by Carian Cole
“Tell me what you want, darlin’.”
She shakes her head and tries to pull her hand out of mine, but I hold onto her. “Say it.” It’s a gentle command for me to gauge her willingness to give.
“More of that,” she whispers, and another tear slowly slides down her cheek. She brushes it away with her finger, her cheeks reddening. “I’m sorry . . . I cry a lot lately . . .”
I lean my head down and rest my forehead against hers. “Don’t apologize. Even the sky cries.”
I close my eyes and inhale the coconut scent of her shampoo for a few moments and then lift her up, wrapping her legs around my waist and kissing her long and deep, my hands on her ass, holding her body tight against mine. She circles her arms around my neck as I carry her down the hallway to my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me. Sterling hasn’t been around any sex activities yet, and I don’t want to find out if he’s going to try to get in on the action or start a purr-fest.
I drop her on the bed and fall on top of her, trying not to crush her. She’s the smallest chick I’ve ever fucked and my mind is racing with ideas of what I can do with someone this short and light. That can wait though. Today will be for her.
I expect her to lie there, frozen, but she’s in a frenzy, pulling at my shirt, trying to get it off me. I’m pretty sure this is more about an inner rebellion for her and not exactly wanting me, but I’m okay with that. At least for now. I sit on top of her and let her tug my shirt up over my head. Her hands still and her eyes widen as she takes me in, her focus wandering over the colorful tattoos that span my arms and chest. I know that my looks are most likely a shock to her, and she’s probably not used to a huge muscular guy with long blue-black hair, covered in tattoos, crawling all over her. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll have little memory of any men before me. She’ll be Vandal-ized for life.
Capturing her hands in mine, I pin them over her head on the mattress, slowly sliding my body down hers until my lips meet hers again. I kiss her hungrily, demanding her breath, then move my mouth down her neck, sucking and biting her delicate flesh, marking each inch I touch with lust. I want to see the evidence of fucking her when we’re done, and I want her to see it, too. The fabric of her thin blouse rips down the middle with a quick, well-practiced tear, exposing a purple bra stretched over her breasts. I glide my tongue between her soft mounds, my hands squeezing her through the satin material. I flick my tongue over her nipple, wetting the thin fabric that covers her.
Leaning up off of her a bit, I reach down and pull the small knife from my ankle strap and flick the blade out of its case with a quick snap of my wrist. Her eyes flash with fear and her breath quickens as she watches me bring the blade closer to her. I slide it between her breasts, under the small piece of material, and yank it up quickly, slicing the bra in half. The two pieces of fabric fall to each side, exposing her breasts. I close the blade and toss the knife to the floor and give her all my attention. Her tits are small in my hands, but firm and round, her nipples pressing against my palms as I gently squeeze and caress them.
My lips meet hers for a rough kiss. “You. are. exquisite,” I whisper slowly before I drag my tongue from her lips, down to suck one of those taut little buds into my mouth while I tease the other in my hand, twisting the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Her body writhes beneath me, pressing against mine. Her hands finally realize they’re free and she tangles them in my hair as I feast on her breasts until she starts to moan.
Standing slowly, I move to the end of the bed, watching her intently as she watches me. I grab one of her feet and pull off one shoe, then the other. She’s chewing on her lower lip as she watches me, fighting an inner battle. Part of her wants to stop me, and part of her wants to go over the edge to escape the pain and grief, but we both know she’s not turning back now.
Reaching for her waist, I yank her jeans and panties down in one quick pull and throw them to the floor, pausing to drink her in for a moment: naked, and pale on my dark comforter, and just so breathtaking. A long, jagged scar runs down her side, and a few more are on her legs. Of course, these are from the accident. My sins engraved in her perfect body, forever.
Locking my eyes onto hers, I kick my boots off, unbuckle my belt, unbutton my jeans, tug the zipper down, and step out of them. She stares at the ceiling as I go to the nightstand to get a condom and quickly slip it on. My cock is hard as a rock, jutting out from my body, aching to get into her sweet pussy.
Crawling between her legs, I run my hand slowly down the inside of her thigh, my fingers welcomed by her wet, satiny lips. She doesn’t know it, but this is just as hard, just as out of bounds for me as it is for her. I think this girl may ruin me even more than I’m going to ruin her.
Her muscles clench around my fingers, dragging me out of my thoughts. She spreads her legs for me in silent invitation, and I thrust my cock into her, hard and deep, causing her to cry out, her back arching up.
“Holy fuck,” she gasps. Yes.
Lowering myself onto her, I kiss her savagely as I pump in and out of her tight pussy, fisting her hair in my hand so she can’t move her head away from me. Our eyes lock on to each other, prying into each other’s souls. She wraps her legs around my waist and digs her nails into my back, hard, dragging them down and digging deeper with each thrust of my hips. I can feel the warmth of my blood under her nails, and it feels like heaven.
She whimpers, and I kiss her lips more softly. “Don’t stop,” I whisper hoarsely against her mouth. “Scratch me. Hurt me. Let all your pain out on me.”
And she does. The harder I fuck her, the more she sinks her nails into me and bites my shoulder and neck. The pain does nothing but turn me on even more, my head reeling with such euphoria that I feel dizzy and utterly lost in her. I want the world to stop right now in this moment, with my cock buried in this broken girl who is tied to me in our united, twisted devastation.
She climaxes wildly, thrashing beneath me, nails grating into my ass, screaming everything except for my name, because she doesn’t know it yet. I hold out until she’s panting for breath, and then I move in and out of her slowly, deliberately, deeply, inch by inch, savoring every tight, wet part of her until I explode.
She starts to tremble and cry as her orgasm fades, and I ease out of her, quickly pulling the condom off and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the bed. Rolling onto my side, I gently put an arm around her.
“It’s okay,” I soothe, pulling the comforter up to cover her.
“I’m sorry . . . I’m just so tired, and I haven’t slept in so long . . .” She covers her face with her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so fucking scared.”
“Stay right here.”
I pull my jeans on and go into the bathroom, rummaging in the medicine cabinet until I find what I’m looking for, then grab her some water from the kitchen and head back to the bedroom, sitting on the bed next to her and holding the pill and water out to her.
“What is it?” she asks, warily.
“It’s just a Valium. It will help you sleep.”
“Here?”
“Do you need to go home?”
She shakes her head while twisting her wedding band around her finger. “No. There’s nothing there. I hate being there. He’s everywhere.”
“Then take it and let yourself sleep as long as you want. Okay?”
She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Trust me, I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights. You’ll feel better if you get some rest. I’ll be right out in the living room with the cat. I won’t bother you at all.”
She shrugs, pops the pill in her mouth, and swallows it with some water while eyeing me over the bottle, then falls back onto the pillow and looks at me with a dazed expression on her face. “I have no idea who you are or what the hell just happened. I don’t do things like that. Ever. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Grinning, I pull the comforter up around her, much
like I used to do with Katie. “Neither do I, for what it’s worth. Now sleep.”
CHAPTER 9
TABITHA
THE SUN SHINING on my face wakes me. I sit up groggily and look out the window at the lake. It’s pretty here, and quiet. Almost serene. I quickly glance around the room that I slept in. Vaulted ceilings with raw wooden beams, hardwood floors with thick area rugs, cherry-wood furniture . . . a huge stone electric fireplace takes up one corner of the room. Everything looks rustic and expensive, and out of place for the guy who claims to live here. Heat rushes between my legs as memories of him flip through my mind like a slow-motion movie. He’s like no one I’ve ever met before. His voice, so deep. Sexy, but soothing. That amazing long black hair. The smudged dirt on his face and hands. Muscles like a wrestler, and all those tattoos. I swear his eyes were black as the ace of spades.
I think back on how those dark eyes bored straight into the very depths of me as he moved in and out of me. He knew exactly how to touch me, where to touch me, as if we’d been making love forever. He knew how to take control and just let me be.
I let him touch me. The guilt of it makes me shiver. Nick would be so disgusted by me if he could see me now, and that’s how I want it. The man I love is gone, so it only seems fair that the woman he loves should be gone, too.
Faint voices coming from somewhere out in the house break my thoughts. There’s a female voice mixed with his deep one.
Holy shit, I don’t even know who he is.
You are a pig, Tabitha. A whore.
I look for my clothes and find my jeans at the foot of the bed, and my shirt and bra on the other side of the room, torn in pieces. The knife is lying on the floor, and I shiver as I remember how the blade felt against my skin, cold and sharp.
You liked it.
I pilfer his dresser and find a white T-shirt. It’s huge, so I tie a knot in the back and creep out into the hallway, wondering if I should go to him or just hide in the bedroom. The voices are coming from the kitchen, so I slowly make my way down the hall, hoping I’m not interrupting something I shouldn’t be. For all I know, he could be married, and I could have just slept in his wife’s bed.
She sees me first and stops talking, her face literally freezing in mid-sentence. She turns to him. “Um, who’s that? I didn’t know you had company. Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“She was sleeping.” He’s making coffee, wearing nothing but jeans. Even from where I’m standing, I can see the long scratch marks I raked into his back last night. Can’t she see that? Why isn’t she questioning it?
She keeps staring at me in such a way that makes me think this must be some sort of girlfriend. She doesn’t look mad though, just shocked.
“I . . . I’m sorry. I just—” I mumble not knowing what to say. “I should go.”
How, you idiot? You came here with him.
“No,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “You stay. Evie’s just a friend. My cousin’s girlfriend, actually.”
“Fiancée, actually,” she corrects.
He makes a face at her. “Whatever.” He turns to me. “She was just checking in on me and the cat.”
She nods in agreement with him. “I got worried when I didn’t hear from him last night, so I just drove up to check on him. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She grabs her purse and keys. “I’ll be going then.” She glares at him on her way out. “Call me later.” She turns to me. “Nice meeting you.”
“You, too.” I debate whether I should ask her for a ride, but she’s out the door too fast. I’m not sure I buy this story of her being a cousin’s girlfriend or fiancée or whatever the hell she is.
I stand in the hallway awkwardly, feeling as if something weird just happened, like he didn’t want her to see me here.
“Um, I’m sorry. I woke up and heard voices . . .”
“It’s fine; forget it. I was trying to let you rest. Feeling better?”
I step farther into the kitchen and look around. “Groggy. Is it tomorrow? Did I sleep all night?”
He nods and goes to the fridge, taking out a glass carafe of orange juice. “You did. OJ?”
“Yes . . . thank you.”
He pours the juice into a small glass and hands it to me, our fingers touching. I catch his eyes traveling down to my chest.
“You look good in my shirt.” He raises his eyebrows at me.
I’m sure I blush a thousand shades of red. I can’t believe I stood here with my nipples visible in front of his friend.
“You ripped my shirt. And my bra. I took this out of your dresser. I hope that’s okay.”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and pulls me closer to him. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
Being so close to him again quickens my pulse. I’ve never had a one-night stand before, I have no idea if that’s what this is, or how I’m supposed to act now. On television, the girl usually goes home the next day and they never speak again.
Slut. You fucked someone you met at your husband’s grave.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ignore the voices. They never seem to stop.
When I open my eyes again, I see that he’s watching me intently, as if he’s trying to read my mind.
“No, I don’t need a new shirt. Thank you though. I should go. Can you take me back to my car?” That’s still at the cemetery.
He lets out a deep breath. “I was thinking . . . I’m staying here for a month. Kinda like a mental vacation or something.” He slowly brushes his hand down my arm and grabs onto my hand. “Why don’t you stay with me? You kinda look like you could use a vacation, too.”
I must have heard him incorrectly. There is no way this total stranger just asked me to spend a month with him.
“Excuse me?”
“I think you need it. I’ve seen you in the cemetery before. I watched you.”
I pull away from him quickly, as if he’s on fire. “What? Why? Are you sick? You don’t watch people in a cemetery. It’s a sacred place. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He doesn’t even flinch or defend himself. He just answers me calmly. “Because watching you made me feel.”
“What the hell could watching a woman cry at her husband’s grave possibly make you feel?”
He stares me right in the eye. “A lot of things, actually. But envy, mostly.”
“Envy?” I repeat incredulously. “Of what?”
“Meaning that much to someone.”
The raw honesty of his answer is so unexpected. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him. “I really don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry.”
“I lost someone, too,” he says, looking down at the floor. “I meant what I said yesterday.” He looks back up and meets my eyes. His eyes are dark and full of so much pain, and I wonder if mine look the same way. Is that what people see when they look at me? “I can help you forget,” he continues. “To help the pain go away. And you can help me, too.”
“How?”
“Stay here with me. Give yourself to me—to us—for a month. Let go of everything. Trust me, it will set you free of all this crap you’re feeling. It will help both of us. It’ll just be you and me. No one and nothing else. Let me take care of everything.”
I back away from him, trying to understand what exactly he’s saying. “I don’t understand . . . give myself to you? What does that even mean?”
He closes the space between us, taking my hands in his again, which is oddly comforting to me. “Sometimes it’s better if you don’t understand it, and just let yourself feel it as it’s happening. Just let go; don’t think about it. I won’t hurt you. I promise I’ll take care of you, and I’ll take it all the fuck away.”
I shake under the intensity of his stare, and his words that could mean a myriad of things. Scary things that happen in the dark. I’ve read about this sort of thing in romance books, and remember thinking it was sorta scary but also sensually exciting. “Will it be . . . sexual?” My voice tr
embles and I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Yes, some of it. Sometimes I may gently tie you up, so you can’t touch me, and you’re at my mercy to touch, to make you feel, and all you can do is just lie there and enjoy it.” His eyes take on a spark as he describes what he wants. “Or I may command you to touch me because sometimes it feels good to be told what to do, and it feels good for me to have someone listen to what I want and do it. But it’s much more than that. It’s not just about sex. It’s much deeper than that. Much, much deeper.”
“And at the end of the month? Then what?”
“You’ll be stronger, and I will be, too. We’ll have a bond. Other than that, we’ll have to see. Neither one of us is in any frame of mind to think that far ahead.”
This isn’t what I was expecting.
I can go back home to the empty house, the loneliness, the overwhelming responsibility of everything, or I can stay here with this mysterious, fascinating stranger and let him do whatever it is he wants to do that he thinks will help me. Nothing can get worse. I’ve already reached rock bottom with losing my husband, quitting my job, bills piling up, and contemplating suicide daily. Nothing matters to me anymore. This guy could murder me right now and I don’t think I would even care. Or he could fuck me again and make my mind sear into a hot frenzy, as he did last night, and make me forget everything for a little while with his insane body, electrifying touch, and soothing voice. Plus he has a stash of Valium somewhere in this house, which I can use to implement my Plan B of going to sleep forever if this doesn’t go well. It’s a win win.
“All right. I’ll stay.”
Heat flashes in his eyes and he kisses my lips possessively, squeezing my hands tight in his, not letting go.
I return his kisses with equal fervor. Something about him has rattled me. Denying him anything seems like it would be impossible, and I’m just too exhausted mentally and physically to question it or him. If he wants to take care of me and take me on some erotic emotional ride, why the hell not? If it changes my life, great. If I get what I want, even better. If it doesn’t go well, then at least I experienced something different and daring, and didn’t take the safe way out.