Halfway Hidden

by Carrie Elks

  She was ugly crying now. Fat, hot tears escaped from her eyes, mixing with the snot running from her nose. Her sobs were loud and uneven, ending in wails that made Murphy flinch. He rubbed his hands in reassuring motions on her back, murmuring soft words of consolation.

  “If it wasn’t for the broken glass, I probably wouldn’t have left. But I knew if he came home and found a smashed mirror, I was going to be punished. I don’t mean a few lashings, or even the cane, because even though that shit hurts, I could take it.” Her voice broke. “He really liked to cut me and watch me bleed. Sometimes he’d do it so much I’d pass out from the blood loss.”

  She could still feel the cuts on her legs, the way the blood pooled on the floor as he watched. Afterward, when she managed to drag herself up from the tiles, he used to make her clean it up.

  “You were lucky to make it out alive.” Murphy’s voice was a growl. “How did you end up in West Virginia?”

  “I hitched rides. I went wherever the trucks took me. Eventually, at a rest stop in Virginia, I got picked up by a guy delivering beer. That’s how I ended up at here at Buddy’s.” She could remember the day she walked into the bar, dark hair falling limply over her pale face, hoping nobody noticed the scars.

  “He took you in?”

  Rachel nodded, biting her lip. Tears stung at her eyes as she thought of Buddy, of the way he’d offered her a home. They spilled out, burning a trail down her cheeks, pooling at her mouth. She didn’t want to cry and hated feeling weak, but her body hitched as sobs wracked through it. The emotion of the night before and the paralyzing fear of seeing David again was enough to push her to the edge of reason. She curled into a ball, trying to gain control of her feelings, enough to stem the flow.

  Then she felt a hand, warm and calloused but gentle against her skin. He brushed her tears away, then moved his thumb beneath her chin, tipping her face to look up at him. She stared at his face—hardened and unreadable. He curled his other arm around her waist.

  He held her for minutes, letting her sob it out, waiting patiently as her muscles unwound enough to make her relax. She could feel his gaze burning her skin, his intensity making her raw.

  Eventually, she gained enough control to let herself breathe normally again.

  “You okay?” He tipped his head to the side and looked at her.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …” She took a deep breath. “I’m so fucking scared, you know? I don’t want to go back to him. The thought of him hurting me again …” Her voice cracked.

  He rolled onto his back, letting out a soft sigh. The need to touch him pulled at her skin, and she moved on her side until her body was close to his. He turned his head, enough so his lips were inches from hers and she could feel his warm breath bathe her skin. His green eyes looked dark, confused, like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

  Rachel licked her dry lips and stared back at him, letting the intensity of his gaze invigorate her body; there was more than something there. Whatever it was between them seemed to be growing without permission.

  It was a while before his low voice penetrated the silence. “You would have stayed under the radar if you hadn’t applied for a gun license.”

  She took a moment to consider his words. “I needed to feel safe. I wasn’t expecting him to send somebody else. I thought if he found me, he’d come himself. I was going to be ready for him.”

  He turned to look at her. “Would you have shot him, if he came here?”

  Rachel nodded. “In a fucking heartbeat.”

  “Good girl,” he said in a rough voice. He pushed his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly. It felt as if he understood how she was feeling, that he recognized her pain. His sensitive reaction made her wonder if she was reaching him, making him see what a vile human being David really was.

  His chest expanded under her cheek as he inhaled a deep lungful of air. “I watched my mother get beat up for eighteen years.” He twisted the sheet between his fingers, bunching the fabric in his palm. “My father wasn’t a sadist, not like David, but the bastard liked to show her who was boss.”

  Rachel turned her body until they were almost touching. Her heart hammered against her chest. “What happened?”

  He looked up at her, and she could see the pain behind his gaze. His vulnerability touched her more than she could admit. “She killed herself. I’d just started earning enough to make a down payment on a house for the two of us. I came home from work one day and found her lying in the bathtub.”

  Rachel winced at the image of a young Murphy coming home to find his mother dead in the bathroom; no kid should ever have to see that. Compassion flooded her veins.

  “I’m so sorry.” She lifted her head to look at him, cupping his cheek with her hand as he stared at her. His eyes were dark and glassy, brimming with moisture. She resisted the urge to dry them with her fingers. “What happened to your father?” She almost regretted asking him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “He took her life insurance and drank himself to death.” Murphy seemed lost in his memories as he continued. “And I might have helped him on a little bit.”

  The shiver wracking her body had nothing to do with the snow outside. “You killed him?”

  “I bought the whiskey.” Murphy’s voice was laced with venom. “Though I’ve no idea how the rat poison got mixed in with the liquor.”

  Rachel didn’t ask him to elaborate. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more, and she was afraid how he’d react if she questioned him further. This cold, calculating side of his personality was at odds with the warm, emotional Murphy of a few moments ago. He was a self-confessed killer, though she’d already admitted she’d do the same to David, given half the chance.

  “We’re not so different,” she said it under her breath. His answering nod was barely perceptible. She could feel his tension in the ridge of chest muscles beneath her cheek and in the stilted way he inhaled and exhaled. He lay still and unmoving, as if considering his options, trying to choose which way to jump.

  Eventually the silence became too heavy to bear. She broke it with a quiet voice. “Has it stopped snowing yet?”

  “About an hour ago.” His response was clipped.

  “Jesus, why are we still here?”

  “You looked peaceful when you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Finally, there was a hint of softness behind his words. She could feel the tension starting to seep out of his body, his chest relaxing beneath her. She squeezed her eyes shut with relief, so thankful to feel the change.

  He lifted a hand and smoothed her hair down against her crown, raking his fingers between the tendrils. His thumb brushed softly against her neck, making her skin tingle with pleasure.

  He touched her with intent, his hand dipping lower, tracing the line of her spine. Desire flashed inside her belly, taking her by surprise. Rachel moved her hand from his chest, running the pads of her fingers down to his stomach, watching as his muscles tensed in response.

  When he reached down and stilled her wrist, his sudden movement made her look up with shock. Without saying a word he pulled her up, bringing her face in line with his, until their faces were inches apart. His stare was intense, his eyes dark and wide. It was almost painful to look at him, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  “Rachel …” His voice sounded like a warning. “We don’t need to do this.”

  She swallowed hard, though her mouth was already dry. He cupped her cheek with his hand, pulling her toward him until their brows were touching. She couldn’t come up with the words to say. It was like emotion had taken her thoughts hostage. He pulled her closer still, until their lips were barely touching, just enough to let her feel his warm breath.

  His voice cracked. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The way he said it made her want to cry again. It sounded like he was trying to convince them both.

  She pressed her lips harder against him. “I know.”

  �
��I’ll never let him hurt you, either.” His lips trembled against hers. “I won’t let him take you.”

  She dropped her head into the crook of his neck, trying to hide the tears. He cradled her head tenderly, letting her sob her relief into his skin. It didn’t matter how many times he said it; she wanted to hear it over and again.

  “You’re not taking me to him?” She looked up through red eyes, wanting to hear him say it again.

  “No.” He paused, tipping his head to the side. “I like the idea of packing you away in my suitcase, though, and taking you home to put on the shelf. Something pretty to look at.”

  His words cut through the tension in the room. She could feel her lips begin to twitch, like a smile was fighting to get out. “You want a doll to play with?”

  He grinned. “I could get used to it.” Reaching around, he cupped her ass. “Beats having to rely on Pamela.”

  She blanched at his mentioning of another woman. Looking up, she caught his amused gaze. He wiggled the fingers of his left hand, making her laugh.

  “Should I be flattered?” She shook her head. “Because being compared to a hand job isn’t the way to a girl’s heart.”

  “I said you were better than a hand job.”

  “Such a sweet talker.” She shook her head. “I should teach you a lesson.”

  His voice thickened. “Maybe you should.”

  The room was silent for a moment as she pulled herself up to her knees and hitched a leg over his waist, leaning up and cupping his face with both hands.

  “I want this.” She felt the need to reassure him, dipping her head and brushing her lips against his. “No matter what happens, you’re exactly what I want right now.”

  “Take me, then.” His rough, raspy reply was an offer and a request. His lips returned the pressure, doubled it, burning against hers, moving hard enough to make her gasp. He curled a hand around her neck to angle her face better, running a hot trail along her lip with his tongue, pushing until it slid it against hers.

  Rachel closed her eyes, savoring his taste and the sensation of his hard cock pressing into her hip. She pushed against him and he groaned, a deep, resonant sound that echoed into her mouth. His hand brushed her bare shoulder and his fingers trailed down her side. She gasped when his palm cupped her breast and his thumb extended to tease her nipple.

  Warmth pooled between her legs. Pleasure danced across her skin, lingering on her breasts, coiling in her belly. At this rate, she wasn’t going to last very long.

  “Do you have a condom?” With her lack of sexual activity the last year, she definitely didn’t have a secret stash in her bedroom.

  “Wallet. Jeans pocket.” He tipped his head toward the floor next to the bed, and she saw his clothes abandoned on the carpet. She pulled the foil packet from his wallet.

  “You plan on doing anything except lying there?” she asked. He laid on his back, hands behind his head, his hard cock pointing toward the ceiling.

  Murphy grinned. “I’m also enjoying the view.”

  She glanced down at her own naked body. His appreciation of her, from her small, pale tits, to her dark glossy hair, made her feel beautiful. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced for the longest time, and it made her want to fuck him…hard.

  Climbing back on the bed, she straddled his thighs and ripped open the foil, removing the latex disc. She positioned it over his head. The heat from his cock radiated through the condom to her hand. She wanted to squeeze him, apply more pressure, just to feel that warmth as she smoothed the protection down his length. Her fingers closed around him, and he thrust his hips against them. A low moan escaped from his lips. Murphy looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Come up here. I want to lick you.”

  Breathing hard, she crawled up his body, feeling his cock brush against her. When she reached his shoulders, he curled his arms from under his head and reached for her ass, squeezing her flesh as he positioned her above his face.

  “Damn, baby, you smell hot.” He brushed the tip of his nose across her clit, and Rachel felt the pleasure pulse through her nerves.

  She tried to grind against him, stopped only by the strength of his grip on her ass. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, keeping her still when she needed to move. He slapped her behind lightly, and she clenched with pleasure. There was no question this was happening on his terms.

  She leaned forward and braced herself against the headrest, feeling his tongue burn a trail of pleasure along her pussy. He avoided her clit at first, circled around it, laved his tongue everywhere except the one place she needed it most. She was squirming, grinding her pussy against his mouth, desperate for purchase, needing the pressure of his tongue against her clit.

  “Murphy, please …” She wasn’t above begging. “I need …”

  Sensing her mounting desperation, he pushed his tongue softly against her, moving it in gentle circles, putting a teasing pressure on her clit. It was everything and nothing, all and not enough. She wanted to scream with frustration.

  “Harder.” She didn’t know if she was commanding or pleading with him, but the breath was rushing out of her lips, preventing her from speaking.

  As if he sensed her desperation, his tongue tensed, pushing at her clit until she could feel her frenzy build. He dragged his hands past her ass and between her legs until he reached her slick entrance, curling two fingers inside her, fucking her with the same furious rhythm as his tongue.

  She clung tightly to the headboard, her hips rocking against him, her knuckles white from the intensity of her grasp. Her head tipped back as she felt the pleasure mount, bursts of ecstasy setting fire to her body, making her burn. Her nipples tingled as her thighs were wracked with tiny tremors.

  “Fuck me now.” Murphy moved his lips from her pussy, making her moan harder. She’d been just seconds from falling apart.

  His hands pushed at her thighs. “I want to feel you come on my dick.”

  She moved down his body, her mind a whirlwind of need. Hovering above him, she grasped him with her right hand, positioning him at her entrance, her body writhing to find the right position.

  Murphy gasped as she lowered her body, impaling herself to the hilt. His hips bucked against her, and she put a hand on his stomach to still him.

  Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his chest, using her arms to brace herself. She rotated her hips as she rose and fell, creating a steady rhythm which made him moan.

  “Harder.” It was Murphy’s turn to beg, and she smiled at the turnaround. She wasn’t grinning for long.

  His hands came around and grasped her hips, his biceps flexed as he pulled her up and down his hard shaft. His hips bounced against her ass as he fucked her from beneath, his power taking her breath away. She felt like a ragdoll on top of him, her muscles loose and her bones supple; she was the puppet, and he was the master.

  Every time he filled her with his cock, he twisted slightly, rubbing the base against her clit. The constant friction made the pleasure build from the pit of her stomach, laying down enough foundations for a mind-fucking orgasm. She could hear her loud moans, the way she called his name. It was like hearing a recording, not really believing she was hearing herself.

  “I’m so close.” Her breath was short, her moans loud. Her heart clattered against her ribs

  Murphy twisted his hips a final time and sent her flying, straight into an intense wall of orgasm. Her body shuddered as her walls pulsated. She barely noticed him continuing to buck beneath her, his cock wringing an orgasm from her exhausted body, the pleasure so close to pain it made every toe curl up.

  “Fuck, I’m there.” He was muttering assurances and digging his fingers so hard against her hips it brought tears to her eyes. She liked the way he held her like he would never let her go.

  Then he stilled, his mouth tense, his green eyes piercing as he stared directly at her. The only thing moving was his dick as it pulsed inside, filling the condom with streams of come, the rhythm of his orgasm matched by the
intensity of his groans.

  Jesus, they were a mess. A sweaty, exhausted mess. The sun was peeping through the curtains when she finally collapsed against him, feeling him circle her body in his strong arms. She let herself fall into his embrace, knowing she’d had the best fuck of her life with a man who seemed to like her enough to take a risk.

  Chapter Six

  A shaft of light pushed its way through the gap in the curtain. It crept across the floor to the bed, where it shone in Rachel’s eyes. She turned her head, moaning in her half-sleep, flinging an arm across her face in a futile attempt to block it out. Murphy was still slumbering when she woke. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, coupled with his loud, regular breaths, told her he was deeply under. She lay there for a minute, her head on his chest, and listened to his heart thumping against his ribs. It was strange to be alone with her thoughts, but calming too. Everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours seemed to push down on her chest, the fear mixed up with the exhilaration and the lust, until she wasn’t sure anymore what she was supposed to think.

  She looked at his sleeping face. His expression was soft, making him appear young and vulnerable. His lips were slightly open, the heavy bottom lip pouting a little, and she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch him. If she moved, would she wake him? She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. When he finally woke up, the day would have officially begun, and one way or another she knew she’d be leaving the bar. Her stomach contracted at the thought of it. This place was like her shield and her armor. It had made her feel safe for the past fourteen months, enough to think she might be able to make it alone.

  Then Murphy came along and everything was all fucked up.

  His lips trembled in his sleep, like he was trying to say something, silent words she was never supposed to hear. He turned on his side and curled his body around until he faced her, his eyes still tightly closed. She sensed he was close to waking, enough that a gentle push from her would tip him over the edge into lucidity.