Twisting Fate

by Charisse Reid

  I can feel it starting to build inside with each thrust back and forth. I can't control the moans that escape. "I'm about to come." I close my eyes and enjoy the ride. The feelings blossom like a rose, beginning as a small bud and blooming into a mind-blowing orgasm. I lock my lips with his to silence the cry that wants to escape.

  When the wave of pleasure subsides, I break free and I open my eyes. Preston's mouth is slightly gaping. "Bloody fucking hell, Kinz. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen." A throaty groan escapes in between sentences. "You're so wet. I can feel it running down me." I've stirred some kind of animal inside. He rolls me over and grabs my ankles, pulling them into the air as he gets balanced on his knees.

  He rests each heel on a shoulder. He begins thrusting slow and deep, watching my face conform with each one. I grab the pillow in my hands and hold on for the ride I can feel coming. The smirk and fire in his eyes tell me I'm right. He continues a slow rhythm, torturing me. "You like using my body to reap the benefit? You like getting yourself off while I wait helplessly?" He begins grinding his hips in a circular motion, causing my eyes to roll back in my head.

  "Yes," I breathe out.

  "You want it rough? Is slow not good enough? Does my girl want dirty sex? Do you want me to fuck you instead of make love to you?" He slides out slowly and completely, knowing exactly what he's doing to me.

  That is exactly what I want. I want something that won't remind me of where I've been. I want something different; something my mind won't be able to compare. I want something that is going to take me to an alternate state of mind, the ultimate escape. I never have wanted to channel my pain through sex before, but right now I want to let the pleasure consume me. I want to forget everything but this moment, even if only for one brief pause in time.

  For the first time in my entire life I understand girls like Presley. I understand the need to try and let the one who possesses you completely go, by getting under someone else. Sometimes the only way to cope with the reality of living in a form of hell on earth is to be raptured into another world; a world that can take away the thought process, numb the pain, and replace the happiness that was taken away from you by a lesser form; a synthetic version. I love Preston, but I don't want him to make love to me the way Breyson made love to me. Instead, I want him to treat me like a dirty whore. I want him to hurt me with a painful pleasure. That is only and absolute way that I can ensure I won't think of...Breyson.

  "Give it to me hard. I want to feel you as deep as possible. I want you to hurt me." He spreads my legs wide, forming a V in the air. He leans forward and picks up pace using my ankles to balance him. He pulls out and rams it in over and over. With each thrust my body scoots one inch closer to the headboard. My body begins to shake, but it's not enough. My head is clear, but I'm still mentally here. "Harder."

  He pulls out and lowers my legs to the side. I can see the sweat beading across his forward. "Turn over. All fours. You want naughty tonight, then I'll give it to you, anything for you. You want me to fuck you like an animal then so be it. We have the rest of our lives to make love."

  The filth excreting from his mouth turns me on more than it should. I shouldn't like this, but I do. I've always been the good girl; strived to be perfect and it's gotten me nowhere but down the road of heartache and the land of crushed dreams. I want to be bad. I want to be taken someplace other than where I am, because where I am feels good, but it feels wrong. One emotion I want to run from is starting to chase me: guilt.

  I quickly take position on my hands and knees as he aligns behind me. He places his hands on my hips and wastes no time before he slams it inside me as hard as he can. He's so far inside me at this angle that it took my breath away. He pulls out and does it again, harder. I cry out. "Do you want me to stop?"

  I clench the sheets in my fists. It hurts, but it feels good. "No," I whisper. "Don't stop." It's hard to explain. It hurts, but I want more. I can't think about anything. My focus is on the pain when I accept the thrust and the pleasure when it's returned. My concentration is locked on trying to endure it. In turn, it becomes bittersweet.

  I can hear the moans coming from him as he quickens his pace. I dig my toes into the sheets each time he thrusts harder. He moves one hand up to grab my shoulder for support and reaches around my body with the other, rubbing me down below. The extra stimulation is what I need to take me over the edge; to take me to the place I need to be: oblivion.

  I feel numb inside, paralyzed down below from the assault on my body. I don't know how many more times he enters me, but I finally feel him pull out and catch his seed in his fist. I stand from the bed and walk to the bathroom to get him a towel. I notice his eyes are heavy as I hand it to him. The smile on his face tells me he's happy, but he'll be out cold shortly. "That was amazing, baby. Was it what you expected?"

  He's not even paying attention to what he's saying. He's walking around on cloud nine and slightly delusional from exhaustion. I need to be alone for a little while and by the looks of him, he'll be asleep in about five minutes. "Of course. It was better." I lie.

  I kiss him on the lips as I hand him the hand towel for him to wipe himself clean. "I'm going to take a quick bath to unwind. Don't wait up I'll be in bed shortly. You know I've been having a harder time sleeping the past few days."

  "Are you sure? I can wait up if you want." He's already starting to doze off. He can barely hold his eyes open. I reach down and pick up his boxers, tossing them to him. He picks them up and pulls them on his body before pulling down the blanket and getting under them.

  "I'm sure. Don't be silly. I won't be long and I'll come to bed." I begin walking to the bathroom and make it to the door before I hear him mumbling. "Kinzleigh?" I stop. "I love you."

  My eyes begin to fill. "I love you too, Preston."

  Like a zombie, I walk to the large Jacuzzi tub and start the warm water. I step inside and sit as the water fills the tub. Everything that was being suppressed breaks free. I do the opposite of what I wanted to do; I cry.

  I cry because it wasn't what I expected. It wasn't the sex that I'm referring to. The sex was as good as sex can be, I guess. If you think about it, all sex is pretty much the same. I don't have much to compare, but you either know how to do it or you don't. You don't need an instruction manual to partake in it. What I mean is, the emotions that we share were nothing like when Breyson and I did it. I'm forever damned.

  I knew from the first time Breyson and I were together I would be forever ruined when it came to men. In my heart I love Preston, but I'm not consumed by him. I could be happy with Preston forever, but not as happy as I would be with Breyson. He was right when he said he'd be marrying his best friend, because he is my best friend. I've grown to love him in a way I never would have imagined, but I love Breyson more.

  I went into this blindsided and naive. You can't experience designer brands and then buy a generic brand expecting it to be exactly the same. Something is always going to be different no matter how similar they are. When you experience the best there is from the beginning, it sets you up for failure.

  I miss him so much. I have no idea why my heart hates me this much. I've tried everything and just when I take one step forward something knocks me two steps back. I'm tired of being heartbroken. I'm tired of knowing that no matter how much Preston loves me or how much I actually love him in return it'll never be good enough. Something is always there to remind me that Breyson is the one my heart and soul yearns for. If he's so right for me then why isn't he here? It's the epitome of cruel...

  Chapter 28

  Breyson

  The small beam of light through the window wakes me up. I rub my eyes, trying to focus. The sun is rising, signaling the start of a new day, a very important day. Today I get to finally look into the most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen. The only problem now is, I have no idea where she is. It's not like I can just call her and tell her this shit over the phone. I rub my hands over my face in an attempt to wake up. I look around
the private cabin of the plane. I'm going to have to think outside the box.

  If I were Kinzleigh where would I be?

  I'm not even sure how I fell asleep in the very thing that almost murdered me. Mental exhaustion triumphs over fear, I suppose. I fall back against the pillow and stare at the ceiling. I could always go see Ryland. He may flip his shit, but if I had to guess he would know where to find her. Maybe I should just show up and pretend I'm a couple months late for my annual summer stay. A good joke always softens up a serious situation. I have a car ride to think it over.

  I jump out of bed and search the small room for my duffle bag. I remove a clean pair of clothes and quickly change. The less time I waste, the more time I have to see her. Who knows what screw-ups could go down in between. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull on my sneakers. Shoving all of my belongings back into the bag, I pull my ball cap on my head and exit the cabin, walking toward the front of the plane.

  With one thing on my mind I don't waste my time looking for the flight attendant. If I had to guess the car is already waiting outside. Completely free from the last step, I see the car not far from the plane. It's never felt so good to be on California soil. I take off in a sprint towards the car.

  He notices me closing in quickly and opens the door, attempting to get out. "Not necessary, Sir. I just need you to drive." I open the back door and toss my bag on the seat before I slide inside.

  When he is back in the driver's seat, he turns to look at me. "Good morning. My instructions are to take you anywhere you need to go. Where will it be first?"

  "112 Seagull Cove, Laguna Beach." He turns back to face the front and starts the car. Waiting is going to be hellacious, but I've made it this far. I can't stop now. I prop my elbow on the door and watch out the window as everything familiar passes by. It's amazing how you can go without seeing something for so long and one look at it brings back all the memories that have been stored away.

  He pulls into the driveway that I haven't seen in over a year. I see Ryland's vehicles parked, but the others are absent. When he comes to a stop I open the door. "Will you wait here? I may need you after this."

  "Of course. Take your time." I take a deep breath and put one foot on the pavement. Pulling up on the doorframe, I stand following with the other foot and shut the door.

  I walk in the direction of the back at a steady pace. Ryland rounds the corner at the gate, so I lean against the hood of his truck. He's carrying a surfboard under his arm and looking down at his cell phone as he walks, not paying any attention. "You're still at it I see. When are you going to put that surfboard down and play a real sport?"

  I've teased him about his love for surfing since he discovered he could ride a wave. I mostly rag him about it because I'm not any good. It's hard as shit and he's really good at it; he knows it too. The guy will be competing in major heats around the world in no time, but I'm not going to tell him that. His ego is too big already.

  He looks up and stops mid step. I can't stop the smirk that begins to form as his face contorts. He looks around and then down at himself as if he's not sure if he's dreaming. It may be wrong, but I'd be lying if I said this wasn’t a little bit fun. "You didn't think I was going to miss my weekly visit did you? Late is better than never. Isn't that how the saying goes?"

  He stands there staring at me like he's looking at a ghost. I should have known this wasn't going to be easy. Braxton and I are identical twins, but if you hang around us on a daily basis you can tell us apart. Braxton and Ryland weren't that close because he was closer to Beau. Ryland has always been able to tell us apart. It's just going to take the secret sauce for him to believe it.

  There is one thing that no one knows except Ryland and me. Ryland's dad has always had a love for fishing most wouldn't understand. He's the guy that plans a fishing trip twice a year and even competes in local competitions. If that doesn't tell you anything, he loves to watch Bass Masters on television and he has a shrine in his man cave devoted to all of the pro fishermen that he's met along the way.

  One of his most prized possessions was a fishing lure he got signed by his favorite famous fisherman. He kept it inside a small clear box. Ryland and I used to look at it all the time. Once when we were kids, we thought it would bring us luck to fish with it in the lake by our houses. We were sure we would have a bucket full of fish by day's end. We were wrong.

  What ended up happening was that we lost the lure. Ryland threw out his line and got a bite on the other end. It was a big one by the pull on the pole. We weren't very big at the time, so it took both of us to reel it in. We got it all the way to the bank before it broke the line and took the lure with it. Today, that lure would have been worth thousands, but it's hooked in the mouth of that fish somewhere or at the bottom of the lake.

  When Uncle Joe found out it was missing he was pissed and hurt. We swore to secrecy that we would never tell anyone it was us. He blamed it on Beau anyway; so we figured, if the crime had already been paid, why should two people pay for the same crime twice? Uncle Joe moped around for two weeks after that. We haven't discussed it since. "You look like you've seen a ghost. I expected a little more excitement from my partner in crime upon my return. I got to thinking that I couldn't let you have all the fun, alone, taking valuable objects for extracurricular activities. Do you think Uncle Joe ever figured out it was us that took his prized fishing memorabilia?"

  He drops everything he's holding in his hands. "Breyson?" He doesn't move. He doesn't speak.

  I've never seen Ryland so quiet. "Yeah, Rye, it's me."

  "I...I...I thought you were...dead," he stammers. I can see how this would be a little awkward. Hell, if I weren’t living it I wouldn't believe it either.

  I rub my hand over the top of my head like a brush. "It's actually kind of a funny story." If I don't find the humor in this situation the opposite will occur. I refuse to break down again. I've had enough breakdowns to last me a lifetime. "Let's just say I took an involuntary leave of absence; an extended vacation of sorts." I laugh thinking maybe he will do the same. Again, I was wrong in my prediction.

  Instead, his face turns angry. "What the fuck, Breyson? Where the hell have you been? Do you know what people have gone through over the last six months? You actually have the audacity to laugh. This isn't fucking funny."

  One thing about Ryland is that I've never seen him cry. Even at Beau's funeral he looked like more of hollow shell, as if his emotions had been stripped from his body. When you looked in his eyes there was nothing there. It took a year for his personality to come back and he and Beau weren't really that close. Right now his eyes are filled to capacity without the tears actually spilling over; however, what I just heard was blame for doing something I did not; that doesn't sit with me well.

  My temper flares. "You know what? Fuck you, Ryland. Do I know what y'all have been through? What about what I've been through? You act like I just fled on my own free will. You want to know what I've had to deal with over the past six months? Well, I'll tell you. I had to witness someone sacrifice herself for people she didn't know, leaving a child behind. I had to anticipate my death as a hunk of steel came falling from the air into shark-infested waters. I had to wake up in a country where I knew no one, including myself. I was stranded with no clue who I was or where I was from. I had to dream about the woman I'm in love with, without knowing if she was real of not. I wandered around trying to formulate an existence with no foundation but my body."

  I push off the hood of the truck. I've gotten myself worked up now. I'm one of those people that hold things in. I let them build until they detonate like a bomb with a long fuse. "You think everyone else has had it bad, well think again. Try finding out you're going to be a father through some kind of paranormal bullshit my mind concocted. Why don't you imagine feeling like a foster child in a family that didn't have to take me in, but did."

  The tears are stinging my eyes against my will. "Have you heard enough yet? Well, I'm not finished. Imagine being
helpless by knowing that the love of your life is out there in the world somewhere, alone, carrying your child and you can't get to her. Why don't you try picturing the guilt of gaining your memories back only to know that you were the only survivor in something so tragic it's almost unbearable. I should have died with all of those people. Try carrying that burden for the rest of your life."

  I walk in his direction until I'm directly in front of his face. The first tear I've ever seen him shed falls down his face. I lower my tone from yelling, to a tone above a whisper. My jaw twitches. "Of everything I've been through, you want to know what's worse than it all? Imagine receiving confirmation that the mysterious girl you've dreamed about for months is, in fact, carrying your child, but also moving on with another man and there is nothing you can do about it, because you're thousands of miles away. Imagine when you are finally granted the ability to remember, you find out the man in the photo is the one that's been after her for years. Does it sound like a soap opera yet? Try fucking living it. I am done with the bullshit. I came here for Kinzleigh, so where is she?" My teeth are now gritted together as the questions falls from my lips.

  He takes a few steps back, but I have no idea why. "Breyson, a lot of things have happened since you've been gone. I'm not sure you want to know where she is."

  I follow him. He's not going to give me some shady answer without some kind of explanation. "Where is she, Ryland?"

  He takes a deep breath. He gives me a pathetic expression. Pity is written all over his face. What could have been so bad that he is suddenly feeling sorry for me now, after dropping the multiple bombs on him earlier? "Follow me," he says as he picks up the cell phone he previously dropped and walks through the gate. I follow him into the pool house.

  I close the door behind me and take in the surroundings. It looks the same as the last time I was here, but different. It now looks lived in. He doesn't say anything as he walks to the bar. I notice him grab the newspaper and roll it in half, enclosing the front-page section. He holds it out in front of me. "This was released this morning."