Date = 9 July
Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)
POV – Aria
WARNING sex scene!!!
“Do you want me, Fairy girl?”
I feel his need pressing against my hip and resist the urge to let out a whole hysterical laugh. “Sport … ”
“Yes,” he feathers kisses down my neck. My brain shuts down.
“I … eh … ” Oh hell I’m stuttering. I let out a low laugh and try to push him away. “I want you. I do. But I still want to hurt you too. Because you always hurt me … but that’s just who you are … and I know that … you’re a player and actually it’s not your fault … you never led me on … but still I need you to feel the same pain … it’s pitiful but …”
He cups my face and kisses me … most likely to shut me up … and frickin hell it’s working – here hauled up against the very sexy, very warm, very hard body of the man I love I’m totally speechless.
There’s a million and one reasons why this is a bad idea … my heart getting broken all over again the main one. I should run. Now is the time to push him away, reject him and go. Have my payback. Head held high.
“Fuck, girl,” he murmurs against my mouth, “I missed you so bad.” My heart flips, belly up.
In that moment everything comes crashing down, my fear, my pain, my anxiety, my loneliness, my need and it all points straight to what I already know.
I love Enrique Blackburn. I’ve known it for a while.
But I only now realize just then and there exactly HOW much I love this man. That no matter what I do … or what he does … it will never change. Dammit.
It unsettles me, deep inside. I know this has to end. I’m just a pretend girlfriend with benefits … was a pretend girlfriend. Nothing more. BUT I need just this one last time. Then it’s over for good. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back.
It wrenches a rough groan from the pit of his throat. He pins me to the cabinet as he kisses me, kisses me like he’d never kissed me before, as if I am so much more than the woman he signed a contract with, a woman he merely pretended was his girlfriend.
He kisses me as if I mean something to him, and it splits my sole wide open. Hope claws inside. I gasp a breath and give it back to him, what I’ve never given before – everything.
He presses into me, slide his fingers into my hair, pulling, tilting my head to a better fit for his continuous devouring. Abruptly he lifts his head, looks deep into my eyes. Every time the contrast within his gaze shakes me … one dark and mysterious … the other warm and homely. Both now yearning and needy.
“What?” It’s a soft husky whisper … that’s all my vocal cords can manage right now.
“I just want to see if the feelings I’m feeling are duplicated in your eyes.” His gaze sweeps over my face and softens. “They are.”
He let out a low feral growl before coming at me again, settling his mouth firmly over mine, his tongue forcing it’s way inside. I wriggle my fingers into his hair and clutch at him for support as his words turn my knees to mooch. I’m a pathetic mess.
Yes. Bizarre as it seems, this man evokes every feeling in the book in me. And more. He can sex me up with one look, destroy me with another, give me hope, shatter my heart, make me love … and that’s just the start. The frustrating thing is that I never know what he’s feeling. But right now, I don’t care. Right now I’m heating with desire – my toes are curling, my skin is burning, my nipples have popped and my core is in serious need of attention.
As if he reads my mind (not a surprise there), he slides his hands down my body over my ribs, then lower to my hips. And back up again. Covering my breasts, his thumbs scour over my nipples that’s clearly visible through the thin material of my top. This yanks a gasp from me and an inarticulate moan of need from him.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” his voice thick, “Beautiful.” He works open the small buttons of my red polka-dot blouse, murmurs something unintelligible, while slipping his fingers under the white lace. Simultaneously he scoops down both bra cups, liberating my tits into his grasp. With an oafish sound of hunger, he bends his head, nibbling one perked nipple, his palms kneading the full curve of my breasts.
“Sport.” We’re in the kitchen. Anyone can come in at any time.
“Yeah.” He looks up, eyes burning bright and intense. Half my mind wanders off, and the other half goes looking for it. My jaw drops and I try to find a single rational thought. I’ve got nothing. All I can do is stare at him with an open mouth and a blurred gaze like a knocked-out puffer fish.
He tilts his head and grins – that stupid knee-flopping, panty-wetting smirk of his.
“I know, baby.” His fingers crush the hem of my white denim skirt and he pulls it up. And up … until it’s bunched around my waist.
Grin still in place, he tilts his head to take me in … my white silk high-cut probably drenched by now. He swallows, a little vein in his jaw beating fast. His hands run beneath the silk, cupping my bare bottom in those big warm palms, hauling me up onto the counter.
My control is fray. I wrap my legs around his hips.
“Mm.” I moan as he rocks those hips, prodding his sex right up against that already damp piece of silk covering my throbbing core.
“Please,” I manage with a lustful exhale of breath as he contracts his grip on my body and rocks again, his tongue playing with one lucky teat. Ecstasy rushes through me, pleasuring me to the very tips of my curling toes. I’m still wearing my red stilettos.
With tight fists I cling to his shirt, breathing like an overheated dog, wondering if a person can combust from the inside out. ‘Cause I’m about to explode.
“Enrique … ” It’s a lust-filled dead plea. A pitiful solicitation. I’m frickin begging here.
“I know. I fucking know.” His breath feathers my wet nipple sending goosebumps over my heated skin. He trails kisses up my neck and greedily massacres my mouth. I let him. One hand presses lightly against the arch of my back, the other moves up one leg and slips underneath my underwear, finding me hot, wet and wanting. He dips into that heat, lifts his mouth and lets out a strained groan. His eyes lowers to look where he’s stroking me. He pumps his fingers deeper. My hips palpitate with titillated hunger.
“Holy fuck, baby!” He kisses his way from my shoulder to my ear, sips my lobe into his warm mouth, his fingers doing everything right down there. “You’re so fucking wet.”
My muscles quiver, tighten and I throw my head back. His lips move to a pushed up breast, he covers my nipple and sucks. Hard. Biting lightly with his teeth. The slightest hint of erotic pain sends a fiery shock wave to every nerve-ending in my body. He scrapes his thumb down my slit, then pinch my clit, putting a little pressure on it.
“Holy fucking cows!” I cry out. He covers my mouth with his.
“Shush,” he mumbles hoarsely against my lips. “We don’t want to wake the crazies,” his breathing harsh and fast. Unexpectantly two fingers shove deep, and he swallows my scream into his mouth. Oscillating my hips, I’m on the edge.
“Cum for me baby.” He plays me like a grand piano. Holy peanuts.
I do.
I cum so hard a musical orgasm rips through my body, leaving my muscles puckering and quivering. And my ears humming. He doesn’t let up. His tongue curls with mine, his fingers drive me insane as I cream over them. My hands move to unbutton his pants, jarring down the zipper.
He licks, sucks, and kisses his way from my mouth, over my collarbone to my breasts, giving special care and respect to each rockhard tit. I whimper, selfishly wanting more, which he readily provides. My need threatens to burst again, I want him inside me.
My hands struggles with his jeans, managing to get it down enough to free him. He’s big and hard and ready. My fingers cup his balls and I squeeze lightly. He sucks in some air through his teeth, his body going rigid. Moving my hand, my palm glides over his firm, impressive length, familiarizing myself with my most favorite part of him.
“You’re fucking killing me here.” He stares at me in unblinking intensity, radiating pure masculine sexuality, until I can’t stand it anymore.
“I need you inside me,” my voice deep and raspy like a phone-sex operator. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. With a quick nick of his fingers he slides my panties to the side, hissing at the view.
He pushes into me – big and thick and hard – his ravenous eyes holding mine captive. I bite his neck to dull the desperate needy cry that rumbles from my lips. Then suck that perfect skin. His hands are on my ass, holding me in place.
“Oh, fuck.” His breath jibes sharply in my ear. “You feel good. So damn good, love.”
My vagina squirms. Then blooms. What (and I can’t stress this enough) the fuck. I must be hallucinating from the effects of the upcoming orgasm. An orgasmic high. That’s it. I’m zonked.
He pulls back and thrust into me again, filling me to the brim. I’m stretched so thigh that I can hardly stand it.
“Love … you …say,” I whimper incoherently for more.
“Huh?” He also sounds rather mindless. Forget it, my brain is not working right now.
“Again,” I mutter what I want, and he surges into me hard, going deep. He sets his open mouth on my shoulder, licking his way to the corner of my mouth. He plunges his tongue between my lips at the same time as his next thrush. Gnawing my bottom lip as he moves inside me, he murmurs something into my mouth – his voice filled with guttural hoarse emotion, and that is it for me.
I shatter from deep within, every bodily sensations possible in human anatomy crashes over me. He follows with raw muscular satisfaction tearing from his throat, gripping the counter so intensely his knuckles turns white. He pumps again, exploding.
His body shudders. Trebles and goes taut. Muscles stiffen, a little shiver discharging a last eruption. “Mm.”
He pushes his forehead against mine, eyes closed, breathing harsh. I sniff in his scent like a drug. A viral sharp male fragrance opens with bergamot veering into zingy geranium underpinned by mandarin and sage with a sprig of aromatic lavender fills my nose. CK Eternity. Oh, how I just love love LOVE the aroma of that highly priced green liquid. Love. Was it my imagination … or did he say it? I can swear he did. Nah, it was just wishful thinking. But what if he did? Did he mean it? Oh, please let it be true.
He pulls back, zips up and rebuttons, then stands there monitoring me. I try to keep a neutral face, knowing by now that Blackburn eyes never miss a thing. I slip down the counter and try to pull myself together, dragging my skirt down, recupping my boobs, and fastening my shirt. All this while being watched like a heron looks at a toad.
“I want you naked. Shall we go take a shower?” The question benumbs me. I know I need a shower … but taking one with him … after all this.
“Suppose you need one after what you just did.” The voice galvanizes me and my legs go numb. I’m painfully aware of the flush of heat spreading up from my neck to my cheeks.
“You … eh … saw …” I splutter, fluffing my words. Jackson walks closer and leans his hip against the kitchen island, a huge smirk on his sexy just-woke-up face. He’s enjoying this way to much.
“Calm down, ginger. Watching is not my style,” he folds his arms. I don’t know what that means.
“But it’s not hard to guess.” He scans over his brother, “Dude’s got a nasty hickey going.” Then those eyes pin me down, “And you are all sexed up and wrinkled.” My face is flaming.
“Ah, it’s a little late to blush, don’t you think,” he continues to tease. “But don’t worry darling, nothing I’ve never done before.” Now that I believe. If I wasn’t still jibberish and shaking from that mind blowing orgasm, I might have flipped him a finger. Okay, I’m not sure if I would ever actually flip a middle at Jackson in real life … but I can do it in my mind. He winks at me as if he knows what’s going on in my mind … and I’m pretty sure he does, which makes me feel worse.
“I’m leaving.” Like the flip of a switch, his expression turns brisk and businesslike. “We need to talk.” He’s eyeballing his brother. I get the message loud and clear – he needs me to go.
“Eh … good luck on whatever you’re going to do.” He nods. I push my chin out and strut to the stairs, avoiding the sticky feeling between my legs. That shower sounds about right. I make it to the top of the stairs, curiosity getting the better of me, so I silently creep back to the middle, sitting down, straining to hear what’s going on. Don’t judge. In this group, if you don’t eavesdrop you’ll never know what’s going on. They’re more closed off than double-unbreakable titanium vaults.
“Pretty one you got there,” Jackson says flatly, “I like her. Try to not mess up.” Is he actually saying something good about me? Holy fucking shit. I just assumed he didn’t like me much.
“Not planning to.” Then after a beat, Enrique asks, “So, where are you going now?”
“Back to keeping watch over that ship they’re keeping the hostage on.” Not sure if it’s just me but Jackson seems to speaks with grave deliberation. “Please keep an eye on that little brat. My gut tells me that she’s gonna be a handful.” At these words his voice lowers. Softens. So the devil does have a heart after all. Maybe I got Jackson all wrong.
“You mean hostages … there’s two.” Eh, okay, I missed that. Not surprising since I miss a lot of things.
“Eh … it’s a bit scrambled. Don’t worry about THAT now.” He’s speaking in riddles. This man perfected the art of talking in loops. So who’s on the boat … Lee or Skye … or both?
“You do know that you can’t take a whole mafia group out on your own, don’t you?” My heart clenches … Enrique sounds truly worried about his twin. And why would he not be? Hell, even I’m worried about the stupid lunatic. If there’s one person that would likely get himself killed, it’s Jackson.
“I’m not.” Another frickin riddle answer – I hate that about him. Does this mean he’s not going to take on a whole mafia group … or he’s not going alone? My head starts to hurt. Jackson has that effect on me it seems. After a little bit he answers the question at least.
“I’m thinking of taking D-boy with me this time.” Okay, so he’s taking on the group … just not alone.
“He’s not here. And get this … Mel said he went to see his grandmother. But it’s a secret.” Enrique blows up that plan. No wonder I haven’t seen Noah much. He’s busy at Grimms. Gmf. I’m always the last to know stuff. It’s irritating.
“He has a granny?” Jackson sounds really surprised about that. Well, to be straight … I also didn’t know that. Why was he in foster care then?
“Apparently. Who knew.” Another quiet moment.
“If it’s such a secret, how does Mel know about it?”
“She overheard him talking to Damion. And you know our little sister can’t keep anything to herself.” They both let out a little chuckle.
“Is it only me, or is that man hiding stuff from us?” Jackson back to his serious self.
“What? You don’t trust Alejandro now?” Enrique stammers into a giddy laugh, but his brother answers calmly.
“At this stage, I’m not so sure about anything. While sitting idly on that boat, I dug a trench as big as the fucking Grand Canyon into the history of every Circle member I could find.” I slap a hand over my mouth, too scared to make a sound, but my heart spins out and presses against my ribs.
“So what did you learn?” Enrique’s voice is now shaking with forcible expectation. I lean forward. I need to hear this.
“A little here and there … they’re quite an interesting bunch. ” A typical Jackson answer. I swear in my head. A moment goes by. “I really need to go.”
“No, wait,” Enrique groans, “You got to explain. I need to know who the fuck I’m protecting these girls from.” I need to know too.
“Well, there’s still some missing pieces, but most of the evidence just points to Chloe and Amanda … and that red-shoe friend of theirs”
“Patsy. No fucking way.”
“Yeah, I know … they don’t have the brainpower to pull of such an elaborate scheme. They have enough money to hire experts to do the job though … but I think there’s someone missing. Whoever they are, they’re covering their tracks pretty well … ” Jackson says now more platonic. “You know the warehouse … it burned to the ground. Exploded just after we left. So did that restaurant Brian talked about.”
“Fuck!” I hold my breath. “So Amanda … ”
“Don’t think there’s a lot left of that bitch … maybe a tooth or two.” I swallow back the nauseating feeling pushing up my throat. Okay, I might be wrong … the devil clearly is heartless. Even though Amanda did a lot of bad things to us … she still was a person – who lost her life in a terrible manner. And now her family don’t even have a body to lay to rest. That must be awful.
“What about Jason? Wasn’t he Ren’s best friend before he became Darren?”
“I looked everywhere for that twit … he hasn’t been home in ages according to his little brother.” Jackson says placidly.
“And Chloe seems to be gone in the wind as well.” He definitely sounds tired. Hell, he only slept about an hour or so. And he might be crazy … and heartless … but he’s still human – I hope.
“Chloe was in the club last night … with Graham,” Enrique says hotly, “It seemed as if they were arguing about something.” Graham? The buffoon I hit over the head? And he’s friends with Chloe. Shit, I really don’t like him. Not at all.
“I don’t like the dude.” Jackson snarls as if reading my mind. Well, it won’t be the first time. “He’s always giving me the evil eye.” Do I detect a hint of laughter mixed between the husky ridges of his voice?
“Maybe because you broke his nose and ribs,” Enrique clucks with mocked politeness. I swear softly behind my hand, adrenaline increasing my already heightened pulse.
“He started it.” Jackson snares back. “Anyway, even if he’s part of their little team, I’m not convinced that he’s the main man. He doesn’t have the balls.”
“He could be. He’s clever enough. Got some kind of science degree. And his dad is fire chief, so he probably knows how to start fires and stuff,” Enrique rambles off in one breath.
“Maybe.” Jackson doesn’t sound convinced. My mind is still stuck on the-buildings-exploded fact. As if being hunted by an unknown enemy was not enough, now we also have to deal with bombs. My intestines cramp together. All this is just so insane, it doesn’t even sound real.
“What about the Italian dudes on the boat?”
“Yes, there’s them too. Ug, first I need to safe … eh … ” Jackson stops mid-sentence, then quickly continues, “Don’t worry, I’ll find out who’s behind all this. But I really have to go now.” There’s a patting sound, like skin slapping skin. Silence hangs in the air.
It’s my cue. I creep up the stairs and peep into the guest room to check on River. The room is semi-dark, a lamp on the bedside table providing some dull light. I look at the little bump under the covers, debating if I should switch of the light or not. I decide – not. It could wake her and I’d rather let sleeping angels lie. I silently close the door, and head into Damion’s room for that shower. Sport doesn’t join me.
Maybe it’s for the best. My thoughts are so jangled up, not even the warm water can untangle them. Are we going to see Jackson again? Or Lee? Or Skye? My tummy is tied in such knots I want to puke. I close the water. I’m gonna get dressed and run. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. I don’t want to be part of this sick war anymore.
Since my underwear is a little … eh … dirty, I walk into the huge cupboard. Luckily Mel already moved in with Damion, so I grab what I need. I’m sure she won’t mind.
When I get out he’s on the balcony, his elbows leaning on the balustrade, his eyes on the ocean, wind blowing through his hair. Now is the time to go. I join him. He doesn’t move.
The moon highlights the thin fog that gathered over the water, giving the ocean a somber feeling as the surf curl and cream, almost silently splashing against the rocks. There’s no sign of the colony of seagulls, the boulders are empty now – lonely dark patches in the less dark water. Fitting with my mood.
“Jackson is gone.” The world seems to melt away in the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves. A little light blobs up and down in the abyss of black salty water, occasionally disappearing from sight like a blinking eye. A ship. Like … the one … My gut wrenches again and I bite on my teeth. I think I’ve developed a fear of boats.
“Aria,” he still keeps his eyes on the indistinguishable horizon, only moving to weave his fingers together. I look down at the swimming pool below, brightly lit, clear as crystal, the water as blue as the prettiest cornflower. Mel jumped from here once. Naked. Or so she told me. Would I do that? Probably not. It’s not that I’m a coward … ’cause I’m not. I just tend to think all possible consequences. Mostly overthinking … I know. It started when my parents died.
“I’m sorry. I was an ass. I know that now.”
I lift a shoulder, tacitly agreeing with him. Yes, he was an ass … is. Is an ass.
“But I was scared … I still am.” His confession rattles me.
“Scared that something might happen to me,” my voice comes out strangled with emotion, “Or scared of your own feelings?”
“Both.” He looks down at his hands. I think about that for a moment.
“I can understand that. Hell, I’m scared too.” Time to be honest I’m thinking. “What I can’t understand is that you moved on so fast.” Now he turns his head, his eyes shadowed in the dark.
“What do you mean?” He sounds truly baffled.
“Well, it took you just a few hours after I left your bed to find a new screw-buddy.” I try to keep the jealous predatory expression off my face, but my words clearly are strained. “Your escapades this week was all over the news.” And it killed me. Every time.
“Nothing happened.” I can’t see his face, but his breathing becomes thin. “It was all for show.” My eyes snap to his as my heart misses a few ticks. Show? Breathlessly I wait for him to explain, not able to speak right now. “I invited the paparazzi into the VIP area, making sure they photographed me with each slutty bimbo that came to buy a drink.”
“Maybe it was dumb,” he pulls up his shoulders, “But I thought that if our enemy thinks I’m screwing around, they would leave you alone.” That’s actually not that stupid. I open my mouth to tell him that, but he takes a deep breath and continues, “And … ” I frown. There’s more? His voice dips. “And I saw you with Brian … so … ” he turns his face away towards the ocean again. “I was jealous and wanted to make you a little jealous too.” Now that is dumb. He pulls his lips together. I grab onto the railing. My stomach contracts into a tight ball. I forget to breathe. My heart stumbles over it’s own rhythm, slows, then flutters into my throat.
He came to the hospital. The realization hits me. He must have. It’s the only place Brian and I met. He didn’t leave me alone. He’s jealous. It means he cares.
“I think it might have worked.”
“Yeah?” He sounds way to cheerful. He turns his whole body towards me. “Uh, how about I go check if the little one is still sleeping … then we can do something together … in bed.” I play along. Moving closer I slip my palms onto his chest.
“Sounds like a plan.” I move my finger over his hard chest and watch his pupils dilate. “I’m dying to rewatch all the After movies.” His body shivers under my hands and I crack a sly little smile.
He sighs and walks away, mumbling to himself, “Not what I had in mind.” Oh, I know exactly what’s on his mind. The same as on mine. But a little begging might just bring that oversized ego back to earth. I walk into the room and switch on the TV.
“Aria!” he yells, “River is gone!” He runs into the room clutching a pillow, his face looking as if he just stepped in dog shit. “Little devil put this pillow under the covers.”