“No. This is a dick. One begging to be inside you.”
Letting go of her other arm, thumb moving under her jaw, he moved her to face him again. Positioning his fingers on the side of her neck, keeping a gentle yet firm hold, he relished her under his grasp. “Go ahead and kiss me, Jayla. Find out what happens next.”
His fingertips caught the motion of her throat as she swallowed. Her body tensed under him, her eyes widening ever so, before she took a breath, and relaxed. Her chest rose, her breasts lifting, inadvertently offering themselves to him. The brown of her eyes nearly eclipsed by their black pupils.
His imagination pushed her against the wall, taking her mouth, her breasts, holding her hands above her head, trapping her. She’d wiggle, not truly trying to escape, just escalating their game of cat and mouse. He wouldn’t let her. Not until she begged for him. He’d fuck her against the wall until she screamed his name.
Sirena’s voice cut through their standoff. “How about a round of red-headed sluts!” she exclaimed, walking inside, Snow right behind her.
At the sound, Jayla pushed herself away, cheeks flaming.
Refusing to avert his gaze, he toyed with her, licking his lips before pulling the bottom between his teeth, unabashedly looking her up and down.
Her chest rose with staggered breaths, in an attempt to minimize her arousal, but as she met his gaze, a fresh crop of goosebumps trailed up her skin. She wasn’t fooling anyone.
He imagined her wetness — how she would smell, taste. The sweet scent of her skin mixed with a tanginess all her own.
Groaning to himself, he shifted. Her eyes followed his motions, mesmerized, as he ran his palm down the length of his erection before readjusting himself so his hardness wouldn’t be as apparent. Or painful against the confines of his jeans.
Teasing her once again, he smirked and lifted her chin. “Eyes up here, Princess.”
Alistair had gone and turned their innocent flirtation into something much more, opening the floodgates of her arousal.
When Sirena and Snow called the group inside for drinks, she followed them back to the seating area. He sat next to her, his thighs brushing against hers. She was acutely aware of his body, of his closeness. Clearing her throat, she reached for a shot, struggling to regain control over herself.
“So, guys and dolls, what are we up to?” Sirena asked.
Her gaze flitting around the circle of friends, Jayla couldn’t help the heat upon her cheeks at the idea of anyone witnessing the stolen moment with Alistair.
Raising the shot glass to his mouth, Gene downed the liquid and smirked. Pretending to tip a cowboy hat, he replied with a mock accent. “I don’t know ’bout you ladies, but I reckon since I’ll be working closely with ya’ll, I’d like to get to know ye a bit.”
“Feel free to ignore him,” Alistair spoke to the group, rolling his eyes. Snaking his arm around Jayla’s back, he pulled her closer to his side. “Whatever you do, don’t encourage him. He’ll never stop.”
“Never stopping is my gift,” Gene admitted, wiggling his brows toward Cynthia — who rolled her eyes in response.
“And what is it you’d reckon you’d like to know?” Cyn asked in response, pulling off a much more polished southern drawl.
“About you? Everything, gorgeous.”
“You couldn’t handle everything about me,” she cocked a brow, downing her shot.
Gene’s smirk widened to a full smile. “Darlin’, don’t tempt me. I’ll have you wondering where I’m hiding your handle bars before you can even bat an eyelash.”
“Please,” Cyn commented, unperturbed. “I wear heels larger than your dick.”
The group erupted in laughter.
Following the exchange in silence, Jayla caught herself smirking. Despite his blatant innuendo, Gene didn’t come off as sleezy — his smirk, his tone, so similar to Alistair she couldn’t help but compare the two. Both large, striking men, turning on the charm like no others. Their words, their expressions promised mischief — and pleasure.
She wouldn’t bet against them delivering on their promise.
“Not very original, darlin’. I’ll let you try again,” Gene said, putting his shot glass back on the tray.
Cyn’s head tilted. “Oh, honey. You really should save your breath. You’ll need it for your next date.”
Alistair and Aleksandr burst out laughing at the comeback.
Gene leaned in toward Cyn. “Last I checked, you were the one buying a stand-in for the real thing,” he commented, voice dropping as he teased her. “You let me know if they didn’t make one good enough for you.”
A slow smile graced Cyn’s lips. She ran her hand up his arm, her fingertips drawing lines up and around his shoulders. “Don’t be jealous, darlin’. I tend to wear out the plastic ones, too.”
Gene’s head shook side to side, his tone implying his appreciation. “I’m sure you do.”
Enjoying the back and forth, Jayla couldn’t help but notice their heated gazes and wonder if it was more than just innocent flirting. Cyn had a boyfriend, but Jayla knew attraction when she saw it. These two definitely had something brewing between them.
Alistair laughed, breaking into the conversation. “Enough, Romeo. Leave the poor girl alone. She doesn’t need to be subjected to your level of kink.”
Turning, Gene’s mouth opening in mock outrage, he placed his hand over his heart. “My level?” Looking pointedly at Jayla, he smiled. “Don’t fret. Your man here taught me how to leave a perfect pink palm print on a woman’s behind. No hint of bruising.”
What?
“What does that mean?” she asked, her body shifting away as she directed her comment to Alistair.
“You mean you didn’t tell her, li’l buddy?” Dropping his hand to his stomach, Gene laughed loudly.
A tick in his jawline indicated Alistair’s gritting teeth. “No.”
Gene wiped his eyes and just laughed louder.
Aleksandr spoke, a glimmer of amusement on his face as he did. “We better get out of here before they start on us,” he commented to Belle, kissing her.
Sirena made a gagging sound. “No one wants to go there. I just thank my lucky stars your office is soundproofed.”
Blushing, Belle moved away from Aleks. “Let’s play some games,” she offered, looking around the group.
Needing space, Jayla nodded, standing to grab another glass of Champagne, and changing her seat to move next to Snow.
Kicking herself internally, Jayla’s heart dropped. Hitting women, she scoffed to herself. They’re all the fucking same.
Chapter Thirteen
Two agonizing hours later, Jayla entered her bedroom for the evening. A room larger than any of the apartments she’d lived in over the past five years.
The “games” had actually been quite fun. All involved drinking, of course, leaving Jayla buzzing from alcohol. By the time they got to “Never Have I Ever”, she’d loosened up, nearly forgetting her anger.
“You mean you’ve never, in your whole life, had a massage?” Belle had asked, mouth open in shock after Jayla took a sip after the fairly innocuous question.
Laughing, Jayla shook her head. “Am I really missing that much? Aren’t they expensive?”
“Oh, doll. I know exactly what to get you for your birthday,” Snow added, winking.
They went around the room, asking each other questions. Jayla had a suspicion as the game went on, the questions would get raunchier. Of course, Cyn proved her right.
“Okay, Alistair, you’re up,” Cyn said, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decide what to ask him. “Never have I ever … participated in a threesome.”
“Liar,” Belle snickered, under her breath.
Cyn looked toward Alistair, nodding for him to answer as she took a sip herself.
Jayla didn’t want to care about any of his answers, usually turning away when it was his turn. The revelation that he hit women had ended all hope of anything between them — but when he lifted
the glass to take a sip of his beer, her traitorous stomach turned. Jealousy wasn’t her style, yet the thought of him with two women … doing … She shook her head, trying to clear the feeling. He hits them, Jayla. Stop caring.
It had been her cue to bow out. The questions would only continue to become more personal and sexual in nature and she couldn’t risk accidentally revealing anything about her past. And the thought of having to hear about Alistair’s sexual deviancies killed her buzz.
Now, readying for bed, Jayla changed, making her way into the bathroom. Splashing water against her face, she took stock of herself in the mirror. Belle, always generous, had left each of the girls a “thank you” package on their beds — a beautiful negligee.
Reveling in the silk fabric covering her torso, she ran her hands down her sides. The spaghetti-strapped turquoise chemise allowed just the hint of her dark nipples to show through the fabric. Ending mid-thigh, it fit her like a glove, showing off her curves. And more of her tattoos.
A surprising perk from the material? The lace rubbing against her sensitive breasts, keeping their peaks at full attention. Material — or the nipple gel, she thought to herself, smiling from the memory of the toy presentation.
Sighing and pulling the pin out of her hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders, she watched herself in the mirror. It’s so pretty, she thought of the lingerie, saddened she’d never allow a man to see her in it. The color complimented the tones of her skin and contrasted her eyes, making them appear to glow in the mirror.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door.
Snow. She laughed, shaking her head. Snow had joked earlier the size of the castle scared her. If you’re too scared to sleep alone, just come find me, Jayla had offered, knowing Snow would take her up on it.
“What took you so long?” she asked, as she opened the door.
It wasn’t Snow.
Alistair cocked his head. “Didn’t realize you were expecting me, Princess.”
“It wasn’t you I was hoping for. What do you want?” she asked.
Her disgust was momentarily sated at the slack-jawed look on his face when he registered her attire.
Lips parting, his eyes raking over her body, she saw his chest rise with an inhale. The gaze that met hers, burning. The motion of his Adam’s apple moving up and down his throat caught her attention, and against her will her body responded. Goosebumps littered her skin, her already taut nipples straining even further against the fabric. Which, by the flash of his gaze to her breasts, he noticed.
Her pulse throbbed at the ability to render him speechless, yet she refused to fall prey to his darkened looks again. Crossing her arms, inadvertently — possibly — pushing her breasts higher, she leaned her weight onto one hip.
“Eyes up here, Princess,” she taunted, repeating his earlier line.
With obvious effort, his gaze met hers again. “J-Jayla,” he stuttered, licking his lips, his hand raking through his hair to his neck, rubbing the muscle there. Clearing his throat, he spoke again, confidence restored.
“We need to talk,” he ordered, taking her by surprise.
“No, we don’t.”
Ignoring her, he continued, “I didn’t want to do this here, tonight, but you’ve been ignoring me. And then earlier … we need to clear the air.”
Arms tightening against her body, his wording and tone only added fuel to her already bristling fire.
“Excuse me?” she seethed, her question asked through her teeth.
Straightening, his gaze flitted back to her breasts before looking back up. If she weren’t so pissed, the fact he couldn’t keep his eyes off her would have been amusing.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for days. You keep bailing on me.”
“Bailing?” Her arms dropped to her hips. Alcohol and fire in her veins, she exploded. “Want to talk about bailing? How about promising to be there for me and disappearing. You lied to me.”
“Jayla—”
“Although, I guess lying’s better than what you normally do, right? Hit women? What … when they get out of line? For fun? Prick.”
She tried to slam the door, but he was too quick, his hand shoving back against it, keeping it open.
“What?” he asked
“What to which part?” Removing one hand from the door, using her fingers to count. “Here, I’ll repeat. One, you’re a liar. Two, you’re unreliable. Three, you’re a prick. I want nothing to do with you.” She ended by flashing him a sarcastic saccharine smile and attempting to close the door again.
He wouldn’t allow it. Pushing harder, he sent the door backwards, stepping into the room. “Look who’s talking.”
“Excuse me?”
“Want to talk about liars? How about you, Jayla.” Pausing, a sarcastic smile graced his lips. “Jayla … what made you pick that name, anyway.”
Throat closing, she stuttered, “Wh … what?”
If he found my real identity, Jeffrey … Jeffrey…
Stepping back, her breath caught, her lungs seizing. Her pulse skyrocketed and the room began to spin.
Jeffrey knows where I am.
Hand flying to her throat, she couldn’t swallow. Five. Five sounds…
Five sounds…
Darkness around the outside of her vision wavered, her veins tingling.
Five…
Her chest wouldn’t expand. Not enough air.
Come here, Jasmine. My pussycat. Jeffrey’s voice ran through her mind, as loud as if he were speaking with her directly.
She looked around her kitchen, the salty scent of the ocean flooding her system, as his footsteps echoed in their hallway. Turning through the entrance, his sneer landed on her, pulling the knife from the block.
“No … I can explain,” she whispered, taking a step back. Moving with her, his cruel scowl crossed his features. Her heart raced, her chest throbbing with each beat.
She hit the cool tile of the wall. Trapped.
His sour breath puffed into her face, her hand instinctively lifting to shield her face, leaving her abdomen unprotected. “Please—”
Her plea was cut off by the intensity of the searing burn of the knife plunged into her side. It sliced clean through, her body throbbing around the wound. Warm blood trickled down her side.
Hot tears burned her cheeks, knees buckling. She was falling into darkness. Any minute now, it would be over. Left to bleed out against their pristine white floors. Or worse, left alive.
Trying to hold onto consciousness, she couldn’t. She was falling…
Falling…
Chapter Fourteen
“Jayla?” Alistair called, lowering his voice. Stepping back from him, she visibly trembled, tears running down her face.
“No…” she whispered followed by a strangled cry. He could tell by the blank stare, she wasn’t focusing correctly.
“Jayla, it’s okay. It’s okay, Princess,” he cooed, hoping she could recognize his voice.
Fuck.
Stepping with her, slowly, he watched her hit the back wall of the room. Not wanting to crowd her, he continued to speak softly, trying to coax her out of … wherever she was right now.
He thought of Gene, knowing he’d suffered a number of flashbacks since returning home. Hell, he’d witnessed one, on the Fourth of July — fireworks had triggered Gene into a full-blown panic attack, followed by throwing himself onto the ground, convinced the sounds were missiles.
Jayla’s body language was identical, her mind obviously disconnected from the present moment as she struggled to breathe. He should probably go for help, but he didn’t dare leave her, even for a minute.
Uncertain she could even hear him, he continued to speak. “It’s just me, Jayla. It’s Alistair. Come back to me. You’re safe here.”
Her body slumped against the wall, her hands raising to her face, shielding herself.
Double fuck.
When her body slid, he rushed forward, catching her before she dropped to the
floor. One arm under her knees, the other behind her back, he walked her to the bed. Sitting, he held her on his lap, his hand running over her hair, down her back, as he tried to soothe her.
“You’re safe, Princess. You’re safe,” he whispered, over and over.
What could possibly…
Like a freight train, the obvious answer hit him. His stomach turned at his stupidity.
Wouldn’t answer questions. “Witness-protection level shit”.
Protecting her face.
Why hadn’t he put the pieces together earlier? Instead of understanding, he’d called her out, sent her spiraling into the memories she was running from.
You’re a fucking asshole, Al, he chided himself, wishing he could take back the way he confronted her. All he could do was wait as he continued to rub her hair, rocking her gently as she shook in his arms.
Who did this to you, Jayla?
Body swaying, Jayla hummed, trying to soothe herself.
I’m safe.
The words were not her own, but they repeated in her mind, over and over, as she registered movement through her hair. Calming, repetitive motions.
This feels nice.
Burrowing, she inhaled. Smells so good.
Light filtered through the slits of her eyelids. Not recognizing her surroundings, she blinked rapidly. A large room, decorated in grays, whites, and blues. A weight around her registered, pulling her into warmth.
Why am I rocking?
Lifting her head, she gazed into a set of deep chocolate eyes.
“Alistair?” she asked, uncertain why she was against him. Sitting on him.
Suddenly, the present crashed around her, regaining full consciousness. He was angry with her, she yelled at him, and then … and then…
Shit.
“There you are,” he spoke quietly, smiling. “Thought I’d lost you.”
She remembered her anger, but as she looked into his eyes, none of it remained. His warmth, his arms, his scent — she didn’t want to move.
Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2) Page 9