Chapter 61
SIXTY-ONE
Devon
One month later
There was a crashing sound down the hallway, and I dropped the box in my hands. Just as I rounded the corner into Blakely’s new office, I heard her mumbled curses.
“Everything okay in here?”
Blakely glanced up quickly from where she was staring down at her hand. “Everything is perfect. Your cat just scared the crap out of me and made me drop the box on my hand.”
“My cat?” I asked with a small grin. “I think she loves you more than she loves me now.”
Both of our animals loved Blakely more, and I couldn’t blame them. She was Blakely after all.
She shrugged and turned back to what she was doing, but I didn’t miss the smug smile playing across her lips. I crossed the room, crowded with boxes and unorganized furniture, and stepped up behind her.
Her dark curly hair was tied in a low bun at the back of her head, and there was a slight sheen of sweat glistening on the back of her neck. I kissed her salty, sweet skin and let my lips linger a moment longer so I could breathe her in.
She hummed, tilting her head to give me better access as she massaged the hand she must have hurt. I wrapped my fingers around the wrist of her injured hand and lifted it to my lips. I kissed the fingers she’d massaged.
“Actually, it was the other two,” she said mischievously, and I kissed each finger again. She turned and wrapped her arms around my neck and flashed me a genuine, beautiful smile.
One I’d seen more and more often in the past month.
She kissed me soundly, and I savored the taste and feel of her lips against mine.
Forever. That’s how long I’d be thankful that I was lucky enough to feel her kiss, hold her in my arms, listen to her sassy retorts, and hear her sweet laughter.
Actually, lucky didn’t cover how I felt.
One month ago to the day, almost to the second, we were standing in Jeffrey’s office. The plan we’d carefully prepared went off without a hitch. Blakely found the photo in my mom’s belongings and immediately met me at a local lumberyard. I’d been buying wood for an upcoming project when Blakely, frantic and angry, pulled into the parking lot. Tear-drenched lashes surrounded fierce eyes brimming with betrayal and indignation.
She’d told me what happened through clenched teeth and in angry hushed whispers. Then she immediately began describing her plan. There wasn’t time for anything else.
We got to work putting it into action. Without security cameras to contend with, we only had to insinuate to Megan that she should fake being sick. And that morning, we’d let Marie in on what we’d learned. She didn’t have to be convinced of anything. She was more than happy to give Blakely an hour with Jeffrey before she called in the cavalry.
And all I had to do was wait in the wings while Blakely made him confess every single one of his sins. It was a new, sick form of torture to listen to him condescend and make excuses. But Blakely held her own. And she’d done everything she’d planned.
Her rage was beautiful. Watching her carve into his skin with precision was a powerful sight. She was the epitome of vengeful victory.
But that wasn’t to say everything was rainbow and sunshine now. Neither of us were na?ve to think that retribution and his arrest, which we watched from the parking lot across the street, would undo the years of pain and torment. It was a start, though.
And every day, it looked like another weight was lifted on her shoulders.
Our kiss slowed, and Blakely pulled back. I chased her mouth, and she rewarded me with one last kiss between a laugh.
“We still have so much to organize,” she groaned, glancing around what would be her office once it was complete.
Although I was reluctant for my mom to move out, I was excited for the next step with Blakely. We’d met Sabrina, my mom’s new girlfriend, a week before, and I knew in the first minute that there was no point trying to convince her to stay.
My mom had been through so much, and she’d finally found love. She deserved to enjoy it. And it was my hangup anyway. They were my issues and mine alone that made me want to keep her close, because part of me worried what might happen if she wasn’t. But it was no way to live.
She was less than fifteen minutes away anyway.
“We’ll get it done,” I promised. “Maybe not before Monday, but we’ll at least get your desk set up.”
She nodded and sighed, letting her hands fall to my chest. “I forgot to tell you,” she began, and I tensed. Her voice was strained, and I held her tighter as she took another breath. “The attorney called. She said Jeffrey is still arguing for a lesser sentence. He won’t budge, and they’re worried that he’s holding out for a jury trial. That he’ll try to use what I did as part of his defense. ”
Even behind bars, he was still trying to control the narrative. The district attorney refused to press charges against Blakely, especially since they couldn’t prove it was her that carved the word into his forearm.
And I was confident that would stick. Prosecuting the victim of such a heinous crime wouldn’t look good on them.
“They’ll come to an agreement,” I said. “He may wait until the last minute, but they’ll figure it out. This is just the last thing he has to hold over you, so he’s going to make it last as long as possible.”
“God, he’s such a dickface,” she mumbled angrily, and I rolled my lips to keep from laughing. “Not to mention my mom called today.”
More so than the news about Jeffrey, hearing that her mom had called was disconcerting.
“I don’t know why I picked up this time, but…she’s my mom, and I guess I was still hoping she’d have something supportive to say. She didn’t, but—” She waved and leaned back against the desk, folding her arms over her chest. She often became closed off when talking about her mom; she didn’t let her mom’s obvious disinterest and indifference affect her as much, but it still made an impact whether Blakely admitted it or not. “Anyway, she was upset because I hadn’t been answering her calls or responding to her texts, and she was even more frustrated that she couldn’t get ahold of the DA. She wants me to tell them that she will do whatever Jeffrey wants to keep this from going to trial, but…”
I ran a comforting hand down her arm, and she laced our fingers together. One day it would all be over, and I couldn’t fucking wait for that day. Every day further away from what took place in Jeffrey’s office was better. But she also spent a lot of her time preparing for the worst-case scenario. With all the unknowns still hanging over her head, I wasn’t surprised.
“What can I do?” I asked with little confidence that I could do anything that would make an impact .
With a tired smile, she stood once again and let her hands wander down my chest and settle on my waistband. “A distraction would be preferable. One that involves the seven-and-a-half-inch-long weapon hiding inside your pants.”
She didn’t waste any time palming said “weapon.” I began to laugh, but it died on a gasp when she wrapped her fingers around my rapidly hardening length.
“A weapon?” I managed to ask as I gripped her thighs and lifted her into my arms. She yelped in surprise but recovered quickly. I wouldn’t have minded fucking her on her desk, but it was covered in boxes of her belongings, and it would take too long to relocate all of them. Especially when I wanted to be inside her immediately.
She ran her nose along my jaw and peppered sensual, open-mouth kisses down my neck. “Yes, a weapon,” she murmured into my heated skin. “It can do some serious damage, but at least I enjoy every second.”
I dodged boxes as I strode through the room and down the hallway toward our bedroom. The setting sun illuminated the room in a soft glow, one that was gorgeously reflected on Blakely’s pale, smooth skin.
“Just enjoy?” I dropped her on the unmade bed, and she bounced with a giggle, crawling backward toward the pillows. Like a puppy, I followed until I was kneeling between her spread thighs. Grasping her hips, I kneaded the muscles under my palm and grazed her ass with the tips of my fingers.
She groaned and pushed my shirt higher, scraping her nails down my stomach in a way she knew drove me fucking crazy. “Not just enjoy, I misspoke,” she admitted on a breathy whisper. “I love it. Crave it. Dream about it. All those nightmares, somewhere along the way, they were replaced with you.”
Reaching up, I brushed my thumb over her cheek and stared down into her stone-gray eyes.
“I’d chase away those nightmares over and over again,” I promised, letting my sincerity permeate every single word. She held my stare for a beat, and when I saw tears filling her eyes, I kissed her.
It was chaste and sweet. Filled with emotions and tenderness. But that didn’t last long. Not when I swept my tongue across the seam of her plump lips, and she eagerly opened for me. Making the most perfect, needy sounds.
“ Fuck , sweetheart.” We broke apart only long enough for me to lean back and tug her flimsy athletic shorts down her long legs. Too damn eager to do much else, I pushed my joggers down only as far as I needed to.
I fisted my shaft and gaped at the beautiful woman before me. With her legs spread, she’d pushed her shirt and sports bra up to expose her breasts and the silver barbells through each nipple. She toyed with one, tugging and pinching it between her fingers while her other hand slowly trailed down her stomach.
It was a slow, torturous drag, but one that ended with her fingertips circling her clit. Leaning forward, I brushed my fingers against her opening. Goose bumps peppered her skin, and a hushed moan left her lips as I pushed one finger inside.
“So perfect,” I muttered, crooking my finger up and pressing it against the spot that made her legs shake. I repeated the motion until she was dripping and clenching around my finger.
And neither one of us could stand another second if I wasn’t inside her.
I pulled my finger free and poised above her, sheathing myself in one swift movement. We both groaned, and I let the warmth and softness of her body consume me. I planted a hand beside her head while the other gripped her hip to hold her steady.
I began slow, rolling motions with my hips as she hooked her legs around my waist. Her nails clawed at my skin until they found purchase on my shoulders.
“God, you feel so good,” she moaned. She tugged the bottom of my T-shirt, and I reared back to whip it off over my head. Leaning back down, I surged into her again, but she caught me off guard. She bucked her hips and pushed my shoulders. I fell to the side, and she was on top of me in less than a second, gripping my cock in her hand and positioning it beneath her. She slipped down onto me with a gasp.
I reached out to grasp her hips, my fingers within inches of her soft skin, but she wrapped her hands around my wrists and guided them above my head. She pushed them into the pillows as she bared down on me, beginning a tortuous roll of her hips.
She raised one dark brow and pushed my hands harder into the pillows in a silent command to keep them there. And I wasn’t going to move if it meant that she continued the delicious rhythm she’d begun.
Sitting up, she tugged her shirt over her head quickly, followed by her bra, and I was blessed with the sight of her perfect tits. My hands itched to cup and squeeze them, but all thoughts of anything else faded from my mind when she braced her palms on my chest and rocked backward.
I gripped the pillows above my head like they’d somehow keep me grounded. But it was useless and hopeless; she was perfect, and I was only along for the ride.
She lifted her hips in a slow, concentrated motion until it was just the blunt head of my cock fitted inside her pussy. My shaft glistened with her arousal, and the sight was mouthwatering. I was only able to look away when I noticed her eyes locked on my face, a poignant desire simmering behind the gray.
“The perfect cock,” Blakely said, running her fingers up my chest, grazing my nipple, and skimming along my collarbone. She cupped my jaw and slipped her thumb against my lower lip. “And the perfect man.”
What little control I still maintained shattered in an instant. I grabbed her hips and pulled us both higher up the bed. Until I leaned against the headboard, and she was sitting on my lap. When I eased her back down, the tip of my cock brushed a spot deeper than I thought possible.
She cried out on a broken sob, and I wrapped my arms around her waist. She started moving the second our hips met, bucking back and forth and digging her nails into my shoulders. My hands wandered up and down the column of her spine, and she bowed her back, inviting me to kiss and bite along her neck and collarbone. I worked my way lower and took one pierced nipple into my mouth.
Like it was a direct line to her cunt, she constricted around me with every scrape of my teeth against the metal. I switched to the other breast as she rode me. She chased that euphoric high, and I was eager to get her there.
Reaching underneath the pillow behind me, I searched for the toy I’d hid there half an hour before. Trying to hide it from my mother had served me well.I sucked and twirled my tongue around her nipple as I pulled out the toy and clicked it on.
I dropped my hand between us and poised the tip against her clit. She gasped, and I ground my teeth against the vibration. It radiated up my shaft and down my balls. It was only made more brutal by the tensing and clenching of her inner walls.
Her hips stuttered, and I clutched her harder against me with my free hand around her back. “Don’t stop moving,” I commanded through gritted teeth. Her hands clasped my cheeks, and she tilted my head higher until she was able to press her lips against mine.
Teeth clashing, tongues tangling—it was messy and urgent. It was often like that. Like we couldn’t get close enough or deep enough. We always wanted more. More than more.
I devoured every little sound she blessed me with, and they tasted even sweeter every time. Our hot, panted breaths mixed, and her body tensed above me. She tightened, and I knew she was almost there, so I took over. I held her steady and pumped into her from below. A plethora of indiscernible expletives tumbled from her lips followed by a low, broken moan.
She’d called me perfect earlier, but there was nothing in the world more perfect than her.
She clung to me as her body was overcome with pleasure. Body shaking and hips grinding to a halt, I drove deep and let her use me to wring out every drop, every second of satisfaction.
Watching her and feeling her fall apart did little to hold off my own orgasm. With a few more pumps of my hips, I was pulsing deep inside her. She held my stare as I felt every part of me shatter and splinter. I was a million tiny little pieces that she held in her hands.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” I cried. Tossing the toy to the side, I enveloped her in my arms and pressed my face to her heaving chest.
“I love you,” she whispered, and my heart expanded so quickly that I worried it would burst from my chest.
“The way I feel about you…love doesn’t feel like a descriptive enough word. It’s too big for words,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth as emotions welled up inside me. “Someone who’s a lot better at them could probably explain it, but the way I feel about you is in every little moment we spend together. And in every moment we’re apart, because, I swear, you’re never far from my mind. I love you in every single second of every single fucking day. And I plan to do it for the rest of my life, Blake.”
I tried to lean back and look up at her, but she held me tighter. And I wasn’t going to be the first to let go. My words sat heavy around us in the quiet room, punctuated by her quiet sniffles and shallow intakes of breath.
“Fuck, sweetheart, I didn’t?—”
“No, no,” she whispered. “It’s okay.” She leaned back and wiped away the rogue tear slipping down her cheek. I caught one on the other side with my thumb and tugged her down for a soft kiss. When she pulled back, there was a small, hesitant smile curling her lips. “I want to show you something.”
With a wince, she slid off my lap, my half-soft cock slipping free and immediately missing the warmth of her body. She padded over to a stack of boxes on the opposite side of our bedroom. Peering around for a moment, she leaned over all of them and stood back up with her journal in her hand. She grabbed the shirt I’d discarded on the floor and pulled it over her head, then flipped through the worn pages until she found what she was looking for.
I tugged my joggers back on and curiously eyed the journal when she dropped it in front of me. She’d never let me read any of her entries before, so I was surprised when she pointed at the open page.
“I’ll be right back, but read this one,” she instructed. I glanced down at the page before me and only looked up in time to see her closing the bathroom door behind her.
Scanning the page, I examined the neat yet curly quality of her handwriting, although it was clear she’d been writing hastily the way each word slid into the next, only stopping for periods and other punctuation.
At the top of the page, the entry was dated more than two months before, and her words began on the next line.
The first time I saw Devon, it wasn’t love at first sight. But I knew he would be an important person in my life. From the moment we met, I knew he was kind and thoughtful and sweet. Watching him interact with his friends for only a short time and those traits were obvious. I grew to love him in the way a flower grows in a garden. Planted a little prematurely, the love bloomed into friendship that I would cherish above almost anything else. But my own boundaries kept me from exploring it more.
It took a near-death experience to realize he was it for me. He was the one, my person, my soulmate, however you want to say it, it was him.
Even without being there, he’d managed to sink into my bones and foster a love so fierce, I didn’t know something like it could exist.
Then I’d come back to Austin and come to another realization: that it was too late. Watching him be with someone else was excruciating. But I only ever wanted him to be happy. Above all else, if he was happy, I could manage the heartbreak. Somehow .
I was never one to root for the end of a relationship—that was karma I couldn’t afford. But when I learned that they’d ended things, it took everything in me not to freaking cheer. That was why I couldn’t wait another second before I told him, or better yet, showed him exactly how I felt.
And it was the best decision I’d ever made.
I love the way Devon loves me. It’s a quiet, intentional love that he shows through every little word and action. It’s the way he always finds me in a room. It’s the way he leaves the light on every night even though it’s harder for him to sleep. It’s the way he carries cherry ChapStick in his pocket and builds me new chairs. It’s the way he always announces himself before he enters a room.
It’s the way he reassures me at every turn and never appears annoyed with how much I might require it.
He makes a promise and keeps it. He’s promised to love me through it all, and I know he’ll keep that one, too. I never thought I’d deserve a love like this even if I found it. But every day, in his sweet, quiet way, he makes me believe that I do. I only hope I make him feel that way, too.
I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear slipped free and stained the page. I dabbed at the wet spot with my thumb, but it didn’t do any good. Dropping the journal back down on the bed in front of me. I wiped at my eyes and drew in a shaky breath.
I stared down at the journal, wondering what else was between those pages when Blakely’s hands appeared in front of me. She closed the book and pushed it to the side, pushing my shoulders back and straddling me, taking her rightful place back on my lap. There weren’t any tears left, but she grazed the place where they’d fallen down my cheeks with her thumbs.
It was a blessing to have her weight on top of me and my arms around her.
“That entire journal and the several I filled before it are mostly dominated by two men. One of them tried to destroy my life. He wanted to leave me broken and a shell of the person I was before. But the other, he found some way to love all the fragmented pieces left behind.”
Speaking felt difficult, but somehow, I managed to clear my throat as I clasped her cheek with one hand and braced the other at the nape of her neck. “You already know you’re not broken, sweetheart. But I’ll love every piece of you for as long as you’ll let me.”
A confident, unwavering smile graced her lips, and I wanted to taste it. I leaned forward and brushed our lips together just as she said, “I don’t want anything less than the rest of our lives.”
“Me neither,” I agreed.