Chapter 20 Nightmares #2
Raising my hands to cup her breasts through her t-shirt, I watched her. “You’re my sweet, good girl, and I’m going to worship you.”
She searched my eyes, hers big and soft and trying so fucking hard to trust.
“But in our bedroom, you can be as dirty as you want, and I promise I’ll drop to my knees just as fast.”
She sucked in a breath, her cheeks flaming, then spun around and threw her arms around my neck. “Deacon.”
“Yes, baby.” I hefted her up so she could wrap her legs around my hips. Fisting the back of her hair, I brought her mouth to mine. “Always, yes.”
I sat her down on the bed and whipped the t-shirt off over her head, surprised to note she wore no panties.
“Well, well, if that isn’t a sweet surprise,” I murmured, my eyes flashing up to meet hers.
She looked split in two, one half running for the door, the other spreading her legs.
I braced my hands on the mattress on either side of her hips, gazing into her wide eyes. “What’s it going to be, baby girl? You running for the door? Or are you going to spread those pretty thighs for me?”
Her lips formed a perfect ‘oh,’ then she leaned back on the bed on her hands, spread her legs, and pulled her feet up onto the mattress.
Fuck. Me.
“That’s my baby,” I rumbled.
Turning back to her dresser, I tilted the mirror down so she could see herself.
She sucked in a breath, looking slightly horrified.
“You’re stunning, Jenny.” I corrected. “First you’re going to watch me eat you out, then you’re going to watch yourself bounce on my fucking cock, and then I’m going to fuck you against the headboard.”
“Oh my,” she breathed.
“You look away from the mirror even once, all the fun stops,” I stated, my voice stern.
“Oh no.” She laughed softly, her cheeks pink. “We don’t want that.”
“We certainly don’t,” I agreed, a chuckle rumbling up in my chest. “I will not be pleased if we have to stop.”
In answer, she leaned back further and dropped her eyes to her pussy before looking back at me and cocking an eyebrow.
I grinned at her. “You’re getting brave. That’s good. Because I’m going to push you farther than you think you can go.”
I dropped to my knees then raised my eyes to hers. “And you’re going to love every minute of it.”
She came three times and drained my balls dry.
I should have slept like a baby.
But going out with Miller and the guys ripped into my psyche and tilled the memories I’d buried.
It was the same dream every time.
In the dreamworld, I had no control.
No voice.
Trapped behind thick glass, cut off from the me in the dream, I watched as Charlie and I joked around with the ground crew, walked to the fence, and propped my arms on the top.
“No, no, no!” I cried, running back and forth behind the glass, trying to grab the attention of the me who walked to the fence and propped his arms on the top to watch. “Don’t let him go up there!”
In the dream, I had no voice, but my vocal cords ached and strained and turned raw with my screams.
Spinning around, I pounded on the glass and yelled at Charlie instead. “Charlie! Charlie!”
He cocked his head and began to turn toward me.
Hope sparked in my heart.
He stilled and turned further, looking but not seeing.
“Charlie!” I renewed my efforts, waving my arms and throwing my shoulder into the glass. “Charlie!”
I hauled my arm back and punched the glass as hard as I could until my knuckles split and bled.
“Stop!” I screamed, the bones in my hands shattering. “No!”
Ground control saluted Charlie and the airplane, and Charlie laughed, offering a fist bump and a handshake.
I pounded my fists on the glass and screamed. “Charlie! Charlie, don’t get on that plane!”
The Deacon standing at the fence raised a fist in support.
Deacon.
A voice called my name.
My vocal cords burst. Blood pooled in my mouth and dribbled down my chin.
I cried like a baby, trapped behind the glass.
Behind the glass, I couldn’t look away, but the me at the fence could still save himself the visual.
Deacon.
It was a woman’s voice.
Tears streamed down my face, choking me, blurring my vision.
I swiped them away and splayed my bloody hands against the glass.
“Don’t look!” I cried, falling to my knees as the plane took off. “Please, don’t look.”
For the Deacon who stood at the fence, I prayed, “Look away, oh God, please make him look away.”
Deacon.
It was her voice.
My eyes sprang open.
I looked around. Not recognizing the room, I lurched out of the bed.
“Deacon, sweetheart, you’re safe,” she cooed.
I found her kneeling in the middle of the bed, hands reaching for me.
Was she really here, or was this some new torture the dream conjured up?
“You had a bad dream, baby,” she soothed. “You’re okay.”
Fuck.
I dug my toes into the carpet.
Filled my lungs with the scent of her perfume.
Locked my eyes with hers.
“I’m okay,” I wheezed.
My shoulders dropped, and I rubbed a shaking hand over my face.
“Can I come to you?” she asked.
Oh, God. She’s terrified. Too many violent men held starring roles in her childhood.
I held up a finger, fighting to steady my breathing. “I’m all sweaty. Let me take a quick shower. I’ll be right back.”
Fifteen minutes later, I walked back in.
Clean sheets on the bed, the bedside lamp on, two glasses of water and a plate piled high with thick slices of sourdough bread smothered with jam.
And her.
The remaining tension leached out of me.
She threw back the covers and patted the bed beside her.
We didn’t speak while we ate, but she plastered herself to my side. When the plate was empty, she cleared everything to her dresser then crawled back into bed beside me.
“Tell me.”
I winced, ready to refuse.
“Tell me,” she urged, her voice soft but insistent.
I lay down on my side and pulled her back to my chest.
Starting from the beginning, I told her about the dream.
Then I told her all about Charlie.
I swallowed past the grief strangling my throat. “It was just a training exercise, but it was supposed to be me up there. He’d just found out his wife was expecting. He was boiling over with excess energy, and he asked to take my place.”
“Baby,” she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”
I nodded, sticking my face in her hair, filling my nose with her sweet fragrance rather than the stench of smoke and twisted steel and blood that stayed with me.
I breathed her in.
She trailed her nails up and down the arm I anchored around her ribs.
Her peace stole over me.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I admitted. “And I feel guilty that I’m happy here with you while he never even got a chance to hold his kid.”
She was quiet for a moment, then I felt her ribs expand.
“For a long time, I believed there was something inherently wrong with me. Ansel showed me that’s not true, but that belief is buried so deep and wrapped around so much of me that I’m not sure it can be yanked out without destroying something else; something good.”
She paused. “If you weren’t meant to be here, you wouldn’t be. That’s the truth. But maybe there’s something wrapped up in your belief that he should be here that’s good. Maybe you’re not meant to yank it out entirely. Maybe it doesn’t mean what you think it does.”
“I’ve never told anybody about the dream.”
She squeezed my arm close. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
I closed my eyes, focussed on the perfection of holding her in my arms. “I do trust you. I want you to trust me, too.”
Her phone buzzed, the sound cutting through the peaceful silence between us.
She picked it up, and it trembled in her grip.
My attention sharpened on her face.
Paling, she pressed accept. “Hello?”
There was no answer.
After a moment, she ended the call and turned to me. “Wrong number.”
She looked too scared for it to be a wrong number. “Is this the first time hang up you’ve received?”
She shook her head, her eyes glossing over. “I’m scared it’s all going to start up again,” she confessed.
“All what?” I prodded, tucking her back under the covers with me.
We’d deal with our nightmares together.
We’d deal with everything life threw at us together.
“The crank calls, the slurs and name-calling, the boycotting of my business, the vandalism. It was bad.”
“I had no idea,” I admitted.
“I don’t want you dragged into it.” She gulped. “I still check the front window every morning. Even though it only happened once, having those words up there for everyone to see, it was humiliating.”
“Do you want to tell me the words?” I asked softly.
She paused, then shook her head. “There was a break-in.”
My entire body hardened. “Were you home?”
She nodded. “I was upstairs. Sergeant Elliott got here before they made it into the kitchen. The only damage was to the front. Miller and the rest of the guys helped me fix it up.”
“A forced renovation,” I stated.
“Something like that,” she admitted.
“Did they find out who did it?”
She shook her head and softly scraped her nails over my chest, soothing the beast inside me. “No. They had suspicions but couldn’t make them stick.”
“Do you have a security system?”
“No.”
“We’ll get one. First thing Monday morning, I’ll make arrangements.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she protested.
I shook my head, only slightly exasperated. I kissed her neck. “You’re not getting it, baby. Not yet. But you will.”