Nightfall (19 page)

She couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, not in the end. He had enough class that he didn’t do anything beyond take another sip of his coffee with a particular sort of determination, but she felt the sting all the same.

“He’s no good for you, Roxie,” Matt said, his voice low and soft. “I can’t say that he’s bad for you, I don’t have any idea if that’s true, but I know he’s no good. How long do you think he’s going to stay here? Sooner or later, he’ll be on his way, and you’ll either uproot yourself and hate him for it, or stay here and hate all of us for not being him.” He squeezed her hand, and she looked up at him again. “We love you, Roxie. Trust us. Okay?”

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t think of anything to say. She just let the silence grow, awkward and uncomfortable, until Matt glanced at his watch, and blatantly lied about needing to be some place. She let him give her a quick kiss on the cheek as he left her there, in the diner. She would have let him before all of this happened. And there was something about who he was, about the possibilities that he represented. Julian made her feel alive and on fire, but Matt left her feeling safe. Protected. Walking away would be a foolish choice. It wasn’t like she was just keeping him in the wings. She’d been honest with him, as honest as she could be, about her feelings. She didn’t love him.

But maybe—maybe their friendship would be enough. Maybe she didn’t need the kind of blind passion that she found with Julian. No one really lived up to a romance novel, after all. Her own parents barely spoke to each other if they could help it, hardly at all since they’d learned how to text last year. Partnership was about more than just lust and desire. It was about being steady, being strong, being reliable. It was about being dependable. It was about not being a freaking monster.

Her feet started moving without her consent. She started to walk.

She wandered for a bit. She found the bench where she and Julian had sat, and he’d kissed her the first time. She sat there again, breathing in the energy they’d left behind. When she stood up again, she knew exactly where she was going, but she spent a while pretending that she was just going for a roam. She didn’t ever really believe it, but she pretended anyway.

When she found herself outside Julian’s house—as if she hadn’t intended to get there with every step—she stared up at it for a long time. Once she walked up the steps, there would be no turning back. She knew that well enough.

Every day since she’d seen him, in the hospital and outside of it, she’d craved him with every molecule of her being. She’d woken from dreams on the cusp of orgasm, her fingers sliding into her cleft, chasing the sensation, but never quite finding release. The third time it happened, her pussy clenching with need and want and desperate angry desire, she pulled her pillow over her face and screamed.

It didn’t make her feel any better. She’d given up earlier in the morning and taken a shower, using the showerhead to force a vicious, efficient series of orgasms. They were nothing like he’d given her, but she was at least able to take a breath without imagining his cock plunging into her.

He’d come charging into her house the other night, ready to save her. She and Izzy had already taken Susan down, of course, but he didn’t know that. And Izzy had collapsed into her mother’s arms while he’d come straight to her, wrapping his arms around her and clinging to her. It was a strange sensation, feeling that precious. That incredibly crucial to him. After such a short time, especially.

She wanted to walk up the steps and submit to him entirely, give herself up to him, give him anything he wanted. She also wanted to run away, and never see him again.

She couldn’t make up her mind.

After a while, the curtain in the front window twitched, and a moment after that, the front door opened. She thought he’d walk out to her, cross the street and take her hand, taking the choice from her. In a way, she thought that would be lovely. But no. He’d made that incredibly clear at every step of the way. So when he opened the door and walked halfway down the driveway before he stopped to examine the flowers lining the asphalt, she wasn’t really surprised.

It wouldn’t hurt anything to cross the road, of course. What harm could that possibly do?

When he was an arm’s reach away, he stretched his hand out to her without turning his head to look at her. She didn’t hesitate before she twined her fingers into his, and let him draw her in under his arm. That choice was easy. It was everything that was going to come after this that would be difficult.

“I honestly wasn’t sure I’d see you again,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure if you would either.”

“What brought you then?”

There was no point in anything other than the truth. “In your favor? You make me feel things I thought only belonged in romance novels. It’s not just about the orgasms. You make me feel—it feels like you pay attention to me. Like you attend to me, and the things I want.”

“And working against me?”

She shuddered as she thought of it. Somehow, as he’d sat beside her for two days, they’d managed to completely avoid this topic of conversation. Granted, she hadn’t been exactly eager to revisit it. “You killed a woman in front of me. You looked at me with your face covered with her blood. I can’t forget that. And it’s not fair to try and pretend that I can have one without the other. You are who you are, and I don’t want to ask you to change that. But I don’t know if I can be with you. I don’t know if I can stand never knowing who is going to be trying to kill you next. Knowing that I’m a target just because I love you.”

“Do you love me?”

She sighed, rubbing at her temples with her free hand. “I don’t even know. That’s the part I hate. I don’t know what I feel about you. I don’t think I’ve had a chance to decide. To really figure it out. It’s been a handful of days since I met you? It feels like a lifetime, and it also feels like five minutes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want to run for the hills.”

He smiled, but the expression didn’t light his eyes. “What can I do for you, Roxanne? How can I help to make this easier?”

“Kiss me,” she said, pushing the hesitation out of her mind. “I want to be yours tonight. The rest— I don’t know. I can’t promise you anything.”

“I don’t need you to,” he said. He pulled gently on the hand he already held, drawing her into his arms. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight. She came up on her toes to kiss him, and then squeaked gently as he pulled her up off her toes, lifting her up to the extent of his arms. She laughed as he spun her in circles, like she weighted nothing at all—and to him, she probably didn’t—and she dropped her head back, letting her hair spin out like a child. The laughter was dragged out of her by the centripetal force, and she felt cleaner as it spun out of her. When she pulled herself up again, her hips were level with his chest, his arms tight below her ass, and her breasts were in his face. He slowed his spin, lowering her just enough so that she could put her hands on his cheeks and bring their lips together.

It was like the world started to spin again. Instead of the flood water rush, the soft summer breeze of him fluttered through her hair. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, so soft against her mouth that she could feel the words as well as hear them.

“I want to kneel for you,” she said. “I want to kneel down and do what you tell me to.”

She felt him go entirely still as his gaze locked on hers. “Are you sure? This isn’t something I want you to say if you’re not sure, Roxie. If you don’t—if you don’t want to kneel, it’s just abuse, and that’s not what I’m looking for. That’s not what I want to do to you.”

“What do you want to do to me? Tell me.”

He hissed softly and lowered her down until her toes touched the ground. “I want to show you what release can be. I want to show you how deep you can go if you’re willing. I want you to be—” He stopped himself, and when she stroked a finger down his jawline, hoping to encourage him to speak, he just shook his head. “Will you come inside with me?”

“For tonight,” she said. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

He nodded, letting her go, though he kept his fingers twined with hers. “That’s all I ask.”

Inside, the house looked different. Brighter, airier. The look in Julian’s eyes, however, was anything but soft. “Rules are the same,” he said, and the growl that underpinned his tone made her shiver and soaked her panties, “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop. Yes?”

“Yes,” she whispered. When she’d said it before, a thrill of fear and apprehension had run through her body. Now, as she stared into his green eyes, she felt anticipation, but no fear. Nothing even close to it.

She thought he might push her down to her knees, or order her to the bedroom. Or press her against the wall here and begin to kiss her. His falling to his own knees shocked her immensely. “Julian—?”

He shushed her with a look, and lifted the hem of her skirt. “I’m so glad you wore this today,” he murmured as he leaned forward and ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh. “So much more convenient than jeans.” He didn’t stop as he neared the edge of her panties. His tongue ran over the cotton, making her hiss, and her knees shook.

He did ease her backward then, pressing her until her back was against the wall. They’d barely made it inside the house, and the large glass panel on the front door wasn’t frosted. Anyone who walked by would see her, see him, if they looked. “Julian—” Her voice was thready and thin as his tongue teased over her wet pussy, soaking the cotton even further.

He paused for a moment and gave her a stern look. The fact that he was on his knees in front of her somehow didn’t mute it at all. “Are you going to tell me to stop?”

She shook her head.

His fingers pinched the lowest part of her ass viciously, and she whimpered. “Then stop fussing and enjoy yourself.” He watched her for just a moment to gauge her reaction. The pinch stung, and she could feel the kind of soreness that would likely form a bruise later. She didn’t expect the thrill that rushed through her at the contact, the gasping, exhilarated rush of the pain, and the fact that he’d done it to her, and the shock of wanting him to do it again.

He saw the acceptance in her eyes, and smiled. “I don’t know why you keep wearing panties when you come to see me.”

They were plain cotton, nothing fancy. This morning, getting dressed, she’d been far more convinced that she wasn’t going to walk here than she’d been on the walk itself. “You’re going to have to buy me more if you keep this up.”

His eyes narrowed, considering, and then he nodded. “More than worth it,” he said. His fingers didn’t even have to clench; he tore them off her like they were made of paper. “Mmm,” he whispered, “You smell so amazing.” His tongue darted out, parting her lower lips, and she cried out, finding herself dancing on the brink already, all that pent up attention that she hadn’t been able to release on her own soaring into her body, centering in her clit. Her knees were weak and his hands came to her ass, supporting her.

If anyone saw them, it would be so obvious what was happening. Her back arched as he ran his tongue through her slit, skillfully avoiding the swollen nubbin of her clit even though it was begging for his attention. She ground against his face, feeling the gentle rumble of his chuckle as he let her move, let her take what she wanted.

The orgasm came fast and thick, running through her like syrup. He hadn’t touched her clit, or slipped inside of her with his fingers or tongue, and it wasn’t enough, it was nowhere near enough. She found herself still gasping, still wanting more. She reached down to find her own damn clit with her fingers, figuring he’d take the hint, but he grabbed her wrist in a grip that felt like steel and pinned her arm behind her. Her breath rushed faster as his eyes locked on hers. He shook his head slowly. “That was your freebie,” he said quietly. “The rest, you’re going to have to work for.”

He left the tatters of her panties in the hallway and led her up the hall, up the stairs, to his bedroom. There, he undressed her with incredible slowness, stripping off her tank top, unfastening her bra, skimming her skirt down off her slips. He folded each article neatly, piling them on top of his bureau. He shed his shirt, but kept his jeans on. She took a moment to admire the way they hung on his hips, the vee of his abdominal muscles as they directed her attention down to the bulge in the front of his denim.

“I want to tie your arms. Is that all right with you?”

She let the words sink in for a moment and let herself consider the question. The fear was starting to swirl through her again, but instead of leaving her feeling frightened and paralyzed, she felt exhilarated. Excited. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll say stop if I need you to stop.”

He nodded. There was a trunk in the corner of the room. He reached into it and pulled out a coil of dark green, velvety-looking cord. It was long, she could tell that much. He crossed back to her, and she felt the energy in the room shifting slightly, slowly. Everything was darker, cooler. Every movement he made was deliberate. Reverential.

He stood behind her. She expected him to grab for her hands, but instead, she felt the coil of cord—soft and silky—brushing over her skin, tracing the length of her spine. He ran it over the creases under her ass, down her legs, then around to the front, tracing up her shins, her thighs. It slipped to the inside of her thighs and moved between them. The coil was thick enough, heavy enough, that she whimpered when it brushed over her swollen and eager flesh. Her hips bucked, and he slapped her ass gently when she moved. “Stay still,” he said. There was no question to his voice, no point of negotiation. Just demand.

“I’m sorry,” she said. After a moment, she whispered “Master,” almost too quietly. He heard, though, and she saw the corner of his mouth tip up in a smile.

“You’re forgiven this time,” he said. “But next time, I won’t be kind.”

She nodded her understanding, and he rubbed the coil of cord over her body again. She sighed, fighting to keep still. And then he pulled free one single loop of the cord, parting her lower lips with his fingers, and sliding the loop over her eager and wet sex. She sighed again, biting her lip and clenching her muscles to keep her hips still. That made the sensation more intense, and he was laughing again, that dark and deep sound as he watched her fight for stillness.