by Amanda Black
Chapter 4
At the very same time, on the outskirts of town, a black Audi A6 with a rental sticker on the trunk pulled into the circle drive of an extremely expensive-looking house. The man behind the wheel turned off the engine and, rather than exit the car immediately as he would normally do, sat there in the dark quiet of the interior with nothing but his own thoughts for company.
He was startled when he realized that for the first time in days—perhaps years, if he was being honest with himself—he had stopped his sullen, self-absorbed moping. Instead, he was focused intently on the strange events from earlier that evening, wondering repeatedly if they had actually happened. Unable to stop himself, he sniffed his fingers for confirmation and groaned, wincing at the instant, painful erection her lingering scent caused.
He knew that he needed to go inside eventually and face them, the collection of strangers that called themselves his family, but he decided that a few more minutes of happy reflection were more than a bit deserved after the hellish week he’d had. He closed his eyes, thrilled at the notion of being able to see something—anything—other than the unpleasant memories that had been haunting him lately.
Now in their place were images of beautiful hazel eyes and full pink lips, and the memory of how she had tasted so fucking sweet. Sighing deeply, he replayed every whimper in his mind, every moan.
He still couldn’t believe how she had appeared out of nowhere, like an angel sent to pull him back from the brink of insanity. She had looked just like that to him, with her lovely soft features and her sweet face full of concern. Nobody had given more than two shits about him for years, and here this precious thing gave up her fucking body just to make him feel better.
And better he felt. Better was a fucking understatement.
He actually felt alive again.
The moment that angelic creature put her arms around him, he’d felt as if someone had flipped a switch inside his brain. She had turned him on again, and in more ways than one. He had felt pure electric pleasure coursing through him when he touched her satin skin. It had been so long since he’d been able to enjoy simply touching someone.
It disturbed him how easily he had forgotten the concept of joy.
He knew there were emotions much more appropriate for his current situation, but he wasn’t about to turn his nose up at the chance to feel good again, even if only for a short while. It was already fading away, but it gave him another feeling he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever: hope. Perhaps if he could feel something as wonderful as pleasure again, everything else wasn’t as far out of reach as he’d first thought.
He let his mind wander, and it immediately snapped back to his brunette mystery. She appeared just as shocked as he was by the connection between them, but she clearly felt it, too. It hadn’t only been him—he knew it just as surely as he knew that she had never even dreamed of doing anything like that before in her life. And she loved it. He knew by how fast she ran off that her mind might not believe it yet, but her body hadn’t lied.
He fondled the old brass key in his pocket, remembering how amazing she felt when he was finally inside her, and how that had paled in comparison to her body squeezing him as she came. She had been so unbelievably tight. He could have spent hours inside that girl and probably would have if she hadn’t left.
He could still see her running out the door as if her hair was on fire. He would have laughed about it if it hadn’t hurt so much to watch her leave. When he was with her, he felt powerful and wanted, which was certainly a feeling he’d missed over the years.
The only thing clouding his fond memories was the knowledge that he would most likely never see her again. He severely regretted not taking the time to go down on her. With a tongue as sweet as hers and a scent that potent, he just knew that her pussy would taste like ambrosia—sweet, dripping ambrosia—and it was a fucking crime that he hadn’t tasted her.
Sucking on his fingers, he tried to find a flavor to match the delicious scent that coated them. There was the faintest hint of something tangy and earthy, but not enough to know for sure. It was only enough to tease him, leaving him rock hard.
Just then a loud knock sounded at his window, causing him to jump in surprise. Turning quickly, he looked up in time to see a large man with light brown hair smiling down at him from outside the car. It was dark out, but it was still easy to see that his smile was enormous. The little bit of his face that wasn’t shining with teeth displayed deep dimples and sparkling eyes.
Adjusting himself quickly, he got out of the car, not bothering to lock the door before facing the smiling man. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!”
“Hey, sorry Ethan. I thought you heard me calling you.” Embarrassed, Ethan realized that a bomb could have dropped and he probably wouldn’t have heard it—not while he was thinking of his lovely afternoon distraction. “Come here,” the newcomer said, grabbing him tight in a huge bear hug. “I haven’t seen you in fucking forever!”
“I thought you weren’t going to get here ’til tomorrow,” Ethan replied, grunting his discomfort into the taller man’s chest, the familiar awkwardness already setting in.
“I caught the first flight out as soon as I could get away. The shuttle just dropped me off.” He gestured to a pile of bags near the front steps of the house. “Jeez, you didn’t hear that either?”
“Sorry… guess I’m a bit distracted right now.”
“Eh, no big deal. Man, I can’t believe how good it is to see you!” he said excitedly. “How the hell long has it been this time, anyway?”
“A while, I guess.”
“A while?! Try years, asshole!” Although his brother’s voice was playful, there was a glimmer of pain in his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re here, Ethan. Just maybe pick up the phone once in a while, huh?”
“Yeah, ok,” he replied uncomfortably, wanting to look anywhere but in his brother’s eyes.
“So mom said something about you and Rachel breaking up?”
Ethan could feel his jaw ticking with tension as he tried to force himself to reply. “That’s… putting it mildly.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
He had to fight the urge to scream this time. “No. Not… not right now. Sorry.”
“Well, I hope you know that I’m here for you if you ever change your mind.”
“Yes, thank you.” It was the same generic answer he’d been giving to the same generic platitude that everyone in his family had been offering him for days now, including relatives he barely knew or hadn’t seen in almost a decade. It didn’t escape him that he’d chosen the worst possible time to return home if he’d had any hopes of laying low. However, Ethan also knew that his brother was different: he didn’t believe in bullshit for bullshit’s sake.
“I suppose we should go inside, huh? Mom’s probably going batshit crazy over all the little details.” He clapped Ethan on the back and walked with him to the front door, stopping only to pick up his luggage.
They entered the house together, walking into an immaculate foyer that was larger than most homes in Aledo.
“Mom?” the larger man called out.
“In here!” A lot of noise could be heard from the direction of the kitchen. They walked through the doorway to find a beautiful middle-aged woman up to her elbows in flour. When she looked up at them, a very familiar, very large smile broke out on her face.
“Eric! You made it in early!” Barbara Foster, wife of Dr. Richard Foster, ran around the counter and held out her arms, trying to keep the messiest parts of her away from his shirt.
“Yeah, I came as fast as I could get away.” Eric leaned down and hugged her around the torso, still managing to get flour on the front of him and not caring in the slightest. “Look who I found lurking around outside,” he added, motioning behind him with a nod of his head.
“Oh, Ethan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day. Where did you run off to this morning after breakf
ast?”
The man with the messy golden hair shrugged dismissively. “I just needed to get away for a while.”
She looked him over for a moment with a mother’s knowing eye. “Well, whatever you did, it seems to have helped a bit. You look much more relaxed than you did before. I’m glad.” She looked as if she wanted to hug him, too, but wasn’t exactly sure how well it would be received.
“Mom, what the hell are you doing in here?” Eric asked, staring at the huge mess on the counter.
“Oh! I’m making the fruit tarts for the party tomorrow.”
“Are you planning on feeding an army?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. There are going to be a lot of people here. We have relatives coming from all over the place. I’m just trying to be prepared.”
“Okay, whatever you say, crazy lady,” he teased, scooping a thick finger into a bowl of lemon curd and licking it clean. “Where’s Maggie?”
“Emma kidnapped her and Brandon a while ago to go shopping in the Quad Cities. She said it was a last minute clothing emergency.”
“Heaven forbid,” Eric groaned. “And Dad?”
“Your father had a meeting at the hospital that he couldn’t get out of. It was scheduled for tomorrow, but the others were nice enough to meet with him tonight, instead. He’ll be home as soon as possible.”
“Mmm… mmhmm.” Eric continued to dip his fingers into different fruit mixtures and taste them, causing their mother to make clucking noises at him and shooing gestures with her arms. He finally laughed and backed away, holding his hands up in surrender.
Ethan stood back and watched the easy interaction between his brother and mother. They looked so natural and comfortable together. He thought he remembered being like that with them once, but it was so long ago that he couldn’t swear how much was memory and how much was imagination.
“Well, I’m gonna head up and unpack before Maggie gets back and starts stressing out over my wrinkled shirts,” Eric called over his shoulder as he walked toward the stairs. “Hey, how did her doctor’s appointment go today?”
“All clear,” she yelled back, looking straight at Ethan when her older son left the room. “Darling,” she sighed, “are you going to be alright?”
“I’m… managing,” he rasped.
“Are you?” Her knowing gaze bore straight into him. “I wish you would talk to us. You don’t have to carry this alone. We’re all here for you.”
“I know that.”
Her expression turned sad. “I hope you do.”
After an uncomfortable beat of silence, Ethan cleared his throat and made his excuses. “Listen, I think I’m going to lie down. I haven’t exactly been sleeping very well the last few nights.” He walked toward the stairs, but Barbara followed him.
“Do you need your father to prescribe something? I’m sure he would understand.”
“No!” he snapped, a little more sharply than intended. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that she had no idea what he had been through. “I’d rather not take anything, if I can avoid it. But thank you.” As he turned around and started walking up the steps, something caught his eye that he hadn’t noticed earlier.
Bright colors and swooping brushstrokes, with the all-too-familiar, pompously embellished “EJF” splashed across the lower right corner.
“I can’t believe you still have this,” he whispered, staring at the painting that was mounted on the wall in front of him.
“Of course I do, dear, don’t be silly. I love that painting. That was one of your first pieces.”
“That reminds me.” Ethan turned back to face her. He stuck his hand in his pocket and grasped the worn-out key again, rubbing it absentmindedly, as if it were an old lantern that would somehow make his mystery woman appear. “I’m going to be sticking around for a while. I just rented some studio space here in town—a shitty little apartment. I thought I might try to work a bit.”
Her answering smile was radiant. “Ethan, that’s wonderful! I think working again will help you through this. It might give you an outlet to channel your emotions. Plus, it will be lovely to have you around.” Then she added, almost in a whisper, “I’ve missed you.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know. There could be times when I’m gone for days at a stretch. If I get absorbed by something, I’ve been known to crash in the studio. I didn’t want you to expect me to be here each night or anything like that.”
“Whatever you need to do, sweetheart. You’re a grown man, you don’t need to check in. I’m just happy that you found something that might help you feel more productive.”
On that note, Ethan nodded curtly and turned around again, finally making his way upstairs to his old bedroom. Sometime in the last few years, Barbara had turned it into a guest room, most likely assuming that he’d never even set foot in it again.
Lying down in the oversized bed, Ethan prayed for sleep to find him again. That small bit he had earlier in the apartment with his mystery woman had been the most peaceful sleep he’d had in a long time, not just in the past week. As he lay there in the dark, he let his mind travel again to soft lips and delicious kisses, to delicate fingers stroking his hair. He wanted to hold her again. He wanted to bottle her up and keep her for nights just like that one.
And with that thought, he finally fell asleep.
* * *
Frantic kisses… bodies entwined in a heap on the floor… soft moans turning into pleasured cries… beautiful hazel eyes… fading… fading… fading…
Searching… looking everywhere… looking for someone… looking for anything…
Empty…
Empty room… empty drawers… empty bank account… empty…
Nothing but a hastily scribbled note:
“Dear Ethan…”
* * *
“NO!” Ethan screamed, sitting straight up in the foreign bed. He was pouring sweat and his heart was pounding in his ears.
Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was just after 3 a.m. It was the longest stretch of sleep he’d had yet.
He lay back down into the soaked sheets and cringed. When he tried to close his eyes, the images came back again. Rolling over to his side, he tried to distract himself and calm down.
After another hour passed with no luck, he punched the mattress in frustration.
Fuck you, Rachel. You fucking liar.
Chapter 5
The next morning found Lily sitting at the small desk in her upstairs bedroom. It was still dark outside, just after 6 a.m., and she was wrapped in an old, ratty blue robe with a towel around her head. Two large, orange-striped tabby cats twined their way around her ankles, but she hardly noticed them; she was too busy staring off into space.
Her jacket.
She still couldn’t believe that in her haste to leave that place, she’d left her jacket behind. Just thinking about it made a fresh wave of panic roll over her.
What the hell have I done? We didn’t even use anything! There is no excuse for this. Thank God I get the shot, but who knows what the hell he has?
She put her head in her hands, closing her eyes in frustration. Behind her lids, she saw flashes of vibrant jade eyes and luscious pink lips.
“Dammit!” Lily huffed, slamming her hands down on the desk.
All night she had been haunted with his image. She had sat there between her father and her fiancé, pretending to watch the game, all the while reliving every single touch in her mind. Every kiss. Every thrust.
And goddamn, could that boy move.
Regardless of how sick Lily was with herself over her thoughtless actions, she couldn’t convince herself it hadn’t been worth it. Well, perhaps worth it was a bit of a stretch. She wasn’t quite sure the guilt she was feeling was worth it, and if she ended up with some rare strain of herpe-gono-syphil-AIDS, that probably wouldn’t be worth it, either.
Amazing. That would probably be more fitting. Mind-blowing. That was certainly the truth. Lily had never felt any amount of pleasur
e remotely close to that before, and it had happened so fast that her head was still spinning.
She thought back to the uncomfortable moment when Scott had tried to kiss her goodnight before leaving to hang out with his friends from work. He had given her a friendly hug and leaned down for a quick peck on the lips, and Lily needed to stop herself from jerking her head back out of guilt. She knew it was wrong to let him kiss her where another man’s lips had recently been, and she couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eye when he pulled away. But even physically, the kiss itself had just felt wrong. His lips were the wrong texture, the wrong shade of pink. They didn’t make her knees feel weak as soon as they touched her own. They were cold and dry.
She had never noticed anything off about his kisses before; they had always seemed perfectly adequate. They were never unpleasant, but they had never kept her up at night obsessing about them, either. Lily had been with others before, a couple guys she dated in college while she still lived in Minneapolis, and they had all been fairly similar: adequate, but nothing to write home about. She just assumed that reality was nothing like the steamy encounters she hungrily devoured in books written by people like Maggie Foster.
It wasn’t as if she was frigid. She had plenty of good memories with her little “friend” that was tucked away in her nightstand. And when Scott managed to really put some effort in, which didn’t happen often because it required him lasting longer than about three minutes, Lily sometimes felt a few warm tingles. She had just never felt comfortable asking him for more, and he had never thought to ask. The few times he had tried to go down on her had been such awkward, embarrassing fiascoes that she just let him think she didn’t have any interest in that. She’d heard people joke that there was no such thing as bad head, but Lily would beg to differ.
She wondered briefly if her beautiful stranger would have more skill in that department. She remembered how strong his tongue had been as it swirled inside her mouth, instantly recalling the taste of him. She shook her head to clear her mind, knowing that it was useless to fantasize about something she would never get to experience. It also made her feel even more guilty when she realized how thoroughly she was comparing Scott to a man whose name she didn’t even know.
