Secrets She Keeps

by Amarie Avant

  The moaning turns into a shallow cry as my cock is crushed beneath the heavenly, tight fit of her. For every inch I push into her ass, I give and I take, and I rub ever so softly at her back. A tiny whimper from my beautiful Reese, and I become even more attune with her body, reaching beneath her hip to rub softly against her clit.

  “Mhmmmm,” she moans, fingers clutching the sheets.

  My hand slaps harshly at the flesh of her hip. “Do not tense.”

  Her fingers expand, letting the rumpled material go.

  “Fuck me, Evan, baby, fuck me,” she gasps as I work up a rhythm.

  “Shhhh,” I again rub the lower portion of her back. This fit makes me drool, and I have to lick my fucking lips. I can stay in her ass forever. Speeding up my tempo, my cock slides in and out of her as I grab ahold of her ass cheek.

  “You want me to come in this beautiful, round ass, Reese?” I ask, smacking at it.

  “Come in my ass, Evan, babe, come in my ass.”

  “I should come in your fucking mouth, all that shit-talking you do.”

  “Come in my mouth,” she groans. “Come in my ass, come in my mouthhhhh, oh Jesus!”

  Her face is bowed down now as my cock has called her to heaven.

  Chapter 37

  Reese

  The clock reads the top of the hour, twelve p.m. that is. Damn, I slept the entire morning away. I close my eyes recalling last night, early morning. A spiritual awakening transformed my entire being last night as his dick slammed ever so softly into my ass. I had almost said those poisonous, taboo words. I had almost declared my love for him. I suppose all bets are off while rolling around in the sack.

  I stretch in total contentment, and yawn. Then I realize how I was such a bitch to Evan moments before he set me straight. What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not my monthly, I’m not menstruating, but…

  Feeling movement behind me, I turn around to see Evan is still in bed. I thought he was on schedule for the entire week. Which is why I had movers. My gaze becomes keen as I notice a big bottle of prescription pills on the table beside him. Then I look at him harder. Beneath his T-shirt there’s something thin strapped to him.

  Face a mask of worry, I reach out to touch him. Yet stop myself. Let him sleep…

  I step around one of his mother’s art pieces and head to the kitchen. I’ll make crepes and Evan can tell me what the hell happened to him on the job last night. As I begin to grab eggs out of the stainless steel refrigerator, I gulp deeply. My stomach is unsettled. I grip a carton of milk and then it teeters back onto the glass shelf and my hands go to my mouth. On the balls of my feet, I quietly stalk over the limestone flooring to the bathroom.

  I scurry to the porcelain toilet and fall to my knees. My arms clamp around the toilet. Its fresh-lemon scent stirs ferociously at my stomach. Head practically entering the bowl, I begin to upchuck bits of nothingness and liquid. Last night, I didn’t cook dinner. With Evan gone, what would be the use? So in an instant, I’m practically dry heaving against the toilet, upchucking clear water.

  Am I preg…?

  No, it’s not possible.

  I text Jamie ‘emergency,’ brush my teeth and have a beanie slapped on my bed-head hair, jeans and am pulling on a shirt while heading out the door. In the elevator, I grab the Vans from my satchel and place one on after the other. Why am I being so ridiculous? I had ample time to dress since Jamie couldn’t have gotten here in ten minutes. The calming elevator music soothes my soul, while I add a bit of gloss to my lips, just enough to separate me from any ol’ hobo off the street.

  The doors swoosh open, and a familiar voice is loudly traveling from the double doors.

  “My friend is having an emergency, hello, dude, don’t you understand?” Jamie’s shouting at the doorman, at the exit.

  The doorman has his hands up in defense, “Sir, I hear you, loud and clearly, —”

  Pace quickening, I speak in a louder than normal tone but try not to match my friend’s yelling, “Jamie, I’m here.” I turn to the doorman, “Sorry about that.”

  Before the doors close, Jamie is in my ear. “What the fuck is going on, Reese? You’re telling me about a fucking Charger, a stalker, and… and…”

  Standing in the middle of the walkway, downtown, I cut in, “I haven’t had my menstruation in a while.”

  “Bitch, does it look like I want to hear about your period. Bloody pussy is one reason why I cling to the cock!”

  “Shhh,” I snap, as a businessman in a charcoal gray suit gawks at us on his way by. “Jamie, will you please come with me to Dr. Saadat?”

  “Oh… YOU’RE PREGNANT?” Jamie’s dark face brightens with interest. “I’m gonna be an uncle! I’m gonna be a godfather. I need to settle down. You’re okay with your daughter having two godfathers, right?”

  “Shut up,” I snap at him in much the same manner that Evan did to me in the wee hours of this morning. I glance up, though at this angle, I can’t see the top of the skyscraper-like building. Something tells me that Evan should be at my side right now…

  I follow Jamie.

  I’ve re-dressed and am stalking back and forth in the tiny area. Jamie is seated on a visitor stool to my right, the examination table is to my left. There are pictures on the walls of heathy versus unhealthy. Dr Saadat ambles into the room, in a white coat, his glasses at the tip of his nose and my file against it. “Miss Dunham, I’d say congratulations are in order. Dr. Azikwe stated your growing babe has a strong heartbeat.”

  “Yes, and I'm grateful for that,” I say through clenched teeth. The African doctor had apologized since my primary doctor, Saadat, was booked all morning, and she continued to congratulate myself and Jamie on our blossoming seed. Until Jamie cut in and let her know that no way had he stuck his most prized possession in my ‘chasm of doom.’

  I had argued to high heavens to have a chat with Dr. Saadat for just two measly seconds. Dr. Azikwe obliged. Now, he stands before me, mind probably on the next beaver he plans on giving a damn Pap smear.

  “How did this happen?” I ask, eyes burning with a fresh batch of tears. Can't be nothing but paranoia but my nipples began to itch the instant I hear my baby's heartbeat. Something, boy or girl… Dear Lord, let it be a girl that is growing in my womb. I fucking never wanted to get pregnant in my life. Yet here we are.

  “Well, you're taking the lowest hormone for weight purposes…”

  “Hey!” I shout, offended by the facts.

  Dr Saadat speaks quickly, giving statistics on the birthing rate for those who take the pill regardless of how serious they are in our daily regimen.

  His eyes begin to shift back and forth.

  “Look at this motherfucker, Reese, he's a rat, he's a dirty rat,” Milo had said. His knuckles were bloody. At eight years old, I had clung to him, afraid to glance at the man's face for fear of vomiting. Originally, I was gleeful about an outing without mom, and then I learned my father had no reservations about taking lives.

  I glare at Dr. Saadat. “You're a fucking liar!”

  Jamie begins, “Reese, calm— “

  “No, I haven't missed a goddamn single day with my pills!” I advance toward the doctor and Jamie grabs me by the waist. But not before I can get a good grip on Saadat’s lab coat.

  “Okay… okay…” he shouts being tugged by me as I'm tugged by Jamie. My friend stops, eyebrows raised.

  “Speak!” My voice is low; I have no desire to be put out of this hospital on my own accord.

  “Okay, a man came to me. The stranger blocked my car one evening when I was preparing to back out and head home. He drove a Charger. He told me to... no, no. He held a gun against the glass door—g”

  “Tell me the friggen truth,” I command through gritted teeth.

  “I AM. Upon seeing a gun plastered against my window, I knew he was serious. When I rolled my window down, he handed me a phone. The man who spoke to me over the phone sounded like Marlon Brando! But I could tell they were not joking. The man in charg
e made a request. I give you a placebo for your next set of two prescriptions. When I hung up, the guy in the Charger said he'd kill me if I didn't follow my command. He spouted off my address, my children's addresses!”

  “I should kill you myself.” I step away from the doctor.

  Jamie grabs my shoulder and I shrug him off, heading out of the room.

  “Reese…” he shouts, calling after me. I move swiftly through the lobby, sidestepping a very pregnant woman on her way into the office. Once outside, I break out in full speed.

  I'm not a fucking idiot. There’ll be no running over Reese Dunham today! I channel the street-smarts Milo forced upon me.

  The champagne Charger that left Lure Spa had returned and was parked when Jamie and I got out of the spa. I had been refreshed and chucked it off as paranoia on my part. I assumed it was a worker, who’d left for break or lunch. However, prior to Luxe, my gut tells me I've seen him before. This has to be the guy who cut off Dr. Saadat and gave him the cell phone, Sal almost has this Marlon Brando swagger, my grandfather had to be on the other line.

  The car is at the edge of the parking lot. As Jamie calls out to me, I rush toward it. And give the side door a swift kick! And then again. And again. The iridescent paint shimmers as it starts to cave. Damn this feels good…

  Chapter 38

  Evan

  Searing pain awakens me with a jolt. I reach over instinctively to claim what is mine. But Reese's warm body is no longer beside me.

  “My fucking doc is gonna murder me,” I grumble, rolling over to my back. I place my palms on the mattress at my sides and then pull myself into a seated position.

  The digital clock reads 4:07 p.m. High fucking time for another pill or two. There's a bottle of water beside my bed warning that Reese is aware that the job got crazy last night. I glance around, half expecting to hear footsteps coming from the bathroom but a sweep of my large studio tells me she's gone.

  Fuck, I start to doubt how well I actually read her body last night. She was the fucking ocean. She was fucking everything for me. My cock was squeezed tight in her ass. She’d started off doubtful, but then again, Reese hadn’t masturbated until I coerced her to. Was she not ready? We've tried anal before. Maybe I was being too much of a dick in the sack?

  “Grrrrr!” I reach over to grab the water and the bottle, and opt for two pills. The pain doesn't even have a chance to mellow out, as I pull my dead-weight over the side of the bed. Another grunt accompanies me standing up.

  I walk over to my slacks. Standing over the pile of clothes, I determine how the fuck I will reach down to pick it up. My cell phone is in my pocket, and intuition is blaring. Call Reese. Call Reese now!

  At a quarter to eight, my abs are no longer in pain. This numb state of euphoria won't last. I start up the stairs to Reese's apartment. The moving crew had taken everything though Reese owns the place for another four days, which is the end of the month. There'd be no reason for her to be here. Like Reese said, she could easily have left me and stayed with her friends or her mom. Did I piss her off enough last night for her to have come here?

  It strikes me as odd that Reese would want to return to her apartment, a residence she no longer saw as home. We’d only stayed the night a handful of times in over half a year since Riker and his crew targeted her.

  Yet Reese finally responded to my texts offering to meet her here of all places. I pull my keys out to find the one to this door.

  As I insert the key into the knob, the door creaks open. It wasn't locked, nor was it even closed.

  Grabbing the Glock from my waistband behind me, I undo the safety and enter. As I'm sweeping the corners, a white-gloved hand grabs out for my gun. I twist my arm away, and then pivot, turning inside the entryway.

  Officer McGregor… Milo Benincassa’s old partner.

  His whitish-blonde hair is matted to his forehead, freckles and dirt smudges are on his face. A once decorated officer is now a transient, who just so happens to be slinging a karambit curved knife. His pale-green eyes widen; he’s surprised to see me too. “Where is that little bitch?” He sneers.

  “Put down the fucking knife, McGregor,” I shout out my name and rank at the LAPD.

  Any sane person would determine that attacking a police officer might not be in their best interest. McGregor advances toward me. Since he has a deadly weapon, I fire a warning shot. It pierces into McGregor’s left arm as he dodges and lunges for me.

  He's not some dumb motherfucker off the street that doesn't know how to handle himself without heat. We've had the same training. He fists the hook knife in his hand and swipes toward me.

  I aim a fatal shot to his chest. His gun falls, due to the force of the bullet. But McGregor is wearing a vest. I am not. He reaches for my gun with his right arm and issues a standard defense jab with his left. I block his disarm technique, though my aim is off. The next shot whizzes past his ear.

  His face winces, he reaches to grab his ear. The next second, McGregor forces both his hands out to press against my chest. My gun falls. We’re now both disarmed.

  I step to the right, bring my hand to his chin and force him down to the ground on his back. My legs press over his, and I punch him in the face. Police Academy 101, you never want to be on the floor with your enemy above you. McGregor attempts to posture up with one hand, once he starts to brace himself, I swipe his leg, forcing him back down.

  He takes a swift jab to my ribcage. Noticing the deathly glare in my face, McGregor continues to pound his fists against my side. I grab around his neck and begin to squeeze. Then a heat as hot as lava makes me glance down. This motherfucker had grabbed his knife and sliced the left side of my rib cage.

  McGregor moves from under me, knocking me to the ground. I grip at a puddle of blood flowing from my side.

  Chapter 39

  Reese

  He said his name was Matteo Giugliano, son of Milo Giugliano. Legitimate and not hidden away in a dark corner or another world, rather.

  When I told Jamie I had intentions of leaving with my half-brother, my best friend slapped me all the while asking had I lost my mind. He'd reminded me that I was pregnant, as if having an innocent seed growing inside of me is forgettable.

  Now the back of my head is pressed back against creamy, soft leather. There are the Giugliano family crest and initials behind me too. The Learjet has just lifted off, and I'm clutching my purse in my hand, knuckles gray from gripping and twisting the strap so hard and thinking so hard.

  “It's gonna be a long ride, Reese.” Matteo smiles as he says my name. “I heard they call you Reese's Pieces?”

  I meet his friendly gaze, retorting, “And you can't.”

  He smiles harder. “You're just like dad when he… when…” his voice fades and he stands.

  “When he what?”

  “When Dad left for the States.” He cocks a thumb over his shoulder. “I need a drink. You want a drink?”

  “No.” I also would prefer if you stopped referring to my dad as yours too! But I'm too chickenshit to say the words. Though Matteo has been rather cordial since I kicked a concaved dent into his car, I have a feeling he has a bad side. He’s got this softness about him. A baby face really and he's a pretty brown tone. Hair so long it loops and curls at the edges, behind his ears and rests against this shoulder. There’s a bit of salting to the sides of his hair, he has to be at least ten years my senior. But my caution comes from the tattoos on Matteo’s knuckles. The words must be in Italian, as I am unable to distinguish the meaning. Though he’s in a custom suit, some type of large gun has been tatted on the side of his neck, and all I see is the end of a dark barrel until he turns his neck and there’s so much ink, I can tell this is just the beginning of a large piece of art.

  Matteo had apologized for watching me and intending to keep me safe while I kicked at his car. And he’s playing the ‘good’ brother. I don’t give a damn about his altruistic purposes, or that he’s my big brother. Never had a necessity for siblings––p
eriod.

  Matteo sits back next to me, there’s a glass of rocks and hypnotizing amber liquid. But I will not be drinking liquor any time soon. My quest is to get Giovanni Salvatore Giugliano off my fucking back, and then I’ll return home. I’ll shout how much I am in love with Evan Zacarro until my lungs get raw. The things I must do are all for him…

  I lick my lips, and decide to gather some intel from Matteo. I ask, “So why is Sal harassing me?”

  His thick eyebrows furrow. Italian accent thick, he surmised, “You say harassing like…”

  “Like fucking harassing. Bothering. Threatening... Ruining my life.”

  “Oh no, our nonno wouldn't do that to you, Reese. You're family. You're gonna love Napl — ”

  “Does it look like I'm traveling with you for a friggen vacay?”

  Matteo gives a forced laugh. It's all in the eyes. His have diagnosed me as crazier than my damn mother. “Please, Reese. Salvatore has something to tell you. I am glad you've chosen to see him. Sal's been waiting.”

  “Waiting? Are you kidding me, Sneaky Snake Sal pops up every month. Now you're telling me he's waiting for me to come pay him a visit? Has he been given his last rites since he last bulldozed my life?”

  “No, our nonno is – ”

  “Then all I'm gonna ask him is why… why… am I pregnant.”

  Matteo's cheeks redden, he's embarrassed about such talk. I begin to turn toward the window, and glance at a gray flurry of clouds, and then he says “Oh…”

  “Oh, what?” I search his face again.

  His eyes flit. Our father’s words of wisdom about a lying rat ring blaringly loud through my ears.

  “Mie scuse, Reese, but you'll have to hold your questions for Salvatore.”

  Chapter 40

  Evan

  The trailer park in Dominguez Hills, is where many middle-class senior citizens call home. The lawns are neatly kept, and most everybody sticks to their own goddamn business. It’s almost ten p.m., I’m sitting in the living room on an examination table. The shredded skin on my left ribs is one nice, long U-shaped gash. There’re paper towels with blood all over the floor.