by J. M. Dabney
“Why did you leave?”
“He thought he’d killed me that night. He dumped my body on the side of the road. I went to the Sheriff when I came to, and I was bleeding, his hand prints were still around my throat. Thorpe was going to take me back, on the way there, I opened the passenger side door, and I jumped. I ran.”
“Then you committed yourself to some fucking loony bin.”
“I didn’t…don’t have any skills, I barely remembered how to read. I stole clothes from a line behind some house and just walked, then hitchhiked. And I didn’t know what I was going to do. Garnet kept me locked up. When we went to town, he was always with me. I had no friends other than you. You were everything. I fucked up, but…but I thought since you were a boy, his son, you’d be safe.”
“I wasn’t safe.”
“Did he die painfully, Jack?”
“I beat him death, caved his head in.”
“Good boy.”
Dem stepped back at the vehemence in her voice. The coldness that came over her features that was so much like Jackson’s, and that’s when she touched Jackson. She lifted onto her toes and brushed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Jackson didn’t move, and he didn’t even know if the man was breathing.
“What about your grandfather?”
“Drank himself to death a year after I got out of prison.”
“He got off easy. I tried to burn his house down with him inside it. I failed every time I tried to do away with them.”
“Well, isn’t that just creepy,” he said and took another step back.
He became the focus of Jackson and Mary. She tilted her head to the side and stared at him.
“Who is this,” she asked her tone cold.
“This is Dem, my—”
“I’m his boyfriend.”
Even through his discomfort, Jackson’s glare was just too damn sexy. He had to be crazy.
“He’s pretty, but I always thought—”
“I’d have a girlfriend?”
“No, I thought your boyfriend would be…not so like a model.”
“He is pretty and high maintenance.”
“I’m not high maintenance, says the man with a three-pound attack dog who wears clothes.”
“She gets cold, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever your excuse.”
“You’re coming home,” Jackson announced as he turned back to her. “We’ll pack up your stuff.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What will I do? I don’t have money, a place to live—”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Jackson, you really need office help, I refuse to do that shit again. And there’s room for another trailer out back of the garage if we clean out that one corner.”
“I’ve lived here for—”
“Yeah, well, you don’t need to be here. And everyone thinks I’m crazy anyway, one more crazy won’t hurt nothing.”
“I don’t—”
“Shut up, you’re coming.”
“I’ll go talk to the doctor while you two continue with your sweet reunion, now I have two of you. What the fuck was I thinking?”
“I told you to stay away, this ain’t my fault.”
He carefully turned and headed back to the ramp, then inside to find the doctor who disappeared. It was best if he handled the breakout because Jackson had no charm whatsoever. What had he been thinking when he thought moving to a small town in Georgia would be less excitement? It damn sure hadn’t turned out that way.
SEVENTEEN
She’ll Gut Him With a Smile on her Face
“Joker,” Pelter bellowed from the direction of his office.
He heard his name over the sound of his torch, and he jumped up and turned off the welding torch tossing it aside. He ran to his office to find Killer growling from her spot on his—his mother’s desk, and Mary clenching a switchblade she liked to carry around.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“I came by to see you and—”
“I’ll gut his oversized ass with a smile on my face.”
“Mom, fuck, stand down. Damn, maybe I should get you a job with Linus.”
It had taken them two weeks to spring Mary from Waterford. They were still leery of her tendency toward violence, and he hadn’t worried too much, but for a tiny woman, she was homicidal as fuck.
“This is the Sheriff, Pelter, my mom Mary, Mary, Camden Pelter.”
“He touches me again I take fingers.”
“Charming, I see where you got your personality from,” Pelter said with an odd smile.
Harper had come by and set Mary up with tons of new dresses, most concealed her scars, and Mary seemed to appreciate it. Killer had taken over trying to keep Mary calm. His dog trotted across the desk and yipped to be picked up. Luckily, Mary put the knife away and cuddled Killer.
He finally relaxed when she unarmed herself, and he turned to Pelter.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Joker.”
“I’m going to have my lunch, my son-in-law said he was making me something special. Killer goes with me,” she muttered and skirted the edge of the room.
Pelter tracked Mary’s movements until the woman was gone.
“I heard you found your mother, but she’s not what I pictured.”
“She’s just settling in.”
Mary wasn’t settling in great, but she’d been at Waterford for thirty years. Used to a significant amount of structure. They’d get there, and she was getting along great with Dem. Which worried him a bit because he and the man hadn’t talked much the last few weeks. Dem was keeping his distance. He didn’t know what to do about it.
Asking Peaches would be a mistake. He definitely wouldn’t go to Harper for advice. Best friend or not, they didn’t talk about sex. He didn’t talk about sex with anybody, but this really didn’t have anything to do with sex, or at least he hoped. They’d slept in the same bed a few times although Dem was always gone by the time he woke up.
“How do you woo someone?”
Pelter shook his head and stared at him with a horrified expression.
“Why would you ask me that? Do I look I’m doing anything in the romance department?”
“If you let the twins pounce you, you’d have—”
“That is a non-issue. I’m not doing anything with Eric and Ellison.”
“You know you’re the only one who uses their real names.”
“We’re not talking about them. Since I don’t think I’m getting out of this conversation, what the hell did you do to Dem?”
“I didn’t do anything. It just hasn’t been right since I disappeared the last time.”
“Are you an idiot, man? You two are supposed to be in a relationship. You run every time things get to be too much. First, it was out to your shack. Second time, it was a solo road trip. He’s probably wondering if you even want him.”
“Of course I want him, who else would put up with my shit?”
“Is that the only reason you want him? Because he puts up with you?”
“No.”
Pelter crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his desk.
“Miscommunication is for teenagers or twenty-somethings who don’t know what they want out of life. You’re a grown ass man, act like it.”
“What if he doesn’t want to deal with me?”
“Then ask him, and if so, move on and let him find someone else.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. Someone else touching Dem. He wanted Dem. It just wasn’t—how could he subject Dem to him even for a short time?
“Didn’t take you for being a jealous man.”
“I’m not.”
“Let me ask you this, out of thirty-eight years, have you ever met someone you cared for like you do Dem?”
“Only Harper, but that’s different.”
“Is he coming back to your place tonight?”<
br />
“I don’t know, his overnight bag was gone when I got up.”
“Do this, make something for dinner, call him and tell him you want to see him. When you have him there, tell him everything you’re feeling, no matter how it sounds. Be honest. If you’re honest, then everything should work out.”
He nodded.
“Now, do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Keep your mother out of my jail. I don’t have enough cells to have two reserved for both of you.”
“She’s fine. Mary’s just getting used to being free.”
“I’m just saying.”
He watched Pelter push away from the desk and waved as Pelter left.
He stood there with his hands on his hips, then pulled his phone from his pocket. He typed out a quick message to ask Dem to come back to the trailer after work. With that taken care of, he needed to head to the grocery store to find something for dinner. He needed to make Dem feel comfortable and important. That wasn’t something he thought he could do. What did he know about making someone feel special?
The door of the trailer opened a little after five as he stood at the stove flipping steaks. He wasn’t great in the kitchen, but he could do steaks.
He turned to track Dem’s movements and realized the man hadn’t brought in his bag. He tried to not let it get to him. He’d had all afternoon to go over his actions since they’d met. It was clear he hadn’t done anything right with Dem. He took a deep breath.
“Hey, you’re cooking.”
“I don’t know how good it will be.”
He took the cast iron pan off the stove and put it into the pre-heated oven.
“What’s going on, Jackson?”
“Sit…please.”
Dem took a seat on the couch.
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
“I fucked up.”
“Jackson, maybe this between us wasn’t meant to be, I know I kind of came on a bit strong.”
“No, shit, I’m fucking this up. I’m possessive of my things. My home. The shop. Killer. I’ve never had things other than those that were all mine. I’ve seen myself like Garnet for years. I wouldn’t subject someone to me. To the possibility that I’m just like him.”
“You’re not like him. Yeah, you’re a bit of an asshole, sometimes cold, but you’re not abusive.”
“Then what the fuck am I doing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong. You just don’t want to be with me, and that’s fine.”
“Bullshit,” he spat out and knelt in front of Dem.
“Then why are you pulling away from me?”
“I don’t want to hurt you like I did the night we—”
He dropped his head forward and then Dem’s fingers combed through his hair.
“If you’d hurt me, do you think I would’ve stuck around? Before you answer, no, I wouldn’t. You gave me just want I wanted. Everyone I’ve been with—”
He grumbled, and Dem laughed.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous. Jackson, look at me.”
He took another deep breath, lifted his head and obeyed Dem. Dem was smiling and gently touched him. He couldn’t interpret what the emotion he saw in Dem’s gaze was. He’d never been one to be able to figure out what people were thinking or feeling. The clues people put out were a mystery to him.
“I can’t say what’s going to happen in a day, a year, even decades from now, but I know that I want this to work. I love your surly attitude. I even love your possessive nature because I understand it. You weren’t ever allowed anything of your own, and what you do have, you take care of. When you need space, I’ll give it to you, but you can’t just run off when it gets to be too much. If you don’t want me because I’m not physically perfect...”
He snorted. “You’re sexy as fuck.”
“Do you think I’m weaker because of my crutches?”
“Of course not. I barely pay attention to them.”
“Another one of the reasons I like being with you. You don’t try to help, and when you do, it has nothing to do with you seeing me as inferior.”
“I’m the inferior one.”
Dem leaned in and their mouths touched, the kiss was hard and possessive. He grabbed Dem’s hips and tugged the man to the edge of the couch. He rubbed his cock against Dem’s. Dem stiffened and moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Dem’s, it amazed him when he didn’t flinch and his skin didn’t crawl with the man touching him. He’d spent so many years on guard that he was quickly becoming addicted to Dem.
“I can’t get over you let me touch you.”
“I love touching you.”
“You’re staying the night.”
“Question or order?”
“Order, we’re having dinner and then going to bed, and you won’t be gone when I wake up in the morning.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve been having nightmares, and I know you’re a little on edge after even if you don’t remember them.”
“No more, you stay.”
“Okay, I don’t work tomorrow. I’ll need to call Gideon and Harper to let them know I won’t be home.”
“Do that.” He kissed Dem, then stood. “I’ll finish dinner.”
He felt a bit lighter but knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. He had a lot to make up for, and he was going to work his ass off. This was what he’d always secretly wanted; what he envied his friends for having. He quickly finished preparing dinner while Dem made his phone call and went to take a shower. One step at a time, one minute at a time, he had time.
EIGHTEEN
Jackson Knew What He Liked
Two weeks of what came close to relationship bliss, except for Jackson’s stubbornness but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware of it. They had gone on dates, rides, and spent time with Mary. She was settling in but was a little too quick to pull her knife. He loved the woman, though. Her life had been hell, to the point she’d locked herself away to stay safe.
There was one thing that annoyed him though. The man wouldn’t go passed some make out sessions. He went to bed most nights with sexual frustration clawing at him.
“Your bed,” he ordered Killer who was on the pillow next to him.
She stared at him, gave him her signature glare, but jumped from the bed. Killer still hated to share, but she was going to have to get over it. Jackson was his too.
He turned to the side and eased the sheet off Jackson. He shifted down the bed and moved to straddle Jackson’s calves. The man’s body to him was perfect. It didn’t matter how many scars graced Jackson’s skin. He kissed the ones he could reach, paid special attention to the ones on Jackson’s hips, thighs and hidden by Jackson’s pubes.
He inhaled Jackson’s scent. Musky, spicy with hints of soap. He licked up the length of Jackson’s cock, kissed the scars, and Jackson’s hips lifted from the mattress. He grinned before he engulfed Jackson’s dick and swallowed him completely. He groaned at the feel and taste of him. He bobbed his head as Jackson roughly gripped his hair. He played with Jackson’s foreskin, sucked on it, nipped at it, and ran his tongue beneath it, gathering Jackson’s flavor.
Opening his eyes, he glanced up to see the quick rise and fall of Jackson’s chest, passed that to the man’s heavy-lidded eyes, and Jackson’s teeth were sunk into his lower lip. As he sucked Jackson’s cock, he relished each moan, whimper and curse. The sound of his name broke as Jackson’s upper body curled up and Jackson shifted his legs open.
The tug on his hair almost dislodged Jackson’s dick, but he increased his suction and Jackson’s stomach sucked in tight. He wasn’t a match for Jackson’s strength. As Jackson drew him near, Jackson sat up. The wet length of Jackson’s cock notched with his between their stomachs.
Jackson kissed him rough, teeth and tongue, and Jackson’s fingertips dug painfully into his ass. His thighs gripped Jackson’s hips. Their movements were feverish and desperate. They couldn’t seem to get clo
se enough.
He rolled his head back as Jackson’s fingers massaged his hole. A pleasurable pinch preceded several tips pushing inside. He twined his arms around Jackson’s neck and rode his fingers, pushing his hips back as Jackson’ removed his touch.
“No, come on, Jackson, don’t tease.”
Jackson pushed him back, and he glared at Jackson. The man was smirking at him.
Bastard.
“My needy boy. Why should I let you have this,” Jackson asked as he stroked his hard, leaking cock.
He wanted that dick back in his mouth or better yet his ass. He jerked off so many times reliving the way Jackson had taken him last time. The soreness of his ass from being taken raw and rough. His high-pitched grunts still played in his head that accompanied each jab of Jackson’s perfect cock into his ass.
It was the roughness and the out of control nature of Jackson’s possession that he craved the most. He wasn’t treated like he was less than because his body wasn’t considered normal.
“You’re cruel.”
He reached for Jackson.
“No.”
Jackson twisted to the side and pulled out the drawer, then he handed him the lube.
“Turn around, I want to watch you get your ass ready for me.”
His face flushed and his hands tightened around the small bottle. Jackson helped him turn around to straddle his thighs backward. He slicked his fingers and brought his hand to his hole, then he thrust roughly inside with one finger.
Jackson palmed his cheeks and pulled them apart.
“You should see how fucking sexy that is. Show me how you want me to fuck you.”
He leaned forward and placed his weight on his left hand, and he quickly worked up to four fingers. The slick, wet sounds joined Jackson’s grunts behind him. He turned his head to find Jackson sweaty and flushed, Jackson jacked his cock in a brutal rhythm. He nearly came when Jackson placed his hand on his crease and thrust a thick thumb inside to join his fingers.
He tensed as he was grabbed and thrown to his back on the bed. Jackson’s features were tense and sharp, his breathing was rough as if he couldn’t catch his breath.