Jameson Hotel - The Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three

by Aven Jayce

“You’re wrong. You not only need fixin’, but lovin’ too.”

  I place my hands on the bathroom counter and gaze at the mirror. Shit, my forehead looks like it was hit with a baseball bat. And I’ve got drowsy eyelids too. What a fucked up day.

  “I’m tired,” she calls out. “Can we go to sleep now? Arguing with you is downright draining.”

  “Unbelievable,” I whisper. That’s it? She’s done discussing Dayne and everything else? Just like that?

  I leave the bathroom and open the door to my deck, allowing the crisp fall air to flow into the room.

  “That’s chilly.”

  “Good, you’ll have to curl up next to me to keep warm.” I lift the comforter and she crawls underneath, keeping her clothing on, but eyeing my dick as I slide in next to her.

  “I need a while to recharge,” I say. “But I’ve got other ways to get you off if you need a thrill.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sore from earlier,” she whispers. “I’ve never fucked liked that before. It was intense.”

  I apologize by weaving my legs with hers, running my toes along the arch of her foot, and massaging her back. She moans in appreciation and nuzzles her head against my chest.

  She’s really finished talking about this? Huh. This is baffling. And now she’s humming The Police song again.

  I’m her nest, shielding her from harm. But she’s the one flying in, rebuilding my walls piece-by-piece so I stay intact. Fuck, I’m thinking about nests? What a pussy.

  I sigh and stare at the open door, inhaling a deep breath before closing my eyes. My body’s dog-tired, but my mind won’t relax. I keep replaying the evening in my head. There were too many mistakes - Dayne in the truck, needing Cove’s help, Julia eavesdropping, and getting snagged on the rope then nearly drowning. Fuck, this is the sloppiest I’ve ever been. I’ll end up dead if I’m not careful... and who the hell was that woman in the sleazy motel? A random washed up porn star with my dad’s old company tat on her shoulder. To hell with her if she comes looking for Dayne. I’m not worried about her though; I just want to know who the fuck she is.

  And all of that shit is nothing compared to my biggest gaffe - the one drifting to sleep in my arms. I’m pussy-whipped and heart-hitched which has turned me into a half-wit.

  My wicked woman breathes slowly and deeply. It appears that what just happened is an everyday occurrence to her. She’s too calm. Her restfulness is disturbing. No, Julia Alison Barringer, I’m not afraid of you; I’m fucking terrified.

  BREAKFAST

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  The bed’s cold where Jules slept so I know she’s been awake for a while. I check the shower, my deck, the kitchen, and then notice the open door. She’s in my garage.

  The scent of bleach snuffs out the fresh mountain air, causing my eyes to tear as I walk down the two flights of stairs. My plan was for us to have a loud morning fuck and then eat breakfast together, but this is bullshit. I told her last night not to leave my bedroom. She’s been snooping. The bleach is kept in my laundry room off the guest bedroom, and... wait. Hell, no. Bleach?

  “For fuck’s sake,” I whisper, frozen on the stairs as she walks toward me. Her hair is in a ponytail and she’s wearing nothing but panties and a pair of bloodstained yellow rubber gloves. She swings the bottle of bleach in one hand and carries a bucket in the other, whistling a happy tune with Dayne’s blood on her knees.

  “Morning.” She nods and passes me on her way to my suite.

  Holy shit, she cleaned the blood.

  “You left a mess,” she says. “But’s it’s impeccable now. Your garage and truck are spotless.”

  I follow her into the laundry room, fully erect, and worshipping her every move as she dumps the bucket of bloody water and washes the gloves in my sink.

  “I wasn’t in the mood last night to tidy up. And didn’t I tell you to stay in the bedroom?” I ask. “What made you think you could go downstairs?”

  “Well.” She rolls her eyes. “I was curious. And if you can stick your dick in me, I think it’s okay for me to stick my head in your garage. It only seems fair. Besides, I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  “Why?”

  She gives me a glaring look like I’m an idiot. “Do I even have to answer that question? Jesus, Mark. Because you’re supposed to do nice things for the people you care about. Like, you gave me a roof over my head, so I...”

  “So you cleaned up the blood of the man I killed? Yeah, that seems equivalent. I don’t want you to be involved in this shit. It’s bad enough you know about last night, and now you’ve got blood on your hands. Literally, Jules, blood on your fucking hands!”

  “It’s too late.” She turns off the water and light then heads for my bedroom. “Nice morning wood, by the way.”

  I follow close behind, being led around like I’m some sort of submissive. This obedient boy bullshit ends now. My balls have been tucked away since our argument last night.

  “And what if I want to be involved?” she asks. “Think about it. Who in their right mind would want to spend their life doing the same boring crap each day? No offense, but I hope I’m not working your front desk when I’m sixty. I know some people get trapped. They end up doing the same shit twenty-four seven and then they die. Fuck that, what happened last night was electrifying. I felt like I was in a Quentin Tarantino film. Well, not all of it. That dream about your sister’s head in a pie was crazy dark, but it was just that, a dream.”

  “And Dayne’s blood in my garage isn’t dark? This isn’t a game you know. My guns and blades are real. This bump on my head hurts like a son of a bitch... and it’s fucking real.”

  She looks at my head with her lips tightly pursed and arched on one side then slides out of her panties and turns on the shower. “I suppose you’re right,” she says under a heavy breath. “I need to get this bleach scent out of my hair. It’s driving me nuts.”

  “Is that what’s wrong with you? You’re high on bleach fumes?”

  “No, I think I’m in love.”

  “Oh,” I blush, “so you don’t care at all that I killed Dayne?”

  “You’re still alive... that’s what I care about.”

  Steam rises and her body becomes a cloudy haze behind the glass door. I rub my eyes and let out a soft laugh, thinking about my freakishly outlandish life. “Jules?”

  “Yes?”

  She washes her neck and breasts and my hand reaches instantly for my dick. I’m surprised I didn’t cum when she walked up from the garage donning Dayne’s blood. That was hotter than Hell. I’ve never experienced anything more stimulating in my life.

  “Yes?” she repeats.

  My free hand rests on the glass as I continue jerking off; seduced by the figure being swallowed in a heated mist. Her head turns and she watches me, lathering her hair, rinsing, soaping her arms and legs, still watching, setting her hand over mine on the opposite side of the glass... and then opening the door and pulling me in by my cock a moment before I’m about to cum.

  “You haven’t a clue what you do to me.” I fight for a breath as she strokes my dick. “Fucking hell.” My head drops back.

  She moves closer, grabbing my ass and rubbing her pussy across my thigh. My legs are rigid, my abs firm, and her racing hand devoted to gifting me a temporary blackout.

  “Uh.”

  Cum lands on her stomach.

  Her hand slows.

  My legs quiver.

  Our lips touch.

  I’m dazed and winded.

  “Swoon,” she whispers, turning off the water with a satisfied grin. “That was your fastest orgasm yet.”

  “It’s your fault I have no self-control,” I pant.

  “Mine?” she laughs while toweling off.

  “Come back,” I hold out my hand, “that’s two to zero, it’s time to even things out.”

  “I’m good. I need to get some clean clothes from my room and then eat. I worked up a pretty big appetite this morning.”

>   “Exactly. You deserve a thank you.”

  She looks at me and waits.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’m waiting for you to say thank you.”

  “Come on, you know what I mean.” I shake my head. “Let me lick your pussy.”

  “You’re weak,” she calls back to me. “I don’t need to cum every time you do. A verbal thank you would’ve been nice.”

  I turn the water back on and grab the soap. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!”

  “Hey Mark?” Her head pops back into the shower room.

  “Huh?”

  “Is it okay if I eat in the restaurant, or is that too weird? Do I need to hide that I’m living here from the other employees? Should I get something from McDonalds instead?”

  “No, it’s fine. Don’t you dare eat one of those egg muffin things when I’ve got a healthy buffet waiting for us downstairs.”

  “Us? So I have to wait like two hours for you to get ready?”

  I give her the finger then finish washing my body. “Thirty minutes. I’ll meet you in your room.”

  “Great. It’s a date!”

  “No.”

  She walks out.

  “It’s not a date, Jules!” I yell after her. “We’re not sixteen!”

  And there’s her head again, making another appearance. “Then stop acting like a sixteen-year-old,” she laughs, disappearing this time for good.

  Shit, she’s playful.

  I dry off and rush to get ready, putting on my favorite black cashmere sweater, a pair of faded jeans, and a baseball cap. Going casual is the only way to hide the lump on my forehead. I’d look asinine wearing my Phillies hat with a suit. With a new switchblade in my pocket and my gun in my ankle holster, I’m ready to walk out my door.

  A hair dryer whirrs as I pass Jules’ room on my way to my other suite. It’s time to discuss a few things with my sister and brother-in-law... if they’re still around.

  I can imagine they argued last night, and knowing Cove, he would’ve insisted they pack up and head home on the first open flight to St. Louis. Only my sister would’ve bitched him out and insisted they stay to say goodbye. I know when I knock on the door that this isn’t going to be a pretty scene.

  “What?” my sister says.

  “You always say that. Sophia, open up.”

  The door unlocks and her chestnut brown eyes sparkle in the hallway light. She flashes a pretty smile, looking surprisingly well rested and perkier than she was when they first arrived.

  “You just get laid or something?”

  “Get in here.” She pulls me inside. “I was so pissed at you last night when you asked for Cove’s help, but I’m thankful he came home in one piece. And no, I didn’t just get laid. He passed out after a night of almost drinking himself to death.”

  “That figures.”

  “Thanks, by the way.” She gives me a hug, something she hasn’t done in years. “So you saved the day? Everything’s taken care of?”

  “Drunk boy didn’t fill you in?”

  “He said he couldn’t.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “Yeah, he came home, grabbed a bottle, and sat on the back deck for an hour then stumbled inside and crashed.”

  “Wake him up. I want us to have breakfast together.”

  “Really?” She spins and her short sheer skirt and black blouse float away from her fit body. “God, I’m so excited to get the hell out of here. Boys!” she calls out. “Put on a pair of shorts and let’s go for a swim!”

  “No, wait. I said I wanted to have breakfast.”

  “Are you kidding? My kids need to enjoy the rays of the morning sun and get some fresh air.”

  “Yayyy!” Two high-pitched voices bounce off the walls. Daxton and Xavier race down the stairs, stepping into swim trunks and nearly falling on their ass as they hurry to the door.

  “Fuck Soph, can’t you...”

  “Don’t!” she scolds. “Watch your mouth, Mark. I just got them to stop using that word.”

  “Yeah, like they don’t hear you and Cove swearing all day long.”

  “I love to say fuck!” Daxton laughs. “Xav, that’s my fucking towel!”

  “Fuck off!” Xavier yells as they play tug-o-war with a beach towel.

  “Thanks, asshole,” Sophia whispers while putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Come on boys, pool time.” She takes her purse and opens the door.

  “Yayyy!” They run out of the suite. “We love you, Uncle Mark,” they say in unison, flying past me like a couple of mini tornados.

  “Race you there, farthead,” Daxton says.

  Sophia looks at me then at the staircase leading to the master bedroom. “Get him out of bed and I’ll meet you in the restaurant in a half-hour. Deal?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I mumble, walking toward the stairs. “Keep an eye on your kids and come inside if you see a woman with big tits.”

  “What?”

  I stop on the landing and peer down at her. “Just be safe. We’ll talk over breakfast.”

  “I’m always looking out for them, that’s why we’re here.” She closes the door and I’m left in a darkened suite.

  My sister is a good parent. She prides herself on being the antithesis of our mother, who was both physically and verbally abusive, but more to Sophia than me. Victims of abuse often become abusers themselves and I always thought my sister would be a terrible mother. Shit, she proved me wrong. I’ve never seen her lose her cool with either of her sons. It’s surprising since she has her hands full with the two beasts. They’re not easy to deal with, especially at the age of ten. I can only imagine they’ll be worse in a few years when they’re teenagers. Fuck, she’s screwed. She wanted more kids too, but has a hard enough time keeping these two in line. Daxton and Xavier where just born devious. It was the luck of the draw. Even when they try and act loving their voices go cold. They sort of give me the creeps. And that’s coming from a guy who enjoys killing people.

  My son has problems as well, but he acts out because he feels abandoned. That’s obvious... and different.

  Maybe it’s just the age. Swearing, belching, farting, and running wild are all big fun when you’re ten. Or it could have something to do with being twins, or some kind of sibling rivalry, or... it’s a way to cope with their alcoholic father.

  Cove is sleeping on top of the comforter, wearing only boxers and snoring like an ox. I observe him for a few minutes, noticing the bottle next to the bed, the smell of body odor in the room, and his dark tousled hair. He suffers from depression. No one’s told me that, it’s just evident after observing his behavior over the past decade.

  I slip out of my shoes and lie alongside him, caressing his back until he stirs.

  “Soph, I helped your brother,” he says, completely hung over. “I’m going to hell.”

  My hand slides down his abdomen and rests over his dick. This knucklehead is so easy to tease.

  “I’m not in the mood to fuck. Start packing your shit so we can leave.”

  I roll on top of him and press his head firmly into the pillow. “Wussy ingrate. Who cares if you’re not in the mood? Don’t you think I deserve to get laid after killing Dayne last night?”

  “Get the fuck off me!” His fist makes contact with my chest and then hits me square in the jaw, swinging frantically to be released. I set him free and laugh as he hurdles out of bed.

  “Damn it, Mark, you bastard. How the fuck did you get in here? Where are Soph and the kids? What the hell time is it?”

  He stomps off and slams the door of the bathroom, swearing up a storm as he takes a piss.

  “They went for a swim,” I call out. “Get dressed so we can have breakfast.”

  “Fuck no!” He flushes and opens the door. “Why?”

  “Jesus Christ, because we’re family, that’s why. Don’t you want to shoot the shit before you race away to your enchanted little life in St. Louis?”

  “Not really.”<
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  I walk to the bathroom and lean against the doorframe, watching him stare into the mirror, sighing, and then starting to trim and shave his facial hair. His hands shake, either from the alcohol or because he needs to chill after I just scared the shit out of him.

  “You gonna look like your old self again?”

  “I only grew a beard while in your captivity. Now that I’m free, I can...”

  “Alright, buddy,” I cut him off, “I can tell you’re being an ass to cover your embarrassment. But let me tell you something. Sophia knew you weren’t man enough to take control of the situation and this time she turned to her big bro instead of her husband. Grow a pair and get over it.”

  “Your giant ego has smothered your ability to think clearly. My wife knows full well I can protect my family.”

  “Ah-huh.” I grin.

  “Mark, we’re here because we knew if anything got fucked up that someone would go to prison, and Soph said that person should definitely be you and not me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s the truth,” he says. “Sad, isn’t it? That we’d throw you under the bus to save ourselves.”

  “See, that’s disrespectful.”

  “Yep.” He gets dressed and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m assuming you’ve already told Sophia you want to eat breakfast together?”

  “She said she couldn’t wait.”

  “I bet.” He shakes his head and douses his wrists with cologne.

  “Did you ever tell the kids about Dayne?” I ask.

  “Fuck no.” I’m given a look like I’m crazy.

  “Well, one of them warned me with a flashlight the other night that I was in danger, because a split second after the flashlight turned off, Dayne’s red sight was on my chest. They must know something.”

  “I’m sure it was a coincidence. They think we’re on a primitive skills vacation.”

  I chuckle. “That’s what you told them? And primitive skills involves playing video games?”

  “They play hunting games. We did the best we could. Look, they don’t need to hear about this shit with Dayne or about your fucking father, ever. I’d hate for them to have nightmares. I told them the gunshots were an accident from a hunter. They’re innocent boys. Only a few years younger...”