by Joy Eileen
It took my brain a moment to get its wits together enough to figure out what he wanted from me. “I’m yours, Killer. Forever. Nobody else but you.”
He closed his eyes when I spoke, soaking in my acceptance. When he opened them, they were filled with possession and need. He pumped his fingers in and out of me using his thumb to stroke my clit. An orgasm washed over me with his name on my lips. He yanked his pants off, positioning himself at my entrance and plunging into me to the hilt.
My waning orgasm thundered back, and I squeezed him as the last of it dissipated. We stared at each other, reveling in the fact we were together again after being apart for so long.
“I love you, Killer.”
He gave me his half smile as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in. “I love you too, Slick.”
We started slow, but as soon as we declared our love, our passion took over. We clawed and marked, showing each other with our bodies how much we craved the other. We were insatiable, showing how starved we had become for one another. The next round was slower as our sweat-covered bodies loved one another.
"No more keeping stuff from me, Slick. When I found out about Trent and the notes he was sending you, I almost went insane. It hurt me that you didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on. I can't handle anymore lies or secrets."
My stomach bunched at his words. He was right; I shouldn't have kept the notes from him. My mistrust needed to be removed to make our relationship as strong as it could be.
"Jason called me the other day."
Kill sat up and pinned me with his gaze. His eyes burned with anger and pain. I put my hand on his chest to stop him so I could finish.
"I told you, because I didn't want you to find out some other way. He's somewhere on the east coast. His dad sent him to some mental hospital when the police caught him violating the restraining order. The day I confronted him was his undoing."
Kill opened his mouth, but I stopped him again.
"He’s going to have to be dealt with. He isn't going to let me go, his phone call proved it. Let's not think about it just yet. Can't we just bask in this for a little while, before we get pulled back into the drama of life?"
Kill let out a deep breath, his eyes searching my face before he finally nodded his consent. "If he contacts you again, let me know. No more secrets. And we will deal with him. You are mine, and he will never touch you again." His voice had a hint of steel in it.
"No more secrets. We'll figure out something to do about Jason."
With everything out in the open, we fell asleep, our bodies entwined. I felt at peace with Kill wrapped around me. He was my home, my security. He’d repaired my broken heart.
I awoke to banging on our bedroom door. Jet yelled out we had three minutes to get decent before he came in. My clothes were too far away, and it would have taken too long to retrieve them using the crutches. Kill laughed, as he gathered them for me. He pulled on his jeans, not bothering to button them. I stared at his chest and the V pointing to one of my favorite things in the world and swallowed hard.
“Stop it, Slick. I don’t want Jet in here while I have a raging hard on. Later.” He kissed my head just as Jet and Amy came running in. Amy slammed into me, hugging me securely. I was on the bed with the covers over my waist, because it would have taken too long to get my pants back on over the cast.
“What the hell took you so long?” she asked, hugging me again.
“Sorry; I had to figure some things out.”
Amy rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment any further. Jet came over and hugged me, kissing me on the top of my head. I was shocked at the sweet gesture, coming from him. They sat on the bed, careful about my cast. Jet uncovered it, saying he wanted to sign it.
"Don't pull the covers up any farther than the cast," I warned him.
A mischievous look graced Jet's face, but Kill smacked him in the back of the head to let him know I was serious. I wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it, but Jet pulled out a black sharpie and started doodling on my cast. I told them the whole story of what happened the night Trent knocked me off the road.
Jet looked over at me, and for the first time, he appeared serious. “I hate you had to go through that, Faith. It didn’t feel right when we were on tour, and you weren’t there. You're a part of this family, and we need you. Besides, bad things happen to you when you aren’t with us. So just accept your fate and stick with us.”
I gave him a stunned look.
“What? I know I'm a sex god, but even sex gods know what they're talking about.”
I laughed and glanced up at Kill. He wore a half smile on his face, looking relaxed. I knew how he felt. Just being near him made the world feel right.
“Okay, no more staying away. I promise," I said, looking directly at Kill.
His nostrils flared, and he climbed on the bed next to me, kissing me hard on the lips. “So, when we go on tour, I expect your sexy ass to be on the bus with the rest of us.”
I looked at Jet, and then Kill, wondering what I was missing.
“I thought you weren’t signed yet?”
I could see Kill panicking, so I put my hand in his.
“I’m with you, no more running.”
He calmed but didn’t take his hand away. “Well, the show we played the other night...” He stopped, and I realized how hard it was for him to say the words. So, I nodded my head to let him know I understood. “Well, the reason we were playing that venue is because D got a call from one of the contacts he made while we were on tour. They wanted to see us perform a show, and if the outcome came out the way they wanted. They were going to offer us a deal.”
“That’s why D's being such a dick,” Jet said, popping a gummy bear in his mouth.
“He’ll get over it as soon as he hears from them," I said, easing some of the tension in the room. "So, what’s up with Bently?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
Amy stuck her finger down her throat, pretending to gag on it. Jet looked at her, momentarily distracted.
“That was hot, Candy.”
I giggled, but when they started kissing, I kicked them with my good foot, telling them to knock it off.
“He met her at one of our shows, and they’ve been attached ever since. She has no family and dropped out before graduating high school. We tried to tell him she was just using him because of where he's going,” Kill explained. He stared at Amy and Jet, making sure they didn’t start going at it again.
“What did he say?” I asked, confused as to why Van would fall for someone like her.
“He said he liked her, because he knew who she was. There were no false pretenses, and he always knew where he stood with her.”
I mentally cussed Jessie out for screwing him up so badly. He would accept a fame-hungry whore, because there was no way he could lose his heart to her.
“That's awful,” I said, even more pissed off at my former best friend.
“I know. We tried to talk him out of it, but he's dead set on being with her, and there's nothing we could do to sway him."
My stomach growled, and everyone laughed.
“Hungry, Slick?” Kill asked.
“Starving,” I replied.
“Let’s go out and get something to eat. Let’s celebrate,” Jet said.
“I need to get my stuff out of the car,” I said.
“My car!” Kill exclaimed.
He kissed me on the cheek and ran out to reunite with his sex on wheels.
“Oh, and don’t mind the dent in the back, Killer.”
He turned to me, trying to assess whether I was telling the truth. I kept my face stoic, and he ran out, his feet banging down the stairs. I kicked Jet and Amy out so I could get dressed. After fighting to get my pants back on, Van came in with some of my stuff.
“You're pure evil, Faith." He chuckled “He's looking over the whole car to make sure it's still intact.”
We laughed as he left the room. I was struggling to put my shoe on when Kill walke
d back in.
“You going to help me?” I huffed.
“Yep, but I wanted to enjoy the view." He kissed me on the lips, before helping me put my shoe on. "Wait, you're missing something."
I looked down to make sure I had everything crucial covered. "What?"
Kill reached into his pocket and pulled out my necklace and ring. Tears rushed to my eyes when he secured the clasp around my neck. More tears ran down my face when he slipped the ring on my finger.
"No more taking this off."
"Okay," I said, wiping my face.
"Much better," he said after surveying me.
I kissed him deeply, but pulled back before we got too far into it. "Are we going to Ray's?"
"Yeah, Ryan would beat me if I didn't bring you over to see her."
"Good. I need to see if I can get my job back."
"No, you don't."
"Why not? I'm not going to sit around all day, and you know how I feel about you taking care of me."
"You don't need to get your job back, because you're going to do what you love to do."
“Killer, we can’t have sex all the time.”
He let out a loud belly laugh. “As much as I like you went there first, sex wasn’t what I was talking about. I meant that you can write the next great American novel. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy writing.”
I paused and thought about what he said...and he was right. When I lost myself in my writing, I felt like I was doing what I was born to do.
“You're right.”
“I’m always right, Slick. We'll hang around the house and work together on our crafts."
Hanging around the house working on Hope and Skull's story while Kill wrote his songs next to me sounded like heaven. We’d have the time to work out our relationship problems, making us stronger.
Soon after, we drove over to Ray’s. When I shuffled through the door, Catcher picked me up, hugging me fiercely. My crutches clattered to the ground. Ryan screamed at me to bring my broken ass over to her. Kill helped me get situated with my crutches before Ryan crashed into me.
“I'm so glad you're back, chickie. This boy has been moping around like someone kicked his puppy.”
Kill was staring down at me, not caring he’d been busted about moping around.
“I love you, Killer.”
"Love you too." He leaned in to kiss me, but stopped when his phone rang.
“Hey, D. Where are you? Come over to Ray’s. We're just about to eat.”
“Okay, see you when you get here.”
We sat at the boys' table, and I was struck again by how perfect it all felt. While we were ordering, D ran into the bar his face split by a smile. He didn't stop running until he stood in front of the table. He was panting as he tried to speak.
"Take it easy," Kill said, getting up to stand next to him.
"Calm down?! Calm down?! How can I calm down? We just got signed," D screamed.
"What?" the boys screamed in unison.
"Pack your bags, bitches. We're going to LA."
From the Author:
I hope you enjoyed the second part of the JackholeS Series. I would love to hear from you. You can follow me on,
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Also by Joy Eileen
TRANSPARENT
Morley Rivers lived a quiet life until she brought home a portrait of a hottie from the 19th century.
Alexander Brynes had been cursed when his plea to a gypsy went horribly wrong. He was tethered to his portrait, unable to communicate with the people around him, until Morley came along.
Alexander is positive Morley is the key to break his curse. He wasn't expecting her to break into his heart.
As the curse starts to crack Alexander sheds his invisible state while making his true feelings known.
If they succeed in breaking the spell, Alexander will be sent back to his time on Halloween allowing him to repair the damage his disappearance caused, but at the same time leaving a broken heart in his wake
Chapter One
"Morley! Morley Rivers! Wait for me!"
Shit, I was stuck. Escape was futile. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Mrs. Crabington march toward me. One of her pudgy arms stuck out, showing her intended destination, all the while tugging her flowered muumuu tightly to her ginormous breasts. The bottom part of her arm swung wildly with every step. Her ample body was on a mission to make it to me before I disappeared into my home.
I straightened up from the trunk of my Mustang, trapped with no means of escape. I contemplated throwing myself on the ground and faking a seizure, but that seemed a little extreme. Mrs. Crabington finally reached me. Her brown eyes pinched together as she inhaled deeply trying to catch her breath.
"Hi, Mrs. Crabington. What can I help you with?"
I already knew what her answer was going to be. She had been harassing me for months now. I'd become an expert in avoiding her most of the time. I would have been free from her wrath for another day, if it wasn't for the sexy man residing in my trunk slowing me down. My stomach fluttered as I envisioned the gray eyes of one of the hottest men I've ever seen. I shook off the visual and focused instead on the bead of sweat trickling down Mrs. Crabington's nose.
"Morley, we have talked about that abomination of a door. You need to paint it. The home owners association specifically states...blah, blah, blah."
My ears shut off as soon as she started to recite the HOA handbook. She had been hounding me about the color of my door as soon as the red paint dried. Her face when she banged on my freshly coated door was close to matching the offending color.
Thankfully, my sunglasses hid my eyes as they completed a full eye-roll. My realtor was on my shitlist and with every word leaving Mrs. Crabington's spittle-filled mouth, she rose higher in its ranking. At no point did she disclose I was moving in next to the neighborhood busy-body who was so bored out of her mind she would nitpick the neighborhood just for something to do.
As my eyes attempted to roll all the way back in my head I noticed Mrs. Crabington's mouth was now shut in a firm frown, complete with white foam at each corner. She seemed to be waiting for me to respond.
"I understand the guidelines, Mrs. Crabington. You have been very generous in your knowledge on the subject. As I have told you, I've put in a request with the association and until I hear from them, I will not be painting my door."
"I do not like your attitude. No wonder you haven't got a man. I'll be calling the association tonight." She swung her body around and stormed off.
My eyes were glued to her back as her rolls undulated, making the flowers on her dress look like they were swaying in the wind. Pulling my eyes away from the spectacle that was Mrs. Crabington's back fat, I set my sights on the hunk in my trunk. Well if he wasn't wrapped in bubble wrap and parchment I would be viewing the hottie from 19th century London, but I have a good memory and his face will forever be seared into my brain.
I procured my old world hotness from Art. A prestigious gallery in New York city and my second home. I started working there before the ink was dry on my art history diploma. Mr. Dagman, my boss, took a liking to me when my class visited his gallery. He said I had the eye for the spectacular and called me the night before I graduated and offered me a job.
Mr. Dagman's was the closest thing to a parent I had and I loved him dearly. His flare for jeweled colored scarves offset his graying hair and he was known in the community as a silver fox. Even in his sixties he was in better shape than I was and he used it to have a different boy toy on his arm at every gallery show.
T
he gallery just received a generous donation from an estate in London. After unwrapping Art's new treasures I locked eyes on a portrait of a 19th century lord. It felt otherworldly as I knelt down to study him. He wore a dark suit and sat with a haughty air of self-importance. His confidence was alluring but it was his face that drew me to him. I experienced an odd connection to him, almost as if I had met him before. His gray eyes made me feel like he could see into my soul. His square jaw was cut to perfection while his dark brown hair was combed with a look of quickness.
Mr. Dagman noticed me studying the painting and told me to take it home. The portrait wasn't valuable like the rest of the shipment and he said he would just put it in a storage unit if he kept it. He wouldn't let me argue with him as I refused to take the painting. A shiver ran up my spine when Mr. Dagman handed me the neatly wrapped package dubbing him my new boyfriend and sent me home.
Carefully, I pulled the portrait out of my car ensuring it didn't bang against anything. I made a mental note to call the dealership noticing the trunk was ice cold and figured there must be something wrong with my air conditioning.
My legs burned as I carried the package into my house and set it gently against my couch. The frame came up to my waist and I'm certain it weighed as much as I did, which isn't saying much since I weigh-in at a whopping 102 pounds.
In college the girls in my dorm would complain as I scarfed down a whole pizza and didn't gain an ounce. They always told me how lucky I was to have such a petite figure, but like everyone I wanted to graze the pasture on the other side. I was jealous of their boobs, ones that could fit in bras larger than training size, or they could lift things without having to ask for help and be the helpless female. Oh well, you use what you got.
I kicked off my red stilettos as I made my way upstairs. My house was my pride and joy, well besides my Mustang of course. It was my oasis, every detail was handpicked by me. From the red accent walls to the snuggly black suede couch in the living room. I loved every square inch of it. The only downfall was it got lonely some nights living by myself.
