by Laura Lee
Not.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JAZZ
The scotch Kingston and Bentley had consumed earlier kicked in shortly after the bathroom incident, plus they smoked a little weed, so thankfully, the testosterone has been taken down several notches. Both men are so large that they still fully have their wits about them—unlike someone with a much smaller stature—but they've chilled out quite a bit. Reed's the only one who is completely sober, but he looks ready to fall on his face.
“Welp, I’m out,” Reed says. “You guys have fun.”
“Later, man,” Kingston and Bentley say in unison.
“See ya,” I mutter as Reed’s halfway out the door.
I head to the bar and mix myself another vodka cran. I know I said I wouldn't drink tonight, but after learning all that shit about the police corruption, on top of all the other fucked up shit going on with Preston and Charles, all I want to do is drown my sorrows. I've only had two drinks, so I'm barely buzzed, but I need more to quell this panic rising inside of me. I'm trying hard not to flip the fuck out, but my brain won't shut up.
“Hey.” Kingston grabs the glass out of my hand and sets it to the side. Fuck, I’m so inside my head, I didn’t even see his approach. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m fine.”
“Really?” His eyebrows lift. “Aren’t you the one who told me you know ‘fine’ doesn’t really mean fine?”
“That rule doesn’t apply when I’m the one saying it.”
Kingston takes my hand and leads me back to the couch. “Sit down with me for a sec.”
Bentley grabs his pipe and refills the bowl before passing it to me. “Relax, baby girl. You’re making me anxious, and that's a damn near impossible feat with all the THC I have floating in my system."
He flicks the lighter while I press my lips to the mouthpiece and inhale. I take a little too much and wind up in a coughing fit, making both guys laugh.
I flip ‘em the bird. “Fuck off. Like it’s never happened to you.”
I pass the pipe to Kingston, but he declines, setting it on the coffee table. “What’s going on in that head of yours? No bullshit this time.”
I shrug. "I can't turn my brain off. The police stopping their investigation, the missing evidence, the proof that once again, money talks, or blackmail, or what-the-fuck-ever these assholes are using to cover their tracks. I can't stop wondering how many other victims are out there, suffering the same fate because some evil bastard had the right connections. How many unavenged assault cases are sitting in a file collecting dust? All the while, the victims are living in this constant state of terror. How does someone continue with their life, trying to find some semblance of normalcy when they're continually expecting their own personal boogie man to jump out of the shadows?"
Kingston’s hand lands on my bouncing thigh. “Hey. That’s not going to happen. I’m not giving up. John’s not giving up. We will do everything in our power to figure this out. You’re not alone in this, Jazz.”
Bentley bumps his arm against mine. “It’s true, Jazzy. We’re here for you one hundo percent, girl.”
“You guys can’t be with me every second of every day.”
“The fuck we can’t,” Kingston scoffs. “If that’s what it takes to ease your mind, that’s what we’ll do.”
I shake my head. “You can’t slay every goddamn dragon out there that looks at me funny. And I don’t want you to. Don’t you get it? I have to do this for myself. I have to show them I’m stronger than they think. I refuse to let those fuckers win. I will not give them that power over me!”
He cups my face in his hands. "Hey, you won't. I promise we'll fix this."
I brush his hands away. “Did you know that everywhere I go, everything I do, I’m waiting for the assholes who attacked me to show up? Wondering if they’re watching me. Sometimes, I swear I hear his voice—the fuckwit who beat the crap out of me—in the hallways at school. And then I ask myself, could it be someone from Windsor? Do we share any classes? Do they see me every weekday, laughing amongst themselves about how clueless I am that they're right in front of my face? Don't even get me started on the fact that every suspect we have may not be a suspect after all." I fist my hair and scream in frustration. "All these unknowns are driving me fucking crazy."
Is this what my mom lived with for however many years? Was she always looking over her shoulder? I don’t know how she survived with her sanity intact, let alone being such an incredible mother of two.
I blink through a thick layer of tears. “And then there’s the camera in my bedroom. I know I said I was fine with it, but I’m not fucking fine with it, Kingston.”
“Wait...what camera?” Bentley asks.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” I tuck my legs under me, turning toward Bent. There’s a manic edge to my voice, but I couldn’t give a single fuck right now. “There’s a hidden spy camera in my bedroom. And only my bedroom. My pervy dad, or his pervy dad" —I hitch my thumb over my shoulder— "or Madeline, or Peyton, or whichever other psycho in my life wants to watch me is watching me. They’ve seen me naked. They’ve seen me thrash about when I’m having nightmares. They’ve seen me do other things! God, the thought of what they’re doing with that particular footage makes my skin crawl.”
Bentley’s jaw clenches as he looks over my shoulder. “Why is it still there? Can you figure out who’s on the other end?”
Kingston grips each side of my waist and pulls me back into him. I know he's trying to ground me, to ward off my hysteria, but it's not helping. "Not without tipping them off. John thinks Callahan may have installed it to monitor Jazz to see if her mom told her anything incriminating about them, but we don't know for sure."
Bentley’s dark chocolate eyes drill into me. “You have to get out of that house, Jazz.”
“I’ve told her the same fucking thing,” Kingston adds.
I roll my eyes. “Not this again.”
Bentley throws his hands up. “What the hell does that mean? Why would you stay there? You know we’ll take care of you. It’s not like you’d be on the streets.”
I fly off the couch and point an accusing finger at Kingston. “For the same reason he’s still living at his house even though he can afford to buy a two million dollar car! I don’t want them to know that I’m on to them. I need to be close enough to get information if they slip up. I need to know the truth about my mom! I need to ensure that what she went through wasn’t in vain. I need to know if they...if she was...if they...”
I’m losing my train of thought. I can’t fucking think. It’s too much. Everything is too goddamn much. I angrily swipe at my tears as I sob uncontrollably. How is this my life? This isn’t a life; it’s a fucking living nightmare. I just want to wake up in my old shitty apartment, see my sister in the bed across from me, holding her stuffed panda. My mom would still be alive. Charles Callahan wouldn’t exist. None of this would fucking exist.
“Jazz, breathe.” Kingston is standing in front of me, lips moving, but I can’t hear him over the noise in my head.
My throat is constricting. Spots flicker before my eyes. There’s this charged tension in the air, dancing around me, making me dizzy. I’m weightless. Floating. I feel like a specter, witnessing someone else’s meltdown.
“Kingston, fucking do something!” I think that was Bentley. He’s standing now, too, running his hand along my back, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Hell, maybe I have.
Kingston’s face is so close, some of the spots fade away. “Jazz, look at me.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me so hard, my teeth rattle. “Fucking look at me! Breathe, goddammit!”
I can see the fear in his greenish-gold eyes. He wants to make the pain stop, but doesn’t he know he can’t make it stop? I’m flayed open, raw, nerve endings exposed. I don’t know if anything can make it stop. I can’t pretend to be okay anymore. I just can’t.
Kingston’s fingertips are bruising as he grips my jaw, but I
welcome the pain. “Fuck. Baby, you have to breathe. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
Whatever Kingston sees in my eyes has him launching into action. My body jerks in shock as his lips press against mine. It's like I've been hit with a bolt of lightning as he pries my mouth open, sliding his tongue against mine. Kingston pulls back after a moment, and I gasp, greedily gulping in precious air. He opens his mouth to say something, but I don't give him a chance. I grip the back of his neck and pull him into me. Now, I’m the one kissing him, but it doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate.
Blissful silence surrounds me as our kiss deepens, and our hands roam, but the panic resurfaces at the sudden absence of heat. I open my eyes to find Bentley trying to slip away.
Without thinking, I rip my mouth away from Kingston’s and cry, “Don’t.”
Bentley freezes in place, instantly bathing me in relief.
Kingston looks at me questioningly. His eyes bounce back and forth between Bentley and me, searching for answers I don't know how to provide. I don't know exactly what I’m asking for. Words are inadequate. All I know right now is need. I need to feel safe. I need to feel loved. I need to feel whole. A giant piece of my heart has been missing since my mom's beautiful soul left this earth. I'm tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of feeling broken. I’m tired of feeling numb.
I’m just so. Fucking. Tired.
Kingston’s eyes lock on Bentley’s before giving his friend an almost imperceptible nod. If I wasn’t watching him so carefully, I would’ve missed it.
Kingston takes my arms and raises them straight above my head. His fingers curl under the hem of my shirt, briefly clenching the material in his fists before lifting it over my head. He pops the button on my pants next, waiting for permission to continue. I slide the zipper down and push them over my hips, wordlessly giving him the green light. Bentley groans as Kingston crouches down, first removing my shoes one by one, then my socks, then finally, my pants. I’m left standing in my bra and panties, while both men are still fully dressed.
Kingston gently wipes my remaining tears away before leaning down to whisper in my ear. "If this is what you need right now, we'll take care of you, but you have to be sure Jazz. You can't take it back. I don't want you to regret this."
I honestly don’t know if I’m going to regret this come morning. Or what exactly is about to happen. But what I do know is that life is unpredictable. Life is short. I’m unsure of many things, but I’ve never felt safer than in their arms. And the one thing I’m most certain of? Kingston and Bentley will give me what I so desperately need right now: They’ll make me feel alive.
I give Kingston a single nod. “I’m sure.”
A low rumble sounds in Kingston's chest before he pulls back slightly. Our eyes meet, and we have one of those strange, wordless conversations we're so good at. I'm telling Kingston it's time for him to take charge because I don't want to think; I only want to feel. He tells me he knows where my boundaries lie better than I do, and he promises not to let anyone cross them, least of all me.
Bentley is watching us on bated breath, waiting to see his role in all of this. The bulge in his pants reflects his excitement, but his mocha eyes are filled with curiosity. Astonishment.
Kingston takes a deep breath and briefly closes his eyes. When he opens them, they're filled with determination as he reaches one arm behind his neck and removes his t-shirt. Then, he grabs my face and kisses the shit out of me until I'm breathless and aching. At some point, Kingston beckons Bentley closer, and I sigh against Kingston's mouth as Bentley's bare chest warms my back. I have no idea when he took his shirt off, but the feeling of being sandwiched between these two men, skin to skin, is indescribable. Bentley's fingertips trail down my sides, eliciting a full-body shiver. When he reaches the curve of my ass, a groan is ripped from his throat as he palms my cheeks with both hands.
“Fuck, Jazz.” Bentley’s tone is adoring. Reverent.
I break my kiss with Kingston and turn to face Bentley. With slow deliberation, I slide my hands up the firm muscles of his arms until my fingers are linked behind his neck. “Hi.”
Bent’s sexy as fuck dimples pop out when a grin stretches across his face. “Hey, Jazzy.”
Bentley cups my face with both hands, slowly pulling me closer, giving me plenty of chances to back out. When I rise up on my toes to close the remaining gap, Bentley breathes out a curse as our lips meet. I moan when he slides his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss. Bentley's lips are soft, yet demanding. Firm yet pliable. I can taste the liquor on his tongue, the faint notes of spiced plums hitting my taste buds.
Kingston’s belt buckle clangs as it hits the ground. He releases the clasp of my bra and pushes down the straps, freeing my breasts. I whimper into Bentley’s mouth as Kingston’s hands find my boobs, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, with the perfect balance between pleasure and pain.
I keep one hand on the back of Bentley’s neck and hook the other behind Kingston’s neck. When I break away from Bentley, I immediately step into Kingston and claim his mouth again. He lifts me off my toes as he kisses me with even more ferocity than before. I’m sure he can taste Bentley on my lips, and now his inner caveman is trying to assert its claim.
I hear the telltale signs of Bentley removing his own pants, and a quick peek proves me right. Both he and Kingston are seriously testing the limits of their boxer briefs, making a thrill race through me. There's entirely too much sexy in this room. Both men have strong legs and thick biceps. Ridiculously rippled abs and a deeply carved V framing their thin treasure trails. Their bodies are works of art, plain and simple, and they both damn well know it.
I gasp as Bentley’s fingers brush the underside of my breasts. “Fuck, Jazz. You have no idea how badly I want this. How badly I want you. We’re going to make you feel so good, baby.”
I turn back to Bent and run my finger over the small tattoo on his chest. The words, “Sleep well, Tiny Dancer” are written in a delicate script right above his heart.
I brush my fingers over the cryptic phrase. “What’s this mean?”
Bentley frowns and shakes his head. “Not here. Not now. I swear I’ll explain later.”
Kingston drops back to the couch and extends his hand. “Come here.”
I sit next to him, but Kingston’s not having any part of that. He effortlessly lifts me up and places me on his lap. Instinctively, I grind into the hardness beneath me, causing us both to suck in a harsh breath.
“Lie back,” Kingston commands, guiding my upper body against his. My spine bows as Kingston’s hands skate down my torso, dipping below the waistband of my flimsy panties. “Bent, you wanna help me out here?”
Bentley’s muttering something under his breath, but I can’t quite make out the words. I’m pretty sure “Praise Jesus” was in there somewhere. He kneels in front of me, slowly running his hands up my legs. When Bentley replaces his hands with open-mouthed kisses, I swear I can feel my pulse in my clit.
While Bentley works his way up my legs, Kingston kisses my neck and rolls my nipples. God, I'm on sensation overload. Bentley's skin is marginally darker than mine, and Kingston's slightly lighter. Seeing both sets of hands on me, the contrast between all three of us, I don't think I've ever beheld something so stunning.
Every brush of their fingers, or their lips, causes a rush of heat to soar through my body. I'm needy, and restless, and desperate for more. Bent kisses his way to my upper thighs, exploring, teasing, not quite venturing where I need him most. I moan as Bentley's index finger glides over my panties, right down the middle. Kingston's lips leave my neck, and we both watch as Bentley curls his fingers around the strings on my hips.
Bentley searches my eyes for permission.
“It’s okay,” I assure him.
Kingston's hands are still covering my boobs, so I can feel his fingers flex as Bentley slides my underwear down my legs, now leaving me completely bare. Bentley's eyes lift to Kingston, and they se
em to have some sort of silent exchange. Bentley's hands wrap around my ankles, lifting my legs slightly and placing them over Kingston's knees, spreading me wide. I'm completely exposed—I'm sure Bentley can see exactly how excited I am right now.
“Fuck, Jazz,” Bentley whispers as he gazes between my thighs. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kingston’s hand moves down the flat expanse of my stomach. His fingers slide through my wetness, before making small, slow, tortuous circles around my clit. Bentley’s fingers join in the exploration, teasing my opening before inserting one long finger inside of me.
“Shit,” I pant.
Bentley groans. “God, you’re so wet.”
“You like that, baby?” Kingston asks. “You want us to keep going?”
“Yes,” I practically scream. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
Shudders ripple through me as Kingston works my clit while Bentley pumps his finger in and out. When Bent adds a second finger and increases his tempo, my toes curl. I should probably be embarrassed by the wet sucking sounds coming out of my body, but I can't find the will to care. This is filthy, and some might even say depraved, but it feels so fucking good. At this moment, I'm serving my body, succumbing to its desires, and there's not an ounce of shame to go around.
Kingston brings his fingers to my lips. “Suck. Taste how much you want this.”
"Jesus, that's so fucking hot," Bentley mutters as I take Kingston's fingers into my mouth, sucking and licking them clean. His eyes drop to my pussy, and the intensity of his gaze makes me squirm with need. "I need to know how you taste, Jazz. Can I please fucking taste you?"
I moan. “God, yes.”
Bentley pulls me closer, hooking my legs over his shoulders, my ass partially suspended in the air between Kingston's thighs. At the first swipe of Bentley's tongue, I scream, releasing a string of curses. I raise my arms, clasping my hands behind Kingston's neck. I'm afraid I'll float away if I don't have something to anchor myself to. Kingston leans down whispering words of encouragement in my ear and playing with my nipples as his best friend eats my pussy like it's his fucking job.