by Madison Faye
“My credits were earned a long time ago.” Knox walked over to the window and looked out, leaving me staring at his broad shoulders and strong posture that only made me crave to be in his arms once again. “I’m here by choice. It’s what I do. Who I am.”
“A sadist?” I was being far more daring and bold than I would have ever done before, but I couldn’t earn my five credits and never see this man again. I had to fight. I had to do something. I could see Knox slipping between my fingers if I didn’t do everything I could to stay.
“A monster,” he answered.
“You wanted to stay. So why is it so hard to believe that I want to stay as well? Oz wants me to stay in hiding. Why can’t I stay hidden here with you? With you to watch over me.”
“You don’t know me,” he said, still staring out the window.
“But I want to,” I countered. “There is so much I don’t know about you, but I do know that there is some sort of connection between us. There is something deep inside of us that deserves exploring. Yes, you awoke sexual desires I never knew before, but I know there is more than that. Tell me that I am wrong. Am I nothing more than just a woman who is paying her penance to you? Have I misread you completely?”
“I don’t know you,” he said as he turned to face me. “Not beyond these walls.”
“You know more about me than anyone ever has before. The real me. You have stripped me naked from the inside out. You said I was yours. I am! I truly am.”
“Esme, you have five more credits left.”
“No!” I screamed. “I won’t earn them. I won’t. I will fight you every step of the way. You can do whatever you want, but I won’t earn them.” I stood up and charged toward him. I was completely out of control, but the thought of being forced to leave was far worse than the thought of staying and whatever discipline he would issue for my outburst.
Knox met my charge and took hold of my shoulders to stop me. He then grabbed my neck and squeezed. “Do you have a death wish?” he asked.
“What do I really have waiting for me if I earn my credits and have to leave you? I am still under Oz’s thumb. Yes, alive. But that’s it. You stayed. Why? Why can you stay but I can’t?”
He squeezed my neck some more. He applied just enough pressure with his fingertips to make breathing difficult and to show me he was the one in control and not me. “Because this is who I am. I am a monster. It fit me, and the minute I realized that fact, I chose to stay and work for Oz in this capacity rather than being a hitman like I was before. I was done killing.”
“And this fits me,” I said with strangled breath. “You said yourself. You may be a natural monster, but I now see that I am a natural prey.” His hold on my neck loosened. “I was just a bookkeeper. No connection with my family. No real friends. A near hermit. Working for Oz and knowing I was breaking the law was the only excitement or spark I had in my life. Until you. Until you set me aflame with the things you did to my body. I felt alive while here. I don’t want to go back to death. And that was exactly what my life was before you. Death. So please, Knox. Keep me alive. Don’t allow me to die.”
His hand on my neck moved, and he once again grabbed a fistful of my hair. I hissed as the sting intensified, but as I was about to beg for more, Knox brought his lips down upon mine. Passion erupted as he pressed his tongue inside my mouth and danced it within. A kiss from my captor. His breath merged with mine as our bodies pressed together and our kiss intensified.
“You don’t want this,” he said between his claiming of my mouth.
“I do.” I held onto his shoulders hoping to never let go. I hoped desperately Knox would not force me to let go of the only thing—the only person—I wanted.
Breaking the kiss but still holding me close, he said, “You have five credits to still earn.”
Fresh tears built and clouded my vision as I stared into his stern expression. Feeling defeated, I shook my head as I looked at my bare feet and whispered, “No. Please.”
Knox tilted my chin to make me look up at him and kissed me again softly but then nipped at my lip. “But these last five credits are going to take a long, long, long time to earn. Possibly an eternity.”
I looked up into his eyes feeling hope again but weary it would be crushed any moment. “Does this mean I can stay?”
“You have penance to pay,” he said as he brought his lips to mine again. He then swooped me into his arms like the first time we connected and carried me to the bed. “And I have decided—as your Monster of Mercy—that your penance for your crimes is me. I will inform Oz tomorrow that you have been a bad, bad girl and your penance is far from over. You have a lot of learning and paying to still do.”
I looped my arms around his neck, nuzzled my head into his shoulder, and sighed as a wave of euphoria washed over me.
Feeling as if I was almost dreaming and Knox hadn’t actually said the words I so desperately had wanted to hear, I pulled back and looked into his eyes as we neared the bed. “And I will pay my penance like a good little girl, Daddy.”
“Yes, you will, shattered sparrow. Yes, you will.”
The End
About Alta Hensley
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Dueling Daddies by Lee Savino
Chapter One
Two daddies are better than one…
“And that is why I’m never, ever sleeping with a guy again,” I announce and set my glass very carefully back on the bar, which is blurry and not quite level. I frown. The bar was level when I came in.
“Never?” The bartender leans close. He’s a surfer dude with tanned skin, shoulder-length blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes.
Shame I’m no longer dating.
“Never ever,” I confirm.
“Too bad,” a voice rumbles high above my head.
I look up. And up. And up some more. Towering over me is the biggest guy I’ve ever seen, complete with muscle shirt stretched over impressive pecs. I couldn’t fit both hands around one of his taut biceps.
“Whoa,” I breathe. I look back and forth between him and the hot bartender. One looks like a swimsuit model and the other belongs on the cover of a weightlifting men’s magazine. Why the heck couldn’t they have shown up an hour earlier? Before I swore off men forever.
“A bottle of water for the lady,” the newcomer rumbles.
“You’re tall,” I tell him.
He arches an eyebrow at me. I take a moment to marvel at his perfect lips and jawline.
“You are also…” I think for a moment, “very large.”
His face splits into a grin.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” I raise a finger to make my point, “sleeping with guys is overrated.”
“Sounds like you haven’t been with the right guy,” Hottie Bartender says. He and Mr. Men’s Magazine exchange glances.
“Nope,” I announce cheerfully. “But it’s okay. I’m getting a vibrator. A big one.” I set my hands apart to show the length. “Battery-operated boyfriend. B-O-B. Big… Bob.”
“You think Bob will do the job?” the bartender asks.
I nod vigorously.
He leans closer, blue eyes flashing mischief. “You should come back and give me a full report.”
“Why?” I cock my head. “Are you shopping for one?”
The bartender turns his head to hide his laugh. “This is better than television,” he says to the newcomer, who agrees.
I rest my hands on the bar, warm all over from the praise.
The bartender hands a bottle of water to the big guy, who opens it and offers it to me. Big guy is still grinning. I can ju
st hear him thinking how cute I am. His eyes amble over me as I gulp down some water, and I almost choke.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rumbling against my ear. Shiver. His biceps are practically the size of my head. I imagine us horizontal, me sliding up the hard plane of his body, my softness molding to his muscles.
No. Nope. Not happening.
“My vow will not be broken!” I try to slam my hand down on the bar. Something sloshes over my hand. I stare at the now half empty water bottle that I forgot I was holding. “Oops.”
“No worries.” Hottie Bartender mops up with a towel and the big guy leans in close.
“Why not, baby?”
Baby. I like that. What was I saying again?
“They suck. They want you to suck. But they never give you an—” I hiccup, “—anything in return.”
The newcomer absorbs this. “The right guy does.”
The bartender nods.
“In fact,” the big guy continues, “the right guy makes sure the lady comes first, second, and third.”
My mouth drops open.
“It’s true,” the bartender says with a twinkle in his baby blues.
“That’s impossible,” I breathe.
“You’ve never come multiple times?”
“I’ve never come with a guy before.”
“What?” The bartender stares at me.
The big guy swivels on the stool and gets in my space, leaning over me, intent. “Is that true, baby? Never?”
“Never ever.” I hold his gaze for a moment. There’s something I’m forgetting. I wrinkle my forehead, trying to remember. “What’s your name?” I ask the big guy.
“Bear.”
“Bear,” I repeat. “Teddy Bear?”
“No, just Bear.”
“As in, he’s ‘big as a bear,’” the bartender puts in.
“Well, that’s legit,” I say.
This time the bartender doesn’t bother to hide his laugh. “Evie, where have you been all my life?” Did I tell him my name? Guess so. I cock my head to the side as he reaches over the bar and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. His blond locks are long enough, I can do the same to him. So I do. He shakes his head, chuckling.
“Tomorrow night you drink free.” He winks at me.
“Oh, I don’t do this a lot,” I blurt. Is he flirting with me? I don’t quite know what to say. “I just had a bad day, and needed a break.”
“Maybe you need to work out some tension.” He grins, and my insides curl. Damn, he is flirting. Normally I’d blush, make my excuses and hide, but no longer. I’ve sworn off men forever. I no longer care.
“What do you suggest?” I toy with my hair. Pretty and coy, that’s me.
“I can think of something,” the bartender starts when Bear clears his throat. The big guy has been watching us closely.
“Not tonight,” he says, fixing me with a somewhat stern look.
“Aww,” I pout.
“Not tonight,” the bartender confirms. “But later. Would you be up for a little game?”
“Sure.” My voice sounds breathy. “I like games.”
“Good.” The bartender glances at Bear, who’s frowning. “What?” he says to his customer. “She’s perfect.” I get a little thrill, and he turns back to me. “One of us will call you.” One of us? What’s up with that? Is this some sort of tag team?
“Okie-dokie. I should go.” I hop off the barstool and wait a moment for the room to stop spinning before fumbling for my wallet.
Big Bear’s large hands come to my sides and steady me.
“I got it,” he says and nods at the bartender, who nods back. “And I’m calling you a taxi.”
“Oh, no need, I can Uber,” I hiccup.
“A taxi,” he rumbles and turns to the bartender. “Call Max.” The blond nods and heads for the phone.
“Who’s Max?” I ask. I wish I could remember the thing I’m supposed to remember.
“A taxi driver I trust. And when you’re home, you need to drink more water before you go to bed.”
I attempt to roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad. You gonna come tuck me in?”
“Not this time.”
Cue my blush, spreading over my chest, advancing up my neck.
I reach the door and turn, swaying on my feet. Bear looms over me. Beyond him, the bartender gives me a wave. I return it. Two hotties in one night. Shame I made a vow.
“Do you have someone who knows you’re here?” Bear asks. “Someone you can call when you get home?”
“Uhhh… no.”
“Give me your cell.” His hand dwarfs my phone. He finishes programming his number in as the taxi drives up. “There. Text me when you get home.” He walks me to the cab and opens my door. “Make sure she gets inside,” he instructs Max.
“Sure thing, Bear.” A pause, and I realize Bear is handing Max a few bills.
I roll down the window. Rain mists over my face, waking me up a little. The thing I’m supposed to remember nags from the back of my brain.
Bear finishes paying for my ride and leans over me.
“Remember to text,” he orders. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You will? Why?”
He cocks his head to the side. “To check on you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
My thoughts tug and shout at me, but I don’t understand. “Uh… thanks.”
“No problem, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
* * *
At 10:15 on a Tuesday, the mall parking lot is nearly empty. Which is good, because it means there aren’t many witnesses to my pre-shopping panic attack.
This always happens. The shaking, the cold sweats. I sit in the car, wishing I could just leave. My hangover isn’t helping. I don’t know if the sick feeling in my stomach is from legit queasiness or dread.
My phone lights up with the Darth Vader theme from Star Wars.
“Perfect,” I mutter and answer, “Hey, Auntie Jen.”
“Evangeline,” she trills and I wince at the sound of my full name. “Have you got a dress?”
“Was just going shopping now.”
“Wonderful!” I hold the phone away from my ear as she prattles at full volume and speed. “Remember, something in black. Black is perfect for you—it’s slimming. Of course, you know that.” She fake laughs. “I know the family expected you to be a bridesmaid but the floral pattern in cream…well, you know. Patterns aren’t very flattering on someone even a little overweight. And cameras add ten pounds.”
“Yeah, Auntie Jen, I get it.” I’m a fatty. Not the first time she’s pointed this out.
“It’s just too bad the diet I told you about didn’t go well. Genevieve would’ve loved to have you in the wedding party.”
My cousin Genevieve, the family darling. We were born on the same day but couldn’t be more opposite. She’s perfect. Beauty queen. Homecoming queen. Now she’ll be the first of us to get married. Of course, all my other cousins are younger and boys, but it makes my failure all the more obvious.
It’s not a competition, but it is.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find a dress. If anyone wonders why I’m wearing black to a wedding, I’ll tell them floral prints make me look like a couch.”
“Oh, Evangeline, you’re so funny.” Another fake laugh. Or maybe it’s a real laugh. It sounds super fake. “Remember, black is your color. Bye now.”
She hangs up and I get out of the car, slamming the door. How did my cousin get all the grace, poise, and beauty in our generation, plus a metabolism that could burn through a brick wall? It wouldn’t be so bad if Auntie Jen didn’t consider cellulite worse than a criminal record. It doesn’t matter that I’m generally a decent person. As soon as I outgrew a size four, I was officially the family’s black sheep.
At least black is slimming. Do black sheep look less fat than white ones? Are sheep even fat? Or do they just look that way because of their wool?
I stomp into the giant department store entrance, already wishing I could skip shopping and head straight to the frozen yogurt shop.
“Can I help you?” A saleswoman leaps on me.
“Just looking.” I continue ripping through the hanging dresses and the lady retreats from my scowl. After a few minutes, I find two appropriate dresses—black—and ready myself for the dreaded dressing room. Mirrors are never my friend, but dressing room mirrors are the worst. I swear they’re all warped in a way that adds inches to my hips. They’ve never failed to leave me disappointed in myself. I end up vowing to go on a crazy diet, which leaves me racked with hunger pains until I rip into a Haagen Dazs while ugly crying. Which gives me more reason to hate myself.
And now I’m tearing up in a department store. Pathetic.
My phone rings again and I get a flash of relief at the generic ringtone. Talk about saved by the bell.
The name on the screen isn’t familiar, but my neurons stir at the sight: Bear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.” Deep, rumbly voice, almost a purr. Oh, yeah, the memory is coming back. Me, a bar, too much tequila, a guy with biceps big enough to be seen from space.
“Bear?” I croak.
“Yeah, baby. You okay?”
“Um… yes?”
“You didn’t call.”
“Sorry, I… fell asleep. But I did drink water!” I crow. For some reason, I want him to know I obeyed.
“Good girl.” His approval warms me all over.
“Thanks for… taking care of me.”
“No problem.”
“Can I just say… I’m never like that. I never get drunk like that in public.”
“It’s okay, baby. No harm in letting go once in a while.”
“It was more than that,” I blurt. “I was having a bad day. My cousin is getting married, and I’m happy for her, but she’s winning at life and I’m not.” As I talk, I cover my face with my free hand. My blush is creeping up from my neck, spreading like a stain. I need to stop. But something about this guy just makes me want to share.
