Taylor

"You sure you're not in too much pain?" he asks, reclining back on the bed after having just deposited me down.

I shake my head and straddle him, feeling my cheeks grow hot, but ignoring it. Truth is, I hardly feel any pain in my ankle.

I slide my hands up his hard stomach, pushing his shirt up. He gasps as I reach his nipples.

"Take it off," I say hoarsely, my voice still kind of alien to my own ears, but I'm getting used to this new me. His cock is rock hard and I rub against it as he obeys me.

The overhead light is casting shadows across his bare torso, the valleys created by his muscles in complete darkness, the peaks shining gold. I could just look at him for hours, but I want to touch, and to taste.

He grabs my waist as I lean down and kiss his lips.

"No," I whisper barely breaking the kiss, and grab his wrists, pulling his arms up, so they're crossed behind his head again.

"Like this?" he asks, grabbing the headboard, his eyes gleaming, his grin wicked.

I nod, biting my bottom lip again. I have no idea what I'm going to do next, where this is going, but I'm following my instincts, letting my desire take the reins.

"Maybe you should tie me down though," he says. "Not sure I'm gonna be able to keep my hands off you otherwise."

"You will," I whisper. "You'll do what I want."

He smiles at me and nods. "Yeah, you're right."

And my whole body floods with a warmth so pleasant, I don't ever want it to recede.

I press my cheek against his. The stubble is finally there, hard and unyielding, like the rest of him and the sensation sends a jolt right to my core.

I kiss his cheek, then his jaw, his hard neck, all the way down to the little indent right between his collarbone. He tastes of lake water, fresh and earthy. In my mind we're still there, and I'm not scared this time. I want to stay there forever with him.

He gasps again as I brush my teeth over his hard nipple, my fingers caressing the dips and valleys of his stomach. He moves his arms to grab me again, but I react with lightning speed, holding them in place.

"Oh, come on, please," he groans, but I know he loves it.

I slide my hands down his arms as he flexes them even tighter. He's so strong and he's all mine.

I slide down lower on his legs, kissing my way down the center of his chest as I unbuckle his jeans, undoing the button and zipper slowly. His breaths are catching in his throat, and I can feel his desire, his need for me to touch his cock, lick it, permeating through my whole body.

But I'm not done tasting the rest of him, and I'm saving the best for last.

I go back to kissing his neck, his stomach, learning every groove, every part of him by heart. His eyes are glazed over when I finally look up, and I wink at him, wrapping my palm around his throbbing cock.

He bucks his hips, driving it through the opening in my palm, and I know how much he’s aching to just take me the way he wants it. But he stays put, his hands gripping the headboard, waiting for me to make my next move.

I kneel by his side and wrap my lips around his cock, eliciting another gasp. It turns to a groan as I take more of it in my mouth, slowly, testing my limits. Then I pull off, try to take more the next time. He's breathing hard, his inhales catching in his throat on each of my slow, deliberate downward strokes.

He's filling my mouth, and I want more, all of it. But I'm already gagging, can't take anymore of him. If anything, it makes his breathing hoarser, unsteadier, his eyes glowing again and it has nothing to do with the light.

I want him inside me.

He groans as I stop sucking, but his eyes turn dangerous again as I slide my panties off. I straddle him, running my naked, wet pussy along the length of his cock.

His arms twitch like he's about to grab me again, but a stern look from me stops him. I'm so ready, I'm shaking.

I position his cock at my opening, and I know he's trying real hard to not just push it in. I'm expecting the pain, am ready for it as I slide down to take him, but it doesn't come. He's lying perfectly still, but his whole body is taut in anticipation. I slide down further, reach my limit, pull up again.

I'm going really slow, feeling every inch of his throbbing cock as it passes over the sensitive spot, feel myself open up more, as I find the rhythm, slow and steady. The ripples of pleasure his cock is sending through me are beyond anything I ever expected. My whole body’s slowly unraveling, thread by perfect thread. With a final thrust down and a shriek, I come undone, seeing dark velvet waters as he comes too, flooding my insides.

His cock slides out, but I don't move off him. I want more of this, all night, all day. He moves his arms down, holds me, and this time I don't stop him.

I gaze into his eyes, all soft now, green like spring grass, and caress his heaving stomach, his chest. He's got scars, I can feel them now, and I want to make every one of them better.

My fingers catch on a circle of hard skin, just above his heart, my own beating faster now, panicked.

"You came very close to dying, didn't you?" I ask, my voice breathless and shaky.

His eyes lose some of the gleam. "Yeah, that one was the closest. A God damn sniper. Good thing he wasn't very good."

"Seems like he barely missed," I whisper.

"But he might as well have missed by a mile, getting me there," he says, his voice all firm and brave. "It healed in a couple of weeks, no lasting damage. This one though," he says and points at a slash in his side, almost hidden in one of the dark valley. "That one took some mending."

Lower down is the splash of burns and cuts radiating from his hip. I trace the bumps with my fingers. "And this one is the last?"

He nods. "But this part was just a flesh wound, the real problem was my back."

"I'm glad you got out," I whisper, my hand travelling back up to the scar over his heart. "That must be so hard, knowing you can die any day, I can't even imagine it."

He smiles at me. "I wouldn't want you to."

"Or I you," I protest.

“But I'm used to it. It's a rush really, after awhile you start to need more and more." He laughs at my shocked expression. I love the sound of his laugh, it's so rich and deep.

"Well, with you saying stuff like that, maybe you shouldn't put in that appeal," I say, shaking my head.

He laughs again, softer this time. "You shouldn't worry about me."

But I do. I slide off him and take his hand, bringing it to my lips. But I find another scar, right in the center of his right palm.

"And how'd you get this one then?" I ask, trying to sound stern, but failing because it scares me. "Did you try to stop a bullet with your hand?"

He glances at it, not laughing this time. "No, that one's much older. My brother gave it to me with a nail gun."

"Your brother Jesse?" I gasp. "By accident?"

"No, and no," he says, freeing his hand from my grasp and placing it on my butt. "That was my older brother, Theo, and he totally meant to do it. I actually almost lost the hand over it. It got all infected because I wouldn't show it to anyone."

"Why not?" I ask.

"I was like nine or ten, and very scared of Theo," he says and shrugs. "But I still got him back for it."

I have no personal experience with abuse, but my stomach is knotting up so hard from his pain, I can't even speak.

"And it healed, so it's fine now," he adds.

"Yes," I manage and bring his palm to my lips for another kiss. It's the only way I know to show him how much I care. No wonder he won't talk about his family, if they’re all such sadistic bastards. And here I am upset because my family just lets me do my own thing without too much interference.

He grins at me, his eyes all predatory and dangerous again. "Let's try not to ruin date night."

In one explosive moves he flips me over and covers me with his body, my shocked shriek lost in his kiss.

He's kissing me all over really, fast and urgent, my neck, my cheeks, my lips, my breast my stomach, even my pussy, the fire inside me rising again, washing away all the sadness, the hurt, until all I know is that I need him inside me.

He obliges like he can hear my thoughts, thrusting into me, but not too hard or too fast, just right. I let go completely, riding the wave to the inevitable, explosive, heart-stopping climax. My whole body is soft, yielding to his touches, his pulls and tugs, but mostly his thrusts.

The bed disappears from under me as I come, my mind a complete blank, my whole being just this pleasure he’s giving me. But he's not done yet, and his thrusts are breaking through my orgasm, rekindling it, and I come again and again, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, a never-ending circle of explosive pleasure.

I fall asleep in his arms later, my body completely spent, yet my soul still aching for more.

* * *

Adam

Hard banging on the door wakes me, has me reaching for my gun, before I realize I'm in a soft bed, with Taylor next to me, not in some tent out in the desert.

"Who is it?" she asks, her eyes all large and wide.

"I'll go see," I tell her, and reach for my jeans, pulling them on as I get up.

It's well past noon, I can tell by the shadows in the living room. I pull back the curtain covering the glass door. Sheriff Wade is standing on the porch, his cruiser blocking the driveway. He seems to have aged twenty years in the last eight since I saw him last.

"It's the sheriff," I tell Taylor who's standing in the bedroom doorway.

Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes growing even wider.

"Why?" she mutters through her fingers.

I shrug and scan the room for a shirt to wear, but all my clothes are back in the bedroom. "Let's find out."

The sheriff is just about to knock again when I open the door, Taylor standing beside me and sort of leaning on me.

"Adam, I was told I'd find you here," he says and clears his throat, eyeing Taylor. "Good afternoon, Miss."

She mumbles a greeting too, but she's so pale, she's green. "Has something happened?"

"No, don't worry. This does not concern you. I need to speak with Adam here," Wade says, his voice soft, even though he's glaring at me with all the meanness I remember. It's almost enough to turn my knees to jelly.

"What about?" I ask, more bravely than I feel.

"If you'll put on some clothes and come with me to the station," he says. "We'll talk there."

Taylor’s shaking, and there's no way I’m letting this man bully me again. Even though a large part of my mind is back in that interrogation room and I'm fifteen again, Wade accusing me of killing Davy. "It was an accident!" I can still hear myself yelling, and the sheriff let me go eventually, but it's the version of events that stuck, and I can still see the accusation in everyone's eyes whenever I go into town. I should never have come back here, nothing good could come out of it. Yet it did. I met Taylor here.

"Go inside," I whisper, giving her a little nudge when she doesn't move right away. Once she's inside I close the door firmly.

"So, what’s this about?" I ask, taking a few steps away from the door.

"We'll talk at the station, Adam."

"No, we're gonna talk right here," I tell him, with all the coldness I wish I could have mustered eight years ago.

Wade locks his eyes on mine; cold, aggressive-like, but I match his gaze. He's not rattling me this time.

"Your father went missing last night," Wade finally says. "Your brother Brad seems to think you had something to do with it. So I'm bringing you in."

"Missing like how?" I ask, bile rising in my throat. I did threaten the man yesterday.

"Missing…gone," Wade elaborates.

"Dead?" I ask, surprised that my voice cracks a little.

"No. But no one knows where he is. He disappeared while walking the dog last night," Wade explains.

My father never walks the dog.

"So how do you know he didn't just skip town, disappear?" I ask.

"Your brother and uncle are sure he wouldn't do that."

Brad's gonna get it for this.

"So you're saying you have no body, no proof that anything even happened, yet you want to question me?" I ask, concentrating on the sound of my voice to stay calm. "Not gonna happen. And I was here all night."

"Are you refusing to cooperate?" he asks warningly.

"I'll cooperate when there's need for it. This isn't it. And I'd appreciate not being harassed."

"Will the young lady corroborate your statement?" he asks, pointing at the door of the cabin.

"She will, if it comes to that." But I will keep Taylor out of this for as long as I can. "Now go."

"If you had anything to do with this—"

"Leave," I interrupt him in my best command voice.

He does, surprisingly enough, but I can't actually move even after his cruiser has already disappeared down the road.

"Is everything alright, Adam?" Taylor asks. I didn't even hear her come back outside.

"No," I answer, walking past her into the cabin. I should hold her, tell her everything is fine, but I'm so angry the world’s all blurry.

I head straight for the bedroom, finish getting dressed in seconds. She's standing in the doorway, bunching up her shirt in her fists. “Where are you going?"

"I need to take care of this shit."

"Your father's gone missing?" she asks in a very small voice, all shaky with fear and doubt.

"Oh, don't give me that shit! I was here with you the whole night, don't look at me like I had something to do with it!"

She's shaking visibly now, and the echoes of my yells are dying down to complete silence. It's not her I should be yelling at. She caused none of it, knows nothing about anything, and it's staying that way. Because if I tell her, she's gone. She'll just disappear from my life and I can't, I won't, I'll never let that happen.

I step closer and hold her arms, which is the most I think she'll let me do. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. This has nothing to do with you, or me for that matter, but I have to go and sort it out. But I'll be back later. And I hope you're still here then, and still want to see me."

She leans against me, wraps her arms around my waist, but they're sorta stiff, and I'm nearly certain this is all over. So certain I can't even take a full breath.

"I'll be here," she says and looks up at me.

I kiss her, but her lips aren’t as soft as before. Still, I wish the kiss could go on forever. But it can't, and I leave before it becomes impossible. Because I won't stand for any more harassment from the police, or my family.