by Kira Blakely
All is silent, and finally, Lauren’s feet scurry off.
The men chase after her, and I roll out from under the bed, hop to my feet in one swift move and dart after them.
“Let me go!” Lauren shouts, a few feet from the barn. She wrenches her arm free from the grip of a weasel-lookin’ son of a bitch with brown hair.
I grab the hoe resting on the side of the barn and swing it.
Crack.
It hits the back of the man’s head. He falls sideways.
The other dude, the one with the Nike shoes, reaches for his gun but I whack his arm. The weapon cartwheels through the air.
I bury the end of the hoe’s handle in his chest. He falls to his knees and I swing the hoe again, connect it with the back of his head. He falls face down not far from where his comrade has dropped. They’re both unconscious.
I drop the hoe, adrenaline still pounding through me.
Lauren drops to her knees in the dirt, her pleated blue skirt billowing outward. She has one hand clasped over her mouth and I can’t tell if she’s gasping or she’s about to throw up. Her shoulders tremble.
I wish she hadn’t seen this, but I can’t regret doing it.
Even though those men are already on the ground, unmoving, my blood still boils. They took everything away from me. They almost took Lauren.
“Who are they?” Lauren asks, her teeth chattering slightly. “Are they the ones who tried to kill you?”
“Two of them,” I answer.
She turns her head, pale as a white lily, just as precious. “There are more? There are more of these… monsters?”
Instead of answering her, I kneel beside her and draw her into my arms. Her body quakes against me, vibrating on repeat. Christ, I didn’t mean for this to happen.
How the fuck did they find me here?
“Shh.” I stroke her hair. “It’s all right, Lauren. It’s going to be all right.”
“One of those men…” She gulps a deep breath. “…was here earlier. He said he was from the Census Bureau. I told him we had a new farmhand living in an old barn. I shouldn’t have told him. He could have killed you.”
I pause. It was her they were trying to hold captive, yet it’s me she’s afraid for?
I kiss the top of her head and continue stroking her hair. “It’s all right.”
I hold her as she trembles in my arms, the sky turning purple and then inky above us. A light bulb flickers to life a few feet away, one of several that Isaac lights before six in the evening. It chokes like a child with stage fright and then finally glows steadily. A moth comes close, hovers over it along with smaller insects I can’t identify, casting their shadows on the bulb.
Finally, Lauren stops trembling.
I let her go and get on my feet.
“Go to the barn and wait for me there. I’ll take care of this mess before your father sees it.”
I fetch the wagon where I left it somewhere near the storage barn, pulling it. When I reach the bodies, Lauren is still there, standing over them. I go to the body of the long-haired man first, lifting him by the shoulders. Lauren appears across from me and grabs the man’s feet.
She looks calm, determined.
I nod and she lifts the man’s feet. Together, we carry him and toss him into the wagon. We do the same the other, and I take off the shoes – I’ll burn these precious kicks later on, for the hell of it.
Lauren and I push the wagon, neither of us speaking. The crush of wagon wheels on the soil and the chirping of insects pierce the silence.
Finally, we reach the ditch outside the ranch. I lift the wagon and dump the men there.
It’s only fitting. They dumped me off a cliff and I’m dumping them in a ditch.
“Are they dead?” Lauren asks, breaking the silence.
I turn my head to look at her. Her hair is even more chaotic now than before, ebony strands sent in various directions by the breeze. Her white blouse is dirty now, a dark brown stain on the Peter Pan collar.
I’m not much better, a large wet stain on the front of my shirt where the sweat has gathered.
The men I’ve knocked out lie face down in the ditch.
“They’re unconscious,” I say. “I applied the right amount of force to give them concussions. That way, when they wake up, their minds will be muddled and they’ll have a hard time remembering what happened. Hopefully, they won’t remember me.”
She wraps her arms around herself.
“Let’s go back. It’s late. Your dad must be looking for you.”
I start pushing the wagon back toward the ranch. Lauren walks beside me. We remain silent.
With the wagon empty, the trip back is faster. Still, the moon is already high above the clouds. I park the wagon under a tree then stand by Lauren.
“I’ll walk you back to the house.”
“Okay.”
I follow her back to the house, keep an eye out for pursuit.
There’s no one. There’s only the moon in the sky and grass below.
I told Lauren I didn’t kill those men but the truth is I’m not sure. Who knows? Maybe I did.
Maybe I’ve become a murderer like them.
Chapter 13
Lauren
The waning moon peeks through the thin wisp of clouds, the scattered stars around it sharing the task of illuminating the night sky.
It’s a beautiful night but I feel terrible. The wind blows through my hair as I walk back to the house. My feet weigh a ton, and I’m chilled inside and out.
It’s like I’m the one lying at the bottom of a deep, dark ditch, alone and afraid.
I still remember that exact moment when Chase came out of the barn, swinging the hoe and hitting those men without hesitation. He could have killed them. Worse, though, he could have missed or not hit him hard enough and they could have killed him. That guy in the hooded gray sweatshirt could have shot him. He could have died right outside the barn, in the dirt.
That can never happen. Never.
The house comes in sight, light spilling out through some of the downstairs windows but none of the upstairs. Likely, my dad has drunk one bottle of beer too many and fallen asleep again on the couch while waiting for me, Smoke on the tattered rug beside him.
Behind me, Chase stops walking.
“You should be all right now. I’ll head back to the barn.”
I nod, stepping forward.
“Good night,” he adds.
“Good night.”
I walk off. After a few steps, though, I stop, unable to continue.
I can’t leave him. Not when I almost lost him.
I whirl around, a twig snapping beneath my feet. Running, I throw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around him.
“Hold me.” The plea escapes my lips as I clutch his shirt.
Chase goes still.
For a moment, I fear that he hasn’t heard my request or that he’s not planning on granting it. Then he grips my chin, his lips sealing mine as his tongue delves inside my mouth.
I place my hands around his neck, standing on the tips of my toes as I let my tongue play with his. We’re only a few feet away from the house and my father could easily see us from the living room window but I no longer care. Right now, my dad is the least of my worries.
Chase must think so too because he pulls me closer, his hands gripping my backside. He grinds into me. I push against him – his pulsing cock drives me wild. I’m burning up, ready.
He pulls away.
He grabs my wrist and leads me away from the house. We run beneath the moonlight, trampling the grass in our path. He takes me to the vineyard, which is less than fifty feet from the house. There, amidst the rows of the curly vines with their saw-edged leaves and the bunches of green grapes dangling from them, Chase pulls me into his arms and kisses me again. And the madness begins anew.
Every nerve in my body is tingling, every vein on fire. My tongue becomes entangled with his, our breaths mingling and our bodies pressed together
as we’re wrapped up in each other’s arms.
My breasts and my pussy lips swell. The grapes out here may not be ready for harvest, but my body is ripe and ready, maybe even more so than it was last time.
Indeed, last time, I was afraid but now, even though I was deathly scared moments ago, I no longer am. I want to be with him. I want to feel him, to have him carve himself into my body.
“Touch me.” I grab his wrist and place his hand on one of my breasts.
He squeezes it through the layers of clothing as he gives me another deep kiss. I moan into his mouth.
Then Chase grips the hem of my blouse, lifts it and pulls the piece of clothing off me. The air caresses my back and I shiver from the chill.
He pushes my bra up and out of the way, his hand closing around my bare breast as he leaves a trail of kisses from my ear to the hollow of my throat. My nipple pokes against his palm, my breast flooding with heat.
He squeezes the sensitive mound of flesh then takes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rubs it. I shiver. He takes the other and tweaks it, then sucks on it.
My knees buckle and I place my hands on the back of his head, fingers pulling at his curls. I squeeze my eyes shut and throw my head back, more gasps escaping my lips.
His mouth moves to my other breast, his tongue circling my nipple, rubbing against it, the friction turning my mind and my body to mush. I grip his shoulders, afraid I might fall if I don’t.
Leaving my breasts warm and wet, my nipples stiff as pebbles, Chase moves lower, planting ticklish, feather-light kisses down the soft curve of my abdomen. His tongue dips into my bellybutton and I giggle.
He moves lower still, his hands on my hips.
His sapphire eyes gleam with mischief and promise, and he plants a kiss on the front of my skirt. I feel it through the layers of cotton, one of which becomes wet.
He reaches for my ankles, then with his eyes still holding mine, his hands climb up my legs, tickling the back of my shaking knees.
They travel up my thighs, slip beneath the blue pleats of my skirt. They reach all the way to my damp underwear and cup my backside. Then long fingers pull down the garter.
The tiny piece of clothing falls to my knees and down to my ankles. I step out of them, kick off my shoes, as well, and relish the cool, hard ground beneath my feet.
Chase kneels between them, his hands seizing my thighs, his head disappearing under my skirt. I hold my breath and clutch his shoulders.
Then I feel something warmer, wetter, and I let out a sound caught between a gasp and a whimper. I grab his hair through the cotton.
His tongue grazes my clit, each strum making it harder and harder for me to breathe or to stand. My toes curl, dig into the soil.
“Shit,” I gasp out loud, trembling.
Chase’s tongue brushes against my dripping folds, and I’m at a loss for words entirely. My hands move to his shoulders and grip them as I nearly lose my balance.
I haven’t had a drop of alcohol to drink and yet I’m intoxicated by his tongue and the evening air, another breeze sweeping through me and sending my hair across my face, some strands caught between my lips that are parted to let air in and moans out.
His tongue slips in and out, eating me, lapping up the wetness.
I’m weak and dizzy. It’s my flavor that he’s savoring, but it’s as if he’s sucking out every coherent thought in me.
Just when I’m about to burst, he stops. Sitting on the ground, he pulls me into his lap, my back against his chest. Then his mouth finds mine.
I taste myself on him, a little bit like semen but slightly sweeter. It’s strange but not at all unpleasant and I open my mouth wider, welcoming every bit of his tongue.
As Chase claims and explores my mouth anew, his hands unhook my bra, its straps sliding down my arms and off my hands. Then one hand cups my breast, the other slipping between my legs.
His finger brushes against my clit before sliding in, and I pulse, even as his dick throbs behind me. Another finger joins the party.
The fingers continue the work his tongue has done, weaving their magic spell on me. They move in and out, and I draw closer and closer to the edge. I move my hips to speed the process up even more, and as I do, I grind against his erection, drawing a growl from him.
That sound propels me to the height of pleasure only so I can tumble off it, my breath robbed, my entire body shaking and shattering into a thousand pieces.
Chase breaks the kiss to let me breathe but even then, I slump against him, panting, my feverish skin covered with a fresh layer of sweat.
I don’t know how long I remain seated on his lap, staring at the moon and catching my breath. Time has stopped.
“Are you all right?” Chase asks.
I nod, still unable to speak as I rest my head on his shoulder.
“Better?”
I turn around so I can look at him, straddling his lap.
I do feel better but I’m not quite satisfied.
“I want you,” I whisper in his ear, licking the lobe. “All of you.”
I press my palm against his bulge, which immediately throbs in response.
He places his hands on my cheeks and gives me a long, fierce kiss, one that sends my mind reeling and robs me of what breath I’ve managed to catch.
“You asked for it.”
Chase lowers me on the ground. The soil is hard and coarse, the blades of grass tickling my skin but I don’t mind. I watch him as he takes off his shirt and unzips his jeans. The button comes off with one pop then he pulls his cock out, its tip engorged and glistening, the thick shaft pulsing.
I don’t take my eyes off it – I can’t – as Chase pulls my skirt off, leaving me completely naked. Then he settles between my legs, clenches my thighs, and enters me with one thrust.
I throw my head back, my mouth opening in a silent scream of triumph and pleasure as his thick, hard cock stretches me and fills me to the brim. I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers pulling at the grass.
Chase seals my mouth, our tongues entwined as his hips start to move. My back rubs against the ground, which is abrasive against my soft skin, but I ignore it as I wrap my arms around Chase, clinging to him.
He moves faster, rocking my body with his as he deepens the kiss. His pace is furious, stoking the flames deep within me.
I wrap my legs around him as well, crossing my ankles, which dig into his back.
I steal a peek under heavy eyelids, finding Chase with his eyes narrowed but his pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring, and his jaw clenched. His curls bounce, a bead of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose.
He shouts my name, his thrusts turning into jerks of his hips.
“Lauren!”
“Chase!” I scream his name as his cock moves faster and throbs inside me.
Moments later, it explodes, filling me with warmth. My body bursts with it, shattering again as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me, each one stealing my breath. Even with my eyes closed, I can see stars, the real ones blurred specks of silver when my eyelids finally flutter open.
Panting, Chase plants a tender kiss on my forehead then pulls out and lies down beside me, both of us staring up at the starry sky from the cold ground. I reach for his hand, my fingers entwining with his. A breeze sweeps by to cool our sweat-drenched skin.
It’s a beautiful night and now, I’m beautiful too.
Chase squeezes my hand. “Feel better?”
I nod, staring at him, his hair gleaming in the moonlight.
He turns his head, his eyes meeting mine. “Any other requests?”
I blush as I remember the ones I’ve made then look away.
He gives my hand another squeeze. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I swear.”
“I’m more worried something bad might happen to you,” I tell him.
“A lot of bad things have happened to me. But hey, I’m glad they did. Because of all those things, I met you.”
I shake my he
ad. “Don’t say that. Nobody should have to live like a fugitive.”
He falls silent.
“Tell me…” I rub his hand. “About how your life used to be.”
Chase shrugs. “Good, I guess. I could do whatever I wanted. I could buy whatever I wanted. I could eat whatever I wanted.”
“Chefs?”
“Yeah. We had a few.”
“Wow. Sounds like a dream.”
“They don’t cook as well as you do, though.”
“Really?” I turn on my side, propping my head on my elbow. “I bet they cooked all sorts of fancy dishes.”
“They did,” he says. “But sometimes, simple hearty dishes that are thoughtfully prepared are more satisfying than fancy dishes.”
I purse my lips, running my fingers through the grass in front of me.
Chase grabs my hand. “I had a good life, yes, but it felt empty.”
A knot forms in my throat, but warmth swells in my chest, too. This is the first time he’s told me anything about his past.
I lift his hand to my lips and plant a tender kiss on his knuckles.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” I ask him.
“You mean where to swing a hoe like that?”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I can’t imagine that you have a lot of hoes in the mansion.”
“Not one. But I used to play baseball so I’m good at swinging.”
“I see.”
“I used to do some rowing, too. It helped me develop some strength in my arms.”
To demonstrate, he props himself up and starts an arm wrestle with me, one that I lose within seconds.
Then again, I knew I didn’t stand a chance against those muscles.
I clench and unclench my fingers. “Maybe you can teach me to row sometime?”
“Maybe.”
I grin but frown again as I notice the blood on my arm.
Did I scrape my arm now? No. The blood is already dry. Also, it’s not mine, which terrifies me and brings back memories of the unexpected events earlier in the evening.
I let go of Chase’s hand and sit up. I’ve got to wash the dried blood off – in the sink near the barn? And maybe my hair, which has flecks of soil tangled in it too. I try combing order into it in vain.