by Belle Aurora
He stepped into me, reaching for my hands. “Leaving?”
When our fingers entwined, I nodded. “Yeah.”
“We’re leaving too. Hell’s just looking for Connor. He keeps disappearing on us.”
With a tight smile, I said, “Yeah, well, Connor’s always done whatever he wants, hasn’t he?”
Noah frowned down at me, his expression unreadable. Tugging on my hand, he pulled me close and wrapped an arm around me, resting his hand at the small of my back. “Emmy, about Connor—”
“Don’t,” I said it firmly and he didn’t continue.
Noah nodded, leaning down, and when his lips brushed my cheek, I pressed into him.
“Aw, you guys,” drawled Connor, and I noticeably stiffened.
Noah gently stroked my lower back. “It’s okay. I’ll walk you out.” He took my hand in his and we walked in the opposite direction.
That’s when Connor scoffed. “Wow. You really don’t like me, do you?”
My soul ached at the amused derision in his tone.
I surrendered everything to this man, everything I had to give. My heart, my virginity, my pride. Everything. And he was taunting me.
Um, no.
That wasn’t happening.
I’d been a coward for too long. It was time to grow a pair of balls the size of Texas.
“You know what, screw it.” I spun around, taking my sunglasses off, and I was seething. “No, I really don’t like you, Connor Clash.”
I saw the very moment it hit Connor because he stumbled back a step. “Emmy?” The shock on his face was incalculable.
I celebrated it and maybe that made me a bad person but that was how it was. He’d changed me, and not all for good.
Connor was a gun. I was the ammunition. Put us together and you got something lethal, a weapon capable of doing unspeakable things, more specifically to each other.
A flurry of emotions crossed him. Confusion then realization and when his eyes landed on where his friend’s hands had once rested, he slowly turned to Noah and uttered a deceptively calm, “You’re dead, Gamble.” His fists balled, the vein at his temple beginning to pulse. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Connor,” Noah started but a fist flew at his face, catching him on the jawline. Noah’s head lurched sideways. When he lifted a hand to massage his jaw, spitting out red-tinged saliva, I rushed over to him.
“Noah.” Eyes wide, my hands came up to his face and after I checked him, I turned to Connor and let out a sharp, “What is the matter with you?”
He seemed unsure about what to do, what to say, and when he took a step toward me, my vicious scowl made him pause. “Emmy, baby—”
“Don’t—” I closed my eyes in silent prayer. “—call me that.”
Connor’s lips parted as his eyes roamed my appearance then shook his head as if to clear it. When he spoke next, I wanted to take the five steps over, put my hands around his neck and strangle him.
“Holy shit, baby.” His brows arched. “You got hot.”
We were attracting a crowd. The people around us had stopped to watch the turmoil and I knew if I didn’t get out of there now, we’d cause a bigger scene than necessary. Gently, I touched Noah’s chin. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Go,” he sighed, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I’ll deal with him.”
I didn’t need him to tell me twice. My eyes landed on Connor and I took a moment to look at him, really look at him.
My traitorous body turned on me. I hated the hibernating butterflies that awoke at his hungry gaze.
When I lowered my eyes and walked away, Connor called out, “Can we talk?”
My scoff was loud. My response was louder. “Not on your life.”
Even as I said it, my soul screamed out for him.
After all this time, after all that happened, one thing was clear.
I still loved Connor Clash.
All I wanted to do was get away, a million miles away, somewhere more familiar. As I walked to the exit, I let out a deep sigh, running my fingers across my forehead. My reaction to him was upsetting.
Definitely something I had to work on.
I thought about Connor non-stop after that.
Weeks passed and I hadn’t seen the guys. We were keeping our distance after the almost brawl between Connor and Noah. Worried about Connor’s mental health, I thought about calling Noah when he got to me first. I answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” I spoke softly.
He didn’t waste time. “Emmy,” he started. “I don’t know what to do here.” He sounded worried in a way I’d never heard him. “All he does is listen to ABBA and Queen and get high. Every day, he’s worse than the day before.” What he murmured next had my heart breaking. “He’s killing himself.”
My eyes closed as I fought my emotions.
“Emmy, I need your help.” He sounded desperate.
I didn’t respond for a very long time but when I did, it was barely a whisper.
“Where is he?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Back To Black.
Connor
When I stumbled into the suite, I saw the shadowy figure sitting in the dark.
Fuck.
“I said no girls tonight,” I exclaimed as I went to the fridge and snatched up a beer, popping the top. I took a long pull before looking at the girl sitting alone and I felt like an asshole. With a sigh, I muttered, “You cool if we don’t fuck?” Shuffling over, I swayed a little as I moved to sit on the stool by the kitchenette. “How about you come over here and suck my cock, babe.”
The woman stood and from the corner of my eye, I watched her come over. I struggled with my belt and when I finally got it free, I unzipped my pants and took my flaccid cock out of my drawers.
Frowning down at the not-so-little-guy, I worked it. “Hold on.” I tried and tried to get hard but it was taking a while. I chuckled down at my open jeans. “I got a case of whiskey dick, sweet thing.” I kept pulling and pulling, harder and harder. If I pulled any harsher, I’d skin my junk.
An irritated sigh left me and I closed my eyes. “Maybe suck on it a little.”
I hope she liked the taste of sweat.
“Hello, Connor,” said a voice that I only heard in my dreams but when I opened my eyes, somebody else stood there.
My head was spinning and I tried real hard to focus on the woman. She helped me out by turning on the switch to her right. The room was lit and when I managed to focus on her, I remembered.
“Emmy.” A smile stretched my lips. “My sweet, soft Emmy.” My stomach turned and I took another pull of my beer. “Well, look at you,” I said, grinning. “You’re officially one of the beautiful people. Good for you, baby.” Another pull of beer and I couldn’t see properly anymore. The room was rotating at an alarming rate. I held onto the countertop with both hands. “Whoa. Careful. The floor is spinning again.”
My sweet baby girl, my Emmy, she didn’t look happy. “Connor, you need to shower.”
When she took my arm, I went with her. I’d fucking follow this woman anywhere.
She led me to the bathroom and I let her undress me because, shit, I couldn’t do it myself.
“And then we’ll fuck?”
She didn’t even look at me, just started the shower. “Sure, sweetie.”
Emily smiled at me and I was hers. I’d do whatever the fuck she wanted right then. “Did I ever tell you that you were the best lay I ever had?”
“No, you didn’t.”
She all but pushed me into the shower and I stumbled in. Warm water spilled over me and it felt good. I lifted my face into the spray. “Your pussy is bomb. Never had anything like it.” Was everything else moving or was I moving? “Tight. Wet. Sweet.” I growled low in my throat at the memory of how she felt around my meat.
Damn.
If heaven were a place, it’d be Emmy’s cunt.
“Yeah.” Emil
y didn’t sound impressed. “Liked it so much you wrote a song about it.”
Oh, that.
She went on. “If I remember correctly, you asked me if I thought I was special, told me I was just another Jane Doe.” I opened my eyes under the spray and watched her face closely but it blurred. “Then, rather bluntly, said to go fuck myself, because I made you wish you were dead. Remember that?” She smiled civilly. “I do.”
There was a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It made me feel lower than dirt.
I didn’t like it.
Holding onto the edge of the shower, I stuck my head out of the stall, wet hair spilling droplets onto the tiled floor. “Kiss me, Emmy.” I chased her lips but she pulled away. “I need you, baby.”
And then something miraculous happened.
My dick began to harden for the first time in months.
“Hey!” I said excitedly. “Look.” I pointed to my cock. “You did that, baby. C’mon.” I grasped her arm and tried to pull her into the shower with me. “Let’s fuck.”
But she slipped away.
“Don’t…” I suddenly seethed and in a moment of pure rage, I lifted my hand and punched the tiled wall of the stall. “Don’t run away. Not again.”
Always slipping away from me. I hated her for that.
Emily always surprised me so when she slipped a dress strap from her shoulder down her arm, I should’ve known to expect something special from her.
“Yes.” I gripped my cock and squeezed hard, my lip curling. “Take it off, baby.”
The other strap fell down her arm and when she stepped out of her dress, wearing only her sexy lace underwear, kicked off her heels and stepped into the shower, my arms went out to her.
Didn’t she know I needed her?
It was strange. Here she was in front of me, looking hotter than hell, and all I could think about was Emmy from a few months ago. Soft Emmy, in her white cotton briefs.
What was happening to me?
When she didn’t step into my arms, I sighed. She wasn’t going to make it easy for me. I wondered just how much she’d let me get away with. My hand came up to one round breast and my fingers bit into the flesh there, squeezing.
Her nipple was hard. All I wanted to do was wrap my lips around it and suck the ever-loving shit out of it. I knew how she loved her tits sucked. I was the only one who did. The noises she made when I bit at those tight little raspberry-flavored buds was something that would stay with me forever.
God, I wanted her. I wanted her so bad.
Wet and aroused, I massaged the plump globe and watched her belly contract.
Yeah.
I grinned.
She liked it.
“Connor.”
With my hand still on her, I looked up into her face. What I saw was a little confusing. “Baby,” I said softly, releasing her tit. “Why are you crying?”
Emmy took a moment. “I’m sad,” she confessed, looking up into my eyes.
I stepped into her and rubbed her arms up and down, gently. “Why?”
Whoever hurt my girl was going to pay. I’d fucking kill ‘em.
“Because…” She closed her eyes and her lips trembled. She tried again. Her whispered words shot me in the heart. “Because you’re killing yourself.” She lifted the gun and shot again. “And you’re succeeding.”
“No, baby,” I reassured her. “That’s not true.”
But then she lifted my hand, holding it tenderly.
My bloody knuckles were raw.
When did that happen?
Just now?
I frowned down at my hand. I couldn’t even feel the pain.
Emmy was shivering and her body had broken out in goosebumps. I looked to see her lips were turning blue. The water had since gone cold.
And I didn’t feel that either.
My soggy, sweet girl stood there in the cold, in her underwear, crying, all for me.
She was my wettest dream and my deepest regret.
My mind was a mess.
Maybe I did have a problem.
Naked and sobering quickly, I put my back to the tiled wall, sliding down to the wet, tiled floor. Emmy soon matched my move.
We sat there for a long while, opposite each other, and I watched her blue lips quiver as her teeth chattered audibly.
She was here for me.
She was here with me.
When she spoke some time later, her voice was hoarse. “You need to go back to rehab.”
Her makeup had started to run. Trails of blackness dripped down her cheeks.
My Emmy… she looked dismal.
I don’t know how much time passed before I replied, but my voice was equally gruff. “Okay, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rehab.
Emmy
It had been four days since Connor entered rehab for the third time in as many years. The entire drive up, I was worried he’d do something drastic like tuck-and-roll out of the car but he surprised me. He allowed me to walk him in and help him get settled.
I fretted a little.
Would he try to check himself out that very same day?
No.
Truth was, he looked too weak to even stand on his own.
But it was day four and I was allowed to visit. I was naively optimistic.
I shouldn’t have been.
I heard the commotion the moment I walked in.
“I’m done here. You hear me?” Connor yelled, “I’m done!” Something crashed, smashing onto the floor. “Let me out!”
Slowly removing my sunglasses, I went over to reception and when the nurse spotted me, she threw me a weary look. I let out a long sigh. “That bad, huh?”
“He doesn’t stop.” The nurse shook her head. “Where does he get the energy?”
Smiling sympathetically, my shoulders jerked. “He’s a rock star.”
“Ah,” came out of her mouth, like it all suddenly made sense.
The nurse handed me the book and I signed myself in, taking the visitor sticker she offered and placing it on my jacket. I was led into the recreation room and when I saw him, my stomach dipped.
Connor was a mess. His hair was greasy, he hadn’t shaved, and his face was sunken. He also looked to be in the middle of verbally assaulting an orderly. “These aren’t for me. I need you to listen to me.” He threw the pills across the room. “I don’t belong here!”
My heart sunk.
I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t expect Connor to be cured after four days but I did expect progress. And from the looks of things, he was in fact regressing.
“Connor.” He looked around but he was edgy and couldn’t focus. “I’m here.”
When his panicked gaze set on me, his entire demeanor changed.
“Emmy.” His rigid shoulders slackened and his taut jaw relaxed. “Baby.” He looked lost and when he ran at me, I let him pick me up and swing me around. He set me on my feet, wrapped his arms around me, and he was not letting go.
Oh, God.
He smelled terrible. Like sweat and vomit, and when he pulled back, I saw why.
The telltale yellow stains on his tee told me he hadn’t showered in a while. And those stains looked to be puke.
I swallowed hard, trying not to retch.
“Honey.” I smiled up at him. “When did you shower last?”
His gaze was bleak. “I-I don’t know.”
The orderly piped in, “Three days ago. He refuses to shower. He refuses to take his pills. He won’t even let us in his room to change the soiled sheets.”
“You shut the fuck up!” Connor roared at him before he calmed, taking my hand. “Emmy, they won’t let me out of here.”
“I know, sweetie.” I led him away from the orderly then kindly asked the older man, “Can you please change his bedding? I’ll see if I can get him to shower.”
The man smiled at me, handing me Connor’s pills, and I knew w
e had an understanding.
“Take these.” I handed the small white cup to Connor along with a bottle of water.
Without hesitating, he tossed the pills into his mouth, swallowed, and then sat at the small white table. “Can we go now?” He scratched almost violently at his arm.
“No, you can’t, Connor,” I explained. “Because you’re sick, honey.”
“No, I’m not.” He sounded like a pouting child.
Firmly, I told him, “Yes, you are. And this place is going to help you become well again.”
“Emmy.” He was jittery and his knee bounced a mile a minute. “I’ll tell you what I told the doctor. I’m not sick. I just need a little heroin to function. Just a bit, every day. Okay?” He looked on the verge of tears and pleaded pitifully, “Can we go now, baby? Please?”
How my heart broke for him. I wouldn’t cry. I’d save my tears for the ride home.
Instead, I smiled though I’m sure it shook. “Will you shower for me, sweetie?”
Connor looked down at himself, at his clothes, and frowned. His leg stilled. A moment later, he spoke and he did it quietly. “Okay.”
I beckoned the orderly and he escorted Connor to the showers. Waiting patiently, I stood when Connor walked back, clean and freshly shaved. He glared at the older man. “Fucking pervert, watching me shower. Fag.”
“Hey.” I was starting to get pissed off. I softened my tone when he looked at me like I physically assaulted him. “He’s just doing his job, okay? And your job is to get better so, please, let them help you.”
Connor glowered. “I hate it here.”
“Well, it’s not The Ritz.” When he looked up at me, I smiled gently. “You smell better.”
His lip twitched and then he stood, taking my hand. “C’mon.”
For a moment, I hesitated but when I saw he was leading me to his room, I went along. The orderly reminded me that I wasn’t allowed in Connor’s room, so I stood in the open doorway and watched Connor throw himself on the now-clean bed. “When can I leave?”