I hitched up the front of her dress, making sure to block her from public view. The corner we were in was dark enough that I’m sure no one could see us anyway, but I don’t take any chances when it comes to Lenny. My hands snaked up her legs, feeling the smooth skin. She’s always so smooth. I took particular time feeling between her thighs. I’m addicted to the way she shivers when I touch her inner thighs. Her body turns to Jell-O in my hands and she lets out the sexiest whimpers; all this before I’ve even touched her cunt. When I finally found Lenny’s wet pussy, we both let out loud moans. She was so goddamn wet.
“Always so wet,” I said to her, unable to contain my appreciation.
“I can’t help it with you,” Lenny sighed.
I traced a finger over the now drenched cotton of her underwear. The wetness meant it stuck to her slit. I buried my head in her neck.
“I want to take you right here, Lenny,” I said, probing my finger against the wet cotton.
“Do it,” Lenny said. Her words came out in a sultry slur that had me probing even harder against the cotton. “I’m yours, Vic, I’m always yours. You can take me wherever.”
“Jesus Christ, Lenny,” I hissed. I don’t think she has any idea the effect she has on me, or the way she drives me up a wall with her words. How do I not react to that? Take me wherever. Fuck, that’s got to be the hottest thing any woman has ever said.
I slid my hand underneath her underwear, feeling her bare pussy. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Fuck. You’re so good,” I said to her, feeling her wet my hand with her juices. “You’re such a good girl getting wet for me.”
“Oh, Vic, please . . .” Lenny trailed off, pressing herself into my hand.
That’s got to be one of the best feelings in the world, though, right? When the woman you love presses her pussy into your hand. It’s like you’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand. I could almost stay like this and be completely content. Almost. Knowing my girl’s not taken care of is why I’m not completely satisfied.
Carefully, I slid my finger up inside her, and like the good girl she is, she welcomed me home. Lenny clawed at my back and I chuckled. I’ve missed her. She’s a firecracker in every sense of the word. It’s not making love with Lenny until you have a few scratches.
I slid another finger inside and watched rapt as her eyes widened then relaxed in pure ecstasy. Anytime she moaned or started to scream, I caught it with my mouth. We didn’t want to gather a crowd, after all. I was pumping faster now, my thumb massaging her clit. My mouth was planted firmly on hers as I captured all of her screams.
It was insanity and bliss and union. We were unified. As she came, I collected her screams and her orgasm inside of me. I felt each and every one of her crescendos. When she finished, she settled into me, content. Slowly (reluctantly), I removed my fingers from her body. My entire palm was drenched in her fluids. She tasted sweet, salty, entirely Lenny.
I pushed Vic off of me. Once again, he gave me another mind-blowing, Earth-shattering orgasm. If a relationship were only about sex, then we would have zero problems. We would win the gold medal for relationships if it were just based on sex. Relationships weren’t just about sex, though, relationships were so goddamn more complicated.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I said, pulling my dress down.
“Just landlord and tenant?” Vic asked me, grinning. He was echoing the words I had spoken to him, when our relationship was too complicated for me.
I had tried to make it less confusing by defining us. It hadn’t worked then, and it wasn’t going to work now. That was the statement he was making. Vic and I were never going to be “just anything.”
I sighed, leaning into his body. He felt so right and I fit so perfectly; I could stay cuddled against him for eternity. Our skeletons would become decorations for next year’s Halloween party.
“Is this it? We’re going to be ghosts in each other’s lives?”
Would we ever be anything more? Could we ever be? I had tried to define us and failed miserably. When we tried to be together, that failed as well. I’m not sure if there is a future for me and Vic, but there sure as hell isn’t an expiration date. What did that make us?
“Once upon a time, you said you didn’t want to be an event planner for the rest of your life,” Vic remarked, his lips moving deliciously against my skull.
This felt so normal. It felt so right, being held by Vic. It almost felt like he was my boyfriend. Vic never would be my boyfriend, though. Or my husband. Or the father of my children. We were irrevocably tied in ways where labels seemed to fail.
“Once upon a time, you said you weren’t sure if your job made you happy anymore,” I countered. I stared up and into his black eyes, which were still as captivating as ever.
A little less than a year ago Vic left and I’d made the horrible decision of not leaving with him. I’d picked up the pieces of my life and put band-aids over the bullet wounds. Somehow I was still alive, still standing. I’d built a business with Zoe and Lissie. They relied on me.
But if he asked me to leave, and I mean really asked me to leave. I would go. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. I wanted Vic to finally understand, I was in this.
“I would go anywhere with you Vic.”
“What if you didn’t have to go anywhere?”
“You would quit your job?” I asked, hope filling in my chest like a helium balloon. Would we finally be normal?
“No,” Vic responded.
Just like that the balloon popped.
“I could work less, though.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You could?”
“I could,” Vic said, pulling me closer. “Could you visit me?”
“Perhaps,” I said coyly, feeling the first glimmer of genuine hope in a long time.
Maybe Vic and I were possible. As twisted and fucked up as our relationship was, maybe it could work.
Vic snatched my chin gently between his fingers. “I’m not kidding, Lennox. I need you, more than I need water. Will you work with me on this?”
I swallowed, my throat feeling thick. Who were we kidding? Vic and I were like good and evil, light and dark, one does not exist without the other. We could keep pretending that we didn’t need each other, but all we were doing was fighting nature. Eventually, we would come together whether through a drawn out bloody battle or the compromise Vic was proposing.
“Yes,” I replied, unable to stop myself from smiling.
“Goddamn right you will,” Vic answered, capturing my mouth in a kiss. When Vic pulled back, his eyes were cloudy.
“What?” I asked, concern twisting my voice. Had I hoped too soon? I felt fear gnawing at my stomach. Vic was going to change his mind. He didn’t want to work on us. He didn’t want to be with me.
“I want you to be happy, Lennox,” Vic said, voice hoarse. “Find a man, settle down, have kids. I can’t give you that. I can’t ever give you that.”
I sighed, relieved, and said, “So you want me to be happy in the 1950s?”
“I don’t want to hold you back anymore.” Vic’s eyes were onyx swirls, hypnotizing me.
I had to make him see he wasn’t holding me back. He had set me free. Without him, I was trapped, alone and empty. Without him, nothing made sense. He was my other half. It was romantic, cliché, bullshit, but that didn’t stop it from being true.
Staring back into his eyes, I said: “You own me, Vic.”
Thank you for reading You Own Me, book one in the Owned series! As a special treat, here is the first chapter of the next book in the series, Let Me Go, coming December 2015. Keep in mind that this is unedited so it may contain some errors and is subject to change!
Synopsis of Let Me Go
I see something in Eli that he can’t see himself.
He’s brilliant.
He’s compassionate.
And I’d be nothing if it weren’t for him,
so I have to let him go.
It’s for his own good
.
Eli sees something in Grace that she can’t see herself.
She’s resilient.
She’s a extraordinary.
And he’d be nothing without her.
Eli’s determined to get her back.
It’s for his own good.
Told in the past and present, Let Me Go is the harrowing love story of Grace Wall and Eli Jackson. Beaten and bruised but never knocked down, Eli and Grace are faced with the question: What must you lose to have it all?
Let Me Go is book two in the Owned series but can be read as a standalone.
WARNING:
Contains graphic violence and sex. This book may be a trigger as it contains abuse themes.
I stared at a black painted door. I’d traveled two thousand miles from Nowhere, Georgia to get to this place: a black door. Beyond this door was my fate. Beyond this door held the key to everything. Beyond this door my brother lived.
Or at least that’s what I hoped.
Did I hope that? My hand was up, fist curled ready to knock, but my brain wasn’t sending the right signals.
Here I was, having traveled all this way just to meet my brother, yet I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t knock.
I was fixing to turn around and walk my way back to Georgia, when the door opened on my frozen fist. A tall woman stood in the doorway. She was absolutely stunning. With red hair, blue eyes, and classically good looks, I suddenly felt unworthy.
“Oh!” The woman jumped back upon seeing me, a trash bag in her hand. I eyed the trash bag, my hand still posed to knock.
I coughed, brining my hand from knocking position to my mouth.
“Excuse me miss,” I said. “I’m lookin’ for Vic Wall. Does he live here?”
“Vic!” The woman yelled, turning her head back to the apartment. She dropped the trash but didn’t leave the doorway. “A woman is here for you. Do you have another wife I don’t know about?” Leaning casually against the frame, the woman brought her attention back to me.
“Do you mind if I ask how you know Vic?” She asked, smiling warmly.
I swallowed. I’d prepared myself for the inevitable confrontation with Vic, but not for this woman. I had no idea how to respond to her. Time ticked pass in slow motion as I thought of what to say. Do I tell the truth? Do I stall? Do I outright lie?
“I’m not his wife,” I said, trying to make a joke. The delivery was bland as I was nervous and scared.
“Oh of course not!” She laughed playfully.
Her laugh faded and we settled back in to an awkward silence. She smiled at me kindly. I smiled back, like a dumb mute. As I opened my mouth to speak, not prepared for what was going to come out, I was saved by the sound of another voice.
“Oh ha ha, Lenny. I only had the one hidden wife.”
My stomach dropped. Despite the constant slew of pep talks running in my mind, I still wasn’t ready to meet Vic.
My big brother.
My only sibling.
My last real family.
He’d abandoned me; left me all alone with Daddy and moved on to greater things. He sounded happy. He sounded fulfilled. No doubt he was, living with this supermodel and having the time of his life.
I realized then that I hated him.
“One is really more than enough,” The woman, or I guess her name is “Lenny,” replied dryly. I was barely paying attention to their conversation. All I could concentrate on was the inevitability of my brother’s appearance as she stepped aside to make room for him. I panicked. I tripped back, trying to exit before he appeared.
“You know what…” I started to form an excuse, any excuse so that I didn’t I have to see him. Even if it meant I had to leave and go back to my horrible life, it was better than seeing him that moment.
“Who is—”
Too late. Vic rounded the corner and upon seeing me his face dropped. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with filial hangups.
“Grace?” Vic spoke my name so quietly it barely registered.
“Grace?” The woman looked from Vic to me and back to Vic. “Who is Grace?” She looked at me, eyebrow raised. “You’re Grace? I’m missing something, obviously.”
“I am. I’m…” My tongue seized in my mouth. What was I doing here? I had no place to stay. No job. No lick of the kind of life I was interrupting. I wasn’t welcome.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” I turned around without another word and dashed down the hallway, disappearing in to the staircase. By the time the heavy iron door clanged shut, I was already two flights down and nearing the exit.
I’d made a huge mistake.
I sat alone at a coffee shop, drinking water because I didn’t have enough money to buy coffee. Five dollars for a small, I mean tall, coffee though? When did being Rockefeller become a prerequisite for ordering coffee?
I really wanted coffee, but I had to settle for water. At least the cool liquid was refreshing. I was tired from the bus ride, having only slept a few hours total in the past couple of days. It seemed like dreams were mixing with reality, and it was becoming harder and harder to control my thoughts. Memories were slipping past my usual defenses.
“What is that?”
“It’s a backpack.”
“I know what it is. Why do you have it?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Could you not cuss at me please?”
“Sorry… Just, I got word that you were leaving but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe you would just leave like this.”
“What did you think was going to happen?”
“Hey? Excuse me, hey?”
I blinked lazily, my mind caught in the past. A hand waved hurriedly in my face, trying to get my attention. I blinked some more, willing my thoughts to stay in the present, and followed the hand to its owner: a woman with ink black hair, macchiato skin, and freckles dusting the shoulders that peeked out from her off-the-shoulder shirt.
“I apologize,” I said, voice sluggish. “What do you need?”
“Did you see who took my bag?” The woman asked, eyes darting furiously around the shop.
“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard her properly.
“Over there,” She pointed to an empty couch, eyes still trained on me. The couch was the kind where people were supposed to lounge, drink coffee, and compose the next great American novel. “I left my bag there and now it’s gone. I was wondering if you saw someone take it. It must have happened in the last five minutes while I was in the bathroom.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, no. I was kinda lost in thought.” Lost in memories, more like. No matter how far I went, I still couldn’t escape my memories.
“Well that’s just fuckin’ great ain’t it?” The woman huffed a sigh and turned her attention back to the couch.
“I’m sorry,” I offered meekly.
“It’s not your fault,” the woman said, frowning. “I mean I’m the idiot who left her bag alone. Welcome to California, right?” She put her hands on her hips, frowning sorely at the empty spot on the couch.
“You’re new to California?” I set down my waning water and watched the woman. She looked young, probably around my age. She had big brown eyes and one arm of her coffee-colored skin was covered in colorful, floral tattoos.
She reminded me of a Spanish painting, the kind done on mosaic tiles. You know the kind, women with long eyelashes and big smiles wore red flowers in their hair and were dressed turquoise. I imagined that’s what she looked like when her bag hadn’t just been stolen.
“Yeah,” The painting continued. “I packed up my shit, said goodbye to my asshole boyfriend, and drove to the Sunshine State.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s Florida.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to have to go back now. Back to stupid, bum-fuck-nowhere, Louisiana. That backpack had all my cash, my I.D., and my last snickers bar.”
“That sucks.” I watched her through tired eyes, wish
ing I could offer her more than my sympathy. Sympathy was all I had to my name right now, though.
“Right?” She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m fucking hungry.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. She watched the empty space on the couch, her intense stare almost willing the backpack to return. A plan began to form in my head. A reckless plan. A stupid plan. But then, I’d played it safe my whole life and that hadn’t stopped the bad from happening. This vivacious stranger appeared to me as an answer to my problems.
“You have a car?” I asked. She turned back to me, her dark eyebrow raised.
“Shitty car,” she answered, tone suspicious.
I didn’t have a car. I came all the way on a bus. I had about thirty dollars left to my name (and I really wasn’t looking forward to hitch-hiking back home with my tail between my legs when that ran out), a fifteen hundred dollar credit limit, and no where to go. I had no friends. I was one sip of water and one more dose of bad luck away from being in her exact situation.
“I don’t have a car,” I said.
She lifted her eyebrow higher. “What, you want to take my car too?”
I shook my head. “I came all the way from Georgia. I only have about thirty bucks to my name.”
She folded her arms, still not getting where I was going. “So you want a lift to the shelter?”
“Let’s team up.”
A smile formed on her face that lit me up from the inside out. She sat down next to me, closer than strangers should sit, and reached her hand out. I noticed the bright red nail polish. “I’m Vera.”
I gave her my hand. “Grace.”
“Oh look at that one!” Vera pointed animatedly at the computer screen, her bright red nails making small dents in the monitor.
“It’s three thousand dollars. A month.”
“But it’s nice right?”
You Own Me (Owned Book 1) Page 27