Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (30 page)

My
hands wind into his magenta tie,
my
magenta tie. Jerking it apart, I
pull the knot loose from his neck, tearing it from his collar. I wrench his
shirt open, and buttons fly to the floor.

Colin’s
eyes widen. I’ve not been this insistent in our time together, this zealous.
“Charlie,” he says to calm me, but it doesn’t work. In fact, my name on his
lips inflames me further.

Reaching
for his belt I rip it open, yanking his zipper down. With my hands beneath his
pants and boxer briefs, I fall to the floor freeing his erection at the same
time. My knees spread wide on either side of his feet as he steps from his
clothes.

He’s
gloriously naked, hard and thick, extending from a perfect body. Groaning with
need, I grab him, squeezing—there is nothing delicate about my treatment. Hands
fisted at his sides, he pushes his hips forward, and our eyes meet when I look
up through my lashes.

“Don’t
hold back.” My whispered breath wafts against his erection as each word is
spoken. “I want to taste you, all of you.” Drawing my tongue from base to tip,
I tease, flicking along his corded length and around the strained crown. Taking
my time, I lavish every inch, teasing and taunting, tasting until his panted
breath coats the room. I glance up to gauge his reaction. Storm clouds are
brewing in his eyes, drawing me into the raging depths of blue.

“Put
your mouth on me.”

I
lick the tip, swirling my tongue and lapping at the underside of his head.
“Mmm,” I murmur the vibration as I kiss around to draw out his torture.

“Now,
Charlie,” he says, his tone deepening along with the tornado in his eyes, “in .
. . your . . . mouth.”

“I
need all of you,” I say, taking him in deep, as far as I can manage, before
pulling back to roll my tongue around the tip. His hands wind in my hair and
his head falls back as we move together, finding a steady pace. My mouth and
fingers act in tandem to draw out his pleasure. I lean back, using my hand to
pull on him and a bead of moisture appears. I drink him in.

“Christ,
you own me baby,” he grounds out, and jerks his hips.

“Do
you like this?” I push him into my mouth until he touches the back of my throat
and swallow. A groan so deep it echoes against the walls is my answer. It’s
good, he feels good, and I want more. I want more of him, more of the heady
feelings that come along with pushing him to a place where he can let go, where
freedom and passion combine. We can visit this place together, the place where
physical intimacy can become love and I can love him, with my mouth and my
body—a place where nothing and no one will drive us apart.

I
move over him, lips holding tight, again and again, his hips meeting the
fevered beat. His rough, broken breath matches the welcoming cry wrung from me
each time I take him in.

I
can’t get enough; there’s never enough, I want more, more Colin. Our rhythm
hits a furious pace. I can tell he’s close by the tug to my hair, and his quick
thrusts, fast, faster. I’m filled with him, filled with love and fear that it
could all be lost, and I’ll have loved for nothing. Nothing more than the
memories I’ll walk away with.

“Charlie,
I’m going to come,” he groans loudly.

Oh,
how I want him to. I want to taste him; I want him inside of me, a permanent
reminder of our time together. Quickening the pace, I draw him in my mouth,
letting my teeth graze against him. His hands grasp my head, a long moan
escaping as he stills, pulsing a heady medley of heat, hot and salty down my
throat.

“Baby,”
he moans again, reaching down and pulling me up to him.

I’m
desperate; I can’t get enough. Climbing up his body, I wrap my legs around his
waist, grabbing his face to kiss him. He staggers back from my urgency,
fumbling toward the bedroom and falling down on top of me. I won’t let him
break away, my need too consuming. Clenching him closely, there’s a manic level
of despondency in my grip. I can feel it and I know he can too. Matching my
need Colin pulls my hair, opening my neck to his mouth, nipping and sucking
with his own fevered desire.

“Ahhh,”
I groan with pure pleasure. Ruthless in his quest he moves to my breast,
lifting it from the confines of the bustier, sucking so I feel a deep, piercing
ache in my groin. He layers sweet, exquisite torture on my nipples, licking,
biting, lavishing them with relentless attention until I’m writhing against his
leg.

“Touch
me.” I demand and cry out when his fingers find me, pressing three of them,
flat, rounding on my clitoris. His teeth and tongue continue teasing my breasts
as I loosen my legs to let him have me.  

I
roll my head to the side, fists clenching into the comforter. “Oh, God.” I’m
panting, rotating my hips with the circular press of his fingers moving on me
and then slipping into me. 

“So
ready,” he murmurs against my skin.  

“I
want you,” I beg, “please.”

Leaning
up, he grabs my panties, ripping against the delicate ribbons connecting the
triangles together, leaving me open and bare. He kneels between my legs,
holding my gaze and pushing my thighs apart as he hovers, his erection
positioned to take me. His earlier release did nothing to tame the turbulence
in his eyes, dark and passionate.

“Feel
me, Charlie,” he commands it just as he sinks in, slow, deep, stretching, and
filling.

“Ahh,”
I moan at the pure sexual carnality of him inside me. My lids flutter closed to
enjoy the throbbing pleasure of his body within mine but he won’t let me look
away.

“Look
at me. Watch me take you.”

I
do as I’m told, watching as he moves. Hands digging into my hips, he pulls me
onto his erection, driving in with controlled strokes, over and over, again and
again. So slow. So full. So good.

“Do
you feel how perfect we are, Charlie? How perfect I fit inside you?” He glides
in deeply to make his point and finds enough restraint to pull out in a gradual
recession, only to sink in deeper, pressing against me as he swivels his God
damn perfect hips. And I whimper. “Please.” Please take me away, ease my fears,
make me forget them, and the real possibility I could lose you. I want to
scream it at him, but instead I whimper again.

Colin’s
eyes never leave mine. “Tell me, baby. I want to hear you say how perfect this
is, how perfect we are.”

I
moan and let my body speak for me, responding to his command after each thrust
pushes me higher. Matching his rhythm, my hips join his, meeting in our own
heaven. He moves, thrusting deeply as if by sheer force we can become one, and
he does the impossible. I forget everything but this moment. When we’re
together, the world ceases; time stands still and there is only us.  

“Colin.”
My voice rises as my body tenses.

“Now,
baby.” He swivels against me and watches my face as I arch up and explode. I
scream out, unable to hold it in as he pulls back and drives in, pushing into
me again and again to see me through my release and to find his own. My body
responds, pulsing and clenching as he thrusts, his fingers gripping my hips,
eyes closing to relish in our connection. His breath is harsh, jagged. With one
last drive, he throws his head back and comes, a loud groan escaping his lips
as he pulses into me before falling onto my chest.

I
grab him, holding on tight, my fingers splayed into his hair and I tell him
what he needs to hear. I share with him my heart. “Yes, Colin. We’re perfect.”

~

We
lay entwined for a long time. Tears threaten to spill and I struggle to hold
them in. Colin’s breathing eventually decelerates but he stays nestled into my
neck, the weight of his body pressing into me. I keep my legs wrapped around
his waist, holding him close. His lips glance over my cheek and neck
periodically while I run my fingers though his hair, brushing through his
waves.

Eventually
reality intrudes and he lifts his head to look at me. Thankfully my eyes are
clear from the pain so abundant moments ago. His remain wary.

“Are
you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“No”
is the only thing I can think of to say.

His
brow furrows and he pulls away. I wince as he leaves, longing for the
connection our bodies bring. Moving over to his bag he pulls out a fresh pair
of boxer briefs, like those will protect him from me. The air chills my skin at
his sudden absence, given I only have my bustier and thigh-highs on, the clips
holding them in place. When he stands, he catches sight of my sprawled,
half-naked body on the bed and his nostrils flare from a sharp inhale of
breath. His reaction brings a half-hearted smile to my lips.

“Charlie,
you need to tell me. I can’t help you if you keep everything bottled up inside
of you.”

He
moves to the edge of the bed, pulling the covers out from under me and then
back up to hide my body from his view.

“You
can’t help me. No one can.”

I
don’t know how to have this conversation so we sit for a moment, Colin waiting
for me to begin.

Finally
I say the truth: “I’m afraid.” I pause, gathering my thoughts as his eyes grow
wide. “I’m so afraid of the feelings I have for you and that one day I'll have
to leave you.”

Lines
appear between his eyes. “Why would you leave, Charlie? Have I ever given you
the impression I want you to go?”

Sitting
up so we can talk on an even level I pull the sheet with me to conceal my
breasts from his view. “No, Colin, you haven’t. But you don’t know me, You
don’t know everything about me. If you did, you wouldn’t want me.” My voice
breaks as tears threaten to spill, but I rush on. “I never had any intention of
having a relationship with you; if I truly thought this would happen I would
never have agreed to the campaign tour. I want you to believe that; please
promise me you’ll always believe I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Charlie,
I do. What’s going on? I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” His own
panic is etched in his face. “What is it you think could hurt me?”

“I
can’t tell you.” Now the tears come. Big dollops held at bay for fifteen years
fall from my eyes, down my cheeks, cascading onto the sheet, my chest heaving
once as a cry of pain pierces the air.

He
climbs onto the bed, grabbing me into his arms and rocking me like a child.
That causes me to break down; huge racking sobs open the gates of pain I have
not allowed myself to feel for years. Rubbing my back and squeezing me tighter,
he murmurs against my hair.

I
have to tell him: it’s better to end this now rather than go on this way,
falling deeper and deeper in love. It’s better for him, too; leaving now will
save his reputation. Gathering all of my strength I pull back with wild eyes;
I’m going to break in two, my heart ripping apart when I find his anxious
expression. Of all the awful things I have endured in my life, this is by far
the worst. I love him and he will certainly leave me. A fresh batch of tears fall,
but I don’t let him pull me back into his arms when he offers them.

Pushing
myself away as if the separation will lessen the sting when it comes, I steal
myself for the pain. Preparing for it, as I used to do when I was fourteen and
I didn’t want to feel the cruel prods and smell the stink emanating from the
bastard who raped me over and over again. A sob escapes. I haven’t thought
about it in so long.
Oh God, please help me get through this.

Looking
directly into his eyes, as flat as I can make my voice, I say, “When I was
fourteen years old I lived with foster parents who brought kids into their home
like it was a job. They were interested in the money, not the children who
needed love and comfort. That’s where I met Ali; she came to the Kerr’s after I
did.”

Pausing
for a deep breath I get lost in my story, fifteen years disappearing in an
instant—it all becomes so real. “There was also a fifteen-year-old boy living
there. His name was Shane Roberts. He was a nasty, surly boy; he didn’t pay
attention to the Kerrs and they didn’t care to rein him in. He brought in good
money.”

I
can’t tell if he knows where I’m going with this, his face impassive. “One
night, Shane came into my room when I was sleeping, he put a pillow on my face
and raped me.” My voice shakes when I say it out loud, the robotic tone
breaking for one minute. I look away from Colin; I can’t bear to see his face.
“He started coming into my room every night. I would fight him,” my voice
cracks again at the horror of it, “I would kick him and hit him but he was so
strong.” I soften to barely a whisper, remembering his sickeningly sweet stench
as he pushed his body into mine, hurting me badly.

“I
stopped sleeping at night, falling asleep in school. I ran away and they
brought me back.

“Then
Ali came and she knew immediately what he was doing to me. She helped protect
me; she’d stay with me so I could sleep. The Carters were in the process of
adopting her already, and she begged them to take me too. She said she wouldn’t
go with them if they didn’t take me as well.” A small smile crosses my lips at
the memory of Ali, so convincing in her plea to the Carters when they had no
idea what troubles lay ahead.

Staring
at my hands, I continue, “The Carters agreed and brought me home with them.” I
pause because this is the really bad part; this part of the story has an ending
that will certainly drive Colin away from me. “I was pregnant,” I say on a cry,
“pregnant with that bastard’s baby.” My stomach heaves at the thought, a
shudder racking my body. I groan, wrapping my arms around myself, swaying as if
it will make it all go away.

I
sneak a glance at him. His face is ashen and his lips curl into a snarl of
hatred. Oh please, no, I can’t endure that.
Please, please don’t hate me,
Colin.