by Stasia Black
Kennedy enters me in one smooth thrust and my mind goes blank of everything else except him.
“Oh God,” I whisper, “So good. Fuck me hard and fast.”
He does. Oh God, I love it when he gives it to me. Just letting loose and jackhammering so hard. I love that he doesn’t treat me like I’m some delicate little flower. No, he just lays pipe like he means it.
I can’t help the little high-pitched whining noises that come from my throat. He clamps one of his big, strong hands over my mouth.
I love it when he does that. It’s never been so important to keep quiet before. We haven’t done it anywhere quite so public in a while. There was that art show downtown, in the hallway, but ohhhhh, every time feels new with him.
“Quiet,” he hisses in my ear, letting go of my mouth. He leans over my back, one hand gripping the cot beside me and the other grabbing my breast through the thin cotton of my summer dress. “You like it, don’t you, my dirty, dirty girl. But stay quiet, because who knows what would happen if someone hears these little noises you’re making. That you can’t help making because I’m fucking”—he thrusts—“you”—another deep thrust—“so”—again, he bottoms out deep inside me and I swear my eyes roll to the back of my head—“hard.”
Then he goes back to pistoning in and out and the hand that was on my breast drops underneath my dress. Within seconds of him touching me, it hits.
It hits and it hits and God, mother of freaking Mary Jesus God—it— I— Oooohhhhhhhhh—
Kennedy stills inside me, his head leaned over my shoulder from behind, cheek against my cheek and I swear I can feel the ecstasy rolling from him into me and then reverberating back again.
We stand there for several long moments. The pleasure of coming has passed, but the absolute joy of him holding me like this, his heart beating with mine, feeling so close to another human being, and not just anyone, but him. Kennedy. My Kennedy. He makes me feel…everything.
I turn my face to his so I can look into those golden-flecked hazel eyes of his.
“I love you,” I whisper it like it’s a discovery. It feels like it is every time I say it. God, now it feels like there was never a time I didn’t love him.
He blinks in shock, then shakes his head like it’s not true. And I can see it on his face. It doesn’t compute for him. Those words. Addressed to him. Even after five months together. I want to kick myself for taking this long to say it again after that first time, what feels like forever ago.
I pull forward so that we disconnect and my dress falls back to my knees. I take his face in both my hands. “Kennedy Benson, I will love you for the rest of my life. Forever. Past forever.” I laugh even as he keeps blinking. “You are the love of my life.”
He shakes his head again and I forcibly try to stop it and move it up and down instead. “Yes. Yes, you idiot. I love you. And you love me. It’s your turn to say it.”
“Of course I love you.” It comes out in an explosion of breath. “Are you kidding? Of course I love you.”
“Well of course I love you, too,” I say, my voice shaky with joy. I grab his arms and drag them around my waist. Then I do up his pants so we look slightly more dignified during our declarations of love.
“Come on,” I laugh, “we better get back to the group.” I try to remove his arms, but he’s still just shaking his head and looking at me like I’m some kind of alien species.
“Kennedy, come on.” I can’t stop grinning at him. Okay, I’ve heard the term love-struck, but now I’m seeing it in real life.
“You love me?” he whispers like he still can’t quite dare to believe it.
“Yes,” I say emphatically and this time I’m the one shaking my head, but only at how ridiculous he’s being.
But internally, I know why. God, I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to him how loveable he is. I’ll give him babies who will love him and we’ll show him every day a hundred different ways. Together he and I have already been working on his food issues. He still has the closet, but he lets me in there with him more and more. He’s started seeing a counselor, something he told me he never even considered before me.
“I love you,” I say again just to hear the words out loud and because I know he might need to hear it a thousand more times before it really sinks in.
I grab his hand to pull him along. “Now come on before someone catches us.”
I try to drag him toward the door but he takes the hand I’m holding and stops me in place. Then he drops to one knee.
Right there in the middle of Cell Block C in Alcatraz prison.
“Marry me.” He swallows hard and looks terrified the second the words escape his mouth.
“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” a voice calls from the doorway.
I look over my shoulder and see a middle-aged guard with a flashlight beamed at us. Holy crap. The flashlight is completely unnecessary because the cell is well lit, but still. We actually got caught.
“S-sorry,” I stutter, “we’ll just—”
“Come on, man,” Kennedy says, still on his knee. “I’m sweating it out down here. Can you give us a minute?”
The guard looks past me to Kennedy. Then he moves his head back to me and gestures with the flashlight. “Well? What’s your answer?”
I grin and turn back to Kennedy. “Yes!”
Kennedy mocks wiping sweat off his forehead and then jumps up. He lifts me off my feet and swings me in a circle. The cell’s so small, though, my feet hit the bottom of the cot.
“Watch it, watch it,” the guard says, sounding grumpy again. “Get on now. Outta here.”
Kennedy lets me down and his grin is so wide, I swear his face is gonna crack. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pen and the guide packet for the tour, then scribbles something on the paper. He walks over and hands it to the guard.
“Text this number with your address and you’ll get an invite to the wedding. It’s going to be huge. Champagne fountain. Obnoxious amounts of food.” Kennedy gestures with both hands, then looks over at me. “No expense too much for my beautiful bride-to-be.”
I laugh and join him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the main hallway. “I don’t know about all that, but we’d love to have you.”
The guard’s smiling at us, although he looks reluctant, like smiling’s not something he does often. He must really get into his role to give authenticity to the place.
“Have a wonderful day!” I call and wave as Kennedy pulls me along. As soon as we round the corner, he pulls me into his arms and crushes me to him, kissing me hungrily.
“Did you mean it? Or was it just a show for the guard?” Worry lines his forehead.
I smooth his brows with my thumbs. “Of course, I meant it, silly man. I want nothing more than to be your wife. Because I love you, stupid.”
He grins again and it’s freaking breathtaking.
A horn sounds in the distance. It’s the sound the ferry makes when it comes into port.
“I think we missed the rest of the tour,” Kennedy chuckles, sounding more light-hearted than I’ve ever heard him before.
We hurry back to the pier just in time to catch up with the rest of our group. No one seems to have noticed we were missing.
We get on the ferry and it sets off. As I stand by the railing, Kennedy’s arms wrapped securely around me from behind, the Bay wind whipping through my hair, I watch the mainland getting closer and closer. Moving forward. That’s what our lives are all about now. The future and what’s ahead of us. No more looking back.
Enzo’s settling in. He tried going back to public school but felt too out of step with the other kids his age. Instead we decided to do online school and he’s taking some college level classes at one of the community colleges nearby. He’ll probably graduate early at the rate he’s burning through his coursework. After everything that happened, he seems to want to put the past behind him, too. Either that or he feels like he has to make up some debt to me. I know
he still feels guilty. I’ll have to keep working on him.
As far as Yang, that’s still on-going. They bought The Sutler and Kennedy’s overseeing the transition team to update the building. It’s almost ready for the grand reopening. So far he’s convinced Yang to keep it clean, but it’s barely been breaking even while they do the construction work, closing down sections of the hotel at a time.
Stella about flips her lid on a daily basis trying to keep all the plates in the air that are required to keep the accounts for three businesses afloat. Kennedy finally made it official—she finished up her business degree and she’s now his CFO. So far she hasn’t found out about the dark secrets underpinning The Sutler, either about Yang’s plans for it or the fact that Kennedy’s bringing in the Feds. The fewer who know about either, the safer. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep it from her. She’s one smart bitch and I saw her eyeing Kennedy sideways when he was trying to distract her when she dropped by to talk about some accounting discrepancies last weekend. Stella’s not great with the boundaries between work life and personal life. In her defense, Kennedy never had any boundaries before me either.
Not even I know all the details of what’s happening with the Feds—again, he says the less I know the safer I am, but from what I can glean, Yang’s already starting to run some of his operations through the hotel. And it’ll all be secretly monitored as part of whatever sting the Feds have got going on to catch him.
One day when I was hanging out with Callie, I also heard talk of an inside man when Vale and Kennedy didn’t think I was around. I didn’t ask anymore beyond that because I don’t want Kennedy worrying about me knowing things I shouldn’t.
At least from what I understand, Kennedy won’t have any part in what’s happening. The Feds have this ‘inside man,’ whoever that is and whenever it all hits the fan, there’s not supposed to be any blowback on Kennedy or Vale. They shouldn’t even have to testify. If all goes according to plan.
Because that always happens.
My gut tightens and I squeeze Kennedy’s hands out of reflex.
Kennedy must feel it because he nudges me. I look back and see the questioning look in his eyes.
God, I love him so much.
No, I’m not going to focus on any of the bad stuff. We’re going to live a long and beautiful and perfect life together. He and I haven’t fought this hard for our happiness to lose it for anything.
“You okay?” he leans down and calls out over the wind.
I nod and relax into him. I’m not being anything but genuine when I say, “Perfect.” And then, just because I can, I add, “Love you.”
He swallows at the words. I wonder if they’ll always affect him so much. And you know what? I hate the reason why, but I hope they always do. We should never take love for granted. It’s a gift, such a rare and precious, precious gift.
I lift up on my tip-toes and kiss the man I love. His arms wrap around me and we kiss and kiss as the wind whips through my hair and we sail toward home.
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Chapter 1
ISOBEL
VANESSA TO JASON: Did you break up with her yet?
VANESSA TO JASON: I know her dad just died but thats not yr fault. We deserve to be :)
Jason’s cum was still inside Isobel when she read the messages on his phone. He was showering after they’d had sex.
They’d been dating for three years. Long distance for the past year since Isobel had come back to the city to be close to her dad after he got the diagnosis. Pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave him six months to live. He made it eleven, only passing away early last week.
Jason had come for the funeral. They hadn’t been intimate for almost two months before that, but Isobel had wanted the comfort of being in his arms tonight. After everything with her father, and God, her stepmom, it had all been just too much.
So Isobel went to the guest bedroom and slipped into Jason’s bed without turning on the lights. It seemed like the one thing that might make her feel like a whole, sane person again.
Jason had been hesitant to touch her at first. Which only stoked all her worst fears. She’d gotten fat. She knew she had. He wasn’t attracted to her anymore.
So she’d redoubled her efforts. Touching him the way she remembered he liked best. Going down on him until he was hard and thrusting in her throat. Then crawling up the bed and going on her hands and knees so he could push into her from behind. He liked to grab her hips and pump her hard. She also suspected he liked to watch his big cock disappear between her ass cheeks.
But she wouldn’t let him turn on the light when he tried. She could only handle so much. He had no idea what bravery it took for her to let him touch her naked body at all. With no clothes to obscure her problem areas, he could feel all her flaws if he brushed down her thigh, or even worse, if he moved his hands up from her hips to her waist.
In the end, though, it barely mattered. It was over so quickly. And the part she’d been looking forward to the most—the cuddling afterwards—was nonexistent. Almost the second he grunted and spilled in her, he started muttering about needing to get cleaned up. Then he was climbing off the bed and heading for the shower.
His cum was still dripping down the inside of her leg when the ensuite bathroom door closed and his phone on the nightstand buzzed with an incoming text.
Which was when she read Vanessa’s words.
Vanessa, her best friend back at Cornell.
Vanessa.
With Jason.
Vanessa and Jason.
Isobel blinked in the dark. Her mind tried to reject the idea even as the evidence glowed on the screen right in front of her.
The screen went dark but then buzzed in her hand again, lighting up with another text alert.
VANESSA TO JASON: to get you thru the lonely nite til you come home
The phone buzzed again with a shirtless selfie of Vanessa squeezing one of her bared breasts and making a sexy face at the camera.
Isobel didn’t look at Vanessa’s breast, though. She just saw Vanessa’s tiny, flat waist below it.
Of course Jason was banging her skinnier, prettier best friend. Isobel threw his phone against the wall, only feeling marginally better when she heard the screen crack.
And then she yanked the bedsheet around her and stormed into the bathroom. Because enough. She’d had enough. Hadn’t life thrown enough shit-bombs her way lately?
“You cheating bastard!” She jerked the shower curtain back, revealing a startled Jason, foamy shampoo thick in his hair.
“Baby,” he looked at her, his hands going up in a defensive posture. “What are you—”
Baby? Fury like she’d never felt before lit her up inside.
“Get out!” She leaned down and slammed the shower knob, shutting off the water. God, she couldn’t even stand looking at him. He’d just had sex with her and all she could think about was how he must have been comparing her to Vanessa the whole time. It made her want to scream. So she did. “Get out. Now!”
“Stop. Isobel, I don’t even know what you’re talking ab—”
“What, you tripped and your dick just accidently fell into Vanessa? I saw your fucking texts, asshole.”
Jason pulled back, finally dropping silent.
“Get the fuck out of my fucking house!” she screamed right in his face.
“Okay, okay,” he said. He reached for the shower knob. “Just le
t me finish washing my hair and I’ll be—”
“Did you not hear me? I said get the fuck out now!” She grabbed his bicep and jerked him toward the tub’s edge.
He slipped and fell, landing hard on his ass.
“Christ! What the fuck, Iz?” he cried as he scrambled to his feet, slipping one more time before he finally managed to get out of the tub, his hands moving to cover his crotch. Was he afraid she’d want to get a kick in? Not a bad idea.
But he was already backing out of the bathroom and hurrying toward his suitcase. He dressed faster than she would have thought possible. When he sat on the bed to put on his tennis shoes, she just shouted, “Out!” again. He obviously got the picture because he grabbed the shoes, his suitcase, and his phone from the floor and then he ran out of the room.
In another few seconds, she heard the front door slam. Good fucking riddance. She hoped more than just his screen was broken so he couldn’t call an Uber.
She walked back to her bedroom, almost in a daze.
But after several more seconds, everything that had just happened sank in.
Jason had cheated on her.
Jason didn’t love her anymore.
Dad was gone.
She was all alone.
Right as the gut-wrenching realization hit, she happened to look over and catch sight of herself in her full-length mirror.
She dropped the sheet she’d been carrying around, just to torture herself.
Fat.
Ugly.
Failure.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Body dysmorphic disorder. When she looked in mirrors, she never saw what was really there. Even if she weighed only ninety-five pounds, she still saw a fat pig. She had weighed ninety-five pounds—very briefly—right before she’d gone into the treatment facility at sixteen, surrounded by a ton of other skeletal girls all convinced they were fat too.