Pieces Of One, Part 2 (The Dark Life Collection)

by Ricketts, SVC

  “How? I never…” My eyes sharply narrow. “Bullshit, I did those things!” A flair of contempt shoots through me.

  “Chillax, stupid,” Marvy says. “Star doesn’t come out, he comes through and only when he’s told.” Star retreats his form a bit more behind Valeria.

  Startled, I jump when Mercy tugs on my hand. “What ‘bout me? What ‘bout me?” the little girl says.

  Taking a knee to meet Mercy’s eyes, I smile at my childhood playmate and rest a hand on her shoulder. “Mercy, you shouldn’t be here. This is grown-up stuff and dangerous.”

  Treating her like a child is a knee-jerk reaction. I have a feeling she could more than manage herself, but still I remember how Mercy and I used to play in the dark corners of my room when the Boogey Man came. A sick feeling clouds over the memory. It’s as strange as it is a happy memory for me. I can’t even call it bittersweet; it’s something else I can’t quite peg. Without a doubt, she has something to do with why I didn’t remember the Rimmels.

  “I know all ‘bout danger. I protected you from it. I always have!” Mercy pushes my hand away, pursing her little lips into a scowl.

  The others give each other culpable looks. Even Valeria stands uncomfortably distant. I wonder how I insulted Mercy with my dejection. She is a child after all with child-like thoughts. Although she’s giving off some major diva vibes with her sulking.

  Baffled by their apprehension, I stand to face them. “What’s she talking about?” A pain begins to pierces my stomach.

  “Trista, we don’t have time for a therapy session right now,” Marvy says softly. “Once we get out of this mess, I’ll explain everything. For now just know you have Star’s brain, Valeria’s strength and my…” her eyes drop, “my skills.”

  My head bobs in agreement. I know I have to maintain control of my body and mind. I’m not, after all, one of the alters. “We need to work together or this will all go to shit. No one shifts, got it? I can’t be in the dark to what’s going on anymore. No more transitions, I need to stay in control. Work through me, like he does.” I point to Star. “Agreed?”

  Marvy snorts, “We’ve sort of already been doing that. Couldn’t you tell?”

  “I figured and I don’t like it. You’re a part of me, but it’s my life you’re messing with. Don’t make things more complicated by showing up uninvited,” I say vehemently.

  “Yeah, I git it. I’m down. Whatcha say Marv? Can ya control yaself?” Valeria cracks and pokes Marvy in the ribs.

  Marvy jolts to the side, but doesn’t respond for a few seconds. She’s had so much freedom over the years; I know she doesn’t like it.

  She does it so fast, I barely catch it, but I catch a visual exchange between her and Mercy. “Fuck. Okay, okay, but you gotta promise to have at least one smoke a day and one Margarita a week. And for fuck’s sake, shave my muff. I hate being so ungroomed.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’ll work on it.” And with that, the collaboration agreement is in place. It’s so out of the ordinary, but for some reason, I’ve never felt more complete. It feels really good—solid and whole. I feel strong, savvy and intense: passion and conviction courses through me.

  A knock at the door wakes me from my negotiation. I’m a frozen prune in the cold, bubble-less tub of water.

  “Everything okay in there?” Bryson asks.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been in the tub, but my fingers look like raisins and are sensitively painful when I rub them together. Shivering, I stand and wrap a towel around myself. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”

  My mind churns over the new collaboration, but one thing sticks in my mind—Mercy’s last words.

  “I always have.”

  A FINE-LOOKING, SEXY back is to me when I walk into the bedroom. Bryson has changed out of his suit and into a molded cobalt blue t-shirt and jeans that do a disservice to his fine ass. My flicker bean vibrates and I curse myself for these resurfacing thoughts. With everything else going on, having a romp fest is the last thing on the docket. Yet I allow my eyes to eat up this figure from leg to square muscular shoulders, visualizing when I was above and below each of those muscles. I lick my lips and turn away before I do something incredibly stupid—like drop my towel. Instead I clear my throat to get his attention.

  Bryson turns spinning my engagement ring around the top of his pinky finger. His clear ice-blue eyes sparkle and he holds up his pinky. “I have an idea.”

  “Great. Tell me later. Get out. I want to take a nap.” Short, unsweet, and to the point. Anything else will either lead to hate filled words or to shoving him on the bed and climbing all over him like some loved starved monkey. Both are dumb and pointless, so the less I say in real sentences, the better.

  Lowering his hand and shoving both in his front pockets, his timid smile completely dissipates and his shoulders cave forward. “Just so you know, I wasn’t completely convinced it wasn’t you till after we…I mean way back when, when she and I first started fooling around...,” he stutters trying to find the words. “You have to understand, I wanted her for the longest time. But afterward, I realized I didn’t anymore. I wanted you.”

  “It’s not the fact that you had sex with her, it’s the fact that you knew it was my body and yet you chose to thrash me. You hurt me!” I blink back the strain in my eyes so my angry tears recess.

  “There’s a difference with what we did. You and I made love, Marvy and I fucked.”

  His crude words make me wince. I’m having difficulties overlooking the fact he knew and still did what he did. In a way, I was incapacitated and he took advantage of it or maybe it was the other way around. It wouldn’t be the first time Marvy took advantage of my absence. Maybe they’re both to blame, but where does that leave me?

  In two long strides, he steps in front of me forcing me to look up, but his hands remain deep in his pockets. Mere inches separate us, and my space is suffused with that Bryson scent. I swear I think I mewed. Having more clothing between us would be a good idea. I shouldn’t be standing this close to him only wrapped in a towel. My body betrays my brain and also jumpstarts my heart.

  He dips his head to catch my fallen eyes. “I really am so very sorry, babe. Can we ever move past this? I lied, you lied, let’s wipe the slate clean. I love you and know how to handle things better now.” He shuffles his feet and pulls out the ring, holding it up to me. “Besides, we’re in this together. We have to convince Andri we’re in love. I know you have feelings for me, but can you pull of at least pretending to love me?”

  The platinum shackle shines bright reflecting the light from the waning day. It’s beauty and his argument sucks the last of my reserves dry.

  “Bryson, this whole thing was set in motion by Marvy and I compounded it by withholding truths from you, but it’s up to me to finish it.”

  I don’t expect his quick intake of air when my hands lay flat at the center of his chest. It makes me flush to know my touch can illicit such a reaction from him. “I honestly don’t know what I feel for you. But I know for a time, you did make me happy and I’ve never felt safer.” My eyes drift softly with a small smile pulling at my lips. “You should know me better by now that I don’t just give myself away. Nothing I’ve done with you has been false. I know I already gave you a piece of my heart,” I whisper. “The question is, do you really love me or was that part of the lie? And how can I trust what you tell me? Maybe you want to be done with me and deliver me to Andrijica.”

  His arm is swift as it wraps around my back and closes the distance between our bodies. I don’t have a second to comprehend his action before he takes my mouth with his. His tongue dives in between my gasp devouring the space and destroying my senses. With one big hand, he captures both the back of my neck and head immobilizing my instinct to back away. Not that I have the right sensibilities to do so even if I wanted to. The world spins and he is the only thing holding me up. He is marking me and I am letting him.

  There’s no light between us, but I can’t get
close enough, wanting to curl up inside him and stay forever. My heart floods with a warm tidal wave and it soaks every part of me. It is so powerful, it comes up through my eyes pushing up as tears. They trickle down my face and I realize I cannot breathe if he is not my air. There is no beat if he is not in my heart. His touch burns and incinerates my skin, but he is also the water that I constantly thirst for. With him, I can fly. He is my present and my eternity. I return his kiss in such a way that tells him all of this and confesses my sins at the same time.

  This time, it’s Bryson that pulls away, desperate for breath. He rakes a hand through my hair and once again, cups the back of my head gently tugging, forcing my eyes to his. “You. Are. Mine,” he growls with absolute precision. The possession in his timber raise the hairs on my arms—and I like it.

  The hand on my back applies pressure and moves south. I suck in a hiss when I feel his fingers slide between my ass cheeks. My back arches and my hips jolt forward as I feel the tip of his finger glide between the sensitive, soaking folds.

  “Feel that?”

  “Yes,” I gravel. Just the tip isn’t enough. With hope he will take the hint, I lift my leg, wrapping it around one of his. That damn partial digit makes another swooping pass from slit to clit. “Bryson, please,” I moan in a drunken voice.

  He still has a hold of my head and tugs my head back. “Open your eyes, Trista. I want to see you.” Another finger joins his middle finger and dives into the pool of my wet lust. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open and they keep fluttering back.

  “This,” he says crooking both fingers, grazing the bud of tender nerves, “is for me and only me. As long as I breathe,” Bryson rumbles in my ear, “you are il mio piccolo tesoro and no one takes what’s mine.”

  Stroke after stroke, he takes me higher and higher. I gasp with each plunge of his fingers and fist his shirt unabashed.

  “Eyes, Trista,” he commands. My body ripples at the sound and I obey, snapping my eyes open. The blue of his glows with my implicit acquiescence.

  Sliding those drenched fingers from my core, he slips them between my butt-cheeks and over the puckered flesh. A long inhale sounds like a call for more as I gasp again. His thumb goes into the tight membrane and the others return to the ache between my legs. With his entire hand, he has become the master of my body through a variation of rubs and caresses.

  Bryson brushes his lips along my cheek and suckles a drop of sweat falling from my temple. He whispers my pet name and continues to divulge his promise, “I’m going to brand myself inside you so even if I am dead, your pussy will mourn for me forever. But more than that, I will mark myself into your soul and forevermore be in your essence. Anyone around you will know you belong to me because you will always smell of me on your skin.”

  My nails dig into his chest and I know there is no way I’m not putting my own crescent marks on him. He is mine as much as I am his. I reach down between us to feel his hardened need for me and give the snake a few pressured strokes. I want that in me. NOW!

  “Put your arms around me and hold on,” he growls.

  I do as he says and he pulls me in tight with the other arm. My foot lifts off the floor and without decreasing the momentum of his fingers in me below, he carries me to the bed. My weight pushes them in deeper causing me to throw my head back. The cry of sheer pleasure is caught in my throat, seeping out in a panting whimper.

  A savage tone warps the word, “No!” when he pulls out of me to lay me down. My little lady-bean is vibrating in his absence. I both hate and love it, but it is an anguish that needs tending to.

  Propping my knees up, I spread my legs and let the cool air lick my center. The vibration is unrelenting so I put my fingers on it and push down. A thousand kilojoules streak up my spine, locking out my joints. “Oh God, yes!” I scream.

  There is a significant difference between a showerhead and my hand. I’ve never pleasured myself this way and I know now what the hell Kitta was talking about. I always thought it was gross to touch yourself down there, but it’s not—it is glorious! Having control over my own body and truly knowing what I like by my own physical articulation is empowering.

  “Fucking hell, Trista. That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he sputters with a faltering voice. I flit my eyes open to see him kneeling between my legs watching with hunger and awe. “Don’t stop. Put your fingers inside yourself. I want you to make yourself cum.”

  As my hand continues its frenetic cadence, I lose myself in it. Two strong, calloused hands spread my knees farther apart. They gently scratch my inner thighs moving toward my hands. Hot breath heats a trail up to my apex and a rough lick unites with my fingers. I want more of him and everything he has to give. Lifting my lower half off the bed, I place my feet on his wide back and raise to my tip-toes.

  His tongue and my fingers copulate inside me, winding the kinetic frenzy tight. When I push my palm down and press my fingers deeper, I hit a spot and explode with both a scream and gush of my fluids into my hand.

  “Oooohhhh, fuuuuck!” My legs straighten with every muscle constricting, and struggle not to crush Bryson’s head between my thighs. I grip his hair with my other hand as I ride out the crashing waves. Bryson doesn’t stop though and continues to dash his tongue in and out of me. He curls the tip, lapping up what is running over my cupped palm as if it is the nectar of life. To quench his thirst, I prolong my orgasm and jolt with every stroke over the generating spot within my walls.

  When it completely dissipates, it takes all my energy with it and I collapse with my legs a dead-weight on Bryson’s back.

  He lifts his head and his face glistens with me, making me laugh. The smile on his face is that of a child who has no skill eating ice cream. Bryson licks his lips and then my fingers when I pull them from me.

  The heat of his body hovers over me as he climbs up the bed, purposely dragging his hardened masterpiece over my center. The musky scent blended with sweat wafts from his lips, the combination is erotic. He dive bombs my mouth allowing me to taste myself and it’s not as offensive as I would have imagined—I taste salty.

  Desire and adoration pour from his eyes when he detaches to steal my gaze. “You are exquisite when you come, Trista.”

  Head-to-toe, I flush with the compliment. Which is crazy since he just had his head between my legs. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Seviride,” I deflect with a shy grin.

  “Are you still willing to be Mrs. Seviride?”

  I drop my head to the side and stare out the window. “That’s not fair, I have post-copulation brain. You can’t ask me difficult questions like that.”

  Moving a finger under my chin, he tips it forcing me to look at him. “Let me prove myself to you. I do love you.” He touches his forehead to mine. “So much that I’m willing to give you up, if you do not after all this is over. You can go back to Rush and your life with no interference from me.”

  The offer and the anguish in his voice while making it, springs tears to my eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face to the side of his. “Oh Bryson, I do love you. I love you so much!” My words feel right and melt my heart. I release his neck and capture his face. “Yes, I will be your Mrs. Seviride!” I race to say and seal my promise with a kiss.

  Tears brim his eyes, but he tries to look away as if ashamed they’re there. I firm my hold on his face allowing me to see his emotion. A man crying in a moment like this is not a cause for shame. It is not a sign of weakness. It is a humble action that demonstrates a man’s character.

  Kissing him again briskly, I whisper against his lips, “Don’t ever repent your happiness around me, Mr. Seviride. You hear me?” I lift my head when he nods. My lips curl up with a burning thought. “Shall we consummate our commitment?” I ask with a wink.

  His brow furrows. “Don’t you need a minute?”

  A wide smile is my response. “Nope,” I say and lift my hips rocking them to reignite his erection.

  “TESORO, THEY LOOK the
same. Please, can we just purchase both?” Bryson grumbles.

  We’ve only been in the little dress shop for ten minutes and this is the first one we’ve stopped at. It’s not like I’m spending an inordinate amount of time browsing like some other girls would.

  I cast him a stern look. “They are so not the same!” I exclaim holding the white dress with roomy sleeves under my neck and inspect my reflection again. The red embroidered flowers circle the hem at the bottom and around my neck. It’s a lovely, but simple dress that falls below my knees. “Look, you’re the one who wanted to come with me. I told you I wouldn’t leave Henn’s side.”

  The fabric of Bryson’s shirt stretches, accentuating the peaks and valleys of his chest when he folds his arms across it. I stifle the grin forming. He knows I like that shit so he’s doing it on purpose.

  He grimaces and rolls his eyes. “We saw how well that worked last time.”

  “Pfft, whatever.” Grabbing the other dress with the red flowers on the sleeves, I head back to the dressing room. “I don’t need both, but I can’t decide which one I like better. I’m going to try them on again.”

  Before I get two more steps in, Bryson puts a hand on my shoulder. “You make these peasant dresses look like designer gowns, Tesoro. Please let me buy them both for you.”

  I crimp my lips, but hand them over. “You know, flattery won’t always get you what you want, mister.”

  “It will for now and I’ll work it till it doesn’t,” he crows and kisses my cheek.

  My eyes zero in on his butt as he walks to find the shop owner. I blush at my brazen gawking and turn away. “Strattone,” I mutter under my breath through a cheeky smirk.

  His hot breath is at my ear. “I heard that.”

  Damn, if that doesn’t shoot an arrow straight to my bull’s eye. Arrogant ass chuckles when I shudder.

  Nuzzling my ear, he tortures me more. “It’s not nice to call your husband a jerk when all he’s doing is buying you gifts.”