“We need to do something. I hate seeing her like this!” Sara’s voice cracks, I have to fight the compulsion to comfort her, to let her know I’m okay. Or at least, that I will be; I just need time to process everything that’s happened. I need to find a way to crawl out of my head.
“Maybe we need to get her out of the apartment for a bit. We have to be at BAR in an hour or so. Sara, why don’t you and Chloe get dolled up and let loose tonight.” Skye’s body goes rigid at Harley’s suggestion, but he remains silent.
“That might help,” she states skeptically, then adds, “I guess it’s worth a shot.”
It irks me that neither of them feels the need to ask my approval. I’m just about to open my eyes and tell them just that when Skye speaks.
“I’m worried it’s only going to get worse. Detective Sanders keeps calling, wanting to speak to Chloe about attending the trial and possibly going up on the stand. I keep putting it off as much as possible, but with it coming up, it’s inevitable.”
Why didn’t he tell me the detective has been trying to get in touch with me? I make a mental note to contact him later myself. I’m ready to get this shit behind me so I can try to move on with my life.
Skye must realize I’m awake because he calls out to me. “Chloe?” Everyone remains quiet. I don’t want them to know that I have been listening to their conversation so I stretch and growl, a horrible attempt to seem like I’ve been asleep the whole time.
When I open my eyes, they immediately land on Skye’s. I will never get tired of losing myself in them. There is always so much love lighting them up, making them seem almost translucent. I don’t know if it’s a love for life in general, or if that love is directed at me. I’m selfishly hoping for the latter, even if I’m trying to push it away. Someone tickles the bottom of my foot and I jolt up on the bed, pulling my feet under me.
Sara smiles deviously from the foot of the bed, Harley positioned behind her. “Do not touch my feet!” I scold her, which causes her to laugh harder. I fucking hate it when people touch my feet, I’d rather be hit in the face with a bat.
“Get over it, big foot. What do you say to a night of primping and partying?” She smiles at me. I notice the guys have a wary look on their faces, like they're scared I may have another meltdown. I mull over her question, and after a moment or two, I decide I need this. I need a night of drinks, dancing, and laughing.
I would be lying to myself if I said that going back to BAR doesn’t scare me to some degree, though. This will be the first time since the attack that I have stepped foot in there.
A few weeks after Tom was buried, Tanner Hough, Tom’s lawyer, contacted me to inform me that all of Tom’s assets were left in my possession. I was dumbfounded and in no shape to handle all of his affairs. I filed all the necessary paperwork to allow Sara to handle what I couldn’t, which was basically everything.
We sold all of his possessions including half of BAR. Brady purchased the other half shortly after I became full owner. I don’t want it but he couldn't get approved at the bank for the whole amount, and I figured I’d still need some income, so we split it, even though he makes all of the decisions regarding the business. The plan is for him to eventually buy me out, but it will still be a while until he’s able to do that, so until that time, I stay the silent partner. I kept a few of Tom's things that were very sentimental to him or myself, those are locked away in storage.
“Well? What do you think?” Skye asks.
“I think I should get a shower and get my boots on.” I smile shyly at him. His face lights up in shock. I have been so out of sorts lately, I think a night out is just what I need, what we need. I know he can tell I’ve been pulling away from him, it’s hard to explain. I want him with me, I need him by my side, always. But, at the same time, I need him at arm’s length. It’s not fair to him to put him through all of this, to make him suffer through my issues, but I don’t know what else to do.
His lips find their place against my temple. His touch causes a hundred hummingbirds to take flight in my stomach. Harley stands, reaches for Sara, and cradles her against his chest. A thought occurs to me, and with everyone being so focused on me, I feel the need to voice it.
“When do you go back to the doctor?” I ask Sara. She looks at the guys before focusing on me.
“Three days,” she states. Sara has been in a wheelchair since the accident. When she wrecked her car, the dash pressed into her knees and twisted her back at an awkward angle, dislocating a few disks and causing minor nerve damage, leaving her temporarily paralyzed from the waist down. I would feel a million times worse about being part of the reason she is immobile if she wasn’t such an attention whore. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she loves the way Harley dotes on her now that she has her new wheels, but what she doesn’t realize is he would give her that same attention with or without the chair.
“I wanna go,” I say.
Her eyes light up. “Really?” This surprises her, since I’ve become a hermit, only leaving the confines of my apartment to go to the cemetery and my necessary doctor appointments.
“Yes, really,” I reply.
Skye squeezes my shoulder in a silent display of support.
Enough of the mushy shit, I have to get moving before I talk myself into hiding from the world under the covers. I make a move to get off the bed, but Skye’s arm moves to my waist, holding me in place. Harley and Sara leave us and the second the door closes, I’m on my back.
He shifts his body so that he’s hovering over me. Every tight inch of him is pressing me into the mattress. His callused hands pull my arms above my head and he secures my wrists together. The heat radiating from his body feels like it’s going to burn me alive. His eyes bore into mine with such intensity, it makes me nervous, but I can’t look away. This position reminds me of the scene in my book earlier. That little reminder excites me. I press my legs together, trying to hide the fact that I’m soaked and needy. My nipples harden against my bra, causing them to rub against the material and creating an erotic fire of pleasurable friction.
“You sure about this? Going to BAR, I mean? You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing. I can stay here with you; we can grab a movie or something.” His minty breath fans my face. I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth, applying enough pressure to cause a small twinge of pain to distract me from the urge to devour his beautiful, full, pink lips. The desire to have this man deep within me is strong and growing with each passing minute.
Skye glances down and smiles devilishly when he notices my lustful glare and the pebbles under my shirt. He moves his face closer to mine. His mouth hovers so close that the moisture on his breath wets my lips. Skye begins to speak; he emphasizes each work with pressing his lips to mine. “Do.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Want.” Kiss. “To.” Kiss. “Stay.” Kiss. “In?” He deepens the last kiss, emphasizing his words while caressing my tongue with his. When he pulls back, I’m left a panting, wanton mess.
“I could find other things for us to do, if you want to stay in,” he says smugly. The idea is so tempting, an enticement I want to give in to so badly. But I don’t, I need this night out. I plan on losing myself in alcohol, dancing, and the large crowd of people I know will be there.
On a sigh, I say, “I have to get out of this house and out of my mind for a while.” I didn’t mean to voice the last part aloud, but I don’t regret saying it. Skye’s expression is one of understanding and relief.
“All right, but on one condition.” His eyes match the playful tone in his voice. Anticipation courses its way through my veins, igniting every nerve ending and causing my pulse to race.
I finally find my voice and ask, “What’s the condition?” The words come out lustful and breathy. My southern drawl is more pronounced reminding me of Scarlett O’Hara from Gone With The Wind.
“This.” He jumps from the bed, opens the door, and shouts down the hall, “Order the pizza, we’ll be out in a few.”
&nb
sp; I hear Sara shout, “Get ‘em stud!” Have I mentioned I fucking hate her? Skye laughs and turns back to me. The door shuts, he turns the lock on the handle and stalks across the space between us.
Each step is deliberate, like a man with one thing on his mind, and that’s to conquer and devour. With every step he takes, my heart slams harder and harder against my ribs. He reaches the side of the bed and lowers himself on his knees, kneeling in front of me. The only thing I can see from my position on the bed is the top of Skye’s head. I watch in fascination as he turns his head and plants tiny kisses on the inside of my knees.
With each kiss, he moves a little higher, stopping at the spot just below the apex of my thighs. I hear him inhale, causing my cheeks to burn. “Chloe, talk to me, baby. I wanna make sure you’re here with me every step of the way. If you’re not ready, then you need to tell me. I want you so badly. I feel like I’m going to explode from just kissing your kneecaps; I don’t know if I will last when I bury myself in you. So if you want me to stop, you need to tell me now.”
It’s in this moment that I decide there would be no stopping now, even if I wanted him to. I need this, not just for me but also for us. I have been so lost inside myself, so scared to feel that I forget on a daily basis how alive he makes me feel with the slightest touch. A touch that I’ve denied him of lately.
I have felt so disconnected from him, but I think it’s time to reconnect, even if it’s just for a little while. I want us to be close, like we were in the hospital. This is the chance to let him control me and see if what I fantasize about can be the cure-all I so desperately need. Question is, how do I get him to take control of me the way I crave? How do I say, “tie me up and make me forget” without scaring him off?
“I need you, Skye,” I say on a broken sob. This moment, right now, feels like a defining moment for us. Like it’s the beginning of something special. I’m not sure why I feel this way, but something tells me I should cherish this moment, to commit it to memory and store it away for the rest of my life. Without another word, his fingers find the clasp on my jeans and he unbuttons them quickly. After the zipper is lowered, he slips the rough denim and my panties down my legs at the same time, leaving me bare and exposed to the chill in the room and his hungry eyes.
He leans over me, hooks his arms under mine, and slides me up the bed. I dig my heels into the bed to help. When I lift my hips to push myself up the mattress, his hardness presses into me. The contact causes every muscle in me to clench in need.
“Skye, please don’t make me wait. I–I can’t. I need you inside of me.” I emphasize my words by roughly grinding my softness into his steel. He releases a feral growl from deep in his chest before he dives into my neck. His teeth scrape my skin, causing my toes to curl. There is no softness in this moment between us, just writhing bodies, grasping hands, and heavy breathing. It makes me think about the characters in my book and the raw need they have for each other; I want that. Right now, I need that so bad that if I don’t get it, I feel like my chest will cave in on my heart and bury it forever. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, which is a little longer than usual and I love it. I fist it tightly and pull so that he’s facing me.
When our eyes lock together in a heated stare, I say through gritted teeth, “I need you to be rough. I want hard, I want fast. I want you to pound yourself so deep and so hard into me that your cock feels like it’s going to come out of my ears.”
He says nothing, he doesn’t have to. I can read his expression as if it were my own. He’s concerned, he’s scared he pushed me too far too fast.
But, he’s wrong. I want this from him. I want him to dominate me. I need him to take over my mind by using my body and make me forget everything. To make me feel anything else besides the grief and rage that has become a permanent presence in my heart.
He moves himself into position, placing the engorged head of his penis at my soaking wet entrance, moving it back and forth. Before he can enter me, I thrust my hips up and slide down the bed a fraction, causing him to impale me in one quick movement.
Skye stills, checking for any sign that he may have hurt me from the sudden invasion. I lick my lips and begin to move my hips, hoping he takes the hint and starts grinding with me.
His movements are slow and careful, treating me as if I’m fragile. I growl out, “harder,” but he ignores me. After a few moments of the tender lovemaking, I huff in annoyance. I take him off guard when I push him over and straddle his waist. He starts to protest, but I quickly silence him when I pierce myself on his hard length.
My hips move as if they have a mind of their own. The sounds of my lustful cries and skin slapping together are the only noises to be heard. My orgasm builds rapidly, but I need more. “Pull my hair,” I say on a moan.
“Chloe, I really think—” he starts to say, but I cut him off.
“Just do it! I need you to do this for me. Skye, please!” I beg.
He runs his hands up my back; his fingernails scrape the nape of my neck as they intertwine in my hair. The stinging sensation on my scalp spurs me into action. My thighs squeeze his waist as I glide my hips back and forth over him, faster and faster until I think I am about to explode.
My body’s drenched in sweat, the aroma of fresh sex is thick in the air, and I feel a-fucking-live for the first time in months. Cupping a breast in each palm, I start to squeeze them tightly, massaging them to the point of pain. I work my hands forward until I’m pinching my hard nipples between my thumb and index finger. Skye lifts up, takes the hard nub from my right hand into his mouth. He grinds it between his teeth and the sensation is unremarkable.
I shriek when I’m pushed backward and flipped over onto my knees. Without warning, he slams himself into me from behind, pounding into me relentlessly. My body begins to hum with excitement, the orgasm that was building is now assaulting me with the full force of a hurricane.
“This what you want?” he growls into my neck.
“God, yes. YES!” I scream. His teeth clench on to the tender skin of my neck, the feeling causes me to explode around him. A few more thrusts into my quivering sex and Skye erupts deep inside me. We both lay breathless and spent next to each other a few moments before Skye speaks.
“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice is thick. His hot breath heats my neck with each pant.
“Yes, I’m great actually,” I reply. Before he can speak, there’s a knock on the door.
“Are you two love birds done trying to tear down the house? The pizza’s here and I’m tired of listening to y’all go at it like wild cats.” Fucking Sara.
Skye laughs and rolls off the bed. I watch quietly as he pulls his pants back on. “I’m going to go fix us a plate. You sure you’re good?”
I smile widely, hoping I can convince him to believe my lie. “I’m great.” I get up, walk to him, and give him a peck on the cheek.
He leaves and I wait until the door clicks shut; I run to the bathroom. I’m barely on my knees in front of the toilet before I spill my guts.
Once my stomach is empty, I get up, brush my teeth, and slip back into my clothes. The feeling of doom and desperation creeps back in. I’m disappointed at how quickly my brooding mood returns after such amazing, dominating sex. What the hell is it going to take to pull me out of this funk?
I can hear her heaving from the hallway, the tormented sounds of her spilling her guts makes me want to run to her, but I know I’m not wanted. Since Tom died, nothing has been the same. Chloe’s become this completely different person; she’s moody, depressed, and so ill-tempered that whenever she enters the room, even the air around her becomes angry. Everyone’s been walking on eggshells around her, worried that one of us will be the one to push her over the razor’s edge she’s been teetering on.
I’m at a loss for what to do. She has me at arm’s length one second, but in the next, she clings to me like a lifeline. Those moments when she needs me close are the ones I cherish the most, especially since they are
growing further and further apart.
My phone vibrates, pulling me from my thoughts. I pull my phone out and glance at the screen; Detective Sanders name lights up. I answer it, knowing I can’t ignore his calls much longer. “Hello?” I say in an irritated tone.
“Skye, this is—”
I interrupt him. “Detective, give me just a minute.” I walk quickly toward the front door. When I pass the kitchen, I can feel Sara and Harley’s questioning stares, so I raise my finger in the universal, “wait a second” gesture.
As soon as the door shuts, I say, “How can I help you?” I’ve spoken to him on several occasions, each and every conversation is the same as the one before. Todd’s trial is getting closer and they want Chloe to take the stand. Every time, I tell him the same thing, they have enough evidence without having her relive the accident.
He’s adamant about having her testify though, says it will cement his fate in Johnson State Prison.
“Skye, I really must speak with Chloe. Is she available, or can you give me another contact for her?”
I sigh heavily into the phone but remain silent.
“Look, I didn’t want to play this card, but if you don’t have her call me, or turn me away again when I come looking for her, I am going to file charges against you for interfering with an ongoing police investigation.”
I bristle at his comment, but the finality in his voice is enough to convince me he isn’t joking. The seriousness of his threat weighs heavily on my shoulders.
With a sigh of defeat, I say, “I can bring her to the station tomorrow afternoon. I’m not sure she will be willing to testify. Also, I need you to keep her psychological well-being in mind throughout this process. Chloe has been—” I pause for a moment, trying to come up with a better word for what I want to say but settle on, “—different.”
“I’m sure Ms. Thomas is having a hard time processing the past three months, but I assure you, her well-being is at the top of my department’s priorities. We will not push and will go at her pace.” His tone softens a bit and I feel a little better about the detective speaking with her.
Forever & More: The Friend Zone series Page 3