by Jewel E. Ann
I rest my hands on his forearms, closing my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“What if I’ve fathered a dozen children?”
I smile, fluttering my eyes open, a laugh escaping. “Then you’ll have to sell some of this stuff to get paid up on child support.”
“I’m serious. You’re not the first woman I’ve been with.”
I laugh again. “Well, you’re not the first man I’ve been with … not even close.” I pull away from him and start covering up his sketches.
“What if I killed someone?”
I swallow hard but keep my hands busy so he doesn’t see me flinch. “Then I’ll hope the court grants us conjugal visits.” I reply, controlling my nerves and censoring my reaction.
“You’re saying this because you don’t think it’s true. But what if it were?” It’s not always a look, with Trick it’s often just a feeling. Maybe it’s something only I can feel. I used to think it was a challenge, part of his take-me-or-leave-me personality. But as of lately that feeling holds a hint of fear … insecurity.
“What if I die tomorrow? What if you do? What if terrorists attack our city?” I deflate; there really are no words of comfort. “I choose to love you now because there’s no future in what ifs, there’s only now.”
Eyes. On. Me. God, he has the most commanding gaze, a predatory look, that hunted feeling of being cornered where surrender is the only way to survive. “Come.”
*
Naked under a blanket on the couch with Trick, sipping cocoa after incredible sex, it can’t possibly get any better than this.
“When did you first realize your talent?” I lean back against his chest and sip my chocolate bliss.
“The beginning of my sophomore year in high school. Alicia Watson, she was a senior and had the biggest rack I’d ever seen. She was experienced and I told her I was too, but it was actually my first time. Rumors of my skills, all true of course, spread like wild fire within days.”
I twist my body toward him. “What are you talking about?”
He takes a sip, using his mug to hide his smirk. “My talent. After what just happened … you know, the screaming and begging … I assumed you were referring to my sexual talent.”
“Oh my God!” I turn back around and elbow him in the gut, almost spilling my cocoa. “The only thing that could have spread like wild fire is your ego. And they’re breasts not a rack!”
He continues to chuckle as his free hand slides up to my breast. “These are breasts…” he circles his thumb over my nipple “…Alicia had a rack, and for the record, I’m a breast guy.” I feel his erection push against my back.
My eyelids grow heavy as Trick sets his drink down and mine next to it. He uses both hands to caress my breasts, bringing my nipples to firm peaks. Arching my back to his touch, I moan. My eyes flutter open. “What is that?” I squint.
He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. “What’s what?” he mumbles, dragging his tongue down my neck.
I place my hands over his, stopping his motion. “Attached to the electrical conduit pipe. Is that a …”
“Camera.” He starts to squeeze my breasts again, his breath hot in my ear.
“Camera?”
“For security. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who can look at the footage.”
“Oh my God! Is it always recording?”
“It’s motion-activated.” He nips and sucks at my neck some more while his right hand slides down my abdomen.
He moans and I feel a bead of moisture against my back as his hips rock up, his firm erection sliding against my skin. “Fuck, Darby … your body is so damn sexy.” His middle finger pushes over my clit between my slick folds.
Everything is such a blur when he touches me, but it doesn’t stop my eyes from trying to focus on the camera. We have a blanket over us, but is it really masking our movements?
Are we being recorded? Do I care? Oh hell!
Trick tosses the blanket off us with one hand while his other slides down farther. An uncontrolled moan escapes as his finger slides into me. “I want to see you come, sexy.”
The camera …
“Spread your legs wider …”
I spread them and his finger slides the rest of the way in.
“That’s it.” His words … his voice … it turns me on as much as his touch. “Look at yourself … every peak…” he pinches my nipple “…every valley…” he rubs his palm against my clit as he finger fucks me into oblivion “…every curve…” his hand slides from my breast to my hip, and clenching it hard he pulls me back against him, his erection finding more friction against my back “…you’re just. So. Fucking. Beautiful.”
I rock my pelvis into his hand, arch my back, and reach behind, clenching his hair. “Trick, oh my God …”
The camera …
“I’m so close, d-don’t stop …”
The camera … the camera … Oh FUCK! The camera!
It hits me so hard I could die right here on the spot. The camera has been haunting me, but not because it’s recording what’s happening now or even the numerous times we’ve had sex before today.
“Oh God!”
“Let it go, sexy.” Trick’s voice grits next to my ear.
Shoving his hand away while thrashing my body like a trapped animal, I leap from the couch with frantic urgency. I grab the blanket off the floor and wrap it around my body.
“What the hell?” Trick yells with wide-eyed confusion.
“You have to erase everything that’s been recorded on the camera since you met me. Please, I’m begging you. Don’t ask questions, don’t watch it, just erase it. Promise me, Trick, promise me you’ll just do this for me. If you love me, you’ll just say yes. Okay?” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so desperate in my life. My heart pounds with anxiety, fueled by every nerve in my body firing with blood curdling fear.
Trick looks at me like I’ve transformed into an alien and maybe I have.
“PLEASE!” I drop to my knees. I actually … Drop. To. My. Knees.
Trick sits up and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. The cockiest smirk I have ever seen pulls at his lips. “Darby Lucille Carmichael, what the fuck has got you worked up into such a frenzy?” His gaze drops to my hands and so does mine.
I didn’t think it was possible to look or sound any more pathetic. I was wrong. My fingers are interlaced and white knuckled at my chest. I’ve been stripped of my dignity, robbed of my self-respect, and put on display in the town square with a noose around my neck. At this point I don’t know if I prefer the stay of execution or the floor to fall out from under my feet.
My phone rings and I manage to deflate even more. I crawl, yes crawl, over to the table because I’m not done begging. I answer it, keeping my eyes on Trick’s as one of the nurses from the hospital informs me of a multiple injury accident requiring extra staff. After a clipped response, I press End.
Sitting back on my heels, blanket lost along the way, I rub my hands over my face.
“You have to go?” Trick asks.
I nod, blown away by the timing. Some idiot was probably preoccupied on their cell phone causing a huge accident riddled with casualties. I should take this opportunity to count my blessings and realize my issue is nothing compared to the victims on their way to the hospital. But I’m human and a very selfish part of me feels like one of the casualties today.
“We can continue this intriguing conversation later.” Trick stands, pulling on a gray pair of sweat pants while I dress with swift moves.
“If you don’t erase it or if you watch it, we’re over.” I pull on my shirt and shove my phone into my handbag.
Trick grabs my waist and jerks me into his bare chest. “We’re never over.” He nips at my pouty bottom lip.
I shove his chest and head to the elevator. “We are if you don’t do what I ask. If you watch that I swear I will hate you forever!”
I turn and shut the elevator gate, a stern warning on
my face.
“Yeah, well I’ve been the recipient of your so-called hate before, and I think it’s kinda hot.” He wets his lips. “Besides, I was here. Is there a particular performance you’re not proud of?”
I press the down button, scowling as he disappears.
Yes, Trick! I’m not particularly proud of the “performance” where I masturbated while watching you shower … more than once!
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thirteen people were involved in the accident, eight survived … for now, and two of the eight survivors are children. Their parents were both casualties. A younger version of Trick flashes in my head. One day your parents are here, the next day they’re gone. Yet, I still can’t piece that part of his past together. It doesn’t make any sense.
It’s nearly eleven at night by the time I get home and my next shift is in the morning. Trick hasn’t tried calling or texting. I have to hope for the small silver lining to this emotional day—he erased the recordings without watching them first. Trick may be introverted, but I bring out his cocky side and I know he wouldn’t wait one second to call me about my ‘performance’ so I don’t think he’s watched it.
The faster we can forget about all my performances, including my meltdown this afternoon, the better. I take the lead by sending off a quick text as if nothing happened.
Me: Just got home. Sooo tired. Dinner tomorrow? Love you <3
I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I jump in the shower then dry my hair and collapse into bed. The instant I shut off my light, my phone chimes.
Trick: Yes to dinner. Sleep well. Love you.
I sigh, closing my eyes. Trick has earned my trust big time. If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want to ever mention it again, I would send him a candy land of Emojis thanking him for respecting my wishes. Trick’s the best … the very, very best!
*
Just a few short months ago I met my best friend; then my dreams came true. I was a caterpillar until the metamorphosis of his love set me free, and now I fly high … so high on every thought of him.
Point A to point B … It’s all bliss racing across town from a job I love to the man I love. Does one person deserve to be this happy? I park in the garage, my garage spot, and take the elevator upstairs. It’s dark and silent, so I assume Trick is still working. Maybe I should get naked on the bed and wait for him. Then again, he’ll be hungry and so am I. Maybe sex can wait.
Drumming my nails on the kitchen counter I contemplate making dinner for us. I’m sure Trick thinks my only useful skills are sex and sutures. Inspecting the cabinets and refrigerator, I realize my options are minute. A trip to the grocery store is in order, so I decide to pop down and let Trick know my plans.
As I walk by the window, I see him in his zone. The sexy intensity on his face when he works does all sorts of crazy stuff to my body. Opening the door, the curly-haired brunette shifts her gaze to me, but mine goes to her hand, fingers slipped inside Trick’s front pocket. He, as usual, doesn’t acknowledge me. I glare at her while assessing the situation. For a split second I give her the benefit; maybe she’s unstable on the stool and using him for balance. But when her knee begins to rub along the inside of his leg the balance excuse vanishes.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate you keeping your hands and legs to yourself.” I lean against the checkout counter.
Trick doesn’t turn in my direction, or even flinch to acknowledge that I’ve just spoken. The brunette smirks. The fucking bitch actually smirks! And because she’s just that stupid, she sits up straighter, arching her back and shoving her silicon balloons within an inch of Trick’s chest. I don’t need an Urban Dictionary from Jade to know that this bitch is gonna die!
I push off the counter and march up next to Trick. “I’m going to get a few groceries,” I say through gritted teeth while wrapping my hand around stupid’s wrist and removing it from Trick’s pocket.
“You did not just touch me?” She raises her brows like I’ve committed a crime.
Trick finally looks over at me then down at my hand clenched around her wrist. “Darby,” he warns.
I release her wrist. “Yes,” I smile, batting my lashes at him.
“I don’t know who she thinks she is, but if she touches me again—”
Trick holds up his finger to her while looking at me. “Darby was just leaving.”
My eyes go wide while cocking my head to the side. “I was?”
“Groceries … go.”
Trick may not want to make waves, but if he doesn’t put an end to this I’m going to be the goddamn tsunami that does.
The brunette smirks and … No way! How many shades of stupid is this broad? Her hand goes back to his pocket.
“If you want all your fingers to work when you walk out of here, I suggest you keep your hands. To. Yourself!” I grab her hand with a little more force.
“Hands off, bitch!” she yells, yanking her wrist from my grasp.
“Darby!” Trick growls.
“You get your hands off, bitch!” I try to wedge myself between her and Trick, getting up in her face.
Trick wraps his arms around me from behind, lifting me off my feet.
“Let me go!” I yell.
“Quiet!” he grinds in my ears while hauling me off toward the back. Opening the infamous storage closet door, he drops me and slams the door behind us.
I whip around, hands fisted, jaw clenched. “She’s groping you!”
“You’re making a scene.” He leans forward toward my face.
I stand by my original claim. “She’s. Groping. You!”
“She’s a fly on my ass. When I’m working I don’t notice so it doesn’t matter.”
I shove his chest, forcing him to step back until his back hits the door. “It matters to me!”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got to get back out there. We’ll discuss this later.”
“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” I warn as he turns to open the door.
“Or what?”
I draw in a shaky breath. “Or you’ll break my fucking heart. Because somewhere over the past few months I got the impression that you love me.”
His shoulders slump, back still to me.
“And when Grady invited all those people over you said these hands, only these hands. Was that a lie?”
His hand moves back, clasping mine. I close my eyes. As frustrating as Trick can be, it will never go unnoticed by me just how much he gives of himself to me. Sometimes it’s more than I think he really has to give. But even for him, I will not be a doormat.
He opens the door and leads me out to an obviously perturbed brunette. Pulling up another stool off to his right, he keeps hold of my hand while I climb up on it. Brunette tries to burn a hole in my skull with her evil eyes as Trick brings his mouth to my ear.
“I do love you.”
He releases my hand and gives his focus back to her. My heart stands idle in my chest as her hand reaches for his pocket.
“Hands off,” Trick says while rouging her cheeks.
He resuscitates my heart. Her whole body goes rigid as all the color drains from her shocked face. I don’t give her another glance. There’s only one person in this room worthy of my attention—Trick … only Trick.
He finishes up, takes her money, and locks the door after she leaves. When he turns, my lips turn up into a sheepish smile. He walks back to me with that damn unreadable look. Hands go straight to my hair as he leans down and rubs his nose against mine. I slip my hands under his shirt, and he steps closer as I slide them up his back, digging my fingers into him. A silent claim that he is in fact mine.
“Darby?”
Here comes the lecture.
I close my eyes as his lips ghost over mine. “Hmm?”
“Marry me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
3 Days Earlier
I’m not proud of looking through Darby’s phone contacts, but I need something I can’t ask her for—answers. Right now, ther
e’s only one person who I know has them.
“Rachel Hart,” she answers her phone in an exasperated voice.
“How do you know me?”
Her silence confirms my suspicions.
“Who is this?”
“How did we meet?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Stop lying to me!”
She sighs with impatience. “I met you when my stepdaughter brought you to dinner.”
“You knew I wouldn’t recognize you, but you were still nervous … that’s what I recognized.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I fucked you.”
She snickers, unable to hide her nerves. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m a married woman.”
“I love Darby.”
“You don’t know what love is.” The piercing edge to her voice unmasks her façade. “If you have a working cell left in your brain, you’ll walk away and never contact me or Darby ever again.”
“Because I fucked you?”
“Get. This. You pathetic waste of space, I am a self-made woman and I can guarantee you no man has ever fucked me!” She hangs up.
Just what I was afraid of … she fucked me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“What did you just say?” My fingers dig deeper into his back.
Trick closes his eyes and brushes his lips across my forehead, down my cheek, finding home at my mouth. “Marry me, Darby Carmichael.” He opens his eyes to mine … my eyes that … Can. Not. Blink. “You’re the only memory I ever want. So can you do that? Can you give me … you … forever?”
Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!
Tears. So many tears for a friendship I never imagined, a love only found in dreams, and a man that has captured my heart so completely I can only breathe when I’m in his arms.
Trick brushes the back of his hand over my cheek and kisses me with beautiful patience and fragility. “Say yes, Darby,” he whispers with a vulnerability that pulls at every one of my heartstrings.
The mind speaks with reason and logic. The heart … it doesn’t speak, it just feels. But here’s the thing about feelings … they are the unspoken truth.
