How May I Please You (The Darkest Kink #2) (The Darkest Kink Duet)

Chapter 19

chapter

nineteen

I get homefrom work before Journey does, which is typical. What isn’t normal is the heavy feeling in my stomach. There is a weight inside of me, pulling me down into a place I don”t think I’ve ever been when it comes to my Little Devil. The weight feels a lot like a giant seed of doubt that has sprouted and is growing up my throat, only inches away from spewing out my mouth and showing itself to Journey, and she is the one who placed it there.

I don”t remember hearing the phone ring the night Captain Saunders called and told Journey to investigate a robbery. I was asleep, but I don”t sleep heavily. Murdering people and burying bodies in your backyard tends to bring heightened anxiety and insomnia to your doorstep. In the past, I have woken up every time Journey has received a late call for her job. Her ringtone is one of the most annoying sounds I’ve ever heard in my life, but somehow my restless brain ignored it this time. All I know is that she told me she was leaving to investigate a robbery and that it wouldn”t take long to get the victim’s statement. Right then—the second she walked out the door—the seed of doubt was planted.

The morning after her robbery investigation, Journey gets a call that I do hear. I’m standing right next to her when Captain Saunders tells her about the fire set to Andrea’s Diner, and I hear him assign her to it, even telling her to make it a priority. What do I not hear? Saunders telling her to drop the robbery investigation. He doesn”t mention it at all. He never tells her to let it go and that it will be assigned to someone else. Nothing.

I love my Little Devil more than anything in this galaxy, but that doesn”t make any sense. What the fuck are you up to, Beautiful?

I saw the way she hurried her way through breakfast: nearly spilling orange juice on herself as she tossed her head back to gulp it down, jamming the fork into her mouth to shove all of her food in before the previous forkful could fall out. She was all over the place—totally out of character and I don”t know why.

I put someone beneath the dirt before I ever met Journey. I didn”t do it on purpose. It was the beast in me that reached out and took what it wanted. It wasn”t until I met Journey that I learned I am not the person running from the beast. I am him. Journey allowed me to be myself, and it resulted in putting a couple more people under the ground to protect us. To this day, I have no regrets about what happened to Winter or Cain. I would gladly do it again for my Little Devil, which is why I don”t understand why there seems to be a veil of secrecy shrouding her actions now. She knows I would brutalize anyone for her. There isn”t anything she couldn”t tell me.

So why didn”t I hear the phone ring?

Why didn”t Saunders mention the robbery investigation?

Why did she sprint out of the house after choking herself on breakfast?

The garage door goes up just as I’m settling onto the couch with a cold beer. My scent is a combination of lavender and mint after a hot shower that relaxed every part of me except my overthinking brain. I pick up the remote and turn on the TV just as the door opens and Journey walks inside.

My heart hammers just from the sight of her. It’s as if our time apart was eons instead of mere hours, and the Dom in me wants to hug her, kiss her, and force her to her knees all at once. But I know she’s tired from work. I can see it on her face—the way her smile is weary from faking it all day. Her shoulders slump as she walks, and the light in her eyes is dim like a star so distant it is barely visible to the naked eye. My Little One is exhausted, so I choose not to bombard her with questions right now, because what she needs from me at this moment is love and affection after a hard day’s work.

“Welcome home, Baby Girl,” I greet her as she enters and puts away her keys.

Journey comes into the living room, places her gun and badge on the coffee table, and drops to her knees. She crawls over to me and places her head in my lap, closing her eyes as if she doesn”t want to see anymore of the day. I sigh as I run my fingers through the hair of my perfect submissive—my one and only.

“Rough day?” I ask, ignoring the TV and seeing only her.

She lets out a long exhale before answering, “I wouldn”t call it rough. Just long. I missed you.”

I smirk, my heart reacting to her words. “I missed you, too, Little One.”

“You smell good,” she says, taking in a big breath.

“Just got out of the shower.”

“I need one but I’m too exhausted to get up from this spot.”

Chuckling, I reach down and take her by the hand as I stand. “Come with me.”

I lead Journey into the bedroom, where I sit her down on the mattress to wait while I start the shower. As it heats up, I go back to her and begin unfastening her buttons, pulling off her shirt before dropping to my knees to remove her shoes, socks, and pants. My eyes instinctively glance at her pussy when I slide off her panties, but I maintain control over my urges like a good Dom should. Once she’s undressed, I guide her to the shower, but before helping her inside, I remove my clothes, dropping them at my feet.

“I thought you said you just had a shower,” Journey says.

“I did. I’m not washing myself. I’m washing you. Now get in.”

With a quick bite of her lip that she tries to hide, Journey steps into the shower and plunges her head beneath the water. I follow her, and as she wets her face, I grab her loofah and drizzle it with body wash before placing it on her back. I slowly move the loofah around on her skin, licking my lips as I clean every crevice on her backside. When she turns to face me, I do the same thing, coating every inch of her with suds until she relaxes and steps back into the water, her stress spiraling down the drain with the soap.

Once she’s all cleaned off, Journey glances down at my aroused cock and licks her lips. I’m not surprised. There has never been a time where she and I could shower together and not play afterward, but when she reaches for me this time, I politely push her hand away.

“No. Not now,” I tell her. “Just let me take care of you, Little One.”

She nods as she says, “Yes, Sir,” but her eyes stay glued to my cock.

I smile as I help her out of the shower and into the bedroom, where I wrap her in a towel while using another to dry her off. I go over each limb before repeating the process with her lotion, then I climb onto the bed behind her and pull us all the way back until we reach the headboard. With Journey comfortably between my legs, we lean back and I brush her hair for her.

“Why are you so good to me?” she asks.

“Because you”re mine,” I answer, continuing to run the brush through her wet hair.

I take my time, brushing slowly to give her enough time to unwind completely from her day. After a few moments of silence, I finally say what has been waiting impatiently in the background since the moment she walked in.

“Tell me about your day,” I say. “How did the fire investigation go with Andrea’s?”

Journey clears her throat and sits up straight, whatever she’s about to say requiring a straight back and hardihood.

Almost as if it’s rehearsed. I wear a mask every day, Little One. I can recognize the signs.

“Everything went fine,” she begins. “Summers and I took a little trip to Chad Swanson’s house in Fairmont and talked to him and his parents. The kid is definitely a little troublemaker.”

I keep stroking her hair. “I’m sure he is. But did he start the fire?”

“It’s hard to say right now. He has a weak alibi, so … he’ll be the one.”

I pinch my lips together, taking a second to build up to it because I know there’s a chance she’ll be offended. But I have to ask her outright. Fuck all of this beating around the bush.

“Journey … did you set the diner on fire?”

After being completely loose and relaxed, the muscles in her neck and shoulders turn to stone.

“What? Of course not,” she answers quickly—confidently. “What would make you think that?”

I set the brush down on the nightstand and wrap my arms around her so that she knows I’m not judging her, but my brow furrows.

“I know that kid offended you,” I respond. “I know you were pissed about the way he talked to you, and I know that if he were an adult, he’d either be missing body parts or face down somewhere secluded because I would”ve handled it. But he was a kid—a teenager that I chose not to hurt because he was having a rough day. It’s okay if that bothers you. I just want you to know that you can tell me anything, Journey. I’ve always got your back. You and I have wreaked havoc before, and I would wreak it with you again, even if I disagree with your decision. You come first. You”re above everybody on this god forsaken planet to me. So if you did it, just tell me and we’ll deal with it together. Did you do it?”

Journey lets seconds that feel like hours pass by before finally replying, “Evan, I didn”t burn down the diner.”

She’s fucking lying.

But she has no reason to lie. I’ve given her every out I can, so when she says she didn”t do it, I try to believe her. What other choice do I have? We stay in our cuddled position against the headboard for a while, my arms swaddling her as I nuzzle her neck and kiss her shoulders, the voice in my head telling me not to give in so easily. But it’s Journey. I love her. I trust her. If I don”t, then she’s no different than the rest of the people in the world. People I would gladly gut for lying to me.

I try to drown the seed of doubt, dousing it with hope and trust, but even as we move from the bed into the kitchen for dinner, the voice is still there, louder than it has been in months.

She”s lying to you. Do not take this lying down. She. Is. Lying.

I can’t shake it even as we eat together, and it’s with me when it’s bedtime and we cuddle again to go to sleep.

I don”t know why, but I feel like there is a hidden treasure chest inside of Journey that she hides from the entire world—including me—and inside is a trove of secrets.