Fuck. Crap. Shit.
I hate when he says things like that, because it makes me feel childish...and maybe that’s what I’m being, childish.
“Not goin’ to live the rest of my life tryin’ to tell you that what I felt for your sister is different. Not goin’ to tell you every day that you and she don’t even compare, because you’re two different people. Not goin’ to keep assuring you that you’re not second to me, that in fact, you were fuckin’ first. You wanna be in this with me, Tom Cat, or you don’t.”
“I do,” I whisper.
“Then we ain’t gonna talk about this anymore.”
I nod, swallowing.
“We’re goin’ to get out, get into your bed, and I’m gonna fuck you real slow. Then we’re goin’ to lie next to each other. I don’t cuddle, but I will rub your hair until you’re asleep.”
Shit.
How can something so blunt sound so fucking sweet?
“Okay.”
“Okay babe.”
We get out of the shower, and he does just that. He fucks me real slow, bringing me to orgasm twice more, then he lays beside me, ringed fingers in my hair, stroking until I’m asleep.
CHAPTER 12
PAST - SPIKE
“Stop worrying about her,” Cheyenne snaps, rubbing her fingers over her slightly swelling belly.
“She’s your fuckin’ sister, sunshine, she deserves to know.”
“She doesn’t answer the phone, she doesn’t want a part in this.”
“Don’t matter. She still deserves to know.”
“Why are you always on her side, Spike? I know you two were friends and all that bullshit, but honestly, sometimes I think you wish you picked her!”
I sigh. Here we fuckin’ go again. I love my wife, fuckin’ adore her, but fuck...she gets something in her head and she don’t let it go. On and on, around and around, we go on about Ciara and my friendship with her.
I’ve been tryin’ for motherfuckin’ years to get in contact with her and attempt to make things better, but she won’t hear it. My fault, really. I fucked her and treated her like shit. She thinks it was to get back at Cheyenne, and part of it was, but shit...most part was ‘cause I wanted inside that girl from the day she turned eighteen and it was the best fuckin’ night of my life. Cheyenne will never know that, though. No, she’d flip her fuckin’ lid.
“Enough of that shit, Cheyenne. We’ve talked about it, and I told you to fuckin’ stop bringin’ it up. I’m only thinkin’ of you and your relationship with her.”
“Yeah, one that she refuses to have because she doesn’t like that you picked me.”
I sigh again. “Don’t fuckin’ matter why, I think you need to tell her.”
“You know she hasn’t called Momma for months?”
Can’t say I blame her. Their mother is a cunt. Yep, a cunt.
“Your Momma treats her like a dog.”
Cheyenne crosses her arms. “She does not.”
“Babe, I’m done talkin’ about this. I’m sick of it and it’s startin’ to piss me off. If you want to keep goin’ on about it, I’m leavin’ to go and see the boys.”
Seeing that she’s not going to get any further with me, her eyes soften and she steps forward. “You know I love you, and I love Ciara, but this is my moment...I want to enjoy it. It’s not always about her.”
No, it’s never about her, that’s the fuckin’ problem.
“Yeah babe, whatever you want.”
“I love you, Spike...you know that...”
“I know.”
“And you love me?”
“Forever sunshine...”
And forever is a fuckin’ long time.
~*~*~*~
PAST - CIARA
“She was a virgin, you piece of shit!”
I can hear my sister screaming at Danny downstairs, but I can’t bring myself to move. Tears stream down my face, the reality of the situation crushing my soul. Danny had sex with me last night, and for a while, I thought it was because he wanted to. Turns out, it was all for Cheyenne’s benefit. She went off on one of her little fits, and decided to use another man to make him jealous. Angry, he came to find me, and one thing led to another. I didn’t tell him it was my first time. I came home, sobbing because I figured it out, and my sister found me. She asked me what happened, I told her, and everything came to light. She was jealous and angry, and I was downright heartbroken.
“I didn’t fuckin’ know!”
“How could you?! How could you fuck her, Spike?”
“Thought you were movin’ on. I was sick of playin your fuckin’ games.”
“So you fucked my sister to get back at me?”
That hurts, God, it hurts. I heave and my eyes burn from the salty tears continually leaking out of them. I wrap my arms around my mid-section and I cry and cry. A revenge fuck. That’s what I was. A fucking revenge fuck! I was no more than a way to get back at Cheyenne.
He broke me. He truly tore me apart. My body is aching, a reminder of what went on last night. I’m trying not to think about it, but the images are haunting me. The way he touched me, the way he ran his fingers over my body...god...he made it feel so real. I thought it was real.
“God, you taste so fucking good,” he growls, swirling his tongue around my clit.
I arch my back, gripping the sheets and whimpering his name. Over and over, his tongue swirls around my swollen nub, bringing me to orgasm embarrassingly fast. His fingers are deep inside me, pressing, causing me to become wet around him. His lips have been all over my body. Every part of me is now his.
I will never forget the moment he moves up my body. His eyes are on mine, and oh, I’m desperate to kiss him. He hasn’t kissed me, I don’t know why, and I don’t care. He’s here. He’s with me, and that’s all that matters. I watch with hooded eyes as he rolls on a condom. He removed the spikes; he must have taken them out before he came here, because I can’t see them and I’ve heard from enough sources that they’re there.
His body moves over mine, and he puts his lips to my shoulder, soothing me before he presses inside. A stab of pain travels through my body, and I take hold of him, whimpering. He pushes in further, growling loudly and tangling his fingers in my hair. I cry out, but it sounds so similar to a cry of pleasure that Danny doesn’t notice it’s that of pain, too. He sheaths himself, and then gently pulls back out.
“You’re so tight, baby, so tight.”
I shudder, and wrap myself around him, tilting my hips to meet each of his deep, intense thrusts. The pain eventually eases and is replaced by pleasure so powerful, my mind spins. I close my eyes, arching my back and whimpering his name as he moves. His growls combine with my whimpers, and we make a magical sound all of our own. I have imagined this many times over, but this, this is so much better than I could have ever dreamed up.
“She’s devastated!” Cheyenne screams, snapping me out of my moment.
“Then let me speak to her, and tell her I fucked up.”
“No, you’re going to stay away from her. She doesn’t want you, Spike...she is so angry at you right now. If you care about her at all, you’ll leave her alone.”
“Didn’t wanna fuckin’ hurt her!”
“Well you did, and you hurt me, too.”
“I fucked up,” he barks. “So did you.”
“I didn’t fuck someone else!”
“Fuck, Cheyenne...”
I cover my ears, getting to my feet. My body hurts, and my eyes burn. I reach under my bed and grip my suitcase. I toss my clothes and belongings into it, and I wipe my tears dry. I won’t cry another tear for Danny. Not fucking one.
I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much, my heart can’t handle another moment listening to them argue about me. Like I am just a huge mistake. I can’t watch him choose her, and I can’t sit around pretending like that wouldn’t bother me. It does, and I won’t live a second longer pretending it doesn’t.
I can still hear them arguing outside so I take my
things, and I head downstairs. They’re out the back of the house, so they don’t even notice that I’m moving around. They’re too busy arguing. I stop at my parent’s room on the way out and I take their savings in cash, then I take one last, long look at my house before heading out the front door. I get into my car, start it and, swallowing hard, I reverse it out of the driveway. No way in hell will I be anyone’s revenge fuck, and I certainly won’t live as second best.
I need to get out of here.
I just can’t do it anymore.
CHAPTER 13
PRESENT - CIARA
I hear a bellow of pain, and I jerk awake. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, and what’s happening. Spike is beside me, thrashing in the sheets. His body is covered in sweat and he’s arching his back, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles are white. He cries out again, tossing his head from side to side.
My heart begins to thump, and I feel awful for him. My stomach churns, because I know what he’s dreaming about. I know what he sees in his head every time he closes his eyes. He sees Cheyenne, and he shouldn’t have to see her. He’s living with so much guilt, and it’s slowly destroying him.
I gently reach over, touching his shoulder. “Spike, hey, it’s ok.”
He thrashes again, calling out her name. I swallow, and I can’t help it when I begin to cry. God, the poor man. I put my hand on his shoulder once more, shaking a little harder to try and get him to wake up. I know it’s risky; I’m touching a massive man who’s having a nightmare. He could easily swing his fist my way and cause big problems for both of us.
I can’t let him suffer any longer, though; he’s in pain. I shake him again, and he groans, fluttering his eyes open. I can see the moisture in them, and fuck, it hurts my heart. It really hurts. I don’t bother blinking my tears away.
“Hey, you’re okay, it’s okay.”
He stares at the roof for a moment, and then he turns his face to me. I can see he’s confused, but I can also see when reality dawns. He swallows, and his face...it’s broken. He’s broken.
God, what an idiot I’ve been. I never looked at the black and white of the situation. I can see it now, plain and simple. Spike is fucking broken because he witnessed his own wife being shot. That’s it. Plain and simple.
Tears thunder down my cheeks, and I reach across, gripping his face and running my thumb over the one tear that slides down his cheek. For a man like Spike, that might as well be him crying a waterfall.
“Baby,” I rasp. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you lost her.”
He heaves, and turns his face away from me. His body shakes so violently, it worries me, but I let him go. He needs to feel this. He needs to just feel. I place my fingers on his chest, and I can feel his heart hammering under them.
“I’m so sorry, Danny. So sorry I didn’t just see this for what it was. I thought of myself, and I didn’t think enough of you. You lost your wife and your baby. God, I’m so sorry for that.”
He makes a pained sound and sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He puts his head in his hands and his body starts shaking even harder. I put my hand on his back, and I scoot closer. He turns to the side, looking at me, cheeks wet with pain that runs so deep, even I could never imagine it.
I take his head, and I bring it down to my chest and he turns, wrapping his arms around my tiny body, and holding me so tightly I can hardly breathe. I let him. With my arms around his head, I hold him against my heart, letting him get it all out. If that takes all night, I’ll sit here all night.
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay.”
He doesn’t say anything, he just sits there, holding onto me like he never wants to let me go. My legs begin to ache, and his body grows heavier, but I don’t complain. He needs this.
All along, he’s just needed someone. He never had anyone to break to. His best friend was gone, his wife was dead, and he had no family. God, I was such a fucking bitch. I’m a terrible person.
I stroke his thick hair, swallowing back my tears. How selfish I was. I feel him begin to move, and I look down as he lifts his head and looks up at me. He reaches up, gripping my face. I let him. He brings his lips up to mine. I let him. He moves us, so his body is over mine and my back is on the bed. I let him.
Then his lips are on mine, soft, gentle, and sweet as hell. His hands are in my hair, stroking, gently soothing me, even though it’s him who needs to be soothed. I close my eyes, and tears slip heavily down my cheeks. He wipes them away, and he deepens his kiss. I spread my legs, letting him shift between them, and I gently place them on either side of his body. He pushes inside me, his cock hard and full, stretching me. He begins to move, slow, beautiful. More tears fall, because I realize what he’s doing.
He’s making love to me.
I reach up, running my fingers up and down his sweat slicked back. He rocks his hips, gently, beautifully, bringing me to the edge. I bury my face in his neck, and I breathe him in, not wanting this moment to end.
Not a sound passes between us, and that’s perfectly ok. We don’t need to say anything. There are no words that could ever describe what we’re both feeling right now.
Instead, he’s showing me. He’s showing me with his lips. He’s showing me with his body. He’s showing me with his heart. He rocks in and out of my body until I’m silently shuddering around him, my orgasm warming me from the inside out. He follows a moment later, burying his head into my shoulder and pulsing deep inside me.
Then we just lay there, both of us breathing heavily. I run my fingers up and down his back, tickling his skin softly. For a long while, he doesn’t move, but finally he rolls off me. He hooks one arm around my body, and takes me with him, making sure I land in the crook of his arm. I rest my head there, and we just lie in pure silence, neither of us wanting to speak—or perhaps we just don’t know what to say. How do you speak in a situation like this? He knows how I feel, I know how he feels, now we’re just leaning on each other, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the other person might take a touch of the pain away.
“She wanted to get in the car,” he rasps.
I blink, and then I realize what’s happening. He’s telling me what happened...he’s opening up. I stroke his abs, letting him know I’m listening.
“She didn’t ask questions, she just got in the car. She kept it cool, takin’ charge.
“She was fine, until she saw the bikes. She was okay, and then they showed up and she started to panic. Fuck, she was so scared. I’ll never forget how scared she was in that last moment.”
I heave, because I have never stopped to think about the moments before Cheyenne’s death, and how scared she must have been. I break. I start to cry so much that I can’t breathe.
I struggle out of Spike’s arms, and roll off the bed. He sits up, his eyes wide and confused as I stumble toward the bathroom. I reach the toilet, drop to my knees, and I throw up. I heave and heave, my body shaking with pain, and loss. I finally break down. I hated my sister for what she did. I hated that she was the golden child. I hated the life we had, but fuck, I loved her so much. I didn’t realize how much until right now, when Spike gave me an image of her terrified before she died.
I scream.
I scream and hit the sides of the bowl with my fists, and then I reach up and tangle my fingers in my hair. We never had a chance. Not a chance. We never had great parents, we were always treated differently and therefore we always treated each other badly. We were never encouraged to love each other. I was a bad sister, and she was amazing. If we had a chance, if our parents were normal, and our lives were different, we would have had the chance to just be sisters. To love each other. To fight for each other. To breathe for each other. To always have each other’s backs. To never hurt each other.
“Cheyenne,” I scream, pulling out strands of my hair. “Oh god, Cheyenne.”
Spike wraps his arms around me from behind, and he pulls me backwards. We crash onto the floor, and I scream again. He grips my fingers, pulling them
from my hair, forcing them down by my sides. Pinning them there, he holds me so tightly I can’t move.
“Cheyenne,” I bellow loudly. “I want her back. I want another chance. I want to be the sister I should have been. I want to defy my parents, and fight to show her we could have been so different. I want to fight and tell her not to touch you, and then she would have moved on and found someone else. God, I want her back.”
The words are broken, desperate and pathetic. Spike rocks me, backwards and forwards, as I wail for the sister I lost.
“I love her, I wanted her to know that. She never knew that because all we did was fight. I was so angry at her. Even after she died, I was so fucking angry at her. I never just told her I loved her.”
“She knew,” Spike rasps.
“No,” I sob.
“Yeah,” he says, pressing his face against mine and rocking us both harder.
“I’m so sorry, Spike. I’m so sorry about Cheyenne. I’m so sorry about your baby. I’m so sorry I was never there. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“Baby,” he soothes, his voice broken. “I know.”
“I want the pain to go away. It hurts,” I whimper.
“I know.”
He slows his rocking, and my tears gently begin to subside. When they finally stop, my eyes burn and my body hurts. It feels like I’ve run a marathon. Spike gently lets me go and he turns me around, running his finger over my puffy, red eyes.
“Fuck, Ciara, you’re hurtin’ me.”