Текст книги "Storms Over Secrets"
Автор книги: J. A. DeRouen
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“Say You Love Me” by Jessie Ware
Present Day
I TURN OFF the truck ignition, completely clueless as to how we actually made it to her house. My foot stayed firmly jammed onto the gas pedal as she continued to stroke me through my jeans. When the engine dies, the cab is eerily quiet, other than the constant tapping of raindrops hitting the metal roof.
Celia watches the rain through the windshield and jolts at the sound of lightning. She lays her head on my shoulder and sighs. “Grams always said thunderstorms are the heavens weeping.”
Her voice is sad, reflective. Gone is the playful girl from just moments ago. I stroke her hair and lace my fingers through hers.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think we need a good storm every once in a while. Maybe the heavens aren’t weeping—maybe storms are the angels washing it all away.”
She lifts up and meets my eyes. “Washing what away?”
“The pain.” I lick her neck before nipping her softly with my teeth. I love the way her pulse dances under my tongue. “The regret.” My lips brush over her jaw, and I run my thumb over the dampened skin. “The sorrow,” I say, before pressing my lips to hers and sucking her bottom lip. She moves to deepen the kiss, and she whimpers when I deny her. I move closer, inhaling the scent of honeysuckles and raindrops.
“Let me wash it all away, Celia.”
I’m overcome with how right this feels. Everything before this—every kiss, date, girl, all of it—was counterfeit, a cheap imitation. I run my tongue over the ridge of her earlobe.
“Yes.”
I move back to meet her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” she whispers, sliding her hands underneath my rain-soaked shirt and dusting her fingertips across my stomach.
I can’t help but grin as I turn off the ignition and steal another kiss. “Again.”
“Yes.” She licks my upper lip. “Yes.” She whimpers as my thumb rolls over her hard nipple. “Yes, yes, yes.” She grips my cock and runs her thumb lightly over the tip.
And with that one touch, my restraint is gone. I swing open the truck door and drag her with me into the pouring rain. The splash of the raindrops nearly drowns out her giggles as I throw her over my shoulder and spank her ass. After taking entirely too much time digging through her purse for the keys and unlocking the door, I lower her to her feet and shut the door.
Silence hangs heavy in the air as we stare hungrily at each other. A roll of thunder rumbles above us. I want to live a lifetime in this moment—these precious seconds between anticipation and ecstasy. I watch Celia, clothes plastered to her tiny frame, her trembling hands curling around her neck, hunger mirrored in her eyes, and I know this is only the beginning.
“C’mere,” I say, my voice raspy with need.
She toes off her girly shoes and walks toward the hallway. She looks at me over her shoulder and smiles.
“Maybe you should follow me.” Her words are sultry and sweet at the same time … perfectly Celia.
I lose my shoes and socks at the door and unbutton my shirt when I see her sweater hit the floor. I see a furball of orange shoot across the living room and under the couch. That’s a good place for Eddie to be, because shit’s about to get R-rated up in here, if I have anything to do with it. I wouldn’t want to offend her virgin kitten eyes, old soul or not.
She turns to me when we enter her bedroom, the strap of her camisole dangling off her shoulder. Her hands curl around the bottom of her shirt, but I stop her before she pulls it over her head.
“I want to undress you.” She releases her shirt and steps back, looking me up and down. I raise my eyebrow in question and smile. “What?”
“I’ve never seen you without your shirt,” she says, licking her lips hungrily. “You’re bigger than I imagined … your chest, your arms.”
“Better to hold you with, my dear,” I say with a chuckle as I slowly pull her shirt over her head. I trace the black lace trim of her bra with the pads of my fingers and watch goose bumps erupt in my path. I tear my eyes away and smile at her. “Let’s keep up that line of thinking when I lose the jeans. Okay, Tink?”
She giggles and shakes her head at me. She traces her finger just underneath my waistband before curling her finger into my belt loop and pulling me closer. “Oh, I already know what I’m in for when you lose the jeans. Maybe I haven’t seen it, but I’ve felt it. I’m pretty sure my ass still has bruises.”
“Yeah, it does,” I say, pulling up her skirt and grabbing possessively. With one swift pull, the skirt puddles at her feet.
I slide the honeysuckle out from behind her ear. It’s damp with rain, the petals heavy with the weight. I run the wet petals down her neck, over the swell of her tits, down her belly button to the rim of her panties. Her eyes close and her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip. “Please,” she whispers breathlessly.
“Up on the bed, darlin’. All the way back.”
I stand at the foot of the bed and watch as she pushes back until her head hits the pillows. I toss the flower on the floor, unable to think of anything but her. She looks a little unsure of herself, her knees glued together and her hands fidgeting at her side.
“Bend your knees and open those legs for me. Wide.” She does so hesitantly, and her fingers dig into the blanket. Her eyes meet mine for approval. There’s the most delicious wet spot in the center of her pink, silk panties, and I have to unzip my jeans to relieve some of the pressure.
God, she’s fucking beautiful.
I’m on the bed in an instant, hands fisted in her hair, tongue sliding into her mouth, cock pulsing between her legs. Her body writhes against mine, meeting every stroke, thrust, and kiss with the same intensity.
“I need you, Cain,” she whispers onto my lips, and those words are the most beautiful love song I’ve ever heard.
“Where do you need me?” I travel open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her neck. I palm her beautiful tits and lick the hard nipple pushing through the fabric of her bra. Her back arches, and she moans when my teeth sink into the sensitive flesh. “Do you need me here?”
Short, bursts of breath and fisted sheets are her only response, so I continue my journey down. I lick the hollow of her belly button and grab her hips, holding her body still. I run my nose down the center of her silk panties, inhaling her want and desire.
“Wait, Cain, wait,” she stutters as she frantically grabs my hands and pushes back into the headboard.
I’m back up the bed in an instant, framing her face, holding her close. “What is it, Celia? Did I do something wrong?”
“God, no. It’s just that … well, I need to tell you that…” Her eyes dart everywhere but my face, and she huffs in frustration.
I brush her hair off her forehead and smile. “Tink, you know you can tell me anything. And if you want to stop, we stop. I—”
“Don’t stop!” she shouts. She slams her hands over her mouth, holding in an embarrassed giggle. “Sorry. But I don’t want to stop. I-I just need you to know it’s been awhile since, well, you know…”
“Is that all? It’s been awhile for me, too.”
“No, you don’t understand what I’m saying. I mean it’s been awhile. Like,” she leans in to my ear and whispers softly, “Years. Lots of them.”
Her eyes are wide, and her expression wincing, like she’s afraid I’m about to bolt from the room at her confession. Little does she know, this little nugget of knowledge makes her even more irresistible.
“It may not be quite that long for me, but if you think anything in my past has prepared me for this—for you—you’re crazy. I’ve never….” I kiss and lick my way back down her body. “Had anyone affect me…” I run my tongue along the seam of her panties and hook my fingers under the fabric. “The way you do.” I tug the dampened silk slowly down her legs. “So, if you think about it that way, it’s been longer than awhile for me. It’s been forever.”
When my tongue swipes hungrily through her soaked lips, her back arches, her body squirms, and a low growl releases from her lips as her fingers thread through my hair. The taste of her is intoxicating, like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I lick, I kiss, I drive my tongue inside her. I fucking love the feel of her clenched fingers pulling my hair, her frenzied cries filling the room with each suck, nip, and bite I deliver. The sound of my name erupting from her lips as she falls apart under my tongue is most erotic song I’ve ever heard.
My jeans fly off my body in an instant, and I slide a condom out of my wallet. I settle between her legs, and she spreads wider for me. I watch her come down, flushed cheeks, lowered lids, parted lips panting softly, and I’m in awe of her. I’m humbled to be lying next to someone so exquisite.
“Say it again.” I drop my forehead to hers.
“Yes, Cain, yes,” she whispers softly.
I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her lingering sigh.
“Yes.”
I slide my tip through her wet folds.
“Yes.”
I push gently at her entrance and watch her eyes close in ecstasy.
“Eyes on me.”
Her stormy blues meet my gaze, and I drive into her in one fluid thrust. It’s unimaginable pleasure, pure fucking bliss, and I close my eyes at the enormity of it all.
Because I’m pretty sure it feels like falling.
Moments pass in charged silence while I stay buried deep inside of her, unmoving. My eyes open slowly, and the sight of her is a delicious punch in the chest, gripping my heart. My body takes over while my soul is still stuttering with emotion. I plunge into her, her body moving in time with mine. Her nails bite into my ass, spurring me on—faster, harder, deeper.
Celia pulls my lips to hers and drives her tongue into my mouth, matching the rhythm of my cock. “Cain?” she whispers, smiling against my lips. “I wanna ride you.”
Those sexy-as-fuck words rolling off her tongue ignite me, and mischief dances in her eyes. I flip her in an instant, never breaking rhythm.
“Oh,” she rasps, as I drive in deeper at this new angle.
Watching her body roll with mine, beautiful curves, parted lips, sweaty skin flushed with desire, the erotic sight of my cock sliding in and out at a tortuous pace, it’s almost too much.
It won’t ever be enough.
She watches as I swipe my thumb across my tongue and brush lightly against her clit, then throws her head back and moans.
“Yes,” she cries, her pace quickening.
“Yes?”
I apply more pressure, circling, pushing, and pinching as she falls over the cliff. She weeps indistinguishable words and lustful cries as she contracts around me. I grip her hips and drive upward at a punishing pace. Another wave rolls through her body, and my desire almost reaches the point of pain as I erupt. I can’t get close enough, deep enough, as I pound out my pleasure.
Her sated and weakened body falls to my chest, my cock still pulsing deep inside her. A contented sigh leaves her lips as she lays her cheek to my heart, and her fingers dance lazily on my chest. Her hand moves over my heart, close to her lips. Her mouth curves into a sweet smile as she taps lightly, mimicking the rhythm of my heart.
I run a finger up her spine and neck, over her cheek, and press it lightly to her swollen lips. A single thought rolls through my mind—the only truth I know deep in my soul.
It beats for you.
“Free of Me” by Joshua Radin
The Past
“I’M NOT GOING. He can’t make me go,” Lucas says, turning his back to me and scribbling furiously in his notebook.
“It’s only a few nights, Lucas. You can do this. I know you can.” Before I get all of the words out, he’s already shaking his head.
I sigh in frustration and pinch the bridge of my nose. The Landrys are leaving in the morning for Alabama. Their annual family reunion is in Gulf Shores this year, and they’re going to stop at Ole Miss to pick up Audrey. She left for the summer session a week ago, and her mom is dying to see her new dorm and campus.
Lucas is not going, or so he says. His parents won’t hear of it, and I’ve begged, bargained, and I’m not above stealing, to make it happen. There is no safer place for Lucas than in a hotel room, sleeping in a bed right next to his parents. He’s got to go with them.
These past few weeks, following his botched suicide attempt, have been grueling. I spend each day watching his every move, dissecting his words for any hint of negative thoughts. I spent every night with Audrey until the day she left for Ole Miss, staying with Lucas until he was safely sleeping, keeping alert through the night for any noises from his room. After she left, I stayed with Lucas as long as possible each night, before crossing the street and peeking at his bedroom window all night.
I’ve never been so exhausted in my entire life.
“No, I have things to do here. Important things,” he says in a monotone voice, his eyes never leaving the paper.
“Lucas—”
He shuts his eyes and runs his hands down his face in frustration. “You know I can’t do it. The crowds, the noise, being away from my room … my things. They’ll know.” He turns to me with pleading eyes. “They’ll send me away.”
“I don’t want to argue, Lucas. I’m trying here. I’m doing everything I can—”
“I know, Celia. God, I know.” His head falls into his hands, and he grips his hair. “I’m killing you, and I hate it. I have no right to do this to you … no right to live this life … to take yours away. I need to be a man. To do what needs to be done.” He launches out of the chair and paces the room.
I grab his hand, and he rips it away. “What are you talking about? What do you mean?”
He stops, his back facing me and his head lowered in defeat. His fists clench and unclench as his shoulders rise with each breath. He turns around slowly and drops to his knees in front of me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you. I’m going to figure this out for us, Celia.”
I run my hands through his hair, trying to calm him. He rests his head in my lap and closes his eyes. He’s just as tired as I am. Whatever is happening inside his mind, it’s slowly draining the life out of him, and he won’t allow me to do anything but watch it happen.
A knock interrupts us, and Lucas lifts his head as his father opens the door. The actress in me takes over, and I smile cheerfully.
“Hi, Mr. Gene. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Celia. It’s getting late, though, and I need to lock up,” he says, giving me an expectant look.
Oh no, he wants me to leave. There’s no way I can do that. I can’t leave until Lucas is sleeping.
“I’ll be happy to lock up when I leave. Lucas and I were about to start a movie.”
“Another night. We have to get an early start tomorrow morning, and I need to speak with my son. Cindy’s already asleep. It’s time to call it a night, hun.” Mr. Gene widens the door to accommodate my exit and waits.
I turn back to Lucas, hands trembling, a heavy knot settling in my stomach. I lean in to hug him goodbye, and whisper in his ear as I pull away, “Remember our promises.”
Lucas doesn’t answer me, and I slowly stand up and walk to the door, wishing I could think of something that would allow me to stay with him.
“I’ve already told you I’m not going. I can’t, I have too much work to do,” Lucas says, his voiced laced with defiance.
“You can and you will.” Mr. Gene’s voice leaves no room for argument. “I’ll talk to you once I lock up.”
I walk slowly down the stairs, counting each step, wishing for a way out. I want Mr. Gene to see what’s right in front of his face. I pray he asks me about what’s going on with his son. I hope he’ll see the answer on my face and run up the stairs to question him. I need this weight lifted off of my chest. I don’t know how much longer I can breathe.
But he says nothing.
He wishes me good night, and I stand on the porch, staring at him as the door shuts in my face. The click of the deadbolt sliding into place jolts me into action, and I race across the street.
Once I make it inside and into my bedroom, I crawl across my bed and peek through the blinds. As I’ve gotten more afraid of Lucas’s actions, I moved my bed across the room and under the window so I could lie in watch somewhat comfortably. I send Lucas a few texts, asking him to let me know he’s all right, but I don’t expect an answer. He very seldom does.
I see shadows dance across the windowpane, and I assume he and his father are having the dreaded talk. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to know who won that argument, but I pray it’s Mr. Gene. What if Lucas’s issues were brought to light on this trip? I hate to wish that on him, but I feel a tiny glimmer of hope at the thought. Lucas could get the help he needs, and I would have kept my promise.
I jump to attention when I see Lucas appear in the window. He looks out into the night, and, if I didn’t know any better, I would think he could see me. I keep my room dark to watch him better, so I know it’s my imagination. He sits at his desk, head hovered over his work, seemingly scribbling, maybe mumbling to himself, for what feels like hours. I look over at the digital clock and see it’s two in the morning.
“Go to sleep, baby. Just rest for me, please,” I whisper, almost like a prayer as I shift and rock nervously.
Finally, he reaches over and turns off his desk lamp and rises from the chair. As his room washes in darkness, I thank God he’s safe for another night, and let sleep overtake me.
My phone alarms, sounding muffled and far away. I open my eyes just a crack to see the room is still bathed in darkness. I try to swallow against my cotton mouth and pull myself to a sitting position. I’m so groggy, my muscles actually ache with fatigue and my head throbs. I pad around my bed, shifting blankets and pillows, searching for my phone. It sounds again, giving away its location, and I stare at the incoming sender with lead in my belly.
Lucas Landry – My Boo
I swipe my phone unlocked and type in my passcode with trembling fingers, knowing I’ll find disaster at the other end.
No matter where I am, I’ll always love you. I promise you always.
“Breathe Me” by Sia
The Past
I DON’T CARE what he says, but I’m not getting in that car tomorrow morning. He doesn’t understand what he’s asking. He has no idea what I’m going through.
He’ll see how worthless you are.
Just like Celia. She looks at you like you sicken her.
You’re disgusting.
“I’m not worthless,” I whisper with little conviction. And they laugh. They always laugh at me.
The voices are relentless. Sometimes they come as crowded whispers, all faint words as one talks over the other. The whispers make it hard for me to concentrate. I fight to make sense of it all, as each murmur runs into another. Other times, the voices are metallic, cold and full of hatred for me. I even hear them in my sleep. They persist, no matter where I am, demanding to be heard, adding to the maddening chaos that is my mind. No one should have to live this way, but I don’t see a way out.
You’re not a man anymore. You’re pathetic.
You should end this. End this pointless life.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
I clutch my ears and groan, loud enough to drown out the voices, but not so loud to wake up my parents. I’ve mastered the perfect pitch over the last few months.
“I can’t break my promise to Celia.” I shake my head furiously, tears pooling in my eyes.
Celia doesn’t give a shit about you.
You’re worthless.
She doesn’t love you. You’ve ruined her life.
Worthless.
Worthless.
Worthless.
A tense hum fills the room, almost overpowering the voices, and I slowly crack open my eyes. The light from the bathroom is electric, summoning me. I step off the bed and stumble forward, unable to resist the magnetic hum. I stand in front of the mirror, and take in my reflection. Foul. Repulsive. Unlovable.
The light dims behind me and pulsates from the medicine cabinets, begging me to open the door. As I crack open the door, it glows, setting it apart from all the other objects.
The razor.
The acrid scent of blood fills my nostrils, drips in the back of my throat, and chokes me with its metallic taste. I know what I’m supposed to do. I break the feeble plastic into pieces and extract the sharp slivers of metal. As I hold them up to the light, they glow with a blinding intensity. The overwhelming hum emanates from metal, vibrating between my fingers with unbridled energy.
You’re weak.
You don’t have the guts to do what needs to be done.
No one will ever love you. It’s time to end this.
End this.
End this.
End this.
I fumble into my bedroom to look for my phone, tears streaming down my cheeks. I type out a message to Celia and press send before dropping the phone on the floor with a clatter.
“I love you, Celia. I’m so fucking sorry. For everything,” I sob as I trudge back into the bathroom. It’s time to do what needs to be done. There’s no happy ending for a man like me—only heartbreak and pain. She may not see it now, but I’m giving her a gift.
Celia can’t save you.
She doesn’t want to.
She wants you to die.
Die.
Die.
Die.
The sharp edge pierces my skin, and blood trickles down my arm, pooling in the palm of my hand. There’s no pain, only numbness and a cathartic feeling of release.
Cut deeper.
Get the job done.
Down to the bone.
I slice deeper, putting as much pressure into the cut as I can muster. Once I’m satisfied, I release the razors and watch them slowly float to the floor, humming the entire time, hovering over the tile reverently. I step away until my back hits the wall, and I slide down into a bloody heap. I place my mangled hands in my lap and watch with wonder as the blood runs down my wrist, trickles through my fingers, and pools on the white tile beneath me. As my life slowly seeps from my body, I ponder the beauty of the crisp, white tile in contrast with the deep burgundy smears of blood.
As the world around me turns to a muted shade of gray, everything becomes background as the numbness overtakes me. Everything except the one thing I wish would give me peace. The voices. They are as loud and vibrant as ever, almost cheering me forward. The only sound that drowns them out is the faint scream of Celia in the furthest part of my mind, before everything turns to black.
