Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax (14 page)

Finally, I push on her stomach. “Lie back,” I order and she complies. Then I touch the tip of my tongue to her clit, and smile to myself as her hips buck off the bed.

I have my shoulders between her thighs, with one hand spreading her wide for my mouth, and the other flat against her stomach to keep her still. She tastes like green apples and woman, and my heart races as I dip inside her. “Oh my God,” she moans, and I rub tiny circles on her clit as I stroke tiny circles inside of her with my tongue.

Her hands weave into my hair and clutch at it frenetically. I can tell she’s close to coming apart, and I increase my pace, darting in and out of her while stroking that little button of pleasure that makes her writhe.

“Pax,” she cries out and her hips buck up against my mouth hard. I slip the hand from her waist under her
ass, and suck long and hard. She explodes, a cry ripping from her throat, her muscles contracting repeatedly. When all the tension finally leaves her body, I ease her hips back onto the bed and kiss my way up her torso.

She puts her arms around my neck as I reach her mouth, and then she kisses me hard, thrusting her tongue into my mouth the way I thrust mine into her core just moments before. The fact that tasting herself on me does not bother her is such a turn-on I can’t think straight, and I can’t help but pump against her, my cock sliding through her slick folds.

“Ah,” she cries out. “Still so sensitive.”

I pull back. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Just tell me what you want.”
      “I want you inside me, moron,” she huffs. “Please tell me you’ve got a condom.”

I can’t help but smile. “Yes, babe, I’ve got a condom, just a minute.” I lift up onto my knees and dig through my nightstand, then rip the foil with my teeth and roll it on, hissing at the sensation of anything touching my incredibly hard dick.

I move back over her, forearms alongside her head. I kiss her softly on the lips. “You ready?” I ask.

She nods. “Pax?”

I push a lock of hair off of her cheek. “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m not a virgin—“

“Thank God,” I exhale, the possibility not even having occurred to me. I drop my head to her shoulder. “I’m not sure I could have handled that.”

She smiles. “But I’ve only done it two other times, and it wasn’t all that great.”

“Did it hurt?” I ask.

“Yeah, and I don’t think they were too concerned about whether I enjoyed it, if you know what I mean.”

“Then they were idiots, and not worth your time. And it’s not going to hurt baby. I just got you nice and ready, I promise, this is all about you. Whatever it takes to make this great for you, that’s all I want.”

Her eyes narrow. “Riiight. You don’t want anything out of this for yourself?”

I chuckle. “Well, I guarantee, if you’re happy, I’ll be happy right afterwards. It’s not rocket science.”

She kisses me and I kiss her back, our breaths growing more and more raspy, until I feel her reach down between us and guide me to her. Slowly, carefully I push in, nearly undone by how tight and warm she is. When I’m halfway to home she arches against me and there I am, to the hilt, enveloped by her. And I never want to leave.

“You okay?” I whisper.

“So much more than okay,” she answers. Then she pushes against me, and nature takes over. I pump in and out, both of us finding a rhythm quickly like we always do around one another. My heart is racing and my head is buzzing with the most delicious high I’ve ever felt. It’s like I’ve found the one place I was always meant to be—inside Carly.

When I don’t think I can take it anymore, I move my hands under her ass and lift, changing the angle. She moans immediately and freezes, convulsing around my dick until I come harder than I ever have in my life.

When we’ve both wrung every moment of pleasure out of it that we can I dispose of the condom, then collapse next to her on the bed, pulling her halfway onto me and running my fingers up and down her back, just feeling her skin that’s like cream.

“So, did I keep my promise?” I ask, feeling pretty confident about what the answer will be.

“You know you did, you just want to make me sing your praises so your giant head can get even bigger,” she chides.

“Baby, my head isn’t giant right now, but give it a few minutes and it’ll be ready to go again.”

She slaps me on the chest and chuckles. “That was amazing,” she whispers. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m just following your lead.” Then I turn to my side, resting my head on one bent arm. “You need to know something.” She looks at me, waiting patiently with that doe-eyed look that she gets. “I’m falling for you Carly. And I’m not scared by that, and I hope you’re not either.”

She shakes her head, swallowing before she answers. “I’m falling for you too, Pax. Promise me that you’ll still be here to fall for when this is all done.”

“Anything for you, babe.”

As the days go by I savor the moments with Carly, just as I do the times when Vaughn and I sit on the back patio with beers in hand, watching the gulls, the waves, and possibly the girls—although my official stance is that only Vaughn is watching the girls. We watch the people come and go along the wide strip of sand, and we see the water ebb and flow, tides in and tides out, bringing seaweed, foam, and the scent of sea life.

We talk about anything but home. Sports, music, his work, and mine. We talk about Lagazo. We speculate on why he’s keeping me chained so closely when he doesn’t use me for anything important. We can’t solve the conundrum, so we go back to talking about sports and music and work. Then we rinse and repeat.

All three of us—Carly, Vaughn, and I—are in this strange limbo, waiting for the thirty days to be up so that we can get back to our regular lives. I don’t think about what the end of the thirty days will mean to Carly and me. I just think about how good it is to see Vaughn again, about that recording contract, and about holding Carly’s sweet hand in mine. But I don’t think about Portland. Ever.

“Carly!” I yell out the back door toward the beach. I just got home from teaching a guitar lesson at the music shop, and Vaughn is in Birmingham until later tonight. “Do you want some Chinese for dinner?”

I watch as she sits up, her hot-pink bikini glowing against her tan skin, her long hair in some sort of messy knot on the top of her head. She’s the hottest girl on the beach, no doubt.

She turns to me, her oversized sunglasses making her look a little like a goggle-eyed fish. She flashes a thumbs-up and then stands and starts brushing sand off her legs.

I hurry back to the computer to order the food, thinking I can squeeze in a quick dip in the water myself before dinner arrives.

As I’m completing the order, I notice something strange. The online storage system for my computer has been turned off. I always start my compositions out on paper, the old-fashioned way, but I quickly transfer them to my laptop, and having a backup storage system is essential. Nothing like working on a composition for days then discovering you’ve lost it all in a power surge. Rookie mistake—one I made when I was seventeen.

I click on the storage icon, and when it opens, everything looks like it’s there, including the newest version of the song I’m writing about Carly. She doesn’t know yet, but I’m hoping to play it for her soon. Then I notice a file I’ve never seen before—and certainly didn’t create. It’s called “Lush,” and I click on it as something deep in my gut clenches, and not in a good way.

It’s a simple document, black words typed on a white page, the words “Lush” over and over and over—for an entire page. My head is buzzing and my stomach is swirling as the letters blur in front of my eyes. I didn’t create this document. Who the hell has had access to my computer? Because, whoever they are, they obviously know who I am.

“Hey, did you order any of the pork fried rice?” Carly asks as she walks through the back door, pushing her sunglasses up on her head.

I slam the computer shut, the horror of what I’m afraid has happened taking over my entire body. I flash hot and then cold, and I’m finding it hard to catch my breath.

“Are you okay?” Carly asks, stepping closer.

I swallow the bile down and look at her. Her nose is scrunched up in confusion, those beautiful lips pursed in soft pillows. Locks of hair have tumbled down alongside her neck, and they frame her smooth face perfectly. She’s a beautiful girl. She’s also the daughter of a con artist. She was taught from an early age how to lie, cheat, and manipulate. She’s said it herself, more than once, that she knows how guys like Lagazo think. She understands that world. She was a part of it from infancy.

“Pax?” she repeats, worry creasing her brow.

“How did you find out?” I ask, my voice rough and my chest aching.

“What?”

“About who I am. How did you find out?”

Her eyes dart to the computer, where my hand still rests on the lid. “Who you are? I’m sorry. I don’t understand…”

I stand, the panic I originally felt being replaced with rage. Simmering just beneath the surface of my skin, heating up my entire body. It’s never good when I get this angry, and the way it’s warring with my feelings for Carly is creating a hurricane-sized storm in my chest.

“Did Lagazo put you up to it?” I ask, my voice stronger but cold as a block of ice. “Did he even tell you why, or did he just give you the instructions and you still don’t understand what it’s all about?”

Sensing that something has gone very wrong, Carly’s expression shifts from confused to defensive. “Pax. I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you can be sure that Lagazo hasn’t put me up to anything. Why in the world would you suddenly think I’m doing anything for Lagazo? What the hell just happened?”

“Who am I, Carly?”

“What do you mean? You’re Pax.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing. “Or maybe you’re insane, since that’s how you’re acting right now.”

“Pax who?” I press, stepping closer to her. I see a flash of something, maybe fear, pass through her eyes, but I can’t stop the momentum of this now. I’m too far gone.

“Pax Reed.” She swallows uncomfortably. “You’re Pax Reed.”

Then something happens. It’s so brief, so tiny, like the flash of a reflection off the water. I think that if I didn’t know her as well as I do, I might have missed it, might never have even seen that moment—when her eyes shift away, unable to look at me for a split second before they snap back, cloudy with secrets that are breaking my heart.

“I’m not Pax
Reed
,” I say softly, fists clenched at my sides. “And you know it.”

The silence in the room is stifling, the normally refreshing sea breeze now heavy with regret.

“Just tell me, Carly. How did you find out?”

A single tear rolls from the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t break. She doesn’t reach to brush it away or lose eye contact with me. She doesn’t flinch or tremble, not even a muscle.

“I’ve always known,” she whispers.

“How?”

“Because Vaughn talked about you when we were younger. He’s obviously forgotten, but he mentioned his friend Pax whose dad was the drummer from Lush. Back when I was just a kid and he was in junior high. I remember names. I always have. As soon as I knew you were Pax who was best friends with my cousin Vaughn, I knew who you were. But it was obvious you didn’t want to tell me about it, so I didn’t say anything.”

I turn away from her, disappointment washing through me. I’m scared of what she’s told Lagazo, angry at the betrayal of trust, confused about what to do since she is still Vaughn’s cousin and the woman I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with.

“When did you tell Lagazo?” I ask, my back still turned to her.

“Lagazo? You think I’d tell Lagazo?” Her voice is stronger now, filled with shock.

I whirl around, stepping into her, using my superior size in the cheapest, lowest way—to intimidate her. “Yeah, I do. And all I want to know now is when did he find out?”
      But Carly was raised around men like her father and Lagazo, so she doesn’t frighten easily. Faced with six feet two inches of pissed-off guy, she doesn’t back down. She doesn’t step away or bat an eyelash. No, Carly gets angry right back.

“I have no idea what Lagazo knows or when he found it out. I would never—never—tell him a secret about you. I would never tell him anything about you. How could you possibly think I’d do something like that?” Her face falls, and I see her lips tremble for just a second. “How can you not know me by now?”

I angrily lift the lid on the laptop, pointing to the words that appear on the screen like some sort of accusation—Lush, Lush, Lush.

“How the hell do you explain this?” I growl. “There are only three people who could access this computer—you, Vaughn, and me. Vaughn and I sure as shit didn’t put this on here, so that only leaves one person, Carly. One person who is obviously trying to intimidate me, and while you may be a con artist just like your dad, I don’t think you came up with this on your own.”

There are moments in your life when you do—or say—something that you want to take back before it’s even fully left you. Moments when you know you’ve shaken the foundations of your life. As the words leave my lips and I see Carly’s face, I know I’ve just broken something, and I don’t think it can be fixed.

As if someone took a Karmic vacuum and sucked the very soul out of her, Carly drains. The color from her face, the steel from her spine, the love from her eyes. She drains of everything that makes her Carly, and it happens right before my eyes.

We stand for a beat, watching each other, and then she releases a breath, the final essence of her dissipating into the damp air of my apartment.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice stilted and hollow. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I’ll be out of your place in just a few minutes. And don’t worry about your deal with Lagazo. I’ll get the money back. You’re off the hook.”

She strides toward the bedroom, determination written all over her body.

“Carly,” I call out, reaching for her even though she’s long gone.

Just then, the front door opens and in walks Vaughn.

“Hey, cuz,” he says as she passes him on her way to the bedrooms.