Falling Away

by Penelope Douglas

  My hand fell to her tit, and I continued pumping her pussy with my finger faster and faster.

  “Jax,” she whimpered. “Jax, please. I can’t.”

  I turned her around and pushed my body into hers against the wall perpendicular to the window. “Yes, you can,” I said, staring into her eyes and moving my hand to the front, continuing to finger her.

  I could feel her nipples pressing through my T-shirt, and I looked down to admire her. Everything below my stomach swirled in a storm of raw energy.

  Damn, she was nice to look at. Her breasts were slightly bigger than average, and on her frame they were probably bigger than they should be.

  “No.” She shook her head, her eyes fluttering with what my finger was doing. “I can’t. I can never come, Jax. Not with someone else.”

  I plastered my body to hers, forcing her mouth up to mine as I whispered against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about your asshole ex. You hear me?” And then I narrowed my eyes, looking down on her. “Wait. What do you mean ‘someone else’? You can come by yourself. Is that what you meant?”

  Oh, Jesus. Add that to the list of things I wanted her to do when we were in the bedroom.

  She looked away out the window, but she didn’t stop fucking my hand.

  “Look at me.” I pulled her head back to face me. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

  Her eyes fell to the side, out the window again, and I could tell she was still loving the feel of my finger in her. She watched the people below us and grabbed my waist, continuing to grind into me.

  “You like having them right there, don’t you?” I asked, following her gaze outside. “It’s okay, you know? There are no rules, Juliet. A pane of glass separates you from them seeing everything. It’s okay if that gets you off. Now tell me, what do you think about when you finger yourself?”

  Her eyes shot to mine. “Jax.” She shook her head. “I …”

  “Say it.” My lips tightened. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

  “I think about you,” she rushed out, breathless. “I think about if I had let you give me a ride home two years ago, but you didn’t take me home.”

  I closed my eyes, letting my forehead fall into the wall by her head.

  “Jesus, keep going,” I begged, rubbing her clit. “I want to see if your fantasy matches mine.”

  I’d thought about that night a lot over the years. I’d been disappointed when she wouldn’t let me drive her home, and I definitely hadn’t gone back to finish what I’d started with the two girls. I’d let them crash, and I went to shower and jerk off to the fantasy of K.C. peeling off that white summer dress in the backseat of my car.

  I circled the hard nub of her clit faster and faster, feeling the pulse tap, tap, tap against my fingertips.

  “You told me that you were going to kiss me,” she started. “Just one time before I left for college, and I wanted you to,” she whispered, her breaths shaky as I slid my finger into her pussy and came out to work her clit. “I wanted it so bad,” she continued. “But I couldn’t talk. The next thing I knew you took me to the falls. And you kissed me. Between my thighs.”

  Fucking hell.

  Her voice grew stronger, bolder. “You lifted up my dress, Jax. And your tongue licked me up and down,” she whimpered, sucking in a breath. “And I held your head there, because I didn’t want you to stop.”

  She cried out and I knew she was coming. Her hips thrust into my hand, and she moved her hands up to my shoulders, digging her nails in.

  I put my lips against her hot cheek. “And then what did I do to you?”

  She let her head fall back as she moaned. “You turned me over the hood of the car onto my stomach,” she cried, “you yanked up my dress, and then you fucked me.”

  Her mouth fell open, her eyes squeezed shut, and she cried out, moaning and gasping. I plunged my finger back inside her, feeling her body tighten and release around me, throbbing her quick pulse on my finger.

  “Jesus,” I groaned, kissing her forehead and absorbing her body shuddering and shaking.

  Her head fell into my chest, and I held her as her breathing slowed down.

  “Jax, I—” She sounded nervous.

  “Shh. Relax,” I said, even though my heart was still pounding like crazy, and my dick still hadn’t come down.

  I pulled my shirt over my head and slipped it onto her, since her shirt was useless now. Sliding her limp arms in, she didn’t protest when I picked her up and carried her into my room.

  “No more fun tonight.” I tried to keep my voice gentle, but they were the hardest words I’d ever had to utter. I wanted to strip, crawl under the sheets with her, mold my body to hers, and bury myself deep in her warmth all night.

  “I don’t prey on girls that just ended five-year relationships, okay?” I said. “You’ve got time before I really start trying. Maybe tomorrow night.”

  “Great,” she mumbled, sounding sarcastic but cute.

  Laying her down, I shut off the light and kissed her lips. “Go to sleep. I just have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back up soon.”

  Her eyes closed, and the two ever-present little wrinkles between her eyebrows disappeared as I watched her drift away.

  “Jax!”

  Someone pounded on my door, causing me to jerk. “Jax, you in there?”

  CHAPTER 10

  JULIET

  I shot up in bed, fisting the sheet, as Jax strode for the door, whipping it open.

  Looking over, I saw a young guy, nicely styled black hair, tattoos scaling down both arms, with several facial piercings. He peered around Jax, taking notice of me, and I immediately pulled the sheet up, embarrassed. I was fully clothed, but I was still trying not to be “that girl.”

  Yeah, I needed to get over that.

  “A couple of the guys have someone cornered downstairs,” he said to Jax. “Apparently someone saw him putting something in a girl’s drink. You want to deal with this?” he asked Jax, and then looked at me again. “Or you want us to handle it?”

  Meaning Jax looked busy.

  This guy wasn’t being snide or suggestive. He was asking Jax as though looking for orders. I turned away, shaking my head.

  “Juliet, stay here,” Jax commanded, and I jerked my stunned gaze over to him just as he slammed the door shut.

  Um, what? My eyes burned like light sabers at the closed door, and I clenched the black sheet. Was he serious?

  Yeah. No. I wasn’t following orders like Jaxon Trent’s latest toy.

  Throwing off the covers, I went to the mirror and smoothed my messy hair, pushing away the delicious burn of him pulling it earlier. Then I tucked in the front and back hem of his T-shirt so it wouldn’t make me look as though I had nothing on underneath. It wasn’t particularly baggy, but it was long as hell.

  I turned to leave but stopped, noticing two pictures peeking out from underneath a wooden box on top of his dresser. I reached over and pulled them up, studying the women in the images. One picture was old, an actual photograph of a girl—maybe sixteen or seventeen—wearing a defiant look on her face and a Cure T-shirt. Next to her sat an older guy—early twenties—with a cigarette in his hand. He had Jax’s eyes.

  The second photo was a rack card, advertising a club in Chicago that held some kind of show. The woman in the images was dark and beautiful, dressed in a black corset and top hat. She was hanging in the air above a full crowd, but I couldn’t tell what was holding her up.

  I looked between the two pictures, seeing the resemblance between the women.

  I quickly stuffed the photos back where I found them and walked for the door.

  Stepping out of the room, I turned the corner and descended the stairs. The party was still going strong—it was only a little after midnight after all—but the crowd had thinned. I didn’t see Shane, Madoc, or Fallon anywhere, and I was little pissed off about that. My cousin, at least, should’ve checked in with me before she ditched me.

&nb
sp; A few people lingered around the pool table, in the foyer, and I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Everyone seemed heavily relaxed as they barely noticed me.

  Five Finger Death Punch’s “Battle Born” droned out of the speakers, and I walked out the front door in my bare feet, ready to just go home, when I reared back, planting my footstep back where it came from.

  Holy shit!

  “Jax! Whoo!” someone cheered, and I sucked in air and pinched my eyebrows together in horror.

  Jax’s naked back faced me as he hunched on the ground, slamming his fist into some poor guy’s face. Well, not poor guy if he was the one slipping drugs to an unknowing girl, but poor guy because he was obviously down, and Jax wasn’t stopping.

  His arm shot back, the muscles in his triceps and back bulged, and his fist hammered down right on the guy’s face. Again and again, and I fought against the pitching sensation in my stomach.

  When Jax brought his fist back again, I saw blood, and I raced down to the walkway at the bottom of the steps, thinking it might be his.

  Wiping his bloody fist on his jeans, he stepped up, bringing his victim with him by the collar.

  I veered around the crowd that had gathered and hugged myself against a chill that didn’t come from the air. Jax dug in the guy’s pocket, bringing out a few small vials of liquid, and handed them to the same guy who’d come to Jax’s room.

  The dealer wobbled back and forth, blood dripping down his lips and chin, and Jax hovered down on him, damn near pressing the guy into the ground with the anger in his eyes. His lips moved, and he whispered something in the dealer’s face, but I couldn’t hear it. I doubted anyone could, and I knew there was a reason for that.

  People shouted threats they never intended to keep. Others whispered threats they didn’t want witnesses to hear.

  Dropping his hands, Jax talked to Tattoo Guy while everyone started to disperse. Then he turned around and locked eyes with me.

  “I told you to stay upstairs.” His voice was quiet but hard and annoyed.

  I dropped my eyes, trying not to see all the blood. “I think I’ll go home. I’m not even sure I want to know you right now.”

  Some girls may want a tough guy. An alpha dog who pushes them around. Someone who beats up drug dealers on their front lawn. It struck me that I’d simply like someone who didn’t attract drug dealers in the first place.

  “You already know me. Intimately.” He smirked.

  Several bystanders laughed, and I glared at Jax.

  “That doesn’t mean you know me,” I bit out.

  He stepped into my face. “And witnessing me pummel a nineteen-year-old guy who gave a sixteen-year-old girl GHB so he could do who knows what to her body doesn’t mean you know me, either, K. C. Carter.” He drawled out my sister’s name, trying to piss me off. “You can leave now.”

  “Ohs” filled the air around me, and I stared at Jax as I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth, fuming.

  I could say it was the fight that had pissed me off. Or I could say it was the plethora of questions without answers that had made the bug crawl up my butt.

  But it wasn’t either one.

  If he had come up to me and put his arms around me, looking at me as if I were the Christmas present he’d been waiting for as he had done in that room, I would’ve folded. I wouldn’t have cared that he got into fights or that he was a complete mystery.

  What shut me down was the fact that I was disposable to him. Just like to my mother. To Liam. To most people who looked through me as if I were a piece of glass.

  Fuck him.

  I walked past him, not saying a word as I headed toward Tate’s house.

  “Are you okay?” Fallon rushed up and touched my shoulder. “I just came out and caught the tail end of that. Anything I can do?”

  I nodded, still walking. “Yeah. Get Madoc’s car keys, and get Shane. We’re going on a midnight run.”

  Homicides occur more frequently during the summer. Little-known fact, but it’s true.

  The irritation of the heat drives people to lose their cool—no pun intended—and they end up reacting in ways they might not in more temperate conditions. Sunshine blinds you, sweat trickles down your back, and your body heat rises, making you uncomfortable. Given the right circumstance—the right person getting in your face—your brain is pushed beyond the breaking point, and you snap.

  All you want is to feel better, and all it takes is a twist of the screw to drive you over the edge.

  Well, all I wanted was to feel.

  Not feel better or feel good. Just feel something. And while I definitely wasn’t itching to kill anyone, I could understand how a little thing like the weather drove people to do things that were out of character.

  It might’ve been Jax who got my blood pumping again, or it might have been being on my own, without my mother or Liam. All I knew was that something was twisting my brain tighter and tighter, and I couldn’t not react anymore. Almost as if it was all out of my control.

  “How many times have you driven a stick?” Fallon asked beside me as we both bobbed forward in Madoc’s car.

  I licked my lips, tasting the sweat on my upper lip and Jaxon Trent still in my mouth. My stomach growled again, but I ignored it, punching into fourth gear.

  “Shut it,” I warned, joking. “I’m still learning.”

  “Madoc’s going to kill me,” she complained, and I saw her cradle her forehead in her hand out of the corner of my eye. “You should’ve let me drive, K.C.”

  “Leave her alone, Fal,” Shane piped up from the backseat as I rounded onto my street. “And her name’s Juliet.”

  I glanced at Fallon, who looked over at me, her light brown hair fanning around her eyes. “Juliet?”

  I arched an eyebrow at her. “No jokes,” I ordered. “It’s my real name.”

  “Why don’t you go by it?” Fallon asked.

  A smile played at the corners of my lips. “I do now.”

  Pressing in the clutch and downshifting, I cruised to an easy stop in front of my—my mother’s—brick Colonial. Looking past Fallon out the window, I found it hard to believe I was only here this afternoon.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Shane asked.

  “You don’t have to come in,” I explained. It was too much to ask them to get involved with this. “I just need to get my journals out of my room. It’s more than I can carry in one trip. If you’re willing, I thought we could all do it quickly,” I said as more of an apology but quickly added, “But you definitely don’t have to. My mother will be a pain the ass.”

  “Ooooh.” Fallon rubbed her hands together, smiling. “Pain-in-the-ass moms. My specialty.”

  “I’m down.” Shane leaned over the seat, looking at me. “Let’s do this.”

  I inhaled a deep breath and tucked my chin down to calm my nervousness. Climbing out of the car, I stared at the dark house as I waited for Fallon and Shane to follow me out and then started around the car toward the front lawn. I smiled to myself, kind of liking the feeling of them behind me. Kind of as though they’d catch me if I fell.

  It reminded me of Tate, and I wished she was here.

  “How’s your dad doing?” Tate asks me as we walk home from school.

  I shrug, holding on to my backpack straps. “The same. Sometimes he remembers me. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

  It’s Monday afternoon, and we’ve just finished our last class, freshman PE. And thank goodness for that! If I had PE earlier in the day, my mother just might show up to ensure that I showered, and then she’d bring me a freshly pressed set of clothes. At least this way, I can just come straight home, shower, and never have my friends find out what a spaz my mom is.

  “It’s hard to think of you as Juliet,” Tate teases. I’d only just told her about my dad and the deal with my name a week ago.

  “Just stick with K.C.,” I tell her. “It’s what I’m used to.”

  “Out of the way!” someone growls, and we both jump, huddling to
gether, as Jared Trent zooms past on his dirt bike. He stands up, pedaling and scowling back at Tate. His deep brown hair blows in his eyes, but you can still see the hatred blazing out of them.

  “Jared Trent!” I belt out. “You’re so dumb you’d trip over a cordless phone!”

  I hear Tate snort, but then she chides, “Don’t piss him off. He takes it out on me.” But then her eyes dart up. “Oh, crap.”

  I look up the street to see Jared swerving his bike in a circle and coming back at us.

  My eyes go round. “Run,” I order.

  And Tate and I shoot off, up the sidewalk and into the grass, as my backpack bounces against my tailbone and Tate grabs my hand, squealing.

  I start laughing as we scurry, and I don’t even look back to see where Jared is. Vaulting up the steps, we crash through my front door and slam it shut, gasping for breath and laughing.

  “Stop antagonizing him,” Tate commands, but her face glows with amusement.

  I drop my backpack to the floor, my chest rising and falling hard. “He’s an asshole, and you’re awesome.”

  “K.C.!”

  I jerk to the stairs, straightening my back immediately.

  “Yes, Mother.” I look up and then to the floor. My mother descends the stairs, and I can already smell her perfume.

  She doesn’t have to say anything. I used vulgar language, and it was unacceptable.

  “Tatum, honey,” my mother greets as she comes up in front of us. “Nice to see you. What a darling little tank top.”

  And I turn my head away from them, cringing as my eyes fill with tears. My mother hates her tank top, and Tate knows it. Embarrassment heats my face, and I clench my fists, wanting to shove my mother away.

  But I grit my teeth and turn back. Tate wears a tight white cami underneath a loose black tank top. The top features a white skull with a Native American headdress of beads and feathers.

  “Yeah.” I swallow. “I like the skull on it. I was hoping I could borrow it.”

  Tate’s uncomfortable eyes shift to me, and my mother arches an eyebrow. If we were alone, I would’ve been hit.