I didn’t bother with any lights when I walked into my house. Instead, I kicked my boots off at the door and settled into my favorite chair across the room. My body craves sleep, but my mind won’t shut down long enough to let it happen. Perhaps that’s why it’s conjured the image of her now, sneaking back in.
I watch her dark form cross the room and stop in front of me. She sighs, and suddenly I can’t take the illusion anymore, not when I all I can think about is the woman I held in my arms hours ago. I reach out and flip on the lamp beside me, waiting for the illusion to fade, but instead, she almost jumps across the room.
“Are you crazy?” She clutches her chest and her wide eyes stare at me in disbelief. I blink, focusing on her lit-up form. “Did you already forget what I went through last night?”
Shit, I silently curse to myself. She isn’t an illusion made up by my exhausted mind. She is real and she wasn’t sneaking in. She was cautiously entering a dark house.
“I’m sorry.” I stand up and close the distance between us. It’s still a little hard for me to believe she isn’t an illusion. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly not.” She takes a step back and puts her hands on her hips. “What are you doing, sitting here in the dark anyways?”
“Thinking,” I answer.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You, me, and what happened last night. My day after you left.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I run my hand through my hair, squeezing the back of my neck. “I had a shift, and afterward I needed to figure some things out.”
“Did you go home?”
“No.”
“Are you okay?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“You and me, and what we decide will happen next.” I watch as the calmness she’s trying to latch onto misses its target. Her hands start to shake and uncertainty settles into her eyes. “Can we talk?”
“We don’t need to talk, Missy. I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?”
“You’re going to tell me it was a mistake.” Her shoulders slump forward and she crosses her arms, like she’s trying to protect herself from me.
“Is that what you think it was? A mistake?”
“No.” I shake my head. Unable to stop myself, I reach for her again, needing to feel her in my arms more than anything. She doesn’t fight me, but she doesn’t melt into me, either. “It wasn’t a mistake, Queenie,” I murmur against her hair before kissing her gently. My heart contracts and clenches in my chest. “I wanted it to happen. I’m glad it happened.”
She pulls back and looks at me, her green eyes soft and sure. “I am, too. Glad. That it happened. But I’m scared.”
“Because of our past?” She nods, and it’s all I can do to not drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked away like I did and broken your heart. I was a fucking fool. If I could go back, I’d do things differently.”
“You would?” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper. I pull her in close, squeezing her against me.
“What happened between us last night, it wasn’t a mistake. The only mistake between us was the day I walked away.”
“Don’t—”
“Queenie.” I reach up to cup her face, trapping her eyes to mine. I need her to see me, to see the regret and the guilt I’ve been carrying for years. “You have to know what you mean to me, what you’ve always meant to me.”
“Kingston.” Her eyes plead with me, and a single tear rolls down her cheek. My thumb gently brushes it away. I lower my head, bringing us nose to nose. Her eyes widen, and I feel her body tremble from the nearness. Expecting her to push me away, I gently tighten my hold on her, but she doesn’t move. She leans into me, mewing, as I softly brush my lips against hers.
Gently, I add more pressure to the kiss, afraid she will begin to fight me at any moment. She presses into me, deepening the kiss, moaning into my mouth. Her response causes a burst of tingles to spread through my body, igniting my hunger for her. My dick twitches, remembering what it feels like to slide into her wet folds.
I slip my tongue past her lips, and she melts completely into me. I wrap my arms around her, and my hands find their way underneath her cotton shirt. The tips of my fingers brush along her silky skin.
“I can’t,” she gasps, pulling away. Her green eyes are vibrant with need and confusion.
“Queenie—”
“No,” she says sharply and takes a few steps back. I close my mouth and listen. “I’m not some toy you can play with and throw away when you don’t want me anymore, Kingston.”
“Never thought you were,” I tell her. It’s true. I never thought she was a toy to play with, despite my past choices. “You mean more to me than you know. This isn’t about sex for me.”
“How am I supposed to trust that you’re not going to break my heart again?” Her eyes meet mine, and I feel a shift in the air, like a magnet pulling us together. Her eyes are sad, and I feel them piercing me right into my soul.
“I can’t guarantee I won’t, and it would be foolish of me to make that kind of promise,” I explain honestly before taking a deep breath. “I never stopped loving you, and there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I don’t regret what I did to you.”
“Kingston,” she whispers my name and steps into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I want this with you. Show me this is real.”
When she looks up at me and I’m transported to the first moment I laid eyes on her, looking into the depths of her green eyes and hearing the words straight from her mouth, I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect moment.
“Everything about this, about us, is real,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers.
“It feels like it to me,” she whispers back before closing the distance between our lips.
It’s a soft, gentle kiss, but it’s filled with everything we’ve said and left unsaid. Our lips graze one another unhurriedly, as if we taste one another for the first time.
Missy reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck, and she opens her mouth to me, deepening the kiss. She moans as my tongue sweeps into her mouth, demanding and hungry. Her hands flatten on my chest and she pushes back a bit, breaking our kiss but not the connection.
“I just have one request. Can we keep what’s going on between us quiet, for just a little bit?”
I chuckle, because I know from firsthand experience how quiet she really is in the heat of the moment. “Queenie, if your definition of quiet is anything like last night, then I’m afraid it’s not possible. I like hearing you scream my name, and I plan on making you do it often.”
“Kingston,” she gasps, and her face flushes with embarrassment. “I wasn’t referring to quiet in the bedroom. Although now that you’ve said it, I’m going to make you work extra hard for it next time.”
“You think you can hold out on me?”
“I know I can.” She laughs softly, but her face transforms into something more serious. “What I meant was, I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell anyone about us yet.”
“I can deal with that, for now, but I don’t share, Queenie.”
“Neither do I” She pulls my head down to hers, brushing her lips against mine, sealing our spoken commitment to one another. “I should go back to Annabelle’s.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I have to work in the morning and someone didn’t let me get a lot of sleep last night.” She smiles at me and threads her fingers into my hair. For someone who suggested she leave, her body tells me differently.
“I don’t remember you complaining. I remember you begging me for more.” I smile down at her and watch the way her pupils dilate as she remembers the moment I’m referring to.
“You’re full of yourself, do you know that?” She purses her lips, trying to act taken aback, but I know better. Her increased breath tells me exactly how much her thinking abo
ut last night affects her. I think about slipping my hands in between her legs to find out how much she is affected, and I would bet my last dollar she’s soaked.
“Don’t worry, you can be full of me, too.” I tighten my hold on her, pressing my erection into her soft belly. Her breath hitches, and she gives me a nervous laugh. “I can tell by the way you’re breathing, the way you’ve pressed your breasts into my chest as my cock pulses against you, you don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t?” she asks breathlessly; her eyes are closed and her tongue darts out to suck in her bottom lip. My hands move down to cup her ass, and she lifts both legs, wrapping them around me. Fuck, I love being with her like this, wrapped around me without a care in the world.
“No, you don’t.” I brush my lips against her cheek. “You want to stay because you want to scream my name. Over and over and over again.”
She turns her head, catching my lips with hers, and she emits the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard as I sweep my tongue into her mouth. She tightens her legs around me, grinding her hot center against me, and I fight to keep myself from exploding on the spot. The intensity pours out of her, making me feel heady and desperate to be inside of her.
“Fuck,” I groan as she thrusts her hips again. I move to the couch and sit down. Her legs unwrap from my waist and she straddles me.
“I need you, Kingston.” She opens her eyes and looks down at me. Reaching between us, she unbuttons my jeans and lifts off me briefly to remove her scrub bottoms and panties. I reach for her top, and she lifts her arms, allowing me to pull the garment over her head. I groan at the sight of her black lace bra and her pink dusky nipples hard and straining against the material.
She reaches behind to unclasp her bra, but I stop her, pulling her lace-clad breast to my mouth and capturing the tight pebble between my teeth. She cries out in shock and her body shudders. She grasps the back of my head and presses harder against my mouth. “Harder.”
I comply, nipping her harder with my teeth, and I’m rewarded with a breathless whisper of my name on her lips.
“Kingston,” she murmurs and pulls away, slipping her hand between us. She releases my cock from my pants. Her breath hitches and her eyes widen as she sees me in the light for the first time. “How the fuck?”
“I was made for you, Queenie, that’s how.” I catch her face in between my hands, and the reservations I saw in her eyes disappears with my words. There isn’t a reason for her to worry about my size, not after the way I filled her just hours ago. I reach between us and place myself at her entrance. Her wetness coats my fingers, and I lift them to my mouth, tasting her. “Fuck, you taste like heaven. Ride me, beautiful.”
She needs no further encouragement as she slowly slides down the length of me, moaning as I fill and stretch her. I’ve been thinking about this moment since she left for work earlier. “Oh, God, yes.”
“Fucking perfect,” I whisper, catching her bottom lip in between my teeth. She begins to lift up, but I catch her hips, holding her in place.
“I need to move,” she pleads, rocking her hips against me, but I won’t let her move. Her muscles clench harder, latching on to me like a vice. I gasp loudly, nearly lose my mind. She chuckles. “Let me move.”
I loosen my grip this time. She rewards me by lifting her body quickly and slamming back down onto me. The force of her movement hits me in the gut like an explosion. Her green eyes peek up at me from a hooded gaze, and she smiles coyly, working my cock with her pussy. I slip my hand to her pussy, finding her clit with my thumb. She moans loudly and picks up speed.
One. Two. Three. She explodes. The intensity of her climax is all it takes for me to follow on its heels. There’s nothing quiet about it. From either one of us.
Chapter Fifteen
Obsession
Anonymous
Green eyes.
Green eyes.
The room is painted with green eyes.
Her eyes.
Her eyes.
Everywhere I look,
her eyes.
Sees me.
Sees me.
She never truly sees me.
If she did, she would know
She would know,
my eyes,
my eyes,
see her.
They watch her glow.
They see her fly.
They feast as she comes undone,
the wrong name on her pretty pink lips.
The name,
his name,
her lips,
they call.
Her breath,
his breath,
cease, deceased, dead, mort, fin,
fin,
fin,
finis.
For her eyes,
green eyes,
I fall.
Down.
Down.
The walls are painted.
Green eyes,
her eyes,
never see me at all.
Chapter Sixteen
Blowouts and Blowups
Missy
Three Weeks Later
I’ve witnessed three tragedies in my life. The first was the death of my parents. The second was the shit the team went through overseas. They each came back, but they were different men. And finally, the third tragedy was the kidnapping of my future sister-in-law, Alice. Her psychopath ex-boyfriend made it his mission to hunt her down after she escaped him not once, but twice. He tortured Alice for six years, forcing her to be a sex slave. He beat her into submission and even took away her voice. She was a broken woman when she came to us, and when she finally began to heal, he took her again. When she went missing, we all nearly lost our minds with worry, but no one was more affected than Hudson. I’d never seen my brother that distraught over a woman. Thankfully, Alice found the strength in herself to persevere and overcome every obstacle she faced, including Erik.
I know heartache and I’ve been subjected to its various forms and styles. Heartache and tragedy aren’t one and the same, but they coexist together on many occasions, and seeing my brother fly off the handle because the woman he loves was missing from the very place he thought she’d be safest, they went hand in hand.
I’ve never been the damsel-in-distress type. My mother didn’t raise me to be such a woman. I was taught to stand on my own two feet, and because of that I’ve always been strong, independent, and determined, even before she passed away. She taught me to love with my whole heart but to never expect the people around me to love me as heavily and whole, because while it may not be their intention, people will hurt you. One way or another, they always do.
I’ve loved deeply. I’ve loved passionately. I’ve loved Kingston Cole since the day I laid eyes on him. The last three weeks have been quite an adventure, not to mention we’ve been fucking like rabbits every chance we get. To say it’s been great is an understatement, but now he wants to start telling people about us and I’m not sure I’m ready for that, which is why I’ve been avoiding him for the last three days.
I know the longer this thing goes on between us, the greater the risk of someone finding out grows. Maybe something like that happening would make things easier between us, but with the recent events, I can’t shake the feeling something even bigger is on the horizon. Something bad.
Suddenly, a loud pop, along with a long release of air, interrupts my thoughts. My car begins to shimmy and shake down the paved highway. I groan because I know the sound well. I blew a tire.
Checking my mirrors, I pull my 1965 Ford Mustang over, cursing softly as the rain pelts down outside, making visibility nearly impossible. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I’ve driven this road too many times to count, I wouldn’t be doing it at all.
Shit, shit, shit, I curse silently while resting my forehead against the soft faux fur covering the antique steering wheel, and I take a deep breath. I spent the last sixteen hours on my feet, and the last thing I want to do is stand in the rain changing a tire. Reaching for my purse on
the seat next to me, I pull out my phone and quickly scroll through my contacts list, searching for someone I can call for help.
Hudson is still in Chicago with Alice. Dizzy is in D.C. for a briefing on his new assignment. Zero took off for the weekend, something about a quiet fishing trip. Bear doesn’t like cell phones, so he never answers his. Charlie is away on some business trip for Kingston.
“Shit,” I curse loudly this time. There’s only one name on my list to call, and it’s the last name I want to call right now.
Kingston.
This isn’t going to go over well at all. I’m not ready to tell him why I haven’t returned any of his calls or text, or why I’ve pretended not to be home when he’s come around. It’s to think, because when he’s around my clothes keep falling off. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s becoming difficult to protect myself in the throes of the most beautiful orgasms I’ve ever experienced.
I highlight his name on my contact list, but my thumb hesitates to press the call button. I look up and watch the rain falling outside around me. It looks like it started coming down harder, and the sound of it hitting the roof of my car is deafening. I force myself to connect the call and take a deep breath, counting how many times it rings before he picks it up.
One…
Two…
“I take it your phone isn’t broken or missing after all?” His gruff voice comes across the line, teasing me and sending tingles through my body.
“Hi,” I squeak. My throat suddenly feels dry and I struggle to swallow. Hearing his voice makes me feel alive for the first time in days. The shock it causes to my body leaves me confused and stuttered.
“How have you been?”
“Fine,” I release my breath slowly. I feel like I need to give him a reason why I haven’t responded to him, but he doesn’t seem pissed by the lack of communication on my part. “I’ve been working. How are you?”
Lost Without You (The Lost Series Book 2) Page 9