by Leah Holt
Growling, he glided an open palm down my ribs, and ran his fingers across the hem of my skirt. Shifting my dress up my waist, he gripped my hip, pushing in hard with his thumb. The thin edges of his teeth grazed my collarbone, making me shiver.
Everything that had happened suddenly didn't seem important. There was no fear, there was no threat; not here, not with him.
Flicking my panties to the side, he stroked a single finger up and down my folds, spreading my juice. Moaning louder, I drove my nails into the mattress and tore at the sheet. A rush of tingles coursed through my body as my back arched hard, bowing instantly.
Clenching the blanket with my nails, I held myself in place as every muscle trembled with violent delight over his touch.
I had lost control of myself. This man was able to manipulate me in ways I couldn't understand. His fingers made me dance, his hands made me wriggle, and his eyes. . .
Fuck, those eyes did things to me I knew I'd never be able to live without now.
“That's so pretty,” he said, his tone warm and thick as he found my clit and kneaded the swelling button. “Sing for me, Emery, don't hold it in.” Harder and faster the pad of his finger rubbed quick firm circles against my clit.
My thighs were trembling, clutching his hips, doing their best to keep me grounded. I wanted to scream for more, the words were tumbling around inside my head, but I couldn't collect my thoughts enough to let them out.
All I could do was moan louder, groan with need, coo and sigh as Porter would bring me right to the edge of cumming, only to pull away and leave me breathless, craving more.
Tearing at his pants, I rocked my hips, grinding into his hand. I couldn't wait anymore, I had to feel him inside me. If he didn't fill me with his cock right then, I knew the next move of his finger would send me spiraling into the stratosphere.
“Get these fucking things off,” I barked between inhales, trying to unbutton his pants and tear them down his legs at the same time. “I can't take it anymore.”
Biting his lip, his eyes gleamed, twinkling with satisfaction. “Is that right?” Shimmying his waist, Porter kicked his pants off, letting them fall to the floor as if they were worthless.
“Now fuck me before I lose my damn mind.” Tangling my fingers in his hair, I tugged at the roots, my patience a mere thread that was ready to break.
We didn't get fully naked, neither one of us took the time to remove all of our clothing. Because in that moment, we were both giant balls of hormones and greed. My pussy was begging to be filled, to have this ache soothed.
His cock was rock hard and angry, threatening to burst through his boxers. Porter groaned as he sat back on his knees and softly stroked his length under his briefs. “You want this?” he asked, grabbing the base.
“Yes,” I said, my voice a whisper as he started to pull down his boxers.
My eyes lit up as his cock bounced free. Thick, firm, shiny and throbbing, his dick was engorged. Palming his shaft, I ran my thumb over the crown, smearing the pre-cum that glistened at the tip.
“Take me, just fucking take me.” I exhaled hard as my clit pulsed and my belly tumbled.
I knew I should have asked about using protection, but my brain wasn't functioning properly. The thought would pop in, then get smacked away by the arousal in charge.
Just ask him. . .
Biting my tongue, I stopped the question from coming out.
Fuck it. . . I don't care, it doesn't matter.
Yes it does. Don't be so foolish.
Porter started to push his hips forward, and then he stopped, peering down at me. “What is it? What's wrong?”
Pursing my lips, I tried to smile. “I don't want to ruin what's happening right now between us, but should we. . .” Chewing the inside of my cheek, I glanced around his face. “Should we use protection?”
“Protection?” Eyeing me for a moment, I could see the wheel turning in his mind. “Oh, protection, yeah, yes, one second.” Leaning over the side of the bed, he fiddled with his pants. Popping back up after a second, he held a shiny gold wrapper. “Got it covered.” Tearing the package, he rolled the smooth condom over his cock.
Relief coated my thoughts, his reaction exactly what any girl would expect and hope for. He didn't get flustered and huffy, offended that I had asked. He was calm, agreeing without pause or trying to convince me that it feels so much better natural.
Adjusting on his knees, his hands pushed into the mattress as the tip of his cock pressed my entrance. Opening my legs wider, I felt the pressure of his crown as he slipped inside with ease.
“Mm, fuck, yes,” I cooed as my lips parted and my lids sealed shut.
Starting off slow, Porter thrust in and pulled out, each piston of his hips a little harder than the last. My pussy clenched around his shaft, hands raking his spine as he slammed my clit.
I was lost right then. Lost in the moment, lost in the feelings taking over my body, lost in him. We were all moans and heavy breaths, all hands and lips, kisses and light bites.
And that was enough for me to know there was something special about this man. It was how he made me feel, how he took his time to make sure I was alright, even while he fucked my brains out.
His eyes would scan my face, his hands would stay clear of any area he thought might be tender or sore. Porter held himself up on his forearms, refusing to put any pressure on my chest.
The only sound around us was the wet kiss of my pussy devouring every inch of his dick. Pump after pump, he threw his hips forward, going so deep I could feel him in my lower belly.
My clit was pulsing, beating in tandem with my heart, sending wave after wave of tingles through my body. They flowed through my chest, into my lungs, and around my brain as they exploded like fireworks.
With my eyes closed tight, I could see colors light up behind my lids. Bright pinks and blues, sharp greens and hot reds, it was an orgasm that swam in the blackness of my mind like the Aurora Borealis.
Slowly, I peeled my eyes open, and our gazes connected. His eyes had changed, morphing from the blackness I had seen into the prettiest shade of dark brown. There were bursts of gold, highlights of bronze and copper, each sparkle a beauty in its own right.
This man was stunning; too stunning to be so bad, and too gorgeous to be so angry. But right then he wasn't any of those things. Porter was just a man, a boy who had fallen victim to a shitty hand, and was doing what he thought was right.
He was trying to save me from his own demons.
The orgasm surged across my core, making my stomach clench, and my legs weak. Groaning, the intense pleasure coated my small frame, turning me from rigid to limp.
I had gone numb, delirious with the power this man could draw from my body. I was standing at the thin edge of a cliff, holding my arms out wide, ready to plunge into the darkness below.
Porter threw his head into the crook of my neck, biting down hard. Slipping a hand into my hair, he gripped the roots and pulled as his body stilled. His cock jerked inside my pussy, pulsing against my walls.
“God damn.” Whispering against my skin, Porter's grip hardened in my hair as his muscles relaxed. His eyes settled on mine as the very tips of his fingers barely stroked my cheek. “You ever want something so bad that you can't think about anything else until you have it?” Watching me, his fingers teased the edges of my hair, brushing it off my forehead. “Because that's what you've done to me. You made me forget my purpose, you made the world disappear.”
Strong lips possessed my mouth, taking me to a new level, a new high that I could never explain. I was floating, getting carried away by the sheer presence of the man above me.
I wasn't broken anymore, I wasn't in crippling pain that held me hostage. I was melting, bleeding from all my pores, exposing every weakness I had.
“You make me weak, Porter. In my muscles, in my legs, in every bone in my body. I can't run away from you, even if you shoved me out the door, I wouldn't want to go. Is it wrong for me to say I wan
t to be here? Even after everything, I want to be right here with you, I need to be here with you.”
Smiling, he ran his fingers across my forehead, gently touching the stitches. “That makes all of this a whole lot easier then. I can protect you better if you stand beside me, than I could if you ran from me.”
Tickling his back, I twisted my head away from his. “Will you tell me why this is happening? I know you think it's better that I don't know, but I need to know what you're protecting me from. Please, just tell me what happened so I can understand.”
Rolling off of me, he peeled the condom off his cock, and dropped it into the small trash can beside the bed. Laying down beside me, he rested his head on his hand.
His eyes darted around my face, concerned and afraid of the words he needed to use. “I want to tell you, I just don't want you to be scared.”
“I'm not scared, Porter, I want to help. Whoever it is, they don't frighten me.”
“It's not them I'm talking about. . .” Pausing, he dropped onto his back, and looked up at the ceiling. “I'm talking about me. I don't want you to be afraid of me.”
“You're never going to know if I will or not unless you tell me. Let me decide if I should be scared of you.”
Sighing hard, he stuffed his hands under his head. “I used to be a hit-man for the mob, Emery.”
“A what?”
“I killed people, a lot of people. But I'm done with that, and I have been for a long time. The problem is, those men—my boss, they want me dead. That's how it works, you don't just decide you're done and walk away. I tried to leave, and now they're after me, and anyone they think I care about. Which includes you now too.”
“But we just met.”
“They don't give a shit about that, it doesn't matter. That's why I have to protect you, that's the whole reason I took you.” Turning onto his side, Porter softly touched my ribs, tracing one bone at a time. “If I had let you go home, you'd either be dead already, or held captive as bait.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We're not doing anything. You're going to rest and get better, and I'm going to kill each and every last one of them. They've already taken so much from me, I won't let them take you too.”
“So last night, you were at the club—”
Cutting me off, he blurted out the truth. “I was hunting, but I didn't think anyone was there.”
The way he said it sent shivers up my spine. The hate had returned, the coldness revived, and growing as he thought of the men who were after him.
“And your family? They know about all this?”
“I had kept it a secret for a long time, until the night it all came crashing down. I left, I tried to hide, leaving and going invisible with the hopes that they would just move on. But, it doesn't work that way. They went after my family trying to get to me. They killed my brother, Emery, they destroyed my life. Now they have to pay.”
Scrambling to sit up, I nervously played with my fingers in my lap. “So, they know we're here, they can find us?”
“No not here, my parents moved away, they did everything they could to stay safe. But my brother wouldn't give up on me. Franco told me he had gone out one night to look for me, that he needed to know I was alright. They found him, they were waiting for one of us to make a mistake.”
“Oh my god, Porter, I'm so sorry.”
Shaking his head, he tilted to look up at me. “Don't be, it's not your place to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“I know, but that's so sad. When did it happen?”
“I took off about a year ago and went into hiding. I thought that would stop all this, I thought that if I was out of the picture, they'd leave my family alone. It didn't work that way. My brother died three months ago, and it still doesn't feel real. This all feels like a bad dream, but it's not, it's my life.”
“What happened?” Holding up my hand, I said, “I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, that was a dumb question. I'm sure it's hard to talk about.”
Pushing out his bottom lip, he shrugged his shoulder. “It's fine, I've already told you more than I had planned on. I was five when my mom met Franco. . .”
Using my hands, I turned on the bed so I could look at him as he told me his story.
He started in the beginning, about how his stepfather had been a dick, and treated him like an outcast. There was so much verbal abuse from his stepfather, it stung. I felt for him, I cried for him.
The tears rolled down my face, falling weightlessly onto the blanket and disappearing into the cotton.
How do you deal with that?
How do you keep breathing when your family hates you, and you've lost so much?
I had a new respect for this man. He was stronger than I could ever be.
Porter wasn't a man who backed down, he didn't plan on giving up.
And now he wanted to protect me.
I was lucky to have someone like him looking out for me.
Chapter Ten
Porter
Three months earlier
Ring Ring
Glancing down at my phone, I didn't recognize the number lighting up the screen. Picking it up, I hit the button and answered. “Hello?”
“Porter?” The sound of my stepfather's voice rattled my ears, forcing a cold shiver to glide up my spine. “Something's happened and I thought you should know.”
“What? What happened? Is Mom alright?” Keeping my voice steady and controlled, I waited for an answer.
My stepfather would never call me, he knew better than to even try and pick up the phone to dial my number. Hearing his voice at the other end of the speaker, I knew whatever had happened had to be serious.
Waiting as patiently as I could for him to spit it out, my heart sped up as a nervous sweat dampened my forehead. The tips of my fingers pierced the phone, pushing it harder against my ear. His silence was killing me.
If something happened to my mother, I didn't know what I would do.
There was only one feeling that I knew better than I knew myself—anger.
Anger was what made my blood flow, and my heart pound. It was the only feeling I truly understood. For too long I kept it locked up, allowing it to brew inside, to live silently, growing and waiting for the moment it could be unleashed.
If they fucking hurt her. . . If they did anything to my mother, I'll fucking kill them all.
“Well,” I snapped, balling my fist so tightly the skin on my knuckles turned ghost white. “Is she okay?”
What the hell happened? Just say it already!
“Your mother is fine, Porter.” His breathing was ragged and deep, the soft waiver in his words made me understand completely that he wouldn't be calling me if he didn't feel he was obligated to.
Sighing with relief, my body relaxed a little, re-cementing my feet to the floor. Sitting on the small couch in my apartment, I hung my head, waiting for him to continue.
Franco was quiet, his exhale loud and audible, scratching its way through the speaker. Holding on to what little patience I had left for this phone call, I calmly asked, “Then what's wrong? Why the hell are you calling me? This is really fucking ballsy of you, calling me out of the blue like this.”
“It's Zander.”
“What's wrong with Zander? Did he get in trouble? Arrested? What the hell happened?” Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose and grunted. “You know what, it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do to help, you know that.”
Didn't he understand that just picking up the phone was enough to lead them to me? Was he that fucking blind to the danger he was calling to his doorstep?
If they knew he talked to me, if they thought for a second that my family had any idea about where I was; they would all be dead.
My father growled, his voice deep and hollow. “I'm not calling for your help, Porter, that's the last thing I would ever fucking need from you. You've already fucked up enough.”
Taking in a big gulp of air, I closed my eyes, t
rying not to let him get under my skin. “Well then, what happened? What the hell did he do?”
“It's not what he did. . .” Pausing, I heard him take a sip of something, slurping against the speaker. “You know what, forget it. I was wrong to call you, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.”
The phone went dead and I sat confused, wondering what the hell was happening back home. He had called me for a reason, and yet he wouldn't actually tell me what it was.
Throwing myself back, I dug my fingertips into the back of my skull, and clutched my head. The urge to run home clawed its way through my chest, inserting the idea in my head.
I can't go back, it's too dangerous.
If I go home and they find out. . .
Fuck! What the hell did he do?
He got arrested, the fucker got himself arrested.
That was the only thing that made sense to me. Zander had done something stupid, and had gotten caught. Don't get me wrong, I was far from innocent. The both of us had been wild, running the streets and raising hell.
We used to be close, but he went his way, and I went mine. That's what happens with siblings, you eventually grow apart, changing as the world either drags you down or pushes you up.
I got into some shit that even the baddest prison asshole would probably run from. The thing was, I was actually really good at my job. I didn't blink an eye when they asked me to jack a semi or rough someone up who owed them money. And as I got better, as I got stronger and my conscience seemed to dwindle down to nothing, my jobs became darker.
I could kill any man, no questions asked. The money was good, but the notoriety was better. It got to the point that the boss would personally ask for me to make the next hit. I felt really good, I was high on the power surging through my veins.
Until the day it all changed.
I was easily swayed back then, a gullible young man who trusted too easily, and gave too much for someone who didn't care. My boss never gave me a reason before not to trust him, and I was stupid enough to think we were a family.