by Vivian Arend
“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
We sit quietly together, right there in the middle of the kitchen floor. “Everything is going to be okay, you know? School, work, all of it. You’ll figure it out. I know you will and I’ll be there to help as much or as little as you’ll let me. You’ve got this, Emma.”
“No. I haven’t got anything.” She leans against my arm and closes her eyes. “There’s so much I wanted to do and I’m failing at all of it. All my mom wanted was for me to be happy. All my dad wanted was to watch me graduate. They would have hated that I dropped out of school and gave up on my dreams. I’m failing them. There’s just so much and I can’t bear it.”
I pull her on my lap so she’s facing me. She chuffs out a little laugh and rests her forehead against mine. I remember doing this to her when I was the one having trouble holding it together. She helped me pull through that and I’ll help her get through this. Whatever she needs me to do.
“You’re not alone, Em. I’m here. You’re trying to do it all by yourself but that’s too much for anyone. We all need someone strong enough to hold us up when things get too heavy. Someone to be our anchor.”
“Ever since my parents died, I haven’t had an anchor. I’m just adrift. And when I fall, there's no one there to catch me. It's terrifying. There’s so much and I just can’t handle it all. All the worrying. Sometimes I think hitting rock bottom might be a relief.”
“Then give some of it to me. Let me bear it for you. I'm strong enough. I will be your anchor. And I will never let you down.”
There have only been a few times in my life when I’ve truly felt lucky. When my mom beat cancer the first time, when I found out that Finn survived the IED blast that almost took his leg and when Eli gave me a job so I could feel useful again. Those were times when I finally felt like someone upstairs was looking out for our family. Or at least not kicking us when we were down anymore.
But as much as I love my family and my career, they don’t take away the loneliness I’ve felt all my life.
I look down at Emma, her eyes soft and languid as she leans against me. Maybe I’ve found what I need. What I need but didn’t even know to look for.
“Come on, buttercup.”
She doesn’t resist when I lift her and carry her down the hall. She’s so slim, almost too slim in my arms. It makes her seem even more fragile. The most fierce, protective feeling flows through me. I want to put her to bed and watch over her while she sleeps. Protect her and keep her safe from all the things that scare her.
Then she turns her head and takes the lobe of my ear between her teeth and that feeling morphs, shifting into the desire to take her. To keep her safe by keeping her under me.
We’re on a collision course for the bedroom and I’m not stopping until I have her under me again.
She clings to me with her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms around my neck. Soft, fluttery kisses dance along my neck and then her hands are in my hair. She seems to particularly like gripping the thick strands at the base of my neck. Her breasts press against my chest teasing me with the stiff tips of her nipples. I can’t wait to have the tight points on my tongue.
I push open my bedroom door and we tumble on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs. She rolls over and climbs on top me, running her hands over my chest. I sit up briefly to tug her shirt off. Her plain white bra is revealed. It’s not meant to be sexy, just white cotton with no lace or details. With her flyaway cloud of buttery hair and the carnal look on her face, she looks like a naughty angel.
I dip my head and trace the plump flesh spilling over the cups before unhooking the clasp. She moans and her head falls back as I peel it down her arms, exposing miles of creamy skin. I breath deep, nuzzling against her throat. Being with her like this, touching her, tasting her, its’ just as good as the first time. If I’m honest with myself, I can admit that I can’t imagine it ever getting old.
I tug at the waistband of her jeans and she allows me to work them down her hips. While I strip out of my own clothes, she steps out of the little pink panties she’s wearing. This time when she straddles me, there’s nothing between us but skin.
I bite her on the neck and she cries out, the sound echoing in my ears. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down but the smell of her arousal curls through me, driving me higher. Her scent is intoxicating, warm and rich like vanilla.
“You are so beautiful. You stagger me.” I take one of her hands and pressed it between my legs. There’s nothing as arousing as the wonder and erotic curiosity in her big gray eyes as my cock juts into her hand. She caresses it lightly, learning the contours of its length. Then she grips it firmly between her fingers and squeezes. I groan as my cock jumps in her hand.
“You did that to me.” I pull her down to the bed and run my tongue over the smooth skin of her stomach. She smells like spice and sin and tastes even better. I look up over the alluring curves of her body and watch as she arches into my touch. Talk about a hell of a view. With her neck bowed and her long hair curling against the creamy sheets she’s like a siren in my arms, all fire and flame. I want more than just to have her for a tumble. I want to possess her. I want everything she has to give.
I slide my hands under her hips delighting in the way the soft flesh fills my hands. I squeeze the full globes of her ass, rewarded when she moans and tries to inch away from me. I swat the side of her thigh lightly. The look of shock on her face makes me laugh despite how turned on I am. My innocent little angel will be thoroughly shocked in every way possible if she keeps hanging out with me.
The pang that hits me in the chest reminds me of just how badly I want that, too.
“Tank, what are you doing?”
I turn her over until she lays on her front, the tempting lines of her back and ass now easily accessible. I take my time nibbling down her fragrant skin, teasing my tongue over the indentation of her spine. She arches and moans into the touch, her back curving like a cat in heat. When she moves that way her ass pushes back until it fit snugly against my cock.
“I’m giving you what you want. What I know you need.”
She rolls over and raises an eyebrow. The low light filtering in from the open curtains is just enough illumination to highlight the creamy tones of her skin, the perfection of her form.
“What I need huh?” She props herself up on one elbow, her perky little breasts moving with the action. Its’ all I can do to keep from leaning over and taking one of her nipples in my mouth. “I don’t recall asking you for anything.”
I grab a condom from the nightstand. She watches with interest as I roll it down my length. She wiggles her ass slightly and I move behind her again. I nudge against her wet folds, rewarded when she half shrieks, half moans at the contact.
“You will before this night is over. You’ll ask me for things you never imagined.” I move my cock around, playing in her moist folds but avoiding her clit, never quite giving her the stimulation she needs. One finger presses deep, and I grit my teeth as her body clamps down on the digit.
She’s so tight. So fucking tight. I stroke her in long, slow measures using her body’s moisture to ease the way. Before long her hands twist in the sheets and her skin gleams, damp with perspiration.
But she still hasn’t asked for it.
I slip my hands underneath and cup her breasts. They tighten until her nipples are like stiff little berries against my palms. I pull back again, my cock sliding inside her a fraction of an inch. She stills, the muscles in her arms straining as she tries to push back against me. But I’m not letting her off that easy. It’s too good, too hot, this erotic game we’re playing. And I want her begging for it. I hold her off, sliding in and out in shallow thrusts, refusing to give her the deep penetration we both need.
“Stop torturing me.” Her eyes betray her pleasure even as she’s cursing me. She moans and gyrates her hips. She looks so sexy arching into it, her face so open and trusting. I love watching her eyes drift closed as I inch dee
per. She whimpers and her mouth falls open on a pant as she fights for control. She’s close. Too close. I pull out completely.
She slams a fist down against the bed in frustration and rolls over to face me. “Damn it Tank. I’m asking okay. Please give it to me. I’m asking.”
The words are barely out before I plunge inside, stretching her legs back until they almost hit her shoulders. She gasps and wraps her legs around me, holding me against her as tightly as her pussy grips my cock.
It’s like dying, a little bit at a time, or the burn of a blade right before the final cut. I’m fucking her hard, trying to put her through the mattress but I’m also trying to merge with her. Trying to make sure she never leaves me.
“You’re mine, Emma. Mine.”
She must feel it too, how close I am to going crazy because she strokes the side of my face, her eyes holding mine even as she starts to cry out, her own orgasm ripping her apart.
“I’m yours. Yours,” she agrees. Then her eyes clamp shut as she shudders beneath me, her body clamping down on my dick like a tight wet fist.
“Jesus.” I try to slow down, determined to draw out her orgasm but the tight contractions of her body are impossible to ignore. The familiar burn of my own release threatens, the pressure and heat gathering low, tingling at the base of my spine. She reaches behind me and clamps her hands on my ass, pulling me against her harder, forcing me deeper.
“I’m yours,” she insists, “And you are mine.”
That breaks me. As I come, my orgasm shattering me into a thousand pieces, I bury myself into her again and again and again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EMMA
The driveway is empty the next day when we pull up to my house. Tank didn’t even want to come back here but I need to pack some stuff. I also need to check the mail for bills and information from the financial aid office at school. Even though my mail is being forwarded, I don’t want to chance missing something major.
I get out and Tank follows. His eyes sweep up and down the street, scanning for threats.
“He’s lucky he’s not here,” Tank mutters. He grabs the stack of letters and flyers stuffed into the mailbox and hands it to me. I flip through the stack quickly, pulling out anything that’s addressed to me, and then put them in my bag. I open the door with my key and then put Ivy’s mail on the hall table.
“Ivy? Hello?” After what happened last week, I’m not taking any chances that Jon might be here, even if his car isn’t out front.
When we pass by the kitchen, I shiver thinking of what happened. Where is Jon now? And more importantly, where is Ivy? I won’t rest easy until I know she’s safe. If he got rough with me, then I have no doubt he’d do the same thing to her. If he hasn’t been doing it already.
In my room, I point Tank toward my closet. He pulls out my battered brown suitcase and I start throwing in clothes. I skip the heavy winter stuff since it’ll be spring soon and grab all my favorite skirts, slacks and cardigans. The rest of my stuff can wait. I’ll have to get it when I have more time.
Tank watches silently as I pull out handfuls of lingerie to add to the pile and then rush into the hall bathroom to grab my toiletry bag.
“Let’s go. I need to get you out of here before one of them shows up because I won’t be responsible for my actions.” He hefts the suitcase and I follow him out to the car.
Sadness descends as we pull away from the house. I grew up here. My last memories of my parents are in this house. But maybe that’s why I need to leave. Staying here where the best and worst moments of my life occurred doesn’t seem to be helping me move on. I lean against the window and watch the streets go by in a blur of motion. Before long we arrive at Tank’s apartment.
“Home sweet home,” he says.
“Just for a little while.” There’s no way this can be a permanent thing. He thinks he wants me to stay right now but that’s only because he’s never lived with anyone before. Once the shine wears off, he’ll want his space and his privacy back.
He takes my suitcase in the house and deposits it in his room. “Do you want to go out for dinner?” His voice carries from the bedroom to the front where I plop down on the couch.
“That’s fine.” I pick up the remote on the cushion next to me and turn on the TV. It’s showing a sports station. I flip channels until I find a home decorating marathon.
The stack of mail falls out of the top of my bag, scattering across the floor. Most of the envelopes are bills but the last one I don’t recognize. I open the envelope. At first, I’m sure that what I’m seeing is a mistake. I didn’t actually think this many zeroes could fit on a check. But there’s no mistake and I can’t even blame it on sloppy handwriting. It’s a computer generated check from First National Bank and Trust for one million dollars. I find myself tracing the six zeroes over and over. Then the name on the account.
Maxwell Dean Marshall
I dig frantically in my bag for my phone. I’m not even sure exactly what I’m planning to do but I know that I have to give this back. Mr. Marshall must not have thought I was serious when I told him I wouldn’t help him. Or it’s some kind of mistake. Maybe he authorized the check before I came last week and didn’t stop it in time.
I search through my contacts to find the number for his hotel. A man answers. The voice is slightly familiar but I don’t have time to try to puzzle it out.
“Hi, is Mr. Marshall available?”
“No, he’s not. Can I take a message?”
“Tell him that Emma is coming over. I need to give him something.” I hang up before he can try to talk me out of it. If I have to I’ll just shove the envelope into his hands and walk away. He’s probably one of Mr. Marshall’s many assistants. I don’t care who takes the check as long as it’s out of my hands.
“Tank, I have to go out.”
He appears at my elbow, looking concerned. “What do you need? I’ll drive you.”
“It’s personal stuff. I’ll be back in less than an hour.” I lean up on tiptoe and press a kiss to his lips. He softens slightly.
“Call me if you need me.”
I grab my coat from the back of the chair and shove my arms into it. The cold air hits me as I rush out the door since I didn’t even bother to button my coat. My car emits a soft purr when I turn the key. I gave Tank a hard time about it but I’m truly grateful. Whatever his friend did to my car, it’s been running better than ever.
As I drive, my mind isn’t on anything but getting to the hotel. How can I take anything from his father when I know now why Tank didn’t want to see him? Although that’s not the only reason I can’t do this. It feels wrong to attach currency to any part of what I’ve shared with Tank.
How do you attach a price tag to falling in love with someone?
By the time I arrive at the hotel, I’m almost sick thinking about the envelope in my bag. I hand the valet my car key and run for the doors.
“Wait, Miss. Your ticket!”
“I’ll be right back.” I don’t stop, barreling through the elegant lobby toward the elevators. The businessman on board looks shocked when I stick my hand between the rapidly closing doors.
“Sorry,” I mutter before hitting the button for the penthouse. He glances at me from the corner of his eye and I use the time to slow my breathing. He gets off on the eighth floor and I ride the rest of the way up to the penthouse alone.
The doors open with a ding and I walk down the plushly carpeted hallway to the double doors. They open before I even get there. It’s Jon. I stop, mid-stride. Stupid stupid stupid. No wonder his voice sounded familiar. I’ve only spoken to Jon on the phone once or twice.
“Emma.”
I turn around to run back the other way. He’s on me before I even reach the elevators.
“Get in here.” He drags me back toward the hotel room. His hand clamps over my mouth so tightly that I can’t even bite him. Once we’re in the suite, he kicks the door closed behind us. The main living area is empty.
I scream against the back of his hand. He squeezes my jaw so hard my teeth grind together.
“Shut up, bitch. I know what’s going on now. I saw the check, Emma. You can drop the innocent act.”
I stop struggling momentarily. He knows about the money? I didn’t think Mr. Marshall would have told anyone about it. Isn’t it illegal to do stuff like this? Then I realize he’s a very rich man and probably used to giving people large sums of money all the time.
I struggle against him and try to elbow him. He snickers. “I just figured you were cozying up to the old bastard so he’d pay your rent for a while. Or give you some money for tuition. But a million dollars? You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
His arms tighten around me. I can feel his breath, hot on the side of my face. A ripple of disgust rolls through me.
His hand has finally loosened slightly so I wrench my head to the side. “I don’t want it! If you’re the one who sent it than you can take it back.”
“Let me guess, you want more? You probably figured a million isn’t enough for a rich old codger like Mr. Marshall. Well, I protect him from greedy bitches like you every day.”
In his mania, his grip has loosened enough that I can lift my leg a bit. I raise my foot and stomp down on his toe. He stumbles and I run to the other side of the room, so the couch is between us.
“Protect him? You’re stealing from him.” I look back and forth between where he’s standing and the door. My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely breathe.