Sweet Jayne

by K. Webster

  My eyes widen and his lips twitch with amusement.

  “You need help, right? Well, I’m going to help you. I want that camera back where I can see that pretty pussy. You’re going to spread yourself open and show me everything. Then, I’ll tell you exactly how to touch yourself so you can get off. Sound good, baby?”

  I nod and do as he says. My heart is thundering in my chest. He didn’t reject me or laugh at me. No, he looks like he wants to devour me. And I love it.

  “Jesus,” he groans from the speaker when I position the camera for him to see my pussy. “Push two fingers into yourself. I want to watch you fuck yourself with your hand. Show me how wet you are.”

  His words light a match to my soul and I nearly come. A light sheen of sweat breaks out over my flesh. I’m craving him with every bone in my body.

  “Like this?” I push my fingers inside of me and thrust them in and out several times before pulling them back out. They glisten with my arousal.

  He growls and it sends a shiver through me. “Exactly like that. Now suck on them. I want to watch you taste yourself.”

  “Will it be gross?” I question as I bring both the camera and my wet fingers back to my face.

  His features are tight and serious. “Not gross at all. If I were there, I’d taste them for you and let you know before making you suck on them. But I’m not so you have to be a big girl and taste them for me.”

  Nodding, I bring my fingers to my mouth and slip them between my lips. The musky taste isn’t unpleasant…just different. I lick between the two fingers to make sure I don’t miss any.

  “Good girl,” he breathes. “Such a fucking good girl.”

  I beam at his praise and my pussy aches for more touch. “Now what?”

  The next few minutes are a blur of my frantic massages and his growled orders. Everything spins and fades out as Donovan, via Facetime, gives me my best orgasm I’ve had to date. My moans probably woke the girls in the neighboring dorm rooms but I don’t care. This was perfection.

  “Now I need another shower,” he says with a small laugh.

  “Why?” My voice is a soft purr like a kitten. “You’re not the dirty one here.”

  “It seems I made a little mess actually,” he chuckles. “A mess that you’d be cleaning up if you were here, since it’s all your fault.”

  Images of Donovan with cum all over his bare belly are enough to nearly have me climaxing again.

  “What we just did,” I say slowly, “was that wrong?”

  His lips draw down into a frown and I curse myself for souring his mood. “It didn’t feel wrong to me. But maybe we shouldn’t ever do it again.” He doesn’t look convinced though.

  Tears well in my eyes and I nod. “Okay. I have to go. I’m sleepy now.”

  “I love you, baby.”

  Te amo, Donovan.

  “Goodnight, Donovan. I’m sorry.”

  Not waiting for his response, I hang up and then let out a sob. A short brief, sexual moment with Donovan was worth the strain I just put on our relationship. He might not want us to do it again, but I’ll not settle until it does.

  This will happen again.

  And soon.

  “Fucking hell!” Logan grunts as he comes inside of me.

  His heat pours into me which sends my body into an orgasmic shudder. With Donovan still on my mind, I climax hard and without abandon. When I finally come down from my high, Logan laughs. His laugh is warm and unusual. It should make me happy for the progress I’ve made but instead, it coils its way into the pit of my belly like a snake.

  “I’ve never seen you come like that before. After all this time, and it’s a first.” He pulls out and sets me back to my feet. My legs shake but he keeps a grip on my biceps to keep me from falling. “Maybe you like it when I’m sweet.”

  I smile at him and nod despite the raging headache thundering in my skull from where he hit me. “Maybe I do.”

  I sit in my Camaro in the parking lot of Donovan Jayne’s resort and stare up at the monstrosity through my windshield while listening to The Eagles. Once again, Logan has me on babysitting duty. I glance down at my knuckles and groan. They’re still bruised from when I punched the brick wall outside of The Lounge after nearly choking Dale to death. If it didn’t earn me a straight ticket to prison, and hell for that matter, I’d have already put a bullet in Dale’s head.

  A few snowflakes swirl around the windshield, and I fixate my gaze on them. I wonder if Nadia is wearing another one of her signature dresses that are all too inappropriate for a Colorado fall. Yesterday, when I’d gone to work on the walls some more, she’d been nowhere in sight. Logan mentioned she had a migraine and she spent the entire time in bed with the door closed. He drank beer and shot the shit with me while I worked. It had driven me crazy not to see her again.

  I’ve been obsessing over where the hell she’s really been ever since. Something in his smug grins told me he put his hands on her again. It’s not natural for me to care about her—fucked up is what it is. But I can’t help it. She reminds me of Kase sometimes and that really scrambles my damn head up. As a result though, it makes me protective over her. It makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and get her the hell out of there.

  Before I left Logan’s yesterday, I almost did just that. Pure fucking insanity is what it is. Me trying to save someone I’ve hated for so long. Yet, I still went into the guest bathroom and contemplated how I could sneak into the master bedroom. We could have easily slipped out the back door undetected. She would have been in the safety of her stepfather’s arms by the next morning. But just before I made the decision to kidnap Logan’s fiancée, I shook my head in frustration and left. He’d have thwarted a rescue before I even made it to her bedside. The prick has cameras everywhere and would probably punish her somehow for my trying to help her. While her punishment used to arouse me, now it only infuriates me.

  Shit is way too fucking complicated right now.

  Needing some cold air, I press the button to the window and nearly sigh aloud when a blast of icy air rushes in around me. Snowflakes stick to my flesh and cool me off almost immediately.

  “Is there a reason you’re following me?”

  I jolt in surprise to see Donovan Jayne standing before me, peering into my car. Bristling at his words, I quickly recover and shoot him an uninterested smirk. “Logan asked me to.”

  He frowns and rounds the car without another word. Then the passenger door opens and he plops down beside me. Once he slams the door shut, he turns to glare at me.

  “Why did he ask you to?” he seethes. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  I meet his stare and shrug my shoulders. “Just taking orders. Besides, I hardly call assaulting the police chief in his own home and pulling a gun on him nothing. In fact, that’s some pretty serious shit, Donovan.”

  He huffs out a breath of air and runs his fingers through his hair before resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze is on his massive building in front of us. “Cut the crap, Kasper. We go way back. Be straight with me,” he says, sounding oddly like Taylor. “I’ve never given you any reason not to.”

  My mind flits back to the day I found his brother. We were supposed to go play some basketball with some of our friends at the rec center. But, when I’d gone across the street to catch a ride with him, I found his dead body instead.

  Blood splatter was all over their white leather couch which cost more than everything combined in the shitty-ass trailer I lived in with my family. The shotgun was still wedged between his thighs and his thumb was twisted inside the trigger guard. I’d thrown up all over the late Frank Jayne’s marble floors that day.

  My best friend left me for no fucking reason.

  Well, Donovan knows the reason I think.

  A single envelope with Donovan’s name scrawled across the top in Taylor’s messy handwriting had been lying on the coffee table. Every cell in me begged to tear it open and demand answers—not only for me but for Kasey. Those two were
in love. Having to tell her Taylor took his life was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. She’d already been suffering a bout of severe depression. I’d assumed it had something to do with Dale at the time. Now, I wonder if she knew Taylor was unhappy. Regardless, she spun deeper into her own head after that. Withdrew from everything and everyone. Started dressing all gothic. I had just started seeing her smiles again nearly three years later during my summer break of college, right before she was taken.

  “In case you missed it, your good buddy Logan is obsessed with your stepdaughter—says he’s in love with her. That’s why I’m here. To keep you away from her.” I shouldn’t be telling Donovan any of this. He went from a semi friend to enemy the day his stepdaughter became a witness to a crime involving my sister. I’m still curious, though, about what his take is on the whole ordeal.

  He fists both hands and his glare becomes murderous. “She doesn’t love him,” he seethes in a tone not to be fucked with.

  My eyebrows pinch together in irritation and the familiar ache in my shoulders presents itself. I’m always tense when the subject goes to Nadia. I hate the fact Logan controls her every move. That he puts his hands on her. He’s no better than Dale. “They’re getting married. She lives with him. Sure seems like love,” I taunt. I know better, but does he?

  He curses and loosens the knot on his tie. “She’s been gone for three years, kid. Three fucking years. And now, suddenly she’s back and…involved with that slimy bastard. You’re the cop—does that add up to you?”

  “I thought you and Logan were close. Maybe she’s doing it to piss her ‘ol stepdaddy off,” I muse. “What’d you do to her? Seems like if she has an agenda, it involves you.”

  His hand is at my throat before I can stop him and he clutches a fistful of my collar. “He’s nothing to me anymore—she is my everything!” he snaps. “I love her. So don’t ever say that shit to my face again.”

  I swat his arm away and he leans back in his seat huffing. He’s no better than Logan with the possessive love crap.

  “Get out of my car.”

  He frowns and runs his fingers back through his hair. “Jesus! I’m sorry, okay?” he mutters. “You know me, man. At one time you were practically a kid brother to me. You bailed after what happened with Taylor. I get it—it screwed me up too. Trust me. And then with your sister getting kidnapped… You’ve every right to be angry about the whole damn situation. But blaming Nadia for all of this is blinding you to the truth. Take yourself out of the situation. What if the roles were reversed? If someone you loved were in trouble, you know I’d try and help. I did help. Think about it. You can’t act like I wasn’t at that damn station every week after Kasey went missing.” His tortured expression meets mine and I have to close my eyes for a brief moment. Donovan and Taylor always looked so similar. Seeing him so vulnerable is a painful reminder of just that. I often wonder if Taylor would have ended up just like his brother, running multiple lodges and resorts.

  “You were there because of her. Not my sister. Nadia.” My argument is weak and I don’t feel strengthened by my anger anymore. What if he’s right? What if I am fucking blinded? “You came to the station to help your family. Not mine.”

  He sighs. “You were always family because of your friendship with my brother. And my family has done nothing but try to get her back since day one. Open your eyes, Kasper.”

  It annoys me that he’s lost his glossy façade and is struggling. Donovan is always composed. The fact that he’s coming apart at the seams has my nerves on edge. I don’t want to trust him. My familiar anger reminds me of this. But the investigative part of me—the bloodhound cop who drives me forward—tells me he’s not all bad and that there’s truth to his story. Never once was Donovan cruel to me or my family. It was me who pushed away, not him. And once Nadia got involved, I truly did become blind with hate.

  There’s most definitely something strange going on between Logan and Nadia. He’s absolutely right. It drives me a little fucking insane that I can’t figure out exactly what, though. All the puzzle pieces seem to be hanging in the air, waiting for me to snatch them up and put them together. It has to do with Donovan too—I’m sure of it—which is why I’m not too eager to buddy up to him. Something drove a wedge between those two guys. When Taylor and I were friends as teens, I’d seen how Donovan strutted around this goddamned town like he owned it. It only got worse when his father passed away, leaving him as the sole heir to an empire. Logan was always at his side like a loyal puppy. They were every bit as close as Taylor and I were.

  So what happened?

  When did the two kings of Aspen go their separate ways?

  He shifts his body toward me, his movements jerky. “You have to help me see her, man. That’s all I’m asking. I haven’t spoken to her properly in three years. There’s a reason for that and I intend on uncovering that reason. Everything was perfect and then she just fucking vanished with nothing more than a stupid letter sent to me not long after she left, only to turn up engaged to that motherfucker. Something isn’t right. Can’t you use your police skills and just help me find out what the hell is going on around here?”

  I rap my sore knuckles on the steering wheel, anger surging through me, eager to use them again. Maybe the next time I’ll use them on Logan’s face. “I’ve spent the last decade using my ‘police skills’ to find my fucking sister and look how that’s turned out,” I snap and scowl at him. “Your stepdaughter has been a thorn in my side since day one. She never cared about what happened to my sister back then so why the hell should I care about what happens to her now?”

  “She was a minor at the time. I had to protect her from the media.” He stares at me like I’m the moron here. “But Jesus, you’re an idiot for not seeing past your anger. If you would have, you’d have seen she spent every single extra ounce of her energy looking for your sister. I funded every one of her endeavors. You don’t think she feels guilt for what happened? Why the fuck do you think she went to college for criminal justice? She wanted to join the damn police academy for crying out loud!” he bellows from beside me. “Open your fucking eyes, Lieutenant. Nadia is a good person and doesn’t deserve this.”

  I cock a brow at him. It’s news to me that Nadia was actually searching for my sister. All I ever saw was Donovan’s formidable presence shielding her from everyone. I mean, sure, I saw her come to the station from time to time but nothing ever useful came from it. Not that it really changes the fact that she let her slip away in the first place. Why didn’t she attack that bastard? Remember one incriminating clue the police could use? Memorize a fucking license plate for crying out loud? She gave them nothing and trying to soothe her guilty conscience years after the fact is a joke. If I can’t find Kase, nobody can.

  “Logan is a damn psycho,” he mutters. “She’s not safe with him. You don’t know the half of it.”

  At this, I’m intrigued. One of those puzzle pieces locking into place. “Why do you say he’s a psycho?” I question, avoiding his small but desperate voice in my head urging me to ignore the years of blame I’ve placed on his stepdaughter.

  He shrugs and lets out a bitter laugh. “I’ve known him for a long time. He’s never been one to date much, but when he does, he’s a prick to whichever chick he’s putting his dick into.”

  “If he’s so psychotic like you say, why doesn’t she just leave?”

  His eyes cut over to mine, cold and flashing with hate. “I know her and it was almost like she was imprisoned by him when I saw her. Her eyes told a different story than the words that came out of her mouth. Maybe not a physical prisoner, but definitely a mental one. There’s a reason she is choosing to stay there. Nadia is stubborn as hell and oftentimes takes dangerous chances if she thinks it will get her what she wants.”

  I scoff at him. “So she uses people. She wants him for his money? Is that it?”

  Another look. Just like before. Like I’m a fucking idiot. “Don’t be ridiculous. She has access to a shitload of
money—far more than Logan could ever dream to make on his police chief’s salary. If she’s embedding herself into his life, she must think he will help her somehow.”

  “Help her what?” I’m growing impatient with his talking in circles.

  He shakes his head and gapes at me in astonishment. “She must think he can help her find Kasey. It’s the only logical explanation—the only reason I’ve been keeping my distance. And my patience with the entire situation is wearing incredibly thin. So are you going to help me or not?”

  I mean, I still plan on pulling any answers I can glean from Nadia, but I’m not really interested in destroying her any longer.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I lean back on the leather sofa and stare up at the ceiling. It irritates me that Nadia has been hunting for my sister all of these years. The glowing burn of hatred has begun to flicker and die out. Without that fueling me, I’m lost.

  Why does she think Logan can help her? How?

  “Thought you had to work on that wall or some shit, Ghost,” Rhodes says as he sips his Heineken. Mine remains untouched on his coffee table. I’m not in the mood to drink at the moment. I want my head clear so I can figure this shit out.

  “Logan said he was taking Nadia to dinner or something and to come back tomorrow after work.” I’d been annoyed when he popped into my office to mention it earlier this afternoon long after I’d been to see Donovan. I didn’t miss the way Logan’s eyes didn’t meet mine when he’d told me the change in plans. He just didn’t fucking want me there for some reason.

  “I still don’t understand what she sees in Chief. The guy can be…”

  “A prick?” I quip.

  He chuckles. “You said it. Not me.”

  Ashley comes waddling into the living room carrying a big purse and interrupts our exchange. “Babe, I’m going to go pick up Ames. Her flight will arrive within the hour.”