Текст книги "Meet Me in the Dark"

Автор книги: J. A. Huss

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

She looks like she might cry, so I put my finger to her lips and murmur, “Shhh. Just close your eyes and let yourself feel happy for a little bit. Forget the past. Forget tomorrow. Forget everything except right now.”

And then I push her, just a little bit, until she takes a step back and her knees hit the bed. She bends without me even asking and sits down. I straddle her knees, still standing, and guide her body back until she finally accepts what I’m offering and settles into the blankets and pillows.

“What are you gonna do?” she asks, her eyes closed.

“Make you come. Make you come so you’ll never want to run away from me again.”

I part her legs, exposing her pussy. It’s wet with anticipation. And even though we haven’t even started, her thighs tremble. I lean in, my breath as hot as my desire for this girl, and circle her opening with my tongue. She stiffens again, but when I flick it across her clit, she forgets everything and moans. Her hand reaches for me, finds my hair, and she pulls.

She pulls me closer. She pulls me inside her.

I add a finger, then two. She’s so tight, she bucks her back from the stretching. But I go slow. Like she deserves. I doubt this girl has ever had a slow fuck in her life and it thrills me to be her first. I already ruined her the other night. I can’t take that back. Nothing can be taken back. But things can be made up for.

I make it up to her.

I lick and suck, and she begins to relax. Her mind, which must race with confusion every second of every day, slows down as my tongue takes its time giving her pleasure.

I can feel her muscles clenching, almost ready, and that’s when I stand up and unbutton my jeans. She’s breathing heavy as she looks at me, her eyes half-mast, her breasts taut and firm, ready for the moment I’ve promised.

“Please,” she says. “Don’t stop.”

“I have no intention of stopping.” I let my jeans fall to the floor, my cock hard and long, ready for her in an entirely different way than last time.

I lean over her and scoot her up to the top of the half-moon bed. My knees press down into the soft white comforter on either side of her hips and my mouth finds the soft skin of her stomach. I nip her with my teeth. Just a small nip. She gasps in some air as I drag my tongue up her body, stop to take another nip at her bunched up nipple, and then find her mouth. Her breath is warm and her lips are tender as I kiss her.

“Look at me, Sydney.” She obeys, but only for a moment. Her mouth tightens, like she might cry. “Shhh,” I whisper. “Don’t do that. Don’t feel sad right now. Please. Just forget everything and only think about how I make you feel.”

And then I ease down on top of her, my forearms on either side of her head.

I kiss her forehead and she lets out a sob. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits with shaky words. “I don’t know what you want or why you want it. I’m lost.”

“You’re not lost. You’re here with me, where you belong. And I want you to do whatever you want, Sydney. But don’t do it to please me. Do it because you want to please yourself. Do it because you enjoy it.”

I kiss her again and she opens her mouth this time, our tongues twist together, reaching for each other in a way only tongues can. It’s slow, and sensual, and erotic.

Perfect.

My tip bumps up against her opening and she almost bites my lip with surprise. “Shhh,” I say again. “We’re gonna go slow this time.”

I ease into her, just a little bit. She gasps with pain, so I hold still for a moment, letting her get used to my size. When she relaxes I push in a little farther, and this time she accepts it. She opens her legs wider. Her hands stop clawing my shoulders and drag down my biceps. I’m the one who moans now.

This girl, man. She can make me moan with a touch. I push inside her farther and she presses against me, urging me to begin.

But I don’t. This is the slow fuck. This is the sweet fuck. So I don’t pound her hard. I love her deep. I kiss her mouth and slip one hand under her ass, cupping her cheek in my palm. The other hand plays with her hair.

Our hips move in unison. Slowly and with one purpose in mind. To feel each other. She comes first, a slow wave of contractions that clench against my cock, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to come inside her as she does.

When she stills, I push deeper, making her arch her back. I reach up and palm her throat, gently so it doesn’t scare her. I don’t want her thinking of anything but me. And when her eyes finally open and meet mine, I pull out and explode on her stomach.

We lie there in each other’s arms for a long time, until the smell of the roasting meat from down below wafts into my mind and wakes me out of my half-sleep. I empty a pillow out of a case and wipe down her stomach, wondering if I can get her in the shower later. And then I toss it aside.

“I don’t know what to say,” she says, when I finish. “Maybe, thank you.”

I pull her up off the bed and she watches me dress. I lean over and grab her shirt, then tug it over her head. She sighs as her body is once again covered. But I don’t think it’s with relief. I think it’s with regret. Not for letting me fuck her like that. But because we have to stop.

I smile as I hold open her jeans and she grabs my shoulder for support as she steps into them. And then I button her pants up and take her hand.

“Let’s not say anything right now. Let’s just eat.”

“Never forget that you are vulnerable—even when you feel invincible.”

– Sydney

We walk downstairs hand in hand. I have no idea what’s happening, but I don’t care at the moment. What he just did… what he just made me feel… I had no idea sex could be like that. I have never felt the tender touch he used on me tonight. I have only had it angry and hard. No soft words telling me I’m pretty. No slow movement, no thoughts about me at all. Garrett took me. That’s about how I’d describe what we did in the dark. He never asked. He never even made me come. Never even asked me if I did.

But Case… how can this man be so soft with me?

It’s confusing. And all kinds of doubts creep in.

He’s using you, Syd.

I’m not even sure whose voice that is. Is it me? Is it Garrett? Is it the imaginary man in my head? I’d go with option three if it weren’t for one thing. That man was always Case.

And I’m not crazy. They think I am, but I’m not. I’ve just been in the dark too long. Lied to too much. Betrayed over and over again.

Even Brett. I don’t know what that relationship was. Business? I’m not sure. He was always interested in the bar. But he was… friendly. Not like Case. Brett never offered me a soft fuck. I said I was a virgin and he assumed I wanted to wait until our wedding night. I’ve been dating him for over a year and not once did he ever push me.

How does a man control himself for that long? If he wanted me, wouldn’t those urges get to him? Wouldn’t he at least start a conversation?

He did other things—with his fingers. He did make me come. Not always. And I made him come. I gave him oral sex.

I’m so confused.

When we get to the kitchen I take a seat at the bar and even that feels weird. I always served Garrett. Even Brett liked me to wait on him.

But Case, he doesn’t seem to mind cooking for me. Or cleaning up.

That’s because he’s using you, Syd. He wants the answers he knows you have.

I do have some. I’ve lied about a few things since he took me. But I was his captive. Why should I be expected to tell him the truth?

“What are you thinking about?” Case asks as he puts a plate of meat and vegetables in front of me.

I let out a long breath and decide to be honest as he sits down in the stool next to me. “I need to know what you want.” I look down at my bowl of food, my hair falling forward.

And he does that thing again where he pulls my hair aside to see my face. I look up a little, just enough to catch a grin when he pulls away. “I want you to eat. And then I’d like to take you to the shower and wash you up. And put you to sleep in my bed wearing my clothes.” He shrugs when I scrunch up my face. “I don’t have any more clothes for you. So…”

I clear my throat to give me the courage to continue. “But what will you want tomorrow?”

“I left today, you might’ve noticed.” I nod. “And I have something to show you tomorrow. Hopefully, anyway. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“What is it?” I can’t help my curiosity.

“A surprise.” And then he starts eating.

And I do too. I let it all drop away for now. I’m OK. I’m not drugged. I’m not in any danger, I don’t think. He’s being nice. He’s handsome in so many ways. I mean, I’ve dreamed about this man since he left me out there in the wild. I’ve felt every emotion for him over the course of time.

I’ve cursed him for leaving. I’ve begged him silently to come back. I’ve loved him, hated him, wanted him, and forgiven him so many, many times over. I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime with this man. And yet I had no idea he could be so…

“Sydney?”

I look at him.

“You done?”

I look down at my plate and see that it’s empty.

“You want more?”

I nod and he makes to get up. But I catch his arm, making him stop. “Not food, Case. I want more… of…”

“Me?” he asks, grinning like a man who knows he’s desirable.

“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out. “More of that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m afraid,” I whisper. “It’s not real. I don’t think it’s real. How can life be so… easy?”

He leans over and cups my face in one hand. His lips touch mine. “You know what makes it easy, Syd?” He waits for me to shake out a no. “Doing the right thing for yourself makes it easy. When you’re fighting with yourself, that’s when things get hard. When you have to talk yourself into being someone else to survive, that’s hard. But when you can let all that go and just relax, just act honestly—that’s how you make life easy.”

“How do you know that? How did you get so smart?”

“I’m a genius. And I’m ten years older than you. I’ve seen more. Lived more. Done more. You pick this shit up by experiencing it.”

“But you’re a…”

“Killer.”

He says it so easily. Like it’s his true self and he owns it. And that’s part of my problem. He’s dangerous in so many ways. He wanted to kill me last week. He tied me up, drugged me, hit me. “Does it bother you? Being a killer?”

“No. It’s just what I do.”

I lean forward and put my head in my hands. The bandaged one is warm, but the other one is cool and it feels good on my face.

“But you know what else I do?”

I shake my head no, not sure I want to hear it.

“I’m a decent kisser.” I huff out a breath and make my hair fly up in my face. “I can love you soft or hard. I can give you advice. I can be a good friend. Hell, I can even be a good father. I’m not Sasha’s father, but it’s good practice.”

I look up at him now.

“To learn how to take care of people. I take care of her. She doesn’t need money, she has more than enough. She doesn’t need a best friend. She has those, too, I’m sure. But she calls me, Sydney. When she has something to talk about. I’m the guy she tells her problems to. I’m the guy she calls when she needs advice. So yeah. I kill people. But I am so much more than a killer. It’s complicated. I get that. But what I do is not complicated. What I do is simple. I survive and I make sure everyone I care for survives too.”

“Do you care for me?”

He puts his fingertips to my lips. “Not tonight. We’re not gonna have that conversation tonight.”

“I think I need to go.”

“Tomorrow, Sydney. After I show you what I did today, tomorrow you can go. But right now we’re gonna go upstairs, take a shower, and go to bed.”

I take a moment. And in truth I need so much more than a moment to gather all this shit up in my head and make sense of it. But I don’t have more time. And I don’t have any answers, either. I have nothing.

Nothing but this man.

So that’s what we do.

He leads me by the hand again. We retrace our steps up to the second floor and take a shower together in the master bath. He shampoos my hair and talks about his life. His first hit was a gangster in Boston when he was seventeen. He tells me how he had an appointment with MIT the next weekend and met his best friend. He talks about lots of other jobs too. Girls even. The two girls Garrett killed. Case explains that he dated them, had regrets for getting them involved in his life and set them up in Mexico to try and forget about what that might mean. The fact that Garrett killed them bothers him, but not much. He talks and talks and talks. Most of the stuff is nothing I want to know. But he tells me anyway.

He is a killer.

But then he dresses me in a white t-shirt that smells like him, and a pair of boxers that are way too big, and tucks me into his bed.

His arms wrap around me. His body heat gets tangled up in my own. He kisses me on the lips and says goodnight.

He is a killer.

But he is this man too.

“How?” I ask, when we are settled into bed. “How can life be so complicated and easy at the same time?”

“It’s a joke, Sydney. And the joke’s on us. Sanity, morals, right and wrong. They are all illusions. And sometimes we can see them clearly, and sometimes we can’t. But you always know when you’re OK. You always get that feeling that nothing can touch you. And tonight nothing can touch you. So close your eyes and let it go.”

I stare up at the ceiling after his breathing evens out and wonder if I’d be doing the world a favor by grabbing a gun out of his nightstand and shooting him in the head.

Probably. That’s the conclusion I come to. I have no idea what all that means. I have no idea if I believe him or not. I have no idea if he’s wondering right now if he should just pull a gun out of his nightstand and do the world a favor by killing me too.

I’m just glad he doesn’t. I’m OK with this. Because even though he is that killer, he is this man too. The one who feeds me and fucks me softly. The one who knows who I am and what I do. And he, of all the people who have floated in and out of my life, is the one who’s here.

You can say many things about Merric Case, but you can’t call him a hypocrite or a liar. Because he was one hundred percent honest with me tonight. He basically stood up on a mountain top and screamed, Here I am, take it or leave it.

I decide I don’t want to leave it.

He’s morally questionable. He’s violent and possibly even sick. But I am all those things too.

My eyes grow heavy and finally close. And I drift off knowing that I was right about him for all these years.

He is the man who shows up when no others will. He is the man who looks death in the eye and laughs. He is the man who will pull that trigger when the whole world stands there in shock, unable to move.

He is the only man who can save me from myself.

“When your whole world is made up of lies it’s OK to be irrational. But when the time comes, you must be prepared to let it go.”

– Sydney

I wake up first and go downstairs. I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows and wonder how two fucked-up people can be immersed in such beauty. The mountains, the snow, the frozen river running through this perfect valley.

And I come to the conclusion we are wild. And that’s why we belong here.

He comes down a few minutes later with the first-aid kit in his hand. The smell of coffee brewing permeates the house and calls out like a morning wake-up.

“Morning,” he says, reaching for a cup in the cupboard. He pours a cup, takes it black—the way a man like him should—and kisses me absently on the head as he walks by.

I almost drop my own coffee cup.

“We can eat later or now.”

“Are we in a hurry?” I ask, composing myself before he takes a seat at the bar and gives me his full attention.

“I don’t think so. You’ve been here for weeks and no one came looking.”

God, that stings.

“But I gotta get on the trail and I need you to come.”

“OK,” I say, finishing my coffee and walking over to the sink.

“Come sit so I can take a look at your hand before we go.”

I do as he asks, letting him unwrap the bandages and look the blisters over. He dabs the ointment on the blisters that have popped, and then wraps it back up. “You need some pain pills for this?”

“No, thank you. The last thing I need is more drugs.”

He gives me a strained smile and then another absent-minded kiss on the head, his hand lingering in my hair just long enough to make me feel… loved.

And how crazy is that? How, after one perfect day, can things have turned so completely around?

Because you’re needy, Syd. You want affection, and even the affection of this killer who did all those terrible things to you is better than none.

Stockholm syndrome comes to mind again. How did I get here? The music, the soft fuck, caring for my hand… I add it all up in my head.

Things look so different in the light of day. I guess that’s why I prefer the dark.

We dress in our snow gear and then I follow him out to the garage. He backs the snow machine out and points to the seat in front of him as I watch. “Let’s go.”

He’s businesslike today. Like he’s on a job and not like he wants to make love to me. But that would be normal, right?

He’s gonna take you out into the woods and kill you, Syd.

He could do that. But why? I’m here. No one lives anywhere near this house. He could kill me in the driveway and leave my body there until spring. Let the wolves eat me. No one would come looking. No one would ever know.

I get on and his chest presses up against my back. We ride along for a while. The recent snow has covered up all tracks from the last time we were out here. It’s just a blanket of white so blinding I wish I had his sunglasses.

When we finally stop, I’m ready to panic. He’s been silent the whole time. And I realize that a snow machine and conversation do not go together, but some sort of communication would make me feel a whole lot better about letting him get me into such a vulnerable spot. How appropriate would it be for him to talk me up with all that shit last night, only to dump me into the wilderness to be hunted by wolves? Or freeze to death?

He cuts the engine and we sit in the silence for a moment. “Ready?”

I have to swallow hard. “Should I be?”

He swings his leg over and then reaches for me, pulling me off the seat. “Depends, Syd.”

That’s all I get out of him. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I feel like a prisoner being led to the firing squad. We trudge through the deep snow that has drifted up between the trees and finally come to a halt about a hundred feet from the frozen Yellowstone River.

“What are we doing, Merc?”

He does not miss the fact that I called him by his trade name, and he shoots me a look. “We’re gonna check a trap.”

My heart starts to beat wildly and my feet are frozen in the snowdrift I’m standing in. “I don’t want to check traps.”

“I know,” he says in that voice that tells me he’s all business. “But you’re gonna anyway.”

He walks a little further on, almost dragging me now, and then we both slide down an embankment—sending a small avalanche ahead of us.

“Are you gonna cut a hole in the ice and drop me in?” I laugh a little, but the frown he sends over his shoulder makes me shut up.

“Don’t get crazy on me yet.” He reaches out and pulls a long pine branch, making the snow fall off as he gets it free.

My heart skips when I see what’s inside. “What are you—”

“Shhh,” he says. “Don’t freak out on me now. OK?” I look him in the eyes for that, because this is most definitely the killer voice.

The rabbit inside the cage is paralyzed with fear.

I know the feeling.

Merc picks up the cage and shakes it a little to get it free from the twigs that he used for camouflage. The rabbit goes berserk inside, bouncing off the wire walls. “Follow me, Syd.”

He walks a little further down the embankment right to the edge of the river. The Yellowstone freezes, but it’s not always safe to walk on. “I don’t like the ice!” I call out, several yards behind him now. My feet feel heavy. My body is reacting to what we might be out here doing. If he makes me kill this rabbit—

He sets the cage down on the bank, squatting down with it. He’s wearing white camo winter gear, like me. We match and we blend. This thought gives me the courage to follow.

What is he doing?

He looks up at me, pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, and then smiles. “What did you tell me yesterday about the rabbit? Have I ever heard a rabbit scream?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Uh—yes.” He gives me a stern look, his amber eyes catching the sunlight out of the east.

“I don’t think I did,” I reply, already out of breath from that one brief mention. “I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud before.”

“I drugged you, Sydney. Remember? You were hysterical, going on and on about a rabbit. That show triggered a memory. You talked about it a little. You told me—”

“No!” I scream it so loud the rabbit begins to squeak, and I swear to God, if it screams—

“Sydney, sit down. Now. Right here,” he says, patting the ground in front of the trap.

“I don’t want to,” I whisper. “I really, really don’t want to be near the rabbit.”

“Do you realize it’s irrational to refuse?”

I nod. I do realize that.

“Do you understand that this will help you get past it?”

“No. It won’t. It will just make everything worse. This is why you want me out here! This is why you’ve been so nice. You wanted to trick me into telling you things!”

“Do you have things to tell me, Syd?” He asks that question so calmly. His reaction is such a stark difference between us.

“I don’t want to talk about the rabbit. I don’t want to talk about the rabbit!”

“Sit,” he commands.

I close my eyes. I know this is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. But when he gets up and takes my hand, I feel helpless again. Just like all those years I spent with Garrett. I follow him over to the cage where the white snowshoe hare is in shock with fright.

I know that feeling.

“Open the cage, Sydney.”

Dear God, please, please don’t make me kill this rabbit.

“Open it.”

I get up and walk to the cage, and then bend down and unhook the latch on the door. I look over my shoulder at Merc and he nods, so I lift up the wire and fling it back. It clangs against the top, but the rabbit is too frightened to move.

“Now step back here with me.”

I walk back and squat down next to him, unsure of what’s happening. “Now what?” I whisper.

“Now,” he says, turning to me with a smile, “we wait.”

“For what?”

“For the shock to wear off and for the rabbit to leave.” I frown at him. “We’re setting it free, Syd. We’re setting you free too.”