So, I tell him. I leave out some things; I don't tell him any of the details of what happened in the barn, but I give him enough of the story so that he will be able to explore any options he thinks may be relevant. I also neglect to mention that I changed my name to get away from my parents, and if that hinders his inquiry in any way, so be it.
"And this Turner guy that was the one who kidnapped you and your sister, is dead?"
"Yes. He died that night. I -- I shot him."
Victor looks morose. "You did what you had to do to save your life and the life of your sister. There is no shame in that. It is unfair that you were put in that position, Paige. That must have been very tough for you to deal with."
I look down at my hands. It's been a long time since I've thought of the way Turner looked t me incredulously as his life bled out from the hole in his chest. "I could have done a better job of dealing with it, believe me."
"I'm sure you did the best you could."
"No, I didn't. And it was worse after Nicole killed herself three months later. Then I had no one. And my parents? They couldn't even look at me. The one person who understood what I was going through went into my parents' home office when she was home alone, stole the key to the gun chest, and shot herself in the head."
A long stretch of silence then. No one can follow that declaration with anything meaningful.
Victor stands up. "I think I have everything that I need for the moment. I've certainly put you through enough. Digging into the past is almost always painful."
I walk him to the door. "Thank you again, Victor. If you need anything else just let me know."
"Paige, you take care of yourself. Get some new locks installed on this door and be extra careful when you are alone."
"I will."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
After Victor leaves, I take a few moments to collect myself and make sense of all the emotions I have churning up inside my head. It has been a colorful few days. There is the lust that I feel when Brady is around, the fear that someone might want to kill me, and the sorrow that comes with remembering. At least I can add a sense of relief to that list because of Victor and the fact that my vase is no longer spread across the floor.
Throwing myself down on the couch, I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts. It is definitely a limited list; just my parents, Dr. Sullivan, Brady, Elyse, and now Victor. I type a text to Brady letting him know that Victor is gone and he can come back if he wants to, but I erase the message before I send it. He could probably use his space just as much as I can.
I call Elyse instead. I honestly have no idea why. I guess I'm feeling unsettled still and it wouldn't hurt to hear a friendly voice.
"Hi, Paige!"
I am always a little surprised by how exuberant she is.
"Hey, Elyse. How's it going?"
"Very well, just making dinner. How are you?"
We chat for a few more minutes about mundane things. She's cooking Garrett's favorite meal, lasagna, because he's leaving on another business trip tomorrow night. I ask her if she's like to fo see a movie or something this weekend, since she'll be all alone. Eventually we run out of things to talk about and we get off of the phone. I resume staring at the ceiling.
When I was a kid, I used to have those glow in the dark star stickers in my room. Malvina found a book with the constellations and we spent two days arranging the stickers as best we could. I think I was nine or ten.
Nicole made fun of us; she thought the star stickers were childish. She had just become a teenager around then so pretty much everything became childish to her. But when a few months had gone by and the stickers stopped glowing at night, it was Nicole who bought me a new package with her saved up allowance money.
Nicole always did things like that. She could ridicule whatever she chose to, but if she loved you then she'd still support the very thing it was she'd laugh at.
I miss her. I hate that the last memory I have of her is a lifeless body with hollow eyes; a hole in her head from which blood and tissue was leaking out.
I shake that image out of my head as I hear someone knock on the door. I get up to answer it and I realize that it is already dark outside. Time must have gotten away from me while I was daydreaming. It has been several hours since Victor left, but I could almost swear it wasn't more than a half an hour ago.
Brady stands in the doorway holding my messenger bag, a pizza box, and a case of beer.
"You left your book bag upstairs yesterday and this is the pizza we never ate. It's cold."
He follows me inside, sets the pizza on the kitchen counter, and puts the beer in the refrigerator.
"Thank you, I didn't even realize my books were not here. What's with the beer?"
He flashes me an impish grin. "It was just sitting in my fridge. I thought it might help you take the edge off and it's never a bad idea to get a hot girl drunk."
"Real nice."
"A for effort? Are you hungry?"
I pull two plates out of the cabinets. "Yes, actually. I just realize that I haven't eaten anything other than coffee today. I'm surprised that I haven't passed out yet."
Brady puts two slices on each plate. "Yeah, coffee doesn't count for having eaten anything."
I nod my head. "Coffee is an essential food group. Look at the pyramid. I love cold pizza, but I can heat yours up for you."
He points to himself. "College guy. I've eaten a cold pizza once or twice."
"Good point. Do you want eat this here or over on the couch?"
"Definitely the couch. Ho do you feel about Thursday Night Football?"
I carry our plates towards the living room while Brady grabs two bottles of water and two cans of the beer.
"I love football, especially if the Browns are playing. Is the game on ESPN?"
We set our plates and drinks down on the coffee table and I pass Brady the remote. "No, it's on the NFL Network. Which the association is kind enough to include in the cable package that we pay for with th ridiculous maintenance fees. Want a beer?"
I think about it for a moment. "I don't think I should. I have two classes in the morning."
"It's just a beer. One won't kill you."
I accept the can he is trying to pass me and I take a sip. "Peer pressure? Okay, fine. I'll only have one, though."
"Hey, only drink what you want to. I was kidding about getting you drunk."
I have pizza in my mouth, so it takes me a minute to respond. "I mean, it's not like you would need to get me drunk anyway."
I wink at him.
"Oh, is that so? I'll remember that later, Paige."
The rest of the evening is easy and pleasant in that same manner. We watch the Colts get stomped on by the Patriots, much to Brady's delight. I finish my beer, but I stick to my one drink limit because I'm not a fan of being hung over and stuck in a three hour lecture course. Those classes are tough enough already.
I really enjoy Brady's company and it is great to know that even though the dynamic has been altered from just friendship to something more, we can still sit and hang out like two normal people and there is no weirdness between us. Although, especially after his third beer, I do find it odd that he hasn't asked me to take my clothes off even once since before we started watching the game. Okay, odd isn't the right word because I know he's trying to not overwhelm me. Perhaps it is that I am secretly a bit disappointed.
Which is probably why when the game is over and we've cleaned up from dinner, I take my t-shirt off and throw it at him. My sweat pants I simply shimmy out of and leave laying on the floor of the kitchen in a pool of heather gray material, leaving me in nothing but a pair of dark gray boy shorts.
Brady watches this whole scenario with a surprised, yet pleased look on his face. My clothing stays where it is; I'd lose the effect if I tried to clean it up after stripping for him, and I start to head down the hall to my bedroom. I can't resist taunting him a bit more, playful mood that I'm in. "Are you waiting for a written invit
ation?"
He laughs and finally gets himself moving because less than a minute later I feel his hands turning me around to face him. He has my back up against the wall and he places an arm on either side of me, caging me in. I think he'll kiss m or touch me now, but he just looks at me for a few moments. "You're quite the contradiction, aren't you, Paige?"
I play innocent. "What do you mean, Brady?"
"I mean that you're unpredictable. Completely. You keep me at arm's length, and yet you still manage to keep me on the hook. You start to let me in while pushing me even further away. You are very closed off, yet you have more sexual confidence than most of the women your age and it's damn sexy. I cannot figure out who you'll be at any given moment."
I touch my hand to his chest and trail one finger down until I'm hooked onto the waistband of his jeans. "Is this a problem for you, Brady? Do you need to be with someone more stable?"
Looking down, I can literally see the answer to my question as his cock grows erect in his pants.
"No," he says. "Stability is overrated. I'll take moody over boring any day of the week."
And then his mouth is crushing mine and I'm kissing him back fervently. He cups one of my breasts and teases the nipple simultaneously. I make an involuntary noise from the back of my throat. "Oh, you like that do you?"
I lean forward and press my body against his so that I put pressure right where he needs it most. He closes his eyes for a second and I know I've won. Although I'm not sure what we are competing for.
"Yes," I answer him. "I really like that."
I move from his waistband to where his cock is confined by his jeans and I cup him in my hand. It spurs him into action and before I know it, he has me up off of the floor with my legs wrapped around his waist. My clit is rubbing against his erection and I am this close to shoving my fingers between my legs and getting myself off. Not that I think he'd mind very much. But we've done that already. Tonight I want nothing more than to come with him inside of me.
We are in my bedroom now, but Brady doesn't yet set me down. Instead, he tears his mouth from mine and places some quick kisses at the base of my neck, right at the clavicle. I almost lose myself; my hands come away from the grip I had around his upper body and I'm lucky he has a tight hold on me or else I would have fallen.
This seems ot be his cue to lower me down to the bed. Once I'm out of his grip, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. I want his jeans off of him as well, so I unbutton and unzip them before sliding them down his legs. His boxer briefs are still on, but with his obviously erect cock right at eye level for me, I waste no time in pulling the briefs down a bit and taking him out. My hand circles him at the base and I lean forward to take just a tony taste. His cock jumps. I love that.
Feeling encouraged, this time I take more than a little taste as my mouth encircles the head of his cock and I flick my tongue against the underside, at the seam. Brady immediately pulls my hands from him and pushes me back down on the bed.
"Uh uh, Paige.Do you know how badly I want you? You do that again and I'll completely embarrass myself. Let's get those panties off of you first."
Because I'm laying back, Brady hooks a finger into either side of my boy shorts and slowly starts pulling them off. I am watching and I notice a small damp spot in the fabric at the center. Brady notices as well and touches a finger to my core, feeling for the source of that moisture. "You are so fucking wet. It's incredible."
And then his head is between my legs and I feel him kiss me right above my clit. I squirm. When his tongue is moving against me, I nearly start to convulse.
I'm getting so damn close that I need to stop him now before I lose myself. "Wait, Brady."
He looks up. "Is something wrong?"
"No, I just don't want to come without your cock inside of me. Please?"
"Like you even have to ask."
It takes him no time to grab a condom from his discarded jeans and roll it on. He settles himself on the bed just over me, placing an arm on either side of me and framing my face with his hands. He begins with a gentle kiss, and soon I feel the tip of his cock teasing me; it drives me crazy and I try raising my hips off of the bed to meet him. Finally, finally, he leans back to a kneeling position, grasps himself with one hand and pulls me more open with the other. He pushes forward and then he's inside me. He keeps his strokes slow at first; long, torturous in and out movements, and then he thrusts into me hard. I make some unintelligible sounds and open my legs wider. Brady grabsone leg and puts it over his shoulder so that he can get deeper inside of me.
I'm so close, yet not right there and after a while longer, his breathing starts to get ragged so I know I don't have much time.
"I don't know how much longer I can hold back, Paige, but I am not coming until you do."
He flips us over so that I'm on top, as he leans against the headboard. I move my hips so that I can feel not just his cock on the inside, but I grind my clit up against his pubic bone and create extra friction. It's almost enough and then Brady dips his hand in between us and we both watch as two of his fingers find my clit and rub.
That does it. I'm orgasming for what seems like an eternity, my moans so loud I drown my thoughts right out. Not that I can think in this moment.
"Fuck."
There's something so sexy about that desperate cursing when a man starts to come. Perhaps it is the only time those words are appropriate. I ride out the last of my muscle spasms as Brady violently bucks beneath me.
Exhausted, I lay back away from him with even as his cock still twitches inside me. Only the sounds of heavy breathing can be heard now.
When we're both recovered enough, Brady get up, repositions me so that my head is on the pillows and goes to dispose of the condom.
I'm half asleep when he comes back from using the bathroom, washing his hands, and brushing his teeth, but I get up anyway so that I can do the same. Not nearly as comfortable as he is, I shut the door while I pee. I wash my hands and brush my teeth, too. When I get back to my bed I hear the heavy breathing of someone who is obviously asleep and I have to really work hard to get myself under ym blanket because Brady is passed out on top of the covers. I shove him in the side gently, sort of, and he wakes up just enough to pull the blanket over both of us, turn me towards him, and the he's asleep again with his hands cupping my ass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I wake up in the middle of the night dying of thirst, so I get up and wander into the kitchen for some water. I don't bother with my robe this time. I set the ice maker to crushed and fill my glass with little shards of ice and lots of water. After I drink the entire glass, I lean against the counter and start chewing the crushed ice. I've always loved doing that. I just kind of drift around in my head for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of being just fucked and sore.
Brady comes strolling into the kitchen at some point later, though I'm not sure how much later, looking sleepy and disoriented. Not so much that he doesn't notice me focusing my gaze on his cock which, while not currently erect, is still a nice thing to look at as it hits heavily against his thigh with every step.
He smirks at me. "I like a woman who will check me out and not be shy about it."
"I don't feel like I should be bashful about wanting to look at you naked. You do naked well."
Brady raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? You should see how well you do naked. No comparison."
I chew on some more ice. "It's not like I'm going to argue with you."
He laughs. "Isn't chewing on ice cubes supposed to indicate a sign of sexual frustration?"
"Well, I just had sex and I had a fucking great orgasm so I'm going to have to go ahead and say that, no, chewing ice is not frustration. More than likely, it is probably closer to a sign that I have an oral fixation."
There. Let him mull that one over in his head for a while. And he does because the sleep starts to clear from his head and I notice his cock start to thicken.
"For such a beaut
iful girl, Paige, you're actually sort of evil, you know?"
I smile one of those secret smiles that makes people think you're up to something.
Brady holds his arms open. "Come here. I want to show you something."
I make my way around the counter slowly; doing my best to draw it out and make him wait. When I finally get within Brady's reach, he hoists me up off of the ground and throws me over his shoulder with my ass in the air.
I yelp from surprise.
Brady smacks my butt lightly. "Now this view I definitely love."
In retaliation, I slap one side of his ass a lot harder than he did to me.
"Now you're in for it, Paige."
He practically runs with me back into my bedroom, but he has to stop in the doorway because it is pitch black in here and neither of us can see a thing.
"Swing around," I tell him. "I should be able to find the light switch."
I do locate the switch and the room is bathed in light too harsh for either of us since the only light we'd used in the kitchen was whatever city lights filtered in through the sliding glass doors.
When I can finally open my eyes more than just a slit, I see the wrong color on the floor. The carpet in my bedroom is beige.
"Son of a bitch."
Brady notices the big red splotches at the same time that I do. It is red all over the far side of my room; most of it concentrated in front of the glass doors that lead to the smaller balcony. It looks like someone bled to death over there, as I'm sure it was intended to. I can tell it isn't actually blood, though. I didn't notice at first, though now I recall something smelling off when I got up for the water, but the room smells strongly of paint.
"Brady."
I clutch at my chest; I think this is probably the worst thing the psycho has done.
Because the only time that the red paint could have been poured out like that was when Brady and I were asleep in my bed.
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