Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  Ezra takes every comment, every headline like a dagger to the heart. I can feel his pain from where I sit in the empty house too far away from him.

  This morning, I called to check in, but his voicemail picked up right away. I went for a walk on the beach, taking my phone with me just in case, but nothing. Not a text or an email, nothing. I moved my pity party into the studio, hoping the music would distract me.

  My fingers pick at the strings, strumming out a hook that’s got something to it. Lyrics begin to form in my mind, and I hum a bit, fitting them to the notes like puzzle pieces snapping into place. Can’t let go. Can’t let go of the impossible.

  As easy as the melody comes, it fades away, and I groan in frustration. It’s been like this every time I try to write since he’s been gone. Just when I think I have something, it slips through my fingers. I need Ezra.

  I set the guitar in its case and head to the main house, and a flicker of light catches my eye. The fire pit in a sunken corner of the deck is roaring. Ezra’s face is lit up by the flames as he nurses a drink and sinks deeper into the outdoor couch.

  His face is flat, utterly devoid of expression, but his eyes give him away. They are wild with worry. I can almost see the cogs turning a mile a minute behind those expressive eyes.

  My heart thumps hard against my ribs, and I have to fight the urge to dive into his arms. Instead, I bite my lip and approach with caution. “Hey.”

  He inhales and blinks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Hey.”

  “Can I sit?” I ask, gesturing to the seat beside him.

  He exhales, taking another sip from the glass and shrugs. “I’m not much company right now.”

  I take a seat beside him. “Did you just get back?” He nods. “How is she?”

  He laughs, the sound hysterical and pained as a tear drips from his eye. “I have no idea. I sat in the waiting room of that place for two days, and no one would tell me a goddamn thing.”

  He looks down at the empty glass in his hand. I tip my head toward it. “How many of those have you had?”

  He looks up at me, the firelight highlighting the tips of his lashes, and I have to remind myself to breathe. “Relax,” he says, “this was only number two. I’m not drunk, and I’m not looking for the solution to my problems at the bottom of a bottle.”

  “I’d understand if you did. It’s been a tough couple of days.”

  He laughs and drops his head back, casting his gaze to the sky. “Understatement of the century.”

  “I’m sorry, Ezra,” I say, reaching out to touch him, but I pull back, thinking better of it.

  His eyes glaze over as he stares into the flame. “It’s my fault,” he whispers.

  “No,” I snap. “This has nothing to do with you. Fuck Twitter, fuck the tabloids, they don’t know who she really is.”

  He wipes at his face. “She’s right. I ruin everything I touch. She warned me, and now it’s happening just like Amanda.” He turns to me with watery eyes, and a deep fissure carves its way through my heart.

  “Who’s Amanda?” I ask.

  He sighs and sets aside the glass. “She was my girlfriend before I met Hannah.” He stares into the flames as he continues. “We met at some Grammy party. I’d just finished my first solo production project, and Amanda was there with her sleazeball manager, this guy named Griffin Richie.” I nod and rest a hand on his shoulder, but he barely notices. “I’d heard some of the shady shit about Griffin. They were talking to a couple A&R guys from Sony by the pool, and Griffin reached down and grabbed her ass. I could see her flinch from across the patio, but she didn’t brush him off. I had to do something, so I pushed him into the pool.”

  “Smooth,” I chuckle.

  “We spent a lot of time together after that. I helped her get out of her contract with Richie and did what I could to help her with the limited contacts I had, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be a star, but it wasn’t happening. We started fighting, she said I was holding her back. I was spending more and more time in the studio, and she fell in with a bad crowd, started partying, drugs, she was out of control, and I wasn’t around to stop her.”

  “That’s not on you, Ezra. Amanda made her own choices. So did Hannah. You didn’t give them the drugs. You didn’t force them to take them.”

  “But if I hadn’t been in the studio, if I had paid more attention, I could’ve—”

  “Could’ve what?” I ask.

  Pain fills his every feature, and a tear rolls down his cheek. “I could’ve saved her,” he says, nearly choking on the words. My breath catches in my throat as the weight of this loss settles over both of us.

  “I was the one who found her. Her beautiful skin had gone gray. She was just gone. There was nothing I could do.” A sob tore from his chest. “I was twenty-two; I thought I knew everything, thought she was just having fun. I missed the signs. I did the same with Hannah. I ignored the signs until they were staring me right in the face, and then I just walked away.”

  A warm tear slides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away before he can see. I lean into him and wrap my arms around his neck. I hold on tight, letting his tears soak through my T-shirt. He hesitates, then wraps his arms around my back, clinging to me, his fingers clawing at my shirt.

  “It’s okay,” I say, my voice thick and hoarse.

  He pulls away, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “If I hadn’t gotten to her in time…”

  I cup his cheek. “But you did, and because of you, she’s going to get the help she needs.”

  “She said I’ll ruin you too,” he confesses.

  “You won’t,” I tell him.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m not easily broken. What happened to Amanda was tragic, and I know you feel responsible, but she made her own choices, and so did Hannah. I hate that she put that on you.”

  Resting his forehead against mine, he closes his eyes and takes deep, even breaths. “The other night,” he says, “I—”

  I cut him off. “We don’t have to. Things got out of hand, I get it.”

  He lifts my chin, and I close my eyes, trying to swallow down the pain and fear.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispers, his breath warm against my face.

  “I can’t,” I answer just as quietly, my resolve beginning to crack.

  “Orelia, look at me.”

  My eyes fly open, his image blurred through my tears. I blink them away, and he finally comes into focus. “I meant what I said. I want you, Orelia. The whole package. Your warmth, your strength, your kindness, I need it. I need you, but this life, my life is complicated. I wish I could tell you that what happened with Hannah was an isolated incident, but there’s no telling the kind of chaos she is capable of. There is no escaping her. She will always find a way to fuck things up for me.”

  His eyes search mine, brimming with unshed tears. “I want you in my life, in my bed, in my future, but I can’t ask you to take this on. It’s too much.”

  “Then don’t ask,” I tell him. He frowns, his shoulders sagging in defeat, but he nods in understanding. I lean into him, framing his face in my hands so he can see the sincerity in my eyes. “You told me that you couldn’t risk my heart, but the truth is it’s already yours.”

  He sucks in a shaky breath, and a tear breaks free from his eye, leaving a trail down his cheek. “You don’t mean that.”

  I nod and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. “I do, Ezra.”

  He cups my cheek and tugs my lip free from my teeth, his eyes searching mine. He leans in, brushing his lips softly against mine. “You deserve better, but you need to be the one to walk away because I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Neither can I,” I whisper against his skin, “and I don’t want to.” I push forward, leaning into the kiss. He stiffens, and I part my lips, opening myself to him in more ways than one.

  I feel the moment his resolve breaks. He groans and threads his hands in my hair, pushing his tongue into my mouth. His hands move t
o my hips, and he tugs me into his lap. I give myself over to him, moaning as he wraps one arm around my back and the other hand fists in my hair as the moment heats up.

  I suck on his tongue, his taste mixing with the salty flavor of our tears as I shift to straddle his thighs. He groans when I settle my ass over his thickening cock, grinding my heat against him. We melt into each other, everything dissolving around us. In this moment, there is no Hannah Miles, no hashtags spewing lies, no reason to hold back. It’s just him, me, and the molten heat of our insatiable need for each other.

  With a grunt, he pulls away to meet my heavy-lidded gaze. “Are you sure?” he asks, giving me an out I have no intention of taking.

  I brush my mouth against his and flick my tongue against his bottom lip, before meeting his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  He watches me, holding me close to his chest. “What if—”

  I bring a finger to his lips to stop him. “I’m done playing that game, Ezra. I want this. I want you. We will handle whatever comes next,” I say, turning my head and pressing a soft kiss to the center of his palm, “together.”

  His hand slides into my hair, gripping the back of my neck, and I can see the depth of my feelings reflected in his eyes. “Together,” he whispers.

  Chapter 19

  Ezra

  I don’t know what I’ve done to earn the faith this woman has in me, but fuck if I can give her up now. My reasons for keeping my distance, while valid, were born out of fear. Fear of breaking her, of disappointing her, and eventually of losing her.

  But Orelia is different. She gives where others have taken. Faced with an impossible situation, she didn’t choose the easy path. She chose to stay by my side. I didn’t know how much I needed her until she decided to be with me regardless of the odds stacked against us.

  I pull her close and fuse my lips to hers, loving the way she tastes against my tongue. Her sweetness, the passion in her touch, the reverence… She wants me. Me, not the producer who can launch her into stardom, or the status my name can give her.

  Right now, that name means nothing. The storm brewing in the media has the power to ruin my career and hers, and still, she’s here in my arms while my carefully constructed world is set ablaze with scandal. I say let it burn.

  The need to protect her surges through me, and I tighten my hold. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t pull away, she just wraps me in her arms, clinging to me just as fiercely, showing me with her body who she belongs to.

  The moment is powerful and raw, hungry and frantic, as we devour each other. The first time, I kissed her out of desperation, my mind clouded with anger and jealousy, but tonight my head is perfectly clear. My heart beats for her and only her.

  The wind picks up, and she shivers against me. Even with the fire going, the night air blows cold. I break the kiss and run a finger over her swollen lips. The skin around her mouth is pink from the scruff on my chin, and her eyes are heavy-lidded and filled with desire. I smile, my heart swelling inside my chest. “Let’s go inside, you’re cold,” I suggest, running my hands down her sides to rest on her hips.

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she counters.

  “Let me take care of you,” I whisper, ghosting my lips over the hollow of her throat. She shivers again, but this time, it’s not the cold.

  “Okay,” she breathes.

  I lift her as I stand up, then set her on her feet and place a kiss on the end of her nose. She sighs and leans against me. I take her hand and lead her through the open sliding glass doors, turning to slide them closed behind us.

  Soft hands slide over my ribs, as she wraps her arms around my waist from behind. I exhale, my body relaxing beneath her touch. It’s like I’ve been underwater, and she is that first breath of air after surfacing.

  I spin in her arms and take her mouth, capturing her lips with mine. I can’t stop kissing her, can't stop craving the taste of her, can’t hold back the need to swallow every soft moan and keening whimper that escapes her perfect mouth.

  Turning us, I press her back against the glass. She gasps and bucks into me when her heated skin makes contact with the cold surface.

  We tangle in a mix of hands and lips and tongues. I bury my face in her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin. She arches into me, her greedy pants filling my ears as her fingers thread through my hair.

  I move to her breasts, teasing along the scoop of her neckline. She thrusts her breasts toward my waiting mouth, goosebumps spreading over her delicate skin in anticipation.

  My cock pushes painfully against my zipper as she writhes beneath my touch. The way she surrenders her body to me has me half-crazed. I’m out of my mind with lust and desire. My hands shake with the need to claim her as mine.

  Her hands snake down my chest, lifting the hem of my shirt. My dick jerks, and I suck in a sharp breath as her fingers brush against the skin just above my waistband. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and grip my cock painfully through my jeans, trying to regain control before I come in my fucking pants.

  She moves her hands up under my shirt, and I clench my stomach. She traces every ridge and line carved into the muscle. The tip of her nail flicks across my nipple, and I growl, sliding my hands around to her ass and lifting her off her feet. She squeals and giggles as I carry her into the kitchen and set her on the edge of the marble island.

  I lean my forehead against hers, panting and trying desperately to control the primal need that courses through my blood.

  “Orelia,” I groan.

  She nods, her chest heaving, hands flat against my chest. “I know.”

  I take a deep breath and run my hands up her thighs. She exhales a shaky breath as I slide my fingers beneath her top. She shivers as my fingers brush over her ribs, lifting the shirt to expose her chest and cup her breast over her bra. She arches into me as I begin to kneed her gorgeous tits. They feel fucking amazing in my hands, heavy and soft beneath my touch, her nipples so hard, they grate against my palm.

  She lifts her arms, so I can pull the fabric over her head, letting it flutter to the floor behind me. She’s incredible, eyes bright even in the dim light of the kitchen. I want to touch and taste every gorgeous inch of her soft, creamy skin so badly I hardly know where to start. I trail my fingers over the swell of her breast, circling three tiny freckles I find there. I smile, bending to trace them with my tongue.

  Tugging at the lace of her bra, I move to her perfect pink nipples. I lavish the hardened bud with my tongue, sucking it deep into my mouth before releasing it with a loud pop. She reaches behind her, unclasping her bra and letting it slide down her arms and fall to the floor with a click. My mouth waters at the sight of her naked breasts. She’s stunning, full and soft, complete and utter perfection.

  “So beautiful,” I whisper, my fingers plucking and playing with her sensitive nipples. She gasps and groans as my hunger grows. I nip and suck at her flesh, leaving behind a trail of hot pink skin in my wake.

  She tugs at the back of my shirt, and I pull away to whip it over my head. Her eyes widen as she takes in the defined muscles of my chest and stomach. The lust in her eyes makes those hours in the gym more than worth it.

  She traces a finger along the waistband of my low-slung jeans, sending a jolt straight through my straining cock. “Jesus,” I say on a moan, drawing the word out in a long, harsh breath.

  She leans into me, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth. “Touch me,” she whispers.

  I smile and push my tongue past her lips in a long slow lick. “Where?” I breathe, the question barely audible. “Here?” I brush my fingers along her jaw. “Here?” My fingers move gently down the column of her neck, making her shudder.

  “Lower,” she rasps.

  Keeping my touch feather-light, I skim over the swell of her breasts and over her straining nipples. She whimpers, her lips trembling against mine.

  “Lower,” she groans.

  I obey, caressing my fingers lightly down her stomach, circl
ing her belly button as she sucks in a sharp breath and scoots further to the edge of the counter.

  Leaning in, I flatten my palm against her stomach. Her breathing picks up, her belly rising and falling beneath my palm in rapid succession. Her panting accelerates even more as I slide the tip of my fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans.

  “Warmer,” she groans, thrusting her hips and forcing my hand further beneath the loose denim.

  Moving my lips to her ear, I suck the lobe into my mouth and nuzzle the skin just below. “Here?”

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  I remove my hand, and she whimpers at the loss of contact. Quickly, I pop the button free and pull the zipper down. She rolls her hips, and I tug the fabric over her ass and down her thighs.

  I explore the spot between her breasts and inch lower slowly, tasting her skin as I move down her soft, warm body. She squirms and writhes beneath my touch, crying out when I press my lips into her hip bone and sucking the skin between my teeth.

  She looks incredible perched on the edge of my counter in nothing but a pair of simple white cotton panties. I trail my nose along the elastic at her stomach, then down the crease between her hip and the top of her thigh. She spreads her legs wider as I make my way up the other side.

  She smells divine, the heat of her arousal near scorching through the damp fabric covering her sex. I drop to my knees, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as I slow and place a deep kiss over the drenched cotton panel covering her sex.

  “Ezra,” my name falls from her lips like a prayer as she digs her fingers into my hair. I tease and nibble her through her panties and am rewarded by gasps and cries of pleasure. When I nip at her clit, her whole-body jerks, and she tightens her grip on my hair.

  I run my hands up to her hips and grip the elastic. She lifts her ass as I rip the panties from her body. Before the damp cotton even hits the floor, I bury my face between those gorgeous thighs, sucking her swollen clit into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks as her legs clamp around my head.