Ashes - Book 1 (2 page)

The sky rumbles and we both look up. A flash, then another rumble vibrates through my bones.

“We should go,” he says, looking back at me, his mouth tight, his pupils nearly eclipsing the green of his gorgeous eyes.

He’s right. We should. But I press against him again, hovering just above his waiting cock. Steam has begun to surround us and I look at it in wonder, a result of cool rain on our heated skin. I feel cocooned and safe within the embrace of nature.

I drop my hand between us and wrap it around his shaft, blinking through the rain and watch his face as I lower myself down his cock. Inch by inch, he slides inside, stretching me, filling me, going deep.

He crushes me against his chest and in a single thrust, I’m impaled. He holds me tightly in that position, pure heat between my legs. His mouth takes mine, his fingers digging into my ass.

He lifts me and forces me back down hard into his lap. I gasp and kiss him harder. I love it when he gets rough.

Slowly, he lifts me again, then slides me down him much slower. I love it when he’s tender too. My fingers travel from his shoulders to his arms, feeling the muscles contract and relax as he lifts me over and over again. His strength is incredible. His endurance overwhelming. I hold on, enjoying the ride.

He lets go of my ass, allowing me to choose the rhythm. I begin to gently rise and fall, relishing the movement and friction. My hands are in his hair, we’re looking into each other’s eyes, and I watch the rain stream down his beautiful face. I lean in and lick the water away, allowing it to stream over my tongue. I’m deeply moved by the beauty of what we’re doing and my throat tightens with emotion. I swallow it away and kiss him again.

Another rumble of thunder, louder this time, startles me. I gasp in surprise and alarm, looking up. The sky has darkened further, the wind picking up speed. I pick up my own pace as well. Up and down. Up and down I pound onto him harder. I’m close. He is too. His hands are back on my hips, moving me, impaling me at an impossible speed.

The sky crashes again and so do I, my entire body rocked with the violence of my orgasm. The intensity tears a scream from my lips.

Gage roars out his own release, his face in my wet hair, his fingers digging into my skin. He’s trembling and holding me so tight I almost lose air. I gasp and he loosens his hold just a bit.

As we both grow still, he kisses me again. “That was so beautiful,” I whisper against his lips, feeling him continue to pulse inside me. I don’t want to go. Never want to leave this lovely oasis.

He smiles and traces his tongue along the curve of my lower lip before kissing his way to my ear. He bites on the lobe and then licks down my jawline, then up the center of my cheek.

“Stop.” I laugh and try to pull away. “What are you doing?” He licks me up the side of the face again. “Yuck. Stop.” I try to pull away once again.

He’s lapping me, long, broad strokes up my cheek. “Gage, what the …?” His tongue slides across my mouth and up the center of my nose. I turn my head. “Stop!” I yell and push him away, turning my head.

The licking stops and I’m swatted on my nose. Once. Twice. Then something lands on my chest.

I open my eyes and a blue eyed fuzz ball swats at my nose again. Then a black streak pounces and, in a mass of dog and cat playfulness, they go streaking from my bed.

I wipe the slobber off my cheek and groan. Doggy kisses first thing in the morning have somehow turned into my alarm clock. I glance at my phone. Sure enough, it’s a minute until seven in the morning. Onyx should be the mascot for Rolex and I really need to remember to shut my door at night.

Stretching, I think back to the dream Onyx and Ghost so rudely interrupted. Gage. Wet from the waterfall. Hovering over me. In me. I smile and stretch again, before frowning. I know he’s getting frustrated with me. That I’ll only allow sex with me on top. But … he either accepts me that way, or …

Or what?

It’s not like we have a relationship. I can see anyone else I want. But I have fun with him. I’m comfortable with him. I don’t want it to stop.

It’s been over a week since I last saw him. My stomach tightens and I want him again. Picking up my phone, my thumbs fly over the keys.
FWB alert. You down for Friday night?
I hit send.

Seconds later, the alarm on my phone begins its incessant chime. I stretch one last time before hauling my ass out of bed.

Chapter 2 – Beth

An hour later, I’m showered, dressed for work and make my way into the kitchen. My roommate, Stephanie, is setting down bowls of kibble for Onyx and Ghost. She looks up and smiles brightly, her face glowing in a radiance that hasn’t dimmed over the past eight months. Her fiancé, Ken, spent the night, but has already gone to work his shift at the fire hall.

“Starve the devil beasts,” I say, but rumple Onyx on her black head. I don’t dare touch Ghost while he’s eating or I’ll end up with a handful of claws. As big a pain as they can sometimes be, I love these two pets as much as if they were my own. My ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’ — a black Labrador retriever and long hair something or other cat, both five months old, gifts to Stephanie from Ken, her fiancé.

“Oh no, did they wake you up again? You really need to shut your door.”

Before I can respond with a wise ass remark, she flips the switch to the blender and our morning green smoothies whir to life. Stephanie wiggles her eyebrows at me. I wiggle mine back. We know each other too well. She’s way too polite to tell me to shut up.

When all is quiet again, I look at my phone to see if I missed a text from Gage. Nothing. Nada. I sigh and set the damn phone back down. I hate to wait. Hate the unknown. If I could teleport myself to him right now and force an answer, I would.

“Expecting a call?” She grins at me and hands me a large glass of deliciousness that unfortunately looks like baby poop. I frown at her and take a large gulp. Yum, she’s added extra pineapple, just the way I like it.

“Just hoping for a little FWB love this weekend, that’s all.” I frown at my phone again.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Isn’t it past time you two go beyond ‘friends with benefits’?” She air quotes the words. “It’s okay to call it a date, you know.”

I wrinkle my nose. “No way. Date smells too much like relationship. Especially if you do it more than once.” I wiggle my brows again. “And I absolutely want to do it more than once with him.”

She grins at me, not the least bit shocked at my crude answer. We are closer than sisters and tell each other everything.

“Beth, it’s obvious to everyone in the entire solar system that you and Gage are perfect together. Stop being an asshole and accept it.”

I widen my eyes and feign a bright smile. “You’re right. We’re perfect fuck buddies, so I’m not going to screw it up by getting all emotional and shit.” I take another large sip. “Speaking of fucking, do you know where the closest waterfall is? I had the most fantastic dream …”

At eight-thirty, I pull into the parking lot of HEAL — Healing Exploitation through Acceptance and Love — a center Stephanie and I created to support victims of sexual assault and exploitation.

I seldom cry. I hate crying, detest how vulnerable it makes me feel, but nearly every time I pull into this parking lot and look at the lovely brick building, I feel the back of my eyes grow hot.

I met Stephanie during my freshman year of college and at first, I thought she was the worst dorm-mate ever. I’d begged my dad to rent me an apartment, but he’d told me no, he and my mom wanted me on campus where I was ‘safe’. Plus, my dad took great pleasure in reminding me that freshmen were required to live on campus their first year, and even his generous donations to the college each year wouldn’t change that rule.

The first time I’d walked into the dorm room, I’d nearly puked in disappointment. It was tiny, smaller than my walk-in closet back home. Two tiny twin beds, two tiny desks. Thankfully, there was a private, although minuscule, bathroom. If I’d had to use community showers, I would have died and run screaming from the building. As it was, I’d showered wearing flip-flops the first several weeks.

My saving grace was my hope that I’d have an awesome dorm mate. Instead of the girl I’d dreamed of, I’d been thrown together with this quiet, mousy girl who barely ever spoke.

We almost instantly hated each other.

Stephanie dressed in the most god awful clothes and walked with her shoulders slumped and her head down almost all the time. She was so weird and lived with a book in front of her face. She’d have panic attacks over nothing, but never ask for help. Like I said … weird. After trying to talk to her, I simply gave up and made other friends who enjoyed partying as much as I did.

I really don’t know how Stephanie had been able to stand me. I was nothing but a snotty nosed bitch most of the time. I’d come from a wealthy family, had always gotten what I wanted. I’d been the head cheerleader in high school too. My silver spoon was full.

Not Stephanie’s.

She was only able to attend school on scholarship, and still had to work several days a week to pay for any extras, like her little car or even a slice of pizza that didn’t come from her meal card. Her mom had died when she was young and her dad killed himself on the last day of her junior year in high school. She had no other family, except a grandmother who lived in North Carolina, two thousand miles away. Stephanie had tried to reach out to the woman, but learned she suffered from severe dementia and didn’t even realize she had a daughter, much less a grandchild.

The only thing Steph and I had in common was a mutual goal of becoming nurses, although I’d had to fight my father when he’d learned I didn’t want to be an attorney, like him. He’d been so mad, had even called me horrible names and threatened to disown me. My mom had just cried and told me I’d be stricken with HIV or some other disease.

I knew their true worry … how could they possibly introduce their daughter to their socialite friends as a lowly nurse? They took little comfort in knowing I wanted to be a nurse practitioner and run my own office someday. They wanted me to be an attorney or a doctor; even an art director or professor would have been better than having a child work in a ‘hands-on’ profession.

I’d held firm and gotten my way, of course. Daddy could never stay mad at me for long. He still gave me disapproving glances and made remarks about how I’m wasting my life. And still attempts to set me up every chance he got with a ‘suitable’ boy.

Setting the e-brake of my Jeep Wrangler Unlimited, I grin, remembering how pissed my dad had been when I’d refused his graduation gift of a Mercedes and traded it for this bad boy instead. Bright yellow and fully loaded, I loved it, especially when the top was down. I’d even taken it four-wheeling a month or so ago. I’d never tell my mother or father I’d done that. Or that a firefighter had been my partner in that crime. Or that we’d already screwed in the front seat, the back seat and on the hood.

Jumping down from the Jeep, I give it a pat before I turn to admire the offices of HEAL. I’ve never been so proud of anything in my life. This place is a testimony of good versus evil. A testimony of my best friend’s strength and enduring love for others. A sanctuary for those who have been raped or sexually abused.

Stephanie and I cut the ribbon on the center in an elaborate celebration earlier this year. Even my mom and dad attended and smiled at me with, yes, pride. The money to fund it came from the most unexpected of places after Stephanie went through some horrible shit, but that’s a different story. Now, she’s deeply in love and living the dream. In fact, she’ll be marching down the aisle almost a year from now.

This morning, it’s my turn to open the office and get everything ready for the day. Turning the key in the employee entrance, I mentally go through my schedule. I have to remember to complete my final paperwork to begin my master’s degree in the fall.

Pushing open the door, I jump when a hand falls on my shoulder and I whip around, keys raised in defense.

“Help me, please,” a young girl cries. She’s breathing hard and twisting her hands together. She looks barely fifteen years old, even tinier than me. “Please,” she whimpers again, her breathing coming in great gasps. The eye that isn’t swollen shut is imploring me. She looks terrified and is shaking all over. There’s blood covering most of her face.

Before I can respond, a man yells, “Get back here, bitch!” The voice is loud and cracks the air, followed by what sounds like boots pounding the concrete in our direction. I don’t yet see the man wearing them.

The girl screams, her good eye widening in fright. She’s terrified and tries to push past me and into the center. I move to the side and hustle her through the door.

“Shut the door!” she cries out. I don’t.

I wait, wanting to see the guy, to be able to identify him, and pull my phone from my pocket. The girl is screaming, begging me to close the door, but I hesitate a little longer. I need to see. I must see him. Record him if I’m able. Put whoever did this to her behind bars.

He rounds the corner of the building. Shit. The guy is huge. Bald. Jeans. Black t-shirt. Big as hell. I fumble for the camera on my phone. He’s twenty yards away and moving fast, faster than a big man should be able to run. I tap video and hold the phone up, recording him. Fifteen yards.