Falling In

by Lydia Michaels

  The closer their meal drew to an end, the more reality seeped in. She was going to have sex with Lucian Patras. Tonight.

  The thought was too surreal for Scout to actually form any kind of anxiety over. Curiosity kept her moving forward. The minutes ticked by and she figured she’d better just go with it. She did need to shower though.

  When she came out of the bathroom, the master bedroom was empty. She smiled when she noticed a long black nightgown lying on the turned-down bed. Lucian must’ve run down to her room and brought the silk gown back.

  Scout untied the towel around her head, glad she decided not to get her hair wet again. Sleeping on wet pillows sucked. She’d done that too many times in her life after using the facilities at the shelter just before curfew. After quietly shutting the door, she removed her robe and picked up the gown. It whispered over her skin like a delicious secret.

  She hung the robe and waited. What now? Looking at the bed, she debated climbing in there and waiting for Lucian. The penthouse was set in dim lighting and bathed in silence.

  Creeping past the door to the master bedroom on bare feet, she saw Lucian sitting at his desk. He was again wearing black silk pants. The sight of him in those pants with reading glasses low on his nose as he made notes inside a book made her smirk. They matched.

  She cleared her throat and he looked up, definitely taking his attention away from whatever he was doing. He leaned back in his chair and she sauntered over to him. Taking her hand, he silently directed her to turn for him. His hands caught her hips and stilled her once she completed a full revolution.

  Hands so large they spanned her waist, his thumbs dragged over the soft black silk covering her belly, causing sleek ripples. She removed his glasses and peeked through them before gently placing them on the cluttered desk.

  They simply stared at each other for a moment, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He drew a deep breath through his nose and pulled her closer as his lips slanted over hers. She gasped into his mouth as he stood and lifted her with him.

  The black gown gathered around her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her to the master bedroom. He possessed such capable strength both physically and emotionally. The cool wall pressed into her back and she arched, pressing her front into his. His skin was so warm it practically burned her exposed flesh.

  While one hand glided up her back, his other palm cupped her bottom. His mouth twisted and worked over hers and she found herself drowning in everything Lucian. He smelled delicious. Her cheeks burned from where his five-o’clock shadow rasped against her softer skin.

  They twirled, and he was moving again. Scout’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck and broad shoulders, pulling her higher and tighter against his front. His tongue stole into her mouth and owned her. He took and she gave. In those minutes, the way he made her feel, he was like a drug. She wanted to give him everything. She would sell her soul if it meant the difference between his continuing and stopping. She wanted him in her, on her, running through her veins, heating her blood.

  The sensation of falling took over, and she was suddenly cocooned in softness. Cool satin sheets slid across her back. She slid every which way he pulled her. His hot mouth sucked at the tender flesh of her neck below her ear as he settled on top of her. Nerves along her spine came alive and sang as his breath washed over her sensitized skin.

  The straps of her gown were yanked over her shoulders, the slick material twisting at her belly. When the cool air caressed her breasts, her nipples puckered. Lucian’s wet mouth drew upon the tips masterfully. Her body lifted into him wanting more, more, more.

  “My god, I need to be inside of you,” he whispered over her skin.

  The bulk of his body filled the space between her legs. The warm muscles of his thighs pressed into hers and she realized he was no longer wearing pants. His fingers wrestled with the long nightgown wrapped around her knees and thighs, pushing it out of the way.

  Need doubled inside of her. His hips came down into the cradle of her sex, and she felt him. Her body adjusted to accommodate the breadth of his hips. He was hard and smooth, hot. It would be soon. Her body wept for him. His hands were everywhere. He owned her then, took and gave pleasure unendingly.

  Scout arched and moaned as he plumped her breasts and sucked hard. His hand worked lower over her body, a steady touch, caressing, kneading, never letting go. An ache formed in the pit of her belly. She could only describe it as need. A different kind of hunger than what she was used to.

  His long fingers coasted over her dewy folds, and then he was probing. The intrusion was unexpected and awkward, but she didn’t want him to stop. She waited for her body to adjust to the unfamiliar touch. His touch penetrated and sunk into her. She stifled a grunt of shock. It wasn’t what she expected, but he was moving again before she had time to process.

  His finger slipped in and out of her. Everything was slick and damp. She was being stretched and her body constricted over him. He was thicker now. She thought it was only his hand but worried she had somehow missed something. His touch became hurried. She couldn’t stop the small noises that escaped her throat.

  “I have to have you, Evelyn. I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer.”

  Cool air blanketed her and the absence of his weight struck her like a layer of flesh being ripped away. A drawer opened and slammed and he was back. The soft sound of foil tearing met her ears, and then he was nudging her knees wide, wider than before. Her hips stretched and he fit himself against her sex.

  The sensation of flesh on flesh was interrupted by glossy latex. He separated her folds, and her mind retracted as he breached her opening. It was definitely his fingers before, because this was much larger.

  “You’re so tight,” he whispered as he slowly rocked his hips.

  Her mind had become too alert. Her arousal waned and she wanted him to bring it back. He softly grunted as he made shallow dips, poking her tender insides. Burning. A different kind. Nothing like the inner heat he stirred inside of her. This was a fire that blazed from the outside in. Nothing pleasant about it.

  Friction built, detracting from the memory of the smooth glide they’d enjoyed only moments ago. Her temples grew damp with perspiration as he pressed in, burning her opening and stretching her painfully.

  Scout bit her lip and when he thrust hard she whimpered. Her body stiffened like a corpse as he breathed into her shoulder.

  “Jesus, Evelyn, just give me a minute . . .”

  Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes and her mouth opened, but her sob was silent, trapped in her throat. She pressed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she was somewhere else.

  Checkmate. Checkmate.

  Lucian began to rock again and the pain subsided slightly. She let out a hard breath and his mouth kissed the corner of her lips. The more he pumped his hips forward the easier it became. Soon he was sliding in and out of her with ease. Pain fading, she slowly unclenched.

  She realized she was holding his shoulders in a death grip and let her hands go lax. His hands found hers, but he didn’t hold them. Rather, he wrapped his long fingers around her wrists and pressed them at her sides into the thick, cushiony bed. A touch of fear and helplessness surged through her, blurred by the unfamiliar presence of another person inside of her. Nothing was as she expected.

  She forced her eyes open. His body arched over hers like a wave, building and receding. His eyes had gone completely dark and his thick lashes hung low. His muscles bunched as his body plowed into hers and his chest wore a glistening sheen of perspiration.

  His hands released hers and he reached down to where their bodies connected. He touched her there and she cried out at the long-awaited pleasure.

  “Yes, Evelyn, let me hear you.”

  His fingers nudged her flesh in fast concise movements. The effect was quick and intense, washing away a gre
at deal of her confusion and fear. Her body tightened around him and he grunted, his hips pumping faster.

  “Come for me,” he whispered, and there was a sudden release.

  Her sex stuttered and spasmed around the part of him buried deep inside of her. She cried out as a wave broke over her, bathing her folds and easing his way. He probed faster. His fists gripped her thighs, pulling her into him as if he was not coming at her fast enough. The more he pushed into her, the longer the sensation lasted.

  Slick and wet, together they fit, until finally he thrust hard and held himself buried deep inside of her. A guttural moan left his chest and his shoulders quivered. For the briefest second, she felt as though she was holding him and saw him as completely vulnerable. It was peculiar to see that flash of him so emotionally bared, unnatural and somehow secret. She blinked and breathed. That seemed the only function she had in the moment.

  Lucian’s shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath. They were hot and sticky and covered in sweat. The silk gown had become like a tourniquet around her stomach that she needed to remove. Slowly, her body reconnected with her mind. Lucian’s cock was softening, and little by little the pressure inside of her eased.

  Her muscles were sore, and the tender skin between her thighs felt abused and messy. She wanted to clean herself up. Briefly, her mind touched on the fact that she’d just given herself to this man because he bought her pretty things and held the promise of better things for her and Pearl. She refused to examine that thought while he was still inside of her.

  It was pleasant for a time, Lucian and her. When he kissed her, she liked it. Scout liked the way he touched her breasts and when he made her body tighten and release . . . it was insane. Sex, however, the actual act of intercourse . . . that she could do without.

  Her damp skin was cooling, and she shivered. Lucian sighed, and then he withdrew from her. Her insides felt plumbed. He kissed her lips quickly and then stood. The chill of his absence weighed over her skin, seeming to take on a life of its own.

  The light from the master bath flipped on. A toilet flushed and the rush of running water sounded. So clinical, lacking any sense of intimacy she may have expected. Gingerly, she rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. Her limbs ached and her muscles weren’t working right. Her arms awkwardly slid back through the straps of the gown, and she stood. Walking as if her pelvis had been stretched, she eventually made it to the hall. Scout inched her way to the powder room, ran cool water over a washcloth and cautiously cleaned her body.

  When she returned to the master bedroom, Lucian was standing in front of the bed with his back toward her. She wasn’t sure what people said after sex, so she quietly walked over to the bed and began climbing onto the mattress. She froze when she saw the expression on his face.

  His eyes blazed intensely and stared unblinking. His shoulders rippled with tension and his fist clenched until his knuckles were white. He was furious.

  “Lucian?”

  His gaze jerked to hers and he practically growled. “Are you hurt?”

  Scout took quick inventory of her body. She was sore, but not hurt. She just needed to sleep and she’d probably feel better in the morning. “No, I’m fine—”

  “Then what the hell is that?” His finger shot out like a blade and pointed to a dark skid on the light satin sheets.

  Oh my God!

  Her mouth opened almost as wide as her eyes. Mortification choked her as she looked down at the evidence of her virginity smeared across his expensive sheets.

  “I’ll—I’ll wash them.” She quickly began ripping the sheets from the bed. Tears blurred her eyes and she was suddenly being jerked by her wrists in front of him.

  “You were a fucking virgin?” The look of complete revulsion on his face when he said the word as if it were a curse crushed her.

  She quickly rallied her dignity and got right in his face. “I was.”

  He released her arms so fast she practically stumbled backward. Through gritted teeth he growled, “How old are you?”

  “What?”

  “How old are you?” he roared. “You told me you were twenty-seven. I know that’s bullshit. Your paperwork said you were twenty-two. Is that a lie too?”

  She stared at him, just stared.

  “Answer me!”

  She jumped then quietly answered, “I’m twenty-two years old.”

  He shut his eyes and gave a humorless laugh. “A twenty-two-year-old virgin?”

  “It’s true. So what? I’m an adult. You didn’t rape me. What’s the problem?” She was growing more self-protective by the minute.

  “The problem is I don’t believe you,” he seethed. He was no longer shouting, but she preferred him yelling at her to the icy calm he spoke to her with now. Those whispered words seemed underscored with the creak of heavy walls slamming up between them. The space flanked by them grew, though neither of them moved.

  “Well, that’s your problem then, because I’m telling you the truth.”

  “When’s your birthday?” he snapped. When she didn’t answer, he glared at her. “Well?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted pathetically. “I was born in the winter twenty-two years ago. I don’t know what month.” He suddenly ripped the top blanket off the bed and marched out of the room. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch. You can have the guest room.”

  Scout didn’t know how to cope with the unexpected pain accompanying this disappointment. He simply abandoned her there as though she was not worth the trouble. Her lip quivered and she blinked rapidly. She felt ashamed and used, but the worst feeling came from his admitted lack of trust.

  This was never going to work. She was leaving tomorrow.

  She didn’t cry. There was no point. Her hands worked at removing the soiled linens as her mind replayed his words like some sort of loop of torture. She washed the sheets in the tub, never once letting a single tear fall.

  Chapter 16

  Gone

  Scout left her makeup on the counter of the vanity, zipped her bag and crept out of the bedroom. Stopping at Lucian’s desk, the first place she had met him, she wished she could leave him a note but figured it was for the best that she couldn’t. Approaching the door, she turned and looked back at his sleeping face one last time. His black eyes were watching her.

  “Sneaking out?”

  Keep it simple. Keep it honest. “I have to go to work.”

  “I’ll arrange for lunch to be sent up after your shift,” he said, not bothering to sit up.

  Scout nodded. “Thank you, Lucian.” She turned and left.

  Work dragged. Her schedule was incredibly light and she suspected Lucian had done something to make it that way. By noon she was dusting the same furniture in the common areas that she dusted that morning. When her shift was over she went to the basement to get her bag and slipped out the back entrance of the hotel.

  Paranoia that she was being followed hit her the minute she stepped into the sunlight. Her legs quickly propelled her forward for a few blocks. Blood pumped through her veins, which helped to warm her body, but after she’d traveled about a mile her face was flushed from the cold and her fingers were chilled and starting to chap. She shifted her bag and pulled out her hoodie. After the sweatshirt was over her uniform she continued on her way.

  St. Christopher’s wouldn’t be opening its doors for at least five hours. She had a good idea of a few places Parker might be, but she didn’t want to waste any time. She hadn’t seen Pearl in days and her worry had become almost too much to bear.

  “Hey!”

  Her skin stiffened. Scout turned and saw Dugan coming after her. She pivoted and ran.

  Her legs pumped hard over the pavement. Ripping around a corner, she ducked into an alley. Her heart raced and she waited, too afraid to peek behind her. Heavy footsteps fell and a
flash of black leather ran by. Waiting a few seconds, looking to see Dugan running in the direction she had led him, Scout pulled up her hood and went the other way.

  Her cheeks were frozen when she got to the tracks. Slipping under the open garage door, she moved quickly to the hall where she’d find Pearl. The mill smelled of burning leaves, and there were many more residents now that winter had fully arrived. Scout passed a man tying off his arm as his companion pulled the end of a dirty needle over a battered spoon. She cringed and kept walking.

  As she turned the corner into Pearl’s hall, there was a soft flickering glow seeping from her door, and she was glad her mother had the sense to make herself a fire. She slowed her steps so as not to startle her. She turned the corner and found her hunched over a mirror sifting through a fresh batch of H with a razor.

  When she heard her she turned, her weathered, emaciated face vicious. Pearl shot her arm holding the razor out, as if to ward off a thief, and cradled her supply with her other arm. Scout stilled by the door and gave her a moment to recognize her.

  “Go way,” she mumbled.

  “Momma, it’s me, Scout.”

  Pearl narrowed her eyes and glared at her. “You’re too fat to be Scout. She just a lil’ thing.”

  “Pearl, it’s me.” Scout stepped forward slowly and lowered herself to her knees. “See?” She pulled her drawing of them out of her bag. Pearl stilled and stared at it.

  “Where you get tha’?” she slurred. It was obvious she was already high.

  “It’s us. I got it from the man who drew it. Do you remember?”

  Her mother’s brittle laugh was slow and then too enthusiastic. “Scout hated that hat.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I did.”

  Pearl’s dirty fingers went back to separating her stash. Her movements were painfully slow and unsteady. Dried blood crusted with the filth already clogging the little canyons of wrinkles on her brown fingers. Scout looked to the corner and saw the soaps she’d brought her a few days ago.