Insidious

by Aleatha Romig

  His eyes widened in question. “Well, yes, Mrs. Harrington, your husband meant a lot to each and every one of us at the firm.”

  I nodded slightly, answering his unasked question. Parker and Maura Craven had both made their way to me. However, with Maura present, Parker had refrained from mentioning the impending legal documents.

  Brody tipped his head. “If we can be of any assistance, please feel free to call.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  My insides twisted at the promise of his grin and the shimmer of his smirk.

  When the final guest left, I settled into an overstuffed loveseat and retrieved my phone. Before I could look, both Travis and Val were at my side: Val sitting down next to me, leaning in close and offering me her support, while Travis loomed above.

  “Mrs. Harrington, would you like me to bring the car around?”

  I peered down at the screen.

  “I CAN’T STAND SEEING YOU AND NOT TOUCHING YOU. CALL ME.”

  Turning off the message, I looked up at Travis’ narrowing glare. Did he see that? Fuck it! I looked over at Val. Her eyes were closed with her head on my shoulder.

  “No, Travis. I’m going to stay at Val’s tonight. I’ve had enough of all of this for one day. Why don’t you run along, and you can pick me up in the morning.”

  I saw Val’s lips quirk.

  “Mrs. Harrington, the funeral—”

  I lowered my voice. “I’m well aware that my husband’s funeral is tomorrow, thank you. Tonight I want to spend some time with my sister. Need I remind you..?” I didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harrington. I’ll be awaiting your call tomorrow morning.”

  Val and I giggled at Travis’ clenched jaws.

  “You know,” Val began. “If he keeps that up, he could have real TMJ problems. The man needs to learn to loosen up.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I’m kind of surprised that he’s still here. I always got the feeling you didn’t like him much.”

  I shrugged. “I guess I want to get through all this stuff…” I gestured toward the chairs and the empty funeral home. “…first.”

  “So, you’re coming home with me? I like that.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  I waited until we were in her car before I sprung my news. “Thanks for letting me spend the night. Can I borrow your car?”

  Val did a double take. “My car? Where do you want to go? I can take you.”

  I tilted my head to the side, opened my eyes wide, and elongated my plea. “Ple-eea-se.”

  “Oh, shit! This is horizontal-sleeping-friend, isn’t it? Sis, give Stewart a day or two to get cold.”

  “He didn’t need a day or two. He was cold as ice long before he died.”

  WHILE VAL DROVE us to her apartment, I couldn’t help my eyes drifting toward the side and rearview mirrors. In the pit of my stomach, I knew that Travis would be watching. It didn’t take long for my suspicions to be confirmed. Nearing the medical center, I spotted his black SUV. Fuck! Isn’t it my SUV? I should have fired him two days ago. Why didn’t I? What did he know? I remembered a long time ago wanting Stewart to fire him, asking Stewart to fire him, and he told me no. He said Travis knew too much. What the fuck was too much?

  I pushed my thoughts away and concentrated on Val’s words. As usual, she was in the middle of some soliloquy. “…come in, unless you’re too preoccupied with your friend to spend some more time with your sister.”

  I sighed. “I’d love to come in, but only if you have a glass of wine. Spending all night listening to everyone tell me what a wonderful man Stewart was has me ready to jump out of my skin.”

  Val’s tone lowered. “You really can’t blame him.”

  My head spun toward her. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not sticking up for Stewart, or against you. Please don’t take it that way. I have no idea about the particulars of your life. That’s been your decision not to share.”

  And the do-not-disclose clause.

  She continued, “But I have been trying to tell you: those drugs he was on—they make people different. I know it was driving you crazy that he wanted you around all the time and wanted to know where you were, but, Vik, the man was dying. He knew he was dying. That’s not something that’s easy to swallow, especially for a man as young as Stewart.”

  I stifled a laugh. “I seem to remember your calling him old when I told you we were getting married.”

  “Well, hell, I was seventeen years old. You were eighteen. He was old! But for a victim of the rapidly progressing leukemia that he had, he was young. That doesn’t usually happen to people until they’re in their seventies or eighties.”

  I took a deep breath, eyeing Travis again in the side mirror. “I know that. I know you think I need counseling. Maybe I do; maybe I will. Right now I just need to get through the next few weeks of shit. My plate is full.”

  I watched as Val inserted a card into a reader and the gate to her apartment’s parking garage opened. I sighed, watching Travis’ SUV fade away as we drove deeper into the bowels of the parking garage toward her assigned space.

  “I get that,” she replied. “I just don’t want you to forget the eight-plus good years you had because he was hard to live with near the end.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, I promise. The memories of him at the end won’t tarnish the other years.” Quite the opposite.

  AN HOUR, A glass of Merlot, and a string of text messages later, and I was out of Val’s apartment and on my way toward Brody. Wearing my hair up in one of Val’s baseball caps, I drove a loop around the medical center. It was my diversionary tactic. If Travis saw the car leave the garage, I hoped he’d think it was Val. After repeatedly checking my mirrors and looking down side streets, I breathed a sigh of relief that he was nowhere to be found.

  As I made my way toward the small, secluded motel, taking the less than direct route, I had the realization: this was fucking ridiculous. Stewart was dead. Why the hell did I feel the need to hide my activities from my own damn employee?

  Earlier, when I’d brought up the motel’s address on my phone, I knew it wasn’t our normal type of place. From its pictures it looked like the kind of motel seen on crime shows, the places where prostitutes frequented and often ended up dead.

  As I got closer I laughed. Maybe it was the perfect place. Because tonight I wanted to be a whore: not Stewart’s whore, but my own. For the first time since I could remember, I wanted sex—pure, unadulterated fucking—and I wanted it bad. So much so that as I drove into the darkness the night before my husband’s funeral, all I could think about was Brody Phillips. I thought about his tall, trim, and healthy physique. I remembered him standing in the funeral home all proper and businesslike. I imagined the clean scent of his aftershave.

  As miles passed, I embellished the memory:

  No longer were we conversing in front of the other mourners. No. I imagined the same scene with significantly different details. In my fantasy, as he stood in front of me and gave me his condolences, instead of nodding, I unbuttoned his starched white shirt. As each button came undone, more of his wide chest became visible. Unable to control myself, I ran my hands up and down his firm abs. His aquamarine eyes zeroed in as each ripple of muscle tightened under the tips of my fingers. When his stare turned sultry, my nails gently raked the surface of his tanned skin. With a quick lick of my fingers, I rolled his nipple and licked my lips. His gaze narrowed as I allowed my hand to fall lower, teasing the buckle of his black leather belt.

  He leaned closer as the room of people hushed at our blatant display of disrespect. Seizing my shoulders, Brody growled in my ear, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Instead of answering, I nuzzled his neck, hearing the stir in his throat and feeling growth of his erection. I pushed my hips forward.

  “Oh, you want to put on a show?” he asked, his deep voice now raspy.

  “Yeah,” I cooed, just before playfully nipping his
ear.

  Grabbing my chin, he harshly captured my lips, holding them hostage until my body melted and I moaned in both pleasure and pain. Pulling away, he reached for my shoulder and in one fluid move, spun me around, bending me over the table—the one with Stewart’s urn. My hips bruised against the polished wood as his stone-hard cock met my ass. His stubbly cheek against my neck felt like sandpaper as he snarled near my ear, “If you want a show, I’ll give you a fucking show. I’ll show all these assholes that you’re mine. No one else’s, ever. Just mine.”

  Before I could respond, he reached for the hem of my black dress and pulled it to my waist, exposing my black lace panties, now wet in anticipation. “Is that what you want?” He continued to taunt me with his cock.

  Speech was becoming more difficult as the murmurs throughout the funeral home disappeared into the sounds of his frantic heart and warm breath at my ear. All I could do was nod.

  Brody snatched my hair, twisted it around his fist, and held my head still. “No, Vik. No more nodding. Fucking talk. Tell me what you want.”

  My body trembled as I answered honestly. “I want you. I want you to take me right here.”

  I gasped as he touched my inner thigh and his knee pushed my legs apart. Reaching for my panties, he moved only the crotch and slid his fingers deep inside.

  Even though I knew that eyes were watching, I didn’t care. Some of them had seen me like this before; others were appalled, while even more were turned on as hell. Moans echoed throughout the room as Brody returned my concentration to him. With one hand he reached forward, rubbing my clit.

  “Tell them,” he growled.

  My mind was a blur. Tell them what?

  “Tell them you’re mine.”

  “I’m his,” I panted, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

  Fisting my hair again, he repeated, “Tell them louder.”

  “I’m his. No one else can take me, ever.” The words were liberating as my hips once again banged against the shiny table and his thick, hard cock plunged in and out of me. I bit my lip to stop my screams as each thrust hit harder than the one before: dominating and claiming. Brody’s upper body pushed forward, splaying me across the surface of the table and sending everything to the floor: the vases, the flowers, and Stewart’s ashes.

  The road before me came back into focus as I squirmed in my seat, blinked repeatedly, and shook my head. Damn! I wonder what Val’s counselor would think of that little fantasy. He or she would probably have a field day with it. I didn’t want to think about any part of it, other than the obvious. I wanted sex, and I wanted it now.

  When I pulled up to the motel, my suspicions were confirmed. This wasn’t our normal type of establishment. This was small, secluded, and the rooms had doors directly to the outside. I looked both directions and saw nothing, not even Brody’s car. Only a few other cars were in the poorly lit parking lot. Honestly, I didn’t give a damn that it wasn’t palatial.

  Opening the door to the car, I inhaled the cooler evening air, listened to the hum of traffic from the interstate above, and concentrated on my fantasy. A smile graced my lips as I realized that I wanted to scream out like the prostitutes who frequented this establishment. No longer was I Stewart’s whore. Now I could choose, and tonight I chose to be fucked.

  I turned off my phone. No one was interrupting my plans.

  Before the light from Val’s headlights dimmed, the door to room number 8 cracked open, and I slipped from the car and walked briskly into the motel. Flickers of light caught my attention as hundreds of candles burned throughout the darkened room. Before I could truly look around, the door closed and the chest I’d fantasized about pinned me against the wall, momentarily pushing the air from my lungs. Brody’s shirt was gone and though I still wore my black dress, my flattened breasts tingled from the warmth of his exposed skin.

  I couldn’t resist touching him as I ran my small hands up his firm arms. The tips of my fingers burned from his radiating heat. When I reached his broad shoulders and my eyes met his, the shimmer of candlelight in the aquamarine sent my already primed core into spasms. I gasped at the seizing of my wrists as my hands were suddenly pinned to the wall above me. Brody silently scanned my body.

  Aching for his touch, I tried to move toward him.

  “Not yet, Vik. I want to look at you, really look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful, and I want to see you as the woman you are now.”

  What did he mean? Did he know that I was now a killer?

  Releasing my hands, he said, “Give me your left hand.”

  Reluctantly, I did, and I watched as he removed my wedding and engagement rings and dropped them to the filthy, worn motel carpet. “There. Ever since that motherfucker died, I’ve wanted to do that. Hell, before. Now, I’m going to fuck you, fuck you like the free woman you are.”

  The tips of my lips rose as he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his slacks, and allowed them to fall to the carpet, somewhere near my rings. Protruding from the waistband of his boxers, the head of his erection made itself known. When I started to remove my sleek black pumps, Brody once again seized my wrists and stopped my movement. “No, you’re fucking perfect the way you are, the way you looked earlier tonight.” He leaned closer and inhaled deeply. “I could smell you at the funeral home. You fucking want this: here, now, against this fucking wall. Am I wrong?”

  Oh God! “No,” I managed. “I want it. I want it so goddamn bad.”

  “Well, Vik, you’re not getting it bad. You’re getting it good. Leave those hot fuck-me heels on.” His sultry gleam fueled the fire that still kindled from my fantasy. “And you have about two seconds to get those damn panties off or they’re mine.”

  Instead of obeying, I reached for the wall, splaying my fingers near my hips.

  His brow moved up. “I may have to reconsider. I think you do want it bad.”

  I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and I inhaled.

  “Turn around, baby, and hold on.”

  When I did as he said, he reached the hem of my dress and pulled it up to my hips. With two hands, he ripped my panties. The shreds fell down one of my legs to my ankle. Suddenly, I yelped as a firm hand struck my exposed ass. Immediately, he began rubbing the cheek, only to repeat the assault on the other side.

  “There we go,” Brody cooed. “That’s all the bad for today.”

  His touch on my inner thigh encouraged me to spread my legs and lift my ass, opening myself up for him. I closed my eyes as one and then two large fingers slid inside me, pumping in and out.

  “So fucking wet.”

  His nose nuzzled my neck as his other hand, pinched one nipple and then the other, creating a rhythm that kept beat to his fingers. With warm breath bathing my neck and his erection taunting my swollen lips, he asked, “Are you ready for the good?”

  Fucking beyond ready! “Yes, please.”

  His fingers disappeared as I heard him reach for a condom.

  “I’m on birth control,” I offered, wanting to feel his skin inside of me. “I promise, I’m clean. I go to the doctor every six months.”

  “Oh, I thought… fuck!” he growled as his unwrapped cock sunk deep inside me.

  The skin-to-skin contact created a delicious friction as the heat of his cock filled me, consuming every nerve within my body. Unknowingly, I cried out as I held to the wall, my elbows stiffening with each thrust. Brody fucked me like he’s never fucked me before, wild and unforgiving, pounding into me, filling not only my core but also my ears with the sound of his balls slapping my ass, and his heavy breathing.

  The mountain’s ledge was right there. I saw it approaching at lightning speed as he pounded faster and faster. When he once again reached for my clit and rolled it between two fingers, I no longer heard him: the small motel room filled with the sound of my own screams. “Fucking God! Brody, I’m coming!”

  “Do it, Vik. Come for me; let me hear you.”

  I closed my eyes and let myself fall, calling out as wave after wave
crashed through me. I waited for the hard reality of the ground; however, the ground didn’t come. Instead, the waves continued until my knees and elbows gave out and we both fell to the floor, a tangled mess. The only movement was his pulsating cock, still buried deep inside me.

  Brushing his stubbly cheek against mine, he whispered, “Jesus, Vik. That was fucking awesome.”

  I moaned at the loss as he slowly pulled out of me, unleashing a flood onto my thighs.

  Despite the beauty of his candles, I finally saw the dump we were in and contemplated the floor. “Brody, I think the next place for us to go is the shower.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, this carpet has probably not been cleaned…”

  Covering his lips with my kiss, I said, “That’s gross. I don’t want to even think about that.”

  Shrugging, he stood and helped me to my feet. “Assuming the shower is better, may I help you remove that dress?”

  “Well, since I don’t have any underwear to wear home tonight, I guess I shouldn’t get my dress wet in the shower.”

  “You’re not going home tonight.”

  “I’m not?” I questioned as we walked toward the bathroom.

  “No, you’re not. That smile on your face is the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. We’re going to work on keeping it there.”

  “Val needs…” I began.

  “You said that Val is off call because of the funeral. We’ll get you back to Val’s early in the morning.”

  My lips pursed together in thought.

  After turning on the water, Brody turned toward me and asked, “What? Where did that smile go?”

  “I was just thinking that I told Travis to pick me up tomorrow at Val’s. I have to go home before the funeral. I can’t be seen in the same dress…”

  “Or without panties,” Brody added with a grin.

  Blood blushed my cheeks. “That would be a tad uncomfortable.”

  “Why haven’t you fired him? Travis? I know you hate him.”