by Naomi Niles
Jason was closer. His lips just a few inches away from mine. “No!” I screamed.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. I just want a taste.” His breath enveloped me in a sickening cloud. I could barely breathe. He was so close I could practically feel him. Something caught the light near my feet. It was a hand reaching in between the cracks on the lean-to wall.
It was Jesse, and he was holding a knife.
“Why stop there?” I said.
“You want it?” Jason asked and pulled back. He let go of my hair.
I met his eyes to keep him from looking at Jesse who was slipping the knife over the rope binding Dwayne’s hands. “I want it bad.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” Jesse was starting to get through it. “I want it bad.”
“You’re such a dumb bitch.” He grabbed the gun leaning against the wall, and pointed it in Jesse’s direction.
I screamed. The gun went off, and I fell. I could see a pool of blood seeping under the wall and a hole revealing Jesse’s strained face. He was holding his leg.
Jason still had the gun pointed at him. He stepped forward and cocked it, but Dwayne grabbed Jason by the ankle and pulled his foot out from under him. Jason fell back, knocking away what was left of the structure, then stood up as fast as he could with his gun in hand. He lunged at Dwayne.
“Dwayne, my ankle.”
Dwayne looked at me, dumbfounded, then reached out and grabbed the gun that I’d strapped that I’d strapped around my ankle. “I’m sorry,” He said.
I snapped my eyes shut and shielded my ears from the blast. Everything went quiet, save for the sound of the wind.
“Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!” Jason screamed. “You shot me!” He was laying on the ground covering his elbow, and a black stain was welling up on his sleeve. He started to get up. “You’re gonna die.”
“Jesse, throw me that knife.” Jesse threw it, and Dwayne caught it in the air. He reached down, untied his ankles, and stood up, so he could advance on Jason with the gun pointed at his face.
“No…” Jason inched back.
“I’m not going to kill you. I’m not that kind of man.” Dwayne reached into his pocket and dialed 911.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dwayne
I felt guilty when the cops pulled me aside and told me what’d happened. I knew why Jason had done what he did. He never had a chance, just like those children.
When we were in the navy, he would stay up at night telling me about his abusive father and how the man beat his mother until he killed her, then shot himself in the head. By then Jason was already 17, and it was too late for him to enter the system, so he was on his own, struggling to survive. When he did finally try to do something with his life, it drove him crazy.
Part of me thought that he’d never aged mentally. He was still stuck in that time between adolescence and innocence, watching his mother scream and beg his father to stop. That kind of trauma can hold a man back. Maybe that’s why things got to him as much as they did, or maybe that was just what happened when a soldier was left alone with his thoughts.
The police made us wait for hours so that we could speak with a detective and they could go over the crime scene. We stood around in the forest for hours, waiting while they took their time talking and trying to piece things together.
We were all still weighed down by the effects of the tranquilizers. I sat down with Gillian and leaned against a tree so she could rest her head against my lap and fall asleep. Eventually, the cops told us we had to clear the crime scene, so I carried her back to the car and sat next to her while we drove to the hospital.
She woke up halfway there and turned to me. “I feel terrible. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t left you.”
“Where did you come up with that?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I sorry.”
“Hey,” I said wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “You’re wonderful. Don’t ever apologize to me.”
She pressed her face against my chest, and I felt her tears soaking into my shirt while I rubbed her back. It didn’t take long for her to fall back to sleep. When we got to the hospital, we walked into the lobby hand in hand. She took a seat. “Don’t you want to go in?”
“No,” she said. “You go.” I didn’t want to walk away. I felt like if I did she would disappear, and I’d never see her again.
After a moment, I walked in back and found Jesse sitting up in bed with his head drooping up and down and his leg in a cast. When I knocked on the door, he shot up and scratched his nose mindlessly. “Oh, hey, bro.” His head fell back down.
“How much morphine did they give you?” I sat down next to him.
“Dude…” He smiled without looking up.
“You’re a real fuck up, you know that.”
He laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
“Sorry…” He trailed off.
“Don’t apologize. Just do something about it. Do you want to be living in a van for the rest of your life?”
He looked up and me, his eyes still drooping. “Why’d you come here?”
“To thank your sorry ass for saving my life.” I hugged him and got up. “Get yourself together, Jesse.”
“Okay…” He was out.
“How is he?” Gillian asked when I walked out.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Is it bad?”
“He’s drugged out of his mind, and they’re going to give him enough opiates to keep him hooked for life when he leaves.”
“It’s hard when it’s your family, but there’s nothing you can do short of tying him up for the rest of his life.”
“He’ll get it. He’s not stupid.” Michael motioned for the door. “I’ll take you guys back.”
I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, we were sitting in the car outside my house and Gillian was starting to stir. “Thank you for the ride,” I told Michael and helped Gillian out of the car. When he pulled out, I said, “Don’t go.”
She crashed her lips to mine and threw her arms against my neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, you’re not.” I let her inside.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Gillian
When I walked inside the room, Dwayne came up behind me and bit into my neck. His head twisted, he lifted the skin, and his lips fell just a little bit lower.
“Oh,” I sighed.
He wrapped his arm around my stomach and pressed up against me. “You’re here,” he laughed. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t believe we’re alive.” I turned on the light. His face was bruised and smeared with blood. He needed some love and care. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sit down,” I instructed and pointed at the couch.
He obeyed and let me run around trying to find everything I needed. He had a first aid kit under his bathroom sink. I pulled it out and walked back into the living room where he was sitting, smiling at me with his arms behind his head. He never lost his confidence, even after what’d happened. He was still a warrior. “Here,” I knelt down in front of him, tore open an alcohol pad, and pressed it to his forehead.
“Ow,” he cringed and pulled back.
“Don’t be such a baby.” I swept the pad down his nose.
“I’m not a baby. I just shot a man.”
“I talked to the guard at Adams Tower. He told me you went out there because the man was your friend and you didn’t want him to get arrested.”
“He was my partner for years. Half the time we were out in the field, we were alone together. He annoyed the shit out of me, but he was like a younger brother, and there were plenty of times when he saved my life. I couldn’t ruin his life without giving him a chance. I just wish that there was some way I could’ve saved him.”
“Just the fact that you tried-”
“No, Gillian.
You don’t understand. He sees things like I do, but he can’t stop it. He’s stuck, and he doesn’t just see things. He acts them out. He thought I was with the Taliban. He almost shot me, and the worst part was, I knew exactly where he was and what he was feeling. I used to go there all the time.”
“You really care about him.”
“I do.”
“I’m sorry.” I finished wiping his face, grabbed another pad, and started on his wrist.
After a moment, he said, “It got me thinking.”
“About what?”
“About us. If you hadn’t come along, that could’ve been me.”
“No, Dwayne…”
“I mean it. I know it sounds strange, but he was living like he was still in the military. He didn’t have a house, just that fort; he camouflaged himself with mud and brush just like they taught us. I know what was happening to him. You get stuck in the military, even when you leave. I’ve seen it in myself. You’re the only reason I haven’t slipped into that.”
He grabbed my wrist and turned my chin so that I was facing him. He had a look of pure devotion on his face. He needed me just as much as I needed him. “Thank you.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and pressed his lips to mine.
I had to hold onto the back of his shirt just to keep from falling. He wrapped his arm around me to support me and pressed in further. His tongue flicked out to press against my upper lip. Then he pulled back. “I don’t ever want to lose you. I don’t know what I’d do. I love you, Gillian.”
“I love you, too.”
He leaned in and kissed me, this time slower with a gentle touch I never knew he had. When my lips opened, he let his tongue pull out just enough to give me a taste. Then he pulled back and stood up to lead me into the bedroom.
When he laid me down on the bed, I closed my eyes. My body was sore. My skin was raw, and my wrists stung where the rope had dug into them. I’d done too much, seen too much, and I was tired. It would’ve been easy to give into the haze of the tranquilizers if it weren’t for Dwayne’s touch.
His lips poured in, and he swung himself over me, his knee digging into the space between my legs. He pushed it deeper, it grazed my lips, and I sighed. He let his hands move down my arms and grabbed my hands. The chill erased all of the pain, my lips opened to accept him, and he pressed his tongue through, this time deeper into my mouth.
I forgot all of the bloodshed and the fear and drifted back into a state of peace, enchanted by his lips moving down my neck, behind my ear. He lifted my hands and kissed up my arm, my shoulders, and back down over my chest.
This was worship, soothing and pure, not sex. He hadn’t even touched me yet, though I could feel his knee grazing my opening. That wasn’t the point of this. He needed me to give myself over to him, and I needed to know that he was there, that he was safe.
“I love you.” He kissed me again. “I love you.” Another kiss, and I felt chills moving down my neck. “I love you.” The cold flowed down my body, over my arms, and into the place just below my gut. He was moving down my neck, playing with the hem of my shirt, pulling it up slowly.
He lifted it off and threw it onto the ground, then focused on the space between my breasts, his hands gripped on my sides. He was bulging out of his jeans. I could see his cock jump and shivered. He laughed and looked up at me. “So sexy…” He pulled down, kissed my stomach, then reached up behind my back to unclasp my bra. He slid it off and flicked his tongue over the tip of my nipple.
The warmth was a shock that sent me reeling. It pierced through the cold that’d settled in my gut and flew down towards the space between my legs. It was ready to leap out, so I closed my legs shut, hoping I could contain it.
His hands cupped my breasts as he moved on to the other nipple. I gasped when he nicked it with his teeth. “Oh, God.”
“Ooh,” he laughed and dove in again. This time he clamped his teeth down and pinched my other nipple. I jolted up, and he shoved his hands down my pants. He swept his palm over my lips, then pushed his finger through, just the tip. It wasn’t enough, but that one little bit was a powerful catalyst.
My legs were quivering; my lips throbbing. I was struggling to hold it in, but it wasn’t going to work. It was coming. Every time he pushed his finger through, I felt myself losing more and more control until I couldn’t stand it.
He pulled out and reached his head up to kiss me again. His movements were filled with the force of his passion. His tongue pushed deeper into my mouth. His hands were cupping my breasts, and his cock was rubbing against my wet lips.
He didn’t move onto the next spot or even begin pleasuring himself. He was content to move his hands over me and taste my lips. We’d both been so deprived. I’d lost sight of how much I needed this.
His thumbs were circling my nipples, an icy burn that spread down my stomach, mixed with the warmth of his lips and the pressure of his bulge, pressing in and out, in again, this time deeper. I was trembling. This time it was coming and I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried. I pinched my legs closed, but he ripped them apart and unbuttoned my pants.
The air rushed through, lapping at my sensitive skin, and I was certain that I was going to explode. His lips moved down my neck, kissed my nipples, lapping at them with his tongue as he pulled my pants lower, down below my hips where his hand lingered. It moved down the curve, over my thigh, towards the opening.
He ripped my pants down below my knees. The anticipation was overwhelming. My body was screaming, but he was slow, purposeful, and never rushed. Instead, he focused on the tips of my nipples, pressing them between his lips.
The shock lifted my body, and my eyes snapped shut. The fire, the chill, and his soothing touch became a chain reaction, setting off the wild burst forming between my legs. I could feel it trickling out now, and his hand was getting closer, towards the space between my labia and my thigh.
My blood was pulsing, my heart throbbing – all in anticipation of that moment when he’d finally touch me, but he wasn’t going to rush. Instead, he pulled his hand away and moved his head lower, along with my pants, and kissed my stomach, my belly button and even lower.
I tensed up. He ripped my pants off and looked up at me. He grabbed the hem of my panties and slowly pulled them down as he rose up, ran his hands down my leg, and pulled off my shoe, then my sock, and began kneading the ball of my foot.
“Oh,” I sighed as he applied pressure beneath my toes, stroked the arch, then lifted my foot up so he could kiss it. He set it down and moved his hand up my other thigh. His thumb grazed my clit, and something inside me burst open and a flood began to build up, trickling out in tiny drops, each growing larger and larger, bursting through until a rush poured out and I felt like I was falling through a cloud of hot steam.
“A-ah,” I moaned. The flood didn’t stop. It was taking me with it, pouring over the rest of my body until it carried me away. My eyes snapped shut. I was sliding through, crying out. It wasn’t going to stop. It was taking over.
I felt like I was lying under a waterfall, letting it pound against my skin. Eventually, the water did begin to diminish, but it left behind a searing heat that coalesced deep, just below my stomach.
He pulled my other shoe off, my sock, and took his time taking in my expression while he massaged the balls of my feet. His other hand moved forward, down my thigh, and he grabbed my clit and pressed it in between his fingers. I sucked in a quick burst of air and my hips shot up.
He drove his head through, swept his tongue over my lips, and I could feel them parting, writhing from the tense heat of his breath. He was circling the tip of my clit with his fingers, and drove his tongue through, just enough to send me into a frenzy before he pulled it back.
I reached down to grab his head and push it in, but he pulled back and wagged his finger, then stood up. Pulling his hand away from my clit, he began unbuttoning his pants. His finger slid down the zipper as his thumb flitted over the head of his cock.
Goose
bumps popped up on my arms. I needed to touch him, to let him know hat I appreciated him as much as he appreciated me. I sat up…only to have him push me down.
“Stay there.”
“But…”
“No.” He wagged his finger and began lifting his shirt to reveal a trail of hair leading down into his pants, his ridged stomach, the mounds of his chest, and his mountainous shoulders. He threw it off and pounced on top of me. His lips met mine, his body pressed in, and his cock pressed against my thigh.
I wanted it. I needed it. It was infuriating, exciting, and overwhelming. I knew that if I begged for it, he’d make me wait longer. I couldn’t sit through it, though. I would lose my mind – but I didn’t have any other options, and his lips felt so good.
I could feel something move down my thigh, and his bare skin pressed against mine. His cock was sitting upright, pressed against my opening, and he was pulling his pants down lower. The tension, the need — every breath, every movement was torture. He pressed in deeper, and I pushed into it in a desperate attempt to drive him deeper, but he pulled away, and I lost it.
“Don’t you keep me waiting like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulled on his foreskin, moved his hand up, then back again. He took his time, watching my reaction. “You know what this is for?”
“Screw you.”
“You wanted to take some time away.”
“I swear to God, Dwayne.”
I reached down to touch myself, but he caught my hand, lifted it up, and kissed the palm, my wrist, my arm, elbow, then shoulders as he bent down further. My bottom lip quivered when cock grazed my thigh. My hands were shaking, my stomach trembling, and I was struggling to hold it in.
He kissed me and pulled his hips up. Then he was inside. “A-a-ah,” I moaned. The sound left my lips and kept rolling out. He was going slow, edging towards my spot. He stopped short, pulled out, and dove in again, this time closer – but not nearly enough.
