He guides his hands up her body again, stopping at her arms.
“Give me your hands. Take my grip, and go as fast and hard as you want. I'm going to do the same, and I'm not stopping. Try to keep up with me, beautiful.”
Her fingers wind around his. Twined together, the bed springs snap loudly, picking up their protests as his thrusts shift into a higher gear, power fucking her with forceful leverage.
Sadie's knuckles go white. She wonders if she'll break her fingers grabbing him so tight, unable to stop the way her own hips have gone into overdrive, matching his mad waves.
Orgasm explodes like a bomb going off. The luscious shrapnel hurls through her system; all furious, unstopping pleasure, hotter and brighter than it ever was before.
Her hearing is the first to fade before everything goes white. Time seems to stop, frozen on a lightning strike that lights up the sky.
There's nothing but distant rain, squealing springs, and her lover's guttural burst of satisfaction. She feels his release inside her, like a river made of molten steel, spraying deep into the furnace dedicated to him for the next nine months.
Brax's face contorts as he spills himself inside her. Deep in his own rapture, he can't be bothered to calm the insatiable succubus on top of him, slamming her hips like a beautiful demon.
Their mutual climax seems to last an eternity. Thunder roils the atmosphere again, and then the fire lessens, pulling back as though it's being smoldered by the rain.
Sadie collapses, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He's panting too, filling tortured lungs with much needed oxygen after scorching every nerve in his body.
“Hell of a way to celebrate,” he whispers into the darkness.
She whimpers and kisses him lightly, all she can do to combat the lingering bliss holding her in its grip.
The long day full of surprises has left them tired. Brax spoons her, drifting to sleep quickly after stroking her sides, lulled by the drawn out storm.
Deep in her dreams, Sadie is in a little boat on a lazy pond. Mist rises off the early morning waters.
In that serene place, she's happy and peaceful, whole as never before. Until the mist thickens, rising up to surround her in its long, spider web vapors.
Overhead, lightning pikes through the darkening clouds. There's a distant howling sound like wolves on the hunt.
The boat begins to rock from side to side, gently at first, but picking up a frantic energy that will capsize and toss her to the famished depths. Back in the bedroom, she grips Brax's sleeping biceps, hugging onto him to keep from drowning.
But his body alone can't comfort her this time.
The boat tips, hurling her beneath the angry waves.
She's drifting into the icy abyss, breathless and kicking. At last, when the purifying waters have filled her lungs, she stops fighting.
Deep in the dark depths, Sadie remembers.
VI: Old Demons
“You've screwed me for the last time, bitch.” The tall man leans over her in the dingy basement, his silver earring sparkling brighter than everything else.
“It was an accident. The cops in that park were everywhere. If I hadn't thrown that shit in the lake, they would've found it. They would've found me, and maybe they would've done something worse than just finding...”
“Yeah? And what about my money? You think I let you stay here just to satisfy Mom's ghost?”
Her hands grip the base of the rickety metal chair. There's still enough space between them to stand, but his brutal glare keeps her down. If feels like her half-brother has bound her to the metal with invisible handcuffs.
“No, Eric. I know what I'm here for.”
“That's right. You work for me. You're my bitch, little Sis. Now, are you gonna listen to what I say, or will I have to show you the back of my hand again?”
She shudders. It wouldn't be the first time he's slapped her, but resorting to physical intimidation is rare.
With his ice cold eyes, scarred cheek, and devilish crop of spiky hair, Eric thrives on psychological terror. Sadie flinches and gasps when his hands shoot out, landing on her shoulders.
He digs his fingers into her painfully. They're face to face at last, exactly what she fears most.
She can smell lemon and vodka on his breath, remnants of a sour cocktail she thinks he uses to remind himself he's still human. Barely.
“Get it through your puny little head, girl. If you don't do this, you could ruin our business. I've put my ass on the line for you so many times...meeting armed thugs, hiding from pigs, taking care of your miserable fucking problems when you're too sick to work.”
“No. I'm not a whore, Eric.” Something deep within her steels itself.
He cocks his head, surprised by the uncanny resistance in her eyes. Maybe asking her to do more than run drugs and cook crank has awakened something new.
But Eric Derby won't be daunted. Smiling like a piranha, he flashes the big gaps in his teeth. Only a few of them are paved over with tombstone silver slabs.
“And I'm not a pimp. You're not doing this to make money off your pussy. You're doing it to apologize, bitch. You were the one who fucked this deal up by throwing his shipment in the lake, and now you're going to fix it in the only payment he'll accept.”
Okay. Just breathe. He has no power over you – not when it comes to this.
“I don't care. I'm not going to do it. You can get up there and suck his grimy dick yourself. You've never given me anything except for that shitty bedroom and some dinners. I haven't made anything putting my life on the line.”
Eric's face shifts like an angry reptile. One hand leaps off her shoulder, rounding the air and landing straight on her cheek.
The blow is deafening. Her inner ear rings loudly before she even feels the pain.
Having her hearing so unbalanced causes her knees to buckle. She tips to the side and falls to the ground, faster than he can catch her.
The musty cement floor reeks of plastic, old cigarette ash, and angry spirits. It's the smell of the father who got his son into crime – the scent of a step-father who cast his predatory eyes on her too many times, making her fear he would come to her late one night and do the unspeakable.
Until he dropped dead of a heart attack, that is. But his death brought no safety. Not when Eric had the run of the house, a crueler and more successful shark than his creator.
The basement echoes with his cruel laughter. Eric shifts the chair aside until he's standing over her, arms folded, leering at the helpless creature he's cursed to share a dead mother with.
“Come on, bitch. Off your feet. I'll take you upstairs to meet Mackey. You don't have nothing to worry about. That fat fuck will blow his load in a minute tops. Just ride him for a little while, suck him deep, and all will be well.”
He extends his hand, fingers sharp like talons.
The ringing inside her head has stopped. Sadie reaches one hand halfway up to his and stops.
Demon, you've tormented me for too long. I'm not your bitch anymore.
Screaming, she grabs his hand and kicks her legs, as hard as she can into his shins. He yells painfully, crumpling to the floor.
She's up, a fight-or-flight routine she didn't know she had commandeers her nerves. Just as she's almost to the stairs, his hand shoots out, dragging her backward.
“You nasty fucking bitch! I'll sell you to that bastard for good! But not before I break every bone in your face. This is how you repay me?”
“No!” Kicking her legs, she strains herself to reach. She grips one of the old cement stairs, praying the horrible stranger upstairs doesn't hear the commotion and come to see what's happening.
I have to end this quick. I'd rather die than go up there with Eric this mad.
She sees the old pipe propped up against the wall, just a few inches from her grasp. Gathering all her energy, she kicks with both legs, dangerously close to his chin.
It's enough to break his grip for little more than a second. The cold s
teel is in her hands when she feels him pin both her ankles again, twisting her jeans violently in his paws.
“Fuck you!”
There's a flash of shocked terror on his face before the ten pound rod slams into his temple. His fingers tighten inhumanly on her legs for an instant, and then go slack.
He collapses and goes silent as she stands. Sadie's heart jumps into her throat.
Blood pours all across his face, working its way to the indifferent floor. She backs mindlessly toward the stairs, watching his body seize up and thrash several times.
He jerks – one, two, three times. And then there's nothing but deadly stillness, his back moving so shallowly that she isn't sure if he's breathing at all.
“Oh my God. What have I done?”
I have to get out of here. I have to get in the car and drive, far away from this place, all the way to the sea.
She reaches cautiously into his pocket. The skimpy wallet he carries has enough cash to get her at least a hundred miles away. The car keys she finds buried a little deeper will do the rest.
Walking upstairs, she feels like a prisoner coming face to face with his execution chamber. Loud death metal blares just behind the old wooden door sealing off the basement from the rest of the house.
Deep breath. Get past this asshole and you'll be out of here.
Part of her wants to run back down and grab the pipe for protection. But if the thug sees it tight in her hands, dripping with blood, he could pull a knife or gun. Anything to keep her from getting the hell away from this house forever.
She holds the air in her lungs until they're burning. Slowly, she tightens her grip on the doorknob, stuffing her brother's wallet and keys into her jeans.
The fat man is in the living room, watching a rock video that looks more like a scene from hell on the big screen television. He turns around when he hears her pass into the room.
“Hey, girl! Guess old Eric sent you up here to see to my needs, huh?”
It sickens her to smile so sweetly. She presses her back to the wall, halfway to the door leading into the garage.
“You got it. It's been a long time for me...I'm lucky to have a big man like you. Please be gentle.”
“Bitch, please.” The fat man stands, grabbing his crotch beneath his flab. “When you feel all nine inches of this slip into your guts, you'll scream. I'm gonna tear you up good.”
“Not without a condom, you don't! Eric told me I could go the store...if you want this, we have to play safe. Sorry. Brother's rules.”
His face darkens. The thug flexes his plump arms, so large and slack that she can't even make out what the tattoo script on him is supposed to say.
“Alright. But you better be back in twenty minutes. This old boy is getting god damn impatient. He wants to fuck you to the wall.”
“I can't wait.”
Sadie's voice hitches a little too sarcastically. The thug glares as she begins walking to the garage.
For a second, she wonders if he'll follow. But then he turns and flops back onto their sofa, drawn into the hellish bass and evil sounding tongues of his Nordic idols.
The Mazda starts with a sputter. She tries her best to drive normally, holding her nerves to prevent herself from tearing down the driveway.
Last thing I need is to get pulled over by a cop right when I've gotten away from him.
Miles run into hours. The night comes, and still she doesn't stop driving. There's a brief stop for fuel, a sign marking the Minnesota border, and then it's straight into the South Dakota plains.
She's never been across this state line before. The alien landscape looks like it's being swallowed up by clouds darker than night.
Lightning hurls itself across the sky, making the whole world look broken, as if it's coming apart before her eyes. She slows as the rain picks up.
Soon, it's impossible to see with darkness and torrential showers engulfing the small car. But the land is flat and there can't be much traffic in a rural area like this.
“Come on! Don't let me down now. I have to push through, I have to get away from him, even if it takes me halfway around the world. I have to –“
The loudest sound she's ever heard in her life goes off next to her. It's the ear bursting blare of a semi's horn.
She's screaming as the wheel flips in her hands. The car hurls itself to the ground, upsetting everything inside it. She gets a whiff of Eric's leftover ash, hears the glove compartment pop open, and then there's nothing but spinning into the all consuming darkness.
Next thing she knows, it's lighter outside, and a handsome man is pulling her from mangled
wreckage. Every last trace of Eric and her old life has been devoured in the welcoming blackness –
until now.
Sadie jerks awake. Brax sleeps next to her, snoring softly. Normally comforting, his breath now occupies everything, especially with the thunder seemingly gone.
It's still pitch black in the house as she moves carefully from his grip. Her cheeks are salty and wet, stripped of their plush, lustful afterglow by brute memories she's unhappy to welcome back.
She walks slowly into the kitchen, stopping carefully to wash her face. Before leaving the bedroom, she gathered most of her clothes up off the floor.
Jesus. I can't stay here like this.
I need to get my head together. I won't be the same when he wakes up – and I won't let myself see the disappointment in his eyes.
Sadie dresses quickly, grabbing a few spare snack bars from the kitchen. Since he started paying her a regular salary, the money has stacked up nicely. In just a few weeks, she's accumulated several hundred dollars, all carefully stashed in the small black purse at her side.
This should get me somewhere I can rest and think. Maybe I just need time.
I'll tell him everything once I get to a different place. If he doesn't understand, I'll be safe. I won't have to come back and deal with him until the child is born.
Her heart thuds painfully. Knowing she's pregnant by a man who may not want anything to do with her as soon as he finds out what she's done floods her with nauseous regret.
The storm has stopped. The first bluish tincture of daylight is on the horizon as she walks across the property, careful not to step in the huge muddy puddles dotting the landscape.
She hasn't been in the spare garage since reviewing the wreck awhile ago. Luckily, nothing is locked up in the storage buildings.
Brax knows his loyal men would never steal from him, and thieves are unheard of in these areas. She turns on a single light in the spacious workroom and looks for her car.
There's a tractor, several messy toolboxes, and a big heap with an old tarp thrown across it. Bingo.
She closes her eyes and grasps the edges of the cover. It comes off noisily.
Please be fixed. Please be fixed. Please be fixed.
The mantra feels like it's burned into her soul. When she opens her eyes, she whimpers with relief.
Against all odds, Brax's mechanic has resurrected a nearly ruined machine. She pops the door and climbs inside, running her hands across the uneven interior.
It's ugly inside, and not like she remembers. But even with all this work, a familiar scent remains.
God. Eric.
You fucking monster. You're the reason I'm in this mess. I wouldn't have to face running away again and tearing my heart out if it weren't for you...I see my mistake now.
I haven't gone far enough to get away from this.
Another silent prayer wells up inside her as she turns the ignition. The car jerks once, and then it starts normally.
She pulls up and taps the button on the side of the wall to open the big door. The little path leading out onto his property is like a narrow tunnel formed by the high buildings.
But once she's through it, there's nothing between her and the open road.
Sadie weeps bitterly once the dirt road turns into paved highway. Still, she has to keep going, anything to bury all the demons tormenti
ng her forever.
There's a flash of torn plastic off to the side of the road, mingling with bits of broken glass. The illegal substance that used to be inside the fragmented bag has been pulverized into the ground by wind and rain, but it hasn't wiped away everything.
The wretched reminder makes her step on the accelerator, hurling the car faster along its drive to nowhere.
Brax wakes to an empty bed. Setting the alarm was the last thing on his mind last night.
The glow downstairs tells him the power is back on, and he smiles. Perhaps she's gotten up to make some breakfast, or relax on the porch before starting the day. It's surprising that Sadie isn't sleeping in.
Guess I didn't take as much out of her as I thought last night. Well, there's always tomorrow for that.
I never get tired of making her body sing to me.
The strange quiet in the house sets his nerves on edge. The front door is open, with only the screen separating the interior from the fresh air outside.
Standing in his boxers and a shirt, he steps out onto the cool porch. Brax focuses his eyes across the land, knowing something's up, but not knowing what.
Then he catches the black pit in the spare garage, just behind the main barn.
“Hm...it's Pete's day off. That shouldn't be opened up like that.”
He pivots and runs inside, rapidly ascending the stairs to dress. Every breath pumps more energy into his system.
The rancher hopes that it's just a forgetful part of the crew going in there for spare parts. But deep inside, he knows better.
What the hell's happened? Why would she leave?
A short run over to the building confirms his worst fears. The car is gone. And God only knows how long it's been since she left, or how far she's gone.
With urgent anxiety licking his back, he climbs into his truck and tears off into the road. He barely notices the wet tracks left by another vehicle rising from a ditch, leaving its impressions on the lonely unpaved road all the way to the highway.
Navigating the Dakota plains can drive a man mad. The open land draws the truck deeper, so
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