by Hamel, B. B.
“What if I want everyone to know that you’re fucking one of the evil Hammetts?” I ask her softly. “What if I want everyone to know how bad you are?”
“Go ahead,” she calls my bluff.
I laugh gently and kiss her, biting her lower lip. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“You think I’m ashamed?”
“I think you have no clue what you’re talking about. How would your mother look at you if she knew you were sucking my cock?”
Her eyes light up. “Leave her out of this.”
“Exactly. You know better than to get involved with a man like me, and yet here you are.” I press my fingers deep, sliding in and out. “You can’t help yourself.”
“You’re just an asshole.”
“You’re just a bad girl, begging to get off.”
I drop back down between her legs and lick her clit again, this time leaving my fingers inside her.
I redouble my efforts, sucking her sweet juices, licking that perfect pussy, lapping her up. I love the way she tastes, the way she moans. It drives me absolutely wild and my cock’s so goddamn hard I could scream.
But I hold back. This isn’t about me right now. This is about Eden, sweet, perfect Eden.
This is about teaching her what I am.
She gasps, gripping my hair tight. I fuck her pussy fast with my fingers, faster and faster, licking her clit the whole time. She’s groaning quietly, almost whimpering, her whole body tense.
I know she’s so close. She can’t help herself. Thinking about how bad this is, how wrong, drives her wild. Her poor mother is right downstairs, and she could come up at any moment…
“Fuck,” she gasps. “Like that.”
I keep going, faster, concentrating. She groans, rolls her hips.
I can taste it when she comes. It’s all over my fingers and tongue and I love every second of it. When I’m done, I lean forward and kiss her before making her take my fingers into her mouth.
“Clean yourself off me,” I whisper. “That’s right. Be a good girl.”
She stares at me, beet red and breathing deep. There’s a little anger there, and I love it. She does as I ask, cleaning her pussy off my fingers.
Fucking hell, she’s so sexy. I want to take her right here, right now, make her come again.
But I know I can’t.
I stand and step back, turning away. I get myself under control with some difficulty.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say softly.
“You’re just… leaving?” I hear her getting dressed again.
I open her door, step out, and close it behind me. If I stay in that room another second, I’ll fuck her tight ass, fuck her tight pussy, come in every hole, leave her begging for more. But that would only get us caught, and I’m not cruel.
I may like pain, but I’m not cruel.
I head down the steps. Her mother is watching an episode of Jeopardy on Netflix.
“Lovely home,” I say to her. “Have a nice day. Sorry again about what happened.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “Oh, thank you, dear. You have a nice day too.”
I nod and leave their house.
It’s a nice house, a cute house. I could see how growing up in a place like that might not be so bad.
At least, it would be better than where I grew up. Better than a dead mother, who disappeared two days after Jessamine was born. It would be better than my father, his eyes drunk with madness, raving late into the night. Only Fox could talk him down back then. Only Fox could try and control him.
But control only lasts so long.
I shake my head, getting into my car. I don’t know why I’m thinking about this. Maybe because I can see that same look in Jessamine’s eyes, more and more frequently these days. I remember Fox trying to control my father, trying and failing over and over again.
I remember Fox cleaning up his messes. Making the bodies disappear.
I can’t do the same thing. I won’t be Fox, stuck in purgatory, forever guilty about what happened in the past, unable to move on.
I can see something in Eden I never thought I’d see. It’s a glimmer of a future I never expected.
Hell, I never expected any future. Seeing one with Eden means something is changing inside of me.
11
Eden
I wish I could even start to understand Case Hammett, but as soon as I think I know what’s going on, he makes things so much more complicated.
I could barely look my mom in the eyes all the rest of the day. We went to the park and she even did pretty good walking around on her own, although she got tired. I cooked her dinner and went to bed early, since I had to be up at the Hammetts’ the next morning.
Now, parking in my usual spot and heading in through the side gate, I wonder if I ever should’ve let Case come to my house.
That whole thing about pain, about not being able to handle it if people knew about the two of us… I just don’t know.
He’s probably right. I probably don’t know what I’d be getting myself into if the whole town knew I was actually sleeping with him. I mean, Dean Fish hates him so much that he’s willing to stab the guy, even if he feels bad about it. I can only imagine how he’ll come after me if he thinks I’m more involved with Case.
Which is insane, of course. I shouldn’t have to worry about someone like Dean stabbing me just because they hold some stupid grudge against Case.
But I can’t change the world, unfortunately, and I don’t even know what this thing is between the two of us. Right now, it just feels like Case is fucking me, using me, getting me off, but… there has to be something more. I mean, he keeps coming back.
He doesn’t have to keep coming back.
And it’s not like he’s always doing it just for his own gain. Most of the time, he doesn’t even get off, at least so far. I can’t even say that he’s using me for sex, since he’s mostly just making me come.
It’s confusing, almost messed up. But it feels good. I have to admit, as soon as I start up the steps toward Hammett’s End’s front door, my heart starts beating faster.
I’m excited to see him. I can’t wait to see him, actually. It hasn’t even been a day since he left my house abruptly yesterday, and I’m acting like it’s been a year or something.
I knock and wait. Fox comes, frowning slightly. “Good morning,” he says, droll as usual. “Come inside.”
I follow him in, shutting the door behind us. He leads me into the kitchen and points at the cleaning stuff, set out. Already.
“That’s for you today,” he says.
I hesitate. “Is Case around?”
Fox raises an eyebrow. “Master Case is busy,” he says. “His whereabouts aren’t important, are they?”
“Ah, no—”
“So, you can still clean the house without him here?”
I glare at Fox. I didn’t know he was an asshole on top of being weird. “Yes, I can.”
“Good. Come with me.”
He leads me upstairs and down a side hallway I don’t normally bother with. This wing of the house doesn’t get much use at all. Fox takes me down through a pair of double doors and into a large room, nearly entirely empty, but absolutely covered in dust.
“Please, clean this,” he says.
I stare at the space. It looks like a ballroom, with a dance floor and fancy decorations on the walls. “What is this?” I ask him.
“The old mistress used to give dance lessons here.”
I frown. “Mrs. Hammett gave dance lessons?”
“To the younger girls in town, yes. She gave them out for free. She was a great dancer, once.” Fox sounds far-off, almost wistful.
“You knew her?” I ask, suddenly able to date Fox’s age a little bit better.
He looks at me and sighs. “Yes, I knew her. I’ve been at Hammett’s End for many years.”
“Oh,” I say. “What, uh, what was she like?”
He’s silent for a moment, a
nd I expect him to tell me to mind my own business, but to my surprise he looks away and speaks.
“Alexa Hammett was a joy to be around,” he says softly. “You can see some of it in Master Case’s demeanor, when he’s happy, at least. Alexa’s smile could light up a room, and it frequently did.” He pauses for a moment, almost like he’s gathering himself, and it seems to be that he cared for this woman more than as just an employer. “Her loss broke something in Master Case that never quite healed. Has he spoken of her?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“He wouldn’t. He was young when she was… taken. It was just after Jessamine was born. Things were never the same in this house.”
I bite my lip. “How did she…. How did she die?”
Fox doesn’t look at me. “Alexa was such a joy. Even her laugh could make you feel better. But to see her dance… that was the greatest joy of all. Sometimes, I’d sit here, in this doorway, and observe her. She’d dance for hours, before and after the girls would come. She danced in Paris, in London… back before she met Rene and settled here.”
I haven’t heard anyone speak of Case’s father, let alone use his name, I almost don’t realize who he means.
But he’s talking about Rene Hammett, the most notorious of all the Hammett family, dead for years now.
Fox sighs. “I’m sorry. I can go on sometimes. Please, clean this room. I will check on you later.”
“Okay,” I say softly.
He nods, flashes me a smile, and leaves.
I’m left standing there, trying to piece all that together.
I had no clue that Case’s mother was a dancer. Most people only talk about her husband. She’s more or less forgotten, her memory buried under the worst rumors.
The worst rumors go like this: after Jessamine was born, Rene Hammett no longer had any use for this young wife. And so, one night, he strangled her to death and threw her body out the top window.
That can’t be true, of course. I mean, if it were true, we’d know it.
Except Rene Hammett himself died suddenly himself under equally strange circumstances.
There are other rumors, rumors of little girls coming to Hammett’s End and never leaving again. The story of Alexa Hammett teaching little girls to dance in this room sends chills down my spine. I don’t know how those two things are connected, but it seems obvious that they are. That must be the genesis of the rumor.
I sigh, slip on a dust mask, pull on gloves, and get to work.
I can’t stand around thinking about these rumors all day. I wish Case were here, but he’s not. I can ask him about all this later, and maybe he’ll actually explain something for once.
But I doubt it. The Hammett family seems to love being as vague and as creepy as possible, including their weird butler, who looks great for his age, by the way.
I start with the mirrors along the far wall. What I took for a ballroom at first is now clearly a dance studio. The mirrors were so dirty, they no longer reflected much of anything, and I hadn’t realized they were even there. But as I wash them, they start to reflect again, and I can somehow see the groups of little girls that came through this space all those years ago.
When I’m finished, I start on the floor itself. I’m down on my hands and knees when I hear the door open.
I look up, expecting Case. Instead, Jessamine smiles in at me.
“I see Fox has you working on his favorite room,” the girl says.
I stand up, feeling like an ugly duckling compared to her. Jessamine is beautiful, curvy everywhere, with beautiful thick hair and startling, gorgeous eyes. Her lips are full and look like they’re constantly pouting. If I were a man, or a little more into girls, I think I’d fall in love with her.
Except there’s one odd thing about her. It’s the way she looks at me, like I’m not quite here.
Like I’m not quite a person.
“He told me a little about your mother,” I say to her.
Jessamine hesitates for a second, but only a second. I can tell I surprised her. “Fox is always going on about mother,” Jessamine says, sighing. “I never knew the woman. Died right after I was born.”
“Apparently she was a great dancer.”
“Apparently.” Jessamine shrugs and moves into the room. She twirls a little bit, going up on her toes. Clearly, she has a little bit of training herself. “But who really cares about that dead bitch?”
The callous way she says that takes me aback for a moment. I can’t believe she’s talking about her long-dead mother in that tone.
“Oh, I mean, isn’t it interesting? I mean, uh, Fox clearly thinks highly of her.”
“Fox is a stupid old man clinging on to the past. Mother is dead, Father is dead, and there’s just me and Case in the end.”
I wrap my arms around myself. Suddenly, I feel cold. “Well, sorry. I should get back to work.”
She drifts over toward me, practically floating. “Why?” she asks.
“I have to clean this whole room,” I say stupidly.
“You think that’ll take all day?” She makes a face. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”
Anger flares in me, but I shove it down. I get the feeling that she’s trying to goad me, but I’m not sure why.
“I guess not,” I say.
“Shame. But clearly, that isn’t why my brother hired you.” She arches an eyebrow at me. She’s close to me now, close enough to touch if I wanted.
“Why would he hire me, then?”
“Obviously so that he can fuck you then throw you away,” she says, laughing lightly. “Why else?”
That hits home. I don’t know why, but it’s the perfect thing to say, digging at all my own insecurities.
“That’s not true,” I say, but I can hear the lie in my voice.
She can too. She’s like a shark with blood in the water now. She sneers, on her toes again, and twirls around me. “Come now, Eden. Did you really think my brother cared about you? I mean, you’re just some poor girl from town. Sure, you went to college, but… so what?” She laughs lightly. “There are a million town girls he can fuck. He’s probably fucked half of them already.”
I glare at her. “It’s not like that. I just work for him.”
“Right. Okay. That’s fine, you can keep lying to yourself. You shouldn’t, though.”
“Yeah, why not?”
I take the bait. I don’t know why.
“Because Case is a fucking psycho, just like me.” She stops and stares at me as she says it.
I laugh a little, completely uncomfortable. “Psycho? What are you talking about?”
“You don’t see it yet, but you will.” She sighs, almost like she’s tired. “Case is very good at hiding it. Better than me, at least. But trust me, Case and I are very much alike.”
I stare at the girl, not sure what she means. Jessamine is obviously a little weird, but a psycho?
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, so just quit messing with me, okay?”
“Leave you alone? Why would I do that? There’s a little fly in my spiderweb, and I want to play with it.” She steps closer to me suddenly, quick and smooth.
I take an involuntary step back. There’s a hunger in her eyes now and she’s grinning at me.
“I just want to finish cleaning,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you get it, Eden? I’m trying to warn you. Maybe even save your life.” She comes close. I keep backing away from her, eyes wide, but she doesn’t stop.
I run into the glass wall with a loud bump. It doesn’t shatter, but I tense, waiting for the glass to break.
Jessamine stops right in front of me. “We’re killers, Eden,” she says, practically a whisper. “We’re all killers. You know the rumors, don’t you? They’re all true, little Eden. Every one of them.”
I stare at her, eyes wide. “You’re just messing with me.”
“Case is a killer. You can see it, can’t you? Case is a murdered, a killer, a p
sychopath. If I were you, I’d run away.” She steps closer, pitching her voice lower. “Run away, little Eden.”
I stare at her, not able to move. I feel like I’m locked in place. Jessamine’s eyes are wide, staring into mine, almost laughing, but frightfully serious.
“Run!” she barks at me.
I can’t help myself.
I do what she asks.
I run past her, out to the door. My heart’s beating wildly out of control.
Killers, murderers, psychos.
Missing children, dead wives, dead fathers.
Case and Jessamine, living here with creepy Fox.
Everything is terrifying as I run. The whole house is reaching out to suffocate me. I hurry and I swear I can hear the ghosts of young girls, urging me on, telling me to keep running, not to look back.
I burst downstairs. I run through the front door.
I get in my car and I drive as fast as I can, and the terror doesn’t leave me until I’m back home, back in my bed, trying to understand what the hell just happened.
12
Case
I hate that I’m not there to greet Eden this morning, but there’s nothing else I can do.
Some stupid little emergency pulled me away to the mill bright and early. I spent most of the day dealing with human resources correcting paperwork errors that weren’t my problem but can only be resolved by the owner. Frustrating, petty shit, and I’m tempted to fire someone over it.
But of course, I’m not going to. I’m not a monster.
I head home after lunch, frustrated and tired, but looking forward to seeing Eden at least. I can’t stop thinking about her, trying to decide what the hell I want from her, why I can’t stop touching her.
It’s obvious, I know. I just can’t admit it to myself, not yet at least.
I park in the back and head up to the house. I’m practically whistling to myself as I skip inside.
Jessamine is in the kitchen, making her lunch. She’s smiling to herself, which isn’t like her. I drop my briefcase on the table.
“What’s up with you?” I ask my sister.
Jessa looks back at me. “Nothing,” she says, smiling.