Someone to Love (35 page)

Cruise pulls his cheek back with a smoldering
look of seduction. His brows dip in a V, revealing the sinister
intent brewing behind those blue topaz lenses.

Every intimate part of me is quivering,
cheering on my newfound carnal revolution, and now here I am,
standing in front of the god of Garrison in the exact amount of
clothing I was born in.

“Down,” he instructs.

I get on my knees, and he pulls my head back.
Instinctively, I know this is going to hurt, and I want it to. I
want to feel everything Cruise has to offer—all that he’s willing
to thrust my way.

He steps into me and unbuttons his jeans. He
flicks at his zipper and gives the impression of a wicked grin.

“With your teeth,” he commands.

And I do.

Cruise launches toward me, smooth and hard. I
take him up in my mouth and feel a groan echo throughout his body.
My lips move over his heated skin with my tongue pulling long
strokes in obedience to his movements. He takes in a ragged breath,
his body bowed back with pleasure. His fingers rake through my
hair. His hips beg to sway with ecstasy, but I’ve bound him just
like he’s bound me.

Cruise and I were awakening in one another a
new dimension of vulnerability—of trust. This dark corner of
fantasy still holds the underpinnings of our affection, the lust
inside us detonating on a cellular level. Cruise brought the
gunpowder and I brought the matches. We’re varnishing a new layer
of intimacy over our relationship as the room burns around us. This
invisible fire rages through us—exhilarating, as if we had
harnessed a chariot and rode through the sun.

Cruise carefully pulls me up to him long
before he trembles to completion.

“Bend over.” He rasps it out as a simple
demand, and I relax into him, already lost in a sensual haze. “Bend
over
.” He says it curt this time, a nefarious smile hedging
on his lips. It comes out a strict order that might have
consequences attached if I don’t comply, so I lie over the bed and
feel the cool of the comforter glide against my chest, my stomach
retracts from its touch.

Cruise gently kicks out my feet until my legs
are amply parted, and suddenly I’m regretting ever laying eyes on
these demented chains. I imagine what I must look like with my body
splayed out like this, him hovering from above with an eagle eye
view, and I feel vulnerable—far more so than simply being naked
could ever provide.

Cruise slides his heated hands over my back,
down my bare bottom, and between my thighs. He glides a finger in
and out of my body as I writhe over the bed, leaving me
uncontrollably aroused.

“I’m going to make you come, Kenny.” He says
it plain, as a fact. “What do you think about that?” He runs his
thumb over the delicate folds and enlivens my pleasure points until
my throat constricts.

He leans in with his searing hot skin raking
up against my thigh. He runs the pad of his fingers softly over me
before plunging in again with dynamic force.

“Do you want more?” His voice rumbles through
me. It echoes through my bones as my body waits for that very
thing.

I let out a breath, unable to answer.

Cruise spins out delicious circles over me
until my breathing grows erratic. With every writhing movement, he
tightens the reins just enough until I let out a cry, and my body
spasms uncontrollably. I spiral into a beautiful delirium that I
never want to end. I try to cinch my legs, but he blocks me with
his knees. Cruise guides his body into mine with a violent force
that sends me choking for air. My mouth rakes against the bed from
the brilliant shock of pleasure. He thrust inside me, over and
over, pulling me back by the chain until my back arches into him.
He slides his hand down over me again, and I explode, this time
with Cruise—the two of us lost in ecstasy, perfectly in sync. He
collapses over me, shaking and trembling, pressing himself in
deeper until his breathing is restored.

Cruise rolls next to me. His eyes shine like
glass as he pulls me in.

“You’re a little vixen, you know that?” He
seals the sentiment with a careful kiss that dissolves any doubt
that Blair may have tried to plant.

A loud knock explodes over the front door,
and a familiar female voice calls out my name.

“Who the hell is that?” Cruise glances in the
direction of the chaos with a slight look of alarm.

“I believe
that
is my mother.”

Cruise

“Your mother?” I glance down at Kenny, locked
in chains, looking more sex slave than angelic daughter. I send a
911 text to Molly to retrieve Kenny’s mom and walk her over to the
big house while I try to unleash her daughter from her self-imposed
stocks and chains.

We make our way to the kitchen table as I
work at freeing her from the device.

“Nice,” I say, unhinging the last of the
leashes from around the collar with a set of needle nose pliers.
“And that’s all I can do.”

“What am I supposed to tell my mom?” She
clasps at the metal necklace still latched around her neck. Kenny
looks pretty hot with a heavy metal choker, but I’m sure now’s not
the time to point that out.

“Tell her it’s a fad.” I give a bleak smile.
“Or wear a turtleneck. I have one you can borrow.”

Kenny is wrapped in a towel and barefoot.
She’s got a row of spikes encircling her neck, and my cock is
ticking back to life at the sight of her. If it weren’t for the
unexpected company, I wouldn’t resist the effort.

“I’ll look ridiculous in a turtleneck.” She
chews on her lip. “Besides, she’ll grow suspicious if I try to hide
it. I need to work it.” She speeds off to the bedroom to presumably
pull off the miracle of “working it,” and I make use of myself by
putting the flowers I bought in a vase.

I take a breather as I wait for the water to
fill. Outside the kitchen window, a three-quarter moon spreads its
light over the snowy world. I think back to the fairytales I used
to read to Molly. The princes and the princesses. Kenny is the
princess in my fairytale. Although, it’s a slightly sadomasochistic
fairytale at the moment. And fairytales always have a happy
ending—not even Blair can ruin that. They also come complete with a
witch, and I think I’ve just discovered Blair’s new role in my
life. Let’s hope that bucket of truth I doused her with evaporates
her to nothing.

Kenny steps back in the room wearing a low
cut sweater, jeans, and the boots I gifted her with. Her dark hair
frames her face, and the spiked cuff around her neck looks a lot
more costume jewelry and a lot less obscene paraphernalia.

“Well done.” I wrap my arms around her, still
amped from that heated exchange. “Does your mom know about us?”

“Not yet.” She pulls her lips to the side.
“I’ll let her know we’re dating, but maybe I should ease her into
the engagement. I’d hate to kill her on her first night here.”

“Fair enough.” I narrow into her with a
devilish grin. “Whips and chains—good or great?”

Kenny bites down a smile and pulls me in.
“Spectacular.”

Kenny and I walk through the dark night and
into the bed and breakfast at the top of the property. Mom is
already settled at the dining room table with a woman who I presume
is Kenny’s mother, and my eyes have to readjust a moment as I spot
my father seated beside her.

“Dad?” I’m dazed seeing him here in my
childhood home without my mother shouting at him at the top of her
lungs for child support.

Molly enters the room with a pot roast and
potatoes as if she were about to break out an entire Thanksgiving
dinner.

“Dad?” Kenny’s mother touches her hand to her
chest. “Oh my God, is this Pennington?” She leaps to her feet and
engulfs both Kenny and me in an all-encompassing hug. She has the
same dark hair as Kenny, although short, and her eyes are a honeyed
brown.

“Nope—not Pen,” I say, pulling back. “Cruise
Elton.” I offer her a hand, and she gives a light shake, unsure of
what to make of me.

“This is my oldest.” Dad pipes up and
something warms in me. I’m not sure I’ve ever been introduced as
his offspring before. “Kendall, nice to see you again.” He offers
her an embrace and slaps me on the back for good measure.

“Oh my goodness!” Her mouth rounds out with
surprise. “Little Cruisy! I’m so sorry I didn’t put two and two
together. I’m Karen. So nice to meet you.” She looks to Mom and
closes her eyes a moment. “And, you’re
Samantha
! What a
small world.”

“Just Sam.” Mom winks as everyone finds a
seat.

“Kendall?” Her mother makes a face that
suggests she should explain a few things.

“Oh…” Kenny swallows hard before taking a
seat next to me. “Cruise and I are…um just friends.”

Friends? I’m not sure I was expecting my
demotion to sink so low.

“Now, now—don’t be shy,” Mom sings like a
canary. “These two are indivisible with
injustice
for all.”
She gives a hoot into her wine. Just the thought of what might come
next, makes me want to crawl under the table and bring Kenny with
me. “You can practically see the steam rising out of the guest
house the way they parade around.”

Nice touch.

I glance over at Kenny with an apology
written across the disgruntled look on my face.

Her cheeks have entered tomato territory, but
it’s her lusciously swollen lips, the perfect curves hedging out of
her sweater that make me want to whisk her away from here in the
event my mother has another live grenade stashed in her arsenal.
Who knew Kenny would need protecting from my mother, of all
people.

“Parade around?” Karen shoots a look to
Kenny. She looks more amused than angry, although to be fair, I
don’t know her. She could be on the cusp of a full-on rage for all
I know.

“Come clean,
Kenny
.” Molly joins in on
the fun as she turns her attention to Kenny’s mother. “She told me
a few weeks back I’m gonna be an aunt.”

A collective gasp circles the table—Kenny’s
being the most dramatic.

Fuck. Leave it to Mom and Molly to tag team
Kenny in front of her poor, unsuspecting mother. I wouldn’t be
surprised if they hopped the next plane to L.A. after this
fiasco.

“So not true.” Kenny spits it out with venom
aimed right at Mol. “Nobody is going to be an aunt.” She gives a
nervous laugh to her mother.

How the hell does Molly know about that?

Mom clears her throat. “Excuse my daughter.
She’s prone to exaggeration. They are not having a baby. Isn’t that
right?” She looks to the two of us, and we deny the bullshit Molly
decided to confetti the table with. “They’re simply engaged.”

“Kendall!” Karen’s face lights up like a
flare.

Shit.

It looks like my mother and sister have
managed to inflict both Jordan women with third degree facial
burns. Although, according to Kenny, her mother has long since
bypassed the Jordan phase of her life.

I look to Kenny, urging her to deny it if she
wants to. She certainly has the opportunity. In the least she could
back pedal and say we’re dating, but doesn’t. Instead, she sits
there with indistinguishable choking sounds emitting from her
throat, reminiscent of earlier this evening. A severe flashback of
Kenny writhing over the bed sears through my mind. Not even the
fact both our mothers are in the room has the power to kill that
fantasy come to life from replaying itself in real time.

I doubt I’ll be fessing up to the fact I’ve
never used that “leash” before. That it was a gift from Cal of all
people. He gave it to me as a gag gift on my birthday the week
before Kenny arrived. He’s been living vicariously through my
sexual renaissance from the beginning. It was his way of outfitting
me to live out every one of his warped fantasies. Although, in
hindsight, this one wasn’t all that warped. It was
fan-fucking-tastic, and for damn sure I won’t be sharing any of
those details with Cal.

“So it’s true?” Her mother looks from me to
her.

“Looks like congratulations are in order.”
Dad puts on his bartending hat and pours us each a much-needed
glass of wine, Molly included, and she guzzles it down before any
kind of toast has a chance to commence. “To young love.” Dad raises
his glass while looking directly at Kenny’s poor unsuspecting
mother. “May we never forget the bittersweet fruit of its
vine.”

We? Bittersweet?

Karen raises her glass, and they exchange sad
smiles with the pretense of joy. I get the feeling Dad was a player
long before I ever walked onto the field.

Dinner goes off mostly without a hitch, other
than the fact Molly’s cooking leaves something to be desired. The
food is cold and flavorless, much like the relationship I’ve had
with my father these past twenty-four years. I’m open to seeing
that change, though. Kenny scraped clean all of the sludge that
once lingered inside me.