Michael and Christina could be over because of it. And maybe Michael deserves it to be over. But does Christina deserve to have her entire life destroyed?
And though I don’t think Christopher would blame me or think I truly wanted any part of it, I wonder if it will just be one more thing that makes me a victim in his eyes.
Again.
I don’t want to be a victim over and over again.
I’m fucking tired of being weak.
I’m tired of the damn tears.
I don’t want to be afraid and in need of a Prince Charming to save me.
Life is fucking tough. The real world isn’t a fairy tale. And I need to learn that. I need to deal with it. I need to survive it. I need to. Me. Not anyone else.
So, no. I won’t tell anyone about Michael. How I choose to handle that situation will be up to me. Me.
“Thank you,” I finally say, breaking from the kiss. “It’s beautiful up here. It’s like a storybook, magical area. I love the fairy lights and the fountain. I love it all.”
He smiles and looks around. “My mother is a damn vampire, so I’m not worried about her coming up here. It’s all yours. I’ll work on getting the attic cleaned up too so it’s not so dusty for you when you do come.”
“I needed this,” I confess. “The room is getting to me, and the house… well, the house is your mother’s. I needed this.” I lean in to kiss him again. “You always seem to know the exact right thing to do for me.”
Needing to end the night with the last touch on my body to be from my husband rather than Michael’s drunken molestation, I swing my leg over his lap and mount him, lowering my lips to his again. I bring my hand to his zipper and free his cock from the restraints with a skill I’m happy to be gaining as my sexual experience increases. I like the power I have when it comes to sex. As I grip his dick, hear his gasp, and watch his eyes close, I savor the control I’m in.
“I love you,” he growls as I begin rubbing my palm up and down the shaft. I’m watching his face as I do so.
“I know you do,” I say, applying more pressure as I stroke. “And I love you.”
And for a splitting moment, I wonder if love is enough. When the world is determined to keep you apart, can you fight off all the enemies? Papa Rich, Scarecrow, Louisa, Marissa, Michael… ghosts who haunt us to the brink of madness. Can we fight them off? Is it possible?
Christopher takes hold of my hips and gets ready to flip me over, but I stop him.
“No. I want to make you come.” I tighten my grip on his cock. “Like this. I want to watch your face as you come in my hand.” I lift his shirt up so I can see his bare chest and the ripple of his abs. “I want to see your cum spill all over your smooth skin.”
His breath hitches, his head falls back, and with an open mouth, he moans. He’s getting pleasure from me and no one else. It’s just the two of us. No one else.
“God, that feels so good,” he praises as his cock grows even harder and bigger in my ministrations.
I jack him off, watching every facial expression, listening to every sound of pleasure. I tighten, I loosen, I speed up, and I slow down. He’s close, and I know it. I love it. He’s going to do exactly what I want him to do.
I’m in control.
My choice.
My decisions.
I’m in control.
23
Ember
If I don’t change, I’m going to be stuck in time.
I know this, and although I feel like I’m taking steps forward, there’s always something that happens that pulls me back.
I see shadows.
I hear whispers.
I try to pretend they aren’t there, but they are.
The ghosts of Hallelujah Junction still haunt me.
The Feds notified Christopher yesterday that there had been several sightings of Richard. In Nevada, in California, Wyoming, and now Virginia. He’s getting closer and closer to New York, and I know why.
He’s coming for me. And no matter how much Christopher reassures me that he isn’t and that I’m perfectly safe, I know the opposite. Christopher’s wrong in this case. So very wrong.
And then there is Louisa Davenport.
She hates me. I see it. She wants me to go crazy. I see her smile every time I get spooked or am uneasy. She takes pleasure in my fear, but I can’t tell Christopher this. It’s his mother. He loves her. He won’t believe me on this either. But I know she’s waiting for me to snap so she can send me away to a mental institute. I’m not blind. I see her waiting. Waiting.