by Rye Hart
Jimmy and my guys pushed their way inside, allowing a stream of fresh air to come pouring in. I heard hoses being dragged on the floor, the sound of boots thundering into the house, and the magical, musical sound, of flames sizzling and being extinguished as the water and fire retardant were sprayed on them.
The smoke got worse, and outside air wasn't coming in fast enough though. We were not out of the woods just yet. Following the open doorway like a moth to an open flame, I walked toward the door, moving quickly, desperate to get to the fresh air.
The next thing I knew Jimmy was beside me. He was forcing a mask over my face and took Madison out of my arms. He cradled her in his, sharing his own mask with her. She looked up at me, her soot-covered, tear-streaked face a frightening sight. But, at least she was alive. At least she was breathing. The air outside was filled with smoke too, and we needed to get out of here. Fast.
Giving it one, final push, I sprinted for the open doorway, Jimmy right behind. The house shuddered and groaned as the fire consumed it, but I burst through the open doorway and into the bright light and fresh air of the day. As soon as my feet hit grass, I fell to my hands and knees. I coughed and retched, but at least I could breathe. Jimmy put Madison on the ground beside me and she sucked in lungful after lungful of that fresh, sweet air.
She stared over at me and in a voice that was hoarse all over again, she whispered, “Thank you,” she said. “You never gave up. You saved me. Again.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure. I turned and caught him walking away from the burning house. He glanced back over his shoulder and, when he saw me staring at him, he started to run.
I had to do something. I couldn't just let that asshole walk away. If he got away, he'd try again. No, this shit needed to end and it needed to end now.
Summoning the energy I had left in my body, I pulled myself to my feet. An EMT was nearby, a guy named Caleb I knew well enough.
I called him over said, “Get her out of here. Now.”
Caleb did as I commanded, though, I didn't wait for him to do it. I knew the process well enough though, to know that he was loading Madison into the ambulance as quickly as he could. I heard the slamming of the rear doors and, a moment later, I heard the sound of tires peeling and siren wailing.
The ambulance took off down the street, ferrying Madison to the hospital. Again. I still couldn't breathe that well, but it would have to do. I wasn't going to let that prick get away from me again. He was halfway down the block and seeing him sent a burst of anger surging through me. It energized me and I took off behind the guy.
He thankfully wasn't a very fast runner. From where I was, he seemed to be a little on the portly side and was definitely not an athlete. I was gaining ground on him and would be on top of him in a matter of moments.
The man ducked his head and ran for all he was worth, turned the corner and promptly tripped over his own feet. The stumble allowed me to close the gap between us and I was on him in a heartbeat. I landed on top of him, drawing a pained yelp from him. In one fast motion, I yanked the hood off his head and stared into the same brown eyes from the hotel.
Stared into the eyes of a man I didn't know. A man I'd never met before. A man who looked like a regular guy – nothing remarkable about him. But a guy who'd very nearly killed me and had very nearly killed Madison – twice. He looked at me with fear in his eyes.
This was the man who'd killed Lauren.
Raising my fist, I brought it crashing down into his face. I heard the bones snap as my fist made contact and his head was driven backward, rapping against the concrete sidewalk. Hard. He groaned and then went limp underneath me. As blood seeped from his nose, a rivulet running down his face, the man drifted into unconsciousness.
It was over. It was truly over.
CHAPTER TEN
Madison
My entire world had come crashing down around me. Even days later, it still felt so entirely surreal. I sat in Oliver's house, staring at the ceiling or walls for hours at a time. My body and mind completely numb. My heart feeling like it had been utterly shattered. Tears rolled freely down my face every time the realization that I no longer had a home of my own to go back to hit me again and again.
I'd lost everything I'd worked so hard to secure for myself. Everything was gone. Forever. My equipment for my Podcast. My computer. My photos. Everything. It was all gone and there was no way to get any of it back.
Oliver assured me that I had a place to stay, for as long as I needed it. It was a gesture I appreciated more than he'd ever know. As kind as it was though, it still wasn't my home. My things were nothing more than a pile of ash and garbage now. All of the memories and the hard work I'd put into creating them – gone.
Still, Oliver was bending over backwards to be generous. Hospitable. Kind. And I truly did appreciate the hell out of it. Especially given our history together. All those years ago, I'd screwed him over and hurt him. Yet, here he was saving my life time and time again.
My phone kept buzzing at all hours of the day and night. But Oliver, thankfully, kept fielding them for me. I didn't want to tell my story repeatedly. My parents got the full story. As did my best friend. My sister got most of it because, by that time, I was tired of re-living it. I didn't feel like rehashing it a thousand different times to a thousand different people.
“They caught the guy, right?”
“Yes,” I'd say.
“And you're alive, so at least there's that.”
I was alive. They were right about that much. Yet, I felt like an empty shell of a human. Without my equipment, I had no show. Without the show, I had no career. Without a career, I had no money and no future. It was a depressing as hell cycle of thought that I couldn't seem to break. And it got that much harder every time I had to try and explain my story to somebody.
I sighed and got online, using Oliver's computer and updated my website. I let my devoted listeners know what happened and promised to be back up and running as soon as I could. Not that I knew when that was going to be. Or if it would ever actually happen.
“At least I'm alive,” I muttered to myself, hearing the hollow futility ringing in my words.
Oliver had to go back to work eventually, leaving me alone in his townhome. I was nervous and jittery at first, even though the guy behind the attacks had been caught. But, at night, when I was home alone in a house that wasn't mine, I still woke up shaking with fear. Sounds would catch me off guard, set my heart pounding, my pulse racing, and fear nearly crippling me.
I didn't know when the last time I'd actually gotten a decent night's sleep had been. But, most of the time, Oliver was there to hold me, to soothe me.
Many nights, I'd be the one soothing him though.
Until eventually, we slept through the night. Both of us. It was about a month after everything had happened, and Oliver was off work. We collapsed into bed, in each other's arms, and didn't wake up until after eight the next morning. It had been absolutely wonderful and completely unexpected. But, completely welcome.
I woke up first, feeling good after an actual solid night of sleep. I lay there and stared at the man beside me. He looked so peaceful sleeping next to me, with the sun streaming down onto his face, making his cheeks glow.
This same man saved my life not once, not twice, but three times. I kissed his cheek softly, not wanting to wake him. I appreciated Oliver for everything he'd done for me and knew he, more than anybody, deserved to sleep for a week straight if he wanted to.
When my lips touched his skin though, his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled up at me.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
“I did,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “You?”
He nodded. “First time in well over a year,” he admitted.
Without preamble or warning, Oliver pulled me to him and kissed me, neither one of us caring about morning breath. His tongue entered my mouth as he pulled me over on top of him.
I felt his cock, already stiff, as I straddled him. Oliver lifted the nightgown up and over my head and tossed it aside, taking my breasts in his hands.
“You make me feel as beautiful as you did back when I was seventeen,” I laughed.
“Hell, you're more beautiful now,” he said. “Not that I ever thought that would be possible. You were the most beautiful girl in high school.”
I felt my cheeks flush. Oliver always seemed to have that effect on me. He didn't even have to say the words most of the time – he just looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And I believed him.
His erection pressed against his boxers and I ground myself down on him, dry humping him as we kissed. His hands were tangled up in my hair as I rubbed myself against his firm, hard body. He raked his fingers down my back, drawing a shudder out of my body and a soft moan from my lips.
Suddenly, Oliver pulled back from the kiss and stared into my eyes.
“I love you, Madison,” he said.
My heart raced as I absorbed his words, not sure what to make of them. Not sure what to say in return. I just sat there, staring at him, like a complete idiot.
“So much for not getting serious,” I joked.
It was the wrong thing to say, I knew it instantly, and felt like an asshole. The pain was etched into his face, and even though I felt the same way as him, I felt like I had nothing to offer him. I was, once again, starting from scratch. I was in no place to give myself to someone else. I brought nothing into a potential relationship.
But, he'd gone out on a limb by admitting his feelings. He deserved the same sort of emotional honesty and integrity from me. I owed it to him. In the days and weeks after our brush with death, I'd seen a change in Oliver. The darkness that always seemed to be behind his eyes had lifted, and the heaviness that seemed to weigh his soul down dissipated. He seemed like a new man. A free man. A happier man.
I knew it had a lot to do with finally getting closure. With finally knowing who had killed his girlfriend and seeing the man behind bars.
I was happy to see this new version of Oliver and could really get used to being around him. Being with him.
“I love you too, Ollie.”
I said the words because they needed to be said. Almost a decade after he set off that initial fluttering in my heart, I could finally tell him how I actually felt about him. And when I said the words aloud for the first time, my heart swelled so much, I feared it might burst.
Oliver pulled me down, hard, and kissed me. I slid my hands down to his boxers and pushed them down his legs. He helped me out by slipping them down his legs the rest of the way and kicking them aside.
Reaching out, I gripped him with one hand and gave his stiff rod a good, hard stroke. Feeling his prick growing even stiffer in my hand set off an explosion within me. I felt the heat and the wetness between my thighs growing.
I needed to have him inside me. I needed to have him inside me now.
Gripping his rock-hard shaft, I lowered myself down onto him, taking the tip of his cock inside of me with ease. Given how wet I was, he slipped into me without any difficulty at all. It was like our bodies were meant to be together.
I gasped as he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me down further onto his cock. He filled me up and stretched me open like no man ever had before, but the slight pinch of pain only seemed to add a little heat and spice to the intense pleasure he sent rocketing through my body.
It only took a second for my body to adjust to the size of his prick because I was already wet and ready for him. Slowly, I rocked back and forth on top of him, grinding my pelvis against his as his hands wandered the length of my body.
I felt whole when I was with him, like nothing else mattered.
“I love you,” I said again, hoping to prove it with my body.
Oliver's bed bounced as we made love, our bodies moving together as one. Each time we were together, I was amazed at how good he felt inside of me. Stunned by how he could bring me to such intense highs within minutes. Almost without even trying. It was as if he knew every inch of my body, inside and out. Knew what buttons to press to get me going and what levers to pull to get me off. It was all so effortless on his part.
Oliver sucked on my nipple, knowing full well that it would send an electrical shock through my body and ignite a fire of pleasure inside of me. I writhed against him, crying out his name as the first wave of ecstasy washed over me.
It was powerful, making me nearly scream and I spasmed so hard, I felt like I'd lost control of my body entirely for a moment. I bucked and thrashed, moving so much I felt like I might fall off him, but Oliver held onto my hips, pulled me down onto his cock harder, keeping us together.
My body exploded in pleasure against his, my wet pussy clenching around his shaft as I thrashed wildly on top of him. My head fell forward, resting on his chest as I rode him. I could hear his heart and smiled as it raced. I moved my hips, bouncing myself up and down on his hard rod faster, taking him deeper. The sound of his breathing was growing ragged and his movements were becoming a little more frantic.
I knew he was close and I wanted to get him off so bad. Wanted to make him feel as good as he made me feel. Needed to. I tightened the muscles inside me around him, gripping his cock as tightly as I could with my pussy as the last throes of my orgasm rushed through me.
Oliver held onto me, thrusting himself upward and keeping me still as his face twisted with a look of intense pleasure. I felt his body stiffen, which was followed by the feel of his hard, long cock throbbing and pulsing deep within me. A moment later, I felt the heat, warmth, and wetness flooding my body, and I knew he was exploding inside of me. Knew that he was filling me with his seed.
As our bodies relaxed, I collapsed on top of him, spent. Oliver held me like that, my body pressed against his, both of us basking in the post-coital afterglow, for a long time. As I lay there, visions of a future – a future with him – filled my head. A future I'd never imagined before.
After a while, he whispered, “Follow me,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
“What are you going to show me?”
“Can't tell you,” he said. “It's a surprise.”
He slipped me off him, his cum spilling out of me, running down my leg, and took me by the hand. I followed him, still naked, from his bedroom and out into the hallway. Across from his room was the other bedroom, and the door was closed.
He turned and gave me a mischievous little smile, a little glint in his eye. I cocked my head and looked at him, curious. Without a word, he reached out and took the doorknob in his hand.
“You ready?” he asked.
I grinned. “I'm getting a little chilly,” I said. “So yeah, I'm ready – ready to go crawl back under the comforter.”
He turned the knob without a word and pushed the door inward. “I thought you might need a new studio and office.”
My stomach roiling and my heart fluttering, I stepped inside and felt my jaw drop. It was everything I'd lost in the fire – and more. A lot more. Cameras and microphones and computers. I walked around just gawking at everything, afraid to touch anything because I knew none of it was cheap.
“How did you—”
I bit back my words and held my tongue. I didn't want to insult him, or hurt his ego, and ask the question I was dying to know – how in the hell had he been able to afford all this stuff? Instead, I shook my head and looked him in the eye, feeling profoundly grateful and entirely distraught at the same time.