Chapter 11
ELEVEN
CRICKET
I’m awake, but my heavy eyelids protest. I feel his muscular arm draped around the small of my waist. Lance isn’t snoring, but his breathing is so deep and raspy, he might as well be.
I’m still naked.
Nothing happened. I was just too tired to get dressed. Lance brought me to his home. I was in and out, the drug-induced haze making my memory spotty. I was conscious but not able to fully comprehend the sequence of events.
From what I remember, Lance stripped me of my wet clothes and set me in his bathtub. He washed my hair with his shampoo, which is why I smell like him—a woodsy but sweet scent with a touch of cinnamon. After he pulled me out of the tub, he offered me a shirt. Instead, I brushed right past him, out of the bathroom, and stumbled right into his bed.
I pulled the covers up to my chin, and the rest is blank, until now.
I want to sit up, but I still feel paralyzed from the conversation with Vesper last night. In one short story, my identity was stolen. Everything I am, is gone. I need something to numb the pain. I tried drowning in alcohol and pairing it with a pill. My body feels weak and lethargic, and my reflexes are slow. My mind, however, is still sharp, fixating on the horrendous truth that is now ingrained in my brain.
I should not be proud to be an O’Leary.
I just want one moment of peace, a fragment of time to forget. There’s one more drug I can try…
And he’s sleeping right next to me.
I’m tempted. Angry or not, Lance’s body is a masterpiece. Lying next to him naked is an unfair level of temptation.
“Lance,” I whisper.
He shoots up, his eyes popping open into wide, startled circles. “C? Are you okay? What time is it?”
He turns on his bedside lamp to study the back of my head. He smooths my hair from behind, and I resist the desire to melt into his touch. I so desperately want to be held by him. But that’s weak. I refuse. Lance made his bed…and I shouldn’t be lying in it. At least, not like this, craving his arms around me while I fall back asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat. That’s love, trust, and comfort. Those things don’t belong to us anymore.
“I’m fine.” I sit up, avoiding his eyes.
“How bad is your hangover?”
Brutal. But I don’t tell him that. I simply shrug like he’s overreacting. “I’m fine. Where are my clothes?”
“Dryer. I washed them for you.”
I shut my eyes so he doesn’t see me roll them. “Thank you.” I lean forward, letting my elbows rest on my thighs as I stretch, trying to get the blood flowing through my body. I freeze when Lance’s fingers graze my upper back. With the very tips of his fingers, he makes a trail from one of my shoulders to the other. It tickles deliciously, and I like the sensation, but again, I shrug off the sweet, tender intimacy.
“C, I…” Lance clears his throat. “Are you going to hear me out now?”
Looking over my shoulder, I meet his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve really seen them in almost two weeks. They look so fucking sad. I know it’s because of me. But what choice do I have? Lance chose…and chose wrong. I had a painful life from the moment my mother died. I’m used to it. But Lance was always my reprieve. He’s the man who always makes me feel better—my consolation prize for a life of tragedy after tragedy. Now, staring into his gleaming, baby-blue eyes and a smile seems impossible.
I decide to leave, but as soon as I scoot forward, the visuals of my mother being driven off the bridge flash through my mind...
There’s screeching and screaming. My brain plays the scene in black and white, so it’s extra dramatic and grisly. My mother’s eyes go still as she sinks to the bottom of the lake. When she hits the bottom, the car melts around her, and she’s swimming in a thick cloud of… I don’t know. Ink? Gasoline? It’s all in grayscale, so I can’t tell what’s surrounding her. I thought she was dead, but she tries to swat against the thick liquid that floats around her head like a lava lamp.
But there’s too much of it. The black liquid is blinding her. She can’t escape, and she’s starting to drown.
Oh…
Blood. It’s blood. Her blood.
“ Mama ,” I mumble.
The visual is so clear I actually reach for her, even though I’m fully aware I’m hallucinating. But as I clamp my eyes shut, the vision changes. The pool of blood is now soaking the ground. And it’s not my mother on the ground in a motionless heap. It’s my baby sister. Saoirse. I bite my lip, so it stops trembling.
The heap on the ground stirs, and I freeze, not ready to see my sister’s pale, lifeless face. But when the body rolls over, it isn’t Saoirse. It’s me. My skin is ghostly white but marked with the bruises Luca gave me all those years ago. I watch myself begin to cry…black tears. Blood tears. My stomach churns—
“C,” Lance whispers against my ear. He wraps his arms around me from behind and pulls me into his lap, against his chest. “Come back. It’s okay. You’re just having a bad trip. It’s not real. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. This is.” He squeezes me tighter. “Feel me holding you? This is real.”
“Let me go,” I say, but I don’t budge. I let him hug me tightly.
“In a minute,” he replies. It’s only when I stop shaking that Lance loosens his death grip on me. He tucks my hair behind my ears and kisses the back of my head. “There you go. Keep breathing. You need water to flush it out.”
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Mixed a superhero pill with alcohol?”
He lets out a small chuckle. “Well, when Linc tells me not to do something—”
“You do it,” I finish.
“Exactly. Worst fucking night of my life. I tried to fight a fictitious bear. Linc made a cold plunge with a residential trash can and two jumbo bags of ice before stripping me down and throwing me in. He was cursing me out the entire time as he kept dunking my head underwater. He was so angry.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Were you having nightmares, or was Linc the nightmare?”
Lance laughs. “Both… But I think he was pissed because he was scared. I had a bad reaction. He thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
“I know everything about you, Lance. How come I don’t know that story?”
I feel him shrug behind me. Still in his arms, he jostles me as he lifts his shoulder, then drops it. “You were with Vesper in Europe somewhere when it happened. I was embarrassed. I cried like a little bitch. I was begging to see my mom and my brother. I wailed for my dad. I lost my fucking mind. It’s not a story I wanted you to know about.”
If we were the old Cricket and Lance, I’d turn around and hold him. There’s no shame in crying about what we’ve lost. But there’s a wedge between us now. I trusted Lance blindly from the get-go. He was my one truth. Us against the world. I just didn’t see the huge fucking asterisk that reads—unless it’d fuck up his relationship with Vesper.
He’s such a puppy. What a joke.
“How much longer do I have of these hallucinations?” I ask.
“Probably a few more hours. Less, if we call Vesper and get you an IV.”
I pull out of his arms and turn to face him, practically slicing him open with my hateful stare. “Yeah, good idea. Go call your keeper and rat me out again.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. He pauses for a moment, then continues. “But don’t think for a moment I regret what I did. I know you’re mad, but you’re here. You’re safe. So, to me…it was worth it.” Impressively, he keeps his eyes fixed on mine, and not on my bare chest.
I’m about to tell him what a weak, sniveling snitch he is, but the haze takes over me again. I clamp my eyes, and the vision starts all over. Mom in the car, on the bridge…about to go over. I shake my head furiously. I don’t want to see it again. If I shut my eyes, it’ll only make it worse. I need a distraction. Something else for my mind to focus on.
And that’s when I notice Lance’s partial erection outlined through the thin comforter. He follows my gaze to his lap. “It’s almost morning. I can’t help it. I wasn’t trying to—” He blows out a deep breath. “Let’s just talk. Whatever you want to say, I can take it.”
Talking is the last thing I want to do right now. I hold my hand out over his covered lap. “Can I?”
He widens his eyes. “What? Take out my cock?”
I nod, glancing down at the noticeable twitch between his legs.
“The answer to that is always yes, but, C…” He runs his hands through his unruly hair. He needs a trim and a shave. It looks like Lance hasn’t been grooming much. Has he really been that distraught over me? “We should talk.”
I pull down the comforter. He’s only wearing a pair of thin, black briefs.
“After.”
“So, we have sex, and then after you’ll stay?”
I run two fingers against my forehead. “No, Lance. First, we fuck. Then, I’ll stay.”
“I missed you.” His eyes drop to my naked chest, the temptation claiming him. “Sounds too good to be true.”
I shrug. “Your call.”
He cups my breasts one at a time, massaging and squeezing. Lance alternates my tits between one of his hands as his erection grows to steel. “What do you want, hm? You can barely look at me, but you want to be intimate, Fiona?”
I flinch at the mention of my real name. “No, I want to fuck.” I grab him through his briefs, closing my fist tightly around his thick bulge. “Dirty, raw, and hard. Fuck me like you hate me.”
Take me away from all of this, Lance. Even if it’s just for a moment.
“I can’t do that.” He presses his lips gently against mine, but I don’t kiss him back. “I wouldn’t know how to.”
“Fine. Then, fuck me like it’s the last time you’ll ever have me. How about that?” I don’t give him time to answer. I yank at his waistband and free the smooth tip of his cock. No teasing, no playing; I tug down his underwear and swallow him whole.
Positioning myself on my knees between his thighs, I hunch over until Lance is touching the back of my throat. I slurp and suck, spitting on the tip, then spreading my saliva all over his shaft.
The deep belly groans he’s making sound like thunder in the distance. A storm is brewing deep inside him. His breath is ragged, and pretty soon his hand finds the back of my head, guiding me to go faster. “Fine, baby,” he growls out. “You’ve got me so worked up.” He bucks into my mouth, forcing another inch down my throat. “You want to be fucked like I own your sweet ass? You got it. Get up before I soak your throat. Or I bet that’s what you want, isn’t it? Every last fucking drop like you’re dying of thirst.”
There he is. Filthy mouth and all.
I pull my mouth away and stroke him firmly before turning around on my hands and knees.
“Good girl. Head down. Pop your ass up.”
Swat. He spanks me with both hands, one on each ass cheek. Out of surprise, I fall face-first into the mattress. Lance runs the heel of his palm up my spine and puts pressure on the back of my neck, burying my head into the soft comforter. “Stay right there,” he commands.
He yanks up my hips and kicks out my knees, so I’m fully on display. Lance spreads my lips with two fingers, then traces my slit with his thumb. As a reflex, I tense, which draws the tip of his thumb inside of me.
“Such a greedy little pussy. But you don’t want my finger, C. Do you? How do you want to come? On my cock or on my tongue?”
“Give me your dick, Lance.” I try to stay in control of my emotions. This is just a physical act—that’s it. Nothing more. I’m not going to melt into a puddle for him like I did the first time.
“You sure? Because I’m just as thirsty for you, baby. How about you come in my mouth, and then I’ll come in yours?”
That sounds so fucking good. But it’s too intimate. I don’t want him touching me and tasting me—making me feel so desired and venerated. I just want to get pounded so hard that I forget about the other pain in my chest.
Reaching between my legs, I guide his dick against my entrance, slickening the tip against my arousal. He hisses. “Damn, you’re so wet. So good, baby…you already feel so good.”
“Hard,” I remind him. “Put your cock where that dirty mouth is... Ah,” I groan into the mattress. Lance thrusts into me so hard I cry out. I underestimated how big he is. He’s already so deep, it’s just on the side of uncomfortable. But I run my mouth to egg him on even more. “Hey, baby carrot, I know there’s more to you than that.”
He slams into me harder, the slapping noise of his flesh against mine sounding like lightning cracking in the sky, right before the deep rumble of thunder. This was the storm that was incoming. Lance and me together—it’s perfect chaos and catastrophe, wrapped up in a bow of pleasure. This is what we can have. Grisly, angry fucking.
I’ll never be his wife…
But tonight, I’ll be his pleasure.
“Deeper, Lance. I want to feel you in my stomach. That cock is so big, I know you can make it.”
He smacks my ass again before speeding up his hip-bruising thrusts. “Keep talking to me like that, Cricket, and I’m going to break you.”
“Break me,” I moan. “Fucking break me.”
He literally fucks all my cares away. My brain goes blissfully blank as I focus on Lance driving in and out of me, touching the sacredly tender spot of my inside walls. When he tries to slow, I throw my hips back harder, taking more of him than he was willing to give.
“Slow, baby. You’re too tight and swollen. You’re going to tear.”
“Stop telling me what I can handle,” I hiss, pushing against him, grinding on his hard cock until he stimulates that perfect spot. The one that makes me feel beautifully out of control. I’ve only done this once or twice in my life; usually, no man can ignite me like this.
But Lance…
Perfect, sexy, gargantuan Lance hits that spot like his life depends on it.
“I’m going to come,” I force out between gasping breaths. “Please don’t stop.”
“Good girl, good girl,” he murmurs under his breath. “I feel you shaking. I want you to soak me. Can you do that?” He rips out of me and quickly replaces his cock with his fingers. He curls them inside of me and scoops his other hand underneath me to push on my belly. “Hold on to my fingers tight, baby.”
I try, but my mind is gone. The torturous tingling pleasure has rendered me speechless, and I can’t even squeal in shock and delight as I release all over Lance’s hand. He quickly yanks his hand out of me to rub against my clit, exasperating my explosive orgasm that’s drenching his sheets. I’m frozen in place, feeling my release dripping down the insides of my thigh. It takes me a moment to comprehend how much I’m shaking. I want to fully collapse…
But Lance isn’t done.
“So beautiful, C,” he says from behind me. He runs his hands over the curve of my ass, then down the outsides of my thighs. “I wish you could see yourself and how fucking perfect you look drenched in your cum.”
I sway my hips in his face. “Your turn.”
I moan when he pushes back into me, bracing myself, but the animalistic fucking is over. He enters me with slow, sweet strokes, as he coos over me. “I missed you, baby. So much. This sweet, wet pussy is mine. I’m going to take such good care of you.” He bends over me, his sweaty six-pack pressing into my back. Wrapping his hand around my throat, he guides me from my elbows, to upright on my hands. “Don’t you ever fucking hide from me again. I won’t survive it, C. I love you.”
I say nothing. Not even when he releases my throat. I keep grinding against him, trying to match his thrusts. I’m too spent and tender to get all worked up again. I haven’t been with a man since before Lance and I kissed in the break room months ago. Every time I go that long without sex, it’s like starting over. But I didn’t want anyone else after our lips touched. It’s like discovering your favorite flavor. Everything else pales in comparison.
I think we both always knew. Together, we’d be everything.
Why did he do this? Why did he break us?
Why am I blaming Lance?
I shake my head, forcing the reason right back out. I don’t want to think, just feel. And right now, I feel sore.
“Lance, I need you to come. It’s too much.”
“Okay, baby. Turn around and lie back. Give me those eyes.”
“No,” I say. “From behind. You can come wherever you want.”
He lets out a heavy exhale and stops moving. “Look at me.”
“I like it like this,” I insist.
“C, please look at me so I know I haven’t lost you.”
But you have…
Taking matters into my own hands, I throw myself back into him ferociously. He’s on his knees, almost still, while I expertly work my hips, trying to coax out his release. When I hear his sharp exhales, I clench with all my might around his cock, squeezing him until I hear his satisfied groan. He grabs my hips, his fingers digging desperately into my skin. Holding me still, he spills inside me, murmuring something I can’t make out.
After another moment, Lance falls backward on the bed, kicking his legs out. I peek behind me, surveying his sweaty, flushed skin, and the sheepish, sated smile he’s wearing.
He holds out one arm, inviting me into his embrace. “Come here, baby.”
But as the sex craze calms, my anger returns.
I crawl away from him to the edge of the bed and swing my legs around. I stand, causing Lance’s cum to spill down my thighs and drip onto his bedroom floor.
“Hey, where are you going?” he asks, pointing to the right. “Bathroom is that way.”
I say nothing in return as I make my way to the bedroom entrance.
“Cricket!” Lance exclaims, an edge of agitation in his voice. “You promised you’d stay.”
Hand on the door handle, I pause, but don’t bother to turn around. “You’re right. I did…I guess we’re both liars now.”
I leave his bedroom and slam the door shut behind me.