by Kitty Berry
Jordan laughs. “Don’t bother, Callan. I’m not there and I’m not going back. Don’t call me again.”
Jordan disconnects the call and it sounds as abrupt as it did when my sister used to slam down the old-school rotary phone left from the dark ages that our mother insisted on keeping hanging on our kitchen wall for when the apocalypse hit and rendered all other phones useless.
Then her words hit me. She’s not in the city? Didn’t she return with Ace and Bridget after the wedding? Or, fuck…maybe she and Tony stayed on in Falls Village on a romantic getaway like the one I had taken her to, the trip I had just dreamed about. Fuck!
Before I can fixate on Jordan, Brian pulls my attention as he calls my name. “Hey, Ian,” he says then remembers and corrects himself. “Ah, sorry. This Callan Black thing is going to take some getting used to. But, um, I was going to say, I think I slept last night.”
“Yeah, me too. How you feeling? It’s early. We’ll grab some breakfast then call the doctor I know. We should be on the road by ten.”
“On the road?”
“Yeah, we’re going to New York.”
Brian raises his eyebrows. “New York?”
“My,” I clear my throat to find an appropriate word to use and settle on, “company uses a guy in the city. We need to clear you before we can trust that you’re not going to harm anyone. After that, he can refer you to someone anywhere you want for ongoing care. Where do you live?”
Brian shrugs. “I’m not sure anymore.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t lying about wanting to open the nightclub here. I just don’t know if that’s feasible now with what I’ve done. This is Justin and Amanda’s home; they’re not going to like me settling here.”
He has a point. If Elliot hadn’t killed the motherfucker that stalked Jordan, there would be no way I’d let him move into the town where she was living. But Brian hadn’t even truly tried to harm Amanda, not the way Jim had with Jordan. Maybe Amanda and Justin can work something out with Brian, and they can find a way to live in Falls Village together in harmony.
“I’m not sure, dude. Let’s do one step at a time. You can shower first.”
Brian slowly gets out of bed, shaky on his legs after the previous day of drinking and the turn of events.
I watch his retreating back then adjust my morning wood in my pants. Hearing Jordan’s voice had made it next to impossible to get it to subside. I grasp my shaft and consider how long I’ll have before Brian will return and catch me jacking myself off.
Shrugging, figuring I have a good ten minutes, I lower the waistband of my sweats and free my erection. It bobs on my stomach once given freedom to stretch.
The first few strokes give me relief and feel good, not as good as if it were Jordan’s hand, but enough so that I know I can have myself coming before Brian catches me. The next glides of my palm have me groaning and needing to empty my balls, knowing that even if Brian were to walk back into the room now, I’d still need to finish myself off.
My thumb runs over the head of my shaft and collects the bead of moisture. I run it around the ridge just below as my hips begin to thrust my cock into my hand. “Fuck,” I say aloud as I feel another drop come to my head. Then, once slick, I start to stroke at the pace I like, firm and fast. I move my hand over my cock, hard and in need of a release, fast and with a grip just a smidge from painful. Then I begin to feel the tingling in my spine and the heating in my balls. It’s a sensation I usually like to savor. One, that when I’m with Jordan, I make her suspend me in until I can’t take another stroke without feeling as if my dick is going to split in half and my balls are going to burst. But with Brian now turning off the water, I know I don’t have that luxury. So, I lean back and continue my pace. I watch, a moment later, as my stomach is coated in my white release. Feeling relieved but unsatisfied, I clean myself up with a wad of tissues like a boy in his childhood bed and tuck my cock away as Brian comes back into the room.
“Bathroom’s all yours.”
I nod and go into the bathroom to take care of the rest of my morning routine.
Brian and I head for a quick breakfast in Waterland Isle, then head out for the city.
On the ride, my mind wanders to Jordan and where she could be if not in New York. At a rest stop, my curiosity gets the best of me and I breakdown and text Elliot.
Callan: Where the fuck is your sister-in-law? If she’s still with that douche…
I watch as the little dots bounce around and then his message appears and pisses me off. I know he’s only responding this way to goad me and it’s working.
Elliot: Your ex-girlfriend is in Falls Village.
Callan: WTF?
Elliot: Talk to her. Adams and I are not getting into the middle of your clusterfuck. Which, when drunk last night, your ex-girlfriend referred to it as a fustercluck so…
I don’t usually do emojis. In part because most emotions elude me, but also because they’re really meant for girls and douchebags. But right now, Elliot gets the middle finger then the angry swearing face before Brian is out of the bathroom and we’re heading back to the car.
We make good time and are at the safe house waiting on Mac before noon.
Mac brings the physician we use to evaluate Brian. He clears him, stating that he agrees wholeheartedly with my initial assessment of the effects of the sleep aids, warns against continuing the meds, and offers other solutions to his sleep troubles.
“I can figure out how to get back to Maine if you’re staying here.”
“Nah, I’m heading back. Got something there that needs fixing, so we’re good. Let’s grab some food then head back.”
On the way back to Maine, I try my best to work out a way to get Jordan to hear me out. But first, before I’m going to make my case, I’m planning on tossing her ass over my knee and spanking the shit out of her fine ass for not returning to New York and school. What the fuck is she thinking?
Calming myself by trying to consider rational solutions to why she would have stayed in Falls Village instead of being in the city leads me in directions I’m not liking. Things like maybe her brother is staying in Maine instead of with Morgan in New York, maybe her parents are sick and need her help, or could it be possible that she’s so over me she can’t stand to live in the same state?
So much for calming myself down with rational ideas.
We’re back in Maine by nightfall, and I drop Brian off at his hotel before heading back to my apartment above Colleen’s place.
I didn’t expect to see the lights on in the store, but when I pull up, there’s a warm glow coming from the windows.
I gently tap on the locked door as not to scare her and smile when she looks up to see me. Her face holds emotions I’m not versed in, and I furrow by brow in confusion. She smiles sadly in return to mine then meanders to let me in.
“Hey, Ian. I’m just…” She pulls in air in an attempt to hold back a sob.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” I ask as Colleen loses her fight with her tears and a sob shakes her body. I pull her in for a warm hug that is unlike me, but I like this woman and she makes showing her affection not as hard as it usually is for me. “And there’s something I need to tell you, but maybe I should ask if I can stay on upstairs for a little while longer first.”
“Um, why wouldn’t you be able to stay on? When I remodel, it’ll only effect the shop. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, Ian.”
“Yeah, that’s what I need to tell you. My name isn’t Ian, it’s Callan Black. I didn’t want to lie to anyone, but my job can be…complicated, so my hands were tied. I’m sorry.”
Colleen eyes me suspiciously, then a sad expression takes over once again. “That’s okay. I get it. Can I just ask if you’re going to be involved in dangerous shit? I can’t have you bringing that kind of thing here.”
“Nah, I’m one of the good guys and the case I worked is over. I’m staying on because of a girl, actually.”
That brings a warm smile to her face. “Someone I know? If she’s living here, I’ll know her. Maybe I can put in a good word for you.”
“She’s not from here. I’m not sure why she’s staying here, to be honest with you. Well, other than she probably doesn’t want to be in New York with me.”
“And now you’re here with her.”
I smirk.
“What’s her name?”
“Jordan Collins. She’s Courtney Montgomery’s sister, the new owner of the B and B.”
“I know Elliot. But I thought his wife’s name was Adams?”
“No, it’s Courtney. He calls her Adams because their lovey dovey and there’s some story behind it that I’ve barely paid attention to. So, I can stay?” I ask, changing the subject back to my needs.
“Sure. I like having you here.”
“Why were you crying?” I ask, then catch her looking longingly at the television that is set to a channel that broadcasts sports news. I see the story is about the NBA player that recently sustained a career ending injury the last time I was in here watching the game with her.
“You really are his number one fan, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m going to head up,” I say as I stand from the stool I had sat down on while we were talking. “I have a few things I need to work out. You going to be okay?”
“Sure. Good luck with Jordan. She’s been in here a few times with her sisters. She’s not a weak one, that girl. If you’ve done something to piss her off, you’re going to need all the luck you can get.”
I groan as I wave to Colleen, then turn and head up to my apartment to plot my next move where Jordan Collins is concerned.
Chapter Five
After a night of tossing and turning, I climb out of bed and head into the shower to take care of my erection that seems as excited as I am at the thought of seeing Jordan again.
Once that task is accomplished and I’m dressed and ready to go, I text Elliot.
Callan: Is she awake? I’m coming over. Don’t tell her.
Elliot: I’d come packing if I were you. It’s for your own safety. They’re all here, man, and it’s ugly. They were drinking and chanting again. Ace and I huddled outside; we were so scared!
Callan: That’s because you and Lyons have vaginas.
Elliot: You’re right. We own our wives’ pussy that we fuck on the regular. How’s your dick doing, pal? That hand of yours cramping up?
Callan: middle finger emoji
Elliot: I’ll be in the extra garage with Pete and Ace.
Callan: Hope the engine isn’t running. Not a good way to go out.
Elliot: WTF is wrong with you…LOL! I’m not killing myself. I need a man cave. My house has been taken over by my queen and her court. I need to be the king of the castle.
Callan: So your castle is an old rundown garage that smells like gasoline?
Elliot: Fuck you, Black. I’m getting laid on the regular. Remember that.
Callan: middle finger emoji again.
Pocketing my phone, I stroll to my car with a renewed bounce to my step. It’ll only be moments before I’ll have Jordan in my arms again and everything in my world can go back to being right. I’ve missed the equilibrium she brings me. Without her, I can feel my obsessions and compulsions returning ten-fold. I feel the mania in my head, and I don’t want to return to the way I was. I need her.
I park off to the side of the detached garage where Elliot has told me he’ll be working with Ace and his brother-in-law, Pete Roman. He’s determined to create a man cave fit for a king because, as he’s put it, his home has been taken over by the queen and her princesses. My girl is the head princess and I can’t wait to set eyes on her crown.
I get out of my car and contemplate going in search of her before Elliot. But afraid of what I might be facing, I decide to try to get the lay of the land first. I need Elliot to fill me in on why she’s still here and what went down with the girl’s last night. The drinking and chanting don’t sound promising and I know better than to walk into a minefield without backup.
“Hey,” I call as I enter what appears to be a work zone, saws buzzing and hammers banging away. “Your Majesty.”
Elliot turns and flips me off with his free hand while a hammer remains in his other. “Grab a tool and start demolishing shit. It’ll help with that sexual frustration you got. Give your palm a break.”
I flip him off in return, but he has a point. Reaching for a sledgehammer, my angst is real, I heave it over my shoulder and bring it down hard on a makeshift workbench.
“Feels good, right?” Ace Lyons, my other best friend, asks. “And I’m getting it three times a day…minimum. I love pregnant women.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Don’t ask,” Elliot warns. “He’s been bragging for weeks.”
“Well, he’s a douche, so…” I say with a laugh then jog to get away from the punch coming my way.
“Hey!” Pete yells over his saw. “I hear Hannah has a spot or three,” he shoots us a knowing glance. “at Lollipop Preschool. Want me to sign your asses up? It’s only a half day then you can come home and take naps like good little boys.”
Ace, Elliot, and I shake our heads to be dicks and being back with them like this starts to tip my world back on its axis. Now if I can just get Jordan to take me back, everything will be okay. “Ah,” I stutter. “What’s going on with the girls? Elliot said they were drinking and chanting last night.”
Ace huffs. “My wife wasn’t. Have I mentioned how pregnant I got her?”
“There are no levels of pregnancy, Lyons,” I state. “You fucked your wife, ejaculated inside her, and your sperm found and fertilized an egg. She’s pregnant. Anyone with a dick could have done it.”
Ace growls at my insinuation that any man could have fucked his wife just as well as him, and I’m forced to jog out of his punishing assault again. This time, he catches me and takes me to the floor.
After our scuffle, that Elliot joins, the three of us rolling around in sawdust and grime, I stand and brush myself off then reach into my pocket for a wet wipe to clean my hands.
Ace and Elliot’s eyes catch.
“Your OCD shit is coming back, Black. You need to fix this shit with Jordan. She’s the only thing that’s ever kept you semi-normal.”
“I know.” I sigh.
“That might be easier said than done,” Elliot reports, then he and Ace fill me in on the night prior and what had the Knight/Collins sisters, sans Bridget, drinking and chanting into the night.
Jenny had remained at the B and B after the wedding because she wasn’t due back on campus until the next semester commenced. Jordan had returned to New York with Tony in tow but then showed back up in Maine, alone and without explanation. Her sisters had inquired, but she’d shot them a look, quieting them in front of my best friends. Elliot and Ace had taken that as their cue to leave. Knowing that I’d have an unrelenting need to know, they’d implemented their operative skills and had left one of their phones in the room with the record mechanism activated.
I love my best friends!
“Get the booze and I’ll explain,” Jordan said. “And not the shitty stuff. I need hard liquor that isn’t going to give me a migraine while I’m puking into the toilet tomorrow morning.”
My friends report that they had gone into the kitchen and were able to hear bottles clanking and silly giggles from the girls as they suspected they were tucking into the good liquor Elliot had just stocked up on.
“They drank my good shit,” he says like a little bitch, interrupting Ace’s retell of the prior night.
“On the rag?” I ask him. “Stop fucking whining. You have money. Go buy more.”
Elliot shakes his head. “No. They’ll drink it again and they scare me when they do.”
I shoot my pussy of a friend, who is also an operative and trained killer, however, you wouldn’t know by the way four tiny woman scare his dick into hiding, a smug
smirk. “What could possibly scare you? They weigh one hundred pound each. I think you could take them.”
Elliot shakes his head. “No, they started a fire.”
I furrow my brow. “What? In the house?”
“Yeah, the fireplace.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you fucking serious?”
Ace breaks in. “No, hear him out. It’s scary shit, man. And it’s all aimed at you, so I’d be scared too, if I were you.”
I pull up a hunk of wood and plop down. I cross my leg over a knee and say, “Okay, tell me.”
“He’s cocky,” Ace says. “This isn’t going to end well. He’s going to think he can take them on.”
Elliot laughs then returns to the story of last night’s events.
Once they had the fire burning and the alcohol flowing, Bridget had demanded Ace get them pizzas and salads from the local takeout joint in town. Not wanting to miss what they were getting up to and worried about them burning down the house if left alone, Elliot had stayed back.
“I didn’t want to stay here alone with them. I did that for you, man. You owe me one.”
“I’ll buy you a motherfucking pink balloon for being a good boy.” I sneer.
Instead of responding to my comment, Elliot reports the events while I listen with my mouth agape.
“I thought you said that getting laid at a wedding was a given?” Jenny asked her sisters. “Because I tried, but yet here we are with my V card still in my pocket.”
“I was talking in general terms and not thinking when I told you that,” Jordan said while gulping down a glass of wine. “I didn’t take into account that there wouldn’t be a bunch of single guys with their dicks out.”
“Tony took his out,” Jenny said. “And he’s single.”
“Don’t remind me. And you’re not giving him your virginity.”
Courtney smirked at her sister. “Jealous?”
Jordan laughed then stood and got herself another glass of wine. “No, and I need a shot. Let’s do them together and then I have something to tell you.”
Before they were able to do that shot, they heard a ruckus from upstairs. Thinking it was Elliot, Jordan tried to brush it off, but Jenny had gone running in the direction of the crash. The remaining three sisters had shrugged and settled in, cozy by the fire that signified their girl power and solidarity to Jordan in her attempt to rid me from her memory.