The Big O Series

by M. S. Parker

  Jake remedied it by crowding me up closer until I was pinned between him and the wood. The cool surface against my front was a sharp contrast from the heat of him, pressed so solidly against my back.

  I couldn't move now, and his thrusts went from deep and hard to rapid upward thrusts that had him rubbing against me in a whole new way.

  I exploded, coming so hard, it knocked the breath from me, and for a few seconds...I saw stars.

  Fourteen

  Michelle

  The dream hadn't come to me in quite a while.

  I could go months without thinking about him now and just as long without having this nightmare.

  But maybe I should have expected it. Jake's voice in my ear, "Tell me you want me..."

  It was too close an echo to the cold, ugly voice that had all but screamed in my ear years before. "Don't you go crying, you little whore. You want this...tell me you want this!"

  The demand was followed by a hand on my throat, grasping my breast, the promise of violence or pain just a breath away.

  "Tell me you want it."

  "You know you want this."

  "Dirty little whore."

  It was my uncle's voice. He'd been arrested, but a fuck-up on part of the cops had all but gotten the worst of the charges thrown out before we'd even had a chance to really begin. The bastard had ended up only serving a pathetic six months for what he'd done.

  Sometimes, I saw him everywhere I looked, even though he lived hundreds of miles away.

  But in that dream, he was right there.

  "Tell me you want it, Michelle...you fancy little whore. Shaking your ass. Tell me you want it."

  Sobbing, I jerked away from big, mean hands, but he grabbed my face and shoved it back into the chair. "Be still. You're going to get what you've been asking for."

  Hands, tearing my clothes away.

  "Don't, please!" I begged. But it wouldn't stop him. He'd done it before, and I'd messed up by letting him catch me alone in the pool house. "Please, please, please don't!"

  He smashed into me, his bulk knocking the air from my lungs as he pressed me flat against the chaise. "Keep fighting, sweetie. It makes it better."

  I heard his zipper and fought harder, although that would just make it hurt more.

  He rammed into me and it hurt, tearing me.

  "Don't!"

  "For fuck's sake, Michelle!"

  That voice–

  I sucked in a breath as hands grabbed my shoulders and shook me, forcing me awake. Panting, my belly trying to crawl its way up my throat, I sat there. "No...no...no..."

  "Michelle, sugar, it's me." A gentle hand touched my cheek. "Baby, it's Jake."

  Shuddering at the sound of his voice, I closed my eyes and sagged in relief. I ended up collapsing against the wide shelf of his shoulders, one arm supporting my weight, the other bracketing me around the waist, cradling me tight.

  "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay."

  I couldn't believe that. How could it be okay? But he kept saying it, stroking my back and murmuring to me until I nodded and let him tug my head back until he could look into my eyes.

  I didn't have the strength to resist. I just sat there as his horror and rage filled eyes met mine.

  Jake knew.

  Out of all the things he could have figured out about me, he now knew this.

  The humiliation of it was enough to lay me low.

  He didn't just pat me on the head and tuck me back into bed before leaving.

  He would leave. I knew it.

  I'd woken him up, screaming and fighting – it looked like I might have punched him. There was the faintest shadow of a bruise coming up on his left cheekbone. Why would he stay after all of that?

  But for now, he sat nearby, watching me with worried eyes.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," I lied. "Maybe a little thirsty."

  "I'll get you some water." He practically jumped up to get it. Probably glad to have something to do, to get away from me.

  I couldn't blame him. I wanted to get away from me, away from the echoes of the nightmare, away from the memories, away from myself. He was only gone a few seconds, back in the room almost immediately after he'd left, carrying a tall glass filled halfway.

  "Here."

  With a hand that shook, I accepted it.

  Probably a good thing he hadn't filled it all the way, I guessed.

  After draining half of it, I went to put it down on the table, but he took the glass and set it down himself. I just wanted the ground to open up, swallow me whole. This was embarrassing – humiliating. I couldn't even think of enough words to describe how awful this was.

  It was bad enough just living with what had been done to me but having Jake see the after effects? It had been years. Years.

  And still, the nightmares lingered.

  And I was still suffering.

  "Is there anything I can do?" Jake asked, his voice soft.

  "I..." Flicking a look at him, I shook my head. "No."

  This was it. This was when he'd come up with a reason to leave. There was no reason to stay, really. I was okay – mostly. I'd dealt with the nightmares alone for years, ever since I'd gone off to college. Actually, before that. I'd learned how to hide them from my parents.

  But...Jake didn't leave.

  As I sat there in the bed, he slid back in next to me. I caught my breath as he pulled me into his arms, tucking me into his lap. "You're sure you're okay?" he murmured against my neck.

  "I'm...good enough, okay? It was just a nightmare."

  "No, it wasn't." His voice was firm, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear the truth in those words, but I didn't argue with him.

  The arms around me tightened and he pressed his face into my hair. "Who was it?" The question came out half-muffled, but I heard it loud and clear.

  It was a demand mixed with a plea.

  I'd heard that sort of urging before. Years ago, from my mother and father.

  "Tell them, baby," Mom had said. "Honey, you have to tell the police. They can't fix this if you don't talk." They hadn't been able to fix it anyway, but just having them believe me had been a relief. All that time, he'd taunted me, made me think nobody would believe me, nobody would love me anymore if I told.

  But Mom and Dad had believed me, and more, they'd stood with me. All throughout my uncle's arrest, his trial, even the miserably short sentence.

  Mom's family no longer talked to us. I tried to tell myself I didn't care, but I lied. It did...hurt. Even though there had been a witness, even though I'd been covered in bruises from that last time...

  "Michelle!"

  The half-frenzied sound of Jake's voice jerked me back to the present. Dazed, I looked up at him. "Can I get some more water?"

  A moment later, he pushed the glass into my hand and I drained it.

  "Do you need more?" he asked softly.

  "No." I gave him the glass back, then looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "It was my uncle – my mother's brother. Parker. I was fifteen."

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my hands into fists then slowly unclenched them. "He started...touching me a few months before that, then it...got worse." Rubbing the back of my hand over my mouth, I looked up. "Do you want to hear this?"

  "No. But I need you to tell me anyway," he said honestly. "That probably doesn't make sense."

  "Yeah." To my surprise, I was able to smile. "It makes more sense than you realize." So...I started to talk.

  And once I was done talking, I started to cry.

  He held me until I fell asleep.

  Fifteen

  Jake

  He started touching me.

  It got worse.

  Those words twisted in my head, mixed with all the other things she'd told me, and I wanted to find the son of a bitch, twist him into a shape resembling a pretzel, then snap him into broken, bloody pieces.

  Next to me, Michelle slept on, her face pressed against my chest. She'd cried so
hard, it was like it was going to rip her into pieces. I was glad when the tears had finally faded away – not because they'd bothered me. Okay, they had, but not that way. It had hurt just because she'd been hurting. I hadn't known how to fix it. I didn't know what to do now.

  The only thing that came to mind was that I needed to find that miserable bastard Parker and hurt him.

  It helped that the fuck was in Chicago.

  It didn't help that Chicago wasn't really that far away.

  I needed to stop thinking about this, or I'd be tempted to book myself a ticket and hunt that bastard down.

  He did six months in jail. It wasn't for...rape, she'd whispered the last word, like it hurt to even say it.

  Six months. What he'd done left scars she still felt, and she couldn't even say the words without flinching, and he'd done a whopping six months. Bastard.

  I must have made a noise because Michelle grumbled under her breath and wiggled around in the bed. Holding my breath, I waited, hoping I hadn't woken her up.

  She needed the rest after that nightmare – and the storm that followed.

  Once I knew she wasn't waking up, I slid out of the bed. The glass she'd used was still sitting on the table, so I picked it up and carried it out with me.

  In the kitchen, I refilled it, slowly and methodically draining it as I stared at nothing. I didn't know how to handle...inaction. I couldn't just leave right now, buy a ticket, and go kill that son of a bitch.

  I wanted to. She'd even given me his name, and I could find him. I could find him, I could hurt him. I could make him wish he'd never so much as looked at her.

  Brooding, I put the glass down and covered my face with my hands.

  "Jake?"

  The sound of her voice, soft and sleepy, had me dropping them. "Michelle. I woke you up."

  "No...not really." She shrugged, stepping into the kitchen with the sheet wrapped around her shoulders. "I woke up when you weren't there. So maybe you not being there woke me up."

  She smiled at me and her cheeks dimpled. It was enough to knock the breath out of me, that smile on her face.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, her expression sobering.

  "I want to touch you." Flexing my hands, I looked down at them, then back at her. "And for the first time, I'm not sure how I should even do it."

  "I'm still me," she said softly. "I'm still the same me I was a couple of hours ago."

  "I'm not sure if I'm the same me." Pushing off the counter, I moved toward her.

  Her eyes dropped down, and she glanced at the windows at my back. "You're...um...you're naked. And I don't have curtains," she said, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

  "If anybody is that damn curious, then let them get an eyeful." I was amused over her discomfort over my own modesty, but I wasn't about to let hers be violated, since I could tell it would bother her. Once I was close, I reached up and covered the hand holding her sheet in place. "Dance with me."

  "There's no music," she whispered.

  "Does there need to be?" Sweeping her into my arms, we started to move. I kept her hand trapped between us, sliding my free arm around her waist and pulling her snug against me. Her heart pounded against my hand – I could feel it. It raced so fast, and I knew it didn't have anything to do with us dancing. We barely moved as we swayed back and forth across the floor, slowly working our way closer into the bedroom.

  The sheet rubbed against my legs, and my cock already ached. Once we were inside the privacy of her room, I freed the sheet and tugged her back up against me so that nothing separated us. Skin to skin, her breasts pressed snug to my chest, my cock cuddling up against her.

  Dipping down, I caught her around the waist and lifted her.

  She gasped, her head dipping down, then falling back as I thrust up into her. She twined her legs around my hips as we merged. But I didn't do anything more – except dance. We moved. And Michelle's pussy clenched around me, tight little shivers that milked me and drove me insane.

  Perfect...it was perfect.

  She whimpered as I spun us around, the sheet falling down to tangle around us before hitting the floor.

  "On the bed," she whispered, kissing me.

  "Not yet." I fisted a hand in her hair, tangling it and yanking her head back so I could drag my teeth down her neck.

  She gasped, and it was like I felt the clenching go through her body from her mouth, straight down to where she wrapped around me so damn tight.

  "Please, Jake," she moaned, shoving her hands into my hair and kissing me. "I want you."

  "You've got me." Oh, fuck, did she have me. It was dangerous to even think that, but my brain and other parts had already gone down that road.

  Another slow circuit around the room, and I thought I'd lose it before I'd make it to the bed. Lose it, or fall on top of her and lose control.

  No.

  I didn't want to do that. Not tonight.

  There was a divan near the windows – complete with curtains – and I stopped there, laying down with her sprawled over me. "You want me," I said, catching her hips. "Then take me."

  Michelle pushed up, her hands braced on my shoulders. The position changed our angles and a sharp moan escaped her, while I ended up clenching my teeth to keep from reacting.

  She smiled, a little nervous at first, then more easily as she began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, lazy movement that had her clitoris rubbing against me.

  I worked a hand between us and stroked upward, opening her folds and she whimpered, working her hips against my touch. She made another rough noise in her throat – each one making me a little crazier.

  Tightening my hands on her hips, I arched up, and she groaned. "Again," she said roughly. "Do that again."

  So I did, arching up to meet each lazy forward thrust until they weren't so lazy anymore. Grabbing her behind the neck, I pulled her down. Her mouth opened on a moan as I kissed her, pressing a stinging line down her chest until I could close my mouth around her nipple, first the left, then the right.

  Palming her breasts, I plumped them together, dipping my tongue into the valley.

  She shivered and arched closer. "Jake," she whispered.

  Sweat bloomed on our skin until we slid against each other, her hair around us a curtain. The dim light glinted in her eyes, her smile so sexy and sweet, it drove me mindless.

  "Please!"

  That broken sound was the one I'd been waiting for, and I moved faster, lost to everything but her, each sound she made, each milking clasp of her body. And then, the first shudders of her climax.

  I pulled out and twisted.

  She moaned. "Don't...Jake, don't stop."

  "I'm not, baby, I promise." Pulling her to the edge of the divan, I draped her knees over the edge and thrust back inside. She jolted in surprise as I caught her behind the knees and pushed them high. She felt impossibly tight, impossibly hot.

  Pumping harder, faster, I bent over her, using one hand to work her clitoris while staring into her face.

  She panted, her hair a tangle across her face, eyes wide. The second climax hit hard and fast and I stopped trying to hold my own back.

  I stopped trying to hold back completely...and it wasn't just physical.

  Sixteen

  Michelle

  My entire body felt like it had been turned into a pile of goo. I had no bones, no spine, no strength. The bones had been replaced by wax and Jake had sapped me of my strength.

  My face was tucked up against his chest while I waited for my heart to calm.

  I was also waiting for the storm to start.

  Sometime over the past few minutes, reality had kicked in, and I realized just...what I'd told him.

  That had been everything. All the dark, ugly pieces of me, he now knew. I didn't like me even knowing them, but now he knew them too.

  I didn't even want to think about that, much less how I'd broken down and collapsed and cried.

  Again.

  The nightmare was far from the
first and the spiral of tears and despair was nothing new, but it sure as hell hadn't ever happened around anybody before.

  Why now? Why with Jake here?

  Nobody had ever witnessed one of my nightmares.

  Why did the first person have to be him?

  But of course, it would be.

  It wasn't like I'd spent the night with a guy before – or had one spend the night with me. The few pathetic attempts I'd had at normal relationships in college had always ended with the guy leaving my apartment, or feeling guilty or desperate to get away from the hysterical girl who'd started out just fine but ended up in tears.

  "You're thinking too loud."

  Jake's hand smoothed through my tangled hair and rested on the back of my neck.

  "I'm fine," I said, my voice husky and thick. At least it wasn't all because of tears. My body still ached from him, in the best possible way.

  Why was he still here?

  I kept waiting for him to get up and tell me he needed to leave. It wasn't like he didn't have a reason.

  "If you were any tenser, you'd snap," Jake said softly. He rolled, spilling me onto my back with him laying between my thighs. "You and that brain...it kicked on a few minutes ago and hasn't shut off since. What are you thinking about that has you so worked up?"

  As he spoke, he reached up to rub the line of tension that had formed between my eyebrows, and I unconsciously relaxed those muscles, a headache beginning to pound in reaction. "Nothing," I lied.

  "I'll let you get away with that one." He sighed. "But don't lie. If you don't want to talk about it, just tell me."

  My face flamed even hotter. "Why do you have to keep pushing? What else do you want?" Hell, how much more could I possibly give him anyway?

  "I want to know what's wrong," he said again. "Why you're so tense, why it feels like you'll break." He pressed his thumb to the line between my brows and pushed gently, carefully. He did it again and again until it was an effort to keep my eyes open simply from the pleasure that light massage brought.