Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
KANE
We fuck in the shower the following morning. These small houses don’t have en-suite bathrooms. Not like the mansions in the Heights.
As I exit the steamed-up bathroom, with a tiny towel around my waist, Chris steps out of his room.
He looks two seconds away from popping an artery or something when he spots me.
Especially when Jessica exits behind me, clutching a towel that barely covers her ass.
The walls are paper-thin, and my girl is loud. Chris will have heard us.
Oh well, comedic timing aside, it feels good not to have to sneak around. At least we don’t have to hide anymore. Not here.
“Good morning.” My voice is far too chipper.
Chris’s nostrils flare before he stomps off in a huff down the hall, sounding like a herd of elephants on the stairs. The guy needs to lighten up.
“You’re trouble,” Jessica admonishes, stepping around me to enter her room, but I catch her waist and pull her back against me.
“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” I bite her neck and slip my hand beneath her towel. She’s still slick from earlier, and my fingers slide inside without resistance.
“We can’t do this here, Kane,” she whimpers, trembling as I fuck my cum back inside her.
“Then tell me to stop.”
She doesn’t. Instead, she bites her lip between her teeth to keep quiet and rides my hand, but before she can come again, I remove my fingers.
“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes glazed as I enter her room, noting the gun on her desk. I already know she’ll grab it before I feel the cold metal between my shoulder blades, but it still makes me grin.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, removing the safety. “Did I say you could stop?”
My cock was already hard when I fingered her sweet pussy, but it’s painfully erect now. What is it about her games that turns me on this much?
“You already came twice in the shower, remember?”
“And now I want to come again.”
I tut. “So greedy.”
She doesn’t deny it as she reaches around me, dipping her fingers beneath the fold of my towel. Her hand wraps around my rigid cock, and she begins to stroke me in long, slow pulls, from root to tip and back down again, until the world becomes a haze.
“Who’s greedy now?” she asks, her voice sultry.
“Why don’t you lower the gun?”
“Why don’t you shut up?” she counters, stroking me faster. “Tell me what you’d do to me if you overpowered me.”
My cock twitches in her grip, the veins straining. What would I do? Push her down on the bed and straddle her face? Force my thick cock down her throat until she chokes on my cum?
My cock grows even thicker at the illicit thought.
“Tell me,” she coaxes, trailing the gun lower.
“Why don’t I show you instead?”
For a second, I think she might concede and let me play by my rules, but voices rise downstairs before she can answer, and Jessica steps away, placing the gun on the nightstand. Whatever is happening, the mood is gone.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Jessica gives me a miserable look and leans back against the desk.
“Hey?” I step closer and cup her cheeks. “Talk to me.”
She looks up at me, her eyes gleaming with regret. “My dad’s home.”
I don’t understand. Why is she upset that her dad’s home? They’re arguing downstairs. Families do that. Still, I sense this is more than just a regular fight.
Jessica steps away from me. “I need a moment alone with my dad and brother. Please stay here.”
What? No.
I start to follow her, watching her quickly throw on some clothes, then she turns at the door with a wretched look on her face, one that makes me hesitate. “Please,” she whispers softly. “Wait here.”
Then she’s gone, and the door clicks shut behind her, leaving me with more questions than answers.
What just happened? I hear something crash downstairs, and Chris is shouting at their dad while I wonder what I’m doing.
I can’t just stay here. What if Jessica gets hurt?
Still, she begged me to wait, so I should respect that.
Whatever is happening, she’s not ready for me to be involved yet, just like I haven’t shared certain parts of myself either.
We both keep secrets from each other… and parts of ourselves.
Sitting on the desk chair, I rest my elbows on my thighs and tug at my hair. Why won’t she let me be there for her? To protect her. God, I hate this gap between us.
As I straighten up, I notice my phone on the nightstand.
What did Maverick send me yesterday? I still haven’t checked, but he said it’s enough to bury my father.
Intrigue wins out, and I grab my phone before sitting back on the edge of the bed.
Maverick:
Tell me I’m pretty before you open this.
I would be amused if I weren’t so intrigued. What could he possibly have dug up on my dad?
I click on the video attachment.
The fighting eventually dies down.
When Jessica finally returns to her room, I’m dressed and pacing the small space, ready to rip the door off its hinges. I half expect her to send me home, but that’s not what happens, and now we’re all sitting around their kitchen table, digging into eggs and bacon.
I’m searching for the right word to describe the atmosphere. Awkward could work, but it’s more than that. A lot more.
Chris glares at me the entire time, barely touching his food. An insult, if you ask me, since my girl cooked it, and if I didn’t have to pretend to be a happy family with that jerk, I’d shove it down his throat. No one disrespects Jessica. Least of all her cooking.
I glance at her deadbeat father. The guy looks like he has slept under a bridge for a year. He’s covered in dirt, his remaining hair is a mess, and his eyes are bloodshot. The man needs to sober up, take a shower, and shave.
And then there’s Summer, who hasn’t uttered a word since she sat down next to Chris.
She’s picking at her food too, but not out of disrespect; she keeps glancing at their father, like she’s worried he’s about to blow a fuse or something.
It piques my interest enough to observe how they interact with him.
Has he ever hurt my girl? I need to ask her later, but how should I bring it up?
‘Excuse me? Does your father hit you? Or does he touch you in any way that would make me want to slit his throat?’
That’ll go over well.
Chris stabs a piece of bacon. “You should shoot Jessica’s boyfriend with your rifle, Dad.”
Jessica stiffens next to me as she glares daggers at her brother, who hardens his jaw and looks at her.
Their father scratches his chest—his dirty wife beater—and narrows his gaze on me, but he’s still drunk and struggles to focus, swaying in his seat. “What are you doing with my daughter?”
“Dad!” Jessica snaps, then quieter, “Shut up.”
“No, that’s okay.” I stretch my arm along the back of her chair. “With all due respect,” I say to her father. “I’m going to marry your daughter.”
Chris scoffs, and I give him a sharp look. “I’m not going anywhere. I have the money and power to take her away from all of this. I can offer her a better future, and I will.”
Chris crosses his arms. “And what happens when you grow bored of her?”
“Chris,” Jessica whines, slumping in her chair. Meanwhile, her father is leaning so far to the left he’s about to fall off the chair, but no one seems to notice or care.
“That’ll never happen.” I address their father next even though he isn’t paying attention, “There’s no girl like your daughter, sir.”
God, he’s in a sorry state. The man needs to sober up and get his act together.
If not for his dying wife, then at least for his kids.
He owes them that. As soon as I get home today, I’ll make sure he goes to rehab.
He’s not setting foot in this house again until he can contribute something valuable to his family.
Summer smiles gently. At least someone is easily swayed. Chris, however, clenches his jaw as he shifts in his seat. Nothing I say will convince him of my good intentions. Only time and patience will.
“You talk a good game.” Chris drops his fork on the plate. “But let me make one thing clear. Hurt one hair on my sister’s head, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“I heard you the last time you threatened me, Holt.”
I give him a meaningful look, and his lips tip at the edge. If I remember correctly, I gave him permission to kill me if I ever hurt his sister, and I stand by my word. If I hurt her, he can put a bullet in my skull.
Chris opens his mouth to reply when Mr. Holt finally topples to the floor.