Twins

by Tiya Rayne

  “I found her,” I say as if I’d been holding it in for so long and can finally get it out.

  Priest stills, his brows pinch together. “Found who?”

  “Do you remember our first menu?”

  It only takes a moment for him to recall the memory. “The pedophile,” he says and then his eyes narrow and realization dawns. “The little girl from the playground. The one Seth was fixated with.”

  “Yeah, but what you don’t know is, I saw her first. Before she died, Angel found her for me. She sent me a message leading me to her. She wanted me to be with her.”

  Priest shakes his head. “Are you out of your mind? That’s what this has been about? Some girl you won’t even be able to keep.”

  “Who says I can’t keep her? Hawk found a way around it.”

  “Hawk is a fucking fugitive, living on the run,” he roars. “He’s not down in Florida sipping mimosas and fishing every day. We didn’t give him a happily ever after, we gave him a happy for as long as it lasts. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” I reply, tossing up my hands. “If it gets me just one second of peace to be with her, then I’d take it.”

  He’s quiet again, watching me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. If you care anything for that girl, you will walk away now and leave her alone.” He turns to leave.

  “So, you want me to abandon Malia like you did Albany?”

  Priest freezes, his shoulders stiffen and his hands are in fists at his sides.

  “We all had different relationships with her, but to me she was my best friend. She told me everything, things she wouldn’t even tell her sister,” I say, revealing the depths of our relationship.

  He turns to glare at me over his shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, I know your secret.”

  Priest turns fully to me now, his eyes are cold, showing me the legend behind the name. “And what secret might that be?”

  “You lied to everyone when you told them you never slept with her. She came to me that night in tears and told me how you used her and tossed her to the side.”

  His fist connects with my face so quick I don’t even see it coming. I only feel the searing pain.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

  “I know she loved you and you left her to die.”

  I’ve gone too far. I know it the moment the words are out of my mouth.

  I witness the pain that fills his eyes and the flare of his nose. He closes his eyes and turns away from me.

  “Do what you want, Lucien, but don’t come to me when it blows up in your face.”

  He walks out the door, and this time I let him leave. It wasn’t my intention to hurt Priest. Especially not the way I did.

  I can’t deal with my thoughts or my actions and only one thing will help me tonight. I grab my phone off the counter, the last text message is still there.

  Me: I need you, please.

  Her reply comes quick.

  Malia: I’m on my way.

  I rush upstairs to prepare for her.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  About an hour later, I’m pacing the floor waiting for her to arrive. It’s selfish for me to call her away from her daughter at eleven o’clock at night, but I can’t help it.

  Her tentative knock has me rushing to the door. I swing it open, pulling her to me like a drowning man gasping for air. I kiss her lips, slamming the door closed behind her. Then I push her against it, never breaking the connection of our mouths.

  I find the tie of her jacket with my hands and rip it loose. Pulling away, I gaze down at her body. She’s wearing a silk cami with matching shorts that barely come to the tops of her thighs.

  I allow my eyes to drink their fill of her. Slowly, I cherish every curve of her body, Malia is perfectly made. I take her hand in mine and lead her to the couch facing the rectangular shaped window.

  “Sit,” I direct, and she obliges. Dropping to my knees between her legs, I then push her thighs wider apart for me.

  She cups my face, and I look up into hers. She’s worried about me. I can read the concern in her eyes, but I don’t want to talk about me now. I’m about to take my medicine, the thing that will heal me.

  Needing to get my hands on her, I slip my hands in the waist of her shorts and slide them down. She lifts to assist me. Once they’re off, I toss them behind me to discard the soft fabric.

  I grab her thighs, sliding her down the couch toward my mouth. Pushing her legs back and apart, I expose her pink center. My mouth waters for her unique flavor.

  Flattening my tongue, I slide it up her crease toward her pearl. Malia squeals and the sound of it has me so hard, I feel uncomfortable under my shorts. I dip my tongue inside her, lapping at the moisture hidden there.

  I suck her folds into my mouth, then quickly flick my tongue back and forth over her pearl. She rocks her hips toward my face, soaking my chin with her desire. I will never get tired of her taste.

  I eat her pussy nonstop. She comes so much it soaks my couch. Even when her thighs close tight around my head and she begs for me to stop, I continue. I eat until she’s nothing but a boneless heap before me.

  When I stop and stand, her essence runs down my chin onto my chest. I yank off my shirt and wipe it away. Then quickly, I remove my shorts and boxers, tossing them aside.

  She’s slumped down on the couch, her beautiful bottom hanging off the seat. First, I take her wrists and then pin them above her head against the back of the couch. I wrap a hand around my cock and run the head through her soaked folds before dipping it into her tight channel.

  She moans as I stand over her body and roll my hips into her. I crave the sounds she makes during sex. I grab her thigh with my free hand and angle her hips to the side so I can go even deeper.

  She screams as I fuck her harder, my hips moving as if they are running a race. There is no better feeling than to be buried inside the woman you love. The realization doesn’t come as a shock to me.

  I’m not hit with some great epiphany. I’ve been in awe of her from the day I saw her stand up to her enemies. I have no idea when it turned into love, but I know at this moment there is no one else for me but Malia.

  I release her hands and pull out of her, sitting her up with my hand wrapped around her throat. I kiss her lips as if they will be taken from me at any moment. Sitting on my bottom, I proceed to pull her down off the couch with me, making her straddle me.

  I help her ease my dick back inside her tight walls. We both groan at the reconnection. She slowly rolls forward, finding a slow rhythm. I don’t rush her. I allow her to take from me whatever she needs.

  When her movements become frantic and her back bows, I know she’s close to the edge. I hold her hips still and fuck her from below. She screams my name as she spasms above me.

  When she falls to my chest, I flip her over onto her back, lifting one leg over my shoulder. I fuck her so deep and hard; I want to become a permanent part of her. When I feel my seed passing through me so violently, I can’t help but to toss my head back and groan.

  I come until I feel weak. When I have nothing left to give, I pull out and fall to her side, pulling her into me. Takar is still out there, Priest is still angry, and the Church will never let me keep her, but lying beside her with my nut leaking from between her legs, none of that matters.

  Chapter 39

  Go Fuck Himself

  Malia

  * * *

  My body hums with the aftershocks of another orgasm.

  “Please, Lucien, no more,” I beg as he licks my cream from between my thighs.

  I thought last night was good, but this morning he has outdone himself. When I messaged Lucien that I was willing to do what he needed to make his day better, I didn’t expect to get his response. However, I had no problem coming to his aid.

  What I wasn’t expecting was the haunted look in his eye
s when I walked through the door. He looked as if he was going through it. I know his work has been hard on him, but the man I saw open the door last night looked defeated.

  He climbs out of bed, leaving me feeling like a wet paper sack. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says wiping his mouth.

  “Hold on.” I try to sit up. “I’ll take one with you.”

  “No,” he says it so quickly and abruptly it startles me.

  “Fine, never mind,” I reply, holding my hands up, feeling a little disappointed.

  Lucien must pick up on my mood because he comes and sits beside me on my side of the bed.

  “I have a quirk about showering alone. It’s one of my weird things,” he says, ducking his head.

  “Like not touching you during sex.” His eyes cut away and then back to me.

  “Yeah, like that. If you want to shower too, you can use my bathroom and I’ll use the one down the hall. I like that one better anyway. Then maybe we can have some breakfast together before you head home?” He grins.

  I would have enjoyed showering with him, but I try to understand. We all have those weird quirks. I kiss him, being mindful of my morning breath.

  “Sounds great. I’ll hop in the shower in a few and meet you down for breakfast.”

  With another quick kiss, he heads out of the room, shutting the door behind him. I fall back in bed, thinking of how quickly I’m falling in love with this man.

  * * *

  ***

  After a simple breakfast of cereal and toast, I kissed Lucien goodbye and headed home with a little pep in my step to change and head to work.

  “Mail’s here,” Tiana sings as she drops off the mail on my desk.

  Emory’s here today, helping me around the store since Grams is once again off with her old work friends. We’re looking through magazines for some holiday decorations.

  “Thank you,” I say, picking up the mail off my desk. I spot the familiar package right away.

  My admirer has sent another letter. I open the envelope and pull out the new card catalogues. This time I get, “Measure for Measure,” by Shakespeare, “The Partner,” by John Grisham, and “Follow the Rabbit Proof Fence,” by Doris Pilkington.

  “What’s that?” Emory’s tablet asks.

  “Just some random card catalogues I’ve been getting. I have a few now.” I pull out the box with the others in it.

  I don’t tell my daughter I’ve been receiving these and don’t know where they’re coming from. She’s a lot like Grams and it will only cause her to stress and worry. I place the new cards with the others and close the top down before replacing them.

  “So, have you decided on the Santa poster, or are we going to go with the snowman.”

  Before Emory can respond, my phone goes off on my desk. I don’t recognize the New York number, but I answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Malia Parks?” the woman on the other line asks.

  “This is her,” I reply skeptically. This better not be a damn car insurance scam call.

  “Hi, I’m Donna here at Presbyterian. This is about Sylvia Brooks.”

  My brain stops and for a second, I don’t hear anything else. There’s movement around me, Emory is tapping me on my arm and I think Tiana comes rushing toward me, but my world is spinning. Someone grabs my shoulder and shakes me. I’m finally able to focus on Tiana’s worried face.

  “What’s wrong?” Tiana asks.

  “It’s Grams, she’s in the hospital.”

  After my reply, I move on autopilot to get to the hospital. I don’t know if I obeyed traffic laws or not. I don’t even remember calling Lucien, but he’s here.

  We’re sitting in the ER, waiting to hear something about my Grams. Emory is sleeping, her head resting on Lucien’s lap. Tiana is on the other side of me, holding a cup of coffee that’s probably ice cold by now.

  Lucien is holding my hand, feeding me all the strength he can. I’m not sure I’ve blinked in the last few hours.

  A tall black man in a white lab coat comes toward us. I don’t notice him until Luc squeezes my hand. I sit up straighter.

  “Which one of you is Malia Parks?” the man asks.

  “I am.” He turns to me and smiles.

  “Sylvia is doing better,” he says and my entire body exhales. “At her age, she has to be more careful.”

  I like to think of my grandmother as invincible. Grams can still run laps around me. She still takes hiking trips with her old work buddies and digs in her flower bed without so much as complaining about an achy joint.

  However, this was the reality check I needed. She isn’t getting any younger. It slaps me in my face, and I can almost hear a clock ticking down.

  Then it registers with me, all those conversations about time and needing someone to take care of me. She was trying to get me to see it then.

  “We have her stable, and in a room,” the doctor goes on to say. “We’re going to keep her overnight to monitor her. It was a pretty big fall.”

  “Can I see her?” I ask.

  “Absolutely.”

  As happy as I feel to finally be able to see Grams, that joy starts to fade as I make my way down the white halls of the hospital to her room. I’ve never seen her as anything but a pillar of strength. What do I do if that isn’t who is in the bed? I know I have to be strong for her.

  Stopping at her room, I inhale before tapping my knuckles on the back of the wooden door. “Grams, its me.”

  “Come in, baby girl,” she calls out in a frail voice.

  I open the door and walk in. She’s sitting up in the bed a bandage on her forehead and an IV running from her wrist. Despite trying to prepare myself, it all goes to shit in a handbasket the moment I see her. I break down and rush to her bed. She opens her arms for me, and I crawl into them like I did when I was a child, waking from a bad dream.

  “Child, what the hell are you crying about? I just fell and bumped my head a little.”

  “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  Even though it’s true I still can’t stop myself. Grams runs her fingers through my hair soothing me.

  “I know why,” she says, and I look up into her eyes. “Because reality hit you like a pregnancy scare to a teenager.”

  I snort and wipe at my tear stained face. “Yeah, you can say that. Do you know what I realized?”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I would be lost without you. I have no idea how to raise Emory without you. I don’t even know how to raise myself. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  That is the scariest part about this experience. Yes, Grams is fine this time, but what happens when she isn’t? She’s been trying to point that out to me for a while, but I’ve been too busy believing she would be fine.

  “I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do without me,” she says, cupping my wet cheeks in her hands and looking down at me. “You’re going to laugh that high-pitched cackle of yours as often as you can.” I snort at her joke. “You’re going to dance in my kitchen while you cook your horrible healthy food.

  “You will go on walks with Emory, read her favorite bedtime books at night, teach her to ride horses and hula hoop.” We both snort at that. “And most importantly,” she says, with a pointed look. “You’re going to give love a chance every time it comes around. You, baby girl, are going to live and you’re going to be fine.”

  My tears come anew and they run like rivers down my cheeks. Grams let’s go of my face. I lay my head in her lap while she rubs my hair.

  “The doctor says you need to be more careful. He also says you need to slow down,” I say after a moment.

  Her hand stills in my hair. “You tell him to go fuck himself.”

  I erupt into laughter, before calming back down. “What were you doing anyway?”

  “Reliving the old days, I guess.”

  “Yeah well, I don’t like your old work buddies anymore. They’re a bad influence.”

  This
time its Grams’ turn to laugh.

  We stay like this for an hour, spending time and laughing. And even though she’s okay, that feeling stays with me. The reminder we have more time behind us than ahead of us.

  Chapter 40

  Star of the Show

  Malia

  * * *

  After Grams hospital stay and that reality check, I’ve been a lot more cautious with her. In the five weeks since that day in the hospital, I’ve tried to make her stay home more and take it easy. She threatened to beat my ass for it. However, I can’t shake the feeling of almost losing her.

  Thank goodness for Lucien. He has been my sounding board for my concerns. He always reminds me to keep living, even if it’s by pleasuring my body until I cry out in a boneless heap.

  He has reminded me I shouldn’t worry about the unknown and focus on having my Grams here and now. He’s always there for whatever I need. Which is why his absence now is worrying me.

  As I glance down at my watch one more time, I sigh. He’s late. In the five months we’ve been dating, Lucien has never been late, and he would never miss anything concerning Emory.

  I pull out my phone and call his number for the fifth time. The voicemail comes on.

  “Babe, I’m getting nervous now. Please call me back soon.” I slide my phone in my purse.

  “Candy Girl, shouldn’t you be inside already?”

  I look up to find Seth strolling toward me. I haven’t seen or heard from Seth in two weeks. Not since the day I woke up in Lucien’s bed alone with Seth sitting at the foot watching me.

  I hurry toward him. “Where is Lucien?”

  “Well, hello to you too.”

  “Seth,” I warn. He chuckles.

  “Relax, little brother got called away at the last minute. He’s feeling like shit about missing Tiny Rambo’s recital so he sent me.”

  I’m starting to hate this job. Not only does it keep Lucien busy for days at a time, but lately, he’s started to look worn. Even more so than the night he called me over.