by Rona Jameson
Shaking off the sudden feeling of pending doom, I hoist myself up and onto the roof. Wren’s window is ajar as I watch her favorite butterfly enter the room.
I crouch beside the window and listen.
“Hey, boy,” she whispers, her feet softly padding closer to the window. “How was your day?” I watch as she offers her hand to Tiger Lily. The butterfly flutters his wings as he moves his tiny body onto Wren’s finger. “I really hope it was better than mine.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch three more butterflies enter the bedroom. They settle with Tiger Lily and the sight of them causes me to smile. My butterfly girl. They are so beautiful and trust her to care for them. It’s as though she holds some kind of magic over them. I have no idea how or why they’ve attached themselves to her and I don’t think she does, but she will be lost without her butterflies.
The sudden flutter of wings as they take flight toward the window draws her attention to me. She only pauses for a moment before she moves to help me into the room. It isn’t until I stand to my full height and look around her room that I realize how bare it is. My eyes soon drift back to Wren and I slip my tongue between my lips as her eyes follow. Her body becomes heated and her breathing grows heavy, as does mine.
“I want more of what you did to me the other night. I want to feel that unbearable heat all over again.” She blushes heavily the moment the words leave her mouth. It makes me feel good to know she feels a deep ache too. “I want us to do what the Reverend accuses me of.”
Wait! What?
“Wren?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says with tears in her eyes.
“It matters. Did he hurt you?”
She inhales and pulls herself together. “He was about to, but he stopped himself. He accused you of touching me. I really want to do what he insinuated. Right now.”
She’s not telling me something, but with the look on her face, I dip my head until our faces are so close that I can see the ocean blue in her eyes. I gently cup her face and brush a soft kiss across her lips. “I wanted to do that all day,” I whisper, and press my lips to hers. My lips turn up into a smile before I kiss the tip of her nose. I back up a step and sit on the end of her bed. “He went out, so I figured it was safe to come in here.” I smirk. “In case you wondered.”
“I heard him leave.”
“Talking to your friends.” I smile, which slips when I watch her.
She sits next to me, and fidgets before she blurts, “I think the Reverend did something to Peter Wild.”
“What?” I rest my arms on my thighs as I lean forward, my head tilts toward Wren.
“Last night I saw him taking a shower with the hose. It was dark so he didn’t see me, but I don’t understand why he’d need to clean up outside. He’s never done it before.”
“Then tomorrow we’ll go to Peter’s place and have a look around,” I say, as though it’s a regular occurrence to go snooping around someone else’s house.
“I don’t like that idea.” She chews on her lip. “But I won’t stop worrying until I see the man for myself.”
“You really are worried about him after what he tried to do to you?”
“I’m only worried because I think the Reverend was covered in someone else’s blood. I wanted Wild away from me, not…well…dead.”
Frowning, I say, “You don’t know he’s dead.”
Was that what the Reverend and the other two men were doing last night? Getting rid of Wild.
“I have a really bad feeling a lot of stuff is going on that we don’t know anything about. I’m not sure I want to know either.”
I stay silent and lean back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “We’ll find out.” I pat the space next to me. “Lie back with me.”
The moment she does, I bring her into my arms. I feel good having her so close, and it makes it difficult for me to leave.
Glancing around her bedroom to try and think about something other than the gorgeous girl in my arms and how much I want to keep her with me, I really take notice at how bare the room is. “What did you do with the drawings I gave you?”
She smiles against my chest. “I put them up in the back of my closet so he wouldn’t see them. He wouldn’t have liked it and you have no idea how much I cherish them.”
I hold her closer. “I do know. I also know why they’re in your closet and not out in the open. You don’t have to explain anything to me about him.”
Tears hover on her lashes as I gaze at her beautiful face.
“I want to tell you, Wren.” I meet her gaze before I stare straight up at the ceiling. “I want to tell you what happened to me.”
“I’m here, Rafael. You can tell me anything, and you know I don’t have anyone else to repeat it to. I wouldn’t anyway.”
I offer her a reassuring hug. “It isn’t pretty, so just let me get it all out, okay?”
She nods against me.
I know I have to give her something else before I tell her my story. “I’m not eighteen, Wren. I’m twenty.” She pulls her brows into a frown, so I reach with my fingers and stroke them away. “I will explain later, but I need you to know my real age because I have strong feelings for you.”
“I thought you looked older.” Her eyes search mine. “Tell me your story, Rafael.” She tugs me close and kisses my lips before we settle back down on the bed.
“One of my teachers hadn’t shown up for class, so a few of us went over the back wall and ran off down the alley. I knew Mom and Dad would be angry with me, but I hadn’t wanted to stay at the school and be bullied and teased for staying. So, I went over the wall.
“We all went our own way once we were clear of the school. A few stuck together. But not me. I decided I had to come clean to my parents, so I went home. My younger brother was in a different school because of his age, plus, he was autistic and needed more help than my school could provide. He was at home sick that day, which I didn’t know at the time.
“It didn’t take me long to get home, but as soon as I walked up to the front door, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t anything in particular that stood out to me, just a feeling.
“The old wooden front door was ajar.” I smile. “My mother loved that old door and wouldn’t have it replaced. She said it was the door that made her fall in love with the house. My dad loved her and would have given her the world if he could. I loved her too. She was the only Mom I knew. My birth mother died when I was a baby. I think I told you that already.”
Wren nods.
“Anyway, Roman was her son from a previous relationship, but we loved him. He was such a loveable kid that I never once regretted having Sarah and Roman join our small family.” I sigh. “Sometimes I wish the clock would turn back to the day before so we could do something different the day they died—they wouldn’t have been home.”
Swallowing hard, I continue, “I remember opening the front door and seeing what I thought at the time was red paint. So much of it in the hallway, the walls, the floors, handprints on the cream carpet on the stairs, splatters on the ceiling. I remember thinking Mom would go nuts and kill Roman when she saw the mess he’d made.
“It didn’t smell like paint, though. I stood frozen in place when it slowly started to dawn on me that it wasn’t paint, it was blood. I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing while my heart pounded like it was going to jump right out of my chest. I fumbled with my cell phone and it ended up flying out of my hands to smash on the floor. I remember fighting the urge to run and I shouted for Mom. Seconds later, I heard a loud crash and then Mom screaming for me to run.
“The sound came from the back of the house, and without thought to my own well-being, I took off toward the kitchen. And that’s when it all happened. I was grabbed from behind by a giant of a man. Strong as fuck too. I tried to fight to get free, but his hold was too strong. At the far end of the kitchen a man was crouched over Mom who was surrounded by blood. She was on her knees. Roman was held back by another man. C
rying and shaking, also covered in blood. The men wore masks, and the one in charge waved around a fucking sword. He laughed, and went to use it on Mom, but in a split-second Roman got loose, screamed and chucked himself at Mom. I think he was trying to shield her. The sword went straight through them both. The man shouted in anger, his eyes blazed with a savage hatred.
I don’t remember much after that. I woke up in the hospital while Dad cried and held my hand.”
My stomach rolls remembering that day, but I’m relieved to have told Wren. She’s important to me, and to finally have told her the truth about my age, and about the worst time in my life, I feel as though a weight has lifted from my shoulders.
“After he pulled the sword out of Roman and Mom, the guy turned toward me. All I can remember is that damn sword and the guy’s cold voice, ‘Shitty break, kid,’ then he swung, and everything went black. They said it should have killed me, but he didn’t swing hard enough. For a long time, I could only smell blood and the sight of even a small scratch would make me physically sick. I went out of control and hung around with kids I shouldn’t have ever had anything to do with. I got the tattoos because I liked the pain that came with them.” I sigh. “But after getting in trouble one too many times, Dad intervened.” Her hand cups my chin and she brings my face down to hers. “Dad’s intervention brought us here to Port Michael. It brought me to you, Wren.”
She lets her tears fall. I use my thumbs to brush the tears away, but they flow like a faucet. She shakes her head and crawls completely into my arms before wrapping hers around my neck. “I’m sorry.” She sobs into my neck and hiccups. “I tried not to cry. But I can’t help it.”
“Let it out. I’ll keep hold of you.” I stroke down her back and it isn’t until my hand dips lower that her tears stop, and I feel a change come over her.
There is more to tell her, but I don’t want to break whatever is going on in her head right now.
I like the feeling too.
30
WREN
“RAFAEL,” I whisper. “Will you show me your tattoos?”
He stills beneath me, so I take the opportunity to sit up and straddle his hips. His eyes flare with heat as his hands land on my bare thighs, his fingers gently digging into my flesh. I smile. “You were about to show me your tattoos.” I wiggle my brows.
With reluctance he removes his hands from me and tugs his T-shirt up and off, dropping it beside us. I catch my breath at the beauty before me. The artwork is amazing, all fine black lines and shading over his bronzed skin. I reach out and trace over the lines of a dragon with my fingers. His skin ripples beneath my touch, making me bolder. I trace over the lines of the mandala art up on his chest, my fingers swirl around his hard nipples—not touching—teasing.
“Please, tell me about them,” I whisper.
His eyes fill with anger before they soften. He swallows hard. “The needle of the tattoo machine going into my skin helped to numb the pain I refused to let out. It was eating away inside of me after Mom and Roman were killed.” He pauses. “The artist saw that I fought demons, so he helped me design the masterpiece on my back.” He smiles. “A phoenix rising from ashes. It covers my entire back and the project helped me come back into the living in a way.” He touches the roses protecting his heart. “The yellow is for my mother, and the green for Roman. Their favorite colors.”
I caress over the flowers, holding his gaze. “I love how you chose to honor their memory, Rafael. You’re a good person with a body full of amazing artwork.”
He smirks, lightening the conversation. “I thought you were going to say something else about this fine body.”
I chuckle. “Hmm, you already have a big head, so I think those words can wait.” I slip my fingers under the slim, gold chain that holds a ring and a locket around his neck.
“My mother’s,” he whispers.
I hope he’ll tell me more about them one day but, for now, I don’t want the pleasure to fade. My fingers continue exploring him, and I love watching the goose bumps appear on his skin and the way his muscles move under my touch. His hands tremble on my thighs and slip under my dress to my hips. When his fingers spread over my bottom, he squeezes and brings me forward.
I gasp, my eyes closing at the sudden bolt of pressure between my legs when Rafael settles me on the bulge behind his zipper. Pleasure pulses where we touch, and I struggle for breath.
“I feel it too, Wren.” Rafael rocks me on him and hisses. “You feel good.”
“I’ve never felt like this before.” I blush. “I want you to teach me more.”
He snaps his eyes closed and moans. “You can’t be saying that to me.”
“My body feels swollen.” His eyes snap open and darken as I talk. “Like it did the day in your bedroom. When I’m close to you, I ache, and my body feels on fire.” I wiggle on his penis knowing that I make him bigger—harder. He feels good under me.
It’s my turn to moan when his hands slip into the back of my panties and he clenches my bottom. He moves me on him and there is no way he won’t be able to tell how wet my panties are. I want to make Rafael squirm under me, so I finally move my fingers those few steps and press them back and forth over his nipples. He arches and gasps, and when I pinch the hard nubs between thumb and finger, he shoots upward from the bed, his hands clenching my waist.
“Wren,” he groans, “we need to stop.”
“I don’t want to.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lock my ankles behind his back so I can rub my body on his.
My breasts feel swollen and tight, only getting relief as they rub against Rafael’s chest. His hands slip into the back of my panties again and spreads the cheeks of my bottom open, which creates more friction between my legs. I’m really sensitive there and the pressure increases in time to the fast pace of my hips as I frantically move them up and down Rafael’s penis. He feels really hard and big and I can’t stop as I chase my pleasure. I feel like something else has taken over my body and only Rafael can save me.
He wears a deep blush on his cheekbones as his breathing becomes as heavy as mine. Our lips crash together, and we kiss crazily—all teeth, tongues and lips—uncoordinated as our desperation for the other grows. I’m not sure how much time passes but I find myself on my back with Rafael looming over me.
“I want to touch you.” His chest heaves. “Will you let me, Wren? Will you let me touch you?”
“Yes. Touch me anywhere,” I beg.
Rafael chuckles as he untangles from me and tosses the dress I’m wearing up to my waist. “I want to touch you here.” I nearly jump from the bed as he presses a finger between my legs.
Wantonly, I spread my legs further and Rafael curses under his breath. “You are gorgeous.” His eyes briefly lift to mine. “Touching and wanting you in the way that I do feels right, Wren. The way you react to me drives me crazy.”
I trail a finger down his chest and dip it into his belly button. I smile slightly when his belly quivers. “I wondered how it would feel to be like this with a boy, and I always thought I’d be too embarrassed to do anything. I’m not, though. You make me feel good.” I pause. “I trust you, Rafael DeLacroix.”
“I trust you too, and I don’t trust easily…but you—” His words drift off when he bends and kisses the inside of my thigh.
My body trembles and when his lips graze my skin, heat pours into every part of my body. And then his fingers tickle up my thighs to slip into the band of my panties. My breathing heavy, I raise my hips up and feel the material being taken down my legs. He doesn’t give me time to think before he spreads my legs further apart and settles his shoulders between. He presses an arm over my hips to keep me still and then blows a breath onto my swollen vagina. His mouth is next. His lips brush over my skin before his tongue darts between. Rafael moans and starts licking and nibbling at me. I can’t think straight as my whole concentration is centered between my legs. His mouth is hot. His tongue wet. I feel something climbing higher and higher inside of me as
small whimpers leave my lips. I try to move my hips but can’t because he holds me down, and then he pushes his tongue inside of me and I burst. My body shakes from the pleasure that runs through me. It’s an explosion of fireworks, and I’m only vaguely aware of Rafael’s grunts and groans. I certainly feel the vibration between my legs.
The pleasure starts to subside, and I watch Rafael as he lifts his head and holds my gaze. He wipes his mouth on my dress as he raises himself above me. His hair is messy, sexy, and his eyes dark and sparkling into my own. I reach up and slip my hands into his hair. He sighs heavily and scoops me into his arms, holding me tightly. I wrap my legs around his hips and enjoy the feel of us together in this way. He is beautiful and sexy and makes my heart turn over with so many feelings that it wants to burst right out of my chest.
What we’ve done has been daring with the chance of the Reverend returning at any time but, for once, I don’t care. I had actually forgotten about the Reverend the moment Rafael climbed into my bedroom. All my thoughts have been on Rafael and how good he looks without his shirt on and only in black jeans. His breath against my neck reassures my racing heart that he is real and plans on going nowhere. I’m totally okay with that. I want him to stay with me and, with the way Rafael has relaxed, I’m fairly sure he has no wish to move.
In the position we are in, I feel the ridges of his back that flex and quiver as my hands and fingertips find them. I love the feel of his skin against my own. I love the way his body reacts to my touch. It makes mine come alive and I want his hands all over me. After what he has just done with his mouth, I want to feel his kiss all over.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” he whispers against my neck before he lightly bites down in the curve of my neck. His nose runs back and forth over the sensitive spot there. “I bet I know.”