Blazed Trilogy

by Corri Lee

  “You know...” Blaze took the mug from my hand and lifted me up onto the breakfast bar next to the tablet, which quietly piped out Panic! At The Disco, one of my favourite bands. “... You’re much more amenable when you’re freshly fucked. I do think of you beyond your erogenous zones, and the only time I get a sense of you feeling the same is when you’re lulled into a post-coital stupor.” He sounded affronted, even if his face didn’t show it. “I get it, I do. You don’t want to let your guard down for something hopeless, but please don’t wound me by pretending you’re bullet-proof. You’ve got me by the balls here.”

  His honesty still shocked me sometimes. I’d overheard enough conversations by scorned women to be led to believe that men sugar-coated their feelings or kept them completely locked away. A great source of frustration to womankind, I thought. I appeared to have the entirely too forthcoming exception to the rule standing in my flat.

  “I can has guilt trip?”

  He mirrored my pout. “I don’t want to make you feel bad, I just don’t want to throw myself into something imbalanced. I don’t know that I’m not chasing a mirage if you keep hiding behind innuendo and bravado. Sometimes it’s just not practical to bend you over and prod the truth out of you.”

  I still felt guilty. I’d been trying to run from my feelings for so long that I just didn’t know how to express them anymore, and I certainly didn’t want to muddy the waters with them. What we had was so simple, or at least it had been at first. We were both in way over our heads now, dangerously close to the point of no return, and maybe I did have to seriously consider playing my part in these far too frequent discussions about ‘us’.

  There was an ‘us’, I couldn’t deny it. I just still didn’t know how to deal with the fact someone had pushed their way into and warped the Hunter shaped hole in my heart. Some parts had bowed, forced to move around Blaze, but there were still some gaps around the edges that made the fit imperfect. I didn’t know that the round peg in a square hole would ever be a good substitute for what I’d spent nine years wanting, but if a miracle happened and Hunter returned from Japan with his arms spread wide for me, I didn’t think he’d be enough either anymore.

  I was in limbo and, paradoxically, the only way I could live through it was to shield my emotions with a subject change.

  “Is ‘she’ still ill?” I rolled my eyes and swung my feet impatiently side to side. I hated that he’d given her a gender so the irrational part of me had ammunition to be childish and possessive. He’s spending all week with another woman...

  Blaze stooped to look up into my downcast eyes and grinned, seeing my rogue thoughts the way only he could. Somehow, he looked almost happy to see my naughty little green eyed monster. “Why, Miss White, are you jealous that there’s another woman in my life?” It was typical that the one man in the world who didn’t freak out over a possessive woman would be the man I didn’t truly possess.

  “No...” I knew that mine was the only world Blaze was rocking, but I couldn’t say the same. I had no right to be jealous, and was determined to pretend that I wasn’t for the sake of not being a hypocrite. “Is she okay without you?”

  He nodded and pushed away from me, making a beeline to the coffee table for my glasses. “I usually have back-up at the weekends. Last week was an annoying exception.”

  I followed, hot on his heels. I couldn’t stay away from him too long—always had to be close enough to touch him. He was addictive, and so potent it scared me. “So Saturday is Emmyday?”

  “You want a whole day, cupcake?” A whole day? A light at the end of the week and an excuse to wheedle out of work early? The best part of a weekend to enjoy the hell out of him? A guarantee that he’d be there on the Double Booked threshold ready to make me centre of his universe, even if just for an evening?

  “... Yes, please. Weekly.”

  I didn’t know how he’d take the request, but was relieved when he smiled and sank down on the couch, patting the seat next to him for me to join him. “And what would we do with said days?”

  “Depends how long it takes you to recharge...”

  He tried on my glasses and recoiled back immediately, blinking like a light had been shone in his eyes. It was a reaction I was used to seeing, but somehow it warmed my heart when it came from him. He made every expression look gorgeous, doubly so when so devoid of clothing.

  “So you’re like, blind.” Blaze slid the glasses onto my face and the hangover type pounding in my head began to subside. Far from blind, I often forgot how much I needed them when I could still see capably without them. Okay, I couldn’t see the details of faces or read, but I wasn’t exactly walking into furniture. “You don’t wear them when you’re at Esme’s.”

  “I don’t want them to get broken.”

  “Buy new ones?”

  I sighed, head dropping back. “Truly spoken like a man with perfect vision. For something so necessary, they’re really quite expensive. My lenses are complex, so they take days to be ordered in, and glasses are like work boots. It’s not as simple as putting on the first pair you find. They might not suit and they’re not comfortable right away. You have to wear them in because they’ll be too tight, too loose, some lenses put the ground at a funny angle—”

  “Okay, okay!”

  My point made, I twisted around onto my knees and combed my fingers into his messy hair. “I don’t get to see you clearly so often. It’s an education.”

  “Oh really, how do I look?” He donned his full-voltage male model face and posed.

  “You look...” Even covered in scratches, he took my breath away. He wore sex hair well; it darkened when it was grimy and brightened those startling green irises that saw right through all my brave fronts. The small scar on his Cupid’s bow had become less of a flaw and more of an invitation, a mark to kiss, lip and suck on. It drove him wild when I targeted it. “... Edible. Did you come here today to offer yourself as my meal?”

  “Hmm, no... I came to see if you could help me with this here quandary I have. I don’t suppose you know any dysfunctional, hot, brunette bookshop assistants with a brand new wardrobe who’d like to get into Monday’s Miracle’s secret gig tonight?”

  I leaned back, eyes narrowed. “Don’t toy with my emotions, Blaze. I’m a fragile woman.”

  It was mean of him to taunt me with such things. Esme and I had been keeping our ears to the ground for weeks, waiting for hints at locations and who she could charm into finding us tickets. Blaze had watched us, denying any connection to the event despite being an ex-member of the band. Dirty little liar.

  “It’s at The Roses.” It figured that it would be at one of Henry’s clubs, though luckily one he didn’t frequent. “Super small, super exclusive. Up close and personal with the band. What do you say?” Like he had to ask.

  “If it’s a super gig...”

  “No capes.” I grinned, pleased to have him on my wavelength. The excitement made me squirm—thoughts of breaking my usual cycle of drinking at Esme’s to do something so outlandish dizzied me with childlike anticipation. Just me and Blaze, dancing and screaming along to heavy rock, right up in the action with the promise of schmoozing with some rockstars. It was a point of my life I’d remember forever, looking back at the photographs when I felt low and lonely without him. Something so special...

  “... Is this a date?”

  He blinked slowly and exhaled on a hum, giving no answer in his expression. “How would you ever know if you’ve never been on one? Call it an awakening. I’ve seen a lot of your life in the past couple of weeks, Emmeline. Now I want you to see what my world is like, beyond the day job, auditions and boring go-sees.”

  Auditions and go-sees. Jesus, I was really sleeping with a male model, actor and musician. If only I could see the faces of the girls who’d bullied me in school now when they opened their magazines to see me staring up at them, standing next to easily the most wanted man in London. Funny, how I didn’t see myself deserving of anyone’s envy until it i
nvolved a man. I’d nearly always been rich and part of a notorious family, but that didn’t seem like a matter to be boasted in my mind. Being Blaze’s, even if I wasn’t really his at all, made me feel important. Special. Like the only person in the world.

  “I would hug you but I have this annoying monkey with intimacy issues on my back.”

  “You said I looked edible...”

  Someone hammered at the door, but I was already straddling Blaze, moaning into his mouth as his tongue stroked mine. In nothing but a t-shirt, all he had to do was pull his underwear down and we could be fucking like minks in seconds. He was hard already, switched on by my grinding against him.

  “Ignore it.” I mumbled when the door knocked again, pumping restlessly against his teasing hand, so turned on and in the moment that it wouldn’t have taken much to push me over the edge. He held me up and watched his first hard inch push into me, growling so gutturally it undid me.

  My orgasm hit the same minute the visitor called out. “Emmy, love? I know you’re in there!”

  “Shit!” I stared down with amused horror at Blaze, steadying myself on his shoulders. “It’s my mother. She has a key.”

  “Emmeline Elizabeth, open this door!”

  “Coming, Mum!” Blaze wiggled beneath me, hitting a sweet spot that damn near brought literal meaning to my answering shout. “You have to hide in the bedroom. Like, now.”

  He pouted and slowly eased out of me, still rock hard. “Just let me meet her.”

  “No! Even if you weren’t only in your underwear...” Ivy Tudor had the unmistakable face of an angel and an encyclopaedic knowledge of current events and celebrity hearsay. Blaze had his equally as seraphic face plastered everywhere. There was no conceivable way they wouldn’t recognise each other. I shuddered at the thought and pointed sternly at the bedroom door. “Go, you fiend!”

  “You’ll need these.” Quickly, he yanked down his briefs and hooked my feet through them, pulling them up to cover my wet, less than modest modesty, then set on a leisurely pace towards the bedroom, gloriously naked. Watching him walk away was still almost as good as watching him walk towards me, more so when I now knew what lay beyond the clothes, a thought that made me squirm.

  “Emmy!” The door opened before I could get to it and just as the bedroom door closed on Blaze’s fabulous backside. I smiled up guiltily from the couch with my eyes still a little starry, pulling the t-shirt down over the borrowed briefs. My mother stood just inside the door, innocently oblivious to what she’d walked into.

  She was a breath of fresh air in a lilac wrap dress that brought out the green in her eyes, but clashed horribly with her car. Her greying blonde hair fell loosely into a chignon and framed a dainty nose, sculpted cheekbones, and naturally full red lips that sheathed a killer smile.

  She was a trophy bride all right—a real English rose who didn’t have any thorns until she married them. And I hadn’t seen her for the longest time.

  “Mum! You look great.” If she was a vision of how I’d look in twenty years, I was eager to age.

  “I wish I could say the same, darling. You look dreadful.” I nodded, knowing that I couldn’t rationally find insult in what she said. My hair was still matted and fuck-mussed, eyeliner smudged and the bite mark Blaze had left in the tender flesh of my neck was starting to bruise. But no matter how obvious it looked to me that I’d been up to no good, Ivy Tudor saw the good in anyone and could deny the bad existed. “One of your neighbours called your father with a noise complaint. I was around, and thought you’d prefer me to come and scold you for being a vixen.” Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous yet reverent glint. These were the times she liked to leach vicariously from, having led a relatively unremarkable life in the bedroom department. I didn’t want to know the details, but I knew that there had only been one man other than Henry between her sheets and he’d been something of a wet squib.

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea I’d been so... vocal.”

  “By all accounts it was the fellow, love.” She sounded disturbingly proud. “I think that was what caused the concern. Old Mrs. Adams upstairs thought you were beating him senseless.”

  “Well, then.” I coughed and pulled the neck of the t-shirt up over my nose to hide my grin. The idea of Blaze being so lost in the pleasure he found in me was endearing, and I had the driving urge to make him do it again so I could hear it—hear him moan my name while I rode him. It was the times like that I knew I had him all to myself.

  Ivy wandered through to the kitchen, pausing once or twice at various objects of my scattered clothing. “You bought yourself a tablet?”

  “Ah... no, it’s a friends. I’m borrowing it?” The music ceased, leaving a weighty silence between us. There was more to this visit than a noise complaint and I knew it.

  “Are you all right, love?” Frowning, I looked over my shoulder into the kitchen area of my open plan flat. “Hunter says you’ve been ignoring his emails.” I blinked, at a loss for words. My email account had been untouched for weeks because the thought simply hadn’t crossed my mind, but how dare he run off telling tales to my mother? I was a grown woman with my own life, a life he’d walked out of. “You know he thinks the worst when he doesn’t hear from you.”

  “He could have called.” I raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to disagree. “I’m all right, Mum. I’m the best I’ve been in a while.” Though a little worse now for hearing the ‘H’ word.

  “You do seem different. There’s more colour in your cheeks.” There was no way I was going to tell her that the rosiness might be due to the fact I’d been having sex just seconds before she walked in. Less way I’d tell her what was making me feel so exuberant beyond my bedroom. “You’re still wearing awful clothes, though. Come on, I’m taking you shopping. No arguments.”

  I leapt to my feet when she headed towards my bedroom door. “No, you can’t go in there!” She ignored me and made a grab for the handle. “Seriously, Mother. Please don’t go in there.”

  She scowled at me, one hand on her hip, and paused with her other hand ready to lunge. “Why not?” I immediately thought of the bloodied sheets and balked. Even if Blaze found a place to hide, the state of that bed might give her a coronary.

  “It’s a mess in there.” A nervous giggle escaped my throat. “You don’t want to see that.”

  But, because she was my mother, she knew I was hiding something. “Please don’t lie to me, Emmy. I know your ways. Tell me what mess you made.”

  My eyes widened and I was vaguely aware of shaking my head. I knew which ‘ways’ she meant, the conclusion she’d jumped to. She’d jump on it harder when she saw the blood. My recycled excuses for secrecy stoked her concern but I hadn’t even realised that I was using them again now.

  “It’s not like that this time.” She sighed, looking me up and down before she made the move I’d been scared of, shoving the door open before my body had time to catch up with my brain.

  The brain stopped stock-still at the sight of the bedroom. The bed was freshly made, the torn up sheets hidden by the duvet, and Blaze’s personal effects were scattered around the room. Fresh underwear and a change of clothes for him were folded up on the ottoman spanning the bottom of the bedstead, next to a pile he’d apparently laid out for me with clean towels for a shower. My small, practically antique stereo system played the same music he’d been listening to in the kitchen, and he could be heard singing along from the shower in the en-suite.

  He’d done this on purpose, though I had no idea why or how he’d done it so quickly.

  Ivy stared at me, stunned into silence.

  “I told you it wasn’t like that this time.”

  “You did.” She swallowed hard, blinking too fast. “Sorry, love. I just... Is he handsome?” I nodded with a shy smile. She might find out for herself some day just how handsome, but on that day, I was happy enough just to give her the reassurance. “Does he look after you?”

  “He does. He took me clothes shopping. He takes me to
dinner.” Stepping back out into the lounge area, I urged her with me and fiddled with the hem of the t-shirt. “Let’s have lunch tomorrow. I’ll explain everything then.”

  “You don’t need to explain anything, Emmeline. Just tell me that you’re happy.”

  It was that cut and dry for my mother and I loved her for it. I could have been sleeping with an ex-con and she wouldn’t have cared as long as he told me I was pretty and paid for my lunch. Love was paramount and almighty as far as she was concerned, believing that everyone should be paired off with their soul mate.

  She swore that Hunter was her fault, an oversight. She’d tried to pair us up too young when our personalities weren’t done developing. By her reckoning, he was marrying his match, despite us being compatible. My other half was out there and she promised that she’d know him when she saw him.

  Secretly, this was another reason for keeping her away from Blaze. I was scared she’d tell me that the man who was destined to be with me was the man I couldn’t have. I’d be building a miserable rod for my own back.

  “I’m happy, Mum. Happy and terrified.”

  “Then lunch it is. ‘To fear love is to fear life’. We’ll have you chomping at the bit in no time.”

  I purred happily, stretching my sleepy, well-used body out across the king-size mattress, coming to rest with my head nuzzling the pillow that was once again wrapped up in Blaze’s t-shirt. I’d owed him an orgasm and he’d made damn sure that he’d claimed it the minute my mother had walked out of the door. The skill and technique I’d grown accustomed to had returned, buckling me into a fairground rollercoaster I couldn’t get enough of.

  Blaze had been created with a vendetta to literally fuck me stupid. I could think of no logical reason for my surrendering to our difficult romance without a fight that didn’t involve him at some point scrambling a few of my brain cells. Like it or not, I was bloody besotted and it was entirely his fault.