Seducing Liselle

by Marie E. Blossom

  “Let me go! You have no right—” her dad shouted.

  Liselle stumbled, grabbing an empty chair to help lever her aching body off the ground. She had to help John before her father did something drastic. She’d just managed to get to her feet when she saw a flash of silver in her dad’s free hand.

  “John, knife!” she yelled, knowing she was already too late. Turning fast, her father ripped his arm free and slashed the blade against John’s side.

  “No!” she screamed, staggering as John leaped back. The blade gleamed red as her father stooped to pick up the gun. She stumbled forward, vowing to throw herself on him and stop him with her body if she had to, but then John growled and pivoted, one hand on his wound, the other grabbing the pistol from her father before he could do anything. He expertly disengaged the magazine and it fell to the floor with a clatter. Silently, he pointed it at her father’s head.

  “There’s still one in the chamber,” he said, voice steady.

  Liselle watched blood leak between his fingers. She felt sick.

  “You don’t have the guts,” her father said contemptuously.

  John’s face tightened. Behind him, a uniformed cop eased into the restaurant. Liselle’s eyes flicked back to John, trying to let him know that help had arrived. Without warning, her dad pivoted and grabbed her arm, pulling her close and shoving the knife he still held up under her chin. She stopped breathing, stopped thinking. She couldn’t do anything except stare at John and will him to just walk away. She wasn’t worth it.

  “Drop the knife,” John growled. To her astonishment, he let go of his side and brought his bloody hand up to help hold the gun steady. He didn’t look at her, didn’t let his eyes move from her father’s face.

  Her dad pushed the knife into her skin. It stung and Liselle knew she was probably bleeding. She didn’t try to struggle—there was no point. The grip her father had on her arm and around her shoulders was too tight. She let out a shaky breath, keeping as still as possible. The smell of her father’s dirty clothes and unwashed hair almost made her gag. The look of determination on John’s face made her want to cry.

  “Drop it or you’re dead.” John shifted his stance minutely.

  “Fuck you. She’s my daughter. I can do whatever the fuck I want with her.” Liselle’s dad punctuated his words by driving the knife into the soft skin under her jaw. She flinched. She couldn’t help it. She could see the exact moment John made the decision to shoot. She closed her eyes. A split second later, her father slumped to the floor. She almost went down on top of him, but then John was there, holding her tight. She couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

  “My ears are ringing,” she whispered into his shoulder. Everything around her felt fuzzy and quiet. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, and then the smell of blood hit her nose. “Oh my God, he cut you,” she exclaimed, pushing John away. “Let me see.” She tried to inspect his side, but he wouldn’t let go of her. Her ears popped and she winced, eyes watering.

  “…nothing. Just a flesh wound,” he was saying as he stroked a hand down her arm.

  She reared back, blinking her eyes. “Your face is blurry.”

  He smiled, resting his forehead on hers. “So’s yours.”

  “John,” she said, clutching his shoulders. “You saved me.” She tried to wrap her brain around the idea that her father was dead and just couldn’t. He’d been the monster in her life for so long, she couldn’t grasp the enormity of what had just happened.

  “You saved me too,” he murmured into her hair.

  Liselle frowned at that, but let him hold her. “I tried to stop him. Now I don’t know what to do.”

  “You don’t have to do anything.” John ran a hand through her hair. “Just … stay.”

  And with those words, the rest of the world came rushing in with a clamor of sirens and chaos. She closed her eyes and let John take care of everything.

  Chapter Ten

  Ten hours later, Liselle sat in the passenger side of John’s truck as he drove them both home from the hospital. It was dark outside and she was glad, because she felt as though her entire world had been turned inside out. She felt exposed, as though everyone could see the tragedy of her entire life on her face if they so much as glanced at her. The darkness helped keep her hidden. Strangely, the graze on her cheek from the bullet hurt worse than the wound on her neck. She glanced at John, still amazed that he’d only needed seven stitches in his side. They were both incredibly lucky. The cops had witnessed everything. And her dad was wanted for murder, of all things, in another state. All they needed to do was give a statement in a day or so, and the details would be all wrapped up. It seemed like a very quick end for the misery that had ruled her life.

  “You okay over there?” John asked quietly.

  She nodded, staring out the window. She couldn’t see much. Clouds had moved in while they were in the emergency room. As soon as it got dark it began to rain, a heavy, drenching summer soaking. All she could see were occasional flashes of wet trees when the headlights hit them and the road ahead that seemed to stretch into the mist forever.

  “Liselle?” John put a hand on her arm.

  She stared down at it. His hands were strong. Warm. An inexplicable rage bubbled up inside her and she shrugged him off. “I’m fine,” she said curtly.

  He slowed down, took the turn onto the dirt road leading to his cabin.

  “You don’t sound fine,” he said, voice low and patient.

  For some reason his quiet acceptance of her foul mood just made her angrier.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she bit out.

  He sighed and parked the truck under the trees. The windshield wipers squeaked. She wanted to rip them off the truck and fling them into the darkness.

  “Liselle, you have to know I would do anything to keep you safe,” he said, turning toward her.

  She stared at his jaw. He needed to shave. Blonde stubble decorated the strong lines of his face. She let her eyes move down his chest to his groin. His jeans were tight. The seatbelt looked uncomfortable with the way he’d twisted to face her.

  “I never asked you to protect me,” she said angrily. She looked away, not wanting to see the compassion on his face. What was wrong with her? John wasn’t the man who’d hurt her. He didn’t deserve this from her. She picked at her shirt, hating the way the wet fabric clung to her skin.

  “You don’t have to ask me.” John turned off the wipers, letting the rain run down the windshield.

  The world is sobbing for me, Liselle thought, sighing.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after the silence had gone on too long. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’re tired.” John turned off the engine. “Look, come outside with me.”

  She frowned at him. “It’s pouring out there.”

  “I know.” He unclipped his belt and opened the door. The rain sounded like a waterfall.

  “You’re going to get soaked,” she said, reaching for his arm. “Your bandage is going to get wet.”

  He shrugged her off. “It’ll be fine until we get home. It’s a shallow cut. A little rain won’t hurt it.” He closed the door.

  Liselle watched him walk around the truck, the rain wetting the red of his shirt and turning it dark maroon. It clung to his chest and highlighted each muscle as if he’d planned it that way. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. When he opened the passenger door, she didn’t move.

  “Come on.” He held out his hand.

  She grimaced, but gave him her fingers. “I don’t want to.”

  He hauled her out. “You’re already here.” He shut the door behind her and tucked her head into his neck. “You won’t melt. It’s, like, eighty-five degrees out here, even with the rain. Just relax.”

  She clenched her teeth, not wanting to admit he was right. The rain did feel good. It cooled her off, but didn’t make her feel any less angry.

  “I’m really pissed off right now.�
�� She butted her head into his chest.

  “I know,” he sighed. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Stop talking,” she said before she even knew that’s what she wanted. She wanted him to be quiet. And she wanted him more naked. “Take your shirt off.” She leaned back and pulled at the buttons.

  John let his hands fall to his sides, letting her rip at the fabric without comment. When she got it open, she ran her hands over his chest. His nipples were hard little points and she played with them, enjoying the way the water ran over his muscles. Arousal moved through her, hot and tight, replacing the anger, until her hands reached the white bandage taped to his side. Goddamn my father to hell, she thought. I hope he rots down there.

  John touched her cheek, hands gentle.

  She jerked away. “Don’t move,” she said, poking him in the abdomen. He licked his lips and nodded. The rain ran down his face. He looked like a god, strong and powerful.

  And all mine, she thought, unbuttoning her jeans. She shoved them down along with her panties, kicking them into the mud on the side of the road. She took off her shirt and threw it somewhere behind her, wanting to feel the rain on her flesh. She unclipped her bra and tossed it, too, standing naked under the drenching storm.

  Yeah. This is what it feels like inside my head. Now the outside matches. She tilted her face up. The water stung her cuts. It was the first time she’d felt clean in years.

  “Liselle?” John put a hand on her arm.

  She whipped her head down and pushed him back against the truck. “Please don’t talk.”

  He looked at her, green eyes dark, hair plastered to his forehead. “If that’s what you want.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I want.” She let her eyes trail down his body, not surprised by the bulge pressing against the front of his jeans. She stepped forward and unbuttoned him, slowly lowering the zipper. His dick surged up and out, pressing into the wet fabric of his thin boxers.

  “I want this,” she said, cupping him in her hands and running a thumb over the tip. He sucked in a sharp gasp, but didn’t speak. He nodded instead.

  Liselle smiled approvingly. She wanted to have all the control this time. She needed to be able to touch him and know that he wouldn’t hurt her. More importantly, she wanted to know if he’d let her to do whatever she wanted. She’d spent her entire life watching everything she did, everything she said, in an effort to keep her dad from flipping out until it became a habit. And when Matt began treating her like crap, too, her defensive mechanisms became second nature. It got to the point where she didn’t even think about what she was doing anymore: she always tried to make the people around her keep calm, keep happy, at the expense of her own choices. Now she wanted to break out of the old behaviors and discover who she truly was.

  “Are you okay with this?” she asked, running a finger over his now wet bandage. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?” She didn’t want him in pain, just quiescent.

  He nodded, hands restless.

  She licked her lips and ran a finger down his cock. It twitched. She looked at his body, wet skin glistening in the dimly reflected light from the truck’s headlights. She leaned in and licked his chest. He tasted like rain, like grief. Like adrenaline. Her heart gave a hard thump. She leaned in again and kissed along his scar, tasting the pain he’d suffered. She fought back a sob, and shoved his jeans down. He grabbed her arms, but she shook him off and tugged at his boxers. He toed off his sneakers as she pulled his underwear off. He tried to hold her again and she backed up.

  “No, don’t. I want to—” She broke off, showing him how she wanted him to stand: against the truck, legs slightly spread. His erection bobbed as he moved, thick and hot. He was beautiful, even with the bandage on his side. The lack of perfection made him real.

  She wanted to rub herself all over him. She wanted to let him hold her and forget about her entire life. She wanted so much more than she had any right to ask him to give. Angry with herself, now, she surged forward and kissed him on the lips, sighing as he let her in. His arms made an abortive motion to draw her close, then dropped to the truck, pressing hard against the metal.

  She kissed him again, a thank you of sorts, and ran her hands up his flanks. He trembled. She put her arms around him and slotted close. The hot throb of his dick rubbed against her hip.

  “I want you, just like this. Okay?” she asked.

  John nodded and put his hands in her hair, tentative. Gentle. She grabbed his wrists and put his wide palms on her ass. He groaned, kneading her skin. She swallowed the sound with her mouth, slinging a leg around his hip. Her ankle protested, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. John was. He was so hot and strong and perfect, and the rain was cool—the contrast made her shiver. She tried to get her thighs around his hips, but she had no leverage. He was too big.

  “John, please, help me,” she begged, rutting against him.

  His arms flexed and the next thing she knew she was on the hood of the truck, leaning back as he shoved his cock inside her with one swift thrust.

  “God,” she gasped. He was so big he only got halfway in. She worked herself down on him, needing more. “John, come on. Fuck me.” Something harsh and angry was rising up in her again, and she needed him to soothe her.

  He growled, wordless, and grabbed her hips, thrusting hard.

  Liselle cried out, amazed at how perfectly he fit, how much better she felt.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Come on.” She urged him on, wrapping her legs around him. Arousal rose in her, hot and wild, and she gave into it, writhing. John grunted and tucked his head into her neck. She grabbed his head, holding him tight, and then his cock jerked inside her with his climax and she crashed over the edge, too. She moaned, grinding down on him as the pleasure crested in waves, shooting through her until she cried out. She rode him until every last bit of her orgasm faded, then slumped into his arms. She was crying.

  “Is that what you wanted?” he asked her quietly. The rain ran over both of them, getting in her eyes, her mouth. She licked her lips. The water tasted a little bit like John, and a little bit sweet.

  She shrugged and wiped her face. It didn’t do much good. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh. Don’t be.” He ran his hands up and down her back, gentling her. He kissed the sensitive spot under her ear. “It’s not like it was a hardship for me, you know.” He sounded like he was smiling.

  She snorted. “Still. I was angry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

  “Hey.” He tilted her head up.

  He looked happy. How was that possible? she wondered. She’d been such a bitch.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. I liked it. I like knowing that you trust me enough to let go like that.”

  She burrowed into him. “I don’t know if that’s what I wanted, but it felt like what I needed.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  She lifted her head. “How could you?”

  He sighed and ran his hands up and down her arms. She was shivering—the rain felt cold now that the temperature had finally dropped.

  “Come on, let’s get back in the truck and go home.” It was raining harder now. The drops felt like ice on her bare skin. He helped her down and urged her into the passenger’s seat. Reaching down behind the seat, he pulled out an old blanket and tucked it around her.

  “Your truck is going to get soaked,” she said, buckling in as he gathered their clothes off the ground.

  “I don’t give a shit about the seats.” He pulled on his muddy boxers and tossed the rest of their soggy clothes into a heap at her feet.

  She bit her lip and watched as he gingerly buckled the seatbelt around his hips. Neither of them spoke during the short ride to the cabin. It wasn’t until he’d put their clothes into his dryer and toweled off that John answered her question.

  “I know what it’s like when you feel as if you have no control over your life. I know what that does to you,” he said, settling her into his warm bed. He tugged the
comforter up over her shoulders.

  Liselle snuggled into his warmth, laying her head on his good shoulder. The fresh bandage on his side tickled her arm. “I hate that feeling,” she murmured.

  He kissed her head. “Me too.” He shifted, slipping a leg between hers. “That’s what it felt like when my commanding officer ordered me to abandon my team. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “You know. I went back anyway, of course. Crashed bad.” He ran a finger down his scar then shrugged. “It was worth it. Sometimes you have to do things that don’t make any sense to other people.”

  “Be true to yourself,” Liselle murmured, only half teasing.

  “Yeah, stupid as that sounds,” he agreed.

  She thought about her father and her brother and how hard it had been to escape them. “I tried to hide, but they always found me. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  John shifted underneath her, hands on her hips, turning her so that she sprawled over him. She gasped as his cock stirred against her pussy, lengthening as she settled herself over his hips. John traced a finger over her lips.

  “And sometimes there’s nothing you can do to control what happens. I couldn’t keep the damn chopper in the air. I couldn’t help what happened to my shoulder.” He kissed her fingers, hips moving in subtle circles beneath her, rubbing arousal into her pores. “You had no control over what your father and brother did. Getting away from them was the right thing to do. And you survived.”

  He punctuated his words with his cock, sparking pleasure along her nerves.

  “John—” she gasped, clutching his biceps. His muscles moved under her hands as she held on. He thrust harder, the slickness of her arousal coating his dick. The tip bumped past her clit as he stared up at her, body working to bring her pleasure.