Stricken Trust (Stricken Rock) (2 page)

“Hey Em, wake up. Emily, please wake up,” I hear the most wonderful voice say.

I open my eyes.

“Hi, James.” I smile at him sleepily. Apparently, I fell asleep on this giant dark brown leather couch in the living room.

“We need to get groceries for our stay. Do you want to go with me to the store down the hill? Or do you want to stay here and cuddle on this couch?” He sits on the coffee table close to me, in a green long sleeve T that’s rolled up his forearms and a pair of khaki cargos, with his boots and guns strapped to his chest. He reaches out his hand and tucks my red hair out of my face. He’s adorable.

I grab his hand before it leaves my vicinity and rub it against my face. It’s so warm. “I’ll go, my cuddle buddy, I just have to change my clothes.”

I squeeze my legs together. Son of a bitch! This pussy thing is killing me. I lean up and peer down to my crotch. Yep, I hate that bitch. I can’t see her anymore unless I look in mirror, my fat belly is in the way. But I’m going to have to masturbate before we leave. I hate this!

“I uh…. You know.” I shrug, sitting the rest of the way up. Giving him back his hand.

“I figured,” he says shrugging it off, like it’s no big thing.

It is to me. But it appears he’s so used to it by now. Mr. Monk, I don’t even think he masturbates himself. I’ve never asked and I’ve never caught him. He has no dirty magazines and his phone and laptop are clean. I know; I checked. Not because I cared if he was a bad boy. I just hoped I wasn’t the only pervert in the house. Apparently, I am. I have the sex drive of a sixteen year old boy juiced up and he has the sex drive of an eighty year old woman. Although, I know he gets boners. It’s confusing, but I know him well enough to know he won’t talk about it.

I’ve tried to talk to James into online dating, he refuses. I’ve tried to set him up with a friend of Stacy’s. He won’t even consider it. I know his last serious girlfriend was five years ago right before he started working for Stricken. I also know that he’s had four longer term relationships in his life and he’s forty three. Only one relationship since he’s been out of the military. He had a girl when he was nineteen, he dated her for a year, I think. Another when he was twenty six. The bitch one about the stinky feet which was twelve years ago and then the one from five years ago which lasted six months. He’s a forever bachelor. Which is stupid as hell. I’ve also said that to him about a hundred times. Honestly, he would make the best boyfriend for a woman. Except for the lack of sex.

“Um… Emily? Are you going to go up and get your business over with so we can go? I can go by myself. I know traveling takes a lot out of a person. Especially a mommy.”

Shit, I zoned out again.

I scoot to the edge of the couch. If I sit my back against the back of this couch my feet couldn’t touch the floor even if I tried. It’s big and I’m too short. James also scoots forward on the coffee table and his knees are touching mine. He reaches out and touches the babies. He touches them a lot actually. I think he likes them better than me. Not that I blame him. They’re the reason he’s my bodyguard. If they weren’t baking in my belly, I wouldn’t need him for protection. I’d still need him in my life as a friend. But the protection part would be null and void.

He leans over. “Hello little ones, it’s me again. I hope you are having fun in mommy today. She just took a nap. I can’t wait to start feeling you both very soon,” he says, rubbing gentle circles with his big hand. It feels nice on my skin and like every time he does it, my pussy swells. It’s not him, it’s the touching. Every time we cuddle, I get turned on. Every time I take a shower or a bath or remove my bra. The only person who doesn’t turn me on is Stacy. He touches me and I’m fine. Why? I have no flipping idea.

I pat him on the head and he sits up and removes his hand. “Give me five. It won’t take long,” I comment, getting up and making my way like a penguin up the stairs to the bedroom. There are four bedrooms and we decided to shack up anyhow. I think we like the closeness. It keeps the loneliness bug at bay.

I haven’t unpacked yet, so I unzip my red roller that’s on the floor by the closet and grab my black long sleeved cotton dress and a new pair of panties. I have to change them all the time. It’s stupid, really. I go into the bathroom and disrobe out of my yoga pants and long sleeved T. Sitting on the edge of the whirlpool tub, I slide down my panties.

Fuck I’m hot. I reach under my belly and rest my hands on my mound. I touch my clit and jump. Damn, that’s sensitive! I rub it in little shallow circles, throwing my head back and moaning into the air. Shit, this is good! I hump into my finger and yep, I’m ready. Oh yes! I buck my hips and I come hard. My body jerking. Damn! That was good. What did that take? Thirty seconds?

I stand, throw on my dress, and clean boy short panties. I own mostly boy shorts, now. I love them and they fit very well since I’m pregnant. I slide on a pair of black flats with cute rhinestones on the top. I check myself in the mirror. No makeup. I don’t need it to go shopping and who do I have to impress? Nobody. I hit the stairs and meet James down by the front door.

“That was fast,” he comments.

I shrug, my nose bunching. “Yep, now let’s go get our food on.”

Tucking my arm into his, we exit the cabin to go to the store.

“What movie do you want to watch?” I call to James. He’s standing in the rustic cabin kitchen. It maybe rustic, but it looks like it cost eighty grand. It’s that nice. Dark granite countertops, worn cabinets, dish washer, stainless steel built in fridge, counter top range and double wall oven. And it comes fully stocked with pots and pans. All you’d ever need to live. The island has big wooden stools with no backs and there’s eight of them. This place can sleep, I think twenty between all the bedrooms and couches. Although I think it’s perfect at about eight to ten guests.

“I don’t care, whatever you want,” he calls from the kitchen.

“Don’t play that with me mister,” I tease, watching him eat a snickers bar, leaning against the kitchen cupboards. I think we should own stock in Snickers bars. He loves them that much. At home we have drawer full of candy, mostly Snickers and my Mexican, chili mango suckers.

“I’m going to go upstairs and change, Em, you decide whatever you want. I’ll be back down in a bit,” he says, feeding the last bite into his mouth. He’s a mix between barbarian and gentleman when he eats. It’s cute.

Stacy is all barbarian with no manners. I think Stacy views napkins and silverware as a luxury when he eats. His hands are his most used utensil, even eating salad. He picks out the good stuff and then he uses a fork with the lettuce. He’s a weirdo. I wonder if that drives Kyle nuts as much as it does me.

I wave him off and he goes up stairs to I assume throw on his pj’s.

I pull out my cell and realize I haven’t spoken to my girlfriend is nearly two days. Reception here is dodgy. I only hope the texts can come and go. And I should just forget about trying to actually call out on the phone. The mountains are beautiful and serene but a bitch to get one service bar in. Internet works great though. Thankfully I brought my nook and laptop.

Me- Hey Claire just thought I’d let you know we got into Colorado okay. Hope you’re going well. Kicking butt and taking names. Xoxoxoxo.

I drop my phone back down on the side table in the living room. This room is to die for. Two big dark brown leather couches, a rustic rectangular coffee table and matching end tables. There’s a huge rug that finishes the sitting space, its hunter green and cream. The side lamps are thick iron with big green shades. A giant plasma TV is above the mantle on the floor to ceiling corner stone fireplace. That’s gas burning, not real wood. The ceilings in the living room or what I’d call a great room are two story, all the way up with giant windows to let all the beautiful light in. I love this place. At night, I bet the stars up here are magnificent. All the flooring on the main level is hardwood and polished to a meticulous buttery sheen. Upstairs, it’s carpeted — but it’s the expensive kind with a tight weave. Nothing in this cabin is substandard. From the bronze faucets in the bathrooms to the All-Clad pots and pans in the kitchen, it all screams luxury.

I wish I had this kind of money to decorate with, like they put into this log cabin. I have gotten a raise working for Stricken. I think it has something to do with the fact that I refuse to take money directly from Johnathan. I’ll accept James but I won’t take cash. So my pay somehow magically rose. And I’m not talking the typical fifty cent an hour. I get salary anyhow. But I went from 30k a year to 45k overnight. Still not the 60k I was making in New York. But I have no house payment or car payment. So I’m not doing too bad for myself.

Oh, shit. I need to pee and I should probably get out of this dress. The shopping earlier today went well. No one noticed me. Which was a first in weeks. We stocked up on food enough to last a while and after a five minute argument James let me actually push the damn cart. He wants to do everything for me. I realize I’m his job. But I am capable of pushing a cart on my own for Christ sake. I made us dinner when we got back, some roasted chicken and wild rice. Nothing fancy. Now it’s evening time, I’m ready for some relaxation and a movie. Plus, the stars should be shinning bright in about an hour.

I get off the couch and pad my way up the stairs. Waddling like a duck. Damn, I’m fat.

I reach out and turn the nob to our bedroom. I’ve given James enough time he should be dressed by now. So I push the door open.

Holy shit! What the fuck!?

“Oh my god, Emily! Don’t look. Close your eyes right now!” he screams and covers himself protectively with his hands.

“Jame…,” I clear my throat loudly. “James. What happened?” I ask, my eyes as big as saucers. My hands are seriously shaking.

“Go back down stairs Emily and forget you saw anything. Please, I’m begging you.” His normal warmth and sweetness is gone. In its place is the highest level of anxiety.

“No, I’m not going back downstairs until you tell me what happened. Now.” I blurt, unable to stop staring.

I am not leaving this damn bedroom until he comes clean. I can’t believe I didn’t know this before. How could I have not known? Oh, that’s right he doesn’t talk to me about it. Son of a bitch. I instantly feel deep gut wrenching sorrow for him and I want to hold him. My poor poor Teddy Bear.

“Emily, please. I can’t do this. Don’t look,” he begs, literally.

I close my eyes. Even though it’s nearly impossible.

“James, you need to talk to me. Get dressed and we are going to talk now,” I demand with a gentle loving tone. At least I pray it comes out that way. I’m freaking on the inside.

“I can’t do…” he chokes back an obvious tear. “I can’t talk about this, Emily. I can’t.”

He’s about to break into full on crying. I’ve known James for over four months and I’ve never heard him cry. I don’t know what to do. I can’t have my other best friend crying. He doesn’t need to feel this way. Damn-it! What do I do? My hands won’t stop trembling. I need to touch him. I need to make him feel better. I want to comfort him. He’s my best friend.

“James?” My eyes are closed. I can feel his presence, his breathing is coming loud and fast.

“Yes?” He sobs.

Oh, shit. He’s crying. Fuck this, I’m going to him.

I take a step forward with my eyes closed. It’s all open floor space between us.

“Please go down stairs Emily. Go. Don’t come any closer.” He pleads, his voice hoarse.

I take another step. Oh damn, doing this walking without using your eyes is not good. But I don’t want to open them. I want to respect him that much. I take another step and reach out for him. I can feel his warmth. He’s close and breathing erratically. God, he’s almost hyperventilating.

“James, let me hold you please,” I delicately push with a soft soothing tone.

“No, I can’t. If you leave I can get dressed. I’m not removing my hands until you leave.” He cries. I know he’s trying to be strong but he doesn’t have to be that way with me. I’m here for him just as much as he is for me. Ok, maybe not as much. But I can be.

“James, I promise to look up at the ceiling. I won’t look down. I’m opening my eyes.”

I open them with my head tipped toward the ceiling. I slowly tilt my head down so I can see him. He’s close. His eyes are red and the sadness on his face is heart wrenching. I take a step and he takes one back. Fine, I can’t be slow about this.

I run at him fast and wrap my arms around his neck. Pulling this beautiful man to me. My belly pressed against him. He’s naked, still covering himself.

I pull back slightly and grasp his face in my hands. I swipe away the tears. I want to kiss them away but that would be too intimate.

“Look at me,” I whisper, holding his strong stubbly jaw in my small hands.

He listens and his green brown eyes bore into mine with all the pain and anguish he’s experiencing right now. I nearly wince at the horror his face is projecting.

“Beautiful man, I am here for you. We need to talk. I know you don’t want to. But I promise I’m here for you. Just like you are for me. I love you very much and there is nothing that I will not hold your hand through. Do you understand?” I say to him in the most loving tone I can manifest.