by T Steele
“Nixon?” Ella says my name, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“I promise you’re not him, and I know for a fact that you’ll never be him,” she says, with complete sincerity. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut, because the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.
“How do you know?” I whisper, and I hate the vulnerability in my tone.
She presses her lips to mine for a brief kiss and then smiles at me. “You care so much about others. You’re so kind and good. I feel like you’re too good for me sometimes—”
“Come on, Ella, seriously?” I roll my eyes. There’s no way that could ever be possible.
Now she looks angry, and I cock my head to the side, raising a brow at her. Then, she sighs.
“How about we’re both equal and good enough for each other?” she says.
“Do you see me as an equal?” I ask, studying her.
“Of course! I always have. Sorry if I had a hard time showing it.” She gives me a half-smile. “But Nixon?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you trust me?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, causing the silky strands of her hair to fall onto my chest.
“Of course,” I answer immediately.
“Then please trust me when I say you’ll never be him.”
I take a deep breath. It will take time, trying not to see myself as him, but I feel lighter. Ella’s words were like a soothing balm against the battered wounds of my past. If someone like Ella, who didn’t trust easily, could trust me and say those words to someone like me…then there must be some truth to them.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
She nods, looking relieved.
“Thank you,” I whisper to her, kissing her lips.
“You’re welcome.” Her arms tighten around me.
“Ella?”
“Hmm?” she hums against my chest.
“It will work out, okay?” I tell her.
“How do you know?” she asks.
“Because I will make sure of it. I have a lot of money saved up. I’ll hire bodyguards, detectives, lawyers, whatever is needed. We’re not just going to sit quietly. We’re going to fight and deal with this, because I’m not going to give up, and I know you’re not either. You’re strong, Ella. So, so strong, and you’re going to make it through this, okay?”
Her lip quivers and she rests her head back on my chest, squeezing me like I’m her lifeline. And I let her, holding her just as tight, and we stay like that for a while.
***
Ella makes chocolate chip pancakes while wearing my oversized t-shirt, and I never realized how sexy it could be for someone else to wear my clothes, but it is. Her smooth, shapely legs distract me the entire time she moves about the kitchen, and then she’s delivering a plate full of huge pancakes. She even made a smiley face on them with whipped cream. When she bends down to put the plate in front of me, I get a full view of her breasts and lick my lips for another reason besides the breakfast food.
She sits on my lap and kisses my lips. “See something you like?” she asks seductively, but she still blushes and fuck me if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
When she feels my erection pressing against her sex, she smiles brightly, her cheeks reddening even more. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughs.
“More like a fuck yes,” I say deeply.
She turns around, then cuts a piece of the pancake and feeds it to me.
When she cuts another piece, she acts like she’s going to put it in my mouth. Instead, she switches directions, putting it in her own mouth, all the while laughing at the expression on my face.
“I thought this was all for me,” I say.
She laughs and forks up another bite, and when it’s almost touching my mouth, she does it again, feeding it to herself instead and laughing loudly.
I hurriedly move the plate out of the way and lift her, setting her onto the table before spreading her legs and caging her in my arms.
She gasps. “Nixon!”
“If you won’t feed me, guess I’ll have to feed myself,” I say, bending down and moving her underwear to the side.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her flute lying on the table. I still can’t believe she brought the damn thing on this trip, but she’d insisted playing calmed her. An idea pops into my head. I pick it up and hand it to her. “Maybe you could play me a tune while I eat my breakfast?” I ask, licking my lips.
Her appearance is already disheveled, and when she bites her lip and grabs the instrument from me, I know we’re about to make an unforgettable morning.
She brings it to her pretty pink lips, inhaling deeply before pursing her lips and exhaling, and a lovely melody filters throughout the cabin.
And then, I dig in. I keep my eyes on hers while I swoop down and lick the length of her.
“Mmm…” I say huskily. “What a great breakfast. So healthy.” I smile as the flute makes a harsh noise.
I grin and get back to work, flattening my tongue against her clit, moving it around and around. The noises of the flute echo louder, and I slide a finger inside her entrance. She cries out, and I hear the instrument clatter to the table.
I would chuckle, but I don’t want to disrupt the pleasure I know is coming to her. When I feel her clench against my face, I hum in approval. While she’s lost in her bliss, I quickly grab the condom I stashed in my sweatpants, pull them down and sheath my length. She’s still quivering from aftershocks as I stand to my full height, and slam my cock into her.
The soft mewling noises coming out of her mouth spur me on, and in a moment of desperation, I rip the shirt she’s wearing in half so that I can see her lovely full breasts bouncing with each thrust. I cup them in my hands and gently tug at her nipples, trying to give her all the pleasure I can, and she curses. I cradle her head, laying her down flat on the table before plowing into her hard, moving the kitchen table a few feet. The sound of the wooden legs scraping against the floor makes me feel even more urgency for us to reach our release. I make sure to circle my hips every time I thrust into her, and then we reach that state of euphoric bliss together.
Chapter 25
Ella
Nixon and I have spent the day lounging around. I made us breakfast. We talked, we laughed, we did…other things, and now we’re watching the stars tonight on this chilly fall evening, out on the balcony attached to the bedroom. There are two lounge chairs that we pushed together, and I lay with my head on Nixon’s chest. The stars are bright and beautiful, reminding me of Nixon’s eyes.
I fiddle with the fabric of Nixon’s shirt, taking a deep inhale. He always smells so masculine, and I can’t help pulling him to me a little tighter. It’s a thrill that I can do this now. That we’ve grown so close and comfortable with one another. What I have now with Nixon is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. It’s priceless and all-encompassing. I’m in love with him. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I know that I would do anything for him—even if it meant putting my own life on the line for him. I’d do it.l.
“Thanks again for bringing me here,” I say quietly into the night air.
He kisses my forehead as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he says, just as quietly.
So much warmth envelops me at his words. Like he’s already put together all my broken parts, and now he just keeps lifting me higher and higher until I’ll eventually shine like one of these stars out here tonight. That’s how he makes me feel, at least.
“You know I’d do anything for you, too, right?” I ask, because if he doesn’t know by now, then I need to tell him.
“Even eat mustard straight from the jar?” he asks
I giggle and lightly swat at his chest. “Yes, even that.”
His chest vibrates from the timber of his laugh. “Yes. I do know,” he says. Then he gets serious. “Do you know what that constellation is?” Nixon says, pointing to a cluster of
stars.
I squint. “No, do you?”
His hands play idly with my hair. “Come on, Ella. You seriously don’t know it? It’s the most important one!” he says enthusiastically, like a small child.
I laugh. “No! Just tell me!”
“Alright, drum roll, please.” Nixon mimics the sound of a drum roll, his fingers beating against my ribs, tickling me. I shriek, falling into hysterics until Nixon finally calls out, “It’s called The Big Ella!”
I’m still cracking up from the tickling, but manage to wheeze out, “Wait, what? That’s not a thing,” before I continue to laugh.
“Yep. It is now. Just made it up. I told you it was the most important one!”
When I calm down, I nuzzle into him, butterflies filling my stomach. “Well, then it should’ve been called The Big Nixon.”
He chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry, I gave me one too. See the bigger one beside The Big Ella?”
“Mhm,” I say, smiling so wide my face hurts.
“That’s me,” he says, nodding his head seriously with wide eyes.
“So, we’re stars now? We’re balls of gas?” I ask him, my fingers tracing the tattoos up his arms.
“No, we’re the pretty ones with the points that children draw in coloring books. Duh, Ella,” he says dramatically.
“Right. My bad,” I say.
We hold each other a little tighter.
Tonight’s our last night here, and neither of us wants to end by bringing up the negativity of what’s waiting for us back home, or how we’re going to deal with it. So, we stay silent, enjoying the moment, and basking in each other’s embrace.
And when we lay down for bed that night, we’re happy.
***
It feels like something is shaking.
The disorienting haze of sleep is still blanketed over my mind, and I burrow back into my pillow. This bed is so comfy. I’m just dreaming. Probably one of those dreams where it feels like you’re falling.
But then something soft runs along my bare arm, and I slap myself.
Just a bug.
Suddenly, my face comes in contact with something. The carpet? And then pain registers. My eyes pop open before blinking rapidly, and I quickly realize I’ve fallen out of bed and onto the floor. But that’s nothing compared to the sight in front of me. What I see is my very own personal hell.
It’s Tackett.
My worst nightmare.
He’s found us.
A loud booming noise erupts. Gunshots. He’s got a gun.
Where’s Nixon?! My still sleep-riddled mind panics.
Then I see him—he’s on the bed, tied up with those intricate fishing ropes, just like the girls in the pictures. Both of his hands are tied to the headboard, and now there’s a bloodied gunshot wound to one of his legs. How the hell did he get Nixon tied up like this?
Nixon yells in pain, flailing on the bed. “You worthless fucking son of a bitch!” he seethes, but his words sound slurred.
A sob rips from my throat. Why does his voice sound that way? Did Tackett drug him?
“What have you done?” My voice comes out broken, and Nixon’s head swivels toward me, with Tackett’s gun still trained on him. Nixon’s face is panicked and terrified, an expression I never thought I’d see on his face. Sweat drips down his skin, and he blinks rapidly as if he’s trying to focus on me, and I cry harder. He has been drugged.
This is all my fault! Why did I ever drag him into my mess?
“Just come with me, Ella,” Tackett says, staring daggers at Nixon, rage and disgust mixed all over his face. “He’ll finally get what he deserves since he’s deprived me of you so long. Always ruining my plans.”
Phone. Where’s my phone?
“Ella!” Tackett yells, and I flinch hard.
My eyes meet his, and his beady little eyes are crazed and wild. “Come with me now, and I won’t kill him.” He nods his head to Nixon, who still struggles against his binds.
The living room. My phone is in the living room. I must’ve left it on the coffee table.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll come. You don’t have to hurt him.” My face is sticky and hot with tears, and I don’t look at Nixon. Because seeing him like this is breaking me, and I don’t want to give Tackett any more ammunition than he already has to hurt him.
When I get closer to Tackett, he grabs my arm and shoves me in front of him.
Nixon growls. “If you fucking hurt her, I’ll kill you!” This time, I do look at Nixon, and subtly shake my head. I don’t want him to egg Tackett on. I just want him away from Nixon. I can’t have Nixon getting hurt more than he already is.
And I know Nixon needs immediate help or he’ll bleed out. His face is pale and clammy with sweat, and he’s lying in a puddle of his own blood.
Tackett laughs evilly, pushing me once more, and I start walking. He makes me walk in front of him down the stairs, and if I had any fighting experience whatsoever, I’d try to push him down them.
When we reach the bottom of the steps, my eyes dart around frantically, and it feels as if my heartbeat is in my ears. My body trembles, and I’m surprised I haven’t gone into a full-blown panic attack.
Could I simply just run?
Tackett couldn’t possibly be in the best shape, maybe I can outrun him?
He does have a gun, though…
But with his attachment to me, will he shoot?
Instead of thinking things through, which would have been the smart thing to do, I panic. My terror is finally catching up to me and coming out full force. I swing my arm around in an arc and hit Tackett hard on the side of his face, then take off running.
My feet pound on the tile of the kitchen floor and then the carpet as I reach my destination. I spot my phone and pick it up, ready to dial, but then his voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“Freeze.”
I do. It’s like I can’t help myself. A compulsion that I can’t break.
A whimper escapes my lips. He’d gotten to me so quickly, I’d only made it to the living room. I hate him. I hate him so much. If looks could kill, my glare would definitely do just that.
Tackett stares me down angrily, his gun pointed at me, but I can tell he doesn’t have a lot of confidence with weaponry. In this close range, though, I wouldn’t want to test it. So I stay standing, completely still.
At least Nixon isn’t here, but he’s injured and he needs medical attention immediately. God, he’s up there all alone. Just thinking of him, my heart feels like it’s splintering in two.
“Why?” I croak out, trying to stall, but so terrified that I don’t even know how to begin.
“Because you are the one, Ella. Don’t you feel this connection between us? After all this time?” he smiles, his round glasses rising with the motion. “You remind me so much of your aunt.”
“My aunt?” I frown. Realization dawning on me the same time his nasally voice begins speaking once more.
“Your aunt. Roxanne. She was…” he trails off, a manic gleam in his eye. “She was everything. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt,” he says frantically. “But I just—I think what I felt for her was too strong and powerful. I don’t think it was meant for this world. Maybe the afterlife? Yes, perhaps then it would do. But I think in this life, you would be my best fit.”
He knew my aunt. My aunt, who disappeared and was never found.
Anger rushes through me. “What did you do to her?”
Sadness enters his eyes, and it looks genuine, making me want to strangle him more than I already did. How could someone be so delusional?
“You sick fuck!” I scream when he continues to stare at me with what looks like grief in his eyes. “What did you do to her?!”
“If wanting love makes me a sick fuck, then so be it,” he says angrily. “I only wanted her to love me, and when I confronted her with my love, she denied me and laughed at me! Now her body rests at the bottom of Mercer Lake.”
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth. My cheeks
are wet with tears, and I start glancing around the room, looking for yet another way to escape. But then Tackett takes a step toward me and I yelp, jumping back. He stops his movements, and I stop mine. “You didn’t even wear her necklace that I gifted to you!” he says, furious.
“Her necklace?” I shriek at the same time the memory comes crashing back of the first note he had left me with a golden necklace. “That was hers?” I whisper raggedly.
“Yes,” he smiles, as if he’s given me a wonderful gift.
It feels like I can’t get enough air into my lungs and powerful tremors rack my body. How could someone be so fucked up? My vision is blurry with tears, and I hastily wipe at my face. I need to get away from him, and I can’t do that if I can’t see.
“I won’t make that mistake again, Ella.” His voice causes me to start and my head jerks toward him. “I promise. I won’t hurt you, but you have to love me. You have to feel it like I do. I still remember the way you looked in the pictures.” He licks his lips. “And you’re even more gorgeous now. I know we could be great together. I can give you everything you want. I have money.” His words are spoken fast, and revulsion ripples through me in giant shock waves. This is my worst nightmare coming true and I need to act and do something. But I can’t. I just stand here frozen.
But then I see it in my peripheral. A fire poker. It’s only about two feet away. If I grab it and hit him with it, I could likely get away, call the police, and hide until they get here.
Is it the best plan in the world? No. But it’s all I’ve got at the moment.
“Come on, Ella. The gregarious and kind girl is still in there somewhere. I know I could give you things no one else could. Just give me a chance.” He takes a step closer, and that’s all it takes.
I act.
Grabbing the poker, I hit him in the shoulder, knocking him down, and then I run. Too afraid and shocked to do anything else, I sprint out the door and into the woods. I pass Nixon’s truck and mentally slap myself for not thinking of getting the keys.