by Nicola Haken
“So… he’s supposed to be dead right?” Emily said with a contemplative look on her face. “So he’s obviously running from something too. Which also means I doubt he’d want the police involved either.” She continued.
“Meaning?” I interrupted a little more offhand than intended.
“Meaning, he’ll know if he brings you down he’ll be going down with you. If we can work out what he’s hiding then both parties have leverage. Then we can either compromise, or wait and see who’s prepared to take it furthest.”
“I won’t compromise with that man. Ever,” I retorted.
“She’s got a point, honey,” Aunt Sarah interrupted. “At the moment, I don’t think we have another choice than to sit it out and wait and see what he’s proposing. If we can try and find out why he’s supposed to be dead in the meantime? Well, that can’t do any harm and might indeed help us get rid of him. It’s worth a shot, Dex.”
“For fuck’s sake, have you heard yourselves?” I roared, huffing a sarcastic laugh. “This isn’t an episode of fuckin’ Columbo! Next you’ll be askin’ me to wear a long brown overcoat and freakin’ sunglasses!” And before you start, yes I know Columbo didn’t wear fucking sunglasses. I was pissed and not paying particular attention to the dress-sense of one of TV’s most iconic detectives.
“Dexter, please…” Emily begged. “Calm down.”
“I can’t fuckin’ calm down!” I yelled, the words cutting into my throat like razor blades. “I’ve gotta get out of here,” I announced, ripping through my hair with my fingers and turning for the door.
“Dexter, please!” Emily sobbed. “You promised you wouldn’t do this!” I heard her but selfishly I refused to listen. “Dexter!” she screamed, but I was so far down the street by then her voice was nothing more than a strained whisper.
It was less than a minute later when I strolled ashamedly back into the house. I’d just done the one thing I’d promised Emily not to do again. I ran.
“I’m sorry,” I said ruefully, closing the door behind me. Emily clasped a hand to her chest and, looking relieved, she ran over to me.
“You came back,” she whispered against my chest. Enfolding her in my arms I kissed her fiery hair before muttering a pathetic apology.
“I shouldn’t have gone in the first place. I promised you. I’m so sorry, doll.”
“But you came back,” she repeated, nuzzling my shirt.
“I um, I just need a minute,” I declared softly in Emily’s ear. She looked up at me with doleful eyes which silently begged me to stay with her. “Hey, I’ll just be upstairs, doll. Need to clear my head that’s all,” I assured, promising her with my intense gaze. “I’m not running. I promise.”
There’s a loose tile in the corner of the bathroom, hidden by the fluffy pink mat Aunt Sarah picked up at a travelling market a few years back. After peeling back the mat I gently teased the edge of the tile up and tucked my fingers beneath it, plucking out the little clear baggie buried underneath. The cistern was no good anymore – that’d be the first place Aunt Sarah would look if she ever got suspicious.
Not that she will this time, because I’m in complete control. I just need a little – hardly any really – to get me through what’s turning out to be a rough few weeks. It’s the only thing that I know will calm me down enough to stop me running. I’ve promised Emily, and I’m gonna try so freakin’ hard to keep that promise.
Placing my foot in front of the door to prevent it being opened (the lock’s been bust for forever), I carefully tipped a little (seriously, hardly any at all) blow onto the marble counter underneath the tarnished mirrored cabinets before teasing it into a neat line with a credit card from my wallet. I didn’t have any bills on me so I had to bend right down, pressing my nostril against the cool marble and then snorting it from bottom to top and then back again to make sure I’d got it all.
Rubbing at my nose to calm the slight sting, I instantly felt calmer. Not buzzed, or hyper – just… calm. You see? That’s why I only need a little. I’m not doing it to get off my face or forget all my problems - I’m just using it to help me keep on top of my emotions until all this shit’s blown over. That’s what’s different this time. That’s why I’m in control.
Feeling relaxed enough to face the people I love most in the world downstairs, I tucked the half-empty baggie back under the tile, wiped down the counter with a wet hand-towel and splashed some reviving water over my face before patting it dry. When I approached the last few steps of the stairs I could hear jumbled whispers coming from the living room. I couldn’t hear what was being said but it didn’t take a genius to know they were discussing me.
“Dexter?” Aunt Sarah asked carefully, appearing in the doorway when I reached the last step. “Are you alright?”
It’s weird how when you think the iron-ball of guilt tied around your neck can’t get any heavier… somehow it always manages to. My father’s visit had affected everyone in this room, but I was the only one selfish enough to want to run away. Yet here were these two amazing women, needing to make sure I was okay.
“This isn’t about me,” I answered. “This house is yours, sweet cheeks. I won’t let him take it from you. I swear I won’t.” My determination was back with a vengeance and in that moment I knew I was strong enough to defeat him this time – even if I wasn’t quite sure how just yet.
“This isn’t just your fight, honey. We’re in this together,” Aunt Sarah replied with a concerned look clouding her face. “I don’t want you taking on too much.”
“I’m not gonna break. You need to quit worrying about me.”
“Dex,” she mollified. “I will worry about you until the day I draw my last breath. You’re like a son to me. You know that.” Just then, that wretched guilt suspended from my neck weighed me down a tiny bit further. I’m gonna be flat on my face in no time if that keeps up.
“What’s that smell?” I quizzed, sniffing exaggeratedly towards the kitchen, trying to steer the conversation in a different – less uncomfortable - direction.
“That’s dinner,” Emily beamed with a proud grin. “I’m making shepherd’s pie.”
“Smells great huh?” Aunt Sarah beamed. I’d never tasted shepherd’s pie but I’d heard a lot about it since moving to the UK.
“Sure does. I didn’t know you could cook?”
“I’m a woman of many talents,” Emily replied impishly.
“That you are, doll,” I agreed with a wicked wink.
“Ugh. If you two are going to start gushing over each other I’m going upstairs. It’s been a heck of a day. I think I’ll lie down for a while. Shout if you need me,” Aunt Sarah said with an overstated eye-roll before turning towards the stairs. Emily giggled but amazingly didn’t blush. Then I held my arms out for her and sighed contentedly when she fell willingly into them.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, doll,” I whispered into her soft, red hair.
“Good job you’ll never have to find out.”
We stayed that way, embraced in each other’s arms and swaying peacefully from side-to-side for a good ten minutes or so. But then my stomach growled, interrupting the stillness.
“Time to get back in the kitchen, wench,” I teased, slapping her on the ass and forcing a delightfully carefree squeal to erupt from her throat. “Your man needs his supper.”
Walking backwards into the kitchen, purposely denying my palm access to her behind, she saluted me playfully.
“Yes, sir!”
Chapter Two
~Emily~
It was Christmas Eve and we hadn’t heard from Dexter’s father again. Though I don’t think any of us were naïve enough to believe it would stay that way. Still, together we made a vow to enjoy the three days of Christmas and refuse to so much as think of him throughout. We all agreed, yet sometimes I found the image of his face popping unwillingly into my mind as I pondered what the future was going to bring.
“Tired, doll?” Dexter asked, twirling a lock of m
y hair around his finger as I lay across his lap. It was almost midnight and I couldn’t stop yawning.
“Mmhmm,” was all I could muster.
“Well don’t you dare go to sleep,” Sarah ordered teasingly. I shook my head weakly, blinking repeatedly to stop my eyes from closing – because I knew if they did, they wouldn’t open again.
During her first Christmas as Dexter’s full-time guardian, Sarah set up a tradition where they had to pull a cracker and make a wish bang on midnight Christmas Eve. Apparently it was something her own family used to do when she and Deborah, Dexter’s mum, were little girls. That is why I was forcing myself to stay awake, despite my eyelids feeling like they were made from lead-weights.
“Why’d you move to England?” I asked through a yawn. “Why not just move states?” It was a question I’d thought about before and now seemed like the perfect time to bring it up, if for no other reason than talking about it would keep me awake.
“You wishin’ I hadn’t?” Dexter teased, feigning a hurt expression.
“You know I don’t. It’s just so far away… so far from Sarah.”
“Downton Abbey.”
“Eh?”
“I’d been thinking of leaving for a while. Then Downton Abbey was playing in the background one night,” he paused and cocked his head towards Sarah, “she loves that shit.”
“Um, anything with Dan Stevens in it is not shit,” Sarah interrupted with a firm scowl.
“Oh please, sweet cheeks… you’re old enough to be his mom. Anyway, I thought ‘England – why not?’ Then I remembered my mom telling me stories about the Queen when I was a boy. After tucking the blankets up under my chin at night she would sit on the end of the bed. She would tell me about this country we would visit one day where there were palaces, princes and princesses and a giant clock…
I started arranging study permits and looking into flights the very next morning. I’d made my decision and I stuck to it. It was the best decision I ever made,” he said, never taking his eyes off mine. Funny how my eyes had forgotten how tired they were all of a sudden. Too busy being captivated by Dexter’s love-filled gaze, they didn’t want to close anymore.
“Ten… nine… eight…” Sarah began counting down along with the second hand on the pendulum clock above the TV. Dexter and I joined in and when the hand struck midnight we all shouted out in unison…
“Merry Christmas!”
Picking up our crackers, Dexter and I went first before Dexter went again with Sarah. Obviously our wishes had to remain a secret but I’m guessing we all wished for the same thing – for Martin Michaels to leave us the hell alone.
“Aww, you got a pen!” I whined as I eyed up Dexter’s cracker prize. I got a screwdriver so small only a Barbie doll could put it to use.
“You jealous, doll?”
“Yeah! A pen is useful… what the hell am I supposed to do with this?” I complained jokingly, waving my mini screwdriver in the air.
“Merry Christmas, doll,” Dexter said, placing his pen in my hand and closing my fingers around it. I couldn’t help the delighted smile that crawled across my face. “What’d you get, sweet cheeks?” I adored how he called his Aunt ‘sweet cheeks’ – with pure adoration dripping from his gentle voice. Apparently she used to call him that when he was a boy. It seems unbelievable now that not so long ago I thought he might be cheating on me when I heard him say that to someone down the phone.
“A tiny deck of cards,” Sarah answered, unpicking the cellophane encompassing the little cardboard box with her fingernail. “Wanna play poker?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I admitted, my words almost getting swallowed by the gigantic yawn I produced.
“That’s a crime,” Dexter said. “Everyone should know how to play poker. We’ll teach you tomorrow. After lunch,” he added. I bit my bottom lip, feeling quite sure his attempts would be futile. I remember Chris trying to teach me with a couple of friends years ago. The whole concept was lost on me then, and I can only presume it will be the same tomorrow. “But now – bed.”
Thank the lord…
“Good idea,” Sarah joined in. “I’ll have to be up early to get that turkey in the oven.” She got up wearily from the couch before bending down to me, then Dexter and kissing us on top of our heads. “Goodnight, kids,” she said warmly, turning for the stairs.
“Night, Sarah.”
“G’night, sweet cheeks.”
Dexter and I were showered and in bed just twenty minutes later. Even though we’d towelled ourselves dry our skin was still a little damp and I giggled when I tried to move my head off his chest and I stuck to him.
“I won’t miss this bed when we leave,” Dexter grumbled, shifting his position slightly in an effort to get comfortable. It was a little on the hard side, with more lumps and bumps than a gravelled pathway. This was the guest room so Dexter hadn’t slept in here before we got here.
“We should try your old room tomorrow,” I suggested.
“There’s only a single bed in there, doll. You know that.”
“Well maybe,” I began, trailing my fingertip along his broad chest and smiling suggestively, “I’ll just have to lie on top of you.”
“Like this?” Dexter teased, grinning wickedly as he pushed me onto my back and rolled himself on top of me.
“Just like that,” I breathed, my words a quaking whisper as I tried to anticipate his next move. Dexter ran his tongue across my lips but as I parted them to let him in, he lowered his head to my neck and inhaled deeply.
“You smell fucking delicious, doll.” He kissed and licked along the throbbing vein in my neck, gradually inching downwards until his face was nuzzling the dip between my breasts.
With one hand caressing my collarbone as his tongue played with my now-hard nipple, his other wandered down the side of my body, tickling my waist as he made his way down to the spot that was aching so badly for his touch. When his fingers glided torturously slowly along the damp folds I almost catapulted from the bed. I wanted him so painfully desperately.
And he knew it.
“Please, Dexter,” I whimpered, arching my hips to meet his skilled fingers.
“Please what, doll?” he murmured into my breasts.
“You know what,” I breathed – the frustration becoming agonising. “I need you.”
“You need me to what?” he taunted further. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”
His hot, moist tongue swept across my chest before paying some attention to my other nipple. I chewed on my bottom lip to stop me from moaning too loudly while I continued to grind myself against his slick fingers. Without warning he thrust one inside me and I cried out in both unexpected pleasure, and also pain from biting my lip too firmly.
“Please…” I mouthed. “Oh god, please…”
“Say it, doll,” he growled against my aching breasts. “Tell me what you want from me,” he demanded. Swallowing forcefully before licking my dry lips, I reached down and took his face in my hands – raising his head so I could look into his denim-blue eyes.
“I want you inside me, Dexter. I need you to make love to me. Please…” I begged. His eyes beamed brighter as he grinned devilishly at me and my insides quivered at the knowledge he was going to give me what I wanted.
Shifting his position so his raging erection was nudging at my eager entrance, with those tickling metal rings tormenting me and making me writhe, he propped himself up on one elbow while he kneaded my breasts with his free hand. Then he slipped inside me slowly… teasingly… perfectly.
“See?” he groaned softly. “You only had to ask.”
Closing my eyes, I lost myself in the sensation. My hips instinctively rocked against his while my fingers clawed at the defined muscles hugging his shoulder blades. He burrowed his face in my neck and nibbled and licked along the sensitive flesh as he continued to slide into me deliciously slowly. Then, when I wrapped my legs around his waist he let out a throaty groan aga
inst my ear which vibrated throughout my entire body and sent an invigorating warmth charging through my veins.
“Look at me, doll,” Dexter ordered gently. Peeling my eyes open, his nose was against mine. Still propped above me on one elbow he tucked one hand behind my head and pulled my lips to meet his. My fingers found their way into his shaggy brown hair, still damp from his shower, and tugged roughly at the smooth strands.
His tongue teased the edges of my lips, silently begging for permission to explore, and this time when my lips parted he didn’t pull away. Instead he dipped his hungry tongue inside, entwining it with mine as he licked and tasted every corner of my mouth. His closeness stifled my moans as he started working faster and harder inside me, but then, just as I started to build… just as I began to feel the warning ripples of an intense orgasm… Dexter pulled abruptly out of me, making me gasp.
“Turn over,” he growled through clenched teeth. My heart-rate increased to a trillion miles per hour in anticipation. This was new. Dexter always made me ask for what I wanted. But this time, he was taking over… he was taking what he wanted from me and I was overcome with nervous excitement.
Doing as I was told, I rolled hesitantly over onto my belly.
“Crawl up onto your knees for me, doll.” Swallowing forcefully, I did just that. Then his hands gripped my hips and he pulled my bum into the air, positioning it against his hardness before gliding it back and forth against me but making no attempt to go inside.
“Christ, doll, if you could see what I can see right now…” he trailed off. My first instinct was to feel embarrassed about the view in front of him – seeing me so… exposed and vulnerable. But the more I thought about it, when more ‘mmm’ sounds starting leaking from his throat… I felt nothing but desire. My body trembled as I became desperate to feel him inside me and my fingers clawed at the plump white pillows above my head.
“Oh… god…” I breathed as he continued to stroke me with his erection.