Accepted & Rebuilt (Shattered Duet Book 2)

by Bry Ann

  I stoke the back of her head. The action makes her close her eyes and sigh as she relaxes slightly into me.

  “Now look at me and touch yourself. I got you.”

  I rub her back a little.

  Looking absolutely petrified at the idea, Sage’s hands slowly slide down her body, sexy heels swinging beside her. Her hand finds the outside of her panties and stops.

  “I don’t… I don’t know, Nix…”

  Pleasure to Sage at this point is something I give her when we’re making love. Something she zones out or connects to me to accept. Sex and pleasure are still things she’s trying to learn to mix, but definitely not on her own. Definitely not without me. I want to show her she owns her own pleasure while also playing this scene out. Six years seems long, but really, when you’re talking the kind of trauma she endured, it’s really not.

  She starts to pull her hand away, but I gently capture her wrist.

  “Can I show you?”

  She doesn’t say anything, but the way her wrist goes limp in mine, I know I have her approval.

  “Like this, brave girl.”

  I use her hand to slowly make light circles outside the lace. Her small gasp lets me know I’m showing her right.

  “You like that?”

  She says nothing, but her thighs tighten around me like she’s fighting not to move.

  “Let go,” I murmur in her ear, as I loosen my grip and feel her start to explore on her own.

  “See, just like that.”

  I can’t believe she really has never pleasured herself. Not even when I’m away for long periods of time. Damn.

  I let her wrist go.

  She’s super hesitant. She pauses for a moment when my hand is gone, but her lust takes over and she continues. Circles at first, then the pressure increases and her hips start to undulate against me. Soft moans echo in the room.

  “Take off the lace,” I demand.

  With a whimper, she forces her hand away, stands, again in those sexy-ass heels, and pulls the underwear down her legs. She doesn’t once waver on her feet in the sky-high shoes, showing me she wasn’t lying when she told me her parents made her dress up like their show pony for her entire childhood and teen years. As much as I wish I could take that back for her, it’s really hot right now.

  As soon as the underwear’s gone, Sage wastes no time getting back in my lap and timidly exploring herself.

  “Nix!” she moans louder when her fingers find her clit.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” I assure her. “It’s just us. Well, this part is really all you.”

  She looks up at me, a little amused, a little relieved.

  “Finish, Sage. For you.”

  She does. Her hands work expertly until she’s crying out, falling against my chest. I don’t give her a moment to think about it. To let herself think about it emotionally.

  I grab her hips and flip her over on the bed.

  Her breathing increases.

  “Holy shit, Nix.”

  I chuckle. “You’re sexy as hell.”

  “I need to dress like this for you more often.”

  “I’m definitely not arguing, but I always think you’re sexy. I just didn’t know if you could handle this.”

  “And today?” she smirks.

  I wince. “You were standing there, looking and acting sexy as hell, working out has made me horny as hell, we were discussing heavy shit, I have to have you. You know I’ll stop if you need me to, but I got carried away and decided to… explore this.”

  She laughs. Laughs. Free and happy.

  “I’m glad you trusted me enough to try. I like when you push me. Gently… but…” she bites her lip.

  I groan.

  “Gotta fuck you, babe. I’m dying here.”

  She digs her heels into the bed. While I’m completely distracted by that, her hand hesitantly reaches out and grabs my cock from the outside of my pants.

  “Sage,” I groan. Her eyes get an evil glint when she feels how hard I am. I sit back and yank my clothes off, throwing them to the floor. I hover back over her.

  “Guide me in,” I say in a hoarse voice. “I have to fuck you.”

  She smiles a little and guides me inside her with shaking hands.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “Fuck, Sage. Okay, I can’t do this.”

  I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I feel dark. I feel completely out of control. I try to push off, but Sage stops me.

  “Nix, look at me.”

  I grit my jaw and look. She grabs my jaw with force, forcing our eye contact, and starts to move her hips. My eyes snap closed and my hands fist.

  “Look at me!” she snaps, jerking her hips up. “This is what I’m talking about! You’re changing and pulling away versus giving me a chance to adapt with you!”

  “I can’t hurt you!”

  “Ugh, Jesus, you’re so annoying!”

  I swear she disconnects my jaw, jerking her hand away.

  “Fuck me.”

  “No,” I grit out.

  “If I asked you to stop, would you? No matter what you’re feeling?”

  “Of course.”

  “Exactly! That’s the difference, Nix! Give me a chance to be what you need right now. I trust you.” She squeezes my shoulders tight. “I trust you.”

  When I don’t relax, Sage completely pulls away. She slides out from underneath me, unstraps her heels, throws them to the side, then butt-ass naked glares at me and starts ordering me around.

  “You lie down.”

  I don’t.

  She grabs my shoulders and shoves me down. Her hands run down my torso, seemingly etching all my new muscles, but unlike most women, not seeming happy about it.

  She kisses the spot below my belly button before slowly using both hands to run back up my body until she’s face to face with me. She doesn’t waste a moment. She plants her lips on mine with fervor. I force my body to be still.

  What if I hurt her? What if I snap? I've always been scared that one day, I’ll snap and become my father. With this battle mentality I have going on to defeat Aaron, I feel one step away from becoming him. I’m cracking.

  “Nix, please. Come back to me. I was enjoying that. You’re not gonna hurt me, babe. You’re not,” she whispers, cupping my face.

  Her hips press down into me.

  “I’m yours.”

  “You think you can handle me? Really?” I ask, defeated.

  “Yes,” she answers without hesitation, sliding herself over my cock with a whimper. She places a hand on my chest as she starts to ride me. She looks in my eyes the whole time, like she’s waiting for something.

  It comes.

  The darkness, the anger, the lust I feel for her… everything piles up. I grab her hips, adjusting us so I’m on top. I pause a moment, waiting for an objection, not getting any.

  Feeling everything build, I lose it.

  The usual, slow, careful lovemaking.

  The constant encouragement.

  What happens is pure fucking. A release for my anger.

  “Grab the headboard, doll,” I grind out.

  She does, breathing heavily.

  I move my hips slowly at first, before picking up the pace. I use one hand to play with Sage’s clit. Her usual soft whimpers grow louder.

  “Nix,” she whimpers. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

  I fuck her harder. Her hands release the headboard.

  “Hold on,” I repeat.

  She does with a yelp as I work her clit harder. I need her to come like this. I fucking need her to.

  “Nix!” she screams. Screams. Sage.

  “Sage! Fuckfuckfuck… love you.”

  She shatters.

  Beautifully.

  She screams my name loudly. Her hands fly off the headboard to scratch at my back. I pull out and come at the same time as her before we both collapse into the mattress. Despite my mood, despite everything, it’s instinct to reach for her and hold her after sex. So that’s exactly wh
at I do. I loop my arm around her shivering body and pull her into me so her head is nuzzled against my chest.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Fucking,” I shrug, eyes alight seeing her shocked expression.

  “It was… intense.”

  All the dark I felt is now worn away, and concern takes its place.

  “Are you okay? Fuck, Sage. I…”

  She places a finger over my lips and smiles at me; free, bright and happy. Just like before.

  “It was hot, Nix. I love you.”

  “I love you too, princess. So much.”

  I kiss her.

  How does she understand love when, after six years, I still can’t? How does she handle my fucked up brand of it? How did she do that after all that’s happened to her? How is it possible for me to feel this much for her? I feel like I’m gonna implode or explode, maybe. The damaged little boy, the brutal young killer, is lost as hell.

  Six Months Later

  Nix

  I finally took time away to see Lacey. To take her out of that damn house. I should have done that immediately after Rose died. I felt like shit when I saw how genuinely excited she was to see me. Living with someone in a cabin on the run forces closeness. Not to mention, I know about Lacey’s past, her self-harm. I’ve boxed with her and seen the scars marring her body. I know firsthand how close she and Rose were. I should have been less selfish and reached out sooner.

  But I didn’t.

  And I paid the consequences while getting coffee with her. She was pissed I didn’t reach out to her. Pissed I didn’t seem to care more about Rose before and after her death. Pissed I wouldn’t help her solve Rose’s murder, and even worse, tried to talk her out of digging into that mess.

  If only she knew I could give her all the answers she was seeking about the mystery surrounding Rose’s death.

  Turns out, that question is answered for me not long after our coffee date.

  I should have known Lacey Lesser would figure it out. The woman is a shy, traumatized, badass, genius.

  Back at the house, I clean up dishes from the previous meal. Sage had to cook some special recipe for the blog since she saw a slight dip in readers recently. She wanted to make some fancy dessert for them, which we both benefited from. But very unlike her, she left the mess, went to our room, and never really returned. Looking at it now, I figure she got distracted. So I spend the extra ten minutes cleaning it up for her and placing her recipe notes on her desk. It’s the least I can do. Since our talk/epic sex session six months ago, she hasn’t given one hint that she’s aware of what I’m about to do. She’s been true to her word in that regard. She even tempers the looks she gives my newly growing muscles. Me cleaning her mess is no problem.

  I put the last dish away and wipe my hands on the rag. Where is she?

  “Sage? Sage?” I call, careful not to make my voice too loud.

  I walk into our room and smile. Sage is lying horizontally on the bed. Her black hair with its green hue is spread out all around her. She’s out like a light. A famous Sage coma.

  I walk over and rub her shiny hair back before leaning down to kiss her neck.

  “Love you,” I whisper.

  She twitches in her sleep. I grab Pamela and tuck her into Sage’s side. The last thing I want when she’s this peaceful is for her to have a nightmare. Once I’m sure she’s situated, I walk back into the living room and think about Aaron. The job I have to get done for him soon, the next step in my plan.

  Ding dong! Ding dong!

  Grumbling, I move to throw the door open. The air leaves my lungs when I see who it is.

  “Lacey?!” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”

  How does she know where I live?

  The small, grey-eyed girl glares at me. Glares. There’s an energy coming off of her I’ve never felt before. Anger. Bone-deep anger.

  It makes me take pause.

  I look over her shoulder, expecting Sven, the boss, or someone. I swear I’ll blow a gasket if she brought those clusterfucks around Sage. Sage is just starting to recover from being kidnapped by Rod. The last thing Sage needs is mafia men roaming around her safe space. ‘Cause that’s what our home is for her. Her one safe space.

  “I’m alone,” Lacey snaps, answering my internal dialogue.

  “What are you doing here, kid?”

  And that’s when it happens. The lashing. Lacey found out that I knew all the details of Rose’s death, and she’s pissed that I didn’t tell her. I could have saved her time, since she has been investigating Rose’s death for the past year. I mean Lacey didn’t know anything other than Rose was shot. Not who did it, nothing. But I couldn’t tell her the truth and risk her doing something stupid and getting herself killed. I couldn’t. I know Lacey well enough to know she would have gone full force ahead in a plan to make Rod suffer. She doesn’t understand that if she kills Rod, Aaron’s main man, ten more pop up.

  I had to protect her.

  But of course, it’s all my fault, though. I didn’t care about Rose enough. I wasn’t honest. I’m not doing enough.

  I always have to be the bad guy of the story. I would have loved, loved, more than anything to tell Lacey everything I know. To help her kill Rod. To give in and mourn with her over my sister’s death, but that’s not an option for me. I don’t have the luxury of doing that. I’m the only one who truly knows Aaron. Who truly knows what he’s capable of, and has been trained since birth to stop.

  Sometimes being the bad guy is done with good intentions.

  Sometimes the bad guy simply doesn’t see a way out of the darkness without hurting those in the light.

  But I’m as sick of it as I possibly can be.

  I’m tired of hating myself so fucking much.

  I’m tired of being jealous of my dead sister because she got to die pure.

  I feel like shit when Lacey runs off after verbal daggers are thrown by each of us. She’s the last person I should be yelling at. She’s the last person I want thinking I’m a cowardly asshole.

  But I have no choice. And I’m well-trained in shutting off the part of my brain that rules my emotions.

  I do watch to make sure Lacey leaves safely, without her knowing. She does. Her boyfriend comes and gets her, which is a relief, since she was so distraught I was scared to let her leave alone. Frankly, scared to let her behind the wheel.

  I jog back to the house, throw the door open, and come face to face with Sage. She’s standing there with her hair sticking up all over the place. Her tired eyes ease some of the tension in my shoulders.

  “What’s going on?” she whispers, face creasing with worry.

  She looks so small and vulnerable. So scared.

  She’s the one person who considers me a hero. Who considers me good.

  “Nothing, babe.” I wink to hide the lie.

  She rolls her eyes and runs her fingers through my hair.

  “You little liar.”

  My lip twitches. “Me? Never. And there’s nothing little about me.”

  She chokes on the innuendo.

  “Liar, then. You’re a liar.”

  I know she’s kidding, but I am. A liar and a killer and a dream crusher.

  A man who let his sister down in every way possible.

  “Hey,” Sage whispers. “Come back. Come back to me. I need you.”

  “Here, babe.”

  Sage runs her fingers softly over my eyelids.

  “Not what these are telling me.”

  I shake my head. “I’m here.”

  “Liar,” she whispers, running her fingers from my haunted eyes to my soiled heart.

  For the next month or so, I fall into a routine. Finally. All my time is spent training, doing mindless jobs for Aaron, keeping Sage company, and plotting. Basically, it’s spent putting my pawns in place.

  Ring! Ring! Ring!

  I’m jolted from my sleep by the sound of my cell phone ringing. Expecting Aaron’s people, I bark a hello into the phone.
r />   There’s some rustling, then… “Shit. Oh, um, Nix, it’s Rose.”

  What.

  “No,” I respond immediately. Rose is dead. Murdered. Pressure pounds on the back of my eyes, but I push it aside.

  “It really is me,” the familiar female voice I refuse to acknowledge sounds on the other end. “I survived the bullet and went into hiding. I know this is a shock.”

  It’s not real.

  “I’ve cried so much over this, I don’t think I’m capable of it right now, but trust me, none of this is easy and I’m confused and…” she continues on.

  “You’re alive?” I cut her off. She doesn’t respond, which tells me this… this could be real. That’s exactly how Rose would react to the emotionless, crass way I asked that question.

  I climb out of bed.

  “I’m heading there now. By the time I have everything situated, it will be morning. Get some sleep. I’ll see you with my own two eyes tomorrow.”

  Click!

  So that routine thing. The careful planning. Yeah, that goes to hell. Because when I travel back to the special spot in Illinois, where Rose is housed up with the rest of the mafia crew, she is very much alive. Healthier than I’ve ever seen her, in fact. Lacey’s still pissed at me, but I’ll work on that over time. What matters here is that Aaron failed. Rod failed.

  They fucking failed!

  Go, sister.

  The bullet almost killed her, but she managed to stay coherent enough to call 9-1-1, at which point she had the ambulance take her to another location. From there, she went to treatment and started over in a new town. Which is why no one, including me and Aaron, knew she survived.

  The boss found her and basically blackmailed her into coming back into their lives, at which point I’m sure Sven lured her in for good. Weirdly, despite everything, I’m happy about that. Sven really does love her, and Lacey’s an amazing friend to have by her side. Being with Lacey and Sven, surrounded by people who really care about her wellbeing, seems so much better than living in bumfuck nowhere, depressed and alone.

  Coming back home from that has left me emotionally drained. Finding out my dead sister is actually alive after a year of mourning her death is a lot, but that’s not even the sickest part. The sickest part of this emotional roller coaster is that I’m still so jealous of her. I should be overjoyed, celebrating jovially that she’s still alive, and I am. But even as happy as I am, and as many tears as I've shed for her, I couldn’t wait to get away from her. I mean, that’s so fucked! Aaron tried to kill her! She doesn’t have the good end of the stick anymore. Yet still, I am so insanely jealous of what a good person she is. How good she’s always gotten to be.