by Joya Ryan
“Shhh, hang on, Kitten,” Cal said in a soothing voice, catching me in the middle of one of my paces and pulling me into his arms. He cupped my face. “You did everything you could. You told the truth, but you can’t make people believe you. She’s an adult and has to make the call for herself.”
“I hate this,” I whispered. “It doesn’t quit. This emptiness, this pain and fear and anger. It won’t go away. Just when I think things are getting better…”
Something very serious and very sad crossed his features. He just continued holding my face and stroking my hair with his fingers.
“Why do I feel so out of control?”
“Because the world isn’t fair and sometimes assholes get the upper hand.” He ran his thumb along my cheek. “You’re a fighter. He can’t win over you. It may be hard now, but in the end: He. Won’t. Win. Do you hear me?”
I shook my head, my teeth gritting together and my skin drumming with emotions. Once I was scared, hell, maybe a part of me still was, which was why I was mad. I was tired of being afraid. Tired of moving forward only to have the rug pulled out from under me. Tired of gaining a sense of calm and control and power, only to have it threatened.
I was so angry, the only thing I could hear was blood rushing to my ears.
“I want to fight. I want to scream and throw things,” I said.
“I know.”
I needed to get my power back. Nothing tonight had played out how I thought it would, and I was bone-chilling mad. And my heart felt on the brink of exploding.
I grabbed Cal’s shirt in my fist and yanked him down for a kiss, only I bit his lips more than kissed them. He groaned, but pulled back.
“I don’t think this is a good idea right now,” he said. Which only made my fury rise.
“Do you not want me?”
“It has nothing to do with that.”
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “You’re not my corner to hide in, remember?”
His jaw clenched, clearly not liking me throwing his words back at him.
“I’m not looking to hide.” I gripped his shirt tighter and pushed so he walked backwards to my bedroom. When we near the bed, I unfastened his belt and tugged his shirt off. “This is what I’m looking for,” I said, and kissed his bare chest. He was warm and hard, and I had way too many vicious feelings to be soft.
Running my hands along his chiseled torso, I licked and bit his pec, then sucked his nipple hard. His fingers dove into my hair and he groaned low.
“Whatever you want,” he groaned.
I couldn’t get enough. With every swipe of my tongue, the fire of anger eased and the fire of lust rose. I needed Cal, and all his strength and understanding. Needed him to let me have him. To have me. Needed out of what had just happened and to escape.
I bit down his abs, taking each muscle into my mouth to suck briefly, and I traveled lower to his sexy hips.
“I want you so much,” I said, hitting my knees and licking the V of his lower torso. I grabbed his jeans and yanked down, his cock springing free. I instantly sucked the massive head into my mouth.
“Fuck, Lana!” he cried to the ceiling. I loved hearing my name on his mouth, feeling all this strength within my grip. My control. It was drugging and I didn’t know or care who I was turning into. I just knew that I needed Cal and wouldn’t be sated until every ounce of aggression was worked out.
I sucked him deeper, tonguing along his impressive length as I went, looking up and watching his hard abs flex and that tattoo move as he tensed with pleasure. It was pleasure I was giving him. I needed an outlet, and he was it.
Taking his cock as deep as I could, I grabbed his ass in one hand, pulling him closer, while scouring my other down his stomach. He hissed. Little red welts were left where my fingernails made their path from his sternum to his hip.
He didn’t try to thrust or take over. He just held on to my head, fingers wrapped in my hair and let me do what I wanted. Use him how I needed, and I did just that. And something deep in my chest warmed a degree. Cal was standing there, taking every single ounce of pain and frustration I had. Helping me. Taking the burden. Asking nothing in return.
No control. No dominance. Just let me feel how I felt.
I bobbed my head, taking him faster and deeper, pulling him as close as I could. I was ravenous, loving on his cock like it was the best thing in the world, because it was. I wanted to be everything he wanted. Wanted to control his pleasure.
I pulled away enough for him to pop from my mouth and I trailed my tongue down the outside of his shaft, not stopping until I hit the very base. I sucked and licked his balls, and that got his fingers in my hair to tighten.
“I’m so close,” he said.
“Good. I want you come for me.” I took his cock back into my mouth and sucked hard. He groaned and his release instantly hit the back of my throat.
His big body shuddered, all those muscles flexing, and I loved watching him come apart. Because of me. Because I pleasured him. Because I let him.
It was a heady idea, and a sense of power washed over me.
When he was spent, he cupped my face and raised me to stand.
“Lana,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine.
“There’s nothing to say right now,” I whispered back and grabbed his wrists. His brows furrowed.
“Maybe not. But we’re not done.”
He pulled off my shirt, then my pants, kicked his shoes and jeans all the way off and lifted me up and walked me to the bed. Throwing the covers back while balancing me in one arm, he laid me down.
“What are you doing?” I asked, as he climbed in with me and pulled the blankets up to our shoulders.
“I told you, we’re not done.”
He pulled me close, those big arms wrapping around me. His warm chest pressed into my back and he hugged me tight. Though I was still in panties and a bra, he was naked, but made no move. He was still. Simply hugging me.
I squirmed a little because part of me wanted to get away. My mind was firing off random thoughts and emotions, and my body was slowly starting to tremble. Like I was chilled. But had no reason to be.
“Cal…” I squirmed, his grip didn’t waver.
“You’re going to crash from all the adrenaline,” he whispered into my ear. “It’s like coming down from a high, and it’s going to hurt. The anger and rage and fuel you had will start to burn out and you’ll feel…”
“Alone,” I said. Because the chills were getting worse. The magnitude of all the events tonight were weighing heavy. The blessed control and power I’d just felt was dwindling fast, leaving behind a sense of emptiness. My eyes hurt like they had been strained from holding back tears for days, maybe years.
“But you’re not alone. I’m right here,” Cal whispered.
I nodded and gave myself over to the crash that was taking over my body. With my cheek against his forearm, I gently shook, and a single tear slipped out.
Cal just held me, and I prayed it was enough to fight the bone-chilling emptiness that was seeping into my veins.
Chapter 12
Chirp
My eyes struggled to open. A weird beeping sound broke through my sleep, coaxing me to wake up. But it wasn’t my phone or my alarm.
Chirp.
I slowly opened my eyes. It almost sounded like a smoke detector. I sat up in bed and looked around. It was morning and I was alone. There was a large indent and ruffled sheets on the other side where Cal had been. For how long, I didn’t know. Did he leave right after I dozed off? Maybe he was still here, just in a different room?
A flare of hope rose.
Grabbing my robe, I got up and walked through the house. Cal was gone. The chirp, however, looked to be coming from the alarm system. I reset it, assuming it probably got messed up when Cal left this morning.
I sat on the couch and replayed last night. A string of emotions flooded and none of it was logical. First, it sucked being ditched. It also didn’t feel great to wo
nder if this was how Cal felt when I’d snuck out on him.
What was the hardest to process wasn’t last night, but how Cal had handled it. He had known, sensed, what I was going through. He also knew what I had needed and let me have it. Then knew how to take care of me after. The way he talked about crashing from that kind of emotional high made me think he must know what it felt like. The man chased after fires for a living, so yeah, pretty sure he knew what an adrenaline crash was.
It was still nice to have him stick around for however long he had. I’d felt such a wide array of random feelings, I don’t know what I would have done without him. It was becoming increasingly clear that how I handled things once, was not how I was handling them now. Timid, shy and afraid were not things I wanted to be. It made me cringe, thinking of how I was only a couple months ago when Brock had first moved back to town.
I refused to let him win or let him hurt anyone else.
A knock came at the door. I frowned and pulled the robe tighter as I looked through the peephole. It was Cal, holding up a bag of doughnuts in one hand and coffee in the other.
I smiled and opened the door.
“Morning, Kitten,” he said, kissing my cheek and handing me a warm cup of coffee. “Thought breakfast would be necessary.”
“I thought you left.”
“Missed me bad, huh?”
I rolled my eyes and followed him into the kitchen. He was so comfortable in my home, and I couldn’t help but like it. Like he wanted to be here. To be with me. Like he fit.
“Okay, so I’ve got everything from maple bars, to sprinkles, to old fashioned,” he said, motioning to the bag of heavenly smelling doughnuts.
“I’ll take a sprinkled one please.”
He handed it to me, and I took it and my coffee and sat on the couch. He followed me. Bringing the entire bag with him.
“Thanks for this,” I said, taking a bite of breakfast.
“Anytime.”
It was funny how easy this was. Cal didn’t seem like a big cooker, but he was thoughtful. He went out and got us something to eat. Didn’t completely ditch out. Not that I could have blamed him. Last night, I acted like a possessed person.
“Um, about last night…” I sat up and he faced me. “I’m sorry if I was weird or over the top.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for anything about what went down last night. Are you feeling better today?”
“Yeah. It’s bizarre thinking back on it. I know I was angry and frustrated, but I felt alive and almost crazed with adrenaline. Even though all this negative stuff spurred these feelings, I needed to physically do something to feel better. I’ve had panic attacks before, but this was nothing like that. I just needed to take control somehow. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, it makes a lot of sense.”
How was this man with blue eyes, stubble, and casual charm still mysterious? I’d gotten a few hints over the months about him, but I wanted to know more. He knew exactly what to do last night, and exactly how to handle whatever it was I’d gone through.
“So, you’ve had these same kind of instances?” I asked, hoping for some more insight into the man I was growing closer to every day.
“I have. Adrenaline can be an addictive thing. It is also surprising. Sometimes just a spark is enough, other times it rages out of control. But chasing it can be half the fun. It can also sneak up on you.”
Yeah, last night was nothing I’d gone chasing after. I was hit with so many different things at once and just snapped.
“You’re a chaser aren’t you?” I asked, my mind flashing to last week in the woods when he’d done just that and caught me.
“I am,” he said with a low tone, as if thinking the same thing.
“Why?”
“Because the high can be amazing,” he said honestly, and his gaze seared straight to my soul. I hoped he was talking about me.
“So, like fires. You chase after fires,” I clarified.
“Fire is one thing, yes. It’s dangerous. I have a sense of control based on training. While I’m in there, I know what to do, what’s in my power, and I execute my job. But there’s always a piece of it that is not up to me. I can contain the fire, not control it. No matter how hard I try.”
I swallowed down a big bite and looked at him with wide eyes. He could contain, not control. Made a lot of sense.
He reached forward and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear.
“The past happened. We can’t hide from it or fix it. We can find things to help us cope. Help us move.”
“Not move on?” I asked, referring to what he had said to me on Halloween. It was the one thing that stuck out with me when it came to Cal. He never once had forced me in a single direction. Didn’t tell me to move on from Brock, my past, my family, or even Jack. Simply to just move.
“Moving on isn’t something I believe in.”
“You really don’t think it’s possible?”
“No. Anything overly painful or joyful leaves equal scars. So, you can move away from them, find ways to deal, but moving on? No.”
It was a bleak outlook, and yet freeing at the same time. I couldn’t change the past, but I could grow as a person, which was the path I was fighting to stay on. A path that had gotten threatened and I’d lost myself.
But for now, I had Cal. He understood me on a level I didn’t realized existed until this moment. Pain hurt. It was science. A reality. Love hurt. Maybe moving on was impossible, but using it to my advantage could be doable.
Brock won’t win over you.
I agreed, because I wouldn’t let him. We may be at a constant battle, but I wouldn’t let him win.
“What are you moving away from when you chase?” I asked.
“Several things,” he said stiffly, as though my question seemed to hit something deep. Then he got up, brushing off his hands. “I start a two on today. So, if you need me, I’ll just be across the street.”
I gave a soft smile. He was clearly done talking about himself, and I was not even close to finished. I wanted to know more. How was he able to understand me? Why did he run? Why was he the way he was? The little information I had was a dangerous thing.
“By the way,” he said, kneeling in front of me to meet me eye to eye. “How do you feel about turkey?”
Odd change of subject, but I answered, “I feel fine about it.”
He smiled. “Good, because my aunt is expecting you for Thanksgiving.”
He kissed my forehead, then headed toward the door.
“Wait, what? I can’t just—”
“You really want to bail on my sweet Aunt Bea?” he said, guilt coating every word. I may not know the woman well, but she was tough as nails, despite her sweetness. His comment did effectively shut me up, though.
“I’ll come pick you up. It’ll just be the three of us. See you Thursday, Kitten.” Tossing me a wink over his shoulder, he shut the front door behind him, knowing full well that he’d just ordered a command, and damn if I wouldn’t follow through.
~
I stared at the canned food aisle and attempted mental math. In one hand was cranberry sauce which was fourteen ounces and in my other hand, literally, was cranberries with juice that was twelve ounces.
I pursed my lips and looked at my options. Bea had said she needed two pounds of cranberries, but did she want that in sauce form? Or juice? And twelve ounces was a pound, right?
Ugh! I went back and forth. “Maybe the sauce would be good…” I muttered to myself. Then looked at the other can. My lack of cooking skills were surpassed only by my lack of shopping skills. I had the basics down. Salads, yogurt, and the occasional hot pocket. Yeah, I ate like I still lived in the dorms, but, honestly, I’d never been taught how to shop or cook, so Harper and I just learned off each other. When I was young living with my dad, we had cup of noodles a lot, and after he married Anita, a cook was part of the staff. I showed up, ate, and left, no one caring or even at the table at the same time usually.
&
nbsp; But, in this case, I was certain I could succeed. In my one foggy memory, my mother had cranberry sauce, and she cut it, there was no juice.
Sauce it was.
I grabbed two cans and put them in my little hand basket. I was actually getting excited about Thanksgiving. Bea and Cal were family, and inviting me into theirs for the day. I loved her house, her warmth, everything about the dynamic they had. She also trusted me with an ingredient for her cranberry sauce, so I was smiling like a goon.
I turned to walk toward the checkout when my stomach bottomed out. My chest felt like a metric ton of gravel had just been dumped on it.
“Dad?”
He faced me, his pressed suit and tie matching his seamless expression. “Hello, Lana.”
I walked up to him faster than I’d meant to, and he took one step back. I glanced at his feet, hoping I hadn’t seen that right. I was going to him, with some kind of…joy?
No, that couldn’t be right. Last time I’d seen him, he’d lied to me, sold me out, and sent his wife to threaten me.
“I called you,” I said. It was after I had found out about Brock and Erica, and for some reason, thought my dad could help. Once again, I was wrong, since he didn’t return my call or show any evidence of having interest in me whatsoever.
“I’ve heard of the issues with your brother, and I just wanted to make sure we were clear on a few things.”
“Brock is my step-brother,” I snapped. “And you stalked me at the grocery store? Why not just call? Or come by? Or send your wife like last time.”
There was the anger I’d been missing. Funny how old habits die hard, and my first instinct was to run to my dad. He wouldn’t be the one I’d run to, not now, or ever again.
“I came to find you,” he said, his voice lowering as he glanced around the canned food aisle. There were two people browsing at the other end, so we were relatively alone, why it mattered, I didn’t know.
“You need to keep your mouth shut about Brock, about the past, about all of it.”
My forehead hurt with how hard I scowled. “That’s what you hunted me down to tell me?”