Deceitfully Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  Tiptoeing down the stairs, I hear murmurs coming from the bottom floor. Peeking around the wall, three figures are filing out of the door in jackets and sneakers. Garrett and Axel are holding Wyatt by each arm, practically shoving him out and closing the front door behind them. The distinctive roar of the Bentley’s engine sounds, tyres crunching over the rocky path as I strain my ears. Looking around me, the rest of the house is utterly silent. Backtracking, I pause outside a slightly open door on the right-hand side and knock softly.

  “Come in,” Dax calls, so I step inside. His room is identical to all the others on this floor, exposed wood leaking from the walls and into the furniture. An incredible view of the sea lies beyond his bay window, despite the heavy clouds beginning to roll over the horizon.

  “I was wondering where-” my words dry up along with all my saliva as my eyes land on Dax. Lounging on his back on the mattress in only a pair of shorts, he quickly folds the corner of the page he was reading and places the book down onto his chest. A river of rippling muscles peek from beneath the paperback, leading down to a sexy V that appears sharp enough to cut glass. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, my eyes are drawn to his thick biceps and the network of protruding veins trailing along his arms. Rolling my tongue between my teeth, Dax clears his throat to grab my attention.

  “Where… the others had gone?” He asks, his smirk and quirked eyebrow showing he knows my mind is in the gutter. Managing a nod, a shudder rolls down my back I’m unable to hide. Removing the book and setting it on the floor, he shifts onto his side and uses a finger to beckon me over. Like a puppet on a string, I push the door closed with my foot and walk over, unable to resist. Lying alongside him, suddenly remembering I’m only in a vest and pyjama pants, I force myself to keep my eyes on his.

  “They left for the nearest town, wanting to restock our food and give Wyatt some space to… re-evaluate.” His fingers stroke a line from my wrist to shoulder, leaving a blazing trail of fire in their wake. Smoothing his hand around the back of my neck, he leans in closer. “They’ll be gone for the rest of the day,” he whispers. My lips part with an excuse that dies on my tongue, desire pooling in my core as his blue eyes darken. My head pulls forward on its own accord, keen for another taste of him, this time uninterrupted.

  Moving close enough for our breaths to mingle, I run the edge of my tongue along his bottom lip and push it into his mouth. The second our tongues meet, his hands fly into my hair as he drags me into his firm body. Gripping his pecs, our mouths crash against each other in time to our bodies grinding urgently. Pushing my hand against his shoulder, I attempt to force him onto his back but he doesn’t budge an inch. Hooking my leg over his waist instead, Dax presses his groin against the molten heat between my thighs. Breaking our kiss to glide his lips along my jaw, his body weight starts to push down onto me slowly. A flurry of panic washes through me, dread dousing my mood and sends me bolting from the bed.

  Dax’s eyes widen with concern, rising to sit on the edge of the mattress and hold his hands out for mine. There’s no judgement or annoyance in his expression, just patience I wasn’t prepared for. Gradually, I step forward and place my palms in his. “I’m sorry, I don’t do missionary. It’s too… close for my liking.” My eyes slide to the floor, letting him think I mean in physical terms. His large hands travel to my hips, pulling me gently into his lap and burying his face into the crook of my neck.

  “Firstly, don’t ever apologise for not feeling comfortable again. To anyone.” He places a kiss on my collar bone. “And secondly, this doesn’t have to happen.” Spinning my face to his, the sincerity in his gaze is a direct contrast to the bulging erection straining against my thigh.

  “I want this to happen, trust me I can’t handle holding back from you any longer.” His lips curve into a smile, his blue eyes twinkling against his mocha skin.

  “Then I’m all yours, take all the control you need. But if the day ever comes you would like to rewrite history, I’ll be more than willing to do that for you.” My eyebrows dip briefly as I stare at the opposite wall, Dax still kissing my shoulders sensually. The notion I could scratch over and replace bad memories with new ones has never occurred to me. But then again, I’ve never met anyone like Dax. He’s compassionate and protective, but never overbearing. Subtly thoughtful, which he rarely takes credit for, understanding without needing explanations. And above all else, he makes me feel something I haven’t felt for as long as I can remember – safe.

  Leaving his loose hold, I round the bed and steadily lower myself until I’m flat on my back. Leaning over me with his arms fully extended so he isn’t too close, his eyes search mine. “Avery, you don’t have to-” I shoot my hand up to push my fingertips against his lips. All of a sudden, I need to do this, and for reasons my heart is keeping under lock and key, it has to be with him. Gripping the back of his head, his blonde curls tickling my fingers, I pull him down onto me. Our lips move much slower this time, the incredible softness of his kiss captivating me.

  His forearm beside my head keeps him from fully lying on top of my body, his free hand cupping my cheek and thumb making small circles along my jaw. Ending our kiss, his head drops to my ear so he can whisper to me softly. “You can leave at any time.” If I’d had any doubts up to this point, they just evaporated and I now know for a fact, I’m not going anywhere. Slipping my arms between us, I lift the hem of my vest and slide it over my head. Chucking it onto the floor, Dax rears up to help me remove my pyjama pants before standing to dispose of his shorts. My mouth falls open at the sight of his vast girth, a smooth pink head bulging at the top.

  Kneeling between my legs, he nudges me to spread wider. Cool air meets my centre as I lie exposed beneath his heated gaze whilst chewing on his lip in a way that’s driving me crazy. Running the pad of his thumb up my already slick seam, he finds my small bud instantly and applies delicious pressure. A flush bursts to life across my neck, searing heat burning me from inside with anticipation.

  “So beautiful,” he murmurs, bending to take my nipple in his mouth before I can respond. Keeping one hand between my legs, the other massages my breast as he sucks and licks. Repeating the sensual assault on my other nipple, his long index finger slides into me, stroking my inner channel expertly. I arch and squirm, torn between wanting this delightful torture to last for hours and to have all of him right now.

  Withdrawing his finger, he pushes it into his mouth and sucks my juices clean. “Mmmm, next time,” he promises, lining his bulbous head at my entrance. I briefly wonder if he’ll be able to fit as he pushes in on a prolonged thrust. Crying out, my nails scrape his thighs as I adjust to his length. I’ve never felt so full. Feeling like he’s still holding back, I grip his hair in my hand and pull him down onto me. His weight presses me into the mattress and I wait for the anxiety in kick in, but it never comes.

  Sliding all the way out, he plunges back into me causing my back to arch. Gripping his shoulders, he continues his pounding while I spread my legs as far as I can to accommodate him. Dax pushes his face into my neck, his hair tickling my face as he lifts my hips to spear even deeper into my core. Each time, I moan and cry in shock, his cock caressing my G-spot, coaxing the orgasm from me. My toes curl and my teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling the scream as I come apart on the next thrust.

  Light bursts behind my closed eyelids, an earthquake of pleasure tearing my body in two. Waves pulse around his thick rod, holding him firmly inside while I ride those glorious currents. The energy thrumming in my veins dissipates, leaving me to sag back contently. Grinding himself within me, I jolt in shock and open my eyes to find Dax staring down like I’m the most precious jewel he’s ever seen. A darkening mark on his shoulder is surrounded by the imprint of my teeth though he doesn’t seem to mind.

  Working up to another steady rhythm, Dax hooks my leg up onto his bicep. His eyes stay linked with mine, emotion passing between us. With one hand supporting my ass, the other reaches up to caress my cheek as he lowers his head.
Capturing my lips in his, something shifts within my chest that I don’t have time to understand, my next climax already building. Sweat slicks our bodies, our movements building to a crescendo of the sweetest music.

  His stamina is relentless, never wavering from the powerful stride he’s built up. My walls start to clamp down, this time taking him with me. His dick swells as cum explodes into me, causing both of us to shout out. My core throbs in time with him as the intensity eases, our chests heaving together in unison. His smile drops, a hint of panic in his piercing blue eyes.

  “Should have… used a… condom,” he rasps out between heavy breaths. I reach over limply to tap my upper arm, drawing his attention to the implant beneath the surface of my skin. Seeming satisfied, he kisses my forehead and pulls out of me. Disappearing into the bathroom, he returns quickly with a wet cloth to clean me delicately. I know it’s ridiculous, but the intimate act is the first time I’ve felt self-conscious since walking in here.

  Dax rolls onto the bed, his arm sliding around my middle as I try to rise from the bed and pulls me into his body. It goes against my personal rules to stick around after sex, but I can’t deny how right his body warmth feels joined with mine. If there was ever a person I could envision myself being with long time, it would be the strikingly beautiful, dark skinned man beside me. But that’s not possible for me. I’m better off alone, only committed to myself. That way, no one will be given the power to hurt me. In theory anyway.

  Wyatt

  Breaking through the tree line of the forest that’s been passing by the Bentley’s windows for well over two hours, the road suddenly changes to tarmac beneath the wheels. Sitting upright in the back seat, I peer around Axel in the driver’s seat to see a small town in view. Every building looks the same, exposed red brick and black tiled roofs. A large clock tower stands directly in front at the end of the single street that makes up the ‘town’, showing its already late afternoon.

  Rolling down my window, I hang out on my forearm slightly. The scent of gasoline and smoke fill my nose as we drive past a group of bearded men in leather jackets, hanging outside a bar. Lines of motorcycles are parked along the pavement, bulky saddle bags on the backs suggesting they are just passing through like we are. Within 5 minutes, Axel has driven us from one side of the town to the other, parking the vehicle in the shade of a huge sycamore tree.

  Neither Garrett nor Axel have spoken a single word to me, since dragging me from my bed with unnecessary force. I was more than willing to come along for this ride, having my own agenda. It was a unanimous decision to take me away from the house once they’d all heard Meg’s over-exaggerated cries. I don’t see what the big deal is, I was helping her face her fears – she should be thanking me. Never mind the fact Garrett would have found that shit hilarious and even joined in a few months ago, but people change. I sure have.

  “You can stay in the car.” Gare grumbles, slipping out and slamming the door. Axel looks back at me in the rear-view window, concern in his amber eyes.

  “Just… make sure no one steals the Bentley. I don’t fancy walking back. We won’t be long.” Running after Garrett like the lost puppy he is when alone, Axel disappears from view and I finally relax. Not wanting to waste any time, I pull my phone from my pocket to see the full signal bar in the top right corner. Opening my contacts, my thumb hovers over Ray’s name but at the last second, I press Rachel’s. The dial tone is music to my ears, my heart lifting with optimism.

  “Wyatt?” Her sweet voice sails through the speaker with a hint of shock.

  “Rachel!” I half shout, grinning ear to ear like a schoolboy. For the next ten minutes, she fawns over me, asking if I’m okay and telling me about her days lately. I notice how she completely avoids any questions around Avery or my task, her sole concern focused on my wellbeing.

  “The house isn’t the same without you. I’ve been practising a new jambalaya recipe I want you to try when you get back, it’s a dish I’ve always struggled to perfect.” My heart starts to ache, longing to return to her. Thinking of which, I need to speak with Ray before Tweedle-Dum and Tweedled-Dee return with the groceries.

  “Sounds perfect, I can’t wait. I have to call Ray, but I promise I’ll be home soon.” I say the words without realising, but once they are out there – they feel so right. Rachel makes me feel at home with her, accepted just the way I am. Bidding me goodbye, she hangs up the phone so I can move onto the real call I need to make.

  “Ahh, Wyatt my boy. I was wondering when I might hear from you,” Ray’s crackled voice sounds equally as happy to speak with me. “I hope you’re calling with good news for me.”

  “I am, actually. I know who the other twin is, and even better, both of them are staying in the safe house with me.” Ray gasps in delight, shifting around on the other end to give me his full attention.

  “Do tell, who is she?” I can practically see him sitting forward in his office chair, clinging onto the information I’m about to impart.

  “Meg Connors. Her mom is Avery’s therapist and the girls have been best friends for years.”

  “Well blow me down, I know of this Meg. We have case files on all the staff and known associates of the Hughes’ household. But I never thought the one we’ve been searching for would be so close by. Nixon is a crafty one, I’ll give him that.” I grimace at the mention of my father’s name, a bitter taste filling my mouth.

  “He’s not here unfortunately so I can’t get them all to you-”

  “No need, dear boy. Change of plans. We can’t pass up the opportunity to have them both before Nixon thinks to separate them. Send me your location, I’ll have men come to collect all three of you.” My eyes widen, knowing with how protective the guys have become which means this won’t be a simple task.

  “I’ll email you directions, but can I make one request? The guys I used to roll with are here, at the safe house. Promise me none of them will get hurt, again.” There’s a pause of silence, causing me to doubt if I’m in a position to make requests.

  “I’m only interested in the girls. My men will be instructed to stay under the radar so there shouldn’t be any more unnecessary casualties.” The line goes dead so I start to type out the quick email, trying not to think on how that wasn’t exactly a guarantee. I just have to hope we can sneak the girls out before anyone notices we’ve gone. Pressing send, I slump back and look out of the window.

  Only from this angle can I now see a small church hidden behind the street, more like a converted house than an image of worship. White planks lay horizontally around the structure, with a grey roof and gothic style windows. The rounded window at the top has been replaced with stained glass, a cross sitting amongst patterns of red and green. Wooden crosses have also been fixed above the front and side porches. A small noticeboard sits on the manicured lawn, black letters standing out against a white background. ‘God Expects Spiritual Fruit, Not Religious Nuts. ‘

  Noticing my body feels stiff, I exit the car to straighten my legs for a minute. Raising my arms above my head in a stretch, the faint sound of a ball bouncing drifts to me on a gentle wind. Shifting my head side to side like a meerkat, I locate a shabby court around the back of a barber shop on the corner. Closing the car door, my feet start to take me towards the several players running up and down the stony patch surrounded by a metal fence. The hoop is just that; a hoop with no backboard and covered in rust.

  Noticing me approaching, the group pause their game to judge my Air Jordan sneakers and Nike sports outfit with contempt. A short dude with a mess of black curls on top of his head and pale skin is holding the ball in the centre of tall, muscled guys that are a similar size to me. “You better turn around and walk away rich boy, your private coaching aint got nothing on us.” I cringe at his double negative, biting my tongue from proving his point about my upbringing. But I’m not going to argue about his grammar, I want to play some ball.

  “How about a wager then? Me against all of you. If you win, you can have my sneaker
s.” His eyes trail down to my feet, smirking with over confidence.

  “And what do you get?” he shouts back through the fence. My first instinct is to say ‘fun’, but I shake off the notion. I don’t want to have fun; I want to crush their cocky attitudes in my fist and force them back into the cardboard box homes they crawled out of.

  “Experience,” I settle on, which seems to please them all. Entering the court, the one I’ve named Diddy, due to his small size, chest passes me the ball to start. Tossing its weight from hand to hand, I reacquaint myself with it like an old friend I didn’t realise I’ve been missing. Bouncing it under my legs and back again, I crouch and brace myself to wipe the floor with seven untrained, street players. Quick as a flash, I dart to the side, pre-empting each of their lazy moves and dodging each rogue hand flailing for the ball. Seeing an opening between two oafs looking in opposite directions, I launch myself upwards and throw the ball easily into the net with a flick of my hand. Diddy catches the ball as it bounces his way, glaring at me.

  “First one to five,” he growls, dribbling the ball around the arc line rather than start in the centre like I did. His eyes flash to oaf number three behind me as he fakes a shot and throws the ball sideways. With my training, it’s comical he thought I’d even fall for that lame trick shot as the ball lands right in my hands. With minimum effort, I toss the ball into the air and hear the satisfying ‘oomph’ of it sailing through the net. The men around me grumble, one of them stealing the ball and making a show of bouncing it around the court. Approaching me, he jumps to shoot so I reach up to block his way. Another player dives at me, throwing me forcefully to the ground. Glancing up, I see the ball be netted and hear the team cheer for themselves.