Phoenix: The Beauty in Between (A Beautiful Series Companion Novel) (8 page)

The moment we
arrive home. I reach for my door handle to get out. “Wait,” he
commands. So I do.

He gets out of
the car and stands a few metres away, making phone calls while I
wait quietly in the car. I can see him running his hand back and
forward over his head as he speaks, and as much as he is scaring
me, I can’t help but admire how strong and attractive he is. It
saddens me that someone I’ve only known to be kind and giving can
have such a dark side to them.

After almost
half an hour, he comes over and opens my door, holding his hand out
for me to take. He still isn’t smiling. His anger is rolling off
him in waves, but he seems to be in quiet control.

I take my cue
from him and place my hand in his without speaking, without
smiling. I make eye contact and try to silently tell him that
everything will be ok. But I don’t really know that do I? I mean,
what if he’s really hurt that guy?

Once inside, he
closes and locks the door, still holding my hand as he does. I
simply stand by, waiting and watching, unsure of what I should do
right now.

I’m standing
between him and the door, and he edges closer to me, pressing me,
pinning me, between him and the cool wood. He reaches up and wraps
his hand around my jaw, so his thumb is on one cheek, and his
fingers are on the other. He tilts my head up and meets my
eyes.

His are
searching, challenging, but I hold his gaze and keep my breath
steady. After what seems like an age, he crushes his mouth against
mine, kissing me fiercely as if he’s trying to somehow absorb
me.

One hand snakes
around my waist and pulls me tightly against him, while the other
grabs tufts of my hair at the base of my skull and tugs. Still
holding me tightly, he walks us over to the dining room table then
spins me around so he’s behind me. His kisses and heavy breathing
move along my jaw and neck, and turn into firm sucks, then painful
bites.

I close my eyes
tightly and breathe. I just need to keep calm.

He pulls my
shirt over my head and drops it on the floor, his hands curling
around me to knead at my breasts. There is nothing gentle about
what he is doing, but even though I’m afraid, I’m walking that fine
line between wanting to stay and wanting to run.

I suck in my
breath involuntarily when he pinches my nipple, the pain is a
little more than I’m comfortable with. He removes his hands from my
front and pushes me forward, so I’m bent over the table, my hot
breath making fog circles on the smooth surface.

Still, he
hasn’t said a word. It’s strange to me because he normally talks a
lot when we’re together, always telling me how much he wants me and
what he’s about to do. The silence and not knowing what he’s
planning is driving me crazy, but I’m not sure if it’s in a good
way. I think the best word to describe how I feel right now is –
unsure.

He pulls my
pants roughly down my legs, and I obligingly step out, making sure
I stay glued to the table top. Something tells me that he wants me
a very specific way, and I’m not willing to risk having his desire
turned against me in rage.

He moves my
feet apart with a push of his and for a few moments, he does
nothing. I hear him crouching down, then he places his hands at the
very top of my thighs and pushes my legs wider.

It’s the first
time I can hear something from him, the deep breathing of arousal.
The familiar throbbing starts between my legs as I wait, the
anticipation begins to excite me.

I feel his
breath first, and then his tongue as he starts at my clit and drags
his tongue upwards, all the way to my anus, where he spends a bit
of time, working it with the tip. Surprisingly to me, it feels
amazing, and I start panting.

He lets out a
slight moan as his fingers reach up, and he teases the entrance of
my now dripping pussy. He slides them back and forwards before
pushing them inside me, pulsing them in and out while he continues
to rim me.

I’m close to
exploding when he pulls both his fingers and his mouth away from me
and stands. I hear him removing his pants and the sound of
crinkling foil. It sounds as though he’s putting on a condom, which
isn’t something he normally does.

When he steps
between my legs, he reaches between them with his hand and inserts
his fingers into my depths, dragging them out and up over my anus,
where he circles me with a little pressure, probing at my
tightness.

I hold my
breath, feeling fairly certain about what he wants to do. I’m not
sure I’m ready for this.

He presses his
cock against my other hole, and I let out a slight whimper. It’s
completely unintentional, and I wish to god it hadn’t escaped my
lips. I hear him blow a short, hollow, laugh out his nose, and I
breathe a sigh of relief when he pushes himself inside my pussy
instead.

The relief
floods through my body and makes the whole experience feel so much
more intense. I moan as he plunges into my depths, over and over
again. My fingers squeak against the table as I press against it,
griping my insides tight around him. I’m so close to coming.

When he
suddenly pulls out, I whimper again. I want to come. I was almost
there.

He runs his
hand between my legs, probing my insides with his fingers before
moving again toward my back entrance. He presses his finger lightly
at my opening, testing my resistance.

“Relax,” he
whispers. The first sound of his voice throughout this whole
encounter, echoes throughout the quiet of the house. I let out
another breath as he repeats himself. “Just relax.”

He pushes his
finger inside, and the sensation is a mixture of pleasure and
discomfort. I do my best to stay calm and relax as he said. I can
imagine that fighting it will cause the discomfort to win, and I
don’t want that right now.

Removing his
finger, he presses his tip up against it, parting my skin with his
hands as he starts to push in. “I’m going slow. Just breathe Paige.
Relax.”

I’m trying. I’m
trying so hard to relax, but this doesn’t feel so great. Slowly, he
pushes himself, in and out, further and further each time until
suddenly, the discomfort turns into an overwhelming sense of
pleasure.

“Ohhhhh!” I
moan as he moves back and forth. My core is throbbing, threatening
to explode at any moment.

“Play with
yourself,” he whispers to me.

I feel too
frozen to move right now. I'm scared that the moment I do, this
won’t feel so good anymore.

“Play with
yourself,” he demands, more gruffly this time, commanding me to do
it.

I force myself
to move my arm, adjusting myself slightly so I can get my hand
between my legs. The moment I touch myself, I’m catapulted into a
state of pure ecstasy that causes me to explode, a burst of warm
liquid surprises me, and it flows out over my hand.

I start calling
out my orgasm and go to remove my hand, but Jeff stops me.

“Keep going,
put your fingers inside you,” he growls. His voice ragged and thick
with his own need to come.

I push my
fingers inside myself as he continues to move inside me. I can
actually feel him there through the thin wall between the two
holes.

Finally, he
pushes in hard and deep and holds himself there, a strangled moan
escaping his throat as I feel him pulse inside me. His fingers dig
painfully into my hips as he holds me there, frozen, with my own
hand, halfway inside me.

When he pulls
out, I’m not sure if I should move from the table, but I do remove
my hand and wait to see what he is going to do next. As he walks
toward the garbage bin and removes the condom, I push myself up and
turn to face him.

“Go and take a
shower,” he orders me, his voice completely devoid of feeling, as
he walks over to the sink and washes his hands. “I’ve got some more
calls to make.”

Tears prick at
the backs of my eyes as I nod quickly and pick up my things, taking
them with me to the bathroom. Once the shower is on, and I’m
standing under the warm stream, I lean my head up against the tiles
and cry. I’m confused and don’t know how to feel about what just
happened. I don’t think I ever want to repeat that sexual
experience again.

Jeff is on
edge. I don’t know if it’s me, or if it’s because of that guy he
beat up at the club the other night. But he’s not his usual self. I
miss his usual self.

His phone keeps
ringing, and he leaves the room to talk quietly to whoever is on
the other end. He’s snappy and moody, and I feel like I’m in the
way.

I try to be
available for him, whenever he needs me, which is a lot. But we
seem to have lost that deep sexual connection we once shared - our
love making has turned into fucking - and I don’t know how to get
it back.

Tonight we’re
going to an alcohol-free band night. It’s for under 18s, so Jeff
will need to wait for me outside. We’ve done this before, it’s a
fairly easy place to sell. It’s held at a scout hall, and the crowd
gets so big that it spills outside and surrounds the premises.

It shuts down
at midnight, so we arrive around nine p.m. It’s dark now and people
are starting to get bored without alcohol giving them a buzz.

There’s
security milling about, and it’s their job to find and remove
anyone who is found to be drinking or concealing alcohol. Taking an
E is the perfect solution to a fun night without alcohol. So when I
arrive, they’re more than ready to part with their money.

After doing a
lap through the premises as well as one outside, word is getting
around that I’m here and ecstasy is available. This is normally
when I get going, because teenagers can’t always be trusted to be
discreet.

I’m on my way
out to Jeff, when I get pulled into the bathroom and bailed up by a
few giggly girls who want to buy some tabs. Problem is, they want
more than they can afford, and I’m not willing to bargain with
them.

“I can’t help
you then,” I tell them turning around, ready to walk away. Instead
of finding an empty doorway, I’m faced with the instantly
recognisable blue shirt of a police officer.

His hands are
on his hips as he looks down at me disapprovingly. “You wouldn’t be
the girl with wild curly brown hair and light coloured eyes whose
supplying kids with happy pills are you?”

I shake my head
from side to side quickly and try to step around him. “No officer.
There must be someone else,” I say as confidently as I can.

He steps to
block my path. “Well then, you won’t mind showing me what’s in your
pockets then.”

“I don’t have
to do that.”

“And I don’t
have to move if I don’t want to. I can arrest you on suspicion
alone.”

We stand
staring at each other for few moments. My mind is racing as I try
to think of a way to get out of this.

“Fine,” I say
eventually. “I’ll empty my pockets.”

A crowd has
formed outside the door of the bathroom, and the girls who wanted
to buy from me are trapped behind me. I fake reaching into my
pocket before kicking out at his knee. Hard.

He stumbles
slightly, and I take the opportunity to run past him. When I reach
the door, I slam right into the female officer who was accompanying
him, and send her sprawling on the floor. Her head snaps back, and
even over the din of the music, I can hear the loud thud.

I pause
momentarily, worried that I’ve severely hurt her. But my need to
escape is greater, and I start to take off. The crowd instantly
parts but a hand shoots out and grabs me by the hair. I kick back,
connecting with the shin of the first officer.

“Stop kicking
me,” he demands, his voice strained as he yanks on my hair.

In the small
space I have to move, I don’t have many options. I twist my body
toward him, feeling as though my hair is coming out by the roots,
and bring my knee up, landing the blow square in his crotch.

He makes a
sound like
ooff
as his face turns red, his eyes bug out and
water forms around their edges. He releases my hair. I run.

The crowd is
thick, but I make it through. I push and bump against bodies who
know I’m running, and bodies, who have no idea, and are still
dancing and laughing with their friends.

When I make it
outside, I make a beeline for the car, walking as fast as I can
without calling any extra attention to myself by running.

“We have to
leave,” I tell Jeff the moment I get into the car.

Without
questioning me, he starts the car, and we drive off at a normal
speed with me crouched down low and Jeff carefully watching our
surrounds.

“What
happened?”

“Cops.”

“Did they see
you?”

“Yes, one
grabbed me, and I accidentally knocked the other one out.”

“Shit Paige!
How could you be so careless?!”

“I wasn’t. I
was on my way out.”

He slams the
steering wheel. “FUCK!”

“I’m
sorry!”

“Did they get
the stash? The money?”

“No,” I tell
him, sliding up into my seat. “I still have everything.”

“Fucking stay
down Paige!”

I slide back
onto the floor. “I’m sorry,” I tell him again, trying my best to
stay strong and not start crying.

“Just… Just
stay down and be quiet. I need to make sure we’ve gotten out of
this.”

For the next
hour, we drive around aimlessly, while Jeff makes sure we aren’t
being followed by anyone. Once he feels safe that no one saw us
leave, he heads home.

My legs are
cramping, and my back is aching from being curled up in such a
small space for so long. I’m in pain, and I feel like a complete
failure. I just wish I could close my eyes and have the world
swallow me whole.

When we pull up
outside the house, Jeff cuts the engine and sits there for a moment
bouncing his leg in agitation.