by Stella Noir
I take his face in my hands and make him look at me, trying to erase all the pain of the past few months. “Then don’t,” I whisper softly, and he groans like I’ve just made a horrible move.
But as he pushes deeper inside of me, we both know it wasn’t bad, because nothing about this beautiful display of true love could ever be foul. It’s perfect, my walls holding him in tightly, fitting perfectly around his arousal.
He moans against my mouth and I return every sound, every whispered word. We just fit together, like we’re two jagged pieces of something finally finding their way back together.
I thought the last time we made love was perfect down to the last detail, but tonight, he is proving me wrong with each passionate kiss and each thrust of his lips.
It can be so much better.
And in his thrusting hips, his demanding mouth, lies the promise of more to come, as long as I let him love me and keep him firmly rooted in my life.
With each sigh that escapes my lips, I know I want to stay with him forever.
“You’re everything,” Dylan moans against my lips, and I beg him to go on, needing to hear him say he feels the same way I do right now. I need reassurance, need to know we’re in this together. Need to realize I’m not crazy for feeling … everything.
“Light and dark and every shade of grey,” he whispers softly in my ear and shivers erupt all over my body as his mouth slides across my skin, leaving it tingling in its wake. “You’re everything and so much more …”
He moans as he pumps even deeper and I clench my teeth with the overwhelming pleasure, knowing it will get better every single time we make love.
This is it, after all the years I spent searching.
A fleeting thought reminds me of Matt and I immediately feel guilty, but then it’s as if a sense of calm washed over me. He would want me to be happy, and if he knew another man could give me more than he ever could, he would want to have me all of it.
He was that kind of man – good to the core.
And we both deserved better.
I think of him, up in the stars, watching over me and making sure I am okay. I hope he is as happy, as blessed, and as lucky as I am.
With Dylan thrusting his hips into me, I finally close that chapter of my life, and I mourn my husband for the last time, smiling softly as I feel his blessing descend upon us.
“Thank you,” I whisper into Dylan’s neck, not knowing who I’m thanking, but at the same time, feeling an enormous weight being lifted off my shoulders. “Thank you.”
Dylan grips me just a little bit tighter, and as I feel the waves of pleasure rolling of my skin, I know we’re both close to finishing. “Love me harder,” I beg him, and he groans, doing exactly what I asked him to.
He plunges deeper inside of me, kissing me even more passionately, his hands holding my ass higher so he can go as deep as possible. But then, he breaks contact with my mouth and asks me to keep my eyes open.
“I want to look at your eyes,” he explains. “Need to see you come.”
I shiver when he says those words, and nod weakly, fighting hard to keep my eyes open against the current of pleasure currently coursing through my body.
“Dylan,” I manage weakly. “Please, make me come now.”
He doesn’t need me to tell him twice, and he pumps even harder, whispering my name in my ear over and over again, repeating it like it’s a mantra to him.
“About to come,” he finally says, looking straight into my eyes. I see pain, I see pleasure, I see all the stars in the sky … And then I moan softly as I feel myself coming on his cock, breaking all the barriers I had set up for myself.
“Dylan!” I scream his name, moaning, but not breaking the eye contact he demanded we maintain. A second later, his eyes flutter closed for a split moment, but then he looks at me with even more intensity, releasing his seed deep inside of me.
We didn’t bother with protection – I am on the pill, but I know I want him inside me bare … To feel every inch of me, to make every wet, trembling part his own.
We come together, our eyes locked on each other’s even though it’s getting increasingly hard to keep them open. But looking at him as he comes because of me renders me speechless, and I’m flooded with so many emotions I can only whimper weakly, knowing no one in the world will ever do after this.
I’ve been claimed, and Dylan is the only one for me now.
No one else exists, and I would be fooling myself if I said I can experience pure ecstasy like this with anyone other than him … the man of my dreams, my past and my future.
He collapses on top of me and his mouth finds mine in the wake of our love making. His kiss is soft now, gentle and thankful for showing him what he showed me.
“Love,” he whispers in my ear, and as if on cue, the puppy he got me barks in the background.
We laugh softly at the sound she makes, gazing at one another as we wait for our bodies to adjust, breathing heavily, our bodies sticky, but still so perfect together.
And right there, in the tightly secured house, I find my inner peace, and my happiness with the man I should’ve always known was the only one for me.
As I listen to the puppy’s snoring from her bed behind the couch, I let Dylan kiss and explore every single inch of my body, reveling in his words and exclamations of wonder as he takes me in, all these years after what happened that faithful summer.
And in that moment, none of it matters, because it’s just us, in our happy little bubble.
I don’t care that two of his siblings are out to get us.
Don’t give a fuck that this is too soon, too fast, too sudden.
All I know is happiness in its purest, most blissful form. And I don’t want anything else to replace it – but even if it does, I will always have this moment, this day, lodged in my heart, reminding me of how perfect my life was, even if for just an hour or two.
And I’ll always be thankful for that moment, as short as it was …
I will always feel complete because of what Dylan gave me.
Finally, I feel like I belong somewhere and have a place in the world.
And it’s right here, in Dylan’s arms, drifting slowly to sleep with his cock still inside me, my body sore from making love to him.
Chapter 55
The days start to pass. We spend time in the house, and outside too - as long as we’re together.
We establish a routine, and I’m soon shocked by the fact how much I enjoy working outside, in the garden. Only a few weeks go by and I’ve planted tulips and other bulbs, I’ve even got some salad and vegetables growing right in front of the house, so our meals are delicious.
I even take care of the chickens, and eating fresh eggs every day more than pays off getting up early every morning to feed and clean after them. Every day, I surprise myself with the effort in put into this newfound self sufficiency, and I’m even more shocked by the fact I’m actually immensely enjoying it.
But of course, none of it would be the same if I didn’t have Dylan right next to me. He’s always by my side, when I drop an egg on the floor and I’m about to cry, he’s there to console me and in a few minutes, I’m already laughing about it. He shows me how to water the plants and take care of the fruit trees which are blooming.
It’s like we have our own little family, and I enjoy playing house.
Of course, it all seems a little surreal – we don’t have jobs to go to, so we’re left to ourselves all day long. I’m vaguely aware that there’s something wrong with the whole picture when the officers drop by to check on us, and every time I’m reminded I can’t really venture outside.
Our food – what we don’t make ourselves – is delivered every other day in a large crate. Same for the milk and other necessities, of which I’ve found I really don’t need many.
Our days are idyllic, and I’m quickly getting used to living like this.
But still, there’s a sense of impending doom always surrounding us. Every time
I hear a chicken step on a twig behind my back, I’ll run away into Dylan’s arms. A mere sound has the effect of a thousand gun shots on me. I’m nervous, twitchy and scared, and as much as I want to hide it, it always comes to bite me in the ear.
Love is a different puppy, transformed by Dylan’s presence. But even so, I sometimes catch her whimpering in the corner, as if she, too, can smell the danger in the air.
Our love blossoms, as do our surroundings as spring turns into summer with beautiful blooms and ripe, juicy fruit in the garden. I miss my pool every day, longing to take a long soak in the blistering heat.
But it’s all okay … I can take everything, and then some, because Dylan is with me every step of the day. He’s my crutch, my support system at day, and my lover at night.
We’re living the perfect life.
Until one day, when it comes crashing down on us in a wave of nausea.
It starts in the morning, when I try to go outside and feed the chickens – my usual routine.
As soon as I come downstairs, I feel the dread come over me and I know something isn’t quite right. I skip my morning routine of making coffee for the two of us, heading straight to the door.
I notice all the windows are closed shut, which seems strange since we always like to leave a few open just to get some fresh air. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t lock them shut the previous night.
My heart is already pounding before I grab the door handle, but when I pull on it and it doesn’t give, it starts to hammer in my chest.
I give another pull, a push, a yank. But nothing happens.
I yell for Dylan to come, and he appears downstairs in the next minute, glaring at me, my own fears reflected in his steely gray eyes.
He joins me at the door, and I don’t have to say a single word as he tries pulling the door handle himself.
“We’re locked,” he says softly. “We’re locked from the outside in.”
We exchange horrified glances and immediately, he tries to calm me down, but I’m not having any of it. My heart thumping, I refuse to believe the police finally have a lead on Marc and Venetia’s whereabouts, and have locked us in for our own safety, like Dylan is telling me.
Instead, I know this is their own doing.
I don’t know how they got to us, or where they are.
But it’s as if I can sense their presence in the air. It’s like the atmosphere has gotten a little colder, a little sharper. Each breath is harder and more labored, as if pure evil is lingering in the air around us.
And as much as Dylan tries to calm me down, I can see the fear in his eyes. I can smell it on him, feel it in his movements, hear it in his voice.
We’re mice and the cats have come out to play. It’s finally time to pay our debts, and I know Venetia isn’t a woman who lets her playthings get away with what they’ve done. I’ve seen her destroy too many lives to believe she might take mercy on me – the person she hates most in the world.
Dylan stays brave, and tries to make me be the same, but I feel it coming before I even hear it. But then there it is, and there’s no going back.
There’s a sound system in the house that is supposed to let us know if anything is up. But instead, today, it’s going to become the source of all my nightmares coming true.
Because over the speakers that are all around the house, an all-too known voice comes through. It’s Marc.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he says, his voice evil and twisted. And immediately after that, Venetia’s horrifying laugh follows, letting us know they’ve finally got us where they want us.
We’re trapped.
Chapter 56
My blood immediately freezes in my veins as Dylan and I exchange horrified glances.
Here we go again.
Suddenly, one of the doors bursts open and in stroll Venetia and Marc, grins plastered across their faces as they take in our expressions of terror.
“Well, hello again,” Marc slurs, and I realize he’s drunk again. I guess he’s taken to self-medicating his condition. Venetia, on the other hand, looks so calm and collected it makes me even more scared than Marc’s drunken stumble.
It’s the quiet monsters that are the most dangerous, and her sly smirk makes me believe that sentence even more as they both advance towards us.
Dylan immediately steps in front of me, shielding my body with his to protect me, and my heart swells with love for him, knowing he would do anything to put me out of harm’s way.
“Don’t come any closer,” he says in a menacing tone.
“Don’t have to,” Marc laughs shrilly, producing a gun from behind his back.
A soft whimper escapes me as he aims it straight at Dylan, and I fear the worst. But he only seems to be playing, toying with the gun as if it were just a plaything. It makes me nervous seeing him toss the weapon around, but I’m too mesmerized by the scene in front of me to look away.
Finally seeing Marc and Dylan in the same room is finally the reason I need. To see them face to face, the resemblance between them truly is uncanny, and I can finally forgive myself for thinking Marc was Dylan.
If you didn’t know one of them quite well, you could easily mistake them for one another. And not even knowing Dylan had a twin made me think Marc really was the love of my life.
However, now I see all the subtle and not-so-subtle differences between them.
Dylan’s grin, as opposed to Marc’s smirk.
Marc’s crazed eyes compared to Dylan’s soulful gaze.
Dylan’s love for me, and only me … and Marc’s innate need to destroy all that I am, just to please his sister Venetia, whose approval he has been seeking all his life, since the rest of his family never cared about him.
“Time to play,” he whispers, looking more than a little crazed.
I have no idea how they got in here, or what on earth they’re planning, but I know that I finally need closure. And because of that, I do what I do, which might not be the wisest choice I’ve ever made.
With a battle cry, I run from behind Dylan’s back, heading straight for Venetia, claws out.
I know Marc has issues – it’s fairly obvious he’s mentally ill. But Venetia is the mastermind behind all of this, the one with the vendetta. And in that moment, I am so consumed with absolute anger and hatred for the woman, I simply cannot help myself.
I go straight for her, claws out.
She shrieks when my nails hit her, but she soon regains her composure and she’s ready to fight me. The place where she yanked my hair out starts aching as she grips a few locks in a death grip once more, but I go straight for her face, aiming for her eyes with my sharp nails.
I can hear the shouting behind us, the sounds of a scuffle and I presume the two men are fighting, too. Venetia snarls in my face as we both go down, neither of us having the upper hand, but constantly fighting to beat one another at our sick game.
“You’ll pay, you sick bitch,” she snarls in my face and I spit in her face, so she shrieks out loud.
“I’ve paid plenty of times. Haven’t you had enough?” I stop wrestling her for a moment, hoping to talk some sense into her. But as soon as her hateful eyes land on mine, I know mine is a wasted effort.
She wants to destroy me, and she won’t stop before she does.
I know I’m bleeding and bruised, but I keep fighting her, going for all the sensitive spots in the hopes of finally taking her down. I can feel someone pulling me off her harshly, but I don’t give way. I grip on to her hair and hold on for dear life, refusing to let go and reveling in her shrieks of pain.
Then, a deafening sound.
And after that, silence. And it’s more powerful than any noise either of us could ever make.
My eyes go down to my body and I realize I’m not holding Venetia any longer. Instead, my hands and the front of me are covered in blood. I stare at them in wonder as Venetia slumps against me, her hateful eyes locked on mine.
I stare at her as she opens her mouth and bl
ood gurgles out of it, the dark bubbles of the thick liquid forming on her lips as she tries to speak.
Her hands clutch me, but she isn’t strong. There’s blood leaking out of her mouth, her body. She’s going to be gone soon.
All of this registers in my mind, though I have no idea what is going on. All I see, all I can think about, is Venetia’s life seeping out of her veins right in front of my eyes.
“Pay,” she gurgles, her mouth filling with blood quicker and quicker. “Now you pay.”
I let her body slump to the floor, her arms falling down on her sides as she crumples on herself.
“Yes, Venetia,” I say quietly. “It’s time for some of us to pay.”
And I look right into her eyes as she dies.
Then, a horrible shriek pierces the room, and I’m tossed aside like a rag doll as Marc rushes forward, gripping Venetia’s body in his strong hands.
“No, no, no,” he keeps repeating, and it is only then that my eyes find Dylan. He is standing dumbfounded by the door, bloodied and battered. The gun is lying at his feet.
I rush towards him, forgetting about Venetia and Marc, only caring about the man I love.
“He shot her,” he whispers incredulously. “He was aiming for you, but you moved … and he hit her. He hit Venetia, and now she’s gone.”
I hold him close as I feel his body break down, staring at his siblings in front of him – one dead, one crying and shouting when he realizes what he has done.
I watch the unbecoming of all three of the Rawlings children, falling to pieces right in front of me, as the sirens of police cars come closer and closer.
*
The police are on the scene of the crime in moments, and at that point, we’re all frozen in the aftermath of what happened. Slowly, they pry Dylan from my arms and we’re taken to the hospital once again. It seems like all we do is go in and out, back and from the hospital.
My last memory from that beautiful house, the one that served as such a lovely home to the two of us, even if for such a short time, is of Marc.