Five Years

by Brooklyn Knight

  I relaxed a little.

  “May I have this dance?” the axe murderer requested.

  Not Maverick’s voice either. Maverick’s tone was rich and silky. This guy’s was gravelly. Definitely a good thing.

  I smiled and started moving my hips. “Sure,” I agreed, “but didn’t you know? Little Red Riding Hood doesn’t like scary, intimidating men.”

  The stranger released a throaty laugh and took me by the waist.

  “I won’t hurt you, unless you want me to,” he murmured.

  We moved to the rhythm and I looked back at the wolf, who was still staring at me. A grimace was plastered over his made-up face.

  Good!

  The axe murderer and I danced for three songs, and by the time the fourth one kicked in, I was loose and carefree. I had no idea who the axe murderer was, but I was having a good time, which was something I hadn’t even considered a possibility.

  Michael Jackson’s Thriller was blasting through the house speakers, and the axe murderer was trying to do one of the signature moves.

  I burst into laughter. “It so doesn’t go like that,” I informed him with a flick of my shoulder cape. I got into position and raised my clawed hands into the air. Then, with ease, I pivoted from side to side.

  The axe murderer grinned. “Someone’s been practicing!”

  “I’m ashamed to admit that I know the dance, probably better than Michael himself, God rest his soul.”

  I pivoted to the left and then the right and took the requisite funky steps forward.

  Everyone cheered and whooped. All eyes were on me.

  “Get ‘em, Mary!” Nichola cried out.

  I pivoted again, from left to right; but when I turned to the left, I was face to face with Count Dracula.

  In the movies, the original Count Dracula was gaunt, with a long face and hands to match. Razor-sharp, jagged teeth protruded from his mouth. Over time, The Count had become more alluring, sexy even, with hair slicked back to denote a certain elegance and charm.

  But the hell if this Count wasn’t the sexiest red-haired Dracula I had ever seen in my entire life.

  I was frozen on the spot, held captive by the brown, glittering eyes that scorched me from behind the white make up. Desire dripped off every inch of him, including the two short fangs hanging below his lip. It curled around my body, starting at my toes and arriving at my neck, until I thought I would choke. My pulse thumped in my neck.

  My hands were still raised, but Dracula slowly threaded his fingers between mine, then he bent his mouth to my ear and whispered. “Happy twenty-four monthversary, Mary.”

  18

  Maverick

  The words were no less than a desperate whisper. Amaris had avoided me for the better part of twelve weeks. Despite the calls and text messages, she hadn’t responded, reducing me to an anxious, distressed mess.

  I called Blaine earlier today, looking for confirmation that she would be here tonight.

  He’d said he wasn’t sure.

  My temple pulsed as I commanded him to ask Nichola.

  Nichola had called Amaris, gotten the word, and called Blaine back, who’d then called me with the final report.

  And now I was standing in front of her, fingers laced through her slender ones, aching to put my mouth on her.

  I had been watching her all night from my perch in the corner of the room, consuming her with hungry eyes, mesmerized by the glorious display of her body.

  Goddamn, Amaris.

  That fucking red skirt was useless at covering her ass. I could see her plump cheeks, peeping beneath the edge. She was wearing a shoulder cape with a hood that did its best to cover her unruly curls. And she had on racy thigh-high stockings, with cute bows adorning the spot just above her knees. And the bustier…

  Thank God the Two-Year mark arrived in – I’d cut my eyes to the majestic grandfather clock stationed across the room – forty-five minutes, because the way my cock was pulsating beneath my pants, there was no way I could wait much longer for the much anticipated date.

  Our twenty-four monthversary.

  At the five-minute mark, enough was enough.

  I stalked towards her, stole her away from the lame-ass axe-murderer and pulled her into my waiting arms.

  “Happy twenty-four monthversary, Mary.” Without hesitation I lowered my face to hers. I slipped the hood off her head and her curls fell free. I fingered the ones on the back of her neck before dropping my mouth to her throat, per the tradition. The faux fangs grazed her skin and she shuddered beneath me.

  “Oh, Maverick…” she mewed. The sound of her whimpers was music to my ears. How many times had I dreamed about hearing her say my name, just like that?

  Amaris threw her arms around my neck as I sucked on her supple skin.

  I slid my tongue along her throat, up under the crest of her chin, and didn’t stop until my mouth was on hers.

  Her eyes rolled to a close.

  I took her with slow, passionate thrusts of my tongue. She had to know how badly I wanted her. She had to sense my raw desire, scorching her to the bone. If there’d been any doubt in her mind before tonight, I’d erase it.

  Amaris released another sigh deep into my throat before placing her hands on my chest and creating distance, but I took the length of her arm and drew her back to me.

  Her breasts crushed against my chest and her skirt rode up a little.

  “That’s enough, Drac,” she whispered, voice thick. “Maybe you forgot, but we’re not speaking.”

  “We weren't speaking,” I considered, still staring at her mouth. I could barely concentrate on what she was saying. The only thing on my mind was…

  I went in for another round.

  “Fuck, Amaris…” I muttered against her lips.

  She released a new breath and I claimed it as my own. My hand found the back of her neck beneath that curtain of silken curls and I drew her closer, deeper.

  I needed her alone.

  I swept Amaris into my arms, never once breaking the frenzied connection, and carried her outside by the pool. My hands settled on the curve of her exposed ass, and I couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze it.

  She lurched in my arms.

  Had I been the first one to touch her like this?

  Now that we were outside, the brisk air slammed into us. I set her down and wrapped my cape around her body. She leaned into me, feeding my raw desire, matching my intensity.

  I knew she was still upset.

  I knew we still needed to talk, but I also knew that, after twenty-four months, we needed this.

  Five seconds turned into thirty and that was when Amaris pulled back. Her body was heavy, as were her eyelids, and I secured her with the cape.

  I rested my forehead on hers as the weight of our passion devoured me. “I’m sorry, Mary.” I whispered. A cloak of shame weighed on me. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I never meant to upset you.”

  Her eyes closed and she turned so that her cheek was on my lips.

  I pressed a tender kiss there and let my mouth drop to her jaw, where I continued my display of undying affection. “You're nothing like my mother. You're not her. I should never have said that.”

  “I should never have said what I said either,” she admitted. “It doesn't matter how you feel about your mother. My job isn't to use what you've told me against you.”

  Yeah, that had hurt.

  She paused. “And… what you said about me having issues – ”

  “It came out wrong,” I interrupted. “I didn't mean to disrespect you.”

  “You didn’t disrespect me, Mav. You were right,” she said looking up into my face. “I’m stuck up and sterile because I’m afraid to be labeled a slut.” She looked down at her costume and I laughed. “This was not my idea, by the way,” she assured me.

  “For some reason, I knew that,” I said, “but if you think I have a problem with it, you don’t know me yet.”

  “Red and revealing.”

&nbs
p; “Two birds with one stone.” I tugged her close until her chest collided against mine and her breasts almost spilled from the cups holding them in place. “The only problem I have is seeing the way other men have been gawking at you all night.”

  “The axe-murderer?”

  “The wolf,” I added. “The zombie.”

  We burst into laughter, then after a second, a thoughtful silence enveloped us, despite the bumping beat bleeding from the walls of the house.

  Suddenly, the music cut, and Blaine was commanding everyone’s attention.

  Amaris and I looked at one another, before dashing back into the party.

  By the time we managed to push through the crowd, Blaine was on one knee in front of a gaping Nichola.

  Amaris gasped and threw her hands over her mouth, and I stared at Blaine, already proud about what I knew was going to happen next.

  “Nic…” he started, staring up into her face, “the past two and a half years of loving you has been more than I ever dreamed it would be. When I look at you, I thank God and I wonder how He ever saw fit to bless me with one of his angels.”

  He paused, swallowing back emotion.

  “I want you to be my wife, Nic,” he said. “Would you do me that honor? Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”

  Tears and mascara streaked Nichola’s face as she dropped in front of my homie and took his cheeks into her shaking hands. “Linkie, yes,” she agreed. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  The house erupted in cheers and resounding applause, and Blaine took Nichola with a kiss that gave evidence to the muse behind her art.

  And I looked at Amaris, at the way she gazed at them, her eyes shining with unshed emotion.

  She wanted that. Maybe that was something she’d been longing for. Maybe that was why she was waiting to give herself to anyone. She wanted to fall in love, get married, and have a family.

  I’d never had that. In fact, the last memory I had of my family was my father, after he’d…

  I killed the memory and pressed a kiss on top of Amaris’s curls, squeezing her close.

  When we made it to five years, I’d give her everything she wanted. I just needed her to be patient with me.

  19

  Amaris

  ~ Two Years, Nine Months ~

  Mary, have dinner with me tonight.

  I looked at Mav’s text message, wondering if he’d lost his mind, but I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face.

  Meet him for dinner?

  If there was one thing I’d noticed as the months drew on, it was that the terms of our agreement became more and more dubious with each passing day. It had started when I agreed to communicate with him via telephone more frequently after our twelve monthversary. It had now increased to the point we talked every day. All day. Whether it be by text or literal voice-to-voice conversation.

  After the twenty-four monthversary, we’d started seeing each other at out of the way locales, like random coffee shops that took forty-five minutes to get to. We’d even bumped into each other in the grocery store. Never mind that the establishment was six neighborhoods away.

  Now, he was requesting meeting up for dinner.

  I stared at the message, chewing the inside of my lip.

  Sheila knocked on the door and I shoved the phone away. She delivered a quick message and then was gone.

  The phone buzzed.

  Mary…

  I inhaled and typed: You’re pushing it, Mr. Dangerfield.

  I’m not pushing anything yet.