Seven Sunsets (6 page)

Emery

I knew he was looking at my ass and that was fine by me. He’d said he planned to fuck me so good, I’d come away with him. It was the sweetest thing a man had ever said to me, that hadn’t been a lie. I hoped it wasn’t a lie. Scar didn’t give me a chance to freshen up. Sweaty from the ride as well, he was kissing me right through door. His tongue twirled in my mouth as he clutched the back of my hair. His other hand squeezed my ass, but my pussy felt it. Before long, we were against the wall, him tugging down my leather pants. Scar’s warm breath hit my clit first. Then his tongue flicked it, turning me on even more. Then his tongue snaked in and out of me, causing me to unravel. I grabbed at his hair, feeling like I would come already. He came up, looking at me with his hazel eyes like he would devour me.

Scar was a big guy, six foot two inches of pure rippling muscle. He took off his shirt, exposing his scar that ran down his torso but also the tattoos that made him even hotter in my book. I went for his belt, not the delicious v of muscle that led down to what I craved but his leather one, undoing it with a fever. I wanted his cock in my mouth. He was happy to help as I sunk to my knees and swallowed as much of it as I could. Sucking and slurping him in and out of my mouth, I enjoyed him petting my head in appreciation.

Scar twisted my hair in his big hands and helped move me along, my mouth up and down on his dick until he was hitting the back of my throat. He pulled me away completely, trapping me against the wall with his huge body. “I need inside of you.” His voice was husky and serious. It made my stomach knot. He took off my shirt and bra, in between passionate kisses. “Are you ready to be convinced?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

Scar picked me up, his arms under my knees. He pressed me into the wall as he inched his cock into me extremely slow, making my breath hitch with each movement. “I thought I’d lost you today.”

I’d been thinking about that too. I’d tried to die so many times but when Dixie fired her gun, I didn’t want to die. Even though I’d thought he planned to trade me off, I longed to really be his woman.

Scar had me impaled against the wall, whispering in my ear, “Could you love a man like me, scar and all?”

“Could you love a mess like me, with all mine?”

“You first.” He thrust forward hard, hitting some button that turned me into a blubbering idiot.

“Oh, yes.” I’d been answering his question, sure, but the ride had also begun. I held onto his back as he pounded my pussy so hard I would have a cuntcussion in the morning. I wrapped my legs around him, giving him deep access as I floated on a wave of ecstasy. Soon, he was slowing like he was going to erupt, and I was bubbling over myself. He pulled out quickly setting me to my feet, strangely coming on my leg instead.

I went to the bed still naked. Collapsing beside me nude as well, Scar pulled me to him. I snuggled in close, whispering, “You didn’t answer.”

“Answer what?” He sounded out of breath.

I felt just as wore out, trying to catch mine. “About if you could love me with all my scars.”

His hands were running down my arms, then down my belly. “None of these make me love you any less.”

My eyes watered. Did he say he loved me? Just hours ago, I thought he planned to trade me away for his one true love.

Scar wiped at my tears. “What’s wrong? Not convinced yet?”

“Not convinced yet,” I said jokingly with a laugh, grabbing his half flaccid cock. “Too bad you aren’t ready to go again.”

I ran my hand over his scar.

He stopped me. “Don’t.”

I didn’t listen. I touched it again. “You were stronger than that evil man. And you’ll get your sister back.”

Scar kissed my forehead. “After a nap, I’ll convince you to come with us.”

“Did you say you love me?”

“I must. I don’t even know who you are, but I branded you, didn’t I?”

Smiling, I snuggled in closer, barely believing how much my life could change so quickly.

“So, who are you Emery, and why did you want to die?”

I had to think about that. I wasn’t really sure who I was anymore. In Scar’s safe arms, his loving arms, I thought about my horrible past.

They shot my daddy dead on my front porch when I was fourteen. I didn’t see who. Daddy had stepped outside. I’d pulled back the drapes, looking out the front window when I heard the shots to see him crash against the front door. Lifeless, he slid down our white door with the tiny three rectangle windows, leaving a smear of blood on his way down. A black Cadillac car sped away. Manul was my stepdaddy the next week. He was exotic, brown and handsome with a smile to blind you, but he had an all-American accent. My mother was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed former beauty queen, hairdresser who’d just recently lost her gambler of a husband in a rain of gunfire. Go figure. Manul sent my brother clutching a wad of cash to live with the only other family we had, my mother’s brother in Reno, my crazy Uncle, but me, he wanted me to stay with him and my mother. I found out soon I was part of his collection.

From the beginning at Manul’s estate, I felt like just another blonde in the house, allowed to drink and party with everyone else since my mother was too busy for me anymore. I’d felt like Manul was collecting blonde women because it was never just my mother and me in the house. It was like he had a harem of fair women at his disposal. But my mother had told me more than once that she was Manul’s wife on paper, saying that kept us safe, and that was all that mattered. I’d remembered being scared my whole life but not much else, so the thought comforted me too.

Needless to say, I grew up quick, getting to do whatever I pleased. Manul never bothered me, but I could always tell he wanted to. The fact didn’t bother me enough. It was the way he looked at me. He’d buy me expensive revealing clothes then he’d be undressing me with his eyes. At least because he wanted to, he didn’t let any of his thugs.

My family had never been well off and now we were rich. It went to my mother’s head, then her nose, then her veins and finally her heart. My mother threw herself off a cliff at Manul’s home in Greece after I turned sixteen. All my hopes of living a normal life went over those cliffs with her. The next year was hell. Manul who usually traveled a lot, wouldn’t leave his Florida home, my home, and wouldn’t let up trying to woe me even the short weeks after my mother’s death. It was creepy as hell, and being a broken mess, there was no way for me to escape him. Gone were the hordes of women and all night parties. His men would roam the house as usual, but Manul would try his best to lure me into his bed, first for comfort then for other things. But he never forced me. Finally, when I was seventeen, I gave in and became his dirty whore.

I couldn’t blame losing both my parents, my lack of an upbringing or Manul’s intimidation— it was because I was weak. I was tired of fighting him and maybe too scared to really fight. Not only weak, I was angry with my dad and mom, they’d left me with emptiness. The new experience of sex filled the void. The worst part was I enjoyed fucking Manul. He made me feel special. I’d not been special to anyone ever before. After another year of secretly fucking my stepfather, I thought I had him wrapped around my finger. For once in my life, I was no longer living in fear. But all that changed when I really fell in love.

Derayn, one of my stepfather’s guards would take me out to fire guns, out for pizza, watch movies with me when Manul finally got back to his usual routine and was traveling. I wasn’t allowed to go stay with my friends and few came to see me. Derayn asked me more than once why I didn’t just kill Manul in his sleep. Being a thug, the solution was simple to him. Eventually, we were sleeping together whenever Manul was away. He told me if I found a way to walk out the front door, him and his men wouldn’t stop me and he’d come find me. We’d run away together, be anonymous. Travel the world ourselves. One day after my high school graduation, I got up the nerve to tell Manul I was going out of state to college with my friend Vickie. He said he’d kill me if I left. I shot his bodyguard dead the next day, told him I’d kill him too if he didn’t let me leave. I walked out the door confident Derayn would let me leave. Him and his men rushed to Manul but didn’t bother me. I got into Vickie’s car with an AK 47 in my hands.

After my first week waiting at Ohio State University, Derayn’s obituary arrived in my mailbox, saying he died in a house fire. I knew good and well that he lived on Manul’s estate. Inside was a simple note from Manul.

Dearest Emery, You can’t run.

I was numb but scared soon took over. Was I next on Manul’s hit list? Vickie convinced me to really enroll in college, so I threw myself into schoolwork, all while waiting to die. However, two years past without another word from Manul. That’s when the unthinkable happened; Vickie wrecked her car and died in the crash. Her parents came up and their insurance adjuster wanted to talk to me while they waited for the toxically results, asking me if she was a drinker and such. I met Don Jenkins, and he asked me out. I put him off because I was grieving, but he hung around OSU and didn’t give up. When I finally said yes and agreed to go to dinner with him, I fell fast. Being my first real relationship, it was like I was in a damn fairytale. I was the girl with the fucked up life and Don was my fucking Prince: handsome, rich, charming—the works. Without Vickie around, I spent the whole summer with Don, and he moved into our apartment. Our relationship was perfect. Soon, he insisted I not finish school but marry him, have and raise his kids. At the time, only two and half years in, not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, it was all so romantic. Suddenly, my life was wonderful and full of hope again.

I was a little worried when Don wanted to move to Florida, but what could I say, I didn’t want to tell him about what had happened in my past. Don had so much money but no family. He’d said his parents had died a few years ago, leaving him an inheritance. I never wanted for anything and was able to explore everything I ever wanted to do in life, from learning photography to dance.

We’d only been married a year when I lost our baby. I’d been far enough in that it was shattering. Having to give birth to a dead child killed me, and I had no comfort from my husband who’d suddenly went cold. Don blamed me, said I hadn’t been taking care of myself. For a while, he wouldn’t even touch me. When he did touch me, it was to push me away.

Despite all his cruel words and actions, I loved him with all my being and only hated myself. Eventually, I fell into a deep depression. Don could care less, but gladly paid for therapy. That’s when I made my first slice, but I could never go through with killing myself. My therapist, a sweet woman named Henriette, told me to find serenity outside of my life. I started painting, mostly sunsets. Going far away in the colors of the sky helped me get better some, but still, I pinned all my hopes on Don riding in to rescue me again and eventually, he did. Gradually, he became more and more like the old Don again even if we barely even had sex anymore. Soon, all of our problems seemed so far in the past. When he went missing, I was beside myself.

“How could you?” I’d found him at what my private investigator said was his cabin. I had the file of pictures of him and his whore under my arm. “I thought you were dead!” I was crying so hard, I was hiccupping and snotting.

Don laughed a crazy laugh. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Couldn’t take what?” My tears were falling so hard, I could barely listen. The thought that Don had only been happy lately because he had someone else rang through me.

“You just weren’t satisfying me,” Don told me, looking away.

I tried to leave, stomping to the front door of his cozy hideaway, but he dragged me back into the cabin, saying he was sorry and he wanted to come home. I walked to the kitchen to hear him out even though he was scaring me. There was a briefcase on the counter. I opened it, and Don told me point blank there was fifty grand in cash, his payment for two years of marriage to me. It only took him uttering one word for me to understand, “Manul.”

Another woman was bad enough but finding out he’d been working for Manul this whole time, married me to keep me under Manul’s thumb was earth shattering. I don’t think I took a breath as he told me. He was keeping me warm for Manul, in case the man wanted me again. It was time. An Amun was coming in a week to collect me.

Don’s voice was full of hopeful desperation as he said, “But, I have the money right here. We could run away you and me. Emery, I do love you.”

His words, I heard them but they weren’t registering. “And the woman you’re fucking?”

“Jackie is in with another family, a family that might be able to protect us from Manul’s.”

“Are sleeping with her?”

He didn’t say and my heart broke all over again. My mind was still on the fact our whole relationship had been a lie until it went darker. “What else did you do for Manul? Did you kill Vickie too?”

He didn’t say no, but his face said a terrified yes.

I slumped against the counter feeling sick, letting a devastating thought surface. “Did you make me lose the baby?”

He didn’t say anything but looked even more horrified.

My heart exploded in my chest. “Our baby? How could you?” I cupped my hand over my mouth, trying not to pass out.

“How could I? Do you think I had a choice?” He boomed then shook his head, his own tears falling. “At the time, Manul said either I got rid of the baby or he got rid of you.”