Blow

by Fall, Lucy

  No one who lived here had ever really seen me before. I had always been in the shadows, a nothing that wasn’t worth their time or attention. Suddenly, this nothing had been promoted to town vixen.

  That made me feel powerful.

  I was crushing this town’s expectations of Hunter all on my own, and if I had to be the bad guy to get that done, then I was totally okay with that.

  Unlike him, I no longer gave a rat’s ass what anyone in this town thought.

  Chapter 11

  The ringing of the door roused me from my sleep.

  I blinked open my eyes, noting that Hunter was not in bed with me. A familiar booming masculine voice sailed into the room and I curled my nose in distaste.

  Why the hell was Mr. Stedman here at Hunter’s place?

  “Mr. Stedman,” Hunter greeted without any welcome in his voice. “What’s got you stopping by so early?”

  “Hunter, my boy, I wanted to have a talk with you.”

  Wrapping a sheet around me, I tiptoed over to the bedroom door and peeked out.

  “If you stopped by about the job, forget it, I’m not coming back.”

  “Just hear me out.”

  Annoyance crossed Hunter’s face, but he waved his hand toward the couch. “You’re wasting your time, but go ahead, have a seat.”

  Mr. Stedman sat down on the couch, while Hunter took a seat in the chair adjacent from him. His gaze flicked to the bedroom, and I shifted back. If he noticed me, he didn’t show it.

  “I’m listening,” Hunter sighed.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of the things that are being said around town.”

  “I have a vague idea.” Sarcasm dripped from Hunter’s voice.

  “People have no idea who the man is—the violent, rage fueled man on the front page of the paper. Hunter Rhodes is not capable of that. The only change is that girl you’re messing around with.”

  “Eliza has nothing to do with this.”

  “Doesn’t she? She’s got you by the balls and you’ve lost focus on the future. Sophie is the match you need. She’ll fix the way the town is looking at you now. They’re cheering for you two.”

  Hunter shot to his feet, his voice booming. “Why won’t anyone in this fucking town accept that I don’t want to be with Sophie?”

  Mr. Stedman also rose, taking a couple of steps back from Hunter. Most likely because he didn’t want to be the civilian to get a pummeling by Hunter.

  “Look, I know you don’t necessarily love my daughter. And that’s okay. I never loved her mother. But the Rhodes family and the Stedman’s were always meant to join forces. Keep the girl on the side if you must, but your future is as Sophie’s husband and my protégé, and I’d like to see you take over my multi-million dollar company someday.”

  “You need to fucking hear me.” Hunter stepped forward baring his teeth and he pointed at the other man. “I’m not marrying Sophie, for any reason. I’m with Eliza. She is not ever going to be my side chick. She is my only chick. That’s not changing just because you are waving a lavish lifestyle in my face.”

  Love expanded in my chest. I had to force myself to stay in my hiding spot and not rush him right where he stood.

  Eyes bulging, Mr. Stedman stared at Hunter for a long time as if he couldn’t grasp that he’d been told no. Just like his daughter, they were both used to always getting their way.

  “That girl is going to be your downfall, Hunter,” the older man said bitterly. “Don’t come running to us when it all falls apart.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Hunter strode to the door and yanked it open. “Have a nice day.”

  There was nothing nice about his tone.

  And Stedman left without another word.

  I stepped out of the bedroom and Hunter spun around then scrubbed the back of his head. “Fuck. I didn’t want you to hear that.”

  Letting go of the sheet, I walked over to him, naked. His eyes widened as they traveled over me. “Eliza, are you okay?”

  He had no idea how much what he said had meant to me, nor how much it had turned me on. Without a word, I took him by the hand and led him to the couch. I pushed him down on the cushions and stood over him.

  I couldn’t tell this man that I loved him. Not yet. But I could show him with my body.

  I tugged at his jogging pants. He lifted his hips so I could get them pulled down, already his cock stood proud. As I straddled him, he watched me intently.

  “Damn you are sexy, woman.”

  “And you are the hottest man I have ever laid eyes on.”

  Surprise rounded his eyes as he grunted.

  “I want to ride you. Can I Hunter? Can I ride you?”

  His hands slid up my thighs to my hip. “Hell, yes.”

  I shifted so the head of his cock probed my center. I rotated my hips, wetting the tip. Leaning down, I kissed his neck, biting on the skin. I brushed my lips to his ear. “I love your cock inside me.”

  He grunted again, his hand pushing down on my hips. I resisted. I was going to take him in the way I wanted to.

  I switched to the other side of neck, kissing my way to his ear, then whispered, “I love the feeling as you fuck me.”

  As I spoke I slowly lowered on to him, gasping as he filled me. I was never going to get enough of that first thrust. How empty I was seconds before he stretched me full.

  “Fuck woman.”

  “God, Hunter, I can’t get enough of you.” I rode him, taking my time lifting up then taking him back in. His fingers bit into my hips and he shoved harder.

  Smiling, I enjoyed his frustration. Too many times he’d done the same to me. I refused to increase my speed. A few moments later, a long feral growl vibrated out of his chest. As he suddenly stood with me, I squealed.

  “Never tease me, Eliza. I’m stronger than you.”

  He lowered me onto the couch, then pulled out. Next thing I knew he had me flipped over the armrest of couch. Then he standing behind me, thrusting deep.

  A moan rattled out of my throat. He pounded my pussy hard, the front of my thighs pressing further and further into the armrest. I slipped my fingers between my body and couch until I could rub my clit.

  “That’s it, rub that pussy.”

  Our skin smacked. Our heavy breathing melded together. Groans mingled. We were one.

  My orgasm hit hard and fast. “Oh, god.”

  He thrust one more time deep and stiffened, his deep moan filled the air. His body jerked. A quick kiss landed between my shoulders before a sharp smack landed on my ass.

  “Oh!”

  His chuckles followed him out of the room as he went into the bathroom. My plan had been to show Hunter how much I loved him with my body. Instead he showed me how he dominated mine.

  * * *

  Ever since Sophie’s dad had left four days ago, we had stayed hunkered down at his apartment. Both of us were starting to go stir crazy.

  Hunter had volunteered to go grab some groceries. I let him go without argument. I wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s shit today. I’d been applying to online job postings all weeks and hadn’t heard anything back.

  Hunter kept questioning why I wasn’t looking for something in my field and kept applying to all the menial jobs. I tried not to take offense at his question, but it was hard to feel like the man you loved was looking down on. The truth was, there just wasn’t anything available in advertising. Not around here at least.

  Antsy, I wandered around the living room. I was all TV’d out. If I watched another episode of anything on Netflix, I’d scream. What I needed was a good book. I walked into Hunter’s room and went over to the bookcase on the far wall. All kinds of different genres of fiction filled the shelves. Read it. Read it. Read it.

  An unmarked leather bound book caught my attention. I took it off the bookshelf and flipped it open. Handwritten words filled the pages. I checked the front to see if there was a name, but nothing told me who the book belonged to. Curious, I took it with me back into the li
ving room then curled up in the black leather chair and opened to the first page.

  A bullet whizzed by his ear.

  He hit the ground behind a red clay boulder and raised rifle. Looking through the scope, he scanned the dry, desolate landscape.

  No movement. All was quiet.

  Goddamn it. What had happened?

  He glanced across the stretch of sand to his comrade slumped down, hiding behind a medium-sized boulder. He held up one finger and pointed to the edge of the building about twenty yards away.

  They needed to get inside for better coverage. The other soldier nodded and moved into position to run.

  He went back to looking through the scope as the other guy crouch-ran to the building.

  Bullets rained down, causing the sand to puff up. He didn’t have time to check on the soldier. He lit up the enemy line with a stream of bullets.

  Oppositional fire moved in his direction, hitting his boulder. He covered his head with his arms as clots of dirt fell around him. He breathed heavily, trying to calm his racing heart.

  That had been close. Too close.

  The insurgents had taken them by surprise. He searched for the other soldier. He hadn’t made it to the building, he was pressed against another rock, holding his hand against the wound on his waist.

  Fuck. They had to get out of here. Needed to get him help.

  What was this? I flipped through the book and realized the book was almost completely filled with all handwritten pages. Was Hunter writing a book? I had no idea Hunter even wrote, much less so well. That had been an intense opening, it’d grabbed me immediately and I was curious to read more. I flipped to a few pages in.

  Blood saturated the other soldier’s swollen face. A man he’d fought alongside for over a year was barely recognizable. He wasn’t moving. Not breathing. The beating he’d taken had been too much. The fuckers had killed him. For nothing. His stomach twisted violently. He was going to vomit.

  I switched to a different section.

  Tonight was a bad night.

  He couldn’t find any reason to continue baring the torture, the pain. He wanted it to end. All of it to end. One person shouldn’t have to endure so much. He would forever be changed. If he ever got out of here, he’d never be able to live in the regular world again.

  He lifted the rock in the corner of his hell then ran his filthy finger along the folded paper underneath. His one piece of light in nothing but dark. He moved to the one spot in his cell where a ray of light beamed through a crevice in his hell. He unfolded the paper. Something he had done so often that he worried the paper would start to fall apart.

  But her handwriting instantly calmed him, gave him a reason to endure. One day, he would get the fuck out of this hell hole and find her. Make good on all the things she said she wished they could do together. She had never been someone he’d glanced at, and he wished he could take that back now. There had been ample opportunity. But she wasn’t part of his class. She was beneath him.

  In this hellhole, none of the trivial stuff mattered. None. Of. It. What did was how these words made him feel invincible.

  She didn’t know he’d noticed her, watched her. But he had, ever since she’d stood so awkwardly in front him at a party one night. But then it was too late. He had already decided to enlist, and his focus was on that. He wished he’d pursued her then. Wished he’d known what it was like to live the words she’d written. But he’d been spoiled, aware of his station in life. Knew a different future was waiting for him when he came back.

  Now he knew better. Knew what was really important.

  It wasn’t money or fame. It was someone who made you feel like you were their world. That was strength. That was motivation. That was a reason to live.

  She had become his reason. She was his future.

  Tears blurred my vision. Hunter had never said those words to me, but it was as clear as if he was speaking them right to me and it made my heart twist. I wanted to celebrate in his words. Know that everything he’d ever said to me had been true. But I couldn’t. Not with the way this was written.

  Hunter needed help. This was his story, his horror and he was writing it down in third person. As if it’d happened to someone else.

  It wasn’t right. He needed to own this as his experience. Denying it couldn’t be good for him. I couldn’t deny that writing it alone was therapeutic, but it was like he was writing it from an out of body experience, from afar, and that was bad.

  I felt like I was trespassing into his thoughts, but he had never shared with me how he’d escaped. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know. The man had been held in captivity for over year. What had happened that had finally given him the chance for escape.

  Had he written that part yet? I flipped toward the end.

  The rebel grabbed his chest, a perplexed look crossed his face, one that was a combination of surprise and worry. His mouth popped open, but no noise escaped.

  The captive had no idea what to do. He watched, assessing the moment, waiting for the other man to get control of himself.

  Instead, the rebel collapsed to his knees and the eyes that met the captives were vacant and wide. He fell face-first onto the dirt, unmoving. The captive was stunned. And his gaze jumped to the open door.

  After a year, his opportunity to escape was because the man escorting him back to his hell had a heart attack. He refused to believe he’d make it out alive, refused to hope. So many factors played in this moment. No one could see him. No one could check on his escort.

  He didn’t have much time. Desperation welled up inside him, urging him to run, to leave the hell behind him that had destroyed his life. He pushed it back, refusing to let it control him. Those kind of emotions would end up getting him killed after fighting for so long to stay alive.

  Then he was running. For his life. For his future. Running like he had never ran before because he didn’t want to die here, he wanted to live---

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I jumped. I was so engrossed in the reading that it took me a moment to even realize that Hunter had opened the door. I closed the book and rose.

  “This is very well written, Hunter.”

  He stalked over and snatched it from my hands. “That wasn’t for you to read.”

  “I found it by accident. But I think it’s something people should see. I think it’s important for people to know your story.”

  His face hardened. “It’s not my story.”

  The denial he was in was astounding. “It is your story, you just won’t accept it.”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Eliza. You’re not in my head, you have no fucking idea what I’m thinking.”

  “Really? So the scene where the hero watches his friend get beat to death isn’t about you? Do you even remember telling me about that?”

  “It’s not about me,” he yelled hurling the journal at the wall.

  I stared at him dumbfounded. “Hunter, you need therapy, someone to help you through the trauma.” I walked across the room and picked up the book. “You wrote this in third person.”

  “So fucking what?”

  “Even in rehashing it you’re having it happen to someone else. It happened to you. Own it, Hunter! Hell, you haven’t owned a thing since you got back. You walk around this town as if you were still the same kid that left. You aren’t. You changed. And it’s okay. You just need to accept it.”

  His body shook from anger. I worried maybe I had gone too far, but he needed to hear it. He needed to heal and as long as he was in denial, he wouldn’t. He’d carry it around with him until exploded like he did a week ago. Next time he might kill someone.

  “You can’t keep it bottled up inside. It’s time for you to be who you are and stop hiding.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  I jerked back at the unexpected accusation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re standing there accusing me of not being my true self. Well,
tell me what you’ve done to be true to yourself? You’re hiding from your own life.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “For fuck’s sake, you have a degree, but worked in a coffee shop instead of pursuing your dream. You didn’t even approach me until the night before I went away for boot camp and even that was through a letter. So don’t preach at me about living an authentic life. You’ve been living in a fantasy world since you were in high school and you’re too scared to leave it.”

  Feeling like he had slapped me, I gasped and took a step back. Maybe I had come across a little strong, but it was all for worry about him, wanting the best for him. His diatribe was a personal attack. “Writing that letter was stepping out of my comfort zone. You have no idea how hard it was to put myself out there like that.”

  “Yeah. So hard.” An ugly sneer contorted his face. “You hid behind a letter the same you’re accusing me of hiding behind a journal.”

  The censure in his voice caused tears to burn the back of my eyes.

  “You need to worry about fixing your own life before you get on me about fixing mine,” he continued. “You snooped through my shit, hell—you’re no better than Sophie.”

  That insult was like a physical blow.

  The disgust in his voice was worse than any pain he’d inflicted on me.

  Finally, the moment I’d been dreading had arrived. The moment my heart was shattered.

  I looked down at the floor, not wanting him to see my tears. They threatened to explode from my eyes, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “I guess we’ve said all there is to say to each other.” I snatched my purse off the couch.

  “I guess we have.”

  I stormed past him, wrenched open the door then slammed it behind me. The slamming marked the end of our relationship and I froze, then slowly turned to stare at the door, willing it to open. For him to come after me. It stayed closed.

  Sadness swept in and took away all my anger.

  It was over. In reality it had been over since the moment he’d knocked on my door weeks ago. Hunter Rhodes would never be what I wanted him to be.

  Hunter Rhodes was always going to be a lone wolf, resisting all attempts to ever truly be close to another in this life.