing if a smile was genuine. Never feeling free to show fear or real joy or real pain. Nothing real. All a show.

  I remembered the first guy I’d slept with after I started making it really big. God, I’d been crazy about him. I was so young. So stupid. Barely eighteen years old. Two years in the business, working my way up. I wasn’t an overnight sensation, even though it looked like I was. It looked on the surface like I was one of those legendary discoveries, like Lana Turner at the soda fountain. My publicist loved telling a story about how I’d been waiting tables at a diner in my little go-nowhere town. He’d been having breakfast there while his car, banged up thanks to a hidden pothole, was getting repaired at our local garage. He’d seen me there, he’d instantly imagined seeing my face on a big screen, and the rest was history. According to him.

  The reality was a lot less exciting. Hard work. Bit parts, uncredited. Weeks of eating ramen noodles to survive. Crashing Hollywood parties just for the chance to rub elbows with the rich and famous and maybe get some free food. I’d once sneaked a half-dozen dinner rolls home in my purse just to make sure I’d have something to eat for a little while.

  I’d slept with my first director when I was seventeen. It didn’t seem to matter to him that I was still underage and he’d promised my first real, actual role. What was I supposed to do? So I slept with him—it wasn’t half bad, really—and I’d gotten the part and that had led to bigger, better roles.

  But that wasn’t the sort of story that made the magazines. There weren’t any starry-eyed fangirls out there just creaming their panties while reading about yet another case of the casting couch. That wasn’t a story that put people on the bus to Hollywood with big dreams.