by S. M. Shade
Her brow furrows. “But you send reports to the cops?”
“Yes, anonymously. They need the help, so they don’t try too hard to figure out who we are. And we’ve partnered with another group called Striking Back. They run a domestic violence shelter for women and children. The leader, Mason, has ties to a lot of criminal justice agencies, including the FBI. If we get in over our heads, or need help, he finds a judge or agents willing to overlook our crimes for the greater good. It happens more often than you think. Those who fight crime for a living don’t want to see these guys get away. The system often fails and puts predators back on the street.”
She’s quiet for a few moments before peeking up at me. “Do you hurt people?”
The question I dreaded most. “To protect a kid who can’t protect himself, yes, we have. And we may need to again. This is my life, Mel, and it’s not something I’m willing to give up. We do too much good. Most of the time, I’m just on the computer, luring people and recording responses to send to law enforcement, but if a situation arises where that’s not enough, I can’t promise we won’t take care of the guy on our own terms.”
Her voice is small as she asks, “Kill him?”
“We have. We made an agreement not to take things to that level anymore, but not because of any regrets. They were predators, repeat offenders who were raping children or involved in sex trafficking of children. Putting them on a list doesn’t solve the problem.”
Her silence drags on, and I feel like I’m watching it all fall apart in front of me. All the hope for the family I want to have with her. All the nights snuggled together watching television, the days playing with our kids, all hang in the balance.
“Mel,” I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I’m not violent. I’d never do anything to hurt you or an innocent person. I’m not a killer. I’ve never personally taken a life, but I’ve participated when I knew it was best. I couldn’t just watch a man go back to raping a six-year-old girl because her mother won’t kick him out, or watch a twelve-year-old be auctioned off online because they can’t gather enough evidence to convict the seller.”
Her eyes latch onto mine. “I’m not afraid of you. I’ve known monsters, and you aren’t one of them. There was a time I would’ve done anything to have someone like you and your friends swoop in to save the day. But.”
I want to question her about her monsters, but I have to let it pass for now. That but hangs in the air for too long.
“I have to protect my son. I have to know that I’m not putting him in any danger. These people you hunt, have they ever found you?”
“No, we know what we’re doing. Our names can’t be traced back to us. Not even the cops and judges who help us know who we really are or where we live. I know it sounds scary, but our everyday lives are normal. Landon, Dare, Justus, and Tucker are married, and Dare has a son. We’d never chance getting our families hurt.”
Relief seeps into me when she curls against my side. “How much do their wives know?”
“Everything. We’re one big family.” I grin down at her. “Their wives, Zoe, Ayda, Sadie, and Leah will love you and our son. They’re amazing.”
Her fingers absently play with my shirt sleeve. “Do you think I could talk to them? I’d just like to know what it’s like from their point of view, you know. What I’d have to do differently.”
“Absolutely. I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure Zoe and Leah would come. Maybe Sadie too. Ayda is pretty busy with her son.”
Her usual smart, confident, demeanor falters, and she chews on her lip. “Do you think they’ll like me?”
I press my lips to her temple. “They’ll love you, just like I do.”
Her lips part, and her eyes widen as she stares up at me. “You love me?”
“Yes. I’ve never said those words before, Mel. I didn’t know it, but I must’ve been saving them for you. I love you.”
Her leg swings over me, and she straddles my lap. “I love you too.” She looks me in the eye. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Just that there will be times when I can’t tell you everything when it comes to my work. For everyone’s safety.”
She nods, mulling it over.
“And that I eat pussy like a damned champion.”
#
Mel has dealt with the whole confined to the house thing really well, but knowing she has to miss her art show at the gallery tomorrow has put a damper on her spirits. I hate to see her this way. After attempting conversation a few times and only getting shrugs and one word answers, I pick up her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling your doctor. I have a few questions.”
She clambers over me on the couch, reaching for her phone as I effortlessly keep it out of her reach while scrolling through her contacts. “Jeremy, no! I told you what he told me.”
With one arm, I easily shift her off me. “Don’t get all worked up. The baby, you know?”
“Then don’t be a dick!”
I’m pretty sure the receptionist who answers hears her comment, but she agrees to put me on with the nurse anyway. Melissa sits back, her arms crossed, glaring at me. I forgot how adorable she is when she’s mad. While I’m on hold, she stalks to the bathroom.
The nurse listens as I explain the situation and ask a few questions. “So, as long as she’s seated and not walking around, two hours would be acceptable?”
“Yes, her doctor will approve that.”
I just have one more question, and I peek back to make sure Mel can’t hear me. “I know she can’t have sex, but does that include all sex?”
The nurse chuckles and explains it means penetration. As long as she’s not active, orgasms are okay. “Thank you very much.”
My next call is to a home health care service who agrees to deliver a wheelchair in the morning. My girl is going to her art show. But first, I’m going to relieve some of her stress and watch her come for me.
Mel returns to the spot on the couch I know she’s so sick of, and ignores me, staring at the TV. She continues blocking me out like a stubborn brat when I cuddle up next to her.
Angry or not, I can feel her relax when I kiss her neck. “You are so fucking sexy when you’re pissed.”
If looks could kill, I’d be splattered on the wall behind us. “You have a wonderful skill for saying the exact wrong thing,” she says.
Brushing her hair from her neck so I can get to it better, I drag my lips up to her ear. “You can go to your art show. Your doctor agrees. I’ve arranged everything. Is that a better thing to say?”
Now she’s listening.
“What? But he said…all that walking around.”
“No walking around. I rented a wheelchair. You’ll sit, and I’ll push. Then we’ll go out for dinner afterward if you’re up to it. You won’t have to move around any more than you would at home.”
Her eyes tear up. It’s the first time I’ve seen her get emotional. “I can actually get out of this house?”
“Yes.” A smile spreads across her face as I grin down at her. “Am I still a dick?”
She throws her arms around me. “At the moment, no, but ask me again later.”
My hands slide under her back, and I lift her, carrying her to her room. She stares up at me as I place her on the bed and straddle her body, kneeling over her.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice a bit watery. “Not just for this, but everything.”
“You’re welcome, babe, but save the thank yous until I’m done. Your doctor also informed me of another little fact.” Her eyes widen as my hands grip her waistband and yank down her sweat pants. “No sex doesn’t mean I can’t make you come.”
“Jeremy.” Her voice holds a warning when I slide down and lie on my stomach, my face between her legs. Her breath catches as I run a finger over the silk of her panties, which are growing wetter by the second.
“Hmm?” A shiver runs through her when my l
ips follow the path of my finger.
Deep blue eyes catch mine. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, her cheeks flaming.
The panties are flung to the ground. My cock is like a stone, and it’s everything I can do not to come in my pants like a teenager when I get my first taste of her. The way she wriggles under my tongue and moans when I lick her clit doesn’t help me maintain my self-control, but it sure as hell fires me up.
These weeks have been such a tease for both of us. I’ve thought about this every damned day, dreamed of it at night. “Moan and squirm and scream all you want, Mel, but I’m going to eat the fuck out of this pussy.”
It’s clear my words turn her on even more, and I’m thrilled she loves the dirty talk. Because that’s something I couldn’t control if I wanted to.
Her hands tighten in my hair as I work her over, licking and sucking until she’s right on the edge. “Please,” she murmurs.
I peek up at her. “Please what, Melissa? Tell me what you want.”
Closing her eyes, she tilts her head back and clenches her thighs, shoving herself in my face. “Please make me come.”
I’m dying to slip my finger in her, and feel her from the inside, but I keep the no penetration rule in mind. Instead, I latch onto her clit, sucking soft and steady. I have to hold down her hips, so she won’t buck around or be too active, but it doesn’t take long for her to let out a loud cry that damn near shoves me over the edge as well.
Her whole body trembles before she goes limp with a satisfied moan.
Letting her recover, I plant soft kisses on her thighs, working my way up to kiss her growing belly, and swollen tits. God, they’ve grown at least a whole size since I met her. Her hands thread through my hair and wander over my back as I lick one nipple, then the other. Gently. I’m not trying to work her up again, just losing myself in her body.
Her hand slides down between my legs, and I lay my forehead on her chest as she squeezes. “Fuck, Mel, that feels good.” She strokes me a few times, until I brush her hand away. “You can’t. No activity.”
Her lips pooch out, and I swear I’ll never forget seeing this woman pout because she can’t touch my cock.
“I want to see it,” she insists, trying to shove my pants down.
And fuck do I want to show it to her.
My pants and underwear get tossed behind me, and you’d think my cock could feel her stare the way it’s acting. I’ve never been so hard in my life.
Mel reaches down to caress it, tracing the vein, and I have to bite my cheek. “Babe, unless you want me to bust all over your chest, you’d better stop.”
Her eyes brighten, and she pulls her shirt the rest of the way off. She scoots down a bit, then presses her plump tits together in a very clear invitation. “Pretty sure this doesn’t count as active,” she teases.
Maybe a stronger man could have said no. The words were in my head, sounding something like no, I want to be inside you the first time, or I can wait for you. What came out was a gravelly “Fuck, yes,” as I slid my cock between them.
It only takes a few strokes for me to come, my eyes clenched shut. When I look down at her, she wears a very self-satisfied smile.
We take a quick shower, since that’s all she’s allowed, and I crawl into bed with her. “You’re staying the night?” she asks, cuddling against me.
“Are you trying to kick me out?”
“No, but you have company at home.”
I drape my arm around her. “They can tuck each other in.”
Her giggle brings a smile to my face. I hated to see her so miserable.
Chapter Thirteen
Melissa
The last week has been one surprise after another. Jeremy and I are together. He says he loves me. I’m cautiously optimistic because I know how quickly things can fall apart. He thinks he wants to be a father to my son, but I’m worried he’s made the decision impulsively. He lost his girlfriend. My biggest fear is that I’m just a rebound from that. I know that helping me has been a way for him to distract himself and do something good while he tries to sort out his feelings. I’m afraid that he’ll heal and leave me behind. He may not plan to, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.
His confession about his job shocked me a little, but I’m not really worried about it. Child molesters don’t deserve my sympathy, and he explained that they don’t often have to go to extremes. My only concern is how it might affect my son, so I am looking forward to talking to his friends’ wives.
I’m not going to think about any of that today though. Today, I’m going to my first exhibition since I was seventeen years old. I’m so excited, I can hardly sit still. Being confined to a wheelchair is annoying, but I’m not complaining. It was such a thoughtful thing for him to do. I really need to find a way to repay him for his kindness. Maybe Justus will have an idea.
Jeremy leaves me to get ready for my special night, and I take my time dressing up for the first time in years.
Fortunately, I did buy one maternity dress, a simple black dress that isn’t hard to get into or out of. My feet have been swollen lately, so heels are out of the question, even though I won’t be on my feet. Instead, I opt for black ballet flats. I haven’t shopped for much jewelry, but I do have a pair of silver earrings that I can pair with my silver necklace which displays a crystal birthstone. My sister has an identical necklace. Our father bought them for us when we were young, since we were both born in April, two years apart. My gaze keeps catching on the necklace as I put my makeup on and throw my hair into an updo. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see Kelly again, and it tears me apart every time I realize it.
It terrifies me that she may not even survive them. After seeing what they were capable of before, killing all those innocent people in a shopping mall, I don’t doubt they’ll carry out some kind of violence again. And my sweet sister, who couldn’t stand to kill a bug when we were young, will be right in the middle.
As screwed up as they have her head, I’m not sure she wouldn’t kill for them.
“Mel?”
Jeremy’s voice pulls me away from my dark thoughts, and I force a smile before he sees me. I’m not putting a damper on this night. All that past baggage will be there tomorrow for me to brood over. Tonight, I’m going to go to my exhibition with a gorgeous man on my arm. Well, pushing my chair, but close enough.
When he steps into my bedroom, I bemoan the fact that he’ll be behind my wheelchair tonight because I don’t want to take my eyes off of him. He looks amazing.
His dark suit is obviously tailored to show off his assets, and the man has no shortage of those. Good god, it’s a three piece. Call me strange, but a man in one of those vests has always drawn my eyes. But this man makes all I’ve seen in the past wither away.
My lips part, but no sound comes out. I just stare at him, hunk struck.
“Mel, are you okay?”
“I’m going to need to see you without the jacket tonight.”
Chuckling, he strides over to where I sit beside the bed. “You have a thing for suits?”
“Only when you wear them. Fuck, Jeremy.”
He brushes my hair back over my shoulder and beams down at me. “You look beautiful. Every guy in the place is going to be jealous.”
I feel like a whale wrapped in a pretty tarp, but I’m not going to argue. My palm sweeps over his clean face. “You shaved.”
He shrugs. “Special occasion.” He turns his head back and forth. “Don’t you like the boyish me?”
“You’re too damned handsome no matter what you do or wear.” It’s true, but I do kind of want to stomp my feet and demand he return those bristles to his face. I loved the scruff.
“Are you ready?”
“Let’s go.”
#
Jeremy seems perfectly comfortable at the high-class event, and I remind myself that he grew up with money. He was probably trained from birth to attend these kinds of things. No matter how many I go to, I’m never going to feel comfortable
. Watching people mill around and discuss my work is terrifying, humbling, and thrilling all at once.
Like most artists, I live my art. It comes from parts of me I’m not even familiar with. Every drop of paint is imbued with my joys and fears. The strokes reveal my deepest desires and greatest fantasies, explore my shameful faults and shortcomings, and lay bare my frailties and weaknesses for the whole world to see. It’s freeing, euphoric, and absolutely brutal. I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.
“Ms. Sanders!” Penelope calls, rushing over to greet us. I warned her I’d be in the wheelchair and wouldn’t be staying for the whole event. “I’m so glad you could come.”
She leans down where the other guests can’t hear her. “It’s a raging success. Sold out already. We’ve had quite a few offers on ‘Mistake’ if you’ve reconsidered selling?” I can see the hope and dollar signs in her eyes.
Damn. Jeremy hasn’t seen the painting of him I did after the night he threw me out of his house. With the bed rest and everything, I totally forgot about it. “Let me think about it for a bit,” I tell Penelope, glancing back at Jeremy.
Understanding spreads across her face and she excuses herself. “I’ll just let you mingle.”
Jeremy pushes me to the first of my paintings. It’s rough and primal, the first I created after my newfound freedom. It brings back the memory of that moment, how it felt to splash house paint on the giant slab of wood, while my mind was in overdrive at all the changes taking place in my life.
The tree grows from the wood, and seems to melt around the edges, giving it a gloomy look, but the green leaves reach upward, showing the hope I felt for the first time in so long. I was surprised Penelope wanted to include this since it’s far from professional, not painted on a canvas, nor created with oils or watercolors.
I’ve always kept my studio private, and most of these were moved before Jeremy and I started seeing one another every day, so it’s the first work of mine he’s really seen.