TEN
Eli
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I hadn't done enough bad shit in my life, I had to go and mark up the one little bit of good I had going for me? I had to drag her down into my darkness with me?
I meant what I said.
I had never been into the BDSM scene.
Sure, I knew about it. Who didn't?
And, okay, I had used binding and wax and plugs and hair pulling and choking and bare-handed spanking in the bedroom before. But I hadn't ever bound a woman, plugged her, flogged her, then fucked her.
I sure as fuck had never left marks on a woman before.
That was just so far and beyond what I believed was acceptable between men and women. And while I understood there were absolutely women out there who liked to be whipped bloody, who got off by having marks on their skin, I just couldn't seem to convince myself that Autumn was one of them.
When I got home from the store, stomach swirling with an all-too-familiar disgust in myself, I hauled upstairs into my studio, working on a new piece, not knowing what I was going to make, but throwing those feelings into it.
Once I worked through the shame, getting that out of the forefront of my mind, memories of my confrontation with Hunter came about, and I abandoned one canvas for the next, a huge one, one that would likely take up a good portion of one of the walls.
They were my family
Except all the adults had their heads facing down.
And all the kids had no faces.
Even half done, it hurt to look at.
Knife, meet gut.
It was never going to end.
Not until I was off parole at least and could move, not when there was always a chance of running into them.
What the fuck was it going to feel like if I was driving down the street and saw Fee walking with the girls?
I couldn't imagine.
"Damn, that's dark."
"Jesus," I growled, whirling around to where Bobby was standing a few feet behind me.
"What?" he asked, looking innocent. "You didn't bother to lock it!"
"This might be a hard one to accept here, Bobby, but an unlocked door is not an invitation."
"What's got your panties in a bunch?" he asked, moving out into the hall as I walked toward him as well.
"I had a run-in with my brother this afternoon." I chose to leave out then consensually beat the shit out of a girl I had feelings for. Because, well, that one was just not somewhere I was willing to go.
"Which one?"
"Hunter, the tattoo artist."
"Ah, the one with the girls."
"Yeah," I agreed, feeling the grief well up, and forcing that shit right back down. I needed better control. The grief would turn to anger, and I couldn't slip up like that again.
"What'd he say?"
"He was angry," I told him, going into my fridge for the beer Bobby brought me that I wasn't supposed to have in the house. I really needed to get rid of the rest of it. Maybe in my fucking liver. Drown that shit down. That was why guys on parole weren't supposed to have alcohol, I supposed.
"Did you explain anything or just pull an Eli?"
"Pull an Eli?" I repeated.
"Yeah, you know what you do. You shut down or change the subject or shit like that. You never explain."
"There just isn't anything to explain. They need to let go and move on."
"They're your family, man. They're never gonna fucking let go or move on. They love you. They lost six years. They are going to do everything in their power not to lose any more."
The fuck was right.
That was the worst part.
And I didn't know how long my location would stay a secret, what lengths they might go through to get to me. Lord knew they had contacts everywhere. Hell, the only reason they knew I got arrested was because Detective Collings told them. True, he might be retired now, but he still had buddies on the force. If he pulled some strings, he might have been able to have someone bring up my DMV records that I had just needed to update the day before, realizing my license had expired and I had been driving like that. It was the little shit like that, man, that was sure to get you sent back in.
Or, maybe they would reach out to Alex or Jstorm or even Barrett Anderson to find me, hack around until they got what they needed.
If they wanted to, they could find me.
I didn't know what the fuck I would do when that happened.
Not if, when.
It was nice to get out a little early, but parole was making it impossible to be anonymous. If I got out on time served, I could have gone anywhere. I could have fallen off the face of the Earth. I could have truly started over.
"You gotta figure this shit out, man. It's gonna eat you up. You're more down out here than you were on the inside." He wasn't exactly wrong about that. "Seemed to be shaping up with the new fuck-buddy. Maybe you need to go visit her."
I couldn't.
That was the problem.
I did feel better with her.
I felt better.
Flogging her was a release, sure. But it felt even more right to hold her after, to stroke her hair, to just be near her. It was the closest to happy I had been in six goddamn years.
Because I needed the former part of that from her, I might lose the latter.
That shit, yeah, it was proving hard to accept.
It shouldn't have felt that way.
I wasn't supposed to be making any connections, let alone ones that could run deep enough to hurt someday.
Yet here I was.
Fucking moron that I was.
"Yeah, maybe," I agreed, tipping back my beer, finishing it.
"Alright, I can tell when someone wants to be alone with their fucked up thoughts," Bobby declared. That was a bit of a new one. Inside, the man would never leave me the hell alone, even if I told him to. But, I guess, on the outside, he had a house and a woman, and, well, drugs to sell. "I'll see you sometime tomorrow, man. Buck up. You're out. Out is better than in even if out sucks."
With that, he was gone.
He was right, too.
Out was better than in even if out sucked.
For example, I got to have lights on until two AM so I could keep working on my pieces.
That, at least, was an improvement.
After that, too beat to keep my eyes opened, I showered and fell into bed, not bothering to set an alarm.
I saw those lashes.
I had gotten my ass handed to me enough times growing up to know how those were going to feel given a little time.
She wasn't coming.
When I heard the slamming at seven-thirty in the morning, I rolled over to stare at the ceiling, cursing Bobby as viciously as my vocabulary would allow.
Seven?
Fucking seven?
What was wrong with him?
But, knowing Bobby, if I didn't drag my ass down there and open the door, he would climb in through a damn window or some shit.
On that note, I rolled out of bed in my black and white plaid pajama bottoms and made my way downstairs, trying to work the cricks out of my neck as I reached for the locks.
Coulda knocked me over with a gentle fucking breeze when I saw Autumn standing there, Coop's leash in one hand, and a bag and tray wobbling a bit ominously in the other.
Her eyes drifted over me, spending a little extra time on my bare chest and stomach before flying back up a bit guiltily. Once she was looking at my face again, she shook her head. "You shouldn't have said anytime after seven if you like to sleep later than that!" she accused, prompting Coop to bark along with her from his position on his ass, bouncing around though like maybe he had been given a command to sit and stay, and was trying really hard to obey even though he was excited.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, voice sleep-rough even to my own ears.
"We had an agreement. If I didn't hate you or regret what we did, I show up here, and we move on. I don't hate you or regret what we did. Oh, and Peyton would like to know if any of your brothers are single and similarly rough sex inclined."
"Peyton knows?" I asked, feeling that shame shit rear its ugly head again.
"Yeah, I asked her to help me put some aloe on. The marks were mostly gone by the time I got home. My skin is sensitive, but it recovers fast. Relax," she added, giving me an easy smile. "Peyton is into this kinda thing. She certainly doesn't think any less of you for it. But I am under threat of her donning her creepy clown mask again and scaring the shit out of me if I don't get an answer about the brothers."
I felt my lips curve up, shaking my head. "They're all taken."
"Pity. She's not going to like that. Well, anyway. I'm here. I brought coffee and food and this hellbeast who thought that my purse was a good chew toy this morning," she explained, curving her shoulder to show me the half-gnawed leather strap.
"Little shit," I said affectionately, reaching down to unclip his collar. "Go hog wild. There's nothing you can destroy in here," I told him as he bolted.
"See, now that wasn't very smart. He is going to see that as a challenge."
She moved to take a step forward, but I stepped in front of her, raising my arm to rest on the doorjamb, leaning down to catch her gaze. "Seriously, honey, what are you doing here?"
She exhaled hard at that, like something I said was pissing her off, but she was trying to control her frustration.
"Listen," she said, putting her now-free hand on my hip. "I get that you have this shitty, warped opinion of yourself right now, and it's hard for you to see through any other kind of lens. But that isn't how I see you. And short of you telling me to fuck off, I'm not going anywhere. So just buck-up and get used to it, sparky," she demanded, hand moving from my hip to tap into the center of my chest.
"Sparky?" I asked as she pushed past me to move inside.
"Yep. You're doing renovations?" she asked, looking around.
"The place was a wreck. Those cabinets were a yellow from hell," I explained, waving my hand at the fresh white coat of paint they had on them. It was a temporary fix. They actually needed to get torn out and replaced. But I wasn't sure how long I was going to be there, and it was stupid to sink a ton of money into a place you might be leaving. It just needed to be livable.
"What are you going to do with the floor?" she asked as she made herself at home, putting the food and coffee down on the pop-up table I was using until I figured out a furniture situation. "And the countertops?"
"Probably some kind of tile. On both."
"No," she said, shaking her head as she took the coffees out of the cupholder.
"No?" I asked, smiling a little at the eye roll she did, likely not thinking I would see it with her head ducked.
"You don't want tile on the counter. The grout gets dirty and looks awful. Something solid."
"Is that an offer to come with me to the home improvement store?" I asked, smiling at the way her head snapped up and her eyes brightened.
I knew that look.
And I knew it meant nothing but trouble for me.
And likely hurt for her.
Hope.
That was the purest look of hope I had seen in a long fucking time.
"Well, I can certainly do no worse than tile," she quipped, likely picking up on her own tells, and wanting to cover them.
"What did you bring me?" I asked, moving closer as she pulled food out of the bags.
And, unlike what Bobby brought me, this wasn't wrapped in parchment paper dripping with grease. Don't get me wrong, that shit was welcome after years of awful food in prison. But I couldn't help but wonder what kind of breakfast foods required fancy brown folded takeaway containers.
"Apple-stuffed brioche French toast with a side of breakfast potatoes annnnnd..." she said, digging through the bag for a fifth container, "fruit to share."
"Apple-stuffed brioche French toast with potatoes and you thought fruit was necessary."
"Balance," she said with a smile. "Like how I'm going to hoover all this, have a sensible salad for lunch, then have something cheesy and fatty for dinner. Balance."
"I'm pretty sure that doesn't exactly..."
"Shut it," she cut me off, small-eyeing me as she sat down to open her biggest container. "No one needs that negativity in their lives."
"You mean the truth?"
"Yeah, that shit," she agreed, giving me a smile that I swear lit up my entire sad, dark, dank fucking home.
I opened up the boxes in front of me as she opened the fruit we were to share. I'll be damned, they even had little containers of syrup nestled inside with the three fluffy pieces of apple-stuffed toast. It smelled what a foodgasm sounded like, in case you were wondering.
And the potatoes were extra brown and perfectly seasoned.
And I was pretty sure I gained ten pounds from the one meal alone.
It was worth every last one of them too.
I sat back, hand on my stomach, reaching for my coffee.
"Where the fuck are you putting it all?" I asked as she unfolded and flattened her container. I felt like I was going to burst, and she was smaller than me and seemed to have no such issue.
"I think you forget just how much walking Coop requires in a day. If I don't eat, I will be all skin and bones," she told me as she got up and walked over to my side of the table, planning to fold my container as well.
"Yeah, wouldn't want that," I agreed, reaching up to snag her waist, pulling her down on my lap, my hand sliding up her side to rest at the side of her breast, left without a bra, as I imagined she would be for at least another day or two. "Thanks for breakfast," I told her, my hand moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear so I could see her face better.
"You're welcome," she said, ducking her gaze almost a little shyly, which wasn't a look I was used to seeing there.
"What's..." I started, only to be interrupted as Coop came barreling into the room with one of my shoes in his mouth.
"Coop!" Autumn hissed, jumping up from my lap to chase him around the living room. Which, apparently, he still saw as much of a game now as he used to as a puppy.
"Leave it," I said, shaking my head as I got up, snagging her waist again, and pulling her down with me onto the couch that I had managed to snag at Target of all fucking places. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but it was furniture, and I had been able to bring it home that day, not wait three weeks for delivery. "It's a work boot. There is literally steel in it. Even he can't fuck those up."
"I like your couch," she said, running her hand over the charcoal-colored material. "This is one of those that they pass off as a sofa bed too, right? Like it lays down flat."
"Think it said something about that."
She turned to me, brows drawn together. "You're fixing up and furnishing, but you don't seem to care about any of it."
"I don't know how long I'm staying. Don't want to drop a ton of money into some other man's property."
"I used to say that. For years. Then I finally caved and started making the place how I like it."
"You have a nice home, Autumn," I agreed, giving her hip a squeeze.
It was homey, but not frumpy. She had nice floors, great counters, carefully selected furniture. But there were personal touches too. She had a couple collages down the hallway of her and her sister at birthday parties, concerts, on holidays, vacations. Peyton's books were lying around wherever she left them. There were blankets piled on a spare chair for movie watching.
It was comfortable.
You could settle in there.
I didn't want to settle in here.
I guess that was the difference.
"It's coming along," she agreed, smile proud. "That darn bathroom is my next project."
"I can help."
"You can?" she asked, brows drawn together.
It was right then that I realized, while we knew a lot about personal preferences, the things we enjoyed and were passionate about, there was still quite a bit she didn't know about my past.
"Loansharking aside, we all had legit businesses. My brother Mark has a construction company. I pitched in when he needed extra men on a job."
"What were your businesses?"
"Have a car rental place, a gas station, and a tutoring center - one of those chain type places."
"That is an interesting array of things."
"Pops always advised us to get into things that have an almost guaranteed chance of success. Everyone needs fuel, especially at the far side of town where my place is. It's the only game over there. Car rental is big around here. The tutoring center was a bit of a gamble, but it seems to be paying off well enough." More than. People would scoff about the passive income I had coming in from those three businesses combined, and here I was, planning to give them all up.
"Have and is."
"Sorry?" I asked, brows drawing close.
"You said have and is. Present tense. You still own those businesses?"
"Technically, yes."
"Technically?"
"I plan to sign them over to my family, but I have to work out the kinks of that. Ryan has obviously been taking care of things since I've been away. I got paid every month when I was inside."
"Why would you give all that up?"
"Because it's the past."
"And you can't have any ties to that anymore," she concluded, understanding, but if I wasn't mistaken, not exactly approving the mentality.
"Something like that, yeah."
She was quiet for a minute, seeming to mull something over. "Okay, there's no delicate way to put this," she started.
"I'm fine with indelicate, sweetheart. I just spent six years in prison. Rude was the norm."
"Okay. So you have three successful businesses that have been going strong since you went away. You are driving a brand new off-the-lot truck. So why..."
"Am I living in this dump?" I finished for her, smile big.
"Ah, well, yeah."
"I have my old apartment sitting just as I left it."
"But your family knows where that is."
"Exactly."
"You're really not going to see any of them?"
"I saw Hunter yesterday," I admitted, not knowing why I would. It was going to open up a dialog about something that I didn't want to discuss.
"Oh," she said, eyes going keen. "That makes sense then."
"I don't want it to happen again," I told her, hand going to her jaw, running my fingers along it.
"Well, I do," she said, shrugging. "Well, I mean. I don't want you getting that upset because of family stuff again," she clarified. "But I like bossy-Eli. He's kinda hot," she added, smile devilish.
My cock stirred at that, making me need to take a deep breath. "Turn for me," I demanded softly, pressing her hip to show her what I meant. She did, settling her feet on the ground between my legs, her ass on the tops of my thighs.
My hands moved out, grabbing the material of her shirt, and slowly dragging it upward. She took it from me as it got high, pulling it fully off.
She was right.
She healed fast.
The marks that had been raised like welts, and so red they were almost bloody, had flattened out, and were a much more subdued shade of red, not raw and painful-looking.
Still marks.
Still pain I had etched into her skin.
But so much better than it was.
"See?" she asked, leaning back into my chest. "Almost all better. Tomorrow, it will look like nothing happened."
I should have been focusing on her words, finding some solace in them, reassuring myself that I hadn't lost complete control.
But her shoulders were against my chest, her breasts bared, her nipples already hardening.
Any man who could focus with that before him didn't fucking deserve her there in the first place. My hands moved around and up from her hips, sliding over the skin of her stomach, before cupping the full, incredibly soft swells of her breasts. My thumbs grazed her nipples, making a shiver move through her body.
"Hey Eli?"
"Yeah, baby?" I asked, doing another swipe.
"Bossy Eli is hot," she reiterated. "But sweet Eli is pretty hot too."
I leaned over, pressing a kiss into her temple as my fingers took her nipples and rolled them, making her hips buck back into me, settling her ass fully over my already straining cock. With her strange, lightweight linen pants, there might as well not have been any barrier at all. When she shifted slightly to let my cock press against her, I could feel the scorching heat of her pussy through both our thin pants.
On a growl, I rocked my hips upward as she simultaneously worked her hips in a circle.
I swear I could feel the moan she let out in my balls.
But I needed to keep control.
After the somewhat rough first time and the too-rough second, I wanted to take my time with her. I wanted to show her that I could do softer and sweeter too.
A woman like her deserved that.
And I was going to fucking give it to her.
My hands drifted down her belly, her skin goose bumping at the contact. "Lift up," I demanded softly as my hands snagged the waistband of her pants and panties. Her hips lifted with a small grumble at losing contact with my cock. I couldn't help but hold back a smile as I pushed the material down. Once it was at her knees, she kicked it off, settling back down on me with only my thin pants as a barrier.
My hand slid between her thighs, stroking up her already wet pussy to work her clit with my thumb.
"Oh, my God," she whimpered, rocking herself against my hand. My forefinger drifted down, sliding between her lips, then sliding inside her hot, wet pussy.
Her arm rose up, slipping behind my neck, holding on as my finger fucked her - slow, soft, unhurried, driving her up as slowly as her insistent grinding would allow.
"Eli, please," she begged as my free hand went to her breast, squeezing gently, then working circles around the bud. "Please," she tried again, reaching out toward the makeshift coffee table - a TV dinner stand - for her purse, fumbling for a condom, pressing it into my hand. She pulled her legs under her before leaning back against me, allowing her to lift up so I could slip the condom on.
"Here," I said, reaching for her hand before I protected us, taking it and pressing it between her thighs. "Touch your pussy for me," I demanded as I worked my cock out. She immediately complied as I stroked my cock before slipping on the condom. "Come on," I said, grabbing her waist, pulling her back and down, positioning her over my straining dick. "Take me in," I demanded softly.
She lowered down, taking me to the hilt on a soft moan.
She had barely taken me before she was rocking against me. Her hand stayed at her clit, so both of mine went to her breasts, squeezing, and teasing over her nipples as my head shifted so I could press my lips into her neck.
Her moans became desperate whimpers as my cock started thrusting upward into her, slow, almost lazy as she kept rocking, kept working her clit.
"Eli..."
"Come for me, Autumn," I demanded, feeling my own growing need for release.
"I..."
"Shh," I urged, reaching down to press my finger into hers, putting more pressure on her clit. "Just let go," I instructed her.
Then she did.
If I lived another fifty years, I was sure there would still never be a better feeling in the world than her pussy squeezing me as she came.
I came on the tail end of her orgasm, her name on my lips as I did.
She collapsed back against me, her hand reaching out for mine, squeezing, as she tried to get her breath back.
"That was it, right?" she asked a long moment later.
"That was what, sweetheart?"
"That was us moving past... everything. You can stop feeling weird about it or whatever. Right?"
I smiled as I pressed a kiss to her neck. If only it were truly that easy.
"Yeah, that was us moving past everything," I told her, even though I wasn't entirely convinced it was a promise I could make.
"Good," she said, giving my hand another squeeze. "Ugh, I don't want to go to work," she admitted, taking a deep breath. "I want to stay right here," she added, then almost immediately stiffened up at her words.
Like maybe she was worried they were wrong.
Like maybe she thought she shouldn't feel that way.
She probably shouldn't. Not about a man like me.
But she did.
And I was the luckiest sonofabitch in the world to have that.
So there was no way I was going to let her think that was in any way wrong.
"I wish you could stay right here too, sweetheart. But you have anal beads to sell."
She let out a surprised laugh/snort hybrid that vibrated from her and into my chest. "Oh, yes. Heaven forbid people go one day without their new anal beads," she said, lifting up, and sliding off me, going in search of her clothes.
"What are you doing after work?" I asked as I stood, pulling my pants into place.
"Ah... nothing really. I had no plans."
"How about you have your salad you planned on for lunch, but I take you out for something cheesy and fatty instead of you eating at home alone?"
You'd have thought I'd offered her a goddamn diamond ring, not just an invite to dinner. She lit the fuck up.
I so, so did not fucking deserve her.
Someday, she would see that herself.
But that day wasn't today.
Today was the day she agreed to going out with me, then gave me a kiss that made me see through time and goddamn space before she rushed off to work, leaving Coop with me for the day.
He sat down, watching the door with a whine.
"Yeah, buddy," I agreed, petting his head. "I think I am starting to feel how you feel about her leaving."
And that was going to blow the fuck up in my face eventually.
Even knowing that, though, wasn't going to stop me.