Leave Me Love (4 page)

How many of them had been touched by terror? How many knew love, real love? How many had a happy home to go back to? I imagined all the families in the city, kids safe with their parents, thinking nothing bad could ever happen to them.

I hoped they were right. I hoped nothing bad would ever touch their lives, that they would never know what it felt like to fear for your life. To see the ones you loved most in the world killed in front of you. To never know who to trust.

Ash stroked my hair and pressed his lips against the top of my head. "You look far away. And sad."

I turned into him, resting my hand on his chest. "I was just thinking. Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if just one thing, one moment, had been different? If you'd made a different choice, what would that have changed?"

He nodded, his eyes unfocused. "I do. I have." He refocused on me. "But it doesn't pay to live in the past. We'll never know what could have been different, so all we can do is move forward and make the best choices we can now."

This time I nodded and, standing in front of him, I held out my hand and chose. "You never showed me your bedroom."

His smile brought out the dimple in his chin. "You're right. I was saving the best for last."

He led me through the quiet house and up the stairs to the third level. I couldn't imagine living here alone. Too many rooms. Too much space. I'd feel lost. Maybe that's what he liked about it.

My heart beat more frantically the closer we came to his room. We'd had sex, the night I killed Lucky. A hot, messy, needy affair that mixed sweat and blood and pushed away my pain with the endorphins of climax. And we'd had an intense moment in the hospital, when he'd bathed me. But this would be the first time we made love. This would be the first slow, deliberate joining of our bodies in something more than primal physical need, more than a one-sided pleasure. It seemed each time we became intimate, it was a first in some new way.

We stood in front of a mahogany door. "Close your eyes and wait here just one second." He disappeared into his room.

The darkness behind my eyelids turned a burnt red, flashing strange lights into my brain, sending a surge of panic through me. When he came back I was grateful, as I'd become afraid of the darkness in my own mind.

He held my hand, which I wiped against my pants to hide evidence of my nerves, and we walked into his room.

Candles of every size and shape glowed softly throughout. At the foot of the mahogany king-sized bed a fireplace burned bright with dancing flames skittering off the textured cream walls.

The room stretched wide and long, but had relatively little furniture in it. Ash liked open space, and his room reflected that. The bed, the fireplace, the side dressers on either side of the bed each with a small lamp, the large art pieces taking center stage on the sparse walls—each dramatic and engaging. A balcony overlooked the city and had a table and two chairs, and a walk-in closet held his clothes, all meticulously organized by style and color. The bathroom featured a Jacuzzi tub that could easily hold three adults, and a shower made for two with nozzles everywhere. I imagined sinking into the tub, soaking away my aches and pains, and smiled. Ash wrapped his hands around my waist. "I see we'll have to utilize the bath while you're here."

"You have an amazing house."

"It's more amazing when you're in it," he said.

We moved back into the bedroom, and I noticed red rose petals spread over the black bedspread. "You thought of everything," I said.

Next to the bed were two glasses of champagne and a bowl of strawberries. He handed me a glass and I sipped, enjoying the fizzy bubbles chasing themselves down my throat.

He pulled out a remote and with a click of a button music embraced us from everywhere—soft, lilting piano, something I'd never heard before.

"I wrote this," he said, his eyes devouring me. "For you."

"I didn't know you composed." I listened more carefully and wondered what emotions he'd brought to this piece with its minor chords and sad melody.

"I have many secrets," he said.

"It sounds like a sad song."

He pulled me closer to him, our bodies pressed against each other. "Sometimes love feels sad."

My breath caught. "Do you love me?" I asked, feeling thirteen again, nervous about my first crush.

He kissed me deeply. "I do," he said. "I love you."

A pressure inside me unlocked, like air being let out of a tire. "I love you, too."

Those were the last words we spoke as we peeled off each other's clothes slowly, deliberately, our eyes taking in everything, our hands exploring each other. We stood in front of each other naked, his cock hard and urgent in its need, his hands sliding down my body, thumbs grazing my aching nipples as his hands cupped my breasts, sending electric currents through me. I dropped my hands to his chest, running my fingers over his rock hard chest and abs, following the trail of hair from navel to cock until I brushed against him.

He moaned and I stroked him, finding a boldness I didn’t know I had. I dropped to my knees, missing his hands on me but wanting to feel him in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tender line of skin up to the head, swirling my tongue around him before taking him into my mouth, sucking and licking as I stroked his base and ran my fingers over his balls.

His fingers dug into my hair and I could tell he resisted the urge to push deeper into my mouth, so I did it for him, taking him as far as I could without gagging. He was too big, too thick and long to deep throat, but I used my hand, sucking, licking, grazing my teeth very gently over his head then pulled back, trailing kisses and licks down his shaft and over his balls.

"I want you," he said, lifting me to the bed, laying me over the rose petals as he spread my legs and dipped his head between them. His lips and teeth teased my thighs as he fondled my breasts with his hands. When he licked my clit my hips bucked up, my pussy so sensitive and ready for him I could tell I would come fast and hard. But he wouldn't let me—instead he teased and pulled away, licking and sucking, then paid attention to my thighs, massaging my body, rising to suck on a nipple or kiss me deeply, always bringing me to the edge and then retreating, leaving me desperate and begging for more.

He played this game for what felt like hours, but likely was only a few minutes. When he finally slid two fingers inside me and used his tongue on my clit without pulling away, I came harder than I could have imagined, harder than I'd ever come before in my life, and while I rode that orgasm, he pushed himself into me, stroking my clit as he fucked me, making me come again and again, soaking his cock in my essence as he slammed into me harder and faster.

I couldn't think of anything, couldn't worry about anything. All I could feel was him, his body, his hands, him inside of me. He was everything. We were everything. Nothing else existed.

When he pulled out I whimpered, and he laughed and guided me to my knees, spreading my legs as he took me from behind.

We hadn't done this position before and everything felt new and different. He felt deeper and the spot he hit inside me, oh my God. We found our rhythm and I thrust my hips into him as hard as he thrust into me, our bodies crashing together over and over in a primal beat of surrender and pleasure and crescendo. 

His hands gripped my hips as he pulled me and pushed himself. My tender nipples brushed against the bed and the soft silkiness of the rose petals, adding to the pleasure as yet another orgasm built in me. His hand moved to my pussy, spreading me and rubbing against me as he fucked me, and I came again. God did I come. With him. Together. Over the edge and beyond.

The fire crackled, warming the cool night as I lay with my head on his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed to its normal patter. I dozed for a time, and maybe he did too, but nature called and I reluctantly left his bed to use the bathroom. When I returned, he was propped up in bed, his eyes following me as I crawled back in with him, letting him wrap his arm around me.

"You're amazing," he said.

"So are you. I feel so… happy, so safe here."

His arm tightened around me. "I'm glad. I want to keep you safe, Catelyn. More than anything."

I twisted to face him, my mind returning to harder topics. "Ash, I need to ask you something, and I need you to promise to tell me the truth."

I could feel his heart beat a fraction faster under my hand. "Okay," he said.

"Professor Cavin, my advisor, he gave me some of my mom's old stuff. Pictures, notes, that kind of thing. And in it, there was something about you. He said she sent you to juvie when you were a kid." I let the sentence hang there, not sure what I wanted to ask him.
Why didn't you tell me you knew my mother? Did you kill her? Do you know who did?

He took a deep breath and straightened his back, but didn't let go of me, which I counted as a good sign. "Catelyn. Cat, I did know your mom. Alice, she always had me call her Alice, she sent me to juvie. It's true. Detective Gray arrested me and she convicted me, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me."

That surprised me. "What did you do?"

"Grand theft auto," he said. "I went joyriding with some friends, took a car that didn't belong to us. We were drunk, high on something, and stupid as fuck. Your mom, she was more than just the DA on my case. She saw better things for me, and she wanted to scare me onto the straight and narrow. She also wanted me to get help, to get off drugs and find my way. If she hadn't done what she did and made sure I got into a program that actually focused on rehabilitation versus punishment, my life would be very different right now. I owe a lot to your mom. When I found out what happened to her, it crushed me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He frowned. "It's not a time in my life I like to think about or talk about, Catelyn. But I should have told you. I'm sorry."

"So, you're not mad at her?" This wasn't the story I was expecting from him, but I could tell he meant every word. He missed her. He cared about her.

Ash kissed my head. "No, I'm mad at the person who killed her. And now I'm in love with her daughter and there isn't anything I won't do to protect you, Cat."

Fears set aside for the time being, I settled back into his arms, but then noticed the time. "Oh, crap. I have to go, I'm sorry. This has been amazing."

He frowned. "Stay the night. I'll take you home tomorrow."

"I can't. I have to work tonight."

"You're working. Tonight? The phone sex?"

I didn't want to have this fight. "Ash, I still need a job. I still need to make money. I'm sorry."

"Fine. Get dressed, I'll take you home."

BRIDGETTE HADN'T RETURNED
when I got back to the dorms. Just as well since I had to mentally prepare for a night of getting strangers off. Ash had kissed me and promised to see me soon, disappointment in his voice. I didn't blame him. I'd be pissed if he were about to talk sex with other girls all night. The very idea made me sick to my stomach and my headache returned, buzzing behind my eyes, making the lights dance around like fireflies.

When the phone rang, my mouth went dry. I reached for it, then yanked my hand back like I'd been electrocuted. The phone rang again. I reached for it again, my hand hovering over it uncertainly. Finally, I picked it up.

Donna's voice calmed me down. "Hey, Cat. How are you, sweetie?"

I'd never met Donna, but I always imagined her as a pretty girl with long brown hair and light eyes. I had no idea if that was remotely true, but I needed something to visualize when we spoke. "Hi, Donna. I'm okay. Ready to be back to work."

"You sure? You can take more time. The job will be here when you're ready. I can't even imagine what you've been through." She clucked her tongue.

"I'm sure. It's not like it's physically demanding. Best job I could have, really."

"Okay, well, if you're sure…"

"I'm sure."
I'm
not
sure. I could be ruining the best thing that's ever happened to me, but what choice do I have?

When she hung up, I shivered, cold, and dug through my dresser for thicker socks and a sweatshirt. Once I was sufficiently layered and propped up in bed with a book, a notebook, my phone and my blanket, I took a deep breath and readied myself for my first call. I hoped it would be someone normal and boring and lonely, someone who just needed a nice voice to chat with for a few hours but required very little in the way of sexual stimulation. Those calls came more than you'd think, and I needed one tonight.

But the voice on the other end of the receiver didn't belong to a lonely guy who didn't need sex. No, not at all.

"Hi, Cat. I've missed our talks."

My heart thrummed in my chest. "What are you doing calling here?"

"What do you mean? I thought I was your favorite?" Ash's voice teased.

"Ash, you can't call here, this is my job."

"I know, and I'm a man with needs. I'm a paying client, so you're stuck with me, Cat."

"This is ridiculous." I snuggled under my covers and couldn't help but smile. The only voice I'd wanted to hear tonight had called me.

"No it's not. Besides, my girlfriend bailed on me tonight, and I'm a highly sexual person. I need you, Cat."

I stared at the posters on my wall, pictures of all the places Ash and Cat had visited on their phone calls.
Our
phone calls. I'd torn them down and then put them back up. I was glad I'd kept them. "And what would your girlfriend think of you calling a phone sex operator?"

"I'm sure she wouldn't have a problem with it, considering she is one. That would be hypocritical of her, wouldn't it?"

Once again, the thought of Ash calling anyone but me made me sick, and I felt horrible for keeping this job. "You have a point. Well, since this is your dime, what can I do for you, or to you, tonight?"

"Do you ever do threesomes?"

His request threw me off. "What do you mean?"

I could hear the smirk in his voice. "You see, my girlfriend is smoking hot, but I'm also quite fond of you. I'd love to take you both at once. Maybe have her ride my cock while you sit on my face and I eat you. What do you think?"

My brain could not mesh that image together, since I was obviously both people. I just laughed. "You're a perv, you know that?"

"Ah, but I'm
your
perv."

"That you are."

We spent hours talking about everything from politics to our favorite animals. Then Ash pulled up something on his computer, a list of questions he wanted both of us to answer.

"Would you rather… get lost in space for thirty years, only to come home to everyone you know dead, or become immortal and outlive everyone you will ever love?"

I thought about it. "Become immortal. At least then I can spend time with the ones I love. You?"

"Get lost in space. That way I could still die a mortal death and join them in the afterlife."

He inhaled something, his cigar probably, before he asked the next question. "Would you rather eat cow testicles or live cockroaches?"

"Ugh. Are the testicles cooked and marinated?"

"Yes."

"Then I'd pick them and pretend they're something else."

He exhaled. "I'm going to have to go with cockroaches. I'm not putting someone else's balls in my mouth."

I laughed. "You're such a man."

"So glad you noticed, sweetheart."

"Oh, I noticed."

"Okay," he said, "next question. Would you rather be sprayed with gallons of tar, or dunked into a tub of semen donated by thousands of different men and beasts?"

"Gross. You have a sick brain. I guess the semen. It's supposed to be good for the skin and certainly would be easier to clean off."

"I'm going to have to say—"

"Let me guess," I interrupted. "The tar, because you won't be covered in another man's semen."

"You're learning, Law School."

He hadn't called me that in a long time. It brought back memories of our early run-ins. Meetings that weren't as random as I'd thought. Did it matter? In the end, we fit together.

"Next question," he said. "Would you rather walk across burning coals or be forced to stay awake for three days?"

"Walk across burning coals."

"Me too," he said.

This went on for hours, until the sun came up and my shift ended. I yawned and turned my pillow over to the cool side. "Are you going to do this every night?"

"Every night you work," he said.

"You know The Pleasure Palace keeps most of the money. I only get a small amount of what you're paying."

"Exactly," he said. "So you should just let me help you. Look at tonight. We could have been together, holding each other, saving money, kissing, touching, making love, drinking champagne in front of the fire."

God, he made it so hard.

"I'll see you soon, Mr. Davenport."

"See you soon, Law School. Dream of me."

"Oh, I will."

The room felt so empty, so quiet, when we hung up. I wished I'd stayed with him, drinking champagne in front of the fire.