To Burn In Brutal Rapture

by Nyla K

He pulls back enough to gape down at me. “Really?”

  “Yes. I would love nothing more than to just be with you all day every day. But I don’t think that’s exactly realistic,” I shrug. “I’m sure you’d get sick of me, eventually.”

  Though there’s a tiny smirk on his lips, he appears fully serious as he shakes his head with conviction. “Not a chance.”

  I touch my fingers to his lips. “What about the company? Don’t you need to work?”

  “I don’t need to do anything, Trix,” his pouty lips quirk. “I already haven’t worked in months. And to be honest, I can’t stand the idea of running that company by myself. I don’t even want to set foot in that office again.”

  His dark brows zip together in unease, melancholy lining his eyes.

  “I understand.”

  He backs himself up against one of the stone walls where there’s apparently a seat in the water, and plops down, keeping me secured on his lap. The flecks of hazy blue around his pupils are magnified in this deep cerulean lighting, and as I stare at them, I find myself wondering how I could make this work for him.

  Could we really just stay here together? Could I live with him permanently?

  As much as it may hurt, I probably need to sell my house. I’m not sure I can live there again, what with all the memories. But then, I’m not sure I’d want to live in this giant, cold, far-too quiet mansion either.

  I just want to be with him. It almost doesn’t even matter where we live, though it would be nice to start fresh in a new place…

  “What are you thinking?” Lazarus asks, shifting me on his lap and bringing my attention back to the fact that we’re naked, and there’s a very long, very solid object in between us that could probably do with some attention of its own right now.

  “Of ways to make you happy,” I purr, writhing ever-so-slightly against his erection.

  “Mmm, you already make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” His hands grip my back as he hugs me close, my breasts pressing into his chest, slipping and sliding in the water.

  A mewl escapes me at the deliciously erotic feeling of his muscles on my bare flesh, surrounding me with strength and protection.

  He’s all I have left and all I need in the world. He’s my everything.

  His lips find mine, and we kiss each other in long, drawn-out minutes of sensual tasting and teasing, touching me all over, while I do the same to him.

  And when he enters me, claiming me here in this spot where countless other women have had him before, he whispers that he loves me, and I know that I’m the last.

  He tells me with bated breaths on my skin that he’s mine, and there will never be anyone else.

  Our future is together. And now that we’ve burned away the pain of the past, it’s our time to rebuild it all, from the ground up.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Lazarus

  It’s weird to even be thinking this, because I’ve never had a home that felt particularly homey to begin with, but I’m actually nervous about leaving this house.

  I’ve become a shade of agoraphobic since Damien died. I haven’t left my home since the day of his funeral, which was like four months ago. And no, I’m not exactly afraid to leave, but if we’re being honest, I don’t really want to.

  The past two weeks here with Traci have been bliss, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Nothing but nonstop sex, cuddling, talking, laughing, watching movies in the theater and reading side by side in the library, swimming in the pool, and sitting at the breakfast bar stuffing our faces in the middle of the night.

  I can’t even believe this is the first real relationship I’ve had in my forty years of life, because it just comes naturally with Traci. It’s shocking, since society would probably deem us incompatible, because of the age difference. But with us, it just works.

  Traci is mature as hell. She’s wise beyond her years, though she does still act like an eighteen-year-old from time to time. Maybe not eighteen. Probably like twenty-five.

  This isn’t exactly something I broadcast, but when she does act her age, I find it kind of intriguing. It’s cute, because like I said, she doesn’t do it often. She’s just sweet, sassy, and funny to boot. She makes me laugh all the time, which is bewildering on its own since no woman has ever made me laugh before, aside from her mother.

  That’s probably why…

  With Traci, I have the best of Damien and Ophelia, wrapped up into one tiny, fiercely devoted and mind-numbingly sexy little package. She’s perfect. And mine.

  Yes, I have an eighteen-year-old girlfriend who lives with me, and it’s been wonderful so far. We get along splendidly, though this could just be something of a honeymoon phase. But if we’re being honest, I don’t think that’s the case.

  I’ve known Traci for eighteen years. And sure, we just started fooling around last year, and we just confessed our love for one another - well, I did for her - two weeks ago. But this thing between us has been building for quite some time, a fact I’ve been coming to terms with lately.

  Despite how little I want to leave our giant love nest of a mansion, I’m being forced out. Tomorrow Traci and I are going to Key West for three days to help Pete and Frankie host a charity event. It’s technically a Westright charity, a project Damien had set up revolving around mental health awareness for LGBTQ+ youths, but I’m ashamed to say I never put anywhere near as much time into this awesome cause as he did. It was important to him, so now it’s important to Traci, and me.

  Actually, the more she’s been talking about the event over the past two weeks, the more excited I’ve become to help, regardless of how nervous I am to leave the house. It’ll be nice to see the Dads and their Key West crew I haven’t seen in years, even though none of them know about Traci and me, so this whole thing has the potential to blow up in my face.

  I’m not ashamed to tell anyone about my relationship with my goddaughter, but Pete and Frankie are the two people whose reactions I’m mildly worried about. Traci’s their granddaughter, after all. Their dearly departed daughter’s little girl…

  Who I’ve practically been living inside for the past two weeks.

  My girlfriend. I still can’t believe it.

  I’m trying not to overthink this whole relationship thing. I don’t want to freak myself out over how little I know what the fuck I’m doing, so I’m just taking it day by day and going easy on myself. That being said, I’m finding that it’s not as hard to be in love as I always thought it would be. It’s like all the faking of shit I did when I was with Evangeline happens for real with Traci, and it’s very encouraging.

  The primary worry I have at the moment, other than having to leave the house tomorrow, is Traci being out on her own. I know that sounds insane, but I can’t help my paranoia. When you’ve lost every person who’s meant anything to you in your life, it becomes difficult to fight anxiety-riddled worry and pessimism.

  Traci left the house a couple hours ago to get her hair and nails done before we leave tomorrow, and I haven’t stopped pacing since I watched her drive away in her Audi, after having confirmed three times that her seatbelt was thoroughly latching and her Bluetooth was connected so she wasn’t tempted to look at her phone.

  I’m still freaking out. She told me I could come with her, but while I’m not ashamed of people knowing about our relationship, I don’t exactly want to be the forty-year-old who brings his eighteen-year-old girlfriend to the salon. I feel like that’s opening myself up to, at the very least, some judgmental looks.

  I let her go by herself, so long as she promised to pay extra attention to everything around her while driving, take the long way to avoid the lights on Ocean Drive, and text me when she got there and before she left.

  I know I’m being a spazz, but Traci didn’t so much as roll her eyes. She didn’t give me any looks like I was insane while I was buckling and unbuckling her seatbelt, and verifying that none of her airbag lights were on the dash. She simply nodded along to all my requ
ests, kissed me a dozen extra times, and whispered in my ear that she loves me before she left, so sweet I can still hear the words floating through my brain like a soft melody.

  That’s how I know she’s the perfect woman for me. She endures my craziness without batting an eye. In fact, I think she even likes it.

  Making my way to the library to keep myself distracted while I wait, I rifle through the shelves to pick out some books we can read on the plane tomorrow. I notice Traci’s laptop open on my desk, with some books already around it, which I investigate. Glancing over them, I see that they’re all related to business, many of them were required reads for me and Damien at NYU.

  Hmm… I wonder why she would be looking at these.

  Traci has mentioned in the past she wants to open a yoga studio someday, and I know she was extremely bummed when she had to quit her instructor job in Little Haiti to focus on her recovery. But she hasn’t mentioned anything about it in the past two weeks. Though she has been asking me an awful lot of obscure questions about Westright…

  I shake my head. This is all stuff we can talk about when she gets home. Communication is not a problem for us in the slightest, which is a huge comfort to me. I love talking to her now, especially after not speaking to anyone but myself for months.

  I go upstairs to finish packing, and Traci texts me that she’s on her way home which immediately catapults my stomach into my throat. I think I might have some sort of PTSD from the night Damien died, because I can’t stop the memories of me waiting for him to get here from attacking my brain.

  Anxiously pacing around, feeling in my gut that something was wrong.

  And then that terrible phone call…

  Jesus Christ, this is awful. I can’t lose her, too. I just can’t. I won’t survive.

  I take my phone out with shaky hands and pull up the GPS app that’s connected to her Audi. It shows me she’s only two minutes away from my gated community, and I sigh out a breath of minute relief. She’s almost home.

  Darting downstairs, I’m seriously about to go outside and stand in the driveway waiting for her, but that would seem insane. And while I definitely think I am that, I don’t really want her to see it all. Not yet, anyway.

  Before I can further consider any of these things, the door swings open in front of me and Traci comes trudging inside with bags in her hands. I gulp for a second, staring at her because first off, I’m so insanely glad she’s home, and safe. But secondly, she looks… Breathtaking.

  Her hair is all wild, flowing past her shoulders, and it’s been dyed a light brown, almost dirty blondish color. Much darker than her natural hair color, but still lighter than the black she’d been rocking for months.

  Her chin tilts up in my direction and a wide, vibrant smile crosses her lips, one that almost knocks me on my ass. I barely have time to stand there looking stupid before she drops her bags and scampers over to me, leaping into my arms.

  God, if I wasn’t a fucking goner already…

  Catching her by her butt, I hold her up while her fingers instantly go for the nape of my neck, nails gliding through the hair while her eyes stick to my lips, like magnets.

  “I missed you,” she breathes over them. My hand travels beneath the material of her dress.

  “That’s psychotic,” I rumble. “And I missed you, too.”

  She giggles an airy sound, touching those lush, delicious lips to mine, kissing gently. She still kisses me like she’s nervous I won’t want her to, and as much as it makes me feel slightly guilty, I also kind of love it.

  This is just us. We’re completely fucked. And I never want it any other way.

  Traci and I kiss ourselves dizzy, and before I know it, I’ve walked her up against the nearest wall. Her hands travel over my shoulders and chest, touching me treasuring, like she can’t believe I’m real.

  I feel the same way about her, mystifying because we’ve known each other for so long.

  “Your hair looks fucking beautiful, baby,” I breathe in between hungry kisses, twirling a wisp around my finger and tugging it until she gasps.

  “You like it?” She lifts my shirt a little. “I was worried you’d want me to keep the black.” Her fingers trace my abs, slipping to the button on my jeans.

  I kiss down her jaw and neck. “I loved the black too, don’t get me wrong. You’re always perfect.”

  “Mmmm stop. I’m going to combust,” she purrs, undoing my pants and sliding her small hand inside, grabbing my shaft while I hum.

  “Maybe it’s good we’re getting out of the house this weekend,” I chuckle as my eyelids droop, breathing unsteady at the remarkable feeling of her stroking me. “We need to be around civilization before we fuck each other to death.”

  Traci lets out a breathy laugh. “Exactly why I need to hump your brains out as much as possible before tomorrow.”

  Well, alright then. Let’s give the little lady what she wants.

  Two hours later, we’re lying on the living room floor, naked, draped in a throw blanket and surrounded by toppled furniture.

  We went pretty hard. It was fucking awesome.

  My arms surround my girl tighter as our heartbeats continue to steady. “I saw stacks of business textbooks by your laptop. You gonna read all those?”

  Traci blows a strand of hair out of her face and peeks up at me. “Yea, I’d like to. Actually, I was thinking of enrolling in Business School. Online courses, I mean. I think it would be helpful.”

  “You still want to open a studio?” I’m curious.

  “Yea. It’s my dream.”

  “It’s a great dream for you.” I move her so she’s settled with our stomachs pressed together, those wide blue eyes stuck on me. “Open a studio in Miami. I think you could do well.”

  “Maybe not Miami…” she mutters, and I falter.

  “Where would you do it if not Miami?” I gape at her while she stays quiet.

  Her eyes fall and she begins absentmindedly tracing the number 4 tattoo on my clavicle. I’ve noticed she does that a lot. She seems hypnotized by that tattoo for some reason. Her fingers drift to it automatically, especially when she’s thinking.

  “Traci…” I rumble, though my tone is firm enough to grab her attention.

  Her eyes dart up to mine, and she gives me an innocent look with those doe eyes. It reminds me of the look she used to give Damien when she was in trouble.

  Getting the same expression from my girlfriend that I’ve seen her give her father countless times over the years makes me momentarily uneasy. Until I realize I kind of like it, and my dick is hardening again.

  Jesus…

  “I don’t know yet,” Traci murmurs, then presses a soft kiss on my lips, rendering me a useless sack of tattooed muscles. I’m a goddamn sap now. Basically made up of rainbows and fairy dust, and I’m not even mad about it.

  “You know, I could teach you anything you need to know about business,” I sigh on her mouth, fully under her spell and more than content with it. I’ve given myself up to this girl. She fucking owns me. “If you want.”

  Traci pulls back enough to look at me, her blue eyes alit with excitement. “Really?”

  I nod slowly. “Yea. I could even help you get it off the ground. I mean, it’s what I do.”

  “Like a silent partner?” She smiles so bright it lights up the entire downstairs.

  “I’m not sure how silent I’ll be…” I grin, and she laughs. “But yea, basically. You’ve got the cash, and the name. Anyone in this town would sell you a space. We could even use the Westright marketing team…”

  My voice trails when I realize she’s giving me a new look, eyes wide and blinky. I’m not sure what it means, but before I can ask, she kisses me again, sucking my bottom lip in a way that almost makes my toes curl.

  Okay, maybe it definitely does.

  “I was thinking about what you said the other day,” she pulls back enough to distract me from ogling her mouth like it’s my dick’s next destination. “About wanting to hide
in this house and never leave…”

  Swallowing, I glance away for a moment. “Look, baby, I know I’ve been acting a little crazy lately. Staying cooped up in here is probably making me weirder than usual…”

  “No, Lazarus, I’ve loved being here with you,” she combs her fingers through my hair. “I love when it’s just the two of us.”

  I sigh out of minute relief. “Me too.”

  “We should keep it this way.” Her voice is soft, hesitant and a bit questioning. “Only, like, not in this house.”

  I freeze at the abrupt change in direction, curling my neck to look down at her. “What do you mean?”

  She tilts her face to mine, the oceans in her eyes holding me in place. “Let’s leave Miami, Lazarus. We’re haunted here, and we always will be.”

  She pauses to stare at me while confusion slithers through my body.

  What the fuck…?

  What is she even saying?

  Without me having to ask, she continues. “I’m not saying I want to forget them… Of course I don’t. But truthfully, I’m tired. The city is my home, but it’s held so much heartache, for both of us. I want to be somewhere new, where we can start fresh, just the two of us.”

  My gaze narrows as I consider her words. She just threw a lot at me, and I really had no idea she was thinking this way.

  But I mean… it makes some sense.

  “You want to leave Miami?” I ask quietly, my tone giving away how shocked I am. She nods slowly. “Where would we even go?”

  Her mouth curves subtly. “We could go anywhere, Lazarus. Anywhere you want. As long as we have each other, the possibilities are endless.”

  “What about Westright?” I ask, though even as the words are leaving my lips, I feel the severe discomfort that lives inside me now for my business, since my partner left me.

  The company was mine and Damien’s together. Without him, it doesn’t feel right at all. I suppose that’s why I haven’t worked in months.

  “Sell it,” Traci whispers.

  It’s interesting that she’s saying this, because I’ve been getting offers for a while. Even before Damien passed, we constantly had rich dudes asking us to partner or sell shares. But Westright was always about Damien and me. It was our baby.