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I nodded.
“And that’s your old lady?” Beacon pointed to Bex, who was staring, drugged-out, into space.
I nodded again.
“She dead?” Beacon asked.
“No,” I said. “Just drugged to shit.”
“Good,” Beacon said, and he nodded at me when I turned to him. “You can wait ‘til she wakes up. Then get the fuck out of here, Cross. I don’t wanna see your face on this side of town again. Not unless you’re droppin’ off a thank you card.”
Beacon signaled to his men, and they started their engines again.
“Thanks,” I said, nodding, meaning it. Beacon and his men were alright. I almost wished we could join forces. I thought we’d be a real fuckin’ good team. But that was never gonna happen. Not in my lifetime at least. And then I was starin’ at their patches, watching them roll down the block, back on their patrol. I carried Bex to the sidewalk, sat down and positioned her beside me.
She was passed out again. She was breathing, though, thank God. I wanted to get back into the right side of town sooner rather than later, but I didn’t want to risk Bex fallin’ off the back of my bike. So I threw my arm around her and waited for her to wake up again.
I wanted to be the first thing she saw when she finally came to.
I’d fucked up. I knew the pills were no good. I knew how she’d feel about ‘em. But once I started…well, there’s no way to explain it.
Ten minutes later, Bex woke up again. She wasn’t herself, she was mumbling and repeating herself and sayin’ crazy shit. It was a miracle she’d been able to get Jase the way she did. I guessed adrenaline had something to do with that. At any rate, she was awake enough to stay on my bike, and I rode slow as a granny all the way home.
Puttin’ her to bed was easy enough, and she was sleeping again within minutes. And then I just sat there. Watchin’ her. Hopin’ she’d forgive me. I flushed the pills. I hoped it would be enough. Even if it wasn’t, though, I took some small comfort, just knowin’ that she was safe. She could leave me and curse my name for the rest of her life, but she’d be safe.
Bex
Waking up in his bed that morning after Jase took me, I was almost glad he’d knocked me out. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d been awake to fight back when we were in the car. What I did know is that it had taken every ounce of energy and willpower in my heart to stay awake for those few precious minutes that Jase had a gun to my throat. I could have slept through it, and then where would I be? After that, though, it was all a blur: a violent, nauseating blur.
I was torn between wishing I could have seen what Cross did to him, and knowing I was better off leaving it to my imagination. The reality might have given me nightmares.
But chasing Jase halfway across the city and beating him shitless wasn’t enough to draw me back into Cross’ arms. Maybe that makes me a bitch, but I had plenty of reasons. He’d still lied to me. He’d still picked up that bottle of pills, knowing all the evil that was inside. No, I couldn’t put that weight down, couldn’t give him a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Not yet, at least.
I gave him a week. I figured that was long enough for the worst of the drugs to leave his system. I stayed with Ducky in the meantime. His wife turned out to be lovely. She even apologized for being cold to me in high school. And seeing her all big and pregnant…well, it made me feel some kind of way. But without Cross, it felt much colder at night, and it wasn’t because of the changing weather.
A week to the day, I was on Cross’ doorstep, waiting for him to open up and hoping that he’d be sober when he did. I’d gotten one of those drug testing kits from the pharmacy, and toyed with it as I waited. He finally opened the door, looking happy to see me and half dead from misery at the same time. My first instinct was to sweep him up in a hug and wipe that misery from his face, but I shoved the drug test in his hands instead.
He didn’t say a word, just let me follow him into the apartment before disappearing into the bathroom. I listened to him pee, then we sat together at the kitchen table and waited for the results, both silent. Each passing minute felt more and more ridiculous and awkward. There we were, sitting with a cup of piss between us, neither able to think of a single thing to say. It would have been funny, if our relationship didn’t depend entirely on that cup of piss.
Finally, we knew the answer. It was the one I needed.
“Bex,” he said, rising and coming around the table; I met him in the middle, my heart opening like a blossom. “I’m so sorry. I know what those pills mean to you, and I didn’t even think about it, I just wanted to…”
“Cross,” I said, picking up the drug test and throwing it into the garbage. “Shut up.”
It had been a week. A long week. I didn’t need him to apologize. I needed him to fuck me. That was how we would make things right. The best way I knew how. His eyes flashed with confusion for a moment, but I grabbed his neck and pulled his face down to mine, kissing him with every ounce of love that flooded back into my heart. It was like coming home. It was all like coming home.
His hands curled around my waist, his tongue pressing against mine, our hunger meeting in the middle. A hint of his muscled, tattooed chest peeked through his white t-shirt, tantalizing, and I fairly ripped the shirt off his head, revealing every inch of his magnificent chest, his abs rippling, his ink bright and bold. My lips covered the words under his neck: Dead Crusaders. They travelled across his chest while his hands twined and tangled in my hair, until he yanked my face back to his and covered my lips once more, tasting just like him, my favorite candy.
“Bex,” he said, nearly panting as he pulled away. “Don’t you want…”
“I want you to fuck me, Cross,” I moaned, hands gripping at his sides and pulling until my breasts met his muscle. “I just want you to fuck me.”
He studied me for one long, tense, liquid moment, our eyes aligned, charged and deep. And then he was on me, lifting me like a doll, planting my ass on the kitchen table and ripping my thighs apart. My dress offered no resistance as he hitched it up, grabbing my panties and pulling them down; he paused at my ankles, came back up gently, kissing his way up my leg, trailing his tongue along my inner thigh while I moaned and squirmed and dripped onto the table beneath me.
While his head inched towards my slit, his hand shot up to my chest, pushing until I leaned back onto my elbows, my dress pushed past my hips, my sex glittering and bared for him. His tongue danced across the upper swell of my thigh, dipped between my lips, and traced a path to my clit.
“Ohhh, yes,” I moaned, my own hand finding his head as he began to lap and suck at my throbbing clit, his tongue slipping over it in dizzying patterns, my body sparking with the glory of it. “Cross, yes…”
He growled when
I moaned his name, his hands at my hips now, clutching hard, like he was afraid I might wiggle away from him. Not a chance. Not while he was performing that magic on my clit, flicking and circling and flicking and circling…
The minute I felt his fingers pressing against my slit, my limbs went to jelly. He continued to assault my clit with his tongue as his fingers pushed into me, my wet pussy aching for his touch, clenching around his fingers as soon as they slid inside. His other hand landed on my stomach, a gentle pressure that drove me wild while his fingers began to pump, curled against my pussy walls, finding my pleasure in an instant.
Heat built in my stomach, under his hand, my clit throbbing and swollen as he suckled it between his lips. I opened my eyes just long enough to see his eyes twinkling back up at me, and I knew it was coming, the driving force to push me over the edge. His teeth closed, just grazing my clit, at the same time his fingers slammed against my G-spot, and the tension inside me released.
I came in a screaming mess, my hands pulling his head against my pussy while my hips bucked and thrust upwards. His hand on my stomach stroked my bared flesh, guiding me down from my peak. But no sooner was I recovering, thighs shaking and muscles weak, than I felt him rise and unzip himself, releasing his cock. He leaned in, kissing me, letting me taste myself on his tongue, pressing his hardness against my thigh while his arms pinned me in place.
“Feel what you do to me, baby?” he growled, pulling away to whisper in my ear, the heat of his words reigniting my body. His cock pressed at my slit, not entering me yet, building my anticipation as I whimpered. “Feel how hard you make me? Fuck, Bex, you’re the only one, the only one…”
My hands found his hair again, pulling his lips against mine, wanting to kiss him as he entered me. His hands found my breasts, cupping them through my dress, rolling his thumbs over the nipples. His tongue darted around my own, a tortured dance between us, his cock still holding me in purgatory. Slowly, his hands travelled down to my hips, and when he pulled his mouth from mine, it was only growl my name.
