Deception, p.16
Deception, page 16
I settle into bed next to Dad. His computer is open to a spreadsheet and he has a chat window up where he’s talking to Gareth about one of their game acquisitions. I’m thankful that it’s nothing about me or Ford or Della.
“Did you sleep well last night?” Dad asks, taking hold of my hand. He runs his thumb over my pulse point.
Knowing him, he can probably tell if I’m lying just by seeing if my blood pumps faster. I keep my breathing even and nod. He squeezes my hand.
“Good.” He brings my hand up and kisses the back of it. “I know school has been a lot for you.”
“It’s fun,” I assure him. “Thank you for getting me in. I didn’t know how much I wanted to go to college until I got there.”
“I know you better than yourself. You know that.”
The room fills with silence. I don’t like his insinuation, but I could totally be reading into it, too. I’m on edge, so everything that comes out of his mouth feels like foreshadowing of what’s to come.
He doesn’t let go of my hand, keeping it locked tight in his grip. I feign tiredness and lean my head against his shoulder. The quiet may as well be an entire drumline banging in my ears. It’s deafening and maddening. Every word on the tip of my tongue feels like a trap. The silence, though, feels like I’m being exposed.
A sound from the doorway draws my attention. There, standing like an angry and powerful little god, my sister glowers at my father.
Not now, Della.
Read me a story, Landry. Her signed movements are sharp and demanding.
I lock eyes with my sister and give her a slight shake of my head. What is she doing? We both know it’s best if she avoids Dad at all costs.
“Della, come here,” Dad barks at her, making me jump in response.
Della flinches, not because she can hear his words, but more like she can feel the impact of them. The swat before the painful blow.
I start to get up, my heart in my throat, but Dad squeezes my hand until the bones feel like they’ll snap. A pained cry leaps from my throat. Della can’t hear it, but she must see the agony on my face because she obeys our father immediately, rushing to his side.
“Dad,” I plead, my voice more of a sob than anything.
He grabs Della by the front of her shirt the second she gets close and yanks her forward. Her green eyes are wide with terror.
I have to stop this.
“Daddy, please,” I croak. “She just needs a nap.”
He ignores me to lean into Della’s face. His laptop sits on his legs undisturbed like grabbing both his daughters is barely an interruption of his precious work.
“You will not be a disrespectful shit in my home,” Dad snarls at her. “Do you hear me?”
Her eyes have left his and are locked on mine, filled with tears and fear. Of course she doesn’t hear him since she’s not even looking at him. He releases my hand to grab hold of her chin, forcibly making her look at him and not me.
“I’m sick of your attitude problem,” he snaps. “Blatant disrespect and ignoring me when the situation suits you.”
She squirms in his hold, clearly hurting at the way he’s gripping her face. I tug at his arm, muttering pleading words, but to no avail.
“Dad, stop—”
He swings his elbow back. It hits me right in the mouth. The sharp, sudden pain has me falling back onto the bed. Dad curses and then little footsteps thud away.
She’s gone.
She got away.
I bring my throbbing hand up to touch my bottom lip that stings. Bright red crimson stains my fingertips. I’m bleeding.
Dad grunts in pain and then he’s positioned on his side. I can tell it hurts his ribs, but the concern in his stare is winning the battle. He fixates on my bloody mouth and his expression twists into one of horror.
“My God, sweetheart. What happened?”
You. You happened, Dad. You always happen.
He moves away briefly and then returns with a tissue. Gently and with the care of a loving father, he dabs at my lip, attempting to clean away the blood. I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to let the tears come. He’s stolen enough of those.
I can’t look at him.
Right now, all I can think about is hearing Ford’s voice. If he knew Dad hit me—albeit accidentally—he’d be pissed.
This is the problem with friends or liking a guy…you start to rely on them when times are tough. Someone to lean on or confide in. An escape.
“I’m so sorry,” Dad chokes out. “I keep screwing up with you. Ever since your Mom…”
Mom dying was the catalyst for my life turning upside down and turning into…this. Hell. Literal hell.
I can feel Dad’s fingers on my face, stroking and caressing, as he croons sweet, apologetic words. I hate this. I hate him. He kisses my bruised cheek.
Yeah, Dad, you did that too.
All the hurts, both inside and out, are from you.
Always you.
He’s too close—too heavy—too much. His soft kisses are just as abusive as his cruel backhanded smacks. I don’t want them. I don’t like the breathiness of them or the quantity. Anytime it gets to this point, I want to crawl into a hole and die. Horrible flashes of other times, worse than this, steal my breath and have bile creeping up my throat.
It never gets easier.
I can’t do this.
Everything feels worse right now. Maybe because I’ve had a sample of normalcy recently with Ford, every harsh reminder of my reality is a brutal stab to the chest.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Go away. Go see her.
Thoughts of Mom are always an escape. My memories of her are such happy ones and easy to snatch up when I can’t take this stupid life a second longer. Since I’m too overwhelmed by this moment, I slip to a happier time. Me and Mom sipping hot cocoa while we fuss over poinsettias to decorate the house with for a family Christmas party. It smells like cinnamon and apples, the pies in the oven a delicious aroma that makes my mouth water. Oh, it’s snowing outside. How beautiful—
A shrill ringing shreds my happy memory, thrusting me into the now. The cold, hard present that reeks of my father’s cologne. His mouth leaves my neck and he rolls away to grab the phone. Based on the sharp, angry words, something happened with work. He starts yelling at Gareth.
I’m awake.
Here.
Shaking so hard my teeth are chattering. I right my shirt and run out of the bed. Tripping over my own feet, I nearly faceplant. Dad ignores me, too busy barking out orders to Gareth, which is fine by me.
I can escape.
The rush to my bedroom is a disgusted blur. I lock my bedroom door behind me and then strip out of my clothes. The scalding water burning my flesh does nothing to erase the lips and roaming touches that don’t belong on my body. I scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin feels like it’s on fire.
I’m reminded of a time, years ago, where I curled up on the floor of this very shower in such severe pain I thought I was going to die. I’d watched blood color the water and slip down the drain wondering if I could disappear so easily. I don’t remember much about that day aside from Sandra scolding me for nearly freezing to death from staying under the icy spray for so long.
When the water grows cold, I shut it off, wrap up in a warm towel. I can’t shake the oily feeling and continue to tremble almost violently. Other times, I do my best to block it out and think of something else, but my efforts aren’t working this time.
What happened?
Am I broken?
I thought I was strong to endure such horrors, yet here I am losing my shit.
Because I deserve more than this. Being with Ford, I’ve begun to feel not only desired and wanted, but truly cared for. He’s what’s different.
God, I need Ford.
Scrambling from the bathroom, I locate my phone and then go to my dark closet. I crawl to the very back, sitting on some shoes and pressing my back against the wall. I dial his number and try to keep my teeth from chattering.
“Hey,” Ford greets, his voice warm and happy.
The strength I’d been harnessing melts away and I cling to his voice. I need him to hold me up. I’m so tired of holding myself up. I can’t do it anymore.
Tears burst out of me, an ugly sound of despair clawing out of my throat. No words come out. All I can hear are his reassuring words over and over again. I know he’s asking me questions, but I can’t answer them. His voice is enough. I just need his voice.
Until…
“I’m coming over. Give me fifteen minutes or so.”
I sniffle and pop open my eyes. “Y-You’re coming over?”
“You’re upset,” he growls. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”
Selfishly and probably stupidly, I choke out, “Hurry.”
Relief floods through me, though this probably isn’t the best idea. I don’t care. In this moment, I care about one thing. Ford. I need him to hold me and make me feel like I have someone besides a little kid on my side.
Someone strong.
Someone who cares.
Someone like Ford.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scout
She’s so happy.
Smiling and carefree.
I would smile too if I conned the richest man in New York to put a ring on my finger and put babies in me.
What does Ash have to worry about these days?
Certainly not me.
I’m no longer a threat in her world. Winston made sure of that. My fucked-up knees remind me daily.
She’s safe.
Except now. Not right now. She’s leaving their condo in the city, alone, heading to the baby shower Bryant told me about.
My car is parked on the street not fifty feet from the entrance of the building, giving me a prime view of when she exits. This almost seems too easy.
I’ve already scoped out the location of the restaurant. They don’t have a valet service, but they do have an alleyway that’s used for dropping off affluent clients. It’s private and quiet, however, not at all secure. I’ll make sure to haul ass over there so I can beat her there.
Then, when she’s not expecting it.
Surprise, sis.
I’m back.
Come to claim what’s mine…you.
She stalls, chatting with the doorman. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I tug it out and discover messages from Sparrow and Scout in our group text.
Sparrow: She’s bawling her eyes out!
Sully: What happened?
Sparrow: I don’t know. Trying to figure that out now.
Sparrow: She wants to see me. Fuck.
Sully: I’m on my way there.
I stare at their exchange, pissed that I wasn’t included on this rescue mission. It’s because they’re obsessed with her. They don’t want to fucking share.
Glancing up, I take one long look at Ash, trying to decide what I’m going to do. This is the best opportunity I’ve had in the past year. Am I really going to give it up to see what’s going on with Landry? To make sure I’m not being squeezed out?
“Fuck,” I growl, putting the vehicle in drive.
I peel away from the curb and slowly drive past where Ash is standing. She turns just as I’m driving by and sees me staring at her. The color bleeds from her face. Her entire body tenses.
With two fingers to my brow, I give her a salute and keep driving. My heart is pounding like a drum in my chest. Everything screams in me to pull a U-turn in the middle of the road to go back for her. To drag her into my car and strap her to the seat beside me.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
But Landry is also mine. She made that abundantly clear when she came all over my fingers. When she liked the brutality of my touch and whimpered so prettily. Knowing Sparrow and Sully are trying to keep her all for themselves is infuriating. Stingy pricks.
The entire drive to the Croft residential building I replay the tightness of Landry’s cunt, the taste of her juices, the sound of her moans. By the time I arrive, my dick is obscenely hard in my black jeans. I rub at my erection over the denim, trying to ease the need to come.
Out of time.
I can either rub one out with the valet watching, or I can see what Sully is getting up to with our girl. The valet man does a double take, frowning in confusion at me. Pulling out a wad of cash, I shove it in his hand.
“You’re not seeing double. You’re just tired. Keep it close by for me.”
He nods, eyes widening at the money. “Sure thing, man.”
I leave him to it and prowl inside the building. Keeping my head low, I avoid any people on the way to the elevator. My phone buzzes again.
Sully: She’s a wreck, man. Her lip is split. She went to grab her shoes and then we’re going to the gym here in the building so I can talk to her about what happened. I’ll keep you posted.
I quickly Google this building to learn which floor the gym is on. Once I locate it, I exit on that floor and make my way to the gym. There are a couple of people on the elliptical machines and stationary bikes, but the weight area, in a separate room, is empty. I slink past the people working and into the weight area to find a darkened corner behind a giant orange ball.
Now, all I need to do is wait.
Seconds later, Sully rounds the corner, Landry at his side, their hands linked together. Seeing them together like that lights a match inside me. It burns hot and fast, torching all thoughts but one.
Mine.
He sits down on a bench, straddling it, and urges her to sit in front of him, mirroring his position. Once she’s settled, he takes both her hands in his.
“Talk, honey. Tell me what happened.”
Her head is bowed, her hair hidden beneath the hood on her hoodie. I wish he’d push it back so I could see her face. I’m tempted to reveal myself just so I can see the shock in her pretty blue eyes reflected back at me.
“I’m just having a bad day.” Her bottom lip quivers. “A really bad day.”
“I can see that.” His voice is soft. So soft. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sully speak to anyone that way. Interesting. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t,” she whispers, her voice shaking.
“Honey,” Sully says, lifting her chin so she’s looking up at him, “you can. You’re hurt. You can trust me, remember?”
Rather than explaining to him what has her so upset, she cups his cheeks, drawing him to her. His lips are gentle as he kisses her supple mouth. It’s as though he has to handle her with kid gloves or she’ll break. I know for a fact she can take rough handling and barely crack.
She’s much tougher than she lets on.
His hunger for her wins out. Grabbing her ass, he pulls her up into his lap so her legs wrap around his middle. A needy moan escapes her, singing straight to my cock. As quietly as I can, I pull down my zipper and unbutton my jeans. I pull my throbbing dick into my hand, eager for some sort of release.
Sully’s massive hands squeeze her ass as he moves her against his lap. They’re dry humping like there aren’t people just around the corner. So dangerous, but so hot.
“We have to talk about this,” Sully murmurs. “As good as this feels, it’s only putting a bandage on the problem.”
For fuck’s sake.
Don’t be a pussy, man.
She ignores him, kissing him with all the fiery passion she possesses. Sully shoves one hand down into the back of her yoga pants, his palm splayed out over her ass cheek. This must feel good because she starts panting harder. I stroke my dick in tandem with the sounds she’s making. I’d kill for some lube right now, but since I don’t have any, I make do with licking my hand a couple of times to get it nice and slick.
“Ford,” she hisses, breaking from their kiss so she can look at him.
With his free hand, he yanks down her hood, revealing her messy, damp hair. He stares at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
These fuckers are obsessed.
I know obsession when I see it.
“I’m going to come.” Her whispered words sound surprised. “Ford, oh my…” She tilts her head back, baring her pretty neck.
I want to bite it and suck it and wrap my hand around it.
Mine.
Mine.
My breathing comes out quick and harsh. If they weren’t so consumed in one another, they’d hear me. I know the second she comes because her body tenses before trembling. She swallows down the cry of her orgasm as not to alert anyone.
He starts to lift her hoodie, giving me a flash of her small bra-less tits, but she stops him, dragging it back down.
“Ford,” she says, breathing heavily. “We can’t do this right now.”
Right now. Not never.
Images of her trussed up and captive in my bed are too much. I come silently, my semen hitting the orange ball with a barely audible patter. While I tuck my dripping dick back into my jeans, I keep my stare fixated on them from my hiding spot.
They’re so enamored in each other.
Which means she’s just as enamored with me.
My turn. My fucking turn.
I’m about to stand up and demand my turn when some doofus walks into the weight area. As soon as he noticed the two of them, his face blanches and he stumbles back.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I, uh, I’ll leave.”
The dumb shit hurries to leave them to their dry fucking, but the moment is lost. Landry is already pulling from my brother and standing. He thrums with need, his dick trying to tear through his jeans as he reaches for her.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she mutters to herself. “This was a mistake. I was upset but if he finds me gone.” Panic flashes over her features making her reddened skin pale to a ghastly white. “I have to go back home.”
“Honey,” Sully growls. “Let me go with you. To make sure it’s safe.”
“No, lover boy.” She smacks his hand that’s still reaching for her. “I appreciate…”
