by S. E. Hall
“K,” I whisper, snuggling into him… because I just can’t stop myself. I’m done for tonight — unable to fight it any longer — pretend I don’t feel safe, and uplifted now that he’s here. Or deny that I can’t wait to spend tomorrow with him.
He dips his head, mouth asking for mine. “There she is, my girl. Need a kiss to go with the sweet you’re finally giving me.”
“K…” this whisper’s taken from me, lost to his lips.
Chapter 15
Sutton
I don’t waste a single, goddamn second of her defenses down, consuming her, making damn sure she feels me in her toes. Swallowing her sweet whimper, groaning in response, I burrow a hand deep in her hair, the other clutching her neck. She opens wider, plastering herself against my chest, unashamed for anyone, everyone, to see her surrender… to me. Only me. The one man who can draw out the sometimes sweet, soft side of Presley Beckett — the queen of elusiveness.
I, Sutton Ellis, give her the safety she needs to abandon her post.
Everyone is created with purpose, many of them, but one, above all others, is the purpose, the foundation, the trunk… from which all other branches stem.
It’s not insane. Premature. Or lust-fogged thinking.
It’s certainty. And whole acceptance.
My ultimate meaning is to show Presley the endless depth of hers.
I back us toward the railing, out of the light and open view, so I can touch her, pull her completely into our space, but she jerks away. Dammit, Sutton, you just had to fucking move.
And even in the face of my disappointment at the abrupt change in plans, I can’t help but admire hers. So damn gorgeous. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips and eyes wild with desire, I stare in wonder as we catch our breath; thinking how, though I’d love for her to give to me freely all the time… a treasure’s true value lies within its rarity.
“Why aren’t you at work? My dad was just bragging on you not too long ago, how you never call in, now you’ve missed two nights in a row.”
“It’s fine, I told him it was all your fault.”
“Shouldn’t have, he won’t believe it.”
“You’re probly right. Good thing I was kidding,” I laugh. “Swapped a couple shifts with Jason. Your dad doesn’t care who works, only that somebody does. Got it covered.”
“You better not have switched for Friday, you owe me a date. And this, tonight, does not count as a date,” she gripes… because, she showed me, for a few fleeting moments, her inside… so now she’s just got to put that damn armor of hers back up on the outside.
But I’m well-versed in her tactics, and thoroughly enjoy weaving my way through her maze, so I play along. “Why not?”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “All those big thoughts, bigger words, smooth tongue of yours, you need the answer about as bad as I need a lesson in sarcasm. You’re lucky, given our current locale, that there’s not a damn thing better to talk about, so I’ll play too.” She smirks and tosses me a wink. “A date, so I’ve been told, is this thing where a guy picks a girl up and takes her somewhere. Out. Planned by him. Paid for by him. Showing up at a lame ass party I’m already at doesn’t count.”
“Why we still standing here then? Let’s leave. I’ll drive you back to your place, wait a second, walk my happy ass to the door and take ya out. Anywhere you want to go, name the place.” She ducks her head to hide her smile, unsuccessfully, and I jump on the return of her playful mood, moving in closer. Bodies reconnected, spark instant and electric as though the first, I slip a finger under her chin and tilt her pretty face up to gain her eyes. “Presley, it is happening this time. We’re happening. Gonna be together, and it’s gonna be amazing. You’re stubborn as hell, but so am I, especially when it comes to you. Not giving up again, so settle in, Sugar.”
“We’re too young to settle, Sutton. Know what that really means? Boring! Stuck. Out of obligation, ethics, whatever. Miserably doing the right thing. Sexting turns into daily checks on what sounds good for dinner. Sex itself? Once a week, missionary, after the routine TV show ends. Guy gets comfortable, starts farting in front of her, she rocks her designated ‘rag panties’ out in the open and tells him all about her cramps, and they both feel free to poop with the door open! Why would you set that inevitable wheel in motion any sooner than you absolutely have to?”
Surprisingly, I don’t bust out laughing, too busy picking my jaw up off the ground. Just like every other time she’s eluded to this train of thought, I literally cannot fathom a single fucking reason why her vision’s so incredibly skewed. Not that I want to think about it, but I already have — no way in hell is her dad a “once-a-week, missionary” kinda guy… knowing him ten minutes tells ya that much… And her Uncle Dane? The man wears his sex-drive on his sleeve. She hasn’t grown up around bored, complacent couples as examples, so what gives?
“Presley, what you just described? Where’d that shit come from? A, it’s very exaggerated, and B, nothing you’d know anything about. C, it’s not ‘boring’ either. It’s life. Love. Stability. Absolute, unconditional comfort with another person.”
“Or, the perfect lil’ mantra people have to believe to stay, for the kids. Sutton, I-”
“FIGHT!” A piercing scream steals our focus… but I tuck her last two words away for later. I have to find out how that sentence ends.
“Where’d J and them go?” She panics, seeing that they’re no longer on the deck. “Sutton, where the hell are they?”
“Ellis! Need some help!” JT’s voice rings out, a panic in it too.
My first, immediate instinct’s already executed — I’ve got both arms cinched around Presley, holding her tight against me — but I’m torn on what to do next. Able to feel her safety, I allow myself to take my eyes off her and look in the direction JT called from, seeing mass, riotous grouping… but no JT, Brynny or Bellamy, specifically.
“Sutton, go, JT needs you!” Presley shrills, slapping my chest. “He’s in a fight, go! And find Brynny and Bellamy!”
Well, shit. Can’t let my man get jumped or outnumbered, do need to locate the girls, but what about my girl? Don’t wanna leave her alone either.
She reads my mind, and tries to put it at ease. “Sutton, seriously, I’m fine. Please, go. Go help my family!”
“Do. Not. Leave from this spot,” I demand, of Presley, waiting for her nod of promise before letting her go, which does not feel right at all, and hurdling the deck to sprint toward the circle of commotion in the yard. “Move,” I bark several times, shoving bodies aside, hoping none are girls, ‘til I reach the center of the storm and pick out JT. “The fuck, man?” I yell, needing info ASAP, unable to make heads or tails of what’s actually happening, what with the darkness, crowd, and mixture of cheers and shrieking.
“You grab Camden, I got Ryder,” JT hollers back… and I start trying to figure out which fucking one in the mayhem is Camden. “Brynn, Bellamy, sound the fuck off, now! Where y’all at? You safe?”
“We’re right here, together. Safe,” Bellamy screams.
“Right where? Fuck it, just… just get back, not too far. P? Talk to me!” I take too long to answer for her, let him know she’s okay, busy picking out Camden and putting his punk ass in check. So when he asks again, his fear booms over his fury. “Presley, where the fuck are you? Answer me, goddammit!”
“She’s good, up on the deck. Told her not to move.” I look back as I tell him, needing to lay eyes on her, but can’t see through the crowd… which raises my anger to lethal levels. Yeah, I’m fucking done with this “whose dick is bigger” bullshit, and since I’m bigger than both their squirrely asses put together, I get to decide when it ends.
That’d be now.
“J, you grab the girls and get back to Pres. Meet ya there. I’ve got this shit.”
“You sure?”
“More than. Now go, get your ass back to Presley!”
“On it.”
I shake off the wave of leeriness that hits me, chalking it
up to losing direct sight of her, and crash all the way up in Dumb and Dumber’s little pissin’ match. “Alrighty boys, that’s enough, your panties are showin’.” I send Camden flying somewhere to the left, while wrapping a hand around Ryder’s throat and picking him up off the ground. “You’re done too.”
“The hell I am!” He spits on the ground; blood I’m guessing. “That prick, supposedly a friend of mine, knows Brynn’s with me.” He tries jerking from my grasp… doesn’t work out well for him. “Let go, Sutton. This isn’t your fight, and you know his ass deserves everything I give him.”
“Don’t know, or care, about a damn thing other than the three ladies here with us. They’re the priority. I got no time to be babysitting your dumbass. I like ya, Ryder, I do, but let’s be real. Camden didn’t exactly drag Brynn here tonight. She came of her own free-will, because she wanted to. Might wanna ask her who she’s with before wastin’ any more energy rollin’ around on the ground with a dude who may already have ya bested. Feel me?”
“He’s got shit bested. Brynn’s just being nice, like she always is, to everyone. He’s taking advantage of her good nature.”
“Guess you’ll know for sure when you talk to her.” Having said all I care to, I turn to go, at the same exact time Camden decides to come back for more, I stop his ass cold, using my left hand to put him in a neck-lock, my right on Ryder’s chest, holding them as far apart as my arms will stretch.
They don’t take the hint and start flinging arms, twisting their bodies, all sorts of chickens-with-their-heads-cut-off looking shit to try and break loose and get at each other, so I make shit real clear. “Y’all are pissing me off again. I’m about five seconds from showing ya both what getting your ass whipped really feels like. Last warning. Camden, walk-”
“Sutton! Time to go, come on!” Bellamy’s suddenly at my side, tugging on my sleeve.
Second time tonight I’ve been desperately “beckoned,” first time it’s sent my blood running cold.
“What’s wrong?” The inkling in the pit of my stomach I brushed aside earlier returns with a violent, full force vengeance.
“It’s P… Presley,” she stammers out what I somehow knew, feared most, she was gonna say.
“What about her?” I roar, dropping the two schmucks flat on their asses and grabbing Bellamy’s hand. “You lead, take me to her. What’s happening?” I ask as we run. “Bellamy, talk! What’s wrong with Presley?”
“I’m not sure. Something, someone, I don’t know,” she wails, not making headway through the crammed house near fast enough for me, so I scoop her up in my arms. “They’re at Jefferson’s car, she’s upset.”
“Tuck against me, don’t want ya hurt.” She listens, ducking her head and curling into me as I part the crowd like a linebacker… on a homicidal rampage. “Move or die,” I give one loud warning, and most folks quickly scatter, those who don’t, get shoulder-checked the fuck out of my way. “Where’s he parked?”
Now that I have us out front, she lifts her head and looks around. “Down there.” She points, hand visibly shaking. “By that sign. See the light on?”
“Got it. Hold on tight,” I grunt, and take off in a mad sprint, and only speed-up until we get to them.
Not sure if I set Bellamy down, she jumped, or I’m still holding her — couldn’t tell ya my own name right now — my sole focus, is on Presley. She’s deathly pale, fresh tears retracing their tracks down her cheeks, trembling so hard her teeth are chattering, and fighting for each shallow breath. I can’t think, move, and almost don’t recognize her… the strongest girl I know… absolutely broken.
“What the fuck happened?” My sweet girl flinches at the murderous rage in my roar, so I force myself to at least act rational, for her, and try again, this time in as soothing a tone as I can manage. “Sugar, talk to me, what is it? Are you hurt?” My eyes rake over her, finding no obvious wounds. She can’t answer me, and again I lose control, my fear-fueled ignorance booming, “J, what the hell happened to her? Somebody better tell me something, real fuckin’ fast!” I start to pick Presley up, hold her, so close that nothing ever hurts her again, but she thrashes away from my touch as if convulsing and JT grabs my arm.
“Don’t. Don’t touch her right now.”
“Why not? What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?” My whole body shakes with the ferocity I keep from my eerily calm questions.
“You’ve gotta tone it down, man. Need ya with your shit together right now, can’t be worrying about both of you. And please tell me you drove your truck tonight?”
“I did.” I nod, worried-sick stare still locked on Presley.
“Thank God. Okay, you drive the girls to Bellamy’s. Brynn, call Dad and tell him you’re spending the night there and that everything’s fine. I’ll drive P.”
“Drive her where? Does she need a doctor? Hospital? Police?” I gulp down the acid that rose with the last option. “Look at her, she’s trembling, not talking, and I still don’t know why! Was… she hurt? Is… she hurt?” My voice cracks, hands flexing in and out of fists, itching to touch her, comfort her, fix it. Whatever it is… I’ll fix it… or die trying.
“Sutton,” Brynn whispers, placing a guiding hand on my arm. “I’ll explain everything on the drive, but right now, we need to get going, get her out of here. I promise you, she’s not physically hurt. We’d have already called the police, and family, if she was. Please, just come on.” She takes my hand in a tellingly tight grip, and even though I’d rather do anything but, I follow, clueless and terrified, my head turned back to watch Presley fade further and further away. “Where’d you park?”
“Where’d you park?” I mock, failing epically to match her docile tone. “How the fuck are you so calm? Oh, I know, because you do know! Everyone does, except me. How ‘bout this?” I rip my hand from hers and stop walking. “I’m not moving another motherfucking inch until you tell me what’s going on.”
She, however, doesn’t slow a step. Bellamy either. “Whatever you wanna do. No time for your tantrums. I gotta call home, while I walk to Bellamy’s,” she calls out.
“Stubborn as your cousin,” I grumble when I’ve caught up to her. “You’re not walking. I’m sorry. I just-”
“I know.” She remains stoic. “Now, let’s try this again. Tell me where you’re parked and get your keys out. B, don’t let him get away.” She snags my hand and places it in Bellamy’s. “I gotta call my dad real quick, so be quiet, but Keep. Moving.”
“Bellamy, please. Please tell me something, anything. What the hell happened to Presley?”
“Shhh, soon,” she whispers past a sympathetic smile, squeezing my hand. “Let her finish talking to her dad first. He hears about any of this and things will go from bad to… I don’t even want to think about it.”
Logic tries to prevail, to convince me that whatever it is can’t be that bad, far from any of the horrible scenarios running through my head, or they would’ve already called the cops like Brynn said, but worry is drowning out logic. My every step is weighted, as though trudging through that very water, and my whole body’s numb, yet my mind’s reeling. That contradiction, mixed with fear and a dozen dismissed, unanswered questions, is a lethal combination, and my anger resurfaces in one huge swell. I will kill whoever hurt my Hot Shot. Then, I’ll tear Camden and Ryder apart, limb by limb, for their roles in this. Their bullshit that took me from her side, allowing… whatever to happen.
“Okay, all-clear on the home front,” Brynn’s relieved sigh almost misses severing my dangerous thoughts. “Keys? I’ll drive.”
“I can drive,” I grate.
“I’m sure you can, but I’d rather you didn’t. I’ve been through this before, so I’m not quite as rattled as you. Not trying to emasculate you or anything, just trying to get us there alive. Please, let me drive.”
Lil’ Brynny, ever the level-headed, sensible one. Damn shame I’m planning to maim both her suitors. Hope she’ll understand and forgive me… doing it regardless. But it does mak
e me feel marginally better to hear she’s been through this before. So again, maybe it’s not that bad. I can only pray I’m right, and that my definition of “not that bad” even remotely aligns with hers. Never know when it comes to her family; there’s a strong chance her tolerance level may be what I’d consider off-balance.
“Sutton, keys?” She sticks out a hand.
“Can you even reach the pedals?” I stall, not quite ready to cave.
“I’ll manage.”
“Brynny, seriously, I can drive… my own truck. I’m worried, confused, pissed as hell and out of patience, yes, but I’m not gonna fuckin’ wreck or some shit.” Done debating, and now at the truck, I open the back door and help Bellamy up and in, turning to do the same for Brynn… who’s already helped herself in, behind the wheel, adjusting the seat. I bite my tongue, get in the passenger seat, and toss her the keys… in the interest of time. Whatever gets me to Presley the fastest is the only battle I need to win.
“Sutton?”
“Yeah?” My head snaps her way, more than ready for her to start talking, and moving.
“Put on your seatbelt.”
“Seriously? That’s what you have to say?” I yank the goddamn belt across me and shove the clip in the buckle. “There, it’s on. Now start driving, and explaining, or swear to fuck, I’m gonna lose all my shit.”
“For real, Brynn. He’s waited, in agony, long enough. Even you don’t have the patience he’s shown. Out with it.” Bellamy firmly backs me up.
“You’re absolutely right.” She drags in a deep breath, puts the truck in drive, and motion, then continues on her exhale. “I don’t think it needs said, but just to be sure, this is a squad matter, one we deal with on our own. No parents are to ever find out. Got it?”
Bellamy and I both agree with no hesitation, then wait for what seems like eons as she takes her sweet ass time with another breath that’s bigger than her. “None of us know why, and she won’t tell, so we quit asking a long time ago, but every once in a while, just a couple times ever actually, P has…”