Staying Dirty (5 page)

I don’t recall ever taking my time on a man’s body like this, loving every inch of him with my own body. My movements are languid. I have no desire to rush. If I could draw this out for the rest of the day, I would. The only thing stopping me is the aching between my legs, growing more uncomfortable with each of Link’s pleased groans.

I slide down until my mouth is hovering over his erection. I let my breath caress the head as I lick my lips in anticipation. And then I meet Link’s eyes as I lick him from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. He fists his hands into my thick locks, tugging just enough to make me cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hisses between his teeth. His heated gaze rakes over me before pausing on my mouth. It’s clear what he wants. And I want to give it to him. I want to be the one that makes him feel good today. Tomorrow. And every day after.

I wrap my lips around his cock and take him into my mouth. His hips buck once, driving him deeper. I hum my approval eliciting a panted breath to burst from his lips.

Keeping the pace deliberately unhurried, I glide up and down, indulging in my desire to gratify him.

Link pushes loose strands of my hair back, making sure nothing obstructs his view as he watches attentively, enthralled by the way my mouth craves him. I skim my fingertips over his stomach, bumping along his six-pack, and then back down to knead the firm muscles in his thighs.

His cock thickens in my mouth and I know he’s close. But I’m not ready for this to be over yet. I pull back, wiping the moisture from my chin, and crawl over top of him once again.

There are so many things I want to say to him. But I still don’t know how to translate my feelings into words, so I show him instead. I press my lips to his hungrily, expressing how much I want him, need him, care for him.

I reach behind me, stroking his length as I devour his mouth. He murmurs approvingly, raising his ass off of the bed, pushing into my hand.

My body is on fire, craving more and more from this man. I guide him inside of me, taking him all the way in until he’s stretching and filling me, and then I begin to move against him. His hands grind against my skin as he drags them down to my hips, encouraging me to go faster.

I refuse, insisting on the tortuously leisured pace I’ve set from the very beginning. Now that he’s easing the ache, I’m going to stretch this out as long as I possibly can.

With a growl, Link grips my ass, his fingers piercing into my flesh as he directs me up and down his length.

“You feel so good,” he husks. “So fucking good, Rocky.”

The way my name rolls off his tongue makes my muscles quiver. I kiss him again, unable to fight against my addiction. Our tongues glide against one another, teeth nipping, lips growing numb. One by one, Link slides my feet on top of his thighs, running his fingers over the arches as our kiss morphs into something almost animalistic. I naturally flex my hips faster, dropping myself down harder. I want him deeper.

As if sensing exactly what I need, Link rolls us, taking over. He heaves me right up against him so that my ass is pressed tightly against his legs, and he drives into me. His hand cups my breast, squeezing hard, and he lowers his mouth to my nipple, sucking relentlessly.

My eyes fall closed as I feel my orgasm taking hold of me. I’m so close to bliss. My heart is racing, my muscles tightening in eagerness of what’s soon to come.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you’re about to come.”

I blink up at him to find him watching me, his gaze flicking over my face, trying to take in as much as he can. His eyes are that steely grey, no color and every color all at once. I love his eyes so much. They pin me in place to this very second—the second I realize I may love more than his beautiful features.

I knew it was possible this day would come. I just didn’t think it would come so soon. I don’t know how to protect myself. Once you give your heart to someone, it’s theirs to do with as they please.

My fingers tremble as I place my hand over his heart. Over Olivia’s name, branded into his skin. This is hers, but I want it to be mine.

His eyes drop to his chest, his movement slowing. His hand shells mine, the muscles taught, strained. I see the pain in his eyes, but I have no idea what it means. Is it because he knows his heart will never belong to me? Is it just because he simply misses her?

I don’t want to know. I’m not strong enough.

His eyes shift back to meet mine. He pulls my hand off of his chest, turning it so he can place a kiss into my palm. And then he brings his mouth to mine.

“Time, Rocky,” he whispers against my lips. “I just need time.”

I shudder, forcing a nod. He kisses me again, his tongue slipping between my lips and seeking out mine. I’ll give him whatever he needs for as long as he lets me.

Nine

Link

I wake to my phone buzzing across the nightstand. Rocky’s head rests on my chest, her hair a silky blanket. I smile, sliding my hand over her soft locks, savoring the texture against my skin. And I know I want to continue to wake up this same way every day.

My cell buzzes again and I scoop it up, careful not to wake Rocky from her peaceful sleep. She doesn’t get many of those.

A shot of adrenaline spikes my blood when I make out the name on the caller ID.

Anthony.

I glance at the clock, realizing it’s just past one in the morning and I know what this call must mean. I don’t think he’d contact me at this hour—or at all—unless it has something to do with Bates.

“Yeah?” I rasp, my throat thick with sleep, my tone clipped with the repulsion I still feel toward both of the men.

“Carter’s at my door,” he says quietly. “He’s never come by this late. He knows. He has to know Bethany isn’t here. And if he knows she isn’t here, he probably suspects why. Get here now.”

The call ends with that, and I freeze up, staring at the phone in my hand. Four years of waiting ends right now. It’s finally here, everything I’ve been working toward.

I slide out from under Rocky, guiding her head to the pillow. She snuggles into the blanket. I hold my breath, watching her for a moment. So much has changed for me recently and she’s the cause. There’s a part of me that honestly believes I might be able to finally move on after I finish this tonight. I brush the hair from her face and place a light kiss to her forehead.

As I dress quickly, I consider leaving Rocky a note, letting her know where I’m going, but dismiss the idea immediately. It’s better—safer—for her not to know.

Making sure I have the knife I’ve carried with me daily for so long now, tucked into my front pocket for easy access, I hurry out the door.

***

Anthony’s house is dark when I pull up front. There isn’t a single window illuminated and this is the first hint that something is amiss. My first instinct is they’re waiting in there, together, to take me down. And once they’ve done that, they’ll go after Rocky, silencing all witnesses.

I sit inside my car for much too long, trying to plan accordingly. I review the basics of self-defense, envisioning the most lethal attacks, playing them out in my mind. It’s going to be tricky to take down two, especially if they’re hiding, laying in wait. I run through the layout of Anthony’s house, reminding myself of any ideal places they can conceal themselves.

I remove the knife from my pocket, flipping the blade open, and head for the door.

When I step onto the small porch area, I notice the door is slightly ajar. This is definitely wrong. Alarm bells sound inside my head, now for a new reason. I push the door open slowly, letting my fingers slide against the wood. I brace myself, ready for anything.

I stand just inside, giving my eyes time to adjust to the darkness. The living room is empty, nothing seeming out of place, so I move into the hallway. I glance toward the bedrooms, all the doors that way standing open. I pivot on my heel, moving quietly into the kitchen. And then I hear it.

The low, guttural sound of a man wheezing, fighting for air.

Bare feet extend from the other side of the counter. As I round the island, my heart is pounding against my ribcage. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know if it’s a trap. I don’t know if someone is acting as a decoy while someone else waits to pounce.

Anthony holds a kitchen towel to the middle of his stomach. I honestly cannot tell what color the towel originally was—it’s now filled with Anthony’s blood. He raises his hand, reaching for me with trembling, red-stained fingers.

“Where is he?” I murmur, readying the blade in my fisted hand.

Anthony opens his mouth, uttering incoherently. I step closer, trying to understand him.

“Please,” he croaks.

“Where is Bates?”

“You promised.” His eyes flutter as if he’s losing the battle to hold them open. “You promised Bethany…” His eyes close again, longer this time.

The only promise I care about in this moment is the one I made when I swore to protect Rocky. To keep her from knowing the same fate as Livie.

“Tell me how to find him, Anthony,” I hiss.

The hand, still stretched out toward me shifts slightly, his finger extending. I turn quickly, expecting to find Bates behind me, but the room is still empty. And then I see it. A small pink pair of woman’s panties, hanging from the doorknob to the back entrance.

It takes me a second to comprehend, but then I recall Rocky, her hair soapy in the shower, telling me about the memento Bates kept after she met him at the bar. The fact that they’re now hanging from the backdoor, waiting for me to find them, is a clear message.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

Bates has been playing with me this whole time, controlling me like a puppet. He set me up and I walked right into it.

It’s happening again.

He’s going to kill her.

He’s going to kill her and I’m not there to protect her.

“Help me,” Anthony gasps.

I want to leave him bleeding to death on his kitchen floor, but I don’t even consider it. I snatch the cordless phone off the wall and toss it to him.

“Tell the police who did this and send them to my house.”

Ten

Rocky

The hallway is empty. Deserted. My shoes squeak against the shiny linoleum as I hurry toward the muffled voices of two hundred of my fellow students. I duck into the locker room to straighten my messy hair and wash the dried paint from my hands.

Muted cheers erupt as I push the door open and head for the gymnasium. I peer through the small window separating me from the rest of my class. I’m so late. I should be in there, cheering my peppy ass off.

Hands skim along my hips before gripping my waist. I’m tugged back against a hard chest. I gasp, surprised. I try to turn, but the grip on my hips tightens. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.

I try to pull away again, struggling to free myself.

I shoot upward, panting, as I slide my hand across the bed in search of Link’s warm comfort. After a bad dream, just the feel of his skin is enough to calm me.

The bed is empty. Cold.

Lonely.

Securing the sheet around my body, I shuffle sleepily toward the door. This isn’t the first time I awoke alone in his bed, but I need him right now. This nightmare wasn’t as bad as usual—they seem to be getting better each day—however, the thought of pressing myself into Link’s solid chest is too tempting to resist.

I open the door and peer down the hall, a little surprised to find it dark. Usually I can follow the flickering blue light of the TV or the pale white glow of his laptop. I keep my hand on the wall to ensure I don’t run into anything.

I catch his form passing in front of the window from the corner of my eye. I smile, moving toward him instantly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I murmur, stopping in front of him. He doesn’t answer me and I reach for him like an addict needing her fix. Just one touch will set me right, make me feel normal again. My fingers meet the soft material of a t-shirt, and then the toned, wiry frame underneath.

Not Link’s thick, muscular structure. Not the body I take comfort from.

The scent hits me then. Something musky and smoky. Not the inviting crisp scent I’ve come to adore.

Not Link’s soothing scent.

I suck in a startled breath, a shiver of panic rocking my body. My feet stumble over the sheet as I try to backtrack. I trip, falling to my hands and knees, but I don’t stop. My fear keeps me moving, crawling along the floor, desperate to get away.

He grabs a handful of my hair, yanking, and halting the little progress I was able to make. I reach back blindly, trying to pry myself loose. My hands wrap around his wrists futilely.

“Settle down, Cowgirl. The more you fight, the more it turns me on. I don’t have time to play with you right now. Your boyfriend’s gonna be back soon.”

No.

NO.

Link’s not here?

Where is he?

Tears fill my eyes, spilling over quickly and sliding down my cheeks in hot trails. Because I’m alone. Because I can’t survive this again. Because I can only imagine what Bates is going to do to me.

I whimper, choking on my terror.

He jerks my head back as his other hand skates down my stomach. He slips under the sheet, his fingers sliding lower until he’s cupping my most intimate place. I freeze, willing my limbs to move—to fight—as he caresses me. Just as I think I can’t take another second, he drops his hand.

“You smell like sex,” he whispers into my ear. His breath is hot and moist against my skin, causing me to shudder with loathing and disgust. He lifts his hand, inhaling deeply, and sighing as if savoring my scent.

Bile rises in my throat.

“What do you think he’ll do when he realizes you’re gone?”

The small black and white photo of Olivia in the newspaper flashes in my head like a beacon. Bates is going to do to me exactly what he did to her. And Link—God, Link—he’s going to have another woman ripped from his life. Just hours after he told me he was beginning to see a future with me.