by Law, Adriana
He felt her move next to the bed. Heard a chair angled beside him. Then she was sitting. He could tell by the sound of her voice: where it was coming from and how far away. “Shh, I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have several things here.” He felt a breeze like she was actually holding up what was in her hand. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you can’t see.” Great. She thought this was funny. He heard her cell make a sound. “Did you just take a picture?”
“Okay, you have to guess what I have in my hands. Simple enough?”
“Yeah, but…” he heard her shaking something, then “wissh” something cold hit his stomach and he yelped like a sissy. This was easy. He already knew what it was, and was about to tell her when her tongue warmed where he had been cold. Oh man, he liked this game. “wissh” foam was squirted along his erection, ending with a huge glob on the head. His hips came up off the bed when her mouth worked on cleaning it up. “Mmm, sweet.” The vibration of her Mmm had him feeling like he was already going to have an orgasm, and the game had just gotten started.
“Whip cream. Do I get to do this to you?” he choked out.
“Maybe. Okay. Brace yourself.”
Doing as he was told, he held his breath, tensing every muscle in his body in anticipation. “err!” slipped from his mouth. A shiver ran through his body.
“I warned you to be ready.”
A piece of ice was placed on his balls, shrinking them to high heaven. “Okay. Okay. Enough!” He moaned fighting the restraints for the first time. But like last time, anywhere the ice chips went, her warm tongue followed. Surprisingly, when she got to his nipples, he was really getting into it.
“Ice. I definitely get to do this to you.”
“Patience, honey.”
“Did you just call me honey?”
“Final item. This one’s going to be harder.”
“Do I need to brace myself?”
“Oh no. This one you’re gonna like.”
He felt the faintest, barely there tickle. It circled his nipples, trailed down over his stomach, causing muscles to quiver in its wake. The tickling continued lower, down over his sensitive groin area, along his penis, and it jerked in response. Hell, his whole body jerked in response. She was right about it feeling good, wrong about it being harder to guess. “A feather. That’s all you got, Filly? I can do better.” She removed his blindfold. But not the restraints. He glanced at an arm still tied to the bed post. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Nope. I’m not done with you yet.” She climbed on the bed, straddled his waist, and eased herself down on him, nice and slow. His fingertips traced her spine as she leaned forward placing her warm lips on his. She moved on top of him, and he couldn’t resist bucking his hips. Shit. Sex was amazing. How had he lived without it for so long? More important question… how had he lived without her?
nsations spread throughout his entire body. Pleasure building to point of exploding. He gritted his teeth fighting off a too-early orgasm. He gripped her hip bones, his fingers leaving marks as he helped her hurtle them both toward a mind blowing release. Up. Down. Up. Down. They both shattered at the same time. Megan went limp, her breast crushing into his chest as she collapsed down. Her hands combed through his hair, as she covered his left cheek with thankful kisses murmuring, “That was amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” slipped out of his mouth. And she was. So fucking amazing it frightened the hell out of him.
Her head came up, her hands resting along his jaw as she seeked out his eyes in the dark. She smiled.
He felt like now was the time to say… something, anything. She was expecting it. He could sense it. But he was a reluctant asshole and he said nothing, just tightened his hold on her. Maybe he didn’t have to say it. Maybe she already knew.
“Wait. Did you see that?” The tone of his voice made her freeze. “Hold up. Something’s not right.” He lifted her off him, settled her on the bed and went to the window.
*****
Drew’s naked flesh lit with a strange orange glow. Light danced on the dark walls. His hands fisted on the window sill. Megan slid out of bed, and dressed quickly. An overwhelming nausea hit her hard, call it women’s intuition, or a response to the look of terror displayed on his face as he turned from the window, she knew it was bad. Really bad.
“What is it, Drew? What did you see?”
He tugged up a pair of jeans, not even taking the time to fasten the top button. His bare feet thumped through the old house as he ran, his fist pounding on every bedroom door he passed.
She struggled to keep up. Out of breath. Trembling. “What’s going on. Answer me dammit!”
His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and he choked out, “The barn is on fire!” The screen door slapped the side of the house. And he was gone. Out into the night. Megan stepped out onto the porch and she nearly sank to the ground, and she would have, except the adrenaline kicked in. She gasped, bracing one hand on the house for support, the other hand covering her mouth.
Drew was running full speed across the yard towards the burning barn. Flames licked the eaves, up and out from under the rusted tin roof. The sound of frightened horses, their screams, carried in the night. Without thinking she darted out into the blackness after him, numb to the pain of her bare feet over the dry ground. Twigs snapped, pricking her flesh, but she never flinched. She screamed for Drew to wait. Wait for what? Oh crap. She needed to go back. Call 9-1-1.
But she couldn’t leave him. Everything inside her was telling her not to. She had to be where he was. Had to be.
Glancing back up at the house, she saw the porch light on, Emma outside, phone in hand, pacing. Griffin leaned a shoulder against the lap siding a few feet away from Emma, his expression the same as it had always been, not a care in the world.
The closer Megan got to the fire, the hotter and drier the air was. It smothered her. Closed up her windpipe. Black smoke rolled out through the loft opening, mingled with glowing sparks and ash. Both barn doors were swung wide. She didn’t see Drew anywhere. Please, God, please let him make it out alive. She tried to move closer shielding her face with a hand, but the heat forced her to retreat.
Limber cracked and popped inside. The horses began to emerge, one by one, through the open doors, their hoofs stomping the powdery dust as they reared and bucked, neighing wildly, charging forward, their long body stretched out in midair, their instinct to survive driving them mad.
A small portion of the roof gave way, sinking in the middle like ground giving way during an earthquake. A sob tore from her throat. “Drew! Oh dear God, No!” Then she saw him, his beautiful tan flesh black with soot. He was bent to avoid the hot flames licking along the top of the doorway, a rope in his hands. Angel tugged on the other end of the rope, just as she had that day with Tink. Outside. Out of danger. Drew clicked his tongue, removed the rope, and slapped the quivering muscles along the horse’s rear-end, setting her free.
Tear’s consumed Megan. She ran into Drew, her arms going around his neck, the momentum of the force of her body clashing with his nearly knocking him down. Her lips to his ear, “I thought I’d lost you.”
One of his hands went to the small of her back, pressed her to him. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t cry.”
Then Emma was there. Griffin. Birdie. All three appearing as if they’d run all the way from the house, non-stop. That was pretty major for Birdie. The old woman clutched at her chest. “Drew, he’s in there,” rose over the noise of the fire eating away at what was left of the barn. Birdie’s face was pale. Strands of her gray hair sprung free from the bun on the back of her head. “Tink’s in the barn!”
Drew’s arms fell from around Megan, limp at his sides. Flames were reflected in the dilated pupils of his eyes, his face hard. “No, he’s not! I was just in there!”
Birdie stomped a foot, “I’m sure of it! He goes up in that damn loft. Has a blanket, a picture of Mabel, and a bottle of whiskey up there!”
&nb
sp; At that exact moment, what was left of the burning trusses collapsed, sending glowing embers, smoke and overwhelming heat out in every direction, causing them all to duck.
It took Griffin, Emma, and Megan to hold Drew back, to keep him from running in. He fought, jerking and tugging against their hold. Cussing all of them with everything he had. Megan could feel the muscles along his biceps, flexing under the hands she was using to hold one of his arms. Just one. And it took everything she had. Her and Emma barely could control that one arm. If it hadn’t been for Griffin, Drew would have had his way, went back in on a suicide mission. But the young guy was stronger than Megan had thought he was. Thank God.
“It’s too late,” Megan murmured what no one else was willing to say.
The fight left Drew. He crumbled to his knees, and finally they released him. Only Megan laid a hand on his rounded back, gasping at the burns covering his flesh. A half hour ago, they’d been happy, together, in his bed. Drew’s fingers curled, clawing into the dirt. Megan went down on her knees next him, and saw them then… the tears making a slow path down his soot covered cheek.
Flashing red lights and siren’s filled the long dirt drive, vehicles angled in every direction.
They were too late.
Too late for Tink.
Day Fifteen
“He hasn’t said a word to me since it happened.” Megan pushed the steaming cup of coffee away, unable to stomach anything. It was nice of her mother to put forth the effort to make her feel better. But there was only one person who could do that. Drew. She ached for him so bad she didn’t know what to do with herself. There was no doubt in her mind. Or heart. She loved him. Soul deep.
Lillian sighed. “Maybe it’s time you come home. Give him some space. He’ll come around. Tink meant a lot to him.”
“He meant a lot to all of us.” Megan blew out a breath, willing the tears to not come. She fanned her face with a hand. She’d cried enough over the last two days to leave her lips chapped and her eyes red and puffy.
“Yeah but, I think the old man was the closest thing to a father Drew ever had.” Lillian stared into her coffee.
“Well, I’m not going anywhere until he talks to me.” Megan pushed her chair away from the table, took five steps toward the hallway leading to the den, and the couch, the couch Drew had slept on the last two nights.
“Megan…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Lillian shook her head.
Megan found Drew sitting on the couch, still wearing his black suit from the funeral earlier that morning. His elbows were on his knees, his hands clasped as he focused on the floor. At least he’d taken the time to remove his tie, and undo the top two buttons of his dress shirt. She’d never seen him wear a suit. He was dazzling. So dazzling it took her breath away.
The floor creaked announcing he had company.
His empty dark eyes met hers briefly, and then they were gone. Back to staring at the floor. “Not now, Megan.”
A sharp pain shot through her stomach from him using her real name, instead of the nickname he’d given her that very first day. she refused to listen. Call it stubbornness, or just plain stupid, she went to him. Stretched her fingers towards the curls coming to life near his ear. Those were her favorite. They represented everything… Drew. Her fingers never got there…
“I said, go away!”
“No.”
He stood up, shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his black slacks. Exhaled a long frustrated breath. “Trust me… you don’t want to do this now.”
“Yes, I do. Don’t shut me out.” She swallowed hard, took a step towards him. “I… I love you.”
“Don’t say that!” The cords of muscle along his neck bulged.
“It’s the truth!” She sobbed, taking another step towards him. “I love you. When you hurt…I hurt. Please…I’m begging you…don’t …”
He looked at her then, really looked at her for the first time since the accident. What she saw there nearly caused her to vomit right there on the spot. There was nothing. No emotion. No tenderness. Nothing. The room suddenly felt colder from the chill he was throwing off. He words came out more like a hiss, “That’s just like you... making this all about you. This isn’t about you, Megan,” he paused, “Well, maybe it is. If Stratford and my father hadn’t made that stupid-ass bet… you would never have been here distracting me and Tink might still be alive. All you brought with you was bad luck.”
She stumbled.
“What bet?”
His lips took on the resemblance of a smirk, not a grin, or a smile, something different, in-between smugness, and hatefulness. “Let’s see, you’re stepfather bet I couldn’t screw you, and mine bet I could. My father won that one, hands down, wouldn’t you say?”
*****
After he’d said it, he’d realized what he’d done. He was a bastard. Just like his father. Megan’s face bled, absent of all color, she turned and took off. Down the hallway. Oh hell no, it wasn’t ending like this. He followed her, grabbing for her arm, but she stayed just beyond his reach. He hated his voice held a hint of desperation, “You said you wanted to talk… let’s talk.”
She darted into the infamous bathroom. The bathroom still only partially renovated because of her. “Don’t you come anywhere near me. I hate you!” The door slammed in his face.
“That’s funny… five minutes ago you were saying you love me. Which is it, honey?” He yelled from the other side, jiggling the doorknob. Ah ha! Not locked. “You know if you really didn’t want me to come in, you would have locked….” His words trailed off at the sight of her.
She threw a hand over her mouth, went down on her knees in front of the toilet. He didn’t utter another word as the sounds of her vomiting filled the bathroom. It took everything he had not to go to her, gather her hair, comfort her. But this relationship had been doomed from the start.
He should probably leave. No doubt she would be packing her things. Gone. Gone from his life, like he had wanted from the start. Hell, he should go to. Somewhere far, far away from all the bullshit. Nothing was holding him here anymore. He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. He felt like joining her beside the toilet, suddenly sick to his stomach.
“Be careful you don’t let the shit in.” the last profound thing the old man had said to him.
Megan stood, gathered her hair in a ponytail, and leaned over the sink, splashing cold water on her face and neck. Her blue eyes met his in the mirror. She kept her tone neutral, “You’re a good liar. I fell for it all. The part about you never having had sex with a woman before…”
No. Believe it or not…that part was true.
She shut off the water, dried her hands on a towel, and went to step by him in the doorway. Her hand settled on the patch of skin revealed by his open collar, skin to skin contact. A shudder ran through him, his hands fisted in his pockets. Dammit, he could smell her. Taste her. All he had to do was reach out and touch her. Stroke a thumb across her plump bottom lip. What he wouldn’t give to do that. Wait. That wasn’t exactly true. He wasn’t willing to give his heart.
Her gaze dropped to her fingers still on his chest. Her fingers made the slightest movement. Then her eyes found his again. “Seriously Drew, it was brilliant. Made me believe you actually have a heart.” She leaned in, her warm breath tickled his ear, “I should have listened to my first instincts about you. You’re not worth it.”
He exhaled a long breath and watched her walk away.
Coming soon…
Dead Man’s Bluff
Megan had always assumed he would come after her, when he didn’t, it shattered her heart. It’s been two years. She’s matured, finished getting her degree in fashion & design, found a good, honest, successful man and is engaged. In fact, her life couldn’t be better. Could it? She’s finally stuck to something for longer than a couple of weeks….avoiding calling Drew Mackenzie, a major achievement. And now, finally those urges have subsided. She’s ov
er him. Completely. But life has a wicked sense of humor, and as soon as she decides to be happy with another man and she stops thinking about Drew every second of every day…the devil himself strolls back into her life asking for her help. Her help! He has some nerve. Yeah, she’d like to help him, right after she knees him in the balls.
Drew Mackenzie’s worst nightmare has come true. He has ended up exactly like his father. After he lost the only man he ever admired, and the only woman he ever loved, Drew Mackenzie finds his life spiraling out of control. Lillian has cut all ties with him, for her daughter’s sake, and his father is meaner than ever. Drew’s life is filled with meaningless sex, drugs, and alcohol—memories from his childhood haunt him. He stumbles through the hours that drag on every day with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other. He feels absolutely nothing. He can’t remember the last time he’s had a decent night’s sleep…wait, yes he can, the night he’d made love to Megan for the first time, before the night of the accident. An accident he can’t shake. He lacks closure, and finds himself going to the one person he swore he’d never bother again. Will Megan agree to help him put an end to all his questions? Okay, so she’s moved on, and seems happy…that’s really all he ever wanted for her, but she owes him this closure, since she was the one that messed up his life and his heart in the first place.
