Echoes of Us

by S. H. Timmins

  When I'm finished, he has a strange look on his face. I ask him, "What?"

  He looks away and releases my hand. "So, you're just going to leave after it's over?"

  I open my mouth to reply but pause. I guess I never thought that far ahead. "I guess? I can't exactly stay here, can I?"

  He stands from the couch so suddenly that I jump back slightly. He spins around and stares down at me, but it's not anger that has me trapped in his eyes - it's pain. "Can I plead my case now?" I blink my eyes at him and nod my head. "I get why you want to escape this house of horrors and cut off the head of the snake, but if there's another way, would you stay here until grad? I know we've only just started mending fences and all that crap, but this is your home," he bends his head so I can't see the expression on his face when he adds, "and when you and your mom came along, it finally felt like a home for me too. I've lost everyone I ever cared about because of him: My mom when she committed suicide to escape him, then your mom when she died. Now he's forcing you to leave too. What happens to me when you're gone?"

  He finally looks up and I see the tears in his eyes, which match my own. I never stopped to consider Byron and how this would affect him. I reach out and grab his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to you caring whether I'm here or not. How can I stay in this house with him after all he's done, and all he wants to do?"

  His chest heaves as he struggles to contain his emotions. "What if there's a way to guarantee he won't touch you? What if I can make it so he's still responsible for us, but is never here? Would you stay then? With me?"

  What he's proposing sounds like a hope and a dream, and I've learned never to trust them. But what if there is a way? "I'm listening."

  His shoulders relax slightly. "You're not the only one who has been trying to find a way to ruin him. I know how to make him bleed where he'll feel it the most - by turning people against him and ruining his precious name."

  I sit up straighter. "But wouldn't that ruin your name too?"

  "Nah. I never wanted his empire or to follow in his footsteps. I plan on carving my own path and giving my name a different legacy than his. Like you, I planned on escaping to college and never looking back."

  Wow! I've had Byron pegged wrong this whole time. I can't believe how much we share beyond our mutual hatred for his father. "If that's true, will it be dangerous for you? I won't risk anyone else being hurt because of me."

  His smile is sad. "There you go being all sweet and caring, even while facing the seed of a demon. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I can see why he's infatuated with you and wants to keep you for himself. You're everything that's good and pure in this world. When your life is spent in the dark, you crave the light."

  It's very insightful and very disturbing. Maybe if I had remained the dirty and rebellious child I was when I first arrived, none of this would be happening? It doesn't matter though, because this is my reality. "You're not your father, Byron. I won't let you call yourself that. If we can make this happen, and all the truths are brought to light, I promise not to leave you. That alone should tell you that you're nothing like your father."

  He drops to his knees and grabs both my hands in his. "You mean that? You'll stay here and finish our school year?"

  I lean forward and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. When I pull back, his face is bewildered. "That's my promise."

  His face softens, and he pulls me in for a hug. He starts chuckling against my shoulder. "I can't believe you've made Cameron wait this long to bone you. He must have a serious case of blue-balls."

  I pull back and frown at him. "And I can't believe I told you that. Don't you dare tease him about it."

  He's still laughing when he replies. "Trust me, I'm not gonna bust his nuts about it. They're already suffering enough."

  A devious smile creeps across my lips. "There's something else I wanted to ask you, and this way you'll be helping ease his pain."

  He pulls back, too, and glares down at me. "I don't swing that way, sis. I don't care how well he plays football; I'm not helping him relieve his balls."

  "God, you are so gross! I don't mean you. I'm the only one who gets to ease his pain." I shake my head at him, then give him a hopeful smile. "What I need from you is a way to sneak me out of the house so I can meet him."

  "Little sis, nothing would warm my heart more than introducing you to all the perks of walking on the wild side." He stands from the floor and pulls me up with him and starts leading me in the direction of the stairs. "I'll just tell dad that you're cramping and need feminine supplies. He won't touch that one. I'll call him after I drop you off and tell him that you have a female situation and need to see Steph. When you're done scratching Cruz's balls, I'll pick you back up and bring you home. Just text Steph and let her know the plan in case he decides to check."

  I stop and stare at him in stunned disbelief. He turns around with a curious look. I ask him, "You just came up with all that on the fly?"

  He gives me a patient smile. "I've had years of having to think on my toes and lie through my teeth. Welcome to the dark side, young Padawan. With enough practice, you'll be a Jedi too."

  I laugh at the absurdity of it all and follow my Jedi Master up the stairs.

  True to his word, Victor didn't question our excuse and let us go without too much fuss. Byron played his part well and acted pissed off and disgusted at having to drive me, so our exit was smooth and painless.

  I texted Cruz about the plan and his truck is parked at the edge of a park, idling as he waits for me to exit Byron's fancy sports car.

  I click my seatbelt and reach for the door handle, anxious to have my arms around Cruz when Byron's parting words stop me. "Remember that guys like a firm grip and lots of suction. Oh, and flick your tongue on the underside of the head. We love that shit."

  I spin around in my seat and direct a very disgusted look his way. "I am NOT doing that, and I can't believe you just gave me pointers on giving my boyfriend a blow job." He has the nerve to laugh at my reaction.

  "Sis, the guy has been doing it solo with Palmella as a substitute for you. He's earned it. Don't think, just do." He gives my shoulder a nudge and points to the door.

  I roll my eyes but open the door. Before I close it, I tell him, "You and Steph should make shirts together. You have enough slogan-worthy sayings between the two of you to make a fortune."

  His eyes dance with delight. "Ah, a career of dreams for me and my future wife." He pauses and narrows his eyes at me. "What's up with her, anyway? She won't even answer a text or look my way at school."

  I shrug my shoulders. "She's fickle. It's part of her charm. You need to step up your game if you want a shot with her. Just a warning though, she's a one-and-done type of girl. There's no future there."

  He scoffs. "It will only take one time for her to change her mind. She'll beg me for more."

  "Good luck with that. Better men have tried." I shake my head at the thought of those two actually hooking up. They'd set the town on fire.

  "Tsk-tsk, dear sister. She's had the rest, but not the best." His smile is all teeth and pride.

  Jesus! "Put that on a shirt and wear it for her. I have a feeling she'd love it. You guys really are perfect for each other. Okay, I'll text when I'm done. Thanks for this."

  "You mean when he's done, right?" His look is lewd, and I don't miss his meaning.

  I slam the door and flip him my middle finger. I can see him laughing behind the wheel as he peels away.

  I walk briskly in the direction of Cruz's truck, but when his door opens, and he emerges, I'm in a sprint to reach him.

  His arms gather me to him as I launch myself at his chest and bury my face in his shirt, sunshine and grass drifting from him and soothing my soul.

  "I've missed you so damn much, Jo," he whispers hoarsely against my neck.

  I squeeze him tighter and let the negative emotions of the week fall away, leaving behind all the best feelings I have for this boy and what he makes me feel.
>
  Tipping my face up to his, I tell him, "It's been hell for me too. I'm afraid it's not going to get much better, either. I won't be able to come over for Thanksgiving with you and your dad. Victor, for the first time, wants us to have a family dinner at home."

  "It's okay. Dad will understand. There's always Christmas, right?" His hopeful smile is so adorable and sweet. I want to see that smile aimed my way for as long as I draw breath.

  "I have a feeling Christmas will be awesome this year." At least I hope it will, if this crazy plan actually works. "I can't wait to decorate a tree with you again."

  A chuckle slips from him and his eyes sparkle in the moonlight. "I'm not using that fake snow shit you loved so much when we were kids. If I remember correctly, you were also picky about where each ornament was hung."

  I giggle up at him. "Okay, no snow, but I'm not letting you clump all the ornaments in one spot and calling it good."

  "Hey, I was a kid. Gimme some credit for maturing." He winks down at me while he says it.

  I raise an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean you take your time and decorate the tree properly now?"

  He pinches my butt and I squeal. "Smartass. Dad and I have done pretty well without the Christmas Nazi telling us how to do it."

  "Christmas Nazi?" I gasp out. "I'm not that bad!"

  "Oh, so you've changed?" The look on his face says he isn't buying what I'm selling.

  Ducking my head, I mutter, "I like a pretty tree, that's all."

  His laughter vibrates between us. "So, nothing's changed then, right?" When I stubbornly refuse to answer, he kisses the top of my head, saying, "I'm glad. I wouldn't want you any other way. That's the girl who was my whole world, and I would never change her."

  Feeling bold, I whisper to his chest. "Was?"

  He's silent and I chance a peek at his face. His eyes are telling me more than his words ever could, but he tells me anyway. "You've always been my whole world, and you always will be. I'm finally complete again; heart and soul. You're my everything."

  I blink back the tears his words have caused, and a shiver shakes my body. "Cruz…"

  He runs his hands down my back. "You're cold. Let's finish this in the truck and get some heat on you."

  He takes my hand and leads me back to his truck, tucking me inside and shutting the door. Once he's in, he starts the engine and warmth blasts me from the vents.

  I sigh in bliss as the chill is chased from my skin and lift my head in his direction to thank him, but my breath freezes in my lungs. Cruz is gorgeous but bathed in the glow of the moon and the air from the vents gently playing with the hair around his striking features, he's almost ethereal.

  There's suddenly too much distance between us and I'm scrambling across the seat and straddling his lap before he can do much more than grunt in surprise. I bite my lip, then release it to say coyly, "Body heat is much better, don't ya think?"

  I watch his throat as he swallows and feel the warmth of his hands as they secure themselves around my hips. His eyes are hooded when he says, "Definitely better."

  My skin tingles and my breath quickens. I feel more alive in this moment than I have in all the moments before it. We are all alone in a deserted park, secure in the privacy of his truck, and I want to test just how brave I can be. I lean forward and ghost my lips over his cheek, moving slowly in the direction of his mouth. When I reach my destination, I tentatively lick his generous lower lip, then very gently grasp it between my teeth. His breath hisses between us and his thighs bunch and tense beneath me. I feel powerful and seductive like this, so I bite down a little harder and run my tongue over the smooth tissue between my teeth. A low moan vibrates in his throat and he shifts beneath me again, but this time to adjust the space for his growing erection.

  I smile against his lip and release it to give the upper one the same treatment. I'm barely through the torture when Cruz growls and grinds up against me. Right. There.

  The switch is flipped, and we are both fully ON.

  His lips slant and then slam against mine, hungrily claiming me and taking control. The pressure is perfection and I feel the effect coursing through my sexually awakening body. I rub my chest against his and push down on his throbbing length. He groans his approval into my mouth, and I swallow the sound with a moan of my own. My hands pull greedily against his hair while his fingers dig deeper against my waist.

  It's not enough.

  Releasing one of my hands from the clutch of his silken strands, I reach down, and grab hold of a wrist and drag his hand, along with my shirt, up where I desperately need his touch.

  Just before I have his hand where I want it, he breaks away and looks at me with wide eyes. "Jo?" The question hangs between us like an entity of its own.

  Not wanting the moment to cool and thoughts to intrude, I place the palm of his hand over my bra-clad breast and mold his fingers around the large cup. His eyes widen even more, but I'm not done. I let go of his hand to pull the fabric of my bra down - a barrier he's never breached - and the heat of his hand against my naked skin feels like a brand. A brand of belonging.

  Searching my face, he gives me an experimental squeeze, and I whimper. Still looking at my face for any sign that this is wrong, he grazes the tip of one finger against my erect nipple. I gasp and arch into his touch.

  This seems to be the signal he was waiting for.

  With a sound of surrender on his lips, he claims my mouth again as he maps the shape of my ample breast. With lips frantically working, and tongues brushing and stroking, we descend into a moment of reckless abandon. Rubbing myself against him, the friction sends shivers of excited pleasure through me, demanding I milk this moment for all I can.

  When his breath is panting, his heart racing, and his hips flexing and pumping beneath me, I know what I want and what he needs. I slip the hand that was resting against his chest down the contoured ridges of his abs and grab the button on his jeans, snapping it open.

  We both freeze, and even the air around us seems to still in a pregnant pause.

  I pull back and watch Cruz's look of stunned realization as I slide the zipper down. He gulps in a deep breath and rushes to say, "You don't have to. I mean, I'm not sure where you're going with this, but we don't have to go any further."

  Still looking deeply into his blue, velvet eyes, I reach in and grasp him in my hand. His eyes roll back slightly, and the air whooshed out his lungs in a gust. He's big and very hot, but the skin covering this part of him is silky and soft. I grip him tighter and give a slow stroke of my hand down to the base, buried further inside. His head falls back, and he moans deeply in his throat. I smile to myself, enjoying the effect this is having and the power I feel over him. I look down and my eyes are the ones widening now.

  Steph was right. Cruz is packing.

  I have no idea how many inches I'm staring at, but there's a lot of him standing hard and thick above the glove of my hand. The head is swollen and shiny, the length wide and veiny. I feel myself clench at the thought of having all that inside of me. When Steph joked about him being a stallion, she wasn't wrong.

  He jerks in my grip and I drag my fist back up to the top, watching as his stomach muscles flex above the waist of his parted jeans. Remembering what Byron said about the head, I rim the tip, then slide my hand back down. A sound of approval and satisfaction rumbles from Cruz's throat, so I repeat the motion again and again, then brazenly pick up speed.

  That's when Cruz transforms from my sweet boy to a creature of primal need.

  His hips are pumping up into my hand and his gasps of tortured pleasure echo in the confines of the truck, and steam fogs the windows. I watch the way his face scrunches and his cheeks deepen with arousal. His lips are flushed and parted as he sucks air between them, and my name is a repeated prayer whispered in the night.

  Suddenly, he stiffens beneath me and I glance down in time to see the reward of my efforts, as he ejaculates against his stomach and over my hand. I flick my eyes back up, hypnotized by
the look of euphoric bliss slackening his features and dropping his mouth open in wonder.

  It seems to take a huge effort for him to lift his head and focus his dazed eyes on my smiling face. He struggles for a few seconds, trying to find his voice. "God, Jo, that was… I don't have words for how good that was."

  Giggling, I say, "Good, but messy."

  A grimace contorts his face, and he glances down at the mess we've made. "Yeah, but in my defense, I wasn't prepared for this. If you reach over to the glove box, there should be some tissues."

  Twisting around, I stretch across to the other side and grab the tissues from the glove box, turning back and handing it to him. I grab a few for myself and we both clean ourselves in silence. Feeling a bit shy and awkward, I slide back to my side of the truck while he finishes cleaning, tucks himself back in, and does his jeans back up. He shoves all our dirty tissues back in the box and tosses it to the back seat.