Use Me (Caldwell Brothers)

That was my only warning before his hot mouth hit my pussy in wild abandon, teasing me with his tongue at my opening before sliding it over my clit. He then dropped his fingers, moving his head to directly under me.

He ate me like a man starved and savoring his last meal, all the while massaging my inner thighs. The sensations overwhelmed me, and I swore the couch was the only thing holding me up as orgasm after orgasm ripped through me.

My body trembled when he moved away, giving me a small break before he slid his cock inside to the hilt.

“Jonathon, you fill me!” I moaned as he slid out then thrust back in.

My body was weak as he set the pace. Every time I thought I couldn’t take more, he slid out and rolled back inside at a different angle, making my body come alive once again.

I moaned, screamed, squealed, and shook in ecstasy before he stilled, and then I felt his hot come fill me.

He pulled out and guided me to stand. I felt the trickle down my leg, but I didn’t have the energy to move or try to clean it up right that second.

Jonathon smiled. “That look of satisfaction in your eyes, Annie, that’s my heaven.”

“Mmmm,” I managed to purr.

“Gotta get back to work. Stay naked, right here like this, till I get off. I’ll bring dinner, and you’ll be my appetizer and my dessert.”

“I wish I had the time. I have to work too.”

“Till tomorrow, then,” he said on a sigh.

And till tomorrow I will be deliciously sore.

My heart pounds irregularly, anticipating what will come later. Will Angelo read this and give me this very scene? What will he respond back with in this game of Mad Libs?

It takes me a few moments to compose myself, my thoughts. I decide I’m going to give every moment I can to Angelo and what we can have together.

Chapter Twenty - Two

With each passing day, Tatum and I share more. The lines between Annie and Jonathon are blurred. Can fiction be reality? Is this still about her writing a book? Or is it about us?

I mop the gym’s floors, lost in thought. Another week, and then she will be heading back to New York.

“We got men to do that,” Jagger calls out from behind me.

I look up and shrug my shoulders. “Not gonna ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.”

Jagger steps aside briefly, returning with a mop in his hand. “Guess we can mop it out together.”

“I can do it,” I argue.

“Shaw left this to us. Equal responsibility. We may not always see things the same, Kid, but I respect you.”

I almost want to physically stumble at his words. The only man who ever respected me was my father. Maybe Shaw, too, but he never said one way or another.

“Tatum; can’t shake it?” Jagger asks, swiping the mop back and forth.

“Don’t wanna go there.”

He only laughs. “Been there myself. You ever think she’s here to save you from yourself?”

“She’s here to use me.”

He stops mopping and grips my shoulder.

I look up fiercely. “Touching, Jagger.”

“Need your attention.” He gives a firm nod. “Don’t miss what’s right in front of your face. You’re a good man, Angelo. Shit hand dealt to ya by life; I get that. Your future doesn’t have to be defined by your past. It’s okay to hold on to something good while you have it.”

“You Caldwells and all your good bullshit.”

He releases me and goes back to mopping. “Call it bullshit, call it whatever, but one thing you can’t do is ever take away the good.”

When Maria died, after I killed him, I stood over her while I waited for the police. Then I sat there, listening to the sirens in the distance as I whispered to my sister, “I did a bad, bad thing, but sister, I did it for a good reason.” I let a tear fall from my face onto hers that day, and then closed up my fucking soul.

I let the cops, the paramedics, the town, and everyone else think whatever the hell they wanted. The truth didn’t matter. Who came after who first didn’t change a thing. My sister was still dead.

Sometimes, we have to do a bad thing for a good reason.

I can’t leave Michigan. Tatum’s life is in New York. She has been held back for far too long by Gregory. It’s my time to let her go.

Just before Jagger leaves, he stops and looks at me as I finish the last sweep of the mop. “Don’t miss out on something to punish yourself. In the end, you’re hurting more than either of you should. We only get one life.”

***

Pounding the bags does nothing to calm me. Running until my calves burn beyond what’s healthy does nothing to touch the agony in my mind. Therefore, I find myself in front of the sign for Caldwell’s Bar. I only entered it once before, and I never intended on coming back.