Fine. Effort has brought me success. Effort has brought me the ability to bring down Peter DeLaCoeur if I can stay the course. Effort has allowed me to hone myself into the perfect instrument of my vengeance. I can beat this too, dammit.
I go over to my meditation corner, lighting the candle there. It's a new one, a gift from Darcy after her most recent visit, with a fresh ocean scent and supposedly a guaranteed twelve hour burn time. Instead of meditating, however, I stretch out, cradling my head in my arms as I let myself drift, searching for something I can hold onto to pull myself out of the depression.
What comes to mind startles me, and I sit up. Jackson? What the hell? He's a damn playboy, despite whatever he may have said when he visited. Yeah, it was noble, yeah he may have risked the wrath of his father... but he's still wrapped up in being a douchebag.
I lie back down, letting my mind drift again, but it keeps circling back, refusing to let go of Jackson. He can't be all bad, after all. If he wasn't lying about his physique being all natural...
“It's all natural,” Jackson teases me, stretching out beside me. “After all, steroids cause shrunken balls. Did they look shrunken to you?” He's got a point. I remember what his cock looked and felt like in the limo, he's certainly not lacking in the size department with either the twig or the berries.
“I guess I owe you some credit for that,” I say, reaching out and touching his arm. He's wearing a white dress shirt and charcoal gray slacks, although since we're lying down he's taken off his shoes. “So why'd you put so much effort into lifting?”
“To escape my sadness,” he whispers, reaching out and brushing my cheek. “When you left... you left a hole inside me. That, combined with the rest, I had to pour it out somewhere.”
“You... you were on my mind, too,” I admit, laying my hand on his side. “I really thought you were special, and that someday you were going to ask me out on a date, not just over to build models or study or play video games.”
“I would have,” Jackson says, easing closer. We're close, and I can feel the warmth and magnetism of his body so close, my heart beating faster in my chest. I'm not a virgin since I had to practice my seduction and erotic skills on someone, but I've never actually made love before. My heart has never been opened to anyone... but Jackson. And even then, that was a whole different me. “I was going to, and I wanted to kiss you, too. Remember that last time we played in the pool?”
I chuckle, nodding. “You kept staring at my butt. I thought I was getting a wedgie or something.”
Jackson shakes his head, his hand stroking down my back to rest on my hip, just on the upper curve of my butt. “Not quite.”
I reach my own hand down, fully cupping his ass.
Jackson leans forward, and we kiss, not like in the limo where I was giving him seductive kisses that never touched his lips but real, tender, and heartfelt ones. His lips caress mine, our tongues reaching out, probing each other, as I taste the wonderful, sexy man in front of me.
I moan when his hand comes down and grabs my ass, his strong hand kneading the flesh and muscle. I've always favored my ass over the rest of my body, and Jackson somehow knows, pulling me on top of him and grabbing with both hands as I laugh. “Mmm... you're more aggressive than I thought you'd be after I nearly broke your arm.”
“I like to live dangerously,” he teases. “Or at least, you inspire me to.”
We kiss and grind against each other, Jackson slipping his hands inside the waistband of my pants and grabbing the naked skin underneath. I'm hot, so hot I can't believe it, it's never felt this good before. Even when Carla taught me the Touches, it was never with this feeling inside my chest, never this dam that threatens to explode and consume me with what's held behind it.
I sit up, groaning when my hips straddle Jackson's and I feel his cock pushing up at his pants, my pussy aching for it to fill me. Still, I reach down and begin unbuttoning his shirt, easing the cloth to the side with each button, exposing his perfect chest and stomach. Every muscle is defined, his skin slightly tanned and hairless, not at all like my pale skin that barely sees the light of day most of the time. His nearly white hair and blue eyes gleam in the light of the candle, and as my hand goes over his heart, he lets go of my hips to cover his hand. We don't say anything, just look at each other. There's no need for words, not right now.
I finish unbuttoning his shirt and Jackson sits up, shrugging out of it before wrapping his arms around me in an embrace, the passion creeping out. We're hungry, devouring each other, pushing clumsily at the pants keeping us from what we need. Somehow we roll as we strip, until I'm underneath Jackson, his cock probing at the entrance to my pussy, his eyes sparkling as he looks into my eyes. “How do you feel about me?”
“I loved you then,” I tell Jackson, and he pauses, tears in his eyes.
“I love you now,” he replies, pushing in. He's perfect, filling me the way that no partner has ever done before. He slides in and out, my body lighting up, his cock giving me sensations I've never felt before. He's just on the edge of being rough, a little but not too much, driving his cock into me over and over, his mouth kissing me hard, almost bruising. I claw at his back as pleasure explodes over and over in my body, battering at the walls around my heart, electricity tingling along every inch of my skin. Jackson's powerful but tender, rough but gentle, and I'm washed away, giving in to him and submitting to my every desire.
I open up to him, and in that instant, I see it all. I see a future I've never imagined before, of happiness, of growing old next to him, of children running in a park, of snowcapped mountains and high lakes. I see...
It's all washed away as Jackson's cock drives in again and again, pushing me toward the edge. I can feel him trembling, holding back to take care of me, and I kiss him, as tenderly as I can with the way my body is being hammered higher and higher. “Jackson... I'm... I'm...”
I can't say anymore as he pushes me over the edge, and whiteness fills my heart and my mind, driving away the darkness that has been ever present for the past decade. His heart, his love obliterates it, banishing it away, and as my orgasm fills me with light, I feel him shudder and fill me again, his cock exploding deep inside me.
“I'll always love you,” Jackson whispers as he gathers me. “There is nothing we should be quite so grateful for as the last line of the poem that goes, 'When your own heart asks.'”
“When you own heart asks...” I repeat, the quote from Hagakure echoing in my thoughts as I come back to reality. My body aches, unfulfilled desire aching in my loins and my nipples tight in my sports bra. I sit up, shaking my head again. A fantasy lover, never to be found in the real world. And what's this bullshit about a future? About love? My life is going to be measured in terms of days and hours once I unleash the next broadside against Peter DeLaCoeur.
But I can't deny the depression that was threatening me is pushed back a bit, and I feel a lighter. I'm shaken, though... Jackson? And what about my fantasy... is it true? Did I love him? Do I love him?
I get up off my meditation mat and blow out the candle, heading for my food area. I feel good enough to make some dinner, and then maybe I can get back to work on verifying some of Peter's criminal connections. I'm hacking a casino, the same one that I released the security camera footage from. Unfortunately, their security server is different from their financial server, and the security on it is more closely held.
Still, before I sit down at my computer, I think back to my fantasy. Jackson? Really? But...
A knock comes at my door, and I look up. It's familiar, even if I've heard it only once before.
“Kat! Open up, please! It's me!”
I go over and check my peephole, even though I'm already reaching for the lock. He's outside, and in the dim light of my security light, he looks panicked. “Kat... Katrina! Open up!”
I pull the bolt and open the door, Jackson stepping back enough to let the door open enough for him to get inside. As soon as he’s able, he pushes past me and I c
lose the door. “What's this about, Jackson?”
Jackson shifts from side to side, his eyes flicking around the shadowed space of my loft. “Kat, you need to run. Peter's angry, and I don't know if I can keep you safe any longer.”
“Talk.”
Chapter 12
Jackson
Looking at Katrina in the dim light, the first urge I have is to pull her to me, to hold her and protect her. I resist the urge only by pushing past her and reminding myself of the task at hand. I don’t want to be the man whose mind cares about nothing but sex.
“What do you mean, keep me safe?” she asks after her one-word command. She locks the door, and I notice that this time, she didn't have her pistol with her when she answered the door. Why?
“Where's your pistol?” I ask, still looking around. “And is that all you have?”
“It's all I've needed,” Kat says in a relaxed voice, going over to her computer desk and taking the pistol out. “I've been doing maintenance on it today.”
“Yeah well, I hope it's in perfect condition,” I say, wanting to sit down but not knowing where. The loft is nearly black inside, with only the light from Kat's monitor illuminating anything. “Jesus Katrina, can you turn on a light?”
Katrina makes her way past me and hits a switch, illuminating what looks like, of all things, a line of white Christmas lights that stretches around her living area and over her bed. “That's new.”
“I used other lights last time. I picked these up because I can run them off a couple of double A batteries if I want,” she says, sitting down in her desk chair. “I have enough costs with just keeping my computer going. So what did you mean, Jackson? You didn't show up panicked at my door telling me Peter's going to be coming after me just to see my home lights.”
I try to find a place to sit down, finally giving up and pointing to her bed. “May I?”
“Go ahead. But get to talking, Jackson.”
I can barely call this a bed, it's so thin and uncomfortable. I think I might be more comfortable sitting on the floor as I adjust myself. “You know, you don't have to bitch at me about it, Kat. I'm serious when I said I'm here for the right reasons. Peter saw your most recent hit on him. Your friends in the online media need to watch themselves also, but Peter knows that he can't hit at them easily or invisibly. He hits you, though... hell, Kat, you don't even exist. Nathan took a week to find you, and he's one of the best in the city at it. And Peter went through the roof at this one. You touched a nerve that he isn't going to let go of.”
“I don't want him letting go,” Katrina says, her voice intense again. “I want him to latch on so that I can drag him into the light of day with it, then drive a stake through his fucking heart like a vampire.”
“Yeah well, I don't want to see you dead because of it!” I yell back, then settle back on the bed. “For fuck's sake, I know you don't care, but I care if you live through this or not.”
“And yourself?” Katrina asks, but this time, there's a bit of softness in her voice. “And what's with Peter?”
“He threw a tantrum today... Jesus, how I ever thought that man could have been my father. Throwing things, then he tells Nathan to hunt you down and cut your throat in front of me, because I dared to say that your little act may not have been from you. Then afterward, he tells me that if I ever contradict him in public again, he'll have my throat cut. So I went and talked to Nathan.”
“And what did Staff Sergeant Black say about it?” Kat asks, something I didn't know. She notices my surprise, and smirks. “I know all about him, remember? Give me five minutes, and I could have his last commanding officer's home phone number.”
I sigh, then half-laugh. She's still a step ahead of me, but I have to get through to her. “He says that he won't come after you. But he also knows that Peter is going to send someone else after you if he doesn't produce results. And he has to look like he's doing something, or else he's going to end up just as dead as Peter wants you to be. There's more than one way to kill someone in New Orleans.”
Kat nods, then leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “You look more awake than you were before, at least. You understand the stakes of this battle. Either I take him down, or I die. I may die either way.”
“I don't want that, Katrina!” I repeat vehemently. “I want you to live!”
“Why? Why give a damn about me?”
Her quiet question, barely above a whisper, cuts me off, and I look at her again. Her hair is totally black in the dim light from the Christmas LEDs, but those eyes of hers... like two tears in the middle of that perfect face. “Because you were one of the only decent things in my childhood, Kat. We met when we were both six, and even then, I knew my mother hated me. She kept telling me how I'd ruined her figure, how it was my fault that Peter was the way he was. I didn't understand it at the time, but I did the math later... Peter was already having an affair with Andrea's mother before I was even born. I didn't understand it at the time, and thought it was all my fault.”
“It never was,” Kat says, getting off her chair and sitting on the other end of the bed. She crosses her legs, kind of yoga style, or maybe in a meditation pose. “But go on.”
“From the beginning, you were my best friend... hell, for a lot of it, my only friend. Andrea didn't even speak English at first when she came to the house, and she and I have never got along all that well, at least until the past few days. We never did really, although I remember that you two sometimes played together. But most of the time you and I played together. I looked forward every day when you would pull up in that Ford Crown Vic that your dad drove, because it meant a whole afternoon or a full day if it was a Saturday where I felt like a normal kid, and not the son of...”
“Of what?” Katrina asks softly.
“Of a human snake,” I say after a moment. “Even when I was little, I think I knew about my... about Peter at some level. When everyone else was able to bring their parents to school for those silly days, he was never able to go. Then there were all the other signs... the sports cars, the clothes, the constant pretty girls who kept coming to the house. The son of a bitch didn't even worry about trying to hide his cheating even, although he's gotten worse as Andrea and I have gotten older. And through it all, I was the one blamed by Mom, and more or less ignored by Peter. To him, I was just an... an accessory, I guess. Something to check off the box, saying he'd done what needed to be done to complete his bucket list on life.”
“But with me, you felt different?”
I nod, smiling for the first time in what feels like all day. “Yeah. We clicked from the beginning, Katrina. I mean sure, you and I have our differences. Even back then we had those. But you liked so many of the things I liked, and every time you and I got together... it was magic to me. You know, I'd trade all the groupies, all the cars and the drugs and the parties for another chance to sit down with you and complete that stupid Corvette that I threw out later?”
“So why didn't you try and find me?” Katrina asks, and I can hear the hurt in her voice. “I spent six years in foster care, and a lot of that was hell. Even with Virginia, there was a lot of hell I went through.”
“At first, I was just told you were gone,” I answer. “Later, when I found out that your parents had been killed, I was told you were sent to live with your grandparents in Vermont. Since I didn't know anything about your grandparents, and I didn't know how much my parents lied to me on a constant basis... I believed it. But without you in my life, without that normalcy... I realize now that I've become too much like my father. I may have all my hair still, and there's a lot less fat around my waist, but in too many other ways, I've walked down his path. Except for one.”
“Which is?”
“I don't want you to die, Katrina. You were my friend, and since seeing you...” I stop, unable to finish what I want to say. “I don't want you hurt. You talk about going through a decade of hell, and I don't doubt it. But I've been through my own kind of hell for my entire lif
e, especially when my best friend and the only girl I... liked was taken from me. But if I have to, I'd rather go through that again than have you hurt.”
I look down at my shoes, noting that I'm still wearing the same muddy and stained loafers I'd put on this morning, in fact, I'm wearing the same stuff that I wore for my walk with Nathan. It's filthy, and for the first time in years, I don't really care.
Katrina surprises me by reaching out and putting a hand on my arm, and I look up, into her glittering eyes. “I believe you,” she says softly. “Jackson... you were the only thing I missed from my old life once I accepted that my parents were dead. But I'm not going to stop, and I'm not going to run. If Peter wants to send his men after me... it's going to cost him a lot to get my head on a stick.”
“You sound a lot like Nathan,” I mutter, but I can feel her hand through my shirt, and I want her so damn bad. I want to feel her fingers on my skin again, not on my shirt. I want to kiss those lips, to see those tear-colored eyes change to what I know they can be, a clear blue like the Caribbean. I want to hold her and tell her that the pain can go away, for both of us. I want all of that, but I don't move. The hurt and distrust is still too much inside her, I can tell.
“He's misguided, but somewhat honorable still,” Katrina says. “You can learn something from him, if you study him closely enough.”
“There are other things, other people I'd rather learn from, even if he is interesting,” I reply, letting go of my pain some and covering her hand with mine. “Katrina, I want you safe... but if not, I want to be part of your life.”
Kat's about to answer, when her computer beeps and she looks over, breaking the tension between us. She pulls her hand free and goes over, pulling up a window. She's quiet for a few minutes as she reads and types, then leans back, her face slack. “Oh my God.”
Alpha's Baby: A Secret Baby Romance Page 33