by Jordan Marie
“Pig,” she laughs, but it’s a laugh that’s almost as tight as her body at the moment. She doesn’t want to finish the story. I should change the subject and let her off the hook. I can’t bring myself to do that. I need to know.
“Finish it, Kitten,” I prompt and she grows completely still and then sits up in bed, staring at the wall. My eyes follow the way the sheet clings to her body and drapes around her soft curves, hiding a body I’ve come to know better than my own.
“Daniel came into my room. I had my headphones on, so I didn’t notice him until he already had me cornered. When I told him to leave, he laughed,” she whispers like it was a dirty little secret. “I screamed at him to leave. I told him if he didn’t the others would find him, and he’d be in trouble. I stupidly threatened him with the law, anything and anyone I could think of.”
“He wasn’t impressed?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“If the smack across the cheek was anything to go by, then I’d say no,” she jokes. I shift so I’m behind her and lift her body over so she lies between my legs and against my chest. Her back to my front, her head tucked under my chin, and I hold her close. Her body eases against me, and she sighs. “He threw me down on the bed and ripped my sweater off of me. I can still taste his skin, even after all these years, Max. The clammy, salty, horrible taste of his hand as he clamped it down on my mouth to stop my screaming.”
“Did he…”
“No, Max. He didn’t rape me. I managed to bite down on his hand hard enough he jerked back. I was kind of proud that I drew blood. He punched me in the face then. I tried to scratch and claw, but he was bigger, stronger, and definitely meaner.”
“How’d you get away?”
“Long story short, Rory heard my screams, broke through a downstairs window with a baseball bat,” she tilts her head to the side and looks up me with this slight laugh. “You should have seen Rory. He was barely a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but he came running in my room like a conquering hero. He took the baseball bat and used it to slam Daniel on the side of the head. Daniel fell off of me and was unconscious on the floor.”
Tessa shifts again, this time to snuggle back into me and curl on her side. I try to ignore the way my dick semi-hardens as her ass brushes it. I clear my throat and try to concentrate on the story and not just how bad I want Tess, again, so soon. “What happened next?”
“I think Rory and I were both in shock for a minute at how easily Daniel went down. We threw what few clothes we had into a plastic Walmart bag. Rory grabbed some food and drinks in another one. It took us all of ten minutes, and we were terrified the whole time, afraid Daniel would wake up.”
“He didn’t?”
“Nope, not a peep. Not even when Rory and I cleaned out his wallet. Now that was scary. I was sure he’d catch us. Rory insisted we needed the money to get us away from there though.”
“He was smart,” I say grudgingly—torn between liking this unknown kid and resenting him.
“The smartest,” she sighs. “We pocketed the money and Rory grabbed my hand, and we took off running. We never stopped running. From that moment on, it was him and me against the world.”
“Where did you go?”
“Florida,” she half laughs. “We lived in Georgia then. Rory and I walked, hopped trains, and hitched. It’s a wonder we weren’t killed.”
“Damn.” I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. “You got married?”
“In a way. Rory and I were a team. We loved each other deeply, but well…it wasn’t an adult love, at least not for me—but he was my world. We were teens and experimenting. Rory was getting sick again. We both knew it though we tried not to talk about it. We decided to give each other our first times.” My arms contract against her, pulling her even further into me. Needing her closer, even if I don’t understand why. “Rory though, was an old soul. Or maybe he just knew his time was short. He said we couldn’t unless we were married because he wanted his first time to be with his wife.”
“Is that where you get it from?” I ask gruffly.
“Get what?”
“Your belief that fairytales happen?”
“Maybe. I’d like to think that Rory got everything in his next life that this one cheated him of. Plus, I mean with all the hell we had, somehow Rory and I found each other and that was good. That was pure. That has to mean something, Max.” There’s a pain in my chest at her words. I ignore it and wait, for her to finish the story. “So, at the ripe age of seventeen, Rory and I went out on Flagler Beach and joined hands as the tide started coming in. We yelled out to the powers that be that we were linked together forever, husband and wife.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Kitten,” I tell her, trying to work through the thoughts that I’m having, but unable to process them.
“It’s your turn now,” she says, and I sigh. I don’t want to talk about Renee. I’m about to tell her that when Tess, remarkable Tess, surprises me again.
“Exactly what is your relationship with the Vipers, Max? Why is Markum going all out to help you? I mean I’ve seen your ink, and it’s great and all, but there has to be more to your story.”
27
Tess
I think I’m holding my breath, waiting for Max to answer. He’s so hard to read and our relationship, or whatever this is, is so complicated. I find myself worried; any time I push him for more.
“What makes you think there’s more?”
“Umm…gee…I don’t know, Max. Maybe because I’m not stupid. What kind of man would stick his neck out, and that of his men, to protect an outsider?”
“I told you; I had markers I called in.”
“Yeah, okay,” I answer, letting it go and feeling the disappointment settle inside. Why did I think something had shifted with us since that day I decided to go with him? How did I forget the real reason I am in Max’s life? I pull away, thinking now would be a good time to get some distance. To reassess exactly, what the hell I’m doing.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls, holding me even though I’m trying to get away.
“I just need some air,” I lie. I’m hurt, and I shouldn’t be. I’m stupid.
“Damn it, Tess!” he growls when I finally manage to get off the bed, and I’m doing my best to stop the tears. I’m not a crier, so I don’t even know why I want to cry! But, I do. I absolutely want to cry, because I feel helpless, and I hate that feeling.
“It’s okay, Mad Max, I get it. I do. Just because I tell you about my life, it doesn’t mean we’re sharing. I’m your hostage. I just forgot for a minute exactly what kind of relationship we have.” Those words bring out the tears. I hate that they are falling, I hate that I can’t stop them, and I hate that Max caused them.
“Will you calm down?”
“I am calm!” I argue.
“Then why are you crying?” he asks confused, and he should be. I am. So, I give him the truth.
“I don’t know!”
“Jesus, this is why I don’t do relationships. You women are crazy. Get back in bed, Tess.”
“I want a drink,” I grumble, glad when the tears seem to disappear as quickly as they appeared. Maybe I was just raw from talking about Rory. I don’t allow myself to go there very often.
“Hell, I need one, but if you want to hear this damn story, get back in bed.”
“Why? You don’t have to tell me, after all, I’m just…”
“Shut it before I tan your hide. And trust me after the workout I gave you this evening, doing that will leave you hurting, and not in the way you like.” His words are supposed to be a threat, I know, but I can’t stop the quiver of awareness that travels down my spine. “Jesus, Kitten, get the look off your face before I fuck you and me both into a coma.”
I huff and get back under the covers. I try to hold my body stiff against him, but he turns so that he spoons me from behind, and the heat from his body weakens my resolve. Max wastes no time taking advantage of tha
t when he kisses the curve of my neck. Just one soft touch from him and my mind goes to mush.
“First, Tess, let’s clear up the fact that you are not my hostage. You stopped being that when you decided to leave with me. Whatever this is, I think it’s safe to say that we’re in it together now, right?”
I release a pent up breath at his words. He’s right. There’s no one holding me to Max now, but myself. It’s time I owned up to that.
“You’re right.”
“Second, it’s not that I mind talking about Marcum, It’s just… I never really have before. Marcum feels like he owes me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve told him he doesn’t, he still feels like he does.”
He burrows his head against the back of my neck kissing me. It’s distracting, and maybe that’s what he wants. I’m not sure. I try to grasp his words, but I can’t help feeling like a very big piece of the puzzle is missing.
“Why would he feel like he owes you? Did you save the life of one of his twenty children or something?”
He squeezes me and laughs, “Tess.”
“Well, I mean it can’t have escaped your notice that Marcum has a lot of kids, Max. The man must have like super sperm or something.”
“Can we not talk about Marcum’s sperm while we’re in our bed?”
I smile when he says, our bed. I can’t help it. “Why not? Do his little soldiers intimidate you, Max?” I joke.
“Jesus. How is it you always manage to bust my balls, Tess?”
“It’s a gift?”
“I’m beginning to ask myself which one of us actually got taken prisoner that day.”
His words give me a funny feeling, and it warms me. I don’t want to give myself time to dissect it though. I’ve already had one irrational, emotional outburst tonight. “Okay so, Marcum?” I prompt because I really do want to know. Max is a mystery, and I want to know more and more about him.
“He’s my old man.”
I blink, lie still, and then blink again. Shouldn’t that have been in his file? How did I not know that? “Your records never mentioned it! How is that possible?”
“Because the old fucker has super sperm?”
I slap backwards, grazing Max’s leg that he has half draped over me. “You know what I mean.”
Max sighs, his breath soft against my skin. “You’ve read about my mom?” he asks, and I swallow hard because I have.
Max’s mom had been raped as a young girl. It broke her mind. She spent her troubled life in and out of hospitals and being strung out on drugs. She got pregnant at the age of fourteen and had the baby—Max, while a resident in the state mental hospital because she tried to kill herself. I couldn’t even imagine how it would shape someone to know that the person who gave birth to them struggled with so much. What kind of scars would that inflict on you?
“I’ve read,” I whisper, like a guilty secret, wrapping my arm behind me and pulling him deeper into me, as if to protect him.
“I’m okay, Kitten,” he kind of laughs, like he knows what I’m doing. “It was a long time ago.”
“How did she and Marcum meet up?”
“Marcum is a horny bastard, until Cherry he never cared much where he stuck his dick.”
“But she was fourteen, Max,” I answer, and I can’t help the disgust that’s in my voice.
“That’s part of the reason he and I are just now starting to work through shit. He says he didn’t know how young she was, or what shape she was in. Said she out and out lied to him.”
I turn over to face him, fitting my body tight into him and kissing his chest, trying to ignore the tears that have started up yet again. “You believe him?”
Max lets out yet another sigh, this one louder and more disgusted than before. “Sometimes. Most days I guess. I’m not sure how much he would have cared about her situation, but I don’t think he would have touched jailbait. Who knows? Men are stupid when they think with their dick. I’ve managed to follow in the old man’s footsteps, despite trying like hell not too.”
I can’t argue with him, but I can’t help the way those words cut. Max must feel the change in me because he kisses his forehead. “Wasn’t talking about you, Kitten.” That’s nice, but then again what we’re doing isn’t exactly healthy. I let it go. I could second guess and go back and forth about Max forever. I do that enough already.
“Your file said your uncle raised you. Why didn’t Marcum?”
“He didn’t know about me. Bastard came into my shop one day wanting some ink for him and his boys. Said he heard I was good. One of the men who work in my shop mentioned my mom’s name. We’ve been feeling our way with each other ever since.
“Holy hell.”
Max laughs though it’s not a happy one. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, Kitten.”
“Your father needs to think about having it fixed, so his soldiers only shoot blanks,” I tell him, and my eyes are starting to grow heavy. The combination of multiple orgasms, crying, and the emotional talk with Max, combined with the warmth of his body is slowly dragging me toward sleep.
“Cherry is making him. We get settled out of the country; I’ll do it too. He reminded me recently we share the same DNA. That sure as hell can’t happen. We don’t need to take any more chances.”
My blood runs cool at his words. He’s right of course. I hadn’t even been thinking of that, and we’ve been going at it like rabbits. Max is always super careful though. He never takes me without protection. That’s a must for him. Every single time he makes sure he wears a condom. Except for that day one the beach.
“I need to go to sleep, Max. You’ve worn me out,” I murmur because I need to change the subject. I need to think about something else. Anything else.
“Sleep, Kitten. We have a lot of things to do to get ready and we leave in the next few weeks. I’m glad you’re going with me,” he answers.
“I am too…Night, Mad Max,” I whisper letting sleep claim me I try to shove my worry away. It was just one time, and it was nowhere near the right time of the month. I’m sure everything will be fine.
I’m sure…
28
Tess
Four more days. Four more days, and I will have officially skipped the border with Maxwell Kincaid. I’d ask myself what in the hell I’m thinking, but I know. Max is dark; there’s not a soft damn thing about him. If I made a list of pros and cons, there would be only one pro. I get more time with the man I love. The cons would be a mile long, but all of them together don’t equal what I’d have to gain. Four more days. With each day that passes, I’m surer of my decision. Unfortunately, that feeling of impending doom also increases. Tonight my panic is almost at the surface. I know Max can sense it. He keeps casting me these looks, and I keep trying to pretend I don’t see them.
“Aren’t you going to read your fortune?”
Max’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I try and drum up a smile for him. We’re sitting on the couch watching football, or rather Max is watching and eating Chinese takeout that Marcum had one of his crew bring by. I’m not a big fan, but Max likes it, so I’m dealing with it by having fried noodles. The stench from whatever cabbage crap Max is eating though is doing a number on my stomach. Stress and worry do nothing to increase my appetite. I hold out my hand for the cookie, and he drops it in my hand.
“Who’s first?”
“Considering the last fortune I read was the newspaper the day I met you, and it told me to go back to bed and not leave the house. I’ll let you go first.”
He shakes his head at me, but cracks open his cookie.
“Practice makes perfect,” he reads and looks over to me with a big smirk on his face. “You know what that means, Kitten.”
Just the look on his face is enough to make every feminine part inside of me clench and moan in response. “Down, Casanova, it’s only been an hour since our last workout.”
“I’m sorry, Kitten, I didn’t realize you required recovery time.”
“At least one of u
s does,” I respond shaking my head at his smile. He puts a kiss on the top of my head and gives me a half hug. “Okay, Kitten. Enough stalling, crack open that damn cookie!”
“Jesus, you’re like a kid! Are you like this at Christmas?”
“Worse, now quit stalling and show me what your damn fortune says!”
My hand trembles while I break the cookie apart. I don’t know why I would rather not read it. I just know I don’t want to. I pull out the small paper while holding my breath. Finally, I release with a quiet huff of air and read.
“It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.”
It’s just a cookie, but the words lay there between us. I look up at him, and he’s smiling.
“Look there, Kitten. Confucius is telling me to fuck your ass tonight.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what it was talking about,” I tell him, but I laugh as I’m sure he intended.
“Tomato, to-mat-toe,” he shrugs.
His hand slides against my neck and he pulls my lips to him.
“Max,” I half moan, half protest.
“Tess,” his brusque voice whispers back, then his sweet lips touch mine, barely touching mine at first though his tongue comes out to tease against mine.
Rinnnnnng.
The sharp shrill of the phone rings. We don’t answer it, for obvious reasons. There’s a procedure to be followed. I know Max and I both are holding our breath. The phone isn’t supposed to ring. The club uses Max’s burn phone. The only time the house phone is supposed to be used is if there is trouble. The phone rings a few times and then stops. Simultaneously, a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. I’m almost starting to breathe normally, and I know Max’s body starts to relax when the phone rings again. Shit.
I look at him, and he gives me silent encouragement. My hand shakes as I reach over to the phone. I clear my suddenly dry throat because it feels like my tongue is heavy, and I may choke on it.
“Hello?” I ask, my hand holding the phone as if it were my greatest enemy, and I think it might be right now.
“Hey Cherry, Marcum wanted to make sure you weren’t having trouble, asked me to call.”