by K B Cinder
“We’re all born to die,” Coffee Jesus started, and those five worlds catapulted me back into hell.
I stood, grabbing my purse. I gestured between it and the door, getting a nod of a blessing from Allegra before taking off.
I’d barely made it into the hall before I started shaking, a single tear escaping as the memory of Vic’s Jaguar speech washed over me.
I trembled with every step down the long hall, unsure where to go. I needed any air I could get, but preferably air far from the bathroom that made me nauseous just thinking about.
I settled into a stairwell after making a last-minute turn, sitting on the rubber-gripped step with my head between my knees, taking deep breaths to force down the pangs of panic in my gut.
The psychologist I’d seen post-accident mentioned triggers, but I figured he was being overdramatic. Since then, I’d discovered all those little horrors one by one, from crunching metal to screaming brakes to, apparently, anyone discussing being born to die.
Damn Vic and his poor-man’s philosophy.
“Trying to sniff remnants of my fingers?”
I snapped my head up with a shriek, finding Rebel leaning in the doorway leading to the hall.
I ignored his disgusting joke to press a hand to my thumping heart. “Jesus, you’re following me now?”
He shrugged. “You looked mildly insane in there. I had to make sure you weren’t sneaking out to slash my tires.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” I informed, smoothing my skirt. “I have better things to do.”
“Right, like sit there giving yourself a pelvic when you’re supposed to be in therapy?” he mocked with a roll of his sea-green eyes. “You really are the life of the party, Sparky.”
“Coming from you, Chickenshit?” I scoffed, staring up at the inked god. “What do you do for fun besides annoy the hell out of me and frolic in the world of blue balls and wimps?”
He wasn’t wounded in the slightest, assessing me with tired eyes. “Not sure why I’m the wimp. I’m not the one that’s run out of the session in a tizzy twice. That two-for-two. Going for three next week?”
“I’m not in a tizzy!” I defended, though the balled fists on my knees begged to differ.
“I know a tantrum when I see it,” he rebuked. “You’re either pissed off or pissed on. If you’re not pissed off, who pissed on you, Sparky? I hate to break it to you, but pee-play isn’t for me.”
I scrunched my nose, not wanting to think of anyone peeing anywhere near me. “Can you ever not be gross?”
He held firm with seriousness in his eyes; the playfulness stripped away for a change. “Answer the question.”
“Look, this is none of your business. Can you leave me alone? You don’t need to run after me like some knight in tattooed armor.” I smoothed my skirt, ensuring the layers of fabric still hid my ankle monitor. Even if he knew about it, that didn’t mean I wanted the unwanted accessory to see the light of day.
“The first time, I upset you, and I needed to apologize. This time, I feel like I might’ve done the same. I’m sorry about the thing with Knockoff Jesus earlier. I’ll leave you alone from now on. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“You said that last time,” I grumbled. “But this has nothing to do with you.”
He stepped forward and extended a hand, his wrist wrapped in ink roses.
I eyed the limb, noting the long, lean fingers, a few bearing thick silver rings. Funny how I’d rounded bases with the man before getting to know a thing about him. If those rings had significance. If any of those miles of tattoos honored someone. Hell, in all honesty, he could’ve been missing a finger and I wouldn’t have noticed. I’d focused on me, me, me as usual.
“Take it,” he ordered.
I ignored his hand, leaning back into the stair, the next step digging into the small of my back. “I’m fine where I’m at, thanks.”
His eyes hardened, his hand unmoved. “I’m not trying to help you up; I’m giving you my word. Shake on it.”
I studied the appendage for a buzzer. A pin. Gum. Anything. But there was nothing. Just clean, pale skin and metal jewelry.
Against my better judgment, I placed my hand in his and shook, finding the limb warm and friendly, unlike the rest of his rigid demeanor.
His eyes locked on mine, his stubbled jaw stiff. “I won’t bother you again. If you’d like, I won’t say a word to you ever again. We can be strangers.”
I wasn’t sure why, but that last bit sent my heart plummeting. As much as he annoyed the hell out of me, group wouldn’t be the same without his little jabs. It was only my second class, but somehow, I’d looked forward to those needles here and there. They reminded me that I was alive and part of the unit, not just existing like some houseplant.
“I never said you couldn’t talk to me,” I murmured, snatching my hand out of his before I did something stupid, like pull him down on top of me. “We’re in there together. Ignoring one another kinda defeats the purpose of group therapy, right?”
“If you want to be a stickler for the rules, you need to be one for all the rules, Sparky,” he husked.
“I haven’t broken any rules!” I objected.
I hadn’t. I even did the ridiculous homework assignment Allegra had given me and only me as I left the first class: Stay out of trouble. I toed the line beautifully all week long, and from what I could tell, my morning coffee runs on the way to work totally weren’t showing as violations.
A slanted smile crossed his lips. “You’re breaking one right now by even talking to me.”
He was screwing with me again, dammit. “Allegra never said men and women can’t speak.”
His index finger lifted in pause. “We can’t speak outside of meetings, or it ruins the group dynamic. Technically, we can’t be friends.”
I remembered Allegra briefly mentioning that as I’d left along with the tidbit about staying out of trouble, but I rolled my eyes, anyway. “Good thing we aren’t.”
He splayed a hand over his chest, his fingers sinking into the black cotton. “I’m wounded, my lady. We aren’t friends?”
I bit down on my cheek to keep from smiling. “I just met you.”
“It’s still okay to like me, you know?” he pushed, firing off another sexy smirk. “You can admit it. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret, like the time you mauled me in the bathroom like a hungry tiger.”
I bit down harder. This man was ridiculous.
“Remember how I rubbed you like a little cat, and you practically curled up in my lap?” he asked, his eyes falling heavy-lidded as he reminisced. “But that’s what friends are for. They give you a scratch when you need it.”
That ridiculous knot returned to my belly as electric bolts shot down below, flipping the breakers into overdrive and short-circuiting the system. I kept my head high as I studied him despite the wetness between my legs. “I don’t know what friends you have, but mine don’t do those sorts of things.”
I didn’t have friends at all anymore, really, but that was besides the point. When I did, I didn’t partake in the friends with benefits scene.
I preferred to date outside my circle. Asshats, according to my sisters. They weren’t wrong. I always seemed to fall for someone on the wrong side of the law.
His fingers ran along his jaw as a rough laugh escaped his lips. “You should get new friends then.”
A twist of jealousy struck just thinking of anyone else scratching anything of his. “I’m good.”
“Are you?” he pushed, standing tall. If I wanted to, all I had to do was reach out, hook my hands in his pockets, and pull him into me. “Because those pink cheeks tell me you have an itch you need scratched.”
I swallowed hard, but couldn’t argue. I wouldn’t, either.
“I’ll tell you what,” he mused, leaning back on his heels to look down at me before dropping the bomb. “I’m willing to lend my services one last time. Just because you’re my friend.�
�
Holy. Fuck.
I blinked, too stunned to think, let alone speak.
He leveled a hungry look that set me on fire. “We don’t have much time. This needs to be hard and fast. If you’re not too chickenshit, meet me in the supply closet around the corner. Otherwise, I’ll see you back in group in five.”
At that, he walked off, leaving me breathless.
I sat there in silence, still struggling to come back down from the hormonal high as he disappeared from view.
Every molecule within me buzzed with energy, enough that the slightest touch would spark a static snap.
Right and wrong jousted in my gut as I stared where Rebel had stood, the scales dipping dangerously in wrong’s favor.
Fucking someone when I was supposed to be in therapy was beyond wrong, but it was the me thing to do. And I hadn’t felt like myself in ages. I was a robot, not feeling at all.
Walking away from a hot, horny, and ready-to-go man wasn’t the right thing to do. He had to be some sort of divine intervention. Maybe God wanted me to get my rocks off in a supply closet.
I was meant to do it, dammit.
Destined for the D.
At least that’s what I told myself while scribbling my phone number on an appointment reminder card and tucking it in my top. What I repeated as I walked from the stairwell, around the bend, and right into the arms of the devil in waiting.
The door had barely closed before we fused into one, our lips meeting with the same fervor as before.
As promised, he waited no time, hiking his pants down and my skirt up, lifting me to clamp my legs around his waist. His fingers pulled my cotton panties to the side and toyed with me as we shuffled through darkness together, the room heavy with the citrus stench of commercial cleaner.
My back found a home against a wall, the cool cinderblocks rousing goosebumps across my skin.
Positioned between a mop handle and a broom, I found myself again, my knight nothing more than a stranger with a smart mouth.
The faint sound of a condom snapping made an appearance between our sighs, and there was pressure at my entrance soon after, followed by a hard, hot thrust.
I gasped into his mouth, the harsh intrusion ripping through me after an embarrassingly long dry spell. I felt him clear to my toes, the fullness too much too quickly.
His kisses silenced any worries, his fingers making quick work of my clit as he ground into me. My fingers bit into his arms, my body struggling to adapt.
He pulled his lips from mine and nipped at my neck, the simple act setting off a firestorm. I threw my head back and let him consume me, the skilled work of his hand between us making me forget all about the pain at my center.
“I want you to ride me,” he murmured, sinking his teeth into my skin. “If I get one shot at this, I want it to fucking count.”
I nodded, and he spun, turning to press his shoulders to the wall where mine had been. He placed the soles of my shoes against the cinderblocks and pushed his hips out to give me room to work, leaning in to give me a tender kiss before slapping my ass.
My arms looped around his neck, and in a move I never imagined, I pushed against the wall with my legs, lifting myself almost entirely off of him before slamming back down.
The act hurt my right knee like hell, but I made lefty pick up the slack, too turned on to stop.
This new position brought power—the one thing I’d lacked before. Now I was in control of both of our pleasure and fuck, I couldn’t get enough.
I made every lift count, knowing neither of us could last forever, slamming myself down and taking it to the base. He filled me up entirely, giving me more than I ever thought possible, and as the sounds of our bodies meeting filled the air, I didn’t want it to end.
The walk of shame wasn’t that bad.
We’d been gone for five minutes tops—having a quickie in every sense of the word—and Rebel returned before I did to keep suspicions at bay.
As I entered the room, I gestured at my bag again and nodded to Allegra, who seemed to understand what I was getting at, the universal it’s that time of the month smoke signal that saved me repeatedly when I’d hid out to gossip about boys in the bathroom in high school. Only now I was in my mid-twenties and doing far more than just gossiping in there.
I took my seat and stared at the whiteboard, ignoring Rebel like it was my job. It was, in a way, if we didn’t want to get caught.
I couldn’t speak for him, but I knew I couldn’t afford the boot. If Allegra tossed me out, Judge Morton would trash the sweetheart deal he’d cooked up for me, and I’d end up cavity searched and in a jail cell by the weekend.
Sitting next to Coffee Jesus and a mustached man who reeked of popcorn should’ve cooled me down, but my body still hummed from Rebel, the cells electrified and ready for another go. I crossed my legs to snuff out any fire, but the friction only worsened the yearning for more.
God, it was going to be a long session.
Allegra dragged on about avoiding temptation, making matters worse.
By the time she called a wrap, I couldn’t grab my things fast enough.
“Soraya,” she called, eyeing me from the desk. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
I swallowed the canary in my throat, avoiding to urge to look to Rebel as I nodded and slid my purse up my shoulder.
I crossed the room in the time it took it to empty; the space returning to an empty shell.
Allegra viewed me over her glasses before a tiny smile touched her lips. “How are you liking group, hun?”
Normally, I’d pitch a fit over hun since it bordered on condescending, but Allegra didn’t come across as the type to use it that way. She reminded me of Mama, who gave everyone cutesy nicknames. Everyone but me, at least.
“I’m still taking it all in,” I replied, not wanting to admit that I hated every second of self-help bootcamp. I needed to act like I was getting something out of it, right? Something other than an orgasm courtesy of another member.
“It’s a lot; I know,” she sympathized, her eyes kind as she looked at me before checking the room for signs of life. “Don’t let Rebel get to you, okay? I know he’s a handful, but he means well. I think he’s just picking on you to make you feel included.”
“Like a kid on the playground,” I agreed. “The shiny new toy.”
Allegra searched my face for a moment before sliding her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “No one else has bothered you, right?”
I shook my head, relieved I didn’t have to lie. I didn’t know why, but lying to her felt dirty, like I was lying to my kindergarten teacher or something. She had pure written all over her face.
I think she knew it, too, her eyes like a polygraph test. She probably had some super-secret psych training where she could sniff out a lie. I made a conscious effort to look left as she scanned over me, remembering an article once that said liars looked to the right.
“Has anyone tried to talk to you after class?”
Dammit. “Just small talk on the way to the lot,” I answered, smoothing my skirt. “Everyone’s been very welcoming.”
“I’m glad to hear,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Remember to keep it brief outside of group, but I’m happy they’ve accepted you. They can be standoffish. Especially Rebel.”
Standoffish was a nice euphemism. Honestly, it seemed like I’d picked a group of assholes from the sign-up sheet online.
I waved her off. “I can handle him.”
She laughed, scooping up her messenger bag. “At least one of us can. Sometimes I swear he’s trying to run me out of here screaming.”
I waited for her to gather her keys, realizing she wanted to walk out with me. A little one-on-one with the group leader wouldn’t hurt. Especially if I ever got myself into some real trouble and needed forgiveness. “Men do that.”
She chuckled as we headed toward the door. “That they do. But so do kids.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“
Have you ever thought of working with them?” she asked as she locked the door.
“Like… elementary kids?” I trailed. “They’re too needy.”
“More like middle or high school aged,” she clarified. “I noticed that the younger members of the group pay attention when you speak. I think you might have a niche there, missy.”
I laughed away the absurdity of it. Me and kids? Yeah, right.
“Just an observation,” she explained, slipping her buzzing phone from the pocket of her red slacks. “This is Mr. Hughes. Gotta run. Have a great week, Soraya.”
I waved goodbye, letting her speed walk ahead of me down the long hall. Her heels clacked wildly into the distance as she did, and I envied her a bit. She had confidence. Commanded respect.
I… well, I made my way slowly, in no particular rush to get to my car and drive home to my four-walled prison. It was such a nice day that I was aching to go down the shore for just a peek at the waves, even if I didn’t get there until well past sunset. A night walk on the beach sounded heavenly.
As I neared the supply closet from earlier, I spied a familiar devil leaning against it. His eyes found mine, and without another word, he slipped into the closet.
I gnawed on my lip, watching Allegra trudge into the distance, chatting away blindly on her phone. If she turned around and saw me slip in…
And what if I ran over my allotted time and the bracelet went off? Did it have a heart rate monitor built in? Could some guy in a van somewhere tell I was getting off?
Fuck. The things I got myself into.
My hands found the handle, and like before, my lips met Rebel’s in a frenzy on the other side. The light was on this time, not that either of us seemed to care, the air buzzing as he pressed his hardness against my stomach.
Out of instinct, I reached for his belt, but he pulled his lips from mine and shook his head. “No. My turn.”
I didn’t have time to ask what he meant before he dropped to his knees, taking my skirt with him, leaving me exposed. I hadn’t worn stockings with the peasant skirt. There was no need.
I shrieked, my hands flying to cover the mangled lightning at my knee.
