Free of the furniture, I backed away, grabbing the material of my dress at my chest. I kept going until I bumped into something hard and came to an abrupt stop. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. My throat was tight, and I was gasping now.
Jesse strode forward, shoving the plate of food toward his brother.
“What did I say?” Felix asked, accepting it.
“She’s having a panic attack,” Jesse said, staring at me as he came around the back of the couch.
I tried to move away from him as my eyes blurred with tears. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. Terror seized my thoughts.
I’m going to die. I can’t breathe. I’m going to—
And then he was there. Without waiting for permission, he pulled me against him. Strong fingers wound through my tangled hair and held my head against his chest, while his other hand went to my back. The heat from his skin seeped into my damp cheek, and his heart beat strong and steady in my ear.
Without thought, my arms went around him, my fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
“I . . . can’t . . . breathe,” I gasped against his T-shirt, clutching at him like he was a buoy amidst a stormy sea.
“Yes, you can.”
The sensation of drowning was paralyzing.
“I . . . can’t.” My fingernails dug in harder, terror tightening its grip on me. Breathless whimpers came from my throat.
“You can.”
The commanding tone somehow got through to me like nothing else could.
I wasn’t remembering the festival. Or the way it’d felt when I’d seen him touching someone else. I wasn’t remembering what had happened on the steps of my apartment. Or the unrecognizable man he’d been. I was acting blindly. Instinctively. Holding on to the one person who felt safe in that moment. Holding on to what felt like the only thing that could bring me down from the tall, tall tree I’d climbed.
“You will breathe,” he said, as if there was no other option. And I had the feeling he was telling himself as much as me. His hands tightened in my hair, and his breath was hot against my ear as he spoke. “You. Will. Breathe.”
And I did.
13
Cheap Tricks & Open Books
“Will there be anything else?”
Bane closed the menu and handed it back to the blonde waitress, looking at her breasts. He glanced at her face next, noting the way she bit her bottom lip, her eyes locked on his. She would be easy, he thought. This one craved attention the way a junky craved their next fix. He could smell it on her.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in the booth and letting his legs fall open. “There a bathroom in this place?”
She glanced behind her. The only other waitress, an older woman whose name tag read “Lou”, was busy delivering plates of eggs and hash browns to a large table of churchgoers who’d clearly just come from Sunday morning service. Their pastel dresses and pantyhose made his eyes bleed. The blonde turned back, gaze hot with anticipation.
“I can show you,” she said, clicking her pen and slowly sliding it, along with her order pad, back in her apron pocket. “If you want.”
He laughed quietly and got up, staring down at her. “Show me.”
She smiled and obeyed, turning and leading him away from the main dining area and down a hallway. He followed, watching the way her ass jiggled beneath her cotton skirt. It made him forget how much he hated Jesse Linwood. For the moment. When she came to the end, she glanced over her shoulder once more to make sure nobody was watching and started to open the door to the ladies’ room.
“No,” he said, grabbing her by the bicep none too gently and steering her toward the men’s. It was a small thing, to degrade her in that manner, but it made his dick even harder to do it.
She nodded with wide eyes, pushing the door open and quickly ducking inside.
He was right behind her, letting the door swing closed behind them, the noise echoing in the confined space. The fluorescent lighting overhead cast everything, including the lone urinal, in a greenish hue, and the outdated linoleum was peeling around the edges. It smelled of disinfectant and stale mop water. There was a single stall in the back corner that would offer a small amount of privacy. He disregarded it. He didn’t give a shit if someone came in and saw them.
She looked at him expectantly, the pulse at the base of her throat throbbing with the thrill of being bad. “How do you want to do this?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Not bothering to lock the door, he strode toward her without answering, backing her against the wall. He fisted the hair at the nape of her neck and yanked her head back. She gasped in shock and then moaned into his mouth as he crushed their lips and tongues together. Reaching down, he pulled up the hem of her skirt with a growl and shoved his hand directly into the elastic of her panties. Without hesitation, he pushed two fingers into her already slick slit and started pumping.
Her responding groan was almost animal, and she gripped his biceps, nails digging in. Still working her pussy, he released her hair, and she let her head fall back against the stainless-steel paper towel dispenser with a hollow clang, her bottom lip trembling as she let out small, gasping breaths in time with his fingers. Reaching up, he grabbed the lapel of her blue uniform and ripped it wide, revealing her black lace bra. Several buttons bounced onto the floor and rolled away. He yanked down one cup and then the other, popping her tits free. She moaned her approval and jutted them out for his attention, their nipples pale pink in the dim lighting. Bane stared at them a moment, watching them jiggle as he fingered her, and then leaned down and latched on to the right one, sucking it in hard and pushing his face into it. He liked tits. Liked the way their soft plumpness filled his mouth and the way the hard nub of a nipple felt rolling around on his tongue.
“Feels so good,” she breathed, arching her back and pressing more of it between his lips. He opened wider, sucking, wanting it all. She groaned in response, pussy tightening around his fingers. Which was his cue to switch things up. He couldn’t have her coming before he got what he needed.
Pulling his face away, her nipple released from his lips with a wet suction noise, and she whimpered from the sudden lack of contact. He grinned and drew his fingers out of her also, sucking them off deliberately for her to see. Her eyes widened as she watched, and her lips, which were smeared with pink lipstick, parted slightly. As he swallowed, he looked her over. The way she stood there with her blonde hair tangled around her face, breasts bare and heaving, and legs spread, she looked like the cheap whore she was.
He pulled his fingers from his mouth and ordered, “Go to the sink.”
Without questioning, she stepped away from the wall and over to the porcelain sink, turning to face him, her hands gripping the edge behind her. He stalked over and ignored her upturned mouth as she tried to kiss him, instead grabbing her by the hips and spinning her around. He bent her over, holding on to the back of her neck. She gasped, eagerly tossing her hair over her shoulder so she could meet his gaze in the mirror, face flushed with arousal.
“Do it,” she said, red painted nails curling around the lip of the white sink. “Fuck me.”
Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached down and pushed the hem of her skirt the rest of the way up and over her ass. He grinned as she whimpered in anticipation. Giving her what she wanted, he jerked her panties down to her thighs, which trembled against his knuckles. And then he had two fingers in her again, working her hard and slow from behind while he unzipped his jeans and freed himself with his other hand. With the way she was moaning, it wouldn’t surprise him if someone came to investigate. Not that he cared. He’d keep fucking her while they watched.
For a few minutes, he just did her like that, watching as her head fell back and she gasped open-mouthed, her entire body moving back and forth from the slow push and pull of his fingers. Just when she was ready to come, he pulled them out again, enjoying her frustrated whine. She sounded like a
child deprived of her favorite toy.
“What do you want?” he asked, glancing down at the way she flexed her lower back, ready for him to mount her. He wanted to hear her beg for it first.
“I want your cock inside me,” she said around a groan. “Please.”
Holding himself, he rubbed the head in slippery circles over her folds, dipping in slightly where she was hottest and wettest. Teasing. Enjoying her aching, whimpering breaths.
“Did you want him this much?” he asked.
Her forehead creased in confusion. “Who?”
He slapped her ass hard enough to jar his wrist and was rewarded with her cry of pain. “Jesse. The one you were dry-humping at the festival last night.”
“No . . . not this much.”
The next slap was harder than the first, and she lurched forward, wincing. He leaned down. “You sure about that?”
Despite the pain, lust flared in her gaze. “Yes. God yes.”
“Good. Now beg.”
“Please.” Her entire body trembled with need. “I need you in me.”
He complied, digging his fingers into her ass cheeks and spreading her apart. In one brutal drive he shoved inside, balls slapping her thighs. She groaned, long and low, the noise echoing around the small room.
He gave her three more pounds, liking the way her tits bounced in the mirror. And then, with gritted teeth, he stopped, still inside her. He had to fight the urge to fang her neck and show her some real pain, but he refused to drink after Jesse. No goddamned way.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and her unfocused gaze found his in the mirror. “Fuck me,” she moaned, pushing her ass back against him, forcing his dick in deeper.
Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her head back, and leaned into her ear, forcing her to pay attention. She gasped, her helpless position seeming to excite her further.
“Listen to me,” he demanded. “Tell me what you know about Parsley Walker. Has she said or done anything unusual lately? Has she mentioned a boyfriend?”
The name seemed to momentarily distract her from their fucking. “What?” she panted, as if unable to understand the question.
Bane pulled back and then pounded into her once for emphasis, making the sink rattle against the wall. “Tell. Me.”
Her groan was guttural, and she licked her dry lips. “Why do you care—”
Once more he thrust, and the screws securing the sink loosened, a few crumbs of drywall falling to the floor. Her gasp echoed around the room. He still held her hair knotted in his fist, and he tightened his grip.
“You will tell me or I’ll pull out of you right now and leave you in this bathroom wet and unfinished.”
“No,” she gasped, her throat working as she swallowed. “Don’t go. I’ll do it.”
Bane smiled and released her head. It fell forward, as if she were unable to hold it up on her own, her hair dangling in the sink. He rewarded her with a slower, less forceful thrust, and she moaned, rolling her ass back against him.
“That’s a good little slut,” he said, pleased. “Now tell me what you know.”
***
When Par finally drew in a shaky but deep breath, Jesse gave his own inward sigh of relief and closed his eyes. He’d taken control of the situation but only outwardly. The look of pure panic on her face had terrified him. And then shamed him. His sweet girl had fallen apart because of him.
“That’s it,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at his brother and giving him a nod. Felix exhaled and sat down, still holding the plate of food. Jesse turned back to Par. “That’s it. Just breathe.”
Gradually her breaths came easier, and she loosened her nails, which had been digging into his back. He wouldn’t have cared if she’d stuck daggers in him. She was close, and he savored the feeling. It wouldn’t last. This wasn’t forgiveness. This was survival. About finding the one familiar thing in a sea of unfamiliar things. But it didn’t matter. He would do this for her as long as she would let him.
“You’re all right,” he said, breathing in the scent of her hair. Regret threatened to choke him. “You’re all right.”
When her sobs became nothing but damp whimpers against his shirt, he opened his eyes and stared over her head at the wall, jaw stiff as he rode them out. Those small, broken sounds gutted him like nothing else.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, unable to stop himself. “I’m so damn sorry.”
She stiffened, the spell broken, and he ground his teeth, wishing he could take the words back. Clearing his throat, he pulled away.
Her cheeks were flushed and damp, but her eyes were dry as she looked up at him with distrust. Her voice was tremulous. “Get away from me.”
He turned without a word and crossed the room. He had no idea what she would do. What she could do. Her telekinetic display last night had been unexpected to say the least. He’d only known about her telepathic ability. Which meant so had Patrick. An anomaly in itself. What was even more concerning was that she had a second gift period. It was unheard of. And it presented a whole new level of problems. Her desirability had just increased tenfold.
Felix half-rose from his chair and held the plate out, as if coaxing a timid animal, and set it on the table for her to see. “It’s not poisoned,” he said, slowly sitting back down.
She ignored the offering, still staring at Jesse. “Why?” she demanded.
There were so many possible answers to that question. He chose carefully. “I’m trying to save your life.”
Her eyes narrowed. “By kidnapping me?”
“You wouldn’t come,” he said. “It wasn’t sup—”
“Tell me why you think my life needs saving.”
For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. It’d been her nervousness that had drawn him to her in the beginning, like a wild dog to a gentle rabbit. But here, now, she wasn’t the same. It was beautiful and yet it was tragic—the loss of innocence.
He took a deep breath, hating what he was about to say. “Because I work for the one who wants to kill you.”
“Eat you, more specifically,” Felix added from around his Montecristo cigar.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What are you saying?”
Sensing Jesse’s reluctance, Felix spoke up. “You have to understand it’s what he’s been trained to do. Made to do. For a hell of a long time.”
She didn’t acknowledge Felix, her brimming eyes still focused on Jesse. So much for Felix smoothing the way with his charm. “So it was never real? It was all part of some plan?” she demanded.
The doubt in her voice was like a vise around his heart.
“Not all,” he said. “At first maybe, but not after.”
“At first maybe,” she repeated.
“Yes.” He sighed, raking both hands through his hair. “But only at first.”
She grew quiet then and stared at him. She was trying to listen to his mind. To separate the truth from the lies. And he wanted her to. Lifting the wall he’d been trained to keep in place around people like her, he met her gaze and let her in.
Her eyes widened and she stumbled, as if she’d been pushing on a stuck door that’d just fallen open.
Patrick wanted you. He sent me to get you, he thought directly at her. Just as he’s sent me to get others. This time was different. You were different. I couldn’t.
She regarded him warily. “You’ve kidnapped other girls?”
Felix leaned forward in his chair beside them, absorbed.
Yes. And men.
“Why?” she asked, horrified.
He hated the way she was looking at him. Because Patrick told me to. Because I couldn’t say no, even if I’d wanted to.
“Did you?” she asked. “Want to say no?”
He stared at her a moment, knowing he couldn’t lie and wishing he could.
No.
She shook her head, and he feared she might try to run.
I
was under a spell, he thought. I had no choice.
This got her attention. She frowned. “A spell?”
He felt Felix’s curious gaze, but he ignored him.
In a sense. It’s hard to explain. Patrick can do things to your mind. Make you believe things or act in ways that you wouldn’t normally.
She stared at him a moment, searching his mind. “Who is Patrick?”
He made me what I am. I’ve always hated him, but I did what he asked because I felt nothing. Because that’s the way he wanted me to feel.
“Until now,” she said quietly.
He met her eyes. Everything’s different with you.
“Why?” Her bottom lip trembled.
Everything hurts, he thought, forcing himself to not look away. It’s all real now. Everything I’ve done. How good you are. How bad I am. It’s loud and it’s bright and it hurts so fucking bad.
She let out a choked sob and brought her fingers to her mouth. But once he got started, he couldn’t stop. A dam had broken.
“I was confused,” he said, watching her flinch when he spoke aloud. “I knew what I’d come to do, but for the first time, I didn’t want to.”
“Why?” she whispered again, shoulders shaking.
“Because you made me . . .” He trailed off and closed his eyes, searching for the right word. “Happy.”
“So you really wanted to be with me.”
“Fuck yes,” he said, taking a step forward. He was trembling too. She might never forgive him for the things he’d done, but he needed her to believe that he’d never been happier than when he was with her.
She walked toward him, hesitant, hands fisted at the sides of her wrinkled dress. Her hair glinted copper beneath the recessed lighting as she stopped in front of him. And for a moment she looked like the girl from the diner. Shy and uncertain and more beautiful than words.
First Fruits Page 12