Flirting With Chaos (34 page)
Read Flirting With Chaos Online
Authors: Kenya Wright
I raised my head. He slipped his hand around and grabbed my breast. Sparks of desire lit everywhere he touched. I rested my head on his arm, and he stroked me with those succulent fingers.
God, this feels so good.
He slid his other hand around my hip and captured my hungry clit. “You’ll never know another man’s cock in you, will you?”
“No.” I drowned in wet, heated passion.
“I’ll earn your love, Rainy. I promise.”
“You already have it.” I gasped.
So many pleasures hit me at once: my nipple ached as he squeezed and gently twisted it; my wet clit glided through his fingers as he massaged the bud over and over; his cock pounded into me, stretching me wide open as his body slapped against my ass.
Dear God, how can he concentrate on so many things at once?
Pleasure, so pure and hot, sliced me open bit by fucking bit. I couldn’t breathe or see, couldn’t think or speak coherent words. My whole body was an instrument that he strummed and played to his own tune. I couldn’t even move. Rapturous sensations surrounded me as I screamed in delight.
“Someone touches this, and I’ll hurt them.” He groaned and rocked his hard cock into me. “No clinic will cure me of that. Ever.”
He tenderly bit my shoulder and grunted. An orgasm spun around in my gut, spread out to my pussy, rolling and tumbling, heating up my flesh and bursting out of me. Slapping noises shifted to sloshing as I soaked his cock and came so hard my body spasmed.
“Oh, Jude!”
“Yes, baby. Whose dick is in you?”
“Yours.”
“Will there ever be anyone else?” He pushed into me hard.
“Never!”
“Damn it. There’s never any control when I’m with you.” He released my breast, quickly put both hands on my hips, and pounded into me like a madman. “Fuck, Rainy. Take. This. Dick.”
“Yes!” I cried. Tears streamed down my face. The best tears. The ones I had always wanted to experience. The ones that screamed that life wasn’t all that bad, wasn’t all dark, that there was good if I just took the time to feel it.
“I love you, Rain.” Jude stayed inside of me and shuddered against my back. “Let’s make sure we make this work.”
“Can we?”
“We’re not our parents.”
“No?”
“Never.” He pulled out, gently rolled me on my back, and seized my lips. “Never. We’re so much more, baby.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I do know that sometimes when you love someone, it’s okay to change and try to make yourself better.”
And I agreed.
Epilogue
Jude’s Birth Weekend
“W
HY
D
O
Y
OU
T
HINK
you pretended that your mother was alive?” Dr. Johnson crossed her legs and peered at me from under her glasses.
“I think I liked imagining that I had saved her, instead of the truth.”
“What’s the truth?”
I shut my eyes. “I let her die.”
“Did you?”
“It feels like that sometimes.” I opened my eyes and picked at the red sequins on the front of my shirt. They were formed into a huge apple that had been bitten. Everyone wore a shirt like this now that “Apple” topped the music charts.
Even though Jude had beaten him up, Maestro, being a true insane musician, had begged to be featured on the song. Jude had allowed it, although he couldn’t leave the clinic to go to the studio while Maestro laid down the lyrics. Either way, their remix of “Apple” was number two on the charts, right under the original.
“Why do you feel like you let your mother die?” Dr. Johnson never gave me a break. She just attacked me with questions that made me think, and never provided any real answers.
Isn’t the point of this counseling crap to come into her office, sit down, open my skull, let her rummage around in it, and poof, I’m all fixed?
“I had seen the signs that Dad was crazy, abusive, and a drug addict. I knew that he would never get better. I guess I just hoped he would.”
“You were a teenager. Don’t you think your mother spotted the same signs and realized the same things? She was more experienced in life than you. Don’t you think she saw the signs too?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she could have taken you both away from your father?”
I kept my mouth closed and hated this line of questioning. “I know what you’re doing. You’re blaming her for dying.”
“No, I’m not. But I do want you to consider this question: did your mom have a role in her own death?”
I sighed. It must’ve taken me five minutes to come up with the answer, but in the end, I admitted, “Yes.”
Dr. Johnson smiled that annoying, knowing smile. “I see you’re not wearing the blue contacts today.”
“I threw them away. I thought wearing them was stupid.”
“Why?”
Everything is a question with this woman.
“I’ve tried to remember if Mom ever told me to wear them or ever said she hated the color of my eyes. I’m still trying to figure out what are actual memories and what was the stuff I put in my head. I knew she hated her skin and eye color. Maybe I just thought she hated mine too.”
Dr. Johnson knitted her fingers together. “I think we’re done for today.”
Booming sounded at the door. “Rainy, come on, baby. It’s our first weekend of freedom.”
God, I’ve missed my Jude.
I grinned and stood up, ready to finally see him after three months. The doctors had believed we were too emotionally dependent on each other and that we needed to learn how to heal separately first. We could only write to each other. I had boxes of poetry and letters from him. After three months, all of our counselors and doctors approved us for a weekend together away from the facility.
Dr. Johnson’s smile left her face. “I would like you to call me if you start seeing visions again. Continue to take your pills, and no drugs.”
“Never.”
“Even marijuana.”
I gritted my teeth. “It was planted on earth by God. I’m just saying.”
“Nevertheless, let’s stay away from God’s earthly gifts this weekend.”
Wow. Did she make a little joke? I may be able to save her sense of humor after all.
“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday.” I rushed out of there and opened the door.
Before I could take one step, Jude enveloped me in huge, muscular arms. He was so much bigger. He’d written in his letters to me that he’d been working out, but I had no idea he’d been training as if he was trying to be a body builder.
“I missed you so much.” He rubbed his face against mine. His short beard scratched my cheek. “You look so fucking good. I might take you on the helicopter.”
“Helicopter?” Dr. Johnson came out into the hallway. “Mr. Everett, we said nothing about flying away from the city.”
“It’s my birth weekend.” Jude kissed me.
I leaned away and battled to catch my breath. I forgot how much he could consume me in seconds. “I’m sorry. Jude’s right. It’s his birth weekend. I’ve planned twenty-three surprises for him. We’ll need the helicopter for a few of them.”
Dr. Johnson shook her head. “I don’t remember approving this. I’m going to need to know what these surprises involve and what—”
“Don’t worry, ma’am.” T-Bone strolled down the hallway, taking up most of the space and dressed in a priest’s outfit. I’d told him to look responsible, not come as a goddamn holy servant of God. “I’ve been designated as their chaperone for the evening. Here’s the papers. Everything was authorized by both of their lawyers months ago.”
She looked him up and down. “Are you a priest?”
T-Bone placed white glasses with gold crosses on his face. “No. Of course not. It’s Halloween weekend, baby. What are you doing later tonight?”
I covered my face in embarrassment. “Okay. Let’s go before you both just get us in trouble. Don’t worry, doc. We’ll be fine. We’ve survived a whole lot of shit. We can survive forty-eight hours in South Beach.”
“South Beach?” Her shocked face reddened. “I only approved a fifty mile radius.”
I hit my head. “Yes. I meant Toronto.”
She tossed me a skeptical look.
Jude winked at her and dragged me off before I could say any more. “Let’s go.”
We rushed down the hallways. Everything glowed white and clean. I think that’s what I loved about the place the most. It shined so clean. No blood anywhere. I hadn’t seen any since that day in the hotel. I hoped to never see any again.
“You have no idea how many times I masturbated to you moaning on ‘Apple.’ My iPod is disgusted with me.” He lifted me up and carried me through the doors.
“You think that’s bad? I sculpted your penis and then tried to put it inside of me. It got stuck. After an hour, I was forced to call a nurse to help me get it out.”
T-Bone’s face scrunched up in horror. “Lord knows you both really needed to be in here.”
I laughed, faced Jude, and tensed. His gaze bore into me, causing me to shiver.
“I love you,” he said. “I could never have been saved without you.”
“I agree. I love you too.”
And so we left Toronto, against the wishes of our facility, to party at South Beach. But, not the usual way we used to storm through the city. No drugs or groupies. No hysteria or guilt. We made love in the sand, among lit candles, listening to a blindfolded orchestra, and with chocolate covered fruits dripping in our fingers. We made love until the sun set and then rose again. I licked places I’d never thought existed, and he devoured me whole.
We learned a new way to consume each other, without the need for any drug or conflict. We smothered each other in kisses and dreams of our future and poetic wishes that ended in moans. Our addictions shifted to our obsession with
us
.
And on the next day, we trick-or-treated as Bonnie and Clyde.
Acknowledgments
To my huge group of Beta Readers: Jacqulene Sheats, Megan Martin, D.T.Dyllin, Tiffany Patterson, Kirtrina Baxter, Tamara Porche.
Lots of love to my agent Jewelann Cone who helped put together the great deal with Elizabeth Harper of Omnific Publishing.
About the Author
Kenya Wright always knew she would be famous since the ripe old age of six when she sang Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” in her bathroom mirror. She’s tried her hand at many things from enlisting in the Navy for six years as a Persian-Farsi linguist to being a nude model at an art university.
However, writing has been the only constant love in her life. Will she succeed? Of course.
For she has been coined The Urban Fantasy Queen, the Super Iconic Writer of this Age, The Lyrical Genius of Our Generation. Granted, these are all terms coined by her, within the private walls of her bathroom as she still sings “Thriller.”
Kenya Wright currently resides in Miami with her three amazing, overactive children, a supportive, gorgeous husband, and three cool black cats that refuse to stop sleeping on Kenya’s head at night.
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