Текст книги "Absolution Road"

Автор книги: Rachel Blaufeld

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Jake, don’t . . .” Aly whimpered when I quickly moved my tongue from her clit. “I want it back,” she begged.

I didn’t answer. My mouth wandered to the crease where her thigh met her groin, and did a little exploring in the small cavern of sensitive skin. I sucked hard when I made it up to her hip bone, leaving one hickey and then another.

“Please.”

That was all she had to say from her sweet mouth, and I was sucking the hell out of her clit, my finger dug deep inside her. I was done teasing, over being gentle, my control snapped. Her hips smacked my face as she tilted off the mattress. Fuck, her glutes were strong as hell when she wanted me to dine on her pussy. She kept her right heel digging into my own glutes, and I was pretty sure my cock was going to snap from the pressure.

I slid a second finger inside her, using the two in synchronicity to find her spot—the spot—and put pressure while I dragged my tongue hard over her clit.

“Oh God, Jake,” she wailed as she came hard and fast all over my face, her juices tickling the stubble along my jaw.

I sat up and swiped my hair out of my face. It was long again. I hadn’t buzzed it since the night Aly made me take charge again. There were fireworks that Fourth of July, and not just in the sky. I shaved it back then so I didn’t have to bother with it, but my girl liked her guy’s locks to be long enough to pull on. It was nothing but a quick trim these days when I went for a haircut.

“You want your hands back or you want to keep them tied up like a good kitty?” I asked as I propped myself over Aly’s sweet and sweaty body.

“Leave ’em,” she said.

I didn’t need any further talk. I just dove inside her body, my cock hitting the back wall of her pussy fast and furious. After a few pumps, I slowed the pace, dragging my length back and then leisurely sliding inside my most favorite place. We did this dance for a while, fast and slow, slow and fast, before Aly said, “Need my hands.”

I rubbed her wrists after reaching up and untying them, never slipping out of her. She fisted my hair and brought me in for a kiss, running the tip of her tongue along my mouth, prying it open and entering without warning.

“Faster.” She breathed the word inside my mouth, and I felt it rumble all the way down to my chest.

“Fuck!” I shouted, a loud growl escaping as I came hard inside my wife.

I tumbled off her and trotted off to the bathroom, my dick loose and rubbing my thigh. When I came back with a cloth to wipe Aly with, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, fastening on her prosthetic. “What are you doing, babe?”

“I just wanted to feel complete when you came back.”

“You are,” I told her. “You’re always complete.”

I knelt on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in mine and slipping off the prosthetic. I set the piece of metal and fake flesh to the side, bent my head, and kissed her stub. I knew she missed her leg. She couldn’t run stairs anymore. I owned a gym, exercised for a living, and that was something she’d always struggled with—the women all around.

“Aly, there’s no one but you for me. Not yesterday, today, or tomorrow. This”—I ran my finger along the scar where the doctors severed her leg to save her life—“this is nothing but another piece of your beauty. How you held on and survived for me, so we could live life together.”

Her eyes were pained as she looked up at me. “How will we have babies with me hobbling around?”

I knew she thought about it a lot. Since Bess and Lane announced they were pregnant with their second, Aly had mentioned babies here and there.

“What? I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“How do you know?” she asked as she ran her hand down my face.

“I just do. What are you trying to say?” I brought my hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet mine. My knees dug into the floor, my forehead rested on hers, and my heart beat at a furious pace.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a single millisecond, my heart stopped and my throat went dry. Then I remembered this was Aly, and we were meant to save each other; that with her I felt I deserved life, and now we had created life.

I grabbed her cheeks between my hands and kissed the fuck out of her face before I lifted her off the bed and up into my arms. “We’re going to be parents?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her eyes shining.

“Do you think I’m going to be okay? A good dad?”

Another nod from her. “But what about me? And this?” Her gaze wandered to her stump.

“I’m not worried, Aly-cat. I’m never worried when it comes to you.”

I could see her swallowing back tears, and I didn’t think we deserved that on our honeymoon—or ever—so I begrudgingly carried her outside the hotel room and onto the balcony. I set my wife, the soon-to-be mother of my child, into a chair, and I pulled up one right next to her.

Hand in hand, we sat and watched the sun rise. If this was what absolution felt like, I liked it.

No, I loved it.

Jake

Another year later

Oh my God, there were kids and dogs everywhere. Maverick rolled in the grass with Lucky, Bess and Lane’s new golden retriever puppy, and Luna, our new chocolate Lab pup, while Brooks staked out a quiet spot so he could keep a watchful eye on everyone.

Maddy was running through Lane and Bess’s backyard with a kite flying behind her, helped by James, who was all dolled up in linen pants and a dress shirt and carrying the baby he’d recently adopted, Cliffie. He couldn’t let Bess have one up on him with her gorgeous family; he wanted one too. He’d finally settled down with a man named Zach, who worked at the hotel where Bess used to work. The two of them gave a baby left at the local church a second chance. Now they were permanent fixtures in all of our lives. Weston toddled behind all of them, desperate to catch up to his big sister, chanting his favorite word for Maddy, “Ma, Ma, Ma.”

And under the tree, next to calm Brooks, my beautiful Tabitha slept in a Pack ’n Play, her tiny pink-covered bottom facing up, the mass of red curls matted on her head, her back rising and falling with each breath. I didn’t miss a one; my heartbeat was in sync with that little baby.

When Tabitha was born, I decided to take a final stand with Shirley. The tiny person placed in my arms right after she was delivered deserved a whole me, and it was about time I punched the past in the gut.

I knew Shirley had wanted to reconcile and be a part of our lives, but that was never going to be possible with me. I’d gone to see her and thanked her in person for returning Aly—I even gave her a gentle hug. She’d thought it meant one thing, but it actually meant the opposite. I’d explained how I needed to leave her in my past with all the other crap. I was moving forward, and I couldn’t do it with her hanging around. I had a new family that was depending on me, and they kept me grounded in the present. To maintain that, I needed to give up my fight with what happened.

I asked her to be happy for me and understand, and if she couldn’t, Lane and I would be taking legal action. She’d been upset and disappointed, but after her husband had urged her to cooperate, she’d agreed and stayed away.

Aly supported me in whatever I chose regarding Shirley, but I’d obviously pick Aly and Tabby any day of the week. No contest. With them, I permitted myself to go forward, to stop internalizing my anger. It wasn’t exactly perfect absolution, but more a new beginning, “starting over” or whatever Doc Wells called it. I’d come out the other side of whatever hell I’d resided in for so long.

Surrounded by my small circle, I felt confident in my purpose. Like today.

Lane was wearing some designer getup as he manned the grill, and looked as ridiculous as he usually did when I caught him venturing into the outdoors around their house. Bess and Aly came out the back door carrying various salads. Bess was pregnant again; my brother really needed to keep his dick to himself or wrapped the fuck up. Aly’s cheeks were slightly pink from the sun, her curves still a little rounded from having a baby, but her limp was now barely noticeable. She wore yoga pants despite it being summer because she still preferred not to put her prosthetic on display. I thought she looked gorgeous either way.

Pregnancy had been rough. The hormonal surges weren’t easy to begin with, let alone when you’re missing half a leg. But ever since Tabitha was born, Aly had been good. Really good. She’d worked for the last year for me, trading in defense strategies for business law. Apparently, while she was home recuperating from the whole incident, she took an online course on business malpractice and how it pertained to exercise facilities. That had been her grand plan, and I’d loved it the moment she’d shared it with me.

Aly had decided she was better suited for contract work. It was objective and clear-cut, and rarely resulted in abductions. Now she headed up my legal team. Actually, she was my legal team, but had been on maternity leave, taking a few months off to be with Tabby. I was her boss; she could do whatever the fuck she wanted.

“How do you want your burgers?” Lane called out.

“Cooked by a real man, not one in some Prada shit!” I yelled back, surreptitiously giving him the finger, to which he responded by mouthing fuck you back to me.

“Lane, why don’t you let Jake handle the grill?” Bess asked, laughing.

“Oh yeah, I want to see you behind that hot, smoky grill!” Aly chimed in, turning her grin toward me.

“Both of you, stop! I’m perfectly capable of grilling,” Lane said in his own defense before turning his attention back to his burgers.

Aly came over to where I was sitting and drinking beer, and sat on my lap. I rubbed my hand up her leg and let my thumb graze the crease between her thigh and that sweet, sweet pussy of hers.

“Want to go upstairs for a quickie?” I mumbled into her long red hair. She was wearing this gauzy, see-through white tank, and her hair was all wavy and wild. I wanted to yank it back and fuck her from behind. “Or we could take a quick ride in my new car and stop for a little nooky?” I teased her.

I’d kept the Hummer for the car seat and dog crap, but I did buy myself a hot date car. It was a fast little Porsche convertible in cherry red—my favorite color, by the way. Lane had tried it out this past week, and wanted one himself. Maybe I’d get him a little present for helping me get to where I was in my business.

“Al, you hear the big plans?” Lane called out.

Shit.

She raised one of her eyebrows. “Um, no. Do tell.”

Lane paused from flipping the last burger and scowled at me. “Jake, what the hell? Why do I have to be the one?”

“Because you have a big fucking mouth,” I shot back, frowning back at him.

“Jake, Maddy can hear you and repeat after you,” Bess said, scolding me.

Aly poked my arm, definitely not letting this go. “Lane, Jake? Bueller? Anyone? Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Lane shot me a shit-eating grin before he focused on Aly. “You’re sitting on the lap of a mogul, Al. My brother just stroked a deal with the biggest luxury hotel chain in the country to franchise his gyms in every single location. That’s right . . . Fizzle To Go will be in almost every major city soon, so when you travel, you don’t have to miss your gym at home.”

Her eyes huge, Aly turned in my lap to gape at me. “Babe? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I ran my hand over her cheek. “I needed to make sure it really happened. I still don’t believe it, but it looks like I need you to come back to work and go over the papers and actually hire a legal team. Lane’s guy has been filling in, and I need my main girl back.”

“Seeing as how I totally took advantage of my maternity leave, I get it.” Aly wrapped her arms tight around me, hugging me in only the way she could. “How did this happen?” she whispered. “It’s like a dream come true!”

I shrugged. “Well, the baseball team was traveling and didn’t like the hotel facilities after using mine, so they may have suggested to one hotel to check my shit out.”

“Jake!” Bess yelled at me again.

“Okay, Bess, I got you. I’m watching my language.”

“You have a baby now too, so clean up your act.”

I nodded and went back to my wife, whose ass was rubbing my chubby. “Let’s go celebrate upstairs.”

She smacked my chest. “Later, after Tabby goes to bed, I’m going to give you a little congrats present, but not now.”

“Promise?”

We were interrupted by the dogs barking at a squirrel scampering up a tree, and the puppies going wild trying to climb up right behind it. Whining ensued when they couldn’t catch the damn thing. Then crying followed, which was my cue to grab my baby girl. I knew it wasn’t bad for her to cry for a minute, but not my Tabby.

“I can get her, babe,” Aly said, hustling behind me.

“I was just going to bring her to you.”

She stopped and hooked her hands on her hips. “That’s not it, and you know it. You just can’t stand her crying for an extra second, and you’re the fastest one here.”

I nuzzled Tabby’s hair as I lifted her, inhaling her awesome baby smell. “Okay, yeah, but so what?”

“No one is ever going to live up to her softie of a daddy, Jason.”

I shrugged. “And that’s a bad thing?” I asked, knowing no one was ever going to be good enough for this little girl.

When I handed Tab over to Aly, she situated the baby’s head under her shirt. Of course, I stood guard to make sure no one saw boobage. My boobs.

“By the way, I’m not a softie,” I told Aly as I stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’m a bad-ass bodybuilder, Aly-cat, and don’t you forget it.”

“You’re just like your brother,” James chimed in. “You were all hard until you met a woman, and then you went soft like mush.”

“Isn’t it time for Cliffie to get a bottle or something?” I said, and shooed him away.

James just laughed and snagged a wine spritzer or some other girlie drink from the cooler next to me before walking off.

“You know I’m tough, right?” I asked my wife as I plopped down in the chair next to her, running my hand over Tabitha’s back under Aly’s shirt.

“Yeah, babe. You’re big and tough on the outside, but neither of us were survivors until we met each other. We’re our own little fairy tale, meant to be together. Beauty and the Beast.”

Isn’t that the truth? I leaned in to kiss the top of her fiery red hair, trying to get a quick look at those gorgeous tits of hers.

Maybe later.

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Read more from Rachel Blaufeld in Electrified, Book One in the Electric Tunnel Series.

CARSON GRAHAM shifted into fourth gear as he hightailed it away from the club toward his hotel. Why did he keep coming back to Vegas? Who the hell knew. If there was one thing he didn’t have any trouble finding or getting, it was willing women.

He knew women weren’t really “things.” They were interesting, often complicated creatures, and he both appreciated and respected them. He just happened to like women in his bed who came with no strings. It was the twenty-first century, after all, and there were plenty of women who liked that kind of deal.

He had never settled down, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. At closer to forty years old than thirty-five, he felt the bachelor life suited him just fine. Or maybe it was that he only deserved the single life. His particular circumstances hadn’t exactly set him up for success in the relationship department.

Picking up a little speed, he changed course and steered toward the mountains, needing more time to clear his head.

It would be great to be on his motorcycle right now, to be able to lean into the steep and winding curves, but it was back in his garage on the East Coast, grounded—just like his life at the moment. The sports car he’d rented here in Vegas would have to do.

As he shifted the engine into fifth gear the car jetted forward, allowing the tension to bleed from him with the increased RPMs. He was trying to drive away from the pull as fast as he could; the pull coming from an insanely gorgeous stripper he was lusting after in a big way.

There was something magnetic about Sienna Flower, dragging him in deeper and deeper. More than her sleek, toned body and her sensual moves when she wrapped herself around the pole, there was a draw deeper than the physical. Carson wasn’t a hard-up kind of guy. He never got like this over a woman. Ever.

Growing up without a mom, he was fairly certain there was nothing lasting about “love.” If a mother could actually up and leave her child without any notice, like his did, there was no such thing as forever. His dad had done the best he could to be everything to Carson, but the fact remained: When a six-year-old’s mother left and never came back, that fucked with a kid.

It fucked with a grown man too. As a result, Carson never considered love an option.

Lust, a few cocktails, dinner out, and then a good roll in Egyptian cotton sheets—that was Carson’s modus operandi. He definitely didn’t have any delusions of long-term love.

In reality, his thoughts on the subject of love didn’t really matter. His lifestyle and career didn’t allow for love; at least, that was what he told himself. After joining the FBI, he traveled all the time, leaving at a moment’s notice on any number of classified assignments. He was wise enough to know the FBI lifestyle didn’t lend itself to successful relationships, so he never pursued them. If he were honest with himself, he might admit maybe that was why he originally chose to take the FBI job, but who wanted to look that closely at their own motives?

He certainly couldn’t be hunting down a suspect in a different time zone while pretending to be at a sales conference in Orlando when he called home in the wee hours of the night . . . or morning, depending on where he was.

Eventually all the lies, fibs, or whatever you wanted to call them caught up in a field agent’s relationship. As a man who avoided conflict in his personal life for fear of being deserted, he knew the lying would eat away at him.

After cracking a high-profile missing person’s case at the FBI a few years ago, Carson had struck out on his own. Going solo, he built his own firm, still traveling and having a grand fucking time doing what he did best, which was remaining uninterested in a long-term relationship. Now he was an independent private investigator, making his own rules, and it suited him just fine. His reputation followed him and he took the cases he wanted—except for this current bitch of a case—which allowed him to have a good time living life.

To most people, he introduced himself as a bounty hunter or some shit like that. No need to have every Tom, Dick, and Harry asking him to take this or that heartbreaking case. Carson worked, traveled, and enjoyed the finer things life offered. He liked getting paid too much to take on pro-bono cases.

Although his recent case was starting to feel like one . . . that and a big, annoying crock of shit.

A vibration in his pocket partially dragged him out of his funk. Holding the wheel steady with his knee, Carson pulled the phone out of his pocket and hit IGNORE. Speak of the devil who got him involved in this crap. His best friend, Alex. He should have answered; the guy’s family had practically raised him. He owed him that but he wasn’t in the mood, since it was Alex’s fault that he’d taken this damned case.

Guilt overtook him as he traveled the long, dark desert road, and Carson dialed his friend back.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He focused on the open road ahead of him, the mountains bleeding into the skyline, the moon lighting his way.

“Not much. Just checking in. Making sure my oldest friend is still alive and causing trouble wherever he may be at the moment.”

“Yeah, yeah. All good here. Kicking around out west, trying to solve that shit case you sent me. Taking a much-needed break in Vegas as we speak.” He pushed his speed a little more, feeling the car purr.

“Way to make me jealous. I’m stuck at home watching the baby while my wife is out on a girls’ night out, and you’re probably on your way to getting laid. What’s wrong with this picture?”

“Nah, Alex. You go be with your baby and let your wife have a good time. You’re not missing anything. Except for a few strippers.” He laughed out loud.

A small chuckle came from the other end. “I’m gonna get you for that one. Have some fun for me, will ya? Keep me updated on the case. I know I can’t be much help, but if you need anything, let me know.”

Carson chuckled. “I wish you could help with the case. It’s turning into one hell of an adventure. I’m trying my best to help out your relative’s friends, but for the first time I just don’t know. Hell, listen to me rambling like I’m a spoiled bitch. Forget it, man. Go love your baby.”

“Okay, but stay in touch, Carson. Don’t go MIA so often.”

“I hear ya.”

As he disconnected, he thought about Alex’s comment. Going MIA, doing his own thing, was part of who he was.

His current personal life lined up with his new career perfectly. He had a few women around the country who knew the 411 when it came to him. Lavish times with no commitment; that was how he rolled. Period.

Now here he was, rushing back to Vegas every weekend. Why? What the hell was the draw? Carson sighed because he knew damn well.

Sienna Flower, adult entertainer with moves that would ignite a dead man, and eyes like a virgin, making him feel like a young kid all over again.

Christ, he had a problem.

The case he was currently working was burning him up and playing with his mind, besides displacing him to the West Coast. Although the job was lining his bank account—even at his lowest rate—it was taking much longer than he expected. He needed it to be over.

Am I losing my touch already?

He sighed and turned the car back toward the Strip while something nagged at his gut over this assignment. There was something odd, some piece of the puzzle missing, which was why the case was taking longer than expected.

What was wrong with him that he couldn’t find it? What was he missing?

It was a first for him, and he didn’t like it. Not. One. Fucking. Bit. Which was why he found himself running off to Sin City every weekend.

He needed to let off steam, and where better to do so than Las Vegas? It was an occupational hazard of his . . . letting loose. Going back to his FBI days, Carson always needed a little fun, a tiny walk on the wild side to let go of the stress of the job. Otherwise, he lived and breathed his cases, working late into the night to solve them.

He needed a good time to release the pressure, which he currently was finding at the Electric Tunnel, but the pressure only mounted more after visiting the club. What originally started out as a method to clear his head and make way for him to solve the case, was clouding his judgment even more.

Sienna Flower had happened . . . that was what.

His latest client—or clients, since it was a married couple—was able to pay him. Yeah, they were making good on his rates, but their friends raised the funds, not them. They were willing to keep transferring money to him, yet he didn’t like the eerie feeling that had begun to dog him. They were lying to him. Withholding information, at the very least.

For the first time ever, Carson was considering giving up the case. The only thing that stopped him was the worry that nagged him over the missing person he was hunting down.

Shit, I’m going soft.

He was turning into an emotional cream puff, which was a bigger occupational hazard than having a grand time in Vegas.

Originally, he’d needed a respite from the bone-deep worry that something was terribly wrong with the case, so he started heading to Sin City for the weekends. Now, his gut was messed up from the case and his head was fucked up from a stripper.

The family who had hired him was pretty certain their missing relative had fled out west or thereabouts. Why were they so convinced of that theory? Carson had been stuck scouring small towns for the last month and a half. He didn’t like small towns with strange people all up in each other’s business. Almost as little as he liked the case.

He was starting to need his weekly adventure to Vegas by Tuesday of each week. It was a place where he could disappear and enjoy himself for forty-eight hours. After all, he was still a man with baser needs.

The problem all began when he went to check out the infamous Sienna Flower the first night he got to Vegas. He hadn’t been able to tear himself away from her image, nor enjoy himself at all since that night. He couldn’t figure it out. He’d had many women over the years—gorgeous, seductive, exotic women when he was traveling—and now he was stuck on some Vegas showgirl. No, not a showgirl. Exotic dancer.

Carson downshifted the car as the lights of the Vegas Strip came into view, rolling around what little he knew about her in his head. Nothing about her made sense. She’d arrived on the scene a few years back, and before long became the biggest thing Vegas had seen in years. She didn’t do private rooms or parties. Ever. Asher Peterson, king of the adult dance club world, pulled her from lap dancing after only a year of dancing at the Tunnel. Now all she did was grace billboards, shake her ass onstage, and bring millions of dollars into the club.

He knew all this from Google. Fuck, after the first night seeing her, he couldn’t get her tits, firm ass cheeks, and electrifying eyes out of his mind. He’d Googled her like a horny teenager, and decided she must have been a local Asher had taken a liking to.

Were they romantically involved? Was Asher tapping that?

And why was he even thinking about Sienna’s potential bed partners? He was fairly certain that wasn’t a role even he could fill.

Do I want to?

Unfortunately, Carson had developed a nasty habit of heading to the Tunnel every Thursday through Saturday nights for the last month. Tonight was no different. He went to see Sienna dance. Then he left to go back to his hotel to either pick up someone in the hotel bar or jack off. Lately, his preference was to stroke himself to recent memories, those of a striking, gorgeous, naturally curvy woman with a heady combination of innocence and salacious moves.

He might as well have been in high school all over again, lusting after the prom queen, not knowing what to do about it other than rub one out.

This evening was different, though, because he had felt Sienna lock gazes with him. She looked right out at him as her act ended. She was smiling, but he could see right into her eyes. She was examining him back as though she wanted to know more about him.

It was disturbing on so many levels. He was a private eye. He should be able to read people. Yet she seemed to be reading him, looking deep within him.

He couldn’t begin to figure out Sienna Flower, and now she was trying to figure him out? The thought made him harder than he normally was when he exited the club. Tonight he was practically limping as he walked out.

He needed to get laid, stop coming back to Vegas, and leave his thoughts of Sienna Flower at the door.

Of course, he knew he’d be back at the same place tomorrow night with his eyes homed in on one stripper, his dick standing at attention. Weeks ago, he’d paid the concierge at his hotel extremely well to keep him on the weekend list for the Tunnel. Open ended. No need to waste that.

Leaving his rental sports car at the front of his hotel with the valet, Carson bypassed the gaming tables and slot machines and went straight to his favorite bar for a drink. He grabbed a seat at the far end of the bar and nodded at the bartender, Victor, who now viewed him as a regular and brought him a drink without his even needing to order. Top-shelf scotch on the rocks.

Fuck, he was officially a Vegas groupie. The valets knew him, the bartender knew his drink and had it ready as soon as he stepped foot in the lounge, the front desk gave him the same room each weekend, and he was lusting after a woman who starred in Lord only knew how many other men’s fantasies.

If his FBI buddies caught wind of this, they’d never let him live it down. Most of them were settling down, either resolving themselves to living double lives, or trading in their FBI badges for white-collar jobs. Not Carson, he was living the dream. Fast cars, motorcycles, big money, booze, high-end escorts—or dancers, depending on how you looked at it—and his current bullshit case.

He needed to relax and get a handle on all this shit. Carson caught Victor’s eye and then lifted his chin, smiling when Victor made his way over to him.

“Hey, Vic, how’s it shaking? You got any cigars back behind the bar, or do I have to move my ass to a special bar to smoke one?”

Victor chuckled as he wiped his hands on a bar rag. “You’re in luck, buddy, this is Vegas, where anything goes. I just happen to have a few select ones in a humidor under the bar. Let me grab it and you can pick your poison.”

Moments later Carson inhaled deeply, scotch in one hand, a fresh cigar in the other, his view on the casino floor. Actually, he was relaxing for the first time all week, coming down from his dark mood, and found himself not wanting another woman. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to take care of himself either, which was new.

Surprised at that revelation, Carson decided he was content to only finish his drink and cigar before heading upstairs to go straight to sleep.

There was always the promise of tomorrow night, and Sienna locking eyes with him again.

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