Chapter 4 #2
But I ignore his words, focusing on the fire rapidly spreading through my veins.
“Keep moving,” I beg, panting when he surges his hips back and forth, jostling me on the counter.
“Yes,” I moan, as his hands caress every inch of me, finally landing on my clit.
I don’t protest, even when it’s so sensitive I want to back away.
His fingers twirl around it with heavy pressure, going in circles until I combust, clamping down on his cock.
“Fuck,” he gasps out, tightening his hold on my hair until his mouth sears against mine and our tongues mingle.
His breaths rush out, brushing against my cheek when he stops all movement and simply stays where he is as his cum coats my insides.
Wait…
“You didn't wear a condom?” My eyes snap open, all the pleasure leaving my body at once, like ice pouring over my head.
It's too intimate. Too much between strangers in a bar.
Panic swarms me at the thought of… well, anything! STDs. Pregnancy. I mean, I'm on birth control to help level out my damn periods, but still. You never know.
“Don't worry, Crumpet,” he whispers, running his lips down my jaw, nibbling and begging for more as he thrusts inside me again. “I'm clean as clean can be, and I want to go again.” He thrusts forward again with a groan.
But that’s not happening. He sounds so confident in his answer, but I don't trust it.
Not one bit.
I slump, pushing at his chest until he takes a step back, taking his dick with him. He eyes me with a smile gracing his lips. Seeming more relaxed than he was at the bar.
“I'm glad you're clean,” I groan, hopping off the counter, grabbing my discarded jeans, boots, and panties, and immediately go into one of the bathroom stalls.
I quickly clean up, throw on my panties, and zip up my pants, coming to a stop in front of him.
He watches my every move, taking me in with a weird level of interest.
“I am,” he says, tilting his head. “Are you?”
I blink several times. When exactly was the last time I got laid, anyway? I shake my head. I can't remember. Apparently, I was going through a drought. A big, long drought of no sexy time, and Malic filled my cup.
Now, it was time to make my great escape. Far, far away from here. With the clarity this gave me, I’m ready to face Jonathan and this case head on. Well, maybe.
“Of course,” I say, making a move toward the door. Unfortunately, I don't get too far. He grabs my arm firmly in his grip, stopping me short and pulling me close to his warmth.
I freeze at the feeling of his hands on me.
Excitement bursts through my veins again, but I shake it off.
I can’t fall into his trap again. I can’t let him rock my world a second time, no matter how much my body begs for more of him inside me.
Not to mention the orgasms. I shudder at the thought.
Could I really go for two more soul-splitting orgasms?
Yes. Yes, I could. But I have a job to do. Responsibilities to fulfill. And as much as I want to live in this fantasy land with Malic, I need to go back to the hotel.
Gently, I remove his hand from me, and he pouts.
Actually fucking pouts, but respectfully takes a step back.
But those eyes? Oh, those eyes never leave me, taking in their last fill.
A shiver works its way down my spine, begging me to reconsider round two.
Just looking at him and the way he looks at me, like I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever laid eyes on, does funny things to me.
No one has made me feel so damn desired in so long.
I internally shake my head, getting a better grip on myself.
This has to be the post-sex fog. Where’s my clarity, damn it?
I got off three times, I should have a clear mind and make good decisions.
Starting with walking away and making my grand escape before I let this psycho lure me back to his place.
“Until next time?” he asks with the tilt of his lips and hope in his tone.
Fat chance. I'm a one-time kind of gal, especially in this town. Besides, I can’t get too attached. To anyone. The last time that happened, it went up in flames. Literally.
“I'm leaving on Sunday.” This version of me, anyways.
If he is around, he'll never know it's me. Hopefully, he won't be anywhere near Greenwood U. I can't have him sniffing me out for another amazing round of amazing sex. Fuck.
“To where?” he inquires, stepping closer. “Can I come? Follow you there? I can live in your closet. Just feed me and let me eat you for dinner and…”
I startle. Wait! What kind of dinner are we talking about?
Like between my legs for dinner? Because that doesn’t sound half bad.
I can see it now. Me spread out on the dinner table with Malic between my legs, and maybe Wilder watching from the shadows with…
I wrinkle my nose at the thought. Why did my mind go there?
Wilder is an asshole. Always has been. Especially with Mack.
But fuck that guy. You know what? Fuck them both.
I don’t need to dip into any more insanity.
Well, more than I already have.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
The last thing I need is Malic living in my closet, begging for bread and pussy on the regular.
What the hell did I get into bed with? Or…
on the bathroom counter with? Jesus. I was right before; he is giving major psycho vibes.
But damn, he was good. Too good. Almost hazardous for my health.
He reminds me of my cousin Jericho's little friend, Arrow.
Now, he's a true psycho. Except Malic is more.
There's something deep in his eyes, giving him away.
I remove my hand, revealing a pout on his lips. “How can I keep you if you're leaving?”
Whoa. Keep me? Yeah, time to get the hell out of dodge and vacate the bathroom before he drugs me, takes me back to his bedroom, handcuffs me to a radiator, and never lets me go.
Just as I'm about to open my mouth to retort, someone pounds on the bathroom door with force, shaking the wood and threatening to ram through.
“Malic?” Wilder grunts, knocking viciously like the big, bad Malic would find trouble in the women's bathroom and wouldn't be able to handle himself.
“Bummer, Crumpet. Looks like our time has come to a dreadful end,” he sighs, grabbing the front of my shirt and bringing me forward.
Before I can breathe, his lips are on mine, leaving their mark.
“Until next time,” he whispers with a promise—Or threat?
I'm not entirely sure, and releases my shirt.
“Now, if you'll excuse me. My keeper and I need to have a few words.”
His keeper?
Also. There won’t be a next time. Not now or ever.
Malic unlocks the bathroom door and swings it wide open, revealing Wilder standing on the other side with his fist raised.
An unlit cigarette hangs loosely from his lips as he narrows his eyes on Malic and then on me.
His storm grey blue eyes check me over from head to toe, scrutinizing my wrinkled clothes and hair.
I frown, running a hand down my shirt and straightening my appearance up. I’m sure once I walk out into the bar, they’ll know exactly what we did back here.
“Malic.” His chest heaves with a big breath, concern crossing his features. Well, until he turns to me again. “And…” he trails off, looking at my disheveled shirt and messy hair. He visibly reels back, the cigarette dropping to the ground.
“Wilder. You're interrupting,” Malic grumbles, waving a hand. “Go back to…”
“We need to talk. In private,” Wilder rushes out, interrupting what Malic was about to say, which is fine because I'd rather slip away from here and go back to my hotel.
Malic immediately straightens, losing his cool demeanor.
“Do we?”
Wilder rolls his eyes and plucks his cigarette off the ground. “I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it.”
Oh, snarky.
Malic's eyes focus on Wilder's hands, but I don't catch it as I slip between them.
Eager not to get caught in Wilder's gaze and be recognized. Not that he would ever recognize me. My name is on a gravestone, after all. I’m dead to these people.
But that's the last thing I need. Not to mention, Wilder was never my biggest fan whenever he popped up to make Mack's life miserable.
“Uh, thanks for that,” I say, shrugging lamely before walking away like my ass was on fire.
I quickly dart into the darkened hallway, my heart in my throat pounding viciously as I make my escape. I only breathe when the bathroom door shuts and the lock clicks into place, locking both of them in the women's bathroom.
Weird.
Their harsh whispered words leak through the door, but no matter how hard I try to make out what they're saying, I can't.
Bummer.
I sigh, slowly walking down the hallway that never seems to end. I pass door after door again.
I wonder if Wilder went and beat a little sense into Nick. It would make sense. Wilder always lived on the opposite side of things. Mack lived with Franco, who took him in. Wilder lived with their drug-addicted mom.
“Fuck,” Mack mumbles, putting his arm over my shoulders as the last bell of the day rings out.
Kids pile out of the school at an alarming rate, racing to their vehicles in an attempt to put Greenwood High in their rearview mirrors.
I don't blame them. School sucks and all that. But it's kind of a reprieve from home.
My brows furrow, following Mack’s gaze at the edge of campus.
Wilder. He's leaning against the school sign, eyeing the traffic with a lit cigarette—or what I can assume is a cigarette—between his lips.
Puffs of smoke roll over his head each time he takes a breath and blows it out. All without using his hands.
“You think she's okay?” I mumble, sticking close as we come to stand in front of him.
Mack's mom may still be alive. But she's a walking zombie. She only lives for the heroin in her veins and nothing else. Not even the many boyfriends she keeps on rotation. Hell, she couldn't do it for Mack and Wilder when they were kids. It's a miracle she stayed somewhat sober to even have them.
Wilder throws his spent cigarette on the ground and stomps on it with a sigh, running his hand over his shaved blond head.
“What's wrong now?” Mack asks, tightening his hold on me protectively.
“No hello, brother? How is everything?” Wilder scoffs, rolling his eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another cigarette, putting it between his lips, but doesn't light it.
“Not when you only come to see me when something is wrong with her. What did she do? Overdose again?” Mack asks, shaking his head.
“You're a little shit,” Wilder grits out. “None of this would have happened if you hadn't run away.”
“Run away? I was taken away, asshole!” Mack hisses. “I gave you an out!”
“And gifted to a goddamn gang leader. Tell me, how's the work? Huh? You're the reason she is the way she is. It's because of him,” Wilder accuses, throwing his arms around.
Mack gently puts me behind him and stands nose to nose with his slightly older brother.
“You're blaming me for her bad habits?” he grits out, pushing his face harder against Wilder's.
“I'm blaming you for being a pussy and abandoning your fucking mom and family,” Wilder hisses, pushing Mack in the chest.
Fuck. I've seen this a million times before. He only comes around when something is wrong to push Mack’s buttons.
And always succeeds.
Mack stumbles back a few steps, turning bright red. His fingers curl into fists, and I know he's ten seconds away from throwing fists.
“Just say what you need to say,” I say, stepping out from behind him.
Wilder snorts. “Oh, look! Your little girlfriend is here to fight your big, bad brother.” He rolls his eyes, stepping back. “You're not worth it, Macklyn.” He turns on his toes, taking a few steps before stopping and looking over his shoulder. “She's missing, by the way.”
“Missing? What's new?” Mack scoffs, taking my hand. “Don't come back until she's dead.”
“Don't count on it, dickbag!” Wilder shouts, putting his middle finger above his head.
I blink back the memory as I stare at the woman's face pinned to the business corkboard in the hallway of the bar, getting lost in the similarities. She's smiling at the camera with long brown hair and crisp blue eyes.
Missing. Meredith Monroe. If seen, please call Malic at 554-425-1933 with information. Last seen at X Marks the Spot. A week ago.
This damn bar.
I wonder what it is about this place? Earl was suspect. And now, there's a missing girl from this location?
I guess I need to bring this up to Jonathan face-to-face.
Maybe it's connected to Franco and his bullshit gang.
He's never above removing problems from the world.
Except, Meredith doesn't look like a problem.
Neither did Earl. Okay, except for his disruption.
He seemed like a drunken old man spouting off about weird aliens.
I pluck the missing person's paper off the cork boards. The board is filled with business cards from local landscaping, casinos, and other businesses in the area. Community events like the blood drive hosted by the bar at Greenwood U line the board, hoping to attract the people of this town.
I shove the missing person's paper into my pocket with a sigh. If anyone can solve the mystery of the missing sister, it's me… if I have time.
“He's back. Again!” a frantic voice echoes through the hallway, coming from… Well, I'm not sure.
My brows furrow as I look around. Malic and Wilder haven't said much since they locked the bathroom door. Or, they've kept their voices low enough that I can't hear a damn thing anymore.
So, that leaves one of the many offices. Or the basement. Nick did say he lived down there.
Another muffled voice comes from… wherever they're hiding, but I can't make out their words.
Dangerous? Yes. If they're up to no good and stealing girls, then I'm a prime target. But I can't leave without sticking my nose in it. Who knows, it could be something juicy and interesting. Maybe I could convince Jonathan that this is what I need to focus on.
“Yeah, I…” I recognize Nick's panicked voice immediately the further I walk, hiding in the shadows. “Sir, I…”
Sir? Well, that tells me he's working for someone. Another gang, possibly? The options are endless.
I stop outside the basement door at the very end of the hall, holding my breath. Yeah. This is where Nick's voice is drifting up from. It's too bad his voice isn't coming through anymore. I slump. Now's my chance to make an escape. But I'll keep this place in mind whenever I go undercover.