Wild Nights

by Shayne Ford

  “I bit myself.”

  He looks at me, an unexplained angst crawling up on me. Something’s amiss. I can’t grasp it, yet I see it lurking in his eyes.

  “He wants you to call him,” I throw at him, irritated.

  His gaze sharpens, suddenly searching my eyes.

  “When did you talk to him?” he asks, nervousness flashing in his voice.

  “I called him from your phone.”

  His chest expands with a sharp intake of air before he springs up to his feet, his eyes boring into mine.

  “Why did you call him from my phone?”

  “He sent you a message.”

  He stares at me, his face bloodless.

  I jump up to my feet as well.

  “What happened, Jagger?”

  “What did he say in the message?” he asks, so anxious and angry, my stomach tosses and turns, pushing my lunch up to my throat.

  I snatch my dress and pull away from him. He runs after me and grabs my arm, spinning me to him.

  “What did he say?” he asks, his voice broken, his face pale like the sand.

  “Nothing. He said nothing. He wants to talk to you,” I say, and a sigh of relief escapes his lips.

  I yank my arm out of his lock and run to the house.

  “Violet?”

  I pull away faster than him and sprint into the farthest room of the house. I slam the door in his face before he bursts in.

  “Get the fuck out!” I scream.

  “Hey.”

  He snakes his arms around me, his skin hot and cold, smelling like the sea.

  “I fucking told you, Jagger. Didn’t I?” I growl.

  “Shh... Calm down. Nothing happened, Violet.”

  “Stop saying that. I woke up to an empty house, and none of you want to talk. I don’t want secrets, Jagger. Not from you. Not from him. ”

  “We had an argument. About last night,” he says and lets go of me.

  “It was not his fault, Jagger.”

  “It was. Things spun out of control, and it was because of him.”

  “If someone lost control, it was me, all right? Half of the club was doing exactly what we were doing. And you know what? Those men could’ve come onto me whether Braxton’s hand was up my ass or not. Stop blaming him.”

  Okay maybe this is not a stellar argument, but still, I don’t understand why he has to pin this on Braxton.

  He runs a nervous hand through his hair.

  “He was supposed to take care of you.”

  “He did. Stop talking as if I’m a fucking child.”

  He turns to me, his eyes catching a ray of light filtering through the curtains. He stays quiet, yet I feel him on edge, holding something back.

  “I don’t want this, Jagger,” I say, sadness weaving through my voice.

  His eyes darken and change colors, the light bleeding out of them as if the sun just vanished into the clouds. A fine mist slides over them while his lips begin to tremble.

  Tilting his head back, he studies me as tears pool in my eyes.

  12

  JAGGER

  Her body presses against mine, her hands framing my face, her lips quivering.

  My stomach ties in knots as all I feel in her kiss is her goodbye. She rests her head against my shoulder and curls her arms around my body, her voice soft on her lips.

  “I don’t want you two arguing over me.”

  Letting out a silent exhale, I tighten my arms around her.

  “It was my mistake,” I mutter.

  I tip her chin up and run my fingers over her beautiful face. “I just couldn’t stand those men’s hands on you,” I murmur.

  Her fingers touch my face as well.

  “Have you had any sleep?” she asks.

  I slowly shake my head.

  “No.”

  “Are you working tonight?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Maybe you should get some sleep,” she says.

  “Okay... Together, maybe?”

  A smile lights up her face as I sweep my hands over her shoulders and peel her bra off her. Smoothly, I untie her bikini and let it drop to the floor, and then I lift her up and slide with her onto the bed.

  She pulls the swim trunks off me and straddles me, and then she leans to me and kisses me, her eyes studying mine as the fangs of angst sink into my throat.

  I shift my position and pull her under me, her back to me.

  “Hey, baby...” I murmur in the back of her hair, slipping my fingers between her folds, entering her from behind.

  Rooting myself deep in her core, I start thrusting while rubbing her clit. Gasps and moans escape her lips.

  I close my eyes for a moment, the image of her and Braxton in that club coming to my mind. Their bodies tangled, famished, their hands roaming. And then, that damn kiss... I was so hard as I was watching them.

  And then a different image overlaps. His eyes pinned on mine, his mouth wrapped around my cock... His lips loving me...

  His pain and pleasure.

  And mine...

  “Fuck...” I groan, my cock hardening, ready to shoot my load.

  “Don’t be jealous of him, Jagger,” she mumbles.

  “What?”

  “I know you were,” she says, and I still inside her, her pussy milking me. “We’d be nothing without you...” she says softly.

  “You don’t know that...” I murmur in her hair.

  “Yes, I do... And you know it too.”

  I start to move again, and her body moves with me, matching me thrust for thrust as I let the images of her and Braxton, and then Braxton and me re-appear in front of my eyes.

  Her moans roll louder, her body ready to climax. I pick up the pace and close my eyes, my lips tasting like blood again.

  I rub my eyes and look around. It’s dark outside, voices traveling from the backyard. I slide off the bed, drag the sheet with me and stroll to the bathroom.

  A half hour later, showered and freshly shaven, I slip into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and walk out of the bedroom. The voices echo closer, the dialogue and music floating through the air.

  I enter the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee before I swiftly scan the backyard. There are a few couples I recognize, and some I don’t.

  They’re all dressed up, and most of them have accents. Some are Spaniards, others Portuguese, all in their thirties.

  A soft rustle and the sound of footsteps make me turn around. Braxton enters the room.

  He wears tailored black pants, and a matching slim fit, collar shirt that fits taut across his shoulders. His raven hair shines, combed all back, only a few strands brushing his brow. The sophisticated scent of his cologne drifts to me.

  He turns his back to me.

  “Where are you going?” I ask dryly.

  “Out.”

  “Where’s Violet?”

  He pivots slowly and locks my eyes, deep emotions flowing through them.

  “She’s getting ready. She’s coming with me if she doesn’t change her mind.”

  I raise an eyebrow, his lips curving into a cold smile.

  “It’s only dinner,” he says.

  He opens the fridge and scoops out a bottle.

  Eyes steady on me, he gulps down water.

  “Unless you prefer to have her home...” he says, irony coating his voice.

  His lips tilt into a taunting grin.

  I clench my teeth to stifle a retort. This is not the time to start something I can’t finish.

  He places the bottle on the table and inches to me.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

  “I can’t talk about it,” I murmur.

  He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a moment before he flashes a smile that hardly hides the sadness bleeding in his eyes.

  He takes a step back, and my heart tumbles in my chest.

  “Keep Violet out of it,” I bark, my hand trembling as I set my mug of coffee on the table.

  “I’
m not an idiot, Jagger.”

  Heels click-clack against the floor, drawing our attention to the door.

  Violet struts into the room, her blonde hair shining like the Mediterranean sun, her skin glowing with a faint bronze, her eyes beaming.

  A flowing dress sets off her sculpted body, the vivid turquoise color bringing out her blue-green eyes.

  She struts to me, swaying her hips, tall on her sexy heels. She gives me a kiss while I wrap an arm around her, my gaze slipping over her shoulder.

  Tipping his head back, Braxton slowly parts his lips, his grin making me nervous, and drowning me in a pool of fire at the same time.

  “He’s taking me to one of the best restaurants on the island,” she says, oblivious to the tension flowing between him and me.

  “He is?”

  I glance at him again.

  “Yes. It’s traditional cuisine. I can’t wait,” she says, excited.

  She glances at Braxton and then back at me as I lean against the table and cross my arms over my chest.

  “You two are good?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I murmur, holding Braxton’s eyes.

  A secret smile drapes over his lips. She pulls away from me and walks to him.

  “We have to go now,” he says to her, resting his hand on the small of her back.

  Dark emotions course through me as they turn around and stroll away, my gut telling me that things have already slipped out of control.

  Now that they’re gone, I feel like a fucking island, adrift in the middle of the sea.

  VIOLET

  The food is delicious, and the atmosphere is relaxed.

  A scent of pine trees floats over the terrace, a soft wind blowing the candles tucked in red jars.

  People are friendly, and in no hurry to do anything other than enjoying dinner. The phones stay quiet throughout the evening. We take our time to taste the food, savor the drinks and make conversation.

  The topics we tackle span from expat living, to traveling and eating in some the best restaurants on the island.

  Throughout the evening, Braxton showers me with his attention. Going out with him gives me the chance to explore another side of him.

  He’s mature beyond his years, matching Jagger in that regard. I quickly learn that his playfulness and cockiness are just another way to hide his heart.

  Silently, I study him.

  He pulls away from a conversation about money and politics and glances at me. His hand finds mine under the table, his fingers lacing through mine. He gives me a gentle squeeze, and my heart jumps in my chest.

  “Let me know when you want to go,” he whispers in my ear, and then he cups my cheek and gives me a soft kiss in front of everybody.

  I look at him, flushed and baffled.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I mumble. “Whenever you’re ready,” I say.

  An hour later we say goodbye to our new friends, climb in his car, and follow the empty road along the coast.

  The weather is warm and windy, the air dry. A big moon hangs over the sea. Not far from his house, he pulls off the road, and rolls the car on a strip of beach outlining a small cove.

  He helps me out of his ride.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I’m going to show you something,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt. “Leave your shoes in the car.”

  Leaning on him, I pull the sandals off and toss them on the back seat. He takes off his shoes, untucks his shirt and swiftly undoes his fly.

  He peels his clothing off.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He pulls down my zipper and drapes the dress off me.

  “Swimming,” he says, taking in my red lacy underwear.

  “It’s dark,” I say.

  He points to the moon, a veil of silver shining across the rippling waters.

  “That’s all we need.”

  Wearing only boxer shorts, he grabs my hand and pulls me to the sea. Hesitantly, I follow him into a crescent of water. He snakes his arm around me.

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  Soon the water reaches to my chest, and he lets go of me and slips under. Silence surrounds me as lights glimmer across the sky.

  My feet sink into the sea floor.

  The water shifts around my legs as he grabs my ankles and pulls up, surfacing with a big splash.

  He gives me a quick kiss, the water dripping from his hair falling all over my face.

  “Come with me,” he says.

  I hold my breath as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me under the water. We swim along a wall of rock, waving and twirling, my hand linked to his.

  Moments later, we pull above the waterline, a different cove and a pristine beach stretching in front of us.

  Big rocks block the access from the land, making the sea the only access route. The water is warm and wraps around my waist.

  He threads his fingers through his hair and looks at me, his eyes two silver coins sparkling in the moonlight.

  “Braxton...” I mutter, tentatively.

  His fingers go to my lips.

  “Please don’t...” he murmurs.

  He cups the back of my neck, his gaze sinking into mine, the celestial light beaming on his face.

  A small smile plays on his lips.

  “This is about you and me, Violet,” he murmurs.

  My heart thuds in my chest.

  I twine my arms around his neck and part my lips, welcoming his kiss, and responding to him with a burning passion.

  My body loves him. My heart does too.

  And then...

  “I love him,” I say with a quiet voice, the words spinning out as a storm of emotions barrels through me.

  “Me too... More than you can imagine,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion, his eyes glistening with tears. “I always did,” he says, and my heart hurts for him as much as it aches for me.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, splaying my fingers on his face.

  “I’m not doing anything different than what I’m feeling,” he says, and something melts inside me.

  He’s done it so many times, making it impossible to resist him. The way he touches me and speaks to me. The way he wraps this invisible thread of love around me, tying me to him and him to us, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

  “This is not going to end well...” I say, merely voicing a thought.

  I expect him to deny it, or say something to dispel my fears.

  “It’s too late for that, baby... We can’t stop anything right now,” he says.

  He slants his gaze to my mouth, his lips curving into a sensual smile as he pulls me into him. Heat courses through me as our lips collide again, our bodies connecting in a feast of lust and passion.

  Breathless, we moan and groan, craving to fall into each other.

  He lifts me in his arms, carries me to the beach, and lays me on a drift of warm, soft sand. He pulls my panties down, and I tug his shorts off him.

  In one swift motion, he fills me to the brim.

  I squirm beneath his body, and wrap my legs around him, my wetness soaking him.

  “You’re so good, baby,” he murmurs, filling me over and over again as my thighs are wide open beneath him, my body insatiable for him.

  He rolls with me, his back hitting the sand, and I straddle him and ride him, all stirred up by the unquenched fire in my core.

  His hands caress my body as my hips grind into his.

  “Don’t you fucking stop,” he grunts.

  His body tenses, every sliding motion on his shaft bringing me closer to the peak.

  I toss my head back, arch my spine, and slam his hard flesh, picking up the pace as the intense pleasure washes over me.

  My moans drift through the air, fading away over the sea.

  Before I scale down completely, he rolls me under him, grabs my neck and holds my body against his, fiercely pounding me. I come convulsing in his arms, my nails peeling the skin of
f his neck, branding his shoulders.

  I feel drops of blood beneath my fingers, and yet he doesn’t even flinch.

  I hold onto him as he hammers me, his back arching as the final shudder goes through him.

  We savor the aftermath, and as we both slow down, the reality comes into focus, screaming at me, and filling me with angst and sadness as I realize we just shattered Jagger’s trust.

  Tears trickle down my face.

  “Violet?”

  Still breathing heavily, he raises his head from my hair, props his body on his elbows and looks at me.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I think you know why,” I say, wiping my tears.

  His hand goes to my face.

  “No, I don’t. Talk to me,” he says, sweet desperation seeping in his voice. “Please...” he rasps.

  “This will not end well,” I mutter.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “No, I don’t, but I sure can feel it. We weren’t supposed to do this, Braxton. Not like this.”

  He runs the back of his knuckles over my face.

  “I’ve never been in love with a woman... I don’t know how else to do it.”

  “I can’t love two men, Braxton...”

  His eyes sparkle like the moon.

  “I think you already do.” He runs his thumb under my eyes, brushing off tears. “If you really want me to go, just tell me, and I’ll walk away,” he says softly after a few moments.

  He doesn’t falter as he waits for my response, and I know why.

  Slowly shaking my head, I stretch a bitter smile.

  “You made damn sure I can’t ask you that without breaking my own heart. You knew that from the moment you laid your hands on me.”

  He pulls back a little, his eyes flaring with surprise and anger.

  “Do you really believe that? You think I fucking planned all this?”

  “I don’t know if you planned it or not, but that’s how I feel right now,” I say, pushing out my desperation.

  He rolls off me, tears washing over his eyes, and I see his pain, his regret as thick as mine.

  “I didn’t want to come between the two of you. I didn’t want to fall for you as much as I didn’t want to love him. It was not a choice. He was not a choice,” he growls. “And neither were you. Is that what you think? That I wanted to make it hard for everybody else?” His ache and desperation ripples through me.“You have no fucking idea, Violet... No... fucking... idea.”