Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Selkie
No one has ever accused me of having a sense of timing. After Eight rocks my world, as I return to my senses, I realize what just happened was a terrible mistake. I’ve fallen in love with this guy and already, the hurt of losing him replaces the fantastic orgasm I just had.
“This can’t happen again,” I say.
He stiffens and not in a good way, then catapults himself off me. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“You heard.” I sit up and take stock. Bra still on, T-shirt ripped but not so bad I can’t pin it ‘til I get home. Panties and jeans on the floor, which I reach for.
“Bullshit,” he barks as his strong hands circle my biceps and propel me up the mattress until he slams me against the headboard.
“Ow,” I yell as my head bounce off it. “What the fuck?”
He straddles me. “This is gonna happen again. And again. And again. And you’re gonna stick around after. What happened between us wasn’t just a way to pass time. We are in a fucking relationship and that’s the end of it.”
I shove at his chest, half-pissed, but 2/3 thrilled at what he’s saying. The undercurrent of his tone speaks to his commitment. I’ve just fucked a man who’s telling me he wants me despite all that I am: hot mess, mouthy, screwed up, loads of baggage.
“I’ve heard that before but turns out it’s temporary insanity.” I’m trying not to get turned on by his still-erect cock pressing against my belly. His hard thighs straddling me. His huge hands gripping my hair as he glares at me.
“That’s bullshit. You’re gonna walk away after this? When you haven’t given us a chance?”
Grief of missing out, of what I’ll eventually lose, chokes me up. “I can’t do this, Eight. I have Henri to think of. She needs stability, not some guy that comes, makes promises, then bails.”
He sees through me. “So Henri’s the only reason? That’s fuckin’ bullshit.”
I nod, then shake my head. “Guys break up with me eventually. It hurts. And you, when you walk away, it’ll break my heart.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “I thought you were a risk-taker.”
“No. Not where my heart is concerned. Not where Henri’s concerned.”
The shift of air as he slides off me and presses himself against the headboard makes me want to cry. He’s separated our bodies by a foot and I feel betrayal that I shouldn’t, which is why the end of this relationship is going to destroy me.
Then he grips my hand, laces his fingers through mine, shifts so he’s facing me.
“You’re mine, Selkie. You’re not fuckin’ walking away from me.
You’re unapologetic, nothing but the real deal.
You say what’s on your mind, do what you want without thinking of the consequences.
You drive me bat-shit crazy. Which is why I can’t be without you.
You’ve made me feel alive for the first time in a decade, maybe forever. ”
Shit. I can’t stem the flow of tears, but truly, no man has ever said anything like that to me before in my life. With any other guy, they act like they’re doing me a favor, but Eight is looking at me like I’m betraying him.
I take a deep breath as I swipe at my face.
“I believe you.” And I do because Eight isn’t a smooth talker.
He doesn’t know how to flirt or pretend.
If he says something, he truly means it.
“But all men walk away from me eventually. They get tired of who I am. Can’t handle Henri, can’t handle that I choose her over them. ”
“They’re fuckers,” he says dismissively. “This,” he waves his hand between us. “Would never have happened if you didn’t turn mama bear on me in Mrs. Summer’s office.”
“I’m not the best mom in the world,” I interrupt because I’m also not a liar. “But at the end of the day, Henri is my life.”
He snorts a laugh. “Oscar is mine. I’m not doin’ this lightly, Selkie. My heart hasn’t got involved with another woman since Chloe died. You’re the first. You get me?”
I nod and because his words affect me so deeply, I start to cry again. He reaches over and catches a tear with his thumb, then kisses it. “And I doubt you’ve cried in front of any of the men in your life.”
“I haven’t,” I choke.
“Because this matters and you feel safe with me.”
My mouth is dry as I say words I’ve never said before. “If we do this, it has to last. At least until Oscar and Henri are grown up.”
He shakes his head as he sits back against the headboard again. “You are so fuckin’ feeble, Fleming. Already putting a timeline on us. But I can live with those terms because we’re gonna grow old together whether you believe it or not.”
“Does that mean we love each other?” I say, embarrassment seeping through me at how needy I sound.
“Fuck that. We know we love each other.” He grabs my arms and pulls me onto his lap, so I’m straddling his thighs. “We’re not gonna seal the deal with words.”
Eight shoves his cock inside me and I squirm to take it all.
Part of me is scared as hell, the other part is excited that I’m the only one from this day forward who gets to feel his big cock inside me.
I know this without a doubt, because he’s Eight and he will keep his vows to me. That’s who he is.
After I’ve ridden him like a jaguar in heat, after two more orgasms for me and one more from him, I lay in his arms which are tightly wrapped around me.
We’re fully naked by now, sweaty from the workout, need showers, but neither of us has the energy to move.
Also, I don’t want him to ever stop touching me.
“You want to talk about Chloe?” I ask as I tease the hair on his chest.
Silence makes me wish I’d kept my mouth shut, but my baggage fits in a backpack compared to his. I need to know everything about him so I can understand him better. Me, I’m pretty much an open book, but he keeps everything inside him.
Finally, he starts talking.
“Chloe and I met when we were in care. Placed in the same home. We were still kids, 17 years old.” I feel his heart pound harder and lay my ear on it. I want to share his pain, lighten the load for him.
“We hooked up, took off. The state didn’t give a shit, which was fine with us.
No lookin’ over our shoulders. My older brother, Liam, took us in.
He had a harder time then me in the system.
Ended up on the streets for a while, then bought a shithole house when he started making money by selling drugs.
Made a lot of enemies. Eventually, went down for first degree murder. Died in the joint. Killed.”
I don’t interrupt. This is part of his history and I want to hear it all.
“Chloe and I stayed in the house…”
“This house?”
“No,” he replies, the rumble deep in his chest. “Liam’s. He sold it while he was in prison and gave us the money because he was never getting out. After Chloe got pregnant, we got married. Got a place of our own.” He looks at me. “This house.”
I take a breath as I try to unravel my emotions. This was Chloe’s house first. I feel like an interloper.
He guesses how I’m feeling. “I loved her, Selkie. We were kids having a kid of our own, but she was special. Like you are, but different. Growing up in care fucks with you no matter how great the foster parents are. I had good ones for the most part. So did Chloe. You hear the shit that happens, but it’s not like that for everyone. ”
I don’t ask him why he and Chloe were in care. A conversation for a different day.
“I’m glad she was part your of life. I really am.” I say, realizing I mean it. I’m usually not so complacent when it comes to ex-girlfriends and wives.
“Chloe was soft. Quiet. Had this way about her.” He tucks me in closer. “When she entered a room, she brought a sense of calm with her. I was a restless angry boy and she kept me grounded.”
He takes a breath and holds it for a moment before gently letting it out. “She was pregnant with Oscar when our world went to shit.” He stops again so long I start to think he’s changed his mind about telling me.
“What happened?” I murmur as the pounding of his heart gets faster and louder.
He swallows. “She was a waitress and I was working in construction. She worked the late shifts. My workday ended early, but I usually hung around and had a beer with some of the guys.
“Closing was 11 o’clock and I always picked her up.” He sighs and hangs his head. “But that night, I was on my way when I saw one of the guys I worked with on the side of the road. His car had broken down so I stopped to help him. Then we went for a beer.”
I hear him swallow. I feel the tension rolling off him. I don’t move, don’t speak. There’s nothing I can say or do to comfort him.
“I lost track of time,” he says. “Chloe called looking for me. I told her I’d be another half-hour. She said she didn’t mind waiting.” He pauses. “I did that too many times. Made her wait for me. I was an immature prick.”
He shifts away from me but laces his fingers through mine. It’s like he’s hanging off a cliff and I’m the only thing keeping him from falling. “It was well over an hour after we talked when my phone rang. Chloe was calling, or so I thought, but this gruff voice comes over the phone, pissed, angry.
“Get home,” he says bluntly. “Your wife needs you.” Then he hangs up.
“I panicked of course. Who the fuck was calling me on Chloe’s phone? Why the fuck was he with my wife? Not thinking of what he said, just furious at him being there.”
Eight takes a deep breath. “When I get home, Hangman’s there. I never met the guy before in my life. Didn’t know he existed.” He turns to face me. “You’ve seen him, right? Long hair, long beard, tattoos and skull rings. He was wearing his cut, a member of Hell’s Jury.”
I nod.
“I thought the fucker was there to kill me. That maybe Chloe was already dead.” He rubs his mouth. “It was worse than that.
“I went on the offensive, but Hangman knocked my feet out from under me to keep me from attacking him. He said, ‘Someone fucked up your wife. I found her, brought her home but she should be in the hospital.’
Chloe was in the living room, bundled in a bathrobe, huddled on the couch. She was crying, hysterical. Not making sense.”
Eight’s tone is rote as he relates everything that happened that night, words falling out of his mouth, but he’s lost in the past. It’s like I’m not here.
“Finally, she calms enough to tell me what happened. She was gangraped. She served the fuckers that evening and then after closing, when she was waiting for me, they returned, saw her outside, offered her a ride.
She said no, but they insisted.
When they were done with her, they dumped her in an alley like she was garbage. Hangman found her, brought her home. Called me.
“I started weeping, berating myself, hating myself. ‘I’m so sorry, baby. So fuckin’ sorry.
This is my fault.’ I kept saying that shit until Hangman grabbed me and hauled me out of the room.
He said that this wasn’t about me, didn’t matter what I was thinkin’ or feelin’.
Told me to get Chloe to the hospital.” He laughs softly.
“Called me a fucker, told me she didn’t need my weepy ass, she needed medical care. ”
Eight squeezes my hand harder. “Hangman’s a fuckin’ psychopath, but he gets things like no one else does. I guess that’s why he’s prez.”
“So you took her to the hospital,” I prompt.
“Yeah. She was beaten up and torn up but refused to give a statement to the police. She was scared she was going to lose the baby, scared the extra stress would compound it. The doctor told her the baby was okay. She came home a couple of days later.”
“Thank god,” I breathe, realizing how invested I am in the story. How much I needed for Chloe to be okay.
“Yeah. The hospital bill was enormous. We had no insurance and I thought we were gonna lose the house, but then Hangman stepped in again. Paid the bill. It gave me chills. I told him I didn’t want to owe him.
He said he didn’t do it for me. He did it for Chloe.
He also said he’d kick my ass if I didn’t look after her.
I didn’t need to be told – I was never gonna let her out of my sight ever again. ”
Eight tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Chloe lost herself. She was depressed and struggling but she wouldn’t see a therapist. Wouldn’t talk to the cops. Barely talked to me. It’s like she’d already decided what to do.”
I know already, but I need Eight to finish the story. “What’d she do?”