My Way to Hell

by Dakota Cassidy

  Scooping her up, he carried her to the bedroom, where he drew back a blanket she still couldn’t totally get a grip on and laid her down. Tugging the covers up over her, he turned to leave, but she called to him in a hoarse whisper. “Stay. Please. Stay with me” was all she could manage. She was raw, vulnerable, needy, and for the first time in a long time, she let the hard shell of her misery crack just enough to let someone in.

  Kellen didn’t hesitate. His face flashed one emotion after the other as he walked to the edge of the bed, folding his long, strong body to climb in beside her.

  Marcella pulled him close, so grateful that if she could touch nothing else, she could touch him. She needed to cling to something solid, life-affirming, even if she had no earthly identity of her own.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of the skin she’d craved for so long. His hands found her waist, fitting her to the lower half of his body, letting his fingers skim her hips, her back, moving in slow circles until she could no longer bear not to have him touching her.

  Everywhere.

  Marcella sensed his hesitance—the touch of his hands sought answers to his questions. Yet, she was fragile, chafed with the rash of memories dredged up from a place she’d hoped to keep buried. Her pride fell from around her like a cloak falling to the ground when she took matters into her own hands.

  Damn the pain this might bring her when she was gone and left with nothing but memories. Damn the pride that had kept her from revealing her past. Damn the fact that they’d never have a future.

  There was only now.

  Her heart quickened in her chest, thumping hard against her ribs when she pulled his hands from her back and placed them on her breasts, arching into his lean fingers when they kneaded her.

  Kellen’s eyes met hers, dark, sexy, full of more uncertainties.

  She answered the question by giving him an easy smile.

  His groan, hot, sultry, uneven, made her nipples harden to sharp tips. Marcella lifted her hips, grinding them into his, reveling in the thick outline of his cock straining against his jeans.

  Hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, but couldn’t grasp it. Feeling her inability to remove his clothing, he did it for her. Rising from the bed, he kicked off his sneakers and tugged off his shirt.

  His chest, broad, hard, sculpted to within an inch of its life, gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the bedroom window, making her mouth dry. When he jerked his jeans over his hips, lean and angled, she wheezed a sharp intake of breath. The thick muscles of his thighs flexed and bulged as though they’d been molded in granite.

  The glimpse of his cock, straight, wide, long, had Marcella fighting a squirm of unashamed anticipation.

  She attempted to remove her own clothing, but failed. Why could she touch it, but not take it off? Her eyes sought Kellen’s for help. He sank back onto the bed, and his own eyes, dark, delicious, took her in with brazen curiosity when he lifted her dress over her head.

  If this was a bust, at least she didn’t have that horrible dress on anymore.

  Marcella lay back on the bed, openly displaying herself to him. She was far from ashamed of her body, and she wanted him to know that not a single inch of her was going to regret this.

  Parting her legs with forceful, hurried hands, he sank between them, letting his cock lie against her belly. She heard the moan escape her lips and didn’t attempt to fight it. Laying herself bare was right. All the emotions, yearning, need that went with the desire she’d felt for him for so long wouldn’t be quelled.

  Reaching up, she curled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, running her nails along his scalp, writhing beneath him when he groaned in her ear as they rolled their lower bodies together.

  Kellen’s lips moved to hers with painstakingly slow, measured nips to her ear, her jaw. Marcella beckoned him, dragging his mouth to finally meet hers.

  The contact was exquisite, delicious, as they lay with their lips pressed together, semiopen, unmoving until Kellen took his first swipe along her mouth with his tongue. He circled it, teasing the outline, nipping it, creating a moist heat low in the pit of her belly. When he finally took possession of her lips, she jolted under him, raising her hips in response to the decadently sweet taste of their joined mouths.

  His kiss was fierce, possessive, wrought with something she couldn’t claim to understand, but identified with just the same. Kellen’s hand swept along her naked hip, draping the tips of his fingers along the curve, running them down along her thighs.

  Marcella followed suit, kneading his thickly muscled back, drawing her hands along the firm globes of his ass, raising her hips, whimpering her need to have him take her.

  Kellen pulled back, but Marcella refused to let him go. The rest could come later. At this very moment, all she wanted was him inside her, driving into her, erasing everything but their bodies panting for each other.

  Intuitively, he understood, parting her thighs, wrapping them around his waist, poising at her entrance, positioning himself. Yet before he took his first stroke, he cupped her cheek and demanded, “Look at me. When I make love to you, I want you to see me.”

  His gruff tone, the strain of his muscles, the demand in his tone made her shiver with the force of her pent-up desire.

  Lifting her chin, Marcella met his eyes—sinfully hot.

  He stroked his hands over her belly, smoothing the skin before dipping into the heat of her sex with fiery fingers, dragging them over her clit, eliciting moans of need from her lips.

  Parting her, he took the head of his cock in his hand—their eyes locked.

  And then he drove into her, fiercely, deeply, plunging into her and stretching her so deliciously, it left her breathless.

  Her nipples tightened, aching to feel his mouth on them when he dipped his dark head to take one between his lips. She hissed her approval, bucking upward, accepting his thick cock with a near scream of ecstasy.

  Kellen’s tongue laved each sensitive nipple with rasps of his lips, inhaling and tugging at them until the pleasure/pain left tears in her eyes. Another plunge and he was deep within, driving a slow, hot path to her core.

  Rising up on her elbows, she marveled at his dark head against her skin before she pulled him from her breast and bracketed his jaw with her hands. He needed to be closer, deeper. She wanted to absorb him, melt into his heavy weight until they were one. He took her mouth again, ravaging it, slicing his tongue in and out of her mouth, pushing her back to the bed.

  Using his feet, Kellen upped the ante by plunging harder, rocking them against one another, their hips crashing as they rode this hot wave of need. Sweat formed a slick glide on their skin, sensuously easing their back-and-forth motion.

  Her hands clawed at his back, slipping beneath his hard arms and clutching at his shoulders as she met him stroke for stroke. Wet heat spiraled low in her sex, throbbing, pulsing until she thrashed her head from side to side.

  Kellen hiked her legs up higher, driving, seeking, pushing her until she could no longer stave off the flood of white-hot orgasm.

  She came with a howl, rearing up against him, their flesh slapping in a decadent rhythm, shuddering against the wide shelter of his chest. Her neck arched and Kellen buried his face in the sensitive spot just above her collarbone, every muscle in his body straining, tensing until he threw his head back and roared his release, husky and victorious.

  His orgasm spilled into her, filling her, washing her with a satisfaction she hadn’t ever achieved in any other encounter.

  Their breath was jagged, splintered by the wheeze of the fight to bring air to their lungs. Boneless, Kellen collapsed against her, sweat glistening on his forehead, leaving a glow on his ruddy skin.

  Her emotions ran high as she fought for breath. This—what they’d just shared had been fiery hot, passionate, but there had been a need she couldn’t define. A hole inside of her that had just been filled with something she was a
fraid to examine. She wanted to run away from it—hide—skulk off somewhere to dissect it. This had been so much more than just a fantasy realized.

  So much more.

  Marcella stiffened beneath him, but Kellen slipped his hands under her waist and pulled her closer. “Don’t. You can’t run away from what just happened, from what you feel for me.”

  “I don’t run. I float,” she replied, knowing it was sarcastic, yet stupidly wanting it to hurt him.

  “Then you’re not floating away, either. So tell me, Marcella Acosta, are you always this cranky after you make love?”

  Her eyebrows rose in a familiar expression of boredom. The one she’d used time and again when it was time for a lover to hit the bricks. “I’ve never stuck around this long to find out. In fact, your two minutes are up. Get off me.”

  He grinned. Damn him. He was grinning. “Oooh—big, bad demon. Well done. But forget it. Again, I revert back to the article I read in a medical journal about defense mechanisms and the brain’s reaction to them. Your defense, when someone gets too close, is to run away. You don’t want to get in too deep because you’ve been sorely disappointed so much in your life that you’re afraid to be hurt by something that has as much impact as what just happened between us did.”

  “How much do you charge an hour?”

  “For?”

  “Your psych evals.”

  “Consider this pro bono.”

  “For charity cases like poor, little me?”

  “For ex-demons who’re wussies and won’t own their real feelings.” He grinned again, wide and delectable. Just for good measure.

  “And this is owning yours? We just slammed the shit out of each other. Sometimes, the brain’s reaction after bumping uglies is to be all warm and fuzzy. It’s the release of all those hormones and they’re usually all wonky, Mr. Science Teacher, and I don’t need some silly medical journal to tell me that. Maybe you might want to sleep on it,” she retorted, purposely being cruel.

  “Ah, now this is the part where you say things you don’t really mean because you want to push me away. It’s okay. I get it. Go on. Hurt me.”

  Run. She desperately wanted to run. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it’s far past the time for you to stop running away. That wasn’t just sex we had, Marcella. You know it. I know it. Own it.”

  As though, because Kellen Markham had said it—it should be deemed so. Hah!

  Shoving at his heavy weight, she scoffed. “I’m not running away from anything. We had sex. People have it all the time. In fact, I’d bet there are at least a million people who’re making each other’s eyeballs wobble as we speak. So what?”

  “Nah. We didn’t just have sex. We made love. Love, love, looove. Suck that up, Buttercup.” He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, but only further infuriating her.

  “Get off of me, you beast. Jesus, what did you have for lunch? You’re heavy.”

  “I had a tuna melt on wheat with American cheese. My favorite. In case you ever can actually hold a frying pan again. Oh, and I don’t like ketchup on my fries. I love these things called Choco-Bliss, could eat ’em by the box, and if you ever tell D I said that, I’ll lie to her face. I’m not a fan of fish unless it’s a stick or fried and buried in tartar sauce. My favorite vegetable is green beans. I read comic books for fun, but if I’m honest, I like Popular Science just as much. I’m a sci-fi nut and there’s nothing better than watching NASCAR with a beer because you can nap between laps without missing much. And funny, you weren’t complaining about my weight when we made love.”

  Kellen liked Choco-Bliss? Oh, to have a box of those fuckers right now. Her chest tightened, her throat right behind it. “This isn’t Love Connection, Chuck Woolery. I don’t care what you like.”

  With a nod of his head, he smiled and said, “Yes. Yes, you do.”

  Her eyes turned pleading. “Can’t we just leave this alone? Take it for what it was, and let it be?”

  “It was making love. And sure, we could do that, but if we did that, we’d only regret it later. And I’m not so much into regrets anymore.”

  “I have no regrets.” Which made her a liar.

  “You will if you run away from me now. I’m a fine specimen of man. Loyal, honest, maybe a little pigheaded, and once very judgmental, but those days are gone. You’re a smart girl. Why would you want to miss out on all of this?” he teased.

  Because all of this would be taken from her. When or where, she had no clue. But it would. That was just a fact, and she finally admitted as much. “Because all of you will be here and all of me will be back on Plane Drab.”

  His gaze became tender but riddled with determination. “Well, here’s the thing. I’m not going to let that happen. I don’t know how I’ll stop it, but I will. I’ll find a way. I’ll pay better attention to my otherworldly contacts. I’ll sit with them all night and listen to their gibberish with pleasure if it means figuring this out. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Marcella Acosta—you’re not going anywhere.” Planting a kiss on her nose, he tightened his grip, obviously knowing his admission was a surefire way to scare her into flight, er, float.

  Whatever.

  But it was impossible to deny how much she wanted his words to become a reality. How much she wanted to let go of the reality and hope right along with him, if only just for a little while. “I’m too afraid to hope for that.”

  He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Ah, an admission of fear. Now we’re getting somewhere. Look, I know it seems impossible, but I have faith there’s a reason you can’t get back to where you were when this began. I don’t know what it is, but there is one.”

  Well, yeah. It was because she’d skipped the class “Plane Jumping without a Parachute” due to one of her extended pity parties. “I think you’re placing way too much faith in karma, destiny, whatever. I think I can’t get back simply because I didn’t pay attention when they were teaching me how to get back. I was moping.”

  “You’re due a certain amount of moping.”

  “Thank you for granting my wish, Moping Fairy.”

  Rolling over, Kellen pulled her on top of him, pressing her sensitive nipples to his chest. “We need a plan.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “You need your head examined.”

  “No. I need you to cooperate.”

  “I’m not important. Carlos is important. If you’re going to summon up the afterlife, do it for him. Not me.”

  He stared at her for a long time. “I just can’t understand how I missed this quality in you.”

  “What quality?”

  “The selfless one. Your fear for Carlos is much bigger than even your desire to stay here.”

  “I wouldn’t lay odds that if someone offered me the chance to shop for a new damned dress, I wouldn’t give him up like a bad habit.”

  Kellen’s chest rumbled with laughter, sending a sweet thrill of ridiculousness throughout her body. “I would.” He kissed her then, long, slow, toe-curling. “I think we should take Delaney up on her offer to have a séance and see who we can contact.”

  “Did you tell her about Carlos?”

  “I did, and she said the best way to find something out is to summon the spirits and see what we can see.”

  “I saw Lucifer today.”

  Concern laced his glance up at her. “Stay the hell away from him, Marcella. I mean it. I’ll kill him if he touches one pretty hair on your head. I realize he’s got a whole army of minions who’d probably rip me to shreds with their whacked mojo, but he’ll remember who I am before I go down.”

  That protective tone he was showing off made her go all gooey on the inside again. “He can’t hurt me anymore, Kellen. I’m not under his rule, and believe me, he was thrilled to tell me so.”

  Kellen’s eyes turned to granite. “So what did the prick have to say for himself?”

  “He claims he knows nothing about Armando, but you can bet your ass now that he’s gotten wind Armando’s rogue, he�
��ll want to know what’s up. If nothing else, that might work in our favor.”

  “Do you believe him? He’s not exactly known for his honesty.”

  “I can’t explain why I do, but yes. I believe him. So let’s forget him and focus on what Delaney said.”

  “She’s convinced we can find help for Carlos. The problem is she’s not so convinced they’ll talk to me instead of her.”

  “Well, you aren’t exactly Melinda Gordon.”

  He grabbed a handful of her butt and squeezed it playfully. “Hey. Neither was Delaney.”

  Marcella’s eyes went soft. “But she had a way with them that I can’t describe. She joked with them. She cajoled them into doing what she wanted—which was for everyone to have a happy eternity. Celebrities showed up by the dozen for her. And speaking of, have we considered what Joe and Maurice said?”

  “Right now it means nothing to me. It doesn’t add up to anything significant. I did look up Joe and this ‘monkey business’ he keeps referring to. It’s a title from one of Marilyn Monroe’s films, and could have a million different meanings. There’s been plenty of monkey business going on. Though I think the ‘how can you mend a broken heart’ and ‘jive talkin” referred to you and what happened with your son.” He said it tentatively, letting her mull the information.

  Indirectly, it made sense. She had done a lot of jive talkin’, and she’d certainly had a broken heart that needed mending. “That’s very true. Either way, they’re not giving us the kind of information Delaney was able to get from them. I don’t know what it was, but all of the afterlife loved her.” Her admiration for Delaney had always been next to iconic. Time and time again, when she’d wanted to throw her hands up and flip whatever ghost had come calling the bird because they were interfering with their lunch date, Delaney’d hung tough.

  Nipping at her lower lip, Kellen said, “She deserves to know about your son—about you. Who you really are.”

  “Delaney knows who I really am.” Her voice hitched. She’d always known—somehow. Delaney had placed trust in her more than any other human being. Delaney knew who she was better than anyone else.