by Jayce, Aven
“Shh. It’s going to be okay. Paul does this sometimes. He’ll probably be nice to everyone in the morning. He just feels threatened. We won’t be here forever. I know that for a fact. Trust me.”
I sob in his arms and he sets soft kisses on the top of my head.
“Soph, look at me.”
I tilt my head and look into his eyes. He wipes the tears off my cheeks and puts a peaceful kiss on my lips.
“I’m going to take care of things tomorrow. I know my mother very well and I have an idea of what to look for at the party. Wait for it. You’ll see it too. A distraction. She’s good at making a scene. Just wait.”
“Cove?” I whisper in a shaken voice. “I’m not like him, am I?”
“God, Soph. No… I wouldn’t be standing here next to you if you were anything like him. You’re the complete opposite. He did you a favor by leaving when you were young. You’re so different from him because he wasn’t around you when you were growing up. I don’t know who your role models were, but thank fucking God it wasn’t Paul. You didn’t pick up any of his traits, none of his habits or actions. Not an ounce. You’re your own person. I promise you that. I told you I knew the real Paul Jameson. This is what I meant. He’s violent, and not all there… he’s missing a few pieces. That’s why you’ve seen me submit to him, and why I’m still stuck in this life.”
I hold him close and take deep breaths. Cove stopped my panic attack, and I’m calmer than I was, but still scared of being in this house, scared of my father and Dayne, of leaving the room tomorrow, and of what will take place at the party.
“I can’t lose you, Cove. Be careful tomorrow night, I need you in one piece.”
He kisses the tip of my nose and we walk over to the sofa. I stretch my feet out on the coffee table and he wraps his arm over my shoulder.
“Let’s stop talking about the party, Soph,” he says softly into my ear.
“I should’ve told Devery we were locked in the house.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. One less thing to worry about. Besides, she’s smart enough to know something’s going on. We haven’t had our phones in days, or any communication with the outside world for that matter. It’ll be obvious to those who care for us that something’s wrong. I bet my father even knows. He was beat up a week ago and I haven’t been in contact with him in all that time. Not in an entire week. He knows.”
Tears well in Cove’s eyes, he wipes them, and tries to hold in his emotions. I straddle his hips and take his chin in my hand. He closes his eyes so I won’t see how overwhelmed he is at this moment; how lost and hurt he feels.
“Babe, don’t lock your emotions away from me, or yourself. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m okay.”
“Cove?”
“I’ll be okay. I choked up for a moment thinking about my father. He’s been in that cell for seven long, hard years.”
This time, a tear rolls down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away or deny that it’s there. Another falls, and then another.
“That’s only a third of his sentence, Soph.”
His voice wavers and cracks as he speaks.
“I won’t be able to hold him… wrap my arms around him until I’m almost forty.”
He pauses and takes a moment to clear his throat. I kiss his eyes and more tears fall.
“Cove,” I whisper. “I wish I knew what to say. I know no words can soothe that pain, or heal what your family’s been through.”
I take his hands and kiss his palms, then rest them against my chest. He slides them to my back, leans forward, and presses his lips to mine. We hold one another close, no movement, no French kissing, or nibbling, bites, or roaming of hands, just our warm, soft lips touching one another. I exhale as he lifts me from the sofa, my arms and legs around his body as he carries me to the bed. He lays me down, pulls off his shirt, and looks into my eyes.
“I’d like to make love to you, Sophia. I need this pain I feel to go away, and normally I’d have a drink, but I know you want me to cut back on all of that. Can I fuck you? Will you help me forget about everything else?” he says in a soft voice. “I need you. I want to feel you and only you, nothing else.”
I slide out of my shirt and crawl under the comforter. Cove follows, covers our heads with the sheet, and quickly slides his tongue in my mouth while touching my clit. I moan and reach into his boxers for his length, fondling the tip with my fingers and using his pre-cum drips to lubricate the area. Our tongues race faster and his body covers mine. My legs open and he wastes no time in powering himself inside; his boxers only partway down. We both let out passionate, pleasurable, cries, and he bites my neck over to my ear.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs, as he throws his hips forward and charges his cock quickly, fervently, in and out. His breath smells of alcohol and I taste salt from his tears as I kiss his cheeks. He’s fierce and abrupt, like a storm that rolls across a field in a matter of seconds, breaking long blades of grass with hail and heavy wind. It’s not excitement, or delight that radiates from his body, but rather an act of diversion from the day. I let him have it. The moment. The time he needs for his thoughts to be consumed and transformed into something more beautiful. His cock is devilish, fiendish, and punishing. He kneels, grabs my ass with both hands, and slams harder into me. I cry out at his possessed state.
“Cove, you’re lost. Come back to me,” I demand in a huff, while placing my hands on his chest.
He immediately slows as he recognizes his assault on, and in, my body.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
His movements stop and he lies over my chest while his lips gently touch mine in a loving gesture. The alcohol on his breath is stronger than before as our air mingles under the sheet. I’ve only had scotch twice in my life and I remember how potent it was, leaving me shitfaced, on my ass, and poor Mera taking care of me for the night. He’s drunk.
“I’m sorry I tied your wrists to that cage and the things that came out of my mouth when we were in the Keep. You know that wasn’t me, it was the bidders; I had to submit to them.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, Soph. Forgive me,” he whispers. “I can’t believe we were in that room together and I didn’t have the balls to stop it immediately. I’m not a man, just like your father always says, I’m nothing but a monster.”
“Cove. It’s okay,” I say, with my hands on the side of his face. “Just stay with me. Look at me.” I push the sheet off our heads so he can see my face. “Don’t be the sad drunk.”
“You think I’m drunk?” he smiles. “I only had three glasses of scotch.”
“And a half bottle of wine earlier, and the bottle Trey gave you, plus the two beers at dinner. Not the best combination. How can you keep it all down?”
“Practice. I’m not drunk. Just depressed, but thanks for bringing me back to reality. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No. But you didn’t pleasure me either. Pay attention. I’m not a blow up doll, you know.”
“No,” he laughs and shakes his head. “Not even close.”
I shoot him a confused look and he changes the conversation as an indication that I shouldn’t ask.
“So… you need me to pay attention to you like this?” He lifts his waist, places his fingers over my clit, and begins to circle the area. “Or, would you like me to pay attention to you like this?” His warm tongue slides under mine and around. “Baby, you’re still nice and wet around my dick, perhaps you’d like some attention deep inside?” Little by little he slides out and I rock hurriedly into him before his length can disappear.
“Keep it in there,” I whisper.
Gradually, he starts to pull out again.
“Come back,” I whine.
He grins at how easily I’m tormented by his withdrawal. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” I exhale. “I must have you… my way.” I lean forward, reach my hand out, and search around the comforter until I feel the beaded necklace under my
fingers. I run the beads across my open mouth and Cove’s cock twitches inside.
“That’s so fucking hot, Soph. My dick feels teased, what are you gonna do with it?”
I bite down on a bead, my tongue rolls around the pearl, and I giggle as he licks his lips.
“Still teasing. You want me to put it inside of you, back here?” he asks, as he moves a finger to my ass.
“I’m assuming there’s lube in this room?” I ask.
Cove reaches to the drawer of the nightstand and pulls out a small bottle. I take it from his hand, place the string of beads across my breasts, and squeeze a generous amount of liquid on them.
“Pull out for me.”
He sends an inquisitive eye my way but follows orders, his cock out and resting on my stomach. I place lube in my palm and glide it over his shaft. A sigh and then a moan leave his mouth and echoes through the room.
“Now I’m very curious. What’s your plan, Baby?”
My finger rests on his lips to silence him. “Shh.” I wrap the beads around his length multiple times, covering it from top to bottom, holding it snug at the end. His eyes widen in delight and I enjoy how easily he’s amused. The beads roll and slide against his flesh and he whispers his appreciation.
“Holy shit… I love how playful you are all the time. Oh. Fuck, Soph.” He bites his lip and clutches the comforter as I roll and spin the beads along his cock. “Ah, what the hell are you doing to me? You have to stop… I’m gonna cum… don’t make me cum yet. We just started.”
“Maybe you need to think about football, and not these round, wet, pearls, twirling over your sensitive flesh. Hmm? Maybe then you’ll be able to last a little longer.”
“Oh, fuck,” he gasps. “Stop teasing me.”
I stop, release my hand, and the beads unravel and bunch at the base of his length. I laugh as he rapidly encases it with the necklace, and sets my hand back on the pearls in a silent request for more.
“I was only kidding, no need to stop.”
“Actually Babe, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Can you hold out for a few more minutes?”
“Yeah, a few, but this is pretty intense so don’t expect me to go all night,” he grins. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Me either, and I want to feel it too.” I slide upward, still holding him in my hand, and position his wrapped crown between my legs. He slowly enters as I hold the beads until he’s in. We pause, give one another a passionate kiss, and exhale.
“I’ll go as slow as I can,” he whispers. “I don’t want them to unravel inside of you, but I can’t promise anything.”
Gradually he retreats and advances back in. The beads roll against my G-spot and I cry out in pure bliss. His eyes are focused on mine, his mouth slightly open, hair mussed, moving unhurriedly, deliberately, in slow and tender waves. He wants me to come. The pressure inside is purposely set for my most sensitive areas. I don’t know how he does it. How he finds that spot each time, even now with the beads between us. My body’s rigid and I’m close.
“Ohh… I can’t believe how amazing this feels,” he whispers. “Soph, you getting close? I won’t last.”
“Don’t stop,” I say softly. “Please,” I pant.
He moves slower than he ever has, the beads swirl and slide with him. I hold my breath. My waist pushes up against him and his groin rubs over my clit. Double pleasure. I’m done for.
I grip his arms and squeeze, my eyes shut, my body tenses.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck. Come, Baby. Do it.”
My clit erupts and an explosion of pleasure shoots through me, down my arms and legs, and further inside. The beads roll, and I cry out. Cove moves, and I cry out. He kisses my neck, my ears, my mouth, and I tremble. An erotic dance pulsates under my skin and inside my deepest space. He glides in and out with greater speed until I can tell he’s about to come. His breaths are short and loud.
“Pull out,” I whisper.
His hips jerk back and part of the necklace unravels as he withdraws. My hands wrap around the beads that are still on him and I roll them quickly up and down along his cock.
“Sophia,” he gasps. “That’s it. Make me cum.”
My hand slows after the first shot lands on my chest. He cries out again and moans with pleasure. “Oh fuck… more.”
My hand slides and with each tug forward another shot hits my abdomen. When there’s only a dribble left on his tip he collapses on the bed, with the beads pulling quickly out of my body in a swift jolt. My body twitches and small spasms slowly wane as my orgasm ends.
“Whoa,” Cove huffs. “Shit, that was unbelievable. Best missionary sex I’ve ever had.”
“Cove,” I laugh. “We’ve only been doing it for like a week.” My legs and arms wrap around his body and I squeeze him tight.
“Yeah, like I said, best ever.”
We laugh and hold one another. Our kisses are intimate, warm, and tender as we embrace for hours into the night. The house is silent. Unnervingly quiet.
The calm before the storm.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I didn’t know your father was in the same fraternity as my dad. I thought they met at a reunion party at the Rosen’s house. Your mother’s a Rosen, so I understand why you guys were there, but your father had actually known Paul for years.”
The morning sun is rising and bright light flickers across the bathroom mirror and green glass sinks. I tie my robe, put Cove’s razor and shaving cream away, and place toothpaste on my toothbrush as he steps out of the shower and dries off.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father. I saw him in a photo my father has in his living room. It was shot in front of the fraternity house where my dad lived when he attended college in Philadelphia. Devery had told me they were all best friends and college roommates, but I didn’t realize your father was there as well.”
“He wasn’t. My parents attended school in St. Louis. Devery, Dayne, and Doron all went to Temple University because it’s their parents’ alma mater… where they studied law. That’s where they met your father, but not mine. Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him. You only saw him once and his face was badly swollen and bruised.”
“No. It was your father. The person in the photo looked just like you.”
“I want to see it,” he says in a frantic voice. “I need to see it now.”
Cove wraps a towel around his waist and I lead him from the bedroom suite, down the hallway, and to the living room. The house is quiet, thank God. It’s only eight o’clock and hopefully Dayne and Mera will sleep in, while my father’s probably already at work. After the horrific events of yesterday, I’m in no mood to see either one of them, but I know, since the party is only hours away, we’ll be together again soon enough.
“Over there.” I point to a line of black-framed photographs on one of the bookcases. He walks over to them hurriedly and searches for the fraternity shot. He picks up one of the frames and studies it for a moment before I see his shoulders relax as if a huge weight has been lifted. He turns and smiles, holding the photograph, apparently thrilled that I had been mistaken.
“Not him. Fuck, my heart stopped for a moment. My entire world would’ve crumbled if that were true, if my father had lied to me about his entire past.”
I look at the photo and shake my head, it’s not the one I saw the other day.
“What?” he asks.
“This photo only has eight people in it. The one I saw had close to thirty, like it was before a big party. Everyone was standing around a keg in front of the fraternity house.”
I look at the photos on the shelf and hand him the one I’m referring to. He takes it with trembling hands. I watch his face change from a red flushed look from just getting out of the shower, to pale white as the blood rushes out.
“What the fuck is this?” he whispers, closing his eyes for a second and then opening them again to see if the image disappeared. “What the fuck is this?” his voice louder, h
is knuckles white as he clutches the frame.
“Morning kiddos,” my father says as he straightens his tie, buttons his suit jacket, and walks through the room toward the stairs.
Please Cove. Please don’t say anything. Let’s talk about it first. Don’t say anything to my father. Please.
Cove throws the frame against the wall, the glass shatters, and the frame snaps in half. He lunges at my father, swings, and strikes him in the jaw; the same place Dayne hit him last night. My father places one hard stomp on Cove’s heavily stitched foot and wraps a hand around his neck.
“Dad,” I whisper. “Don’t.”
My father looks at me, his black oxford still pressing into bare skin. I can hear small mutters and groans coming from Cove as he lowers his fist and submits.
“What seems to be the problem on this beautiful morning, kids?”
I walk up to my father and place my hand over his, a silent request to release his grip and step back. I’m shocked when he complies, and Cove is freed. He falls to the floor with foot in hand and cries out in pain.
“You fucker! Why is my father in that photo with you? When did the two of you meet?” he yells, nearly in tears.
Why did I show him the photo? Why couldn’t I have just pretended I made a mistake? Soph, you idiot.
“Paul, tell me. Tell me what the fuck’s going on!” he cries out.
I hear Dayne’s track door slide open and he runs into the room wearing a pair of boxers, holding a gun. He looks down at Cove, to me, and then at my father. “I don’t know why I even bothered getting out of bed,” he pants. “I’m not going to protect you anymore, Paul. Not that you need protection from an Everton, but I didn’t know what the hell was going on out here. Now that I see it’s just the three of you bitching, I can go back to bed.” He turns and heads to his part of the house and Cove calls after him.
“Dayne, when did you meet my father?” he says in a voice that pleads for an answer.
Dayne stops and turns around with a questioning look. “At my parents’ reunion party. I remember it specifically because it was the first day Paul took photos of you, which led to NOVA.”