And Then He: A Rogue Mountain Billionaire Novel

by Kateri Collins

  “Now your shorts.”

  He unzips his shorts and steps out of them, but he leaves his boxer briefs on. He fingers the elastic band at his waist. He raises an eyebrow, as he steps toward me. Want and desire ooze from every pore in his body.

  “Untie me.”

  He hesitates.

  “I want to savor you the way you savored me,” I whisper. He needs no more convincing. He moves to my feet and slips the rope through the knot on my right leg. He holds my ankle, while he positions a few pillows beneath my cast.

  He turns to me his brows furrowed together. “Is that okay Angel?”

  I nod.

  Then he frees my other leg. It twitches. It wants to kick and thrash, but I keep it still. I can’t do anything with my hands tied. “Now, my hands.”

  He slips the slack through the figure 8 loops and allows each arm to fall to the bed. It takes everything in my power not to fight him now that I’m free, but I know far too well what the monster is capable of.

  “Now, come to me,” I order him. “I want to see you. All of you.”

  He reveals his hard, full penis. I let out a soft groan that almost sounds like a whimper, but it’s better than the scream I really want to cry. The corner of his lip rises in the lopsided smirk that once unnerved me when I spoke to him. His strong fingers grab hold of his waist band and he removes the last piece of fabric separating his body from mine.

  I shudder as he removes his boxers. I can’t believe what I’m about to do, but I must continue my last performance. “Come to me,” I whisper.

  He climbs onto the bed and straddles my hips. My hands reach up and grab his tight ass cheeks and pull him toward me. He crawls on his knees toward my face.

  I grab hold of his penis and stroke him. He exhales noisily. I pull him closer to me, so I can wrap my lips around him. He positions himself over me, so I can suck and manipulate his head with my tongue.

  “Oh Angel, oh…,” he groans, as he pushes deeper with each thrust, “how I’ve waited for this.” Without much work on my part, ripples pulse up his penis. It won’t be long now. I brace myself, as the toxic waste blasts down my throat. I want to gag, but I swallow the sludge instead.

  When he’s finally spent, he withdraws from my mouth. “Oh Angel, you never cease to amaze me.” Before I can respond, he captures my lips. His tongue swirls around into the back recesses of my throat. Pain hammers every bone in my body, as his chest pushes against my shattered broken ribs. Blackness rims my vision, but I fight it. His spent penis grows hard against my leg. A jolt of panic rushes through me. My god, it’s not over yet. I press my hands against his chest and push. He lifts up from me.

  “Angel, is there something you need?” His legs straddle me, pinning me in place. His erection grows long before my very eyes.

  “Champagne?” I ask. “And candles?”

  “Now?” He says. “Can’t you see I’m ready for you?”

  “I want to celebrate our union…,” I push my hips up against him. “Please,” I beg, because I know he can’t resist me begging. He can’t say, ‘no,’ to me.

  He jumps off the bed. “As you wish Miss Watson.”

  As soon as he’s out the door, I push the canopy out of the way and reach down the side of the bed. My fingers pry their way into the mattress seams. I poke around until I find the cold, hard tines of the fork I hid in case he found the one in my bathrobe. I withdraw my weapon and shove it under my pillow. I listen for his footsteps. When I hear only silence, I reach back down and pull out a handful of pills.

  The floorboards creak in the hall. I slip the pills under the sheets on the side of the bed.

  “Champagne, my Angel,” he says, dipping into a bow before setting the tray across my legs—a green bottle of Dom Perignon, two champagne flutes, and a box of matches. He lights the antique silver candelabras on my night stands, the standing wrought iron pillar candle holders in each corner of the room, and the wall sconces on either side of the windows.

  A scene out of a fairy tale, but this ending will not be, “they lived happily ever after.” The lush, highly flammable silk canopy will be our death shroud as we plunge into the fiery pits of hell.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  “I imagined this very moment when I first laid eyes on you so many years ago,” he says, caressing the side of my face. His amber eyes shine in the candlelight. Tears run unobstructed down his face. “You are so beautiful my Angel, so very beautiful,” he whispers. His breath hitches, when I smile at him.

  I remember when I first saw him on stage and every nerve in my body responded to the sight of him. I remember when he came to the Diner months after the reunion and his touch electrified me. I remember when he took me climbing and made me laugh and feel free and alive with a life full of possibility. I wish this moment could last forever, but I know that it can’t. The monster doesn’t stray far behind.

  “Why are you crying Angel,” he whispers.

  “Because I’m ready to be with you, forever.”

  He unwraps the gold foil from the bottle. The bottle makes a loud popping noise as he removes the cork. My mouth waters at the sight of the bubbly liquid he pours it into the champagne flutes. He picks them up.

  “Wait,” I say.

  He pauses. Another flash of confusion and annoyance. I need to tread carefully.

  “Do you have any strawberries and chocolate? They go perfectly with champagne, and I’d like to put the chocolate on other things…” I lick my lips and wriggle around in bed exposing my boobs. He cups them with both hands and squeezes them together.

  “I can think of a few places I’d like to put it myself,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  When he disappears down the hall, I pull apart capsule after capsule and empty the contents into his flute glass. All the powder drops to the bottom. I shove my finger into the champagne and swish the powder back and forth. As I set it back on the tray, most of the sentiment settles back to the bottom.

  I pick both the glasses up and swirl his around. As the meds dissolve into the bubbly liquid, candlelight reflects off the glass. The sparkling poison mesmerizes me.

  “Guess, what I have?” He says, plopping on the bed. My glass of champagne splashes across the comforter.

  “Shit,” I hiss.

  He slams his fist down on the bed, just missing my broken leg. “Angel, I don’t ever want to hear that word out of your mouth again! Do you understand?”

  I straighten up, so the sheet falls off my naked chest. His eyes fall right to my breasts. I offer him his glass. “I’m sorry, Jeb. I promise I’ll do better.”

  He accepts it without taking his eyes off me.

  “To us.” I bring my glass to his.

  He blinks and returns to my face. “To us,” he smiles and clinks against mine. His eyes don’t leave mine as we drink. I empty my glass. Jeb mirrors my example. He makes a sour face and swallows a couple times. He glances down at his empty flute glass. White residue etches the bottom and the sides. Before he can react and realize what I’ve done, I grab it and fling it across the room. Mine soon follows. With his attention still on the broken glass scattering across the room, I push the canopy into the candelabra on the nightstand. He turns back to me, confused and surprised.

  “I want you now,” I growl, reaching for him.

  He lunges at me. I fall back against the pillow, as his strong, powerful hands wrap around my neck and squeeze.

  This is it. This is how my life will end.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  But it doesn’t.

  “Jeb,” I wheeze, “I can’t breathe.”

  He releases my throat and pulls me into a rough embrace. His nails dig into my back, as his mouth latches onto mine, and he doesn’t let go. Our teeth knock against each other in his relentless pursuit of my tongue.

  He positions himself over me and then he plunges, deep and hard. I cry out, but his mouth muffles my screams. He thrusts harder.

  I can’t tell if his violent assault is a f
it of passion or a fit of rage, but it doesn’t matter. It’ll be over soon. Bits of ash fall from the canopy.

  I arch back and reach under my pillow. My fingers wrap around the handle of the silver fork. Sharp, exacting revenge will be mine. I clutch it. In one explosive movement, I stab his exposed throat. He releases his death hold. Fury quickly replaces the initial shock and disbelief.

  I jerk the fork back and forth, until he rips my hand away and smashes it into the bed.

  Blood spurts over my face from the holes in his neck, while his violent assault tears away at the walls of my sex.

  Fire devours us.

  I beg him to stop.

  He shrieks my name.

  Until there is no difference between our screams.

  And death greets us all.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Pain is nothing to me. I walk along the endless patch of white sand, hand in hand with Cassie. A gentle breeze sends soft ripples across the crystal blue sea, the same shade as her eyes.

  “Thank you for being here,” I whisper. The bright white light makes it hard to breathe with its heat and flame, but I can’t leave without saying goodbye to my oldest and dearest friend.

  She turns to me. Her long blonde hair shines in the sunlight. Her teeth sparkle as her lips twist into a mischievous grin. “We’re not done yet.”

  The ferocious growl of an engine tears me from the beach and thrusts me back into the nightmare. An explosion shatters the side of the room. Floor boards splinter. Siding buckles. Plaster and lathe shoot inward. Shards of glass soar through the air like four thousand daggers hefted from a mighty catapult. Jeb releases a terrible, primal scream as glass, wood, and hot coals pierce his backside. Then, and only then does he withdrawal his wretchedness from my spoiled temple. Bits of charred fabric bite at my arms and legs, but still, I cry out in relief.

  Two headlights pierce through the swirling cloud of debris. I struggle to break free, but Jeb is everywhere. His arms, his legs, his chest pin me to the mattress. No matter which way I move, he’s there, spurting blood on my face and neck with every heartbeat.

  A loud horn blast disrupts the static monotony of our death struggle. Jeb stops fighting me. “My jeep?” He gasps, “How…”

  During his confusion, I raise my left arm and smash it into his head. He bats it away. All the while the horn blasts add to the insanity.

  I manage to push away from him one calculated inch at a time, but I know death will find me. His hands curl into tight claws desperate in their hunt for their prey.

  Suddenly, the room goes quiet, as if all the screams, the blasting horn, the hot tongue of fire were sucked into a giant vacuum. An eery premonitory silence.

  Cassie barrels from the plaster dust and broken glass. Her arms are heaved over her head. “Tiffani MOVE!” She hurls an ax at Jeb’s back. He shoots his arms out to stop it. As it connects with his body, he arches. His screams ricochet through the room. He wriggles and screams, trying to rid himself of the gaping wound in his side but unable to.

  Strangled gasps soon replace his screams.

  I push and manipulate his body to slide out from beneath him. Finally free, I lay on the side of the bed, unable to move. Flames devour the books and the old dry pieces of furniture, pulling the room into a towering, insatiable inferno.

  In a burning haze, she tugs me off the bed. I collapse to the floor. She pulls me up. “Come on, get up! Come on! You can do this.” I step and trip. She catches me. I stumble and fall. She lifts me back up. We race against the flames toward Jeb’s jeep. She throws open the passenger’s door. “In!”

  A loud sickening crack thunders through the room. My body stiffens in preparation for whatever hell comes next. The crystal chandelier smashes against the front of the jeep. Shattered crystals and broken lightbulbs explode on impact. Sparks and flames unite to consume everything in their path.

  I climb into the tall jeep, but I don’t have the strength to heave my broken leg in. Cassie lifts my cast and places it in the jeep, then slams the door.

  I watch the swirling plaster dust in the headlight beams. Cassie sidesteps around the chandelier on her way to the driver’s side. A pop echoes from the bed. A bedpost crashes to the floor and almost hits her. She screams and jumps out of the way.

  With her path blocked, she’s left with no choice but to shimmy across the bed. She glances at Jeb’s naked, lifeless body. Blood oozes out of his neck and his back. Flames lick his chest and legs and man parts.

  She grabs a loose board and raises it in the air, ready to stake him if he returns to life. He hasn’t moved, but the fire has found the sheets and mattress. She glances at me. I mouth ‘go.’ She slips past him, her arm poised to strike. He doesn’t move. She slides off the other side. I give her a thumbs up. She stabs at the air with her stake, demonstrating her prowess. We laugh together. Her, a few feet from Jeb, me, safely in the jeep, laughing as if we don’t have a care in the world. As if.

  He rises behind her. My eyes widen in horror. Cassie realizes what’s happening a second too late. She lifts the stake and swings it toward Jeb, but she’s not fast enough. He wraps his hands around her neck. She tries to stab him, but the angle’s bad. There’s no way to hit him without wounding herself. She tears at his hands. Kicks at his feet. Thrashes with a reserve of energy I can only assume is adrenaline. Her fingernails leave long jagged gashes across his skin. Blood seeps from the cuts, but still, he keeps pressing his fingers into her throat. She wheezes, struggling to breathe.

  “Jeb, no!!!!” I scream.

  He smiles at me, a manic, evil smile as he squeezes the life out of my best friend.

  “Go!” She mouthes to me, tears running down the sides of her cheeks. I shake my head no. Cassie will not die at the hands of this monster. I push open the door and jump out. Mind-altering pain shoots up my leg, but the cast keeps me upright. I lunge toward them. My left leg, weak and atrophied, buckles. I slam my broken arm on the hood of the jeep to catch myself, but the cast slides off the slippery surface. I clutch the metal with my fingers to gain enough purchase to swing my right leg forward. I stumble toward the headboard. My body pitches dangerously forward and I know if I go down I won’t get back up. I wrap my arms around the last remaining bedpost. A wall of heat rushes toward me as the fire discovers the pillows.

  There, on the bed, in the middle of a ring of fire, lies the ax. I dive into the blaze and grab hold of it. The handle burns into my palms. I scream out, as I charge toward Jeb. Rage consumes me.

  He sees me coming, but he doesn’t let her go. He yanks her in front of him, using her body as a shield, but he won’t get away. Not this time. I swing the ax wide like I would swing at a wide pitch just inside the box. I might not be able to hit a ball, but I can goddamn hit a fucking body.

  His eyes widen as the white-hot blade slices through his back. His fingers slide from Cassie’s neck and she falls to the floor, gasping for air.

  I watch his amber eyes with the gold and green flecks spiral around each other until life slips away from him, leaving him staring into an empty horizon.

  Many cultures believe that those who die with their eyes closed die peacefully, while those who die with their eyes open are fearful of what awaits them in the afterlife. If I was Jeb, I would be terrified.

  ONE YEAR LATER

  “Tiff, I told you that asshole was trouble,” Cassie says, before popping a cherry into her mouth.

  I push the blue umbrella to the side and take a long sip of my pina colada before answering her. “You did Cass, you were right.”

  A gentle breeze sends soft ripples across the crystal blue sea, that matches Cassie’s eyes. I glance down the endless stretch of white sand. A half dozen people in beach chairs and not a crazy person for miles and miles.

  “I’m glad he named you as his sole heir. You ought to have some perks for all you went through.”

  I tilt my chair back and let the late afternoon sun works its magic. “WE. What WE went through.”

  She
shrugs, “Tomato, toMAHto.”

  The waves kiss at my toes while the soft sand caresses the bottom of my feet.

  “After your book hits number one, you can give me your beach house as a thank you.”

  We giggle together in the lazy afternoon frozen drink euphoria.

  A shadow stops in front of me blocking my sun. “Miss?”

  “Yes?” I say, opening my eyes to a twenty something in bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt holding a round drink tray with two very large drinks with umbrellas and healthy doses of whipped cream.

  “A gentleman at the bar sent these drinks over for you.”

  At the edge of the tiki bar sits a lone man with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail, wearing a black t-shirt with angel wings. The drink curdles in my stomach. In every rational part of my brain, I know it can’t be Jeb. Jeb’s dead. I delivered the death blow myself, but still, there’s that irrational part, that broken part, that will never trust anyone from the opposite sex ever again.

  “Yes!” Cassie cheers and reaches for one of the tall umbrella drinks.

  I swipe her hand away before she can reach the drink. “Cassie, NO.”

  She stares at me like I’ve grown three eyes, a second nose, and a mustache. I eye her again. I’m not joking here. “NO.” Then I turn to the waiter and smile. “Tell him thanks, but no thanks. We buy our own drinks, now.”

  “Humph,” Cassie grumps from her chair.

  “If you want another pina colada, go charge one to the room,” I tell her. Her beach chair creaks as she stands up. “Make that two pina coladas.”