“Avoid the small multicolored glasses.” I inform her. “It’s Joel’s homemade concoction and it will have you on your back before we make it out the front door.”
Joel chuckles as he scoops up his beer and leaves the kitchen, abandoning us with each other.
God. She looks good. What does she smell like? Fuck. What does she taste like?
With a defiant smirk and a purposeful kink in her eyebrow, Emily reaches out and wraps her slender fingers around a small, multicolored glass.
“I suppose I won’t need this to put me on my back...not when I have you to do it for me later.”
She surveys the liquid before returning it to the bench, opting for a shot of vodka instead.
If she’s not careful I’ll have her on her back, stomach, knees—fucking hands. I’ll have her any way, every way. I will tear her dress from her tight little body and tie her to the bed with it. I’ll gag her with her own panties and fuck her ass while she wears those skin color shoes. I’ll hit it so good she’ll never need the dick again. I’ll satisfy her for life—and that’s a goddamn promise. Unaware of my violent and sexual thoughts, Emily smiles at me before she tips her shot down the hatch.
Swallowing, she clenches her teeth with a hiss. “That’s awful.”
“Better than the stuff we were drinking underground.”
Her smile grows wider as she tips her head to the side, her hair cascading down the length of her bicep. I want to pull it. I want to wrap it around my knuckles while I fuck her from behind.
“I don’t know. I kind of like the taste of whiskey mixed with the nasties of the sewer.”
I laugh once. God, she’s amazing.
I want her closer.
I want her against me.
Shifting, I angle my body away from the bench and slap my thigh. “Come here.”
I want her close enough to smell. I want to see the perfect lines of her lip liner and the shimmer in the swirl of blush on her cheeks. I want to admire it while I can because later I’m going to smear it over her face with the tip of my cock.
Emily leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench and locking her arms at the elbow. “All the way over there? In these shoes?”
“They’re not comfortable?”
She shrugs. “They’re not too bad. I mean, they’re no Louis Vuitton, but they do all right.”
Note to self; get the girl some damn Louis Vuitton shoes.
I arch a brow. “And you packed them because...?”
The soles of her heels clack against the floorboards as she rounds the bench. Most people favor the sound of rain as it patters against a tin roof.
Not me.
I love the sound of high heels. Nothing sounds better than a woman dressed to the nine’s, her feet encased in tight, slender materials, as she marches her way to wherever she’s going. Heels symbolize Power. Sassiness. Sexiness.
Heels are my fucking undoing.
Especially on her.
It makes sense, I mean, Superman has kryptonite and I have...I have women’s shoes.
Emily saunters the last few steps before resting in the space between my legs.
“Let’s just say I didn’t pack them for dancing.” She utters, her long, black lashes seemingly never ending.
God, give me the strength to hold off on my threat of gagging her with her own underwear. At least until we get back. What is she wearing under that fabric anyway? Lace? Silk? Or maybe cotton, like the pair she had when we were in the tunnels?
I close my eyes for the briefest moment as she twirls, giving me her back. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close. Her shoulders tighten and the tips of her slender fingers dig in to my thigh as I lean in close and brush my lips against the shell of her ear.
“Watch yourself, Kitten. Don’t think I won’t kick everyone out and bend you over this countertop.”
She turns her head, twisting until her ear is replaced by her soft cheek. “Is that a threat?”
I hold her tightly in my arms, squeezing her just enough to aid me in getting my point across.
“That’s a promise.”
She twirls in my arms again, my heart increasing in tempo when she stops, her nose brushing mine and her chest resting gently against me. Strangely, she sways slightly in my arms, as if her ankles are moving on their own. That’s when I notice the slight heaviness to her eyelids and the drunken curl of her lips.
How is that even possible?
“Emily? Are you drunk already?”
Emily pulls back, focusing her dark eyes on mine. “I am certainly not drunk.”
I frown. I’m definitely not buying that.
“I mean...I may have been drinking for a little while longer than everyone else, but I’m not drunk.”
“How much longer?”
“Not long.” She glances at the clock. “Since six p.m.”
“That was over two hours ago. How is that even possible?”
“Joel came up to check on me while you were out on your run. He brought booze and I drank it.”
“Why?”
She avoids my eyes. “Because I wouldn’t be able to face you otherwise.”
“I’m confused. Did I do something wrong?”
Emily cringes, expressing another visual display of the nausea and stress she feels inside.
“No. It’s not you, it’s me. I needed the booze because...because I...shit. This isn’t how I imagined this would go.”
“This isn’t how you imagined what would go?”
She opens her mouth only to clamp it shut as a hand slaps against my shoulder. You’ve got to be kidding me?
“You two ready to roll?”
Emily pulls herself out of my arms and I turn my head to face Ted. Unsurprisingly, his wide, cheerful grin falls when he sees my expression so I’m guessing I don’t look happy.
“Shit. Did I interrupt something?”
Ignoring him, I blow out an exhale and reach for another shot—a double—the one in the big blue glass—and I tip it down my throat.
On the other side of the kitchen, Emily focuses on her own breathing exercises as she pours herself a cup of chilled water. She drinks it quicker than I drank my shot of booze. What was she going to say? A million possibilities run through my mind and the only one that keeps coming back, like an annoying fly, is the one involving Huss. Why do I keep sandwiching them together in my head? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because Huss is slimy and I don’t trust him. Or maybe it’s because Emily has a long list of insecurities. She’s always putting me on a pedestal, always boosting me up while putting herself down. She sees herself as a woman who is unworthy of me and she sees me as a man who is using her—a man who is exploiting her body because she’s the only choice I have. It’s not true, I know that, but that’s how she works. That’s how her brain works.
To me, it’s simple.
I love her—and not because she’s the only female caught up in this gigantic fuck of a mess with me. I’d tell her how I feel, but it’d only arm her with another insecurity to use against herself. If I’m being honest with myself, her insecurities terrify me. I’m terrified that if I tell her I love her she’ll panic. She’ll panic and fuck the whole thing up by sliding into bed with someone she’s familiar with—a personality that has fucked her over a million times. That’s comfortable for her because it’s what she’s used to. It’s why I don’t like Huss sniffing around—even if he claims he’s only kidding.
It’s like they say; behind every joke is a hint of truth. If that’s true, I guess that makes Huss one honest motherfucker.
Fallen
Emily
My heart pounds. My nerves are shot. They vibrate through my entire body from the epicenter of his index finger as it swirls in tiny circles halfway up my inner thigh.
Heat flares, scorching me.
My blood thins, making my brain roll in my skull.
I’m incredibly turned on—unbelievably aroused.
I suck in an inhale, but it does nothing t
o ease the burn in my lungs. He’s close to me—so close I can taste his cologne in the back of my throat.
I came to terms with being in love with Jai today and since that moment, everything about him had multiplied tenfold—his touch, his smell, his voice—They’re all now a part of a unique passcode to my body. Unless you’re him access is denied.
I swipe at the thin line of sweat bubbling along my top lip and hit the window button. Cold air blasts my face, instantly freezing the tip of my nose, but it feels good.
It feels great.
I pull my black jacket around my shoulders. I’m happy I decided to put a warm jacket and thick leggings on underneath my dress before we left. It’s so nice inside the lake house, I forget it’s as cold as a snowman’s asshole outside.
Sucking in one last inhale, I pull up the window before the cold air manages to turn my nose to ice. As the glass slips tightly into its socket, a howl of laughter tears through the car, signaling the end of Ted’s story. I’m glad I missed it. I don’t think I can stomach hearing another descriptive monologue of his penis as it enters a vagina. He’s proud of his sex stories—it’s as if he fucks just so he has something to talk about. I’d hate to be one of the girls in his stories.
Ted reaches around the driver’s seat, extending his beer to Huss who, by someone’s stupid decision, is the designated driver. I don’t know whose idea it was to make the guy who has been abusing his pain pills drive the car—not to mention he has a broken arm, bruised ribs, and a whole lot of stitches. If the stress of not telling Jai I love him doesn’t kill me, then I’m certain Huss’s driving will. That being said, I’m glad I have the window seat. Jai kindly switched out so I didn’t have to be sandwiched between him and Ted—which, if I’m being honest, wouldn’t be such a bad thing under different circumstances.
Huss shrugs Ted’s bottle away. “I’m driving, asshole. I don’t fancy being in another car accident any time soon.”
“You’re a police officer.” I point out peering around Jai to look at Ted. “You should know the law.”
With a hearty laugh, Ted rolls down his window and tosses his bottle of beer outside. It whirls away. Whether or not it smashed on the asphalt, I have no idea.
“I’m dying tomorrow.” Ted announces. “Fuck the laws!”
He unclips his seat belt and moves toward the window. My heart leaps into my throat as my stomach heaves.
“Ted—” I reach across Jai, but he catches my hand.
“You’re wasting your breath.”
He threads his fingers through mine. My stomach twists painfully and my hands grow clammy. Jai notices and squeezes my hand tighter. It doesn’t help. All I can do is watch as Ted drunkenly climbs out the window and sits on the door, his feet resting casually on the back seat. I can barely put up with sitting correctly in my seat with my seat belt on. How can he be outside the vehicle while it’s moving?
“Wait for it...” Jai mutters.
Huss laughs, glancing excitedly between the road and his side mirrors. “Three...two...one...”
“Fuck the police!” Ted shouts. “Whoooooo!”
Once again, laughter rips around the car and it eases my tension. Their laughter is infectious and it makes me feel good—like I belong here. Hell, my own laugh even bubbles in my chest.
It’s funny how it works. I’m on the run from a psychopathic murderer and the world thinks I’m dead. By all accounts I should be miserable and paralyzed by fear. I’ll admit I’m terrified. Most nights I hardly sleep and the thought of the future is enough to reduce me to tears, but, in moments like these, I’m having the time of my life. If I had the chance to relive the past month or two I would and I wouldn’t change a thing. Why? Because I’ve learned a lot about myself and about life. They’re lessons I wouldn’t have learned anywhere else—lessons I’d hate to learn anywhere else.
***
Crasssssshhhh!!
I jump, clenching Jai’s forearm as the doors to the rundown establishment fly open, exposing a bulky, bald headed man in a leather vest. In his hands, he clenches a lean, beanstalk of a man whose face is all beat-up, his skin painted with black and purple bruises. Freeing his arm from my grip, Jai wraps it around my waist and swiftly pulls me to the side as the skinny man is tossed off the porch and down the stairs. I gasp as his frail body hits the dirt with a thud. Groaning, he curses into the ground, his blood turning the dirt into mud as it mixes with the earth.
“Holy shit!” Ted booms, holding back a laugh. “What’d he do?”
The aggressive man with the strong toss, disappears behind the black wooden doors as they slam shut, trapping the sounds of rock music and laughter behind it.
“Ignore him.” Joel states, brushing past me.
He clears the five stairs in two bounds, reluctantly slowing down when he realizes we’re not following. With an exhale betrayed by the sudden drop of his annoyed shoulders, Joel turns around.
“He’s hurt.” I point out, even though it’s obvious.
“It’s not our problem.”
Of course it’s not. It’s easier to ignore someone in need than to help. Unsurprisingly, Huss and Ted step around me and join Joel on the porch.
“You’re kidding?” I say, scowling at the three of them.
Ted shrugs his wide shoulders. “It’s kind of a buzzkill and besides, look at him. He’s homeless.”
I glance down at the small, old man who now sits on his ass, clenching his ribs. I can see how Ted came to that conclusion. The stranger’s hair is matted together, strands glued with blood and booze. His skinny, black jeans are torn around the knees and his Black Sabbath shirt is stained and sagging at the collar. Despite all that, despite the fear of him lashing out at me or sticking me with a used syringe, I step away from Jai and move closer to the man.
“Sir? Are you all right?”
“Emily...” Jai mutters, concern laced with warning clear in his low tone.
He looms over me, a protective lover at my back, pressing his wide palm firmly against my hip.
“Just another typical Thursday.” The man forces out, his voice trapped inside his boney chest. “I think I’ll be okay.”
His body quakes and shakes as he rolls onto his side and pushes himself on to all fours. He holds himself in that position for a little while, dragging on the seconds as if his pain will ease long enough for him to push himself onto his feet.
“Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Not unless you’re a doctor—ahhh.”
Stepping around me, Jai grabs the old man’s forearm and bicep and helps him to his feet. Jai gives me a look—pursed lips and a slight frown. He’s not happy about helping the old man, but he’s doing it anyway. For me. Someone fucking catch me before I swoon myself into a coma.
“You don’t smell too good, old man.” Jai states, turning his face up to the sky.
“You can talk. How much of that cologne are ya wearin? Jesus Christy. D’you soak your clothes in it?”
Panting, the man reaches for his front pocket and frees a shitty little cellphone. “Call me an ambulance.”
He tosses the phone to me and, luckily, even in the dim light, I manage to catch the ancient device.
“No, you go inside.” Jai says, holding his hand out. “I’ll call the ambulance and take this gentleman to the bus stop down the drive. They’ll find him easier there.”
I hand him the phone. “Are you sure? Because I don’t mind—”
“I’m sure. I’ll only be a second. Stay with Joel, all right? Don’t leave his side until I get back.”
I step back, my palms exposed. “Okay. I’ll stay with Joel.”
Supporting the bulk of the man’s weight, Jai escorts him through the parking lot and disappears into the shadows cast by the looming oak trees. I turn back to the building, unable to stop the shiver that shoots through me, lodging my heart in my throat. It doesn’t make sense to me why we’d come to a place where men are getting tossed out doors and I can’t even walk around by
myself. Although, I guess we’re kinda limited on places we can go in terms of being seen. Still, I’d just about take anywhere else over this run down, tin shed of a building. On a thick plank of wood nailed to the roof of the bar is a makeshift sign. The words ‘THE CAVERN TSMC’ are chiseled into it. Underneath its headline is a sentence. ‘In honor we fight. In death we rest.’
I’m not sure what it means, but it’s definitely not a slogan you can feel good about.
“It’s good fun here, Em.” Joel calls from the porch. “You’ll love it.”
Joel pushes open the doors and enters the premise, leaving me outside in the cold. I stare after him. He’s not even going to wait for me? My heart pounds in my chest, the stress of indecision eating me up. Do I go find Jai and beg him to take me home or do I follow Joel into the scary building and hope I’m not going to be gang raped the second I step foot inside?
AWOOOOOOO!
I jump as a dog howls close by and that just about settles it. I am not about to be eaten alive by rabid dogs.
“Joel! Wait!” I rasp in a rough whisper. “Wait for me!”
My shoes clack loudly against the rickety wooden steps and are even louder once I step onto the porch. I reach for the doors and they whoosh open at the last second, slamming against the tips of my fingers. I squeak as I slam on my brakes, clenching my hand to my chest.
I smell the leather first, then the booze, and, finally, the cigarette. I trail my stare up the man in front of me. Huge, black boots for stomping skulls into the ground, thick, coarse jeans for wiping the blood off his knife with, a plain black t-shirt to no doubt stuff in someone’s mouth as he’s beating the hell out of them, and a worn leather vest with ‘Vice President Devil’s Cartel Motorcycle Club’ stitched into the breast of it. I shrink into myself as I finally flick my gaze to his face. Oily, chin length hair filled with natural waves hang down the sides of his face as he glares down at me. His eyes are dark, as black as tar, and he has a scar that runs through his eyebrow.
I gulp.