His Firecracker: Sassy Girls Series

by Reynolds, Rory

  A text comes through almost instantly after his call goes to voicemail.

  Jos answer the fucking phone. You’re not in this thing alone anymore.

  I don’t even try to fight the tears anymore as they fall unchecked. A sob builds in my chest. When I finally release it, another one breaks free until I collapse back on the bed, curling up until I’m as small as I can get, feeling more alone than I ever have. Knowing that there are people out there that care about me—love me even—makes me lonelier than I ever felt during all my years of being on the run. I just can’t risk them.

  I’m jerked out of sleep by a pounding on the door. My heart pounds in my chest as I look around the room in confusion. I must’ve cried myself to sleep. The loud knocking is followed by the doorknob jiggling. I spring into action, grabbing my phone and purse and running to the bathroom where I strategically placed the second chair under the small window. It’s barely big enough for me to fit through. I’ve quietly worked the window open when I hear his voice.

  Drake.

  He came for me. Somehow, he tracked me down. My heart practically bursts with love and relief at knowing he didn’t just let me disappear. Before I realize I’ve moved, I’m standing in front of the door, ready to fling it open and throw myself into his arms. I have to scold myself for those selfish thoughts. I did this for him. To keep him safe.

  “Jos, I know you’re in there. I’m not leaving until I see for myself that you’re okay.”

  I chew my bottom lip considering my options. I could still slip out the bathroom window and find another hideout. But to what end? I have zero connections to this motel, and Drake found me within a few hours.

  “Please, firecracker,” he pleads. The desperate edge to his voice completely annihilates my resolve, and I move the chair away from the door and open it.

  Drake looks like a man on the edge. His eyes are wild, and his hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it, something he does when he’s stressed. I hardly have time to look him over because he’s striding into the room and pulling me into his arms. He holds me so tight to his chest; it’s hard to breathe. Instead of pulling away, I wrap my arms around him and hold him just as tightly.

  16

  Drake

  After five hours of wondering if she was dead or alive, I finally have her in my arms again. I swear I aged twenty years as I waited for Mack to work his magic. He finally hacked into her phone’s GPS and traced her to this shitty motel. I’m just thankful she didn’t leave town. When Chad realized Joselynn had given him the slip, thirty minutes after her shift ended, he contacted me. Her coworkers confirmed she left shortly after lunch. It was a whole six hours before we even knew she was missing.

  Unacceptable.

  It took another five hours to track her down. My girl is smart, she has her GPS turned off and uses what amounts to a burner phone. It should be impossible to trace… in theory… but the average person doesn’t have Mack. It took him longer than I had the patience for, but he finally pulled through.

  I never thought I was an imaginative man, but my mind came up with every horrible possibility imaginable as to what happened to her. I take a breath for the first time in hours having her safe in my arms. She clings to me just as fiercely as I cling to her. Long minutes pass before I relax my hold enough to look her over from head to toe.

  “Are you okay?” My voice is thick with emotion as I take in her red-rimmed eyes. She’s been crying, but otherwise looks fine.

  “I’m okay,” Joselynn whispers.

  I pull her back into my arms, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t you ever run off like that on me again. You hear?” I feel her nod against my chest, her hands tighten into fists, gripping my shirt. “I mean it.”

  “I’m sorry, Drake.” She sniffles, and I know she’s crying.

  My arms flex around her. “It’s alright, baby. Shh… Don’t cry. I’ve got you.”

  It’s as if my assertion gives her permission to break because her tears come harder and faster until she’s sobbing uncontrollably. I gently stroke her hair, murmuring over and over that she’s okay. That we’re okay.

  Once she’s gotten herself back under control, she pulls away, shaking her head. “No, nothing is okay. He—he was in my apartment. He—” her voice cracks, and I swear my heart cracks at the absolute desolation in her voice. I’ve never seen Joselynn be anything but my little firecracker. She’s showed me emotion, and I knew from the night she told me about Frankie, and what she survived at his hands that she holds untold hurts that I may never scratch the surface of… This woman in front of me is not the sharp-tongued firecracker that doesn’t give an inch.

  “Listen to me, Joselynn. Everything will be okay. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to find Frankie and you will be safe again. I promise you.” She must hear my determination because she nods, wiping her tears away.

  “What do we do now?” she asks, looking around the room. And I can almost visibly see her pulling herself together. Her spine straightens, and her eyes flash some of that fire I love so much.

  “Now we go home.”

  A pained look crosses her face for half a second before she shuts it down. “Frankie…” she shakes her head. “I can’t go home.”

  I press a fierce kiss to her forehead. “Not your apartment. I’m taking you home.”

  17

  Joselynn

  I’m not sure where Drake is taking me, all he will say is that he’s taking me home. Home is my apartment—was my apartment. I think of my little reading nook and my shelves of books. The terrible paintings I did with Lindsay at one of those places you drink wine and paint. An artist I am not. It’s all tainted now. Another thing Frankie has taken from me.

  Drake turns into a nice neighborhood. The houses that line the street are nice. Really nice. Huge two-story homes that could house ten of my apartments. Several of them have kids playing in the yards. This is obviously a family neighborhood. A nice one. Drake pulls into the driveway to a beautiful gray house with a wraparound porch. Like the others in the neighborhood, it is huge, but unlike the cold brick of the neighboring houses, this one has a southern charm that makes it look homey.

  I look to Drake with a question in my eyes.

  “Home,” he simply says.

  I turn to the house in front of us, and a warm feeling builds in my chest. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Drake bought a house. A home. And despite everything, he’s bringing me to it. My throat closes with emotion so I can only smile in response. I’m still staring at the house, taking in the black shutters and the porch swing that is rocking slowly in the breeze, when Drake opens my door and unbuckles my seatbelt.

  He doesn’t wait for me to get out, instead lifting me out of my seat and carrying me bridal style to the front door. “I can walk, you know!” I laugh. If you would’ve asked me an hour ago if I would be in Drake’s arms laughing, I would’ve called you mentally deficient. But here I am. In the man I love’s arms, laughing at his absurdity.

  “I know, but I want you in my arms. I’m not letting you go anytime soon, so you better get used to it.” He presses his lips to mine as he walks, and I melt into his kiss.

  He breaks the kiss just long enough to unlock the door and reset the alarm. “Three-five-twenty-nineteen,” he says as he enters the numbers into the keypad. It only takes me a second to realize that the code is the date we first met. Tears spring to my eyes, but this time it’s because my heart is so full it feels like it’ll burst if I don’t let the emotion out.

  His thumb caresses my cheek, wiping away my tears. “Don’t cry. It kills me when you’re sad.”

  I shake my head vehemently. “Not sad. Happy.” I laugh. “That’s crazy, right? That I’m happy when everything is so messed up.”

  “Not crazy at all.”

  Then his lips are crashing down on mine, and I find my back pressed against the door as he feasts at my lips. I kiss him just as hungrily, pouring every bit of my love into our
kiss. We kiss until I have to pull away, gasping for breath. His lips don’t leave me, though. He trails them down my neck, licking and nibbling his way down to my shoulder. I bury my hands in his hair, holding him to me as I tilt my head, giving him all the access he wants as he lavishes my neck with his kisses.

  He drops to his knees in front of me, pushing my shirt up so he can kiss and nip at my stomach.

  “Drake,” I gasp.

  A rough growl is his only response. Then he’s got my shirt and bra off, and his face is buried between my breasts. He presses light kisses to my chest. Working his way from one to the other, never moving his mouth from my skin. I shiver as his stubble rakes against my sensitive flesh, my nipple pebble, begging for attention. Drake kisses and licks every inch of my breasts, avoiding where I want him most.

  I’m practically crawling out of my skin when he finally takes one nipple between his lips and laves it with his tongue. He moves to the other nipple, sucking it into his mouth, sending a line of desire straight to my pussy.

  “Oh God, Drake… please.”

  He pulls off my nipple with a pop. “Please what, baby?”

  I yank on his hair until he stands. I pull his lips down to mine and kiss him eagerly. I break away when we are both breathless. “I want you.”

  Drake groans when I grind against his hard cock, tempting him to finally give me what we both want.

  “I need you so bad it aches. I want to feel you inside me. Please.”

  I’m sure he’s going to deny us both, again, when he just looks at me with lust-filled eyes, but then his hands drop to my pants, and he pushes them down my legs, kneeling to remove my clothes until I’m completely bare in front of him.

  “God you’re fucking soaked for me.”

  “Yes,” I moan as he presses a kiss to my mound.

  He presses on my inner thighs, and I automatically spread them, giving him room. Then his mouth is on my pussy. His tongue hot and slick against my clit as he works me to a quick orgasm.

  “I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy. Gotta get you ready, baby.”

  He pushes two fingers inside me. His mouth is back on my clit, and another orgasm washes over me… or maybe it’s the same one. The ecstasy rises until I throw my head back, screaming his name. Only when my legs are so shaky that I can hardly hold myself upright, does he stand.

  My hands reach for his belt, and I fumble with it, my body not cooperating after being tongued senseless. Drake bats my hands away and makes quick work of his pants, pushing them down until his cock springs free. It’s fucking beautiful. Long and thick. A bead of pre-come drips down his length and I’m tempted to fall to my knees and lick it away. The choice is taken from me when he grips my ass and lifts me. In less than a heartbeat, he buries himself inside me in one quick thrust. He stops when he hits the end of me, his forehead resting on mine.

  “So fuckin’ tight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Won’t hurt me,” I pant. “Please.”

  He must take me at my word because he slowly pulls himself out until just the head is resting at my entrance, then he thrusts back inside me hard.

  “Yes!” I cry out, and he does it again. And again, until he’s fucking me hard and fast.

  His hands grip my ass roughly, and I know I’m going to have bruises. Ones I will wear with pride because they are from him. I want his marks on my body. I want him to fuck me with so much passion that he loses himself inside me. Another orgasm is building, and I know this one is going to absolutely wreck me.

  When the climax crashes over me. I rip my lips from Drake’s and sink my teeth into his shoulder, needing something to anchor me to this moment as my body flies to pieces. I’m vaguely aware of Drake’s low moan as his cock twitches inside me, flooding me with heat. His thrusts slow, until he stops with his still hard length buried deep inside me.

  I feel shell-shocked as I come down from my climax. It takes a minute before I realize that once again, Drake has left his clothes on. Hiding his body from me. Within seconds, the orgasmic haze is replaced with sadness. I try to convince myself that he kept his clothes on because he was in too much of a hurry and couldn’t wait another second to be inside me… but I know better.

  He’s still hiding from me. It breaks my heart.

  How can someone fill a heart up so full it fills in all the cracks while simultaneously breaking it? I drop my legs from around his waist, instantly hating the emptiness left behind when he slips out of my pussy.

  I push him back so I can grab my clothes. I’m struggling to pull my shirt back on when Drake pulls the fabric from my hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I can’t answer. If I do, I’m going to cry again, and I’m sick and tired of weepy Joselynn. I’m not that girl. I'll never be that girl again. I forget the shirt and reach for my pants. I don’t even get fully bent over before Drake takes my face between his hands and makes me look at him.

  He’s so handsome it hurts. I love this man so much. I don’t know how I will ever survive without him. And yet, I don’t know how to live with just the pieces of himself he’s willing to give me. I have no doubt I’ve got his heart. He’s done nothing but show me how much he cares for me practically since the moment we met. If he won’t trust me with the outer shell, the part that’s only skin deep, how can I trust him with my heart?

  Can I?

  I want to. Desperately.

  “Talk to me,” he pleads. “Did I hurt you?” The look on his face is one of horror. “I knew I was too rough. I’m so fucking sorry, firecracker.”

  He pulls me into the comfort of his arms, and for a brief moment, I let myself relax against him. When I take a step back, he reluctantly lets me go. The desolate look on his face is what helps me find my voice again.

  “You did hurt me, Drake. Not in the way you think. I liked every second of what we did. Loved it.”

  He tilts his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  For some reason, his confusion infuriates me. I find myself doing something so out of character I’m absolutely horrified with myself, but I can’t seem to stop. My hands smack down on his chest, and I shove him away from me. The shocked look Drake gives me would be almost comical if I weren’t so damn frustrated with him.

  “Why, Drake? Why won’t you give me yourself? I give you everything! You forced your way into my life—my heart—and then you hold yourself apart from me.”

  “What are you talking about?” His tone is incredulous.

  “What am I talking about? I’m talking about the fact that I’m standing here in front of you completely naked, and you are completely clothed! You are hiding from me. You say you want me. Want everything with me, but then you deny me this simple thing.”

  He flinches at my words. “You think it’s a simple thing? You have no idea what you’re asking of me.”

  “I’m asking you to let me love you! All of you!” I pace away from him several steps. “I don’t give a damn about your scars. They are a part of you. No matter what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I’m not those other women who look at you with disgust. I love you.” This certainly isn’t the way I wanted to profess my love, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  “I know you aren’t like them, but—"

  I close the distance between us. “No buts. No more excuses. Let me see you. All of you.”

  I tug at his shirt, trying to rip it from his body like a crazy person. He grips my wrists. His hold is firm but gentle. He’s restraining me, but not using his immense strength to hurt me. Even so, the ghosts of my past rear up and my wrists ache from remembered bruises. My fight or flight response kicks in, and I yank my hands free, fighting against Drake. Subconsciously, I know that Drake isn’t the enemy, but I’m lost in the uncontrollable emotion that he inadvertently triggered.

  My biggest fear has been that I would freeze if Frankie came for me, somewhere in my subconscious, I realize, proudly, that I’m not that girl anymore. If Frankie comes for me, I will fight hi
m. I won’t cow to his commands. I won’t allow him to hurt me. Not anymore.

  “Hey, hey, calm down, firecracker. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Strong arms encircle me from behind, and I rear back like a rabid animal fighting for its life.

  The past and the present blur together.

  Harsh hands biting into my skin.

  Gentle arms wrapped around me.

  Cruel words.

  Whispered pleas for me to calm.

  Unforgiving hands gripping me—shaking me until my vision swims and my stomach churns.

  Soothing rocking with murmured words of comfort.

  Frankie isn’t here. I’m safe. Drake wouldn’t hurt me. He would never. All my fight flies away just as quick as it came, and I collapse into the arms wrapped around me, struggling to catch my breath.

  “That’s it, baby. Just breathe.”

  Slowly, I come back to myself. Forcing those hellish memories back into the past where they belong. I cling to Drake as he rocks me in his arms.

  “Shh… it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

  I didn’t even realize I was repeating the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over until he spoke. “I didn’t mean to—I just—I…”

  “It’s okay. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” I hate that he’s blaming himself for my freak out. It’s not his fault. The fault lies firmly at the feet of Frankie and no one else. Drake doesn’t deserve this. None of it.

  “I’m sorry, Drake. It isn’t you… it’s me. I’m a mess.” My voice is thick with regret and rough like I’ve been screaming, I very well could have been. I don’t remember.

  “You’re not a mess. It isn’t your fault. You have post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s completely understandable that you’d have a strong reaction after a trigger. I’m so sorry. I—”