Isa balanced her chin on Sam’s shoulder, glancing at the laptop he was working on. ‘I thought we said no work?’
Sam turned his head to kiss her. ‘Just while you’re painting, I promise.’ He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her more thoroughly. ‘How’s it going?’
She held up paint-daubed fingers. ‘Good. I’d started to forget how blissful it was to just paint and forget everything else.’
Sam grinned. ‘So why’d you stop?’
‘Food.’
He chuckled. ‘Oh, of course.’
He followed her into the kitchen, admiring the sway of her denim skirt covered hips, the golden skin of her legs and bare feet. She wore an oversized white shirt, opened to reveal a white bikini that could barely contain her honey-ripe breasts. There were smears of paint across her bare stomach and streaked through the messy bun of her hair. Sam felt his groin tighten as he watched her flit around the kitchen, pulling together some food for them. She glanced up at him to catch his admiring appraisal and grinned.
‘What are you hungry for, Mister?’
Sam reached for her, but she skipped out of his way, giggling. ‘You are truly insatiable, Mr. Levy.’
He started to protest, but she pulled a chunk of bread off and stuffed it in his mouth. ‘Eat,’ she said, mock-seriously, ‘eat then fuck. That’s what us posh people do.’
‘You have the cutest little potty-mouth,’ but he laughed, enjoying her humor.
She pulled cold cuts from the fridge while he squeezed fresh orange juice. The French windows stood open, allowing the warm air from outside to circulate through the house. Laden with plates they took their feast to the table outside and sat down.
As they ate, she studied him. ‘We’ve been here two weeks already.’
He nodded. ‘I know. And we can stay as long as you like.’
‘The perks of having a rich boyfriend.’
‘The perks.’ He agreed but saw the uncertainty in her eyes. ‘I know it’s important to you that I don’t… how can I say this… make you a ‘kept’ woman – is that it?’
She smiled ruefully. ‘You know me so well. I’m trying to ignore that voice in my head. I‘m reasoning that you owned this island long before I met you so I might as well enjoy it. When we get back to Seattle, however, we need to talk about an equal division of financial responsibilities.’
Sam sighed. He didn’t want to think about going back to the city, going back to whatever craziness was awaiting them there. If he could have his way, they’d never leave this island. He told her that, and she smiled, reaching over to wind her fingers through his.
‘I know how you feel. For now, let’s just wring every minute out of this experience.’
He kissed her then ducked his head, running his tongue over the soft skin of her breast. He grinned as he looked up. ‘You had mayo on your boob.’
She giggled, stroked his face. ‘I do love you, you crazy man.’
He grinned then raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t, you know.’
For a moment she looked confused, hurt. ‘You don’t what? Love me?’
Sam gave a short bark of laughter. ‘No, of course, I love you, sorry. I meant I don’t really know you that well. Isn’t part of what we came here for was to really get to know each other? We seemed to have skipped that part.’
She grinned, and he felt her foot climb his leg, rubbed against his groin. ‘I wonder why?’
He grinned, enjoying the feel of her foot against his cock. He ran his hand up the smooth skin of her calf, and she purred with delight, making him laugh.
‘So,’ she crunched on a celery stick, ‘where do you want to start?’
‘Tell me about your family.’
She rolled her eyes then, discarded the rest of the celery and took a slug of orange juice. ‘Father was an army surgeon, mom a homemaker. Or rather she just did whatever my father told her to. My grandfather was Indian – I think you knew that – and I was born in Pondicherry. Mom went home to give birth because my father was never around.’
Her face gave away her emotions and Sam nodded. ‘So your father was…’
‘…an asshole. That’s right. And that never changed throughout my own childhood. He was abusive, not physically but emotionally, verbally. My mom – and eventually me too – we both excelled academically, and he couldn’t stand that. Couldn’t abide two women being smarter than him, a man.
Sam nodded. ‘Wow, a real asshole.’
Isa nodded, her eyes angry. ‘Yup. Mom would never fight back against his bullshit, and she wasn’t strong enough to protect me so when I was sixteen, I left. He was stationed in Maryland at the time, so I got on the bus that had the farthest destination.’
Sam studied her, watching the myriad of emotions flash across her lovely face, seeing the deep burning anger within her. Isa chewed on her bottom lip.
‘When I applied for legal emancipation, they didn’t fight it. Mom didn’t have it in her to fight him and it. She made her choice. The one good thing my father did was provide me with enough money to rent an apartment to be able to live for a while.’ She drew in a long shaky breath and tried to smile. ‘When I got to Seattle, I was lucky – I found a job as a waitress then applied for a scholarship to UW. I met Zoe when she taught a class. I can’t describe what it felt like to finally have someone interested in me as a person, and not just as someone’s child. She gave me a home, a job and a family. As far as I’m concerned, Zoe Marshall is my mother.’
She fell silent, gazing out at the ocean. Sam brushed his fingertips over her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. ‘I saved my money and paid my father back every penny. I didn’t want to owe him anything.’
Sam nodded, understanding. ‘I get it.’ And he did, he could see the resentment, the hurt in her at her father’s absolute rejection. He scooped her onto his lap, nuzzled her neck as she draped her arms around his. ‘Thanks for telling me about it.’
She sighed deeply. ‘You’re right, remembering the crap stuff is painful. No wonder we didn’t do this before.’ She grinned, and he was relieved to see her good humor return. He pressed his lips to hers, tasting her slowly, tenderly.
‘Hey, let’s ditch the washing up and go play in the ocean.’
She nodded, cupping his cheek with her palm, gazing into his eyes. ‘Deal. But later, it’s your turn to spill your darkest and dysfunctional family secrets.’
Casey Hamilton sat in the darkest corner of the café, endlessly twirling her spoon in her coffee. Her date finally put his hand out to stop her, irritated by the sound of metal on ceramic. He pinched her chin between his fingers, searched her face.
‘Are you strung out?’
She didn’t need to answer him. Her large pupils and endless sips of the table water told him all he needed to know.
She pulled her head away from his grasp. ‘Fuck you. If I didn’t need money, I wouldn’t be here.’
He smiled, took a calm sip of his cappuccino. ‘But you do need money.’
‘What the fuck do you want me to do this time?’
‘Nothing yet.’
She made a disgusted sound.
‘Patience.’
Casey lowered her voice. ‘How long? I mean, how long does it take? Just fucking kill her.’
He laughed. ‘What on earth makes you think I’m going to do that?’
‘I… you told me you were going to hurt…’
‘Exactly. Hurt. Why would I kill her so soon when I can have her first? Especially when you plan on conveniently breaking her heart. She will be hurt. She will be vulnerable. She will give herself to me entirely and then – and only then – will I take her life.’
Casey was aghast. ‘You mean to say that all this was because you want to fuck her? Jesus Christ, what is it with her? That doe-eyed little half-breed whore.’
‘Not fuck. Possess. There’s a difference.’ And his voice made her shiver.
‘Okay. Okay. But what makes you think she’ll… she’s in love with Sam.’
> ‘Casey, really. I never said she had a choice in the matter.’
Casey sighed. ‘So what’s the plan then?’
‘There’s no point in doing anything while they’re away. We wait till they’re settled back home. When they think, they’re safe… you know what to do then.’
Her chin came up then. ‘I could, of course, go tell them everything instead. I wonder how grateful Sam would be that I saved the life of his little paramour?’
He laughed darkly. ‘Casey, dearest Casey, if you think Sam Levy would ever fuck you again, you are seriously deluded.’
‘Fuck you.’
His smile disappeared. ‘You do, remember? I showed you the tenderness he never could. But even a whisper to him will see the end of my patience, Casey. I have no compunction about slitting your throat.’
She curled her hands into fists to stop them trembling. ‘Do you kill all the women you fuck?’
He smiled. ‘No. But in your case, it’s more like trash disposal than murder.’
‘Bastard.’ She hissed the words, spraying him with spittle. He wiped his face and, pulling her towards him and ground his mouth on hers.
‘You have nothing to worry about, Casey, if you kept your pretty mouth shut. The only person I want to use my knife on is Isabel Flynn. I’m going to gut her slowly, watch the agony on that beautiful face, and listen to her struggle for breath. That is my endgame, Casey; I won’t take it lightly if you fuck with that.’
Casey began to smile. ‘Twisted.’ She glanced out at the damp Seattle streets, imagining Sam’s face when he found Isa’s body. ‘Do me a favor?’
‘What?’
‘Before you kill her, do whatever you can do to make my ex-husband’s life a living hell.’
His laugh was intimate. ‘I promise.’
The evening air cooled, brought with it the heady scents of the ocean, the flora of the island. Flickering candles around the room cast their skin in a warm glow as they moved together. Isa slid her mouth over the crest of Sam’s penis, massaging his sac gently as her other hand worked slowly up and down the length of him. She listened to his ragged breathing, felt his hands tangle in her hair as she pleasured him. Under her touch, his cock swelled, quivered, and she felt him groan as she flicked her tongue around the wide sensitive head. His hand clenched, fisting into her hair, his entire body jerking with the force of his arousal.
‘Jesus… Isa… please…’
Isa grinned, her lips curving into a smile around his cock. He wanted to plunge into her, she knew, but she was unrelenting, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked him to an explosive peak.
‘Let me taste you…’ He hissed, breathless, and she moved around him, gasping as he buried his face in her, his tongue delving deep into her sex, probing the hypersensitive tissues. God, the feel of him…. Isa came as he did, his hot, salty semen pumping onto her tongue as her limbs liquefied. Sam flipped her onto her back and drove his still diamond hard cock into her, pushing her legs up to her chest, hooking her ankles over his shoulders. He bit into her neck, her shoulders, and his hands molding themselves around her breasts as she shuddered and gasped beneath him. She gripped his short hair as he caught her mouth with his, his tongue massaging hers, exploring her mouth as if he wanted to consume her. Her body tensed through another overwhelming orgasm, and she tilted her hips, spread her legs further as he drove into her. At her suggestion, they had both shaved and now the feeling silky skin-on-skin as she took him in, right to the root of his cock was incredible, a new way of connecting, of loving.
She felt the wet, scorching pulse of his cum filling her, and kissed him even as he gasped for air.
‘Stay inside me,’ she whispered to him, watching his face contort with ecstasy, with love for her. He nodded, smiling as he shivered. She tightened her legs around him, her vaginal muscles contracting around his cock. ‘I want to feel you getting hard while you’re in me.’
He chuckled breathlessly and brushed her lips with his. ‘You keep clenching like that; you’ll feel something alright.’
They both laughed as she tightened her grip on his cock. ‘Christ, Isa… what the hell did I do before I met you?’
She smiled, but there was an edge to it. ‘We haven’t had that conversation yet. The exes.’
Sam’s smile flickered. ‘Can we not have it while my dick is deep inside you?’
She grinned good-naturedly, pretended to consider. ‘Yeah, okay.’
‘You divine little tease.’
She chuckled wickedly. ‘Little cock-tease, I think you mean.’ She increased the pressure on him, and he groaned. He smoothed her hair back from her face, trailing his lips across her soft, dewy skin.
‘I love you, Miss Flynn. One day, I’d like to call you Mrs. Levy.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Sam… I…’
He pressed his lips to hers to silence her. ‘Don’t panic, I’m not asking that question yet. You’re not ready, I know. We’re not ready. But I want you to know that one day, I will ask it.’
She trailed her fingers up and down his spine, smiling at him. ‘And I want you to know, that when you do, I’ll say yes. Hell yes. Fuck yes. Just not yet.’
He grinned. ‘I can live with that.’
She could feel his cock stiffening inside her, swelling to fill her, and as he began to move, the slickness of his cum inside her excited her as he slid in and out of her.
‘Can we stay in this moment forever?’ She asked, and he nodded, his clear green eyes full of love for her.
‘And ever,’ and he kissed her as if it was the first time.
The nightmares returned that night. He was eight and padding barefoot through the family mansion at night. It was hot, stiflingly hot and sticky, a deep blue Louisiana summer night. All the windows had been thrown open, the sultry air bringing no relief from the heat, just making the drapes billow and dance. He could see figures behind them, shadowy figures that hissed and spat as he ran past them, mocking him. The floor seemed to melt to his little feet, making the sticky, hard to lift.
He could hear the screams from the other end of the hallway, the ripping of delicate fabric, see the light flickering in his mother’s room, and smell the blood.
The blood?
Dragging his legs, he managed to stagger to the doorway, knowing what he would see when he got there. The man, with his hands around his mother’s throat, squeezing the life from her, his face contorted with the most violent, passionate love he had ever seen. Love and horror in one inexorable dance. He would see his mother, his kind, wonderful, beautiful mommy, crumple to the floor, her eyes open and staring, her face purple, her tongue lolling out of her pale, blue lips and oh God, he would run to her and beg her to breathe, to live…
But it wasn’t his mother this time, and he was no longer eight years old, but a full grown man and the murderer had a knife and was laughing as he stabbed Isa, who lay across the work table in her studio, her blood pouring from her as her killer gutted her. She turned her head to stare at him, in her eyes, agony, betrayal, disappointment.
‘You didn’t save me, Sam.’ And he fell to his knees at her accusation watching her being murdered again and again and again…
Sam woke, dragging air into his lungs, panting out a rhythmic ‘No…No…. No…’ He rubbed his eyes with the pads of his forefinger and thumb then looked around. The panic rose in him again.
The bed beside him was empty.
Cursing loudly, he shot from the bed, running through the villa, calling for her, adrenalin racing through him in burning spikes.
Then he saw her, her confused, concerned, beautiful, living face, as she stood in the hallway outside her studio, in her pajama pants with a spaghetti strap tee, her hair tumbling down her back, her dark eyes like a startled doe. He drank in the sight of her and swept her up in a crushing hug, his entire body trembling. Isa stroked his hair.
‘What is it, baby? What’s wrong?’
He suddenly found his legs were giving way and they tumbled to the flo
or in a heap. Isa got her arms around him, pulling his head to her chest, rocking him, trying to calm him. Sam’s breathing started to stabilize, the feel of her in his arms the balm to his shattered nerves. He couldn’t speak for a while, so she just held him, kissing his temple.
Eventually, he pulled away, smiled sheepishly. ‘Sorry. Bad dream. And then I woke up; you were gone.’
She ran a finger down his aquiline nose. ‘Dopey. Sorry, I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d do some work.’ She passed a hand over his forehead, pushing his damp curls back. ‘What was the nightmare about? You’ve had a few since we’ve been together and…’
‘What?’ He frowned. He could only recall having one since they’d met – the night he’d been away, and she’d collapsed. The night Cal had taken her to the hospital, and he’d gone from a nightmare to a waking one.
Isa nodded. ‘You don’t usually wake up, just thrash about a bit, and tell someone to ‘please don’t’. To be honest, I’ve wanted to ask you about them, but I thought you might be embarrassed.’
Jesus. He slumped back against the wall, his hand over his eyes. Tell her. He’d kept this secret from her because he couldn’t bear to see the love in her eyes replaced by pity. But now, here, on his island, safe from everyone else, Samuel Levy told his love about the night he watched his mother murdered by a man obsessed with her. He told her every detail, every horror and when he was done, he saw only love, understanding, comprehension
‘I couldn’t save her.’ He felt his body crumple, but Isa’s arms tightened around him.
‘You were eight years old,’ she pressed her cool lips to his temple. ‘There wasn’t anything you could have done. Where was your father?’
The Midnight Club Page 42