“Says the person wearing nothing but a t-shirt,” I counter and I lean on the island and watch her body.
“I’m not being stingy with the goods,” she retorts as she loads a plate with fruit and cream.
I swipe a strawberry through some cream and take a bite. The juice from the strawberry bursts into my mouth, giving me sweet with a small hint of tart. It’s delicious. I lick the juice and cream off my fingers when I’m done. I notice Celeste frowning at me as she snatches the plate away from me.
“Is that really how you eat fruit?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s a really good strawberry.”
She continues to glare at me as she settles at the table and bites into her own strawberry. Her face is a mask of bliss, and she obviously has the same experience as I just did.
“Okay, this is a good strawberry, but you were over there all extramoany. That’s not fair.”
“Why can’t you just let me be a gentleman?”
“Because I am not done with the dirty bastard you were yesterday.”
Her words make my dick ache. I’ve been fighting my erection since she fell asleep on my shoulder. She looked so innocent and angelic until her head fell into my lap. Since that moment, I’ve only been able to think about her soft lips encircling my erection. I shift myself for comfort. Celeste is almost finished with her fruit by the time I focus on her again. Her eyes suggest she has an idea of what I was thinking about. She’s killing my effort to be the good guy.
I need something to take our minds off sex. I grab her hand after she disposes of the plate. I lead her back upstairs and give her my phone.
“Check your messages.”
She sighs, settles in the middle of the bed, and crosses her legs. Celeste puts the phone on speaker and dials while I settle next to her. The automated voice tells her she has fifteen new messages.
The first message is Wes; he sounds like a crazed maniac.
“Bitch! Did you just hang up on me? You better hope the call dropped for your sake.”
The next message was Wes again.
“You filthy whore! You better answer the phone or else! You know how I am when I’m angry. I still own you. I will rip up these papers and find ways to fuck with your life if you don’t answer my calls.”
The third was Wes again.
“I swear to God if you don’t answer this phone, I will slap the hell out of you the next time I see you. It will feel good too since I haven’t hit that ugly face of yours since you ran off. I’m still mad about that. How dare you leave your husband! This is why I didn’t take you on the trip, you lazy hag. She was a better fuck than you anyway.”
I’m livid by the time we get to the fourth message.
“I know you’re sending me to voicemail, bitch. I hope you like the sound of my voice because mine will be the last one you’ll ever hear. It’s a promise.”
We listened to and saved all twelve of his abusive messages in a row. Message thirteen was from her mother, and message fourteen was from her dad. They were looking for her when she didn’t return.
Message fifteen, Wes’ last message, left a cold knot in my stomach. He is truly a sick bastard. It wasn’t as manic as the others; the timestamp suggests it’s after the time he would have pushed her into the water.
“I told you, bitch. I always get my way.”
Celeste is trying to display a tough demeanor, but I can tell she’s just as shook as I am by the last message. I suspect she’s used to the brat who’s screaming for attention in the other messages. The cold murderer in the last one is different. Menacing. I take the phone away from her and return it to the nightstand.
She’s staring into space. I reach for her; it saddens me when she flinches before snuggling against me. Her life has been a living hell, and I understand her lack of desire to announce to the world that she’s alive. The longer she’s alive the more Wes wants to change that. He’s a selfish bastard and a bully. When the shock wears off, I will give her a plan of action—a way to get away from him and stay alive.
I know I’m not the cause of her distress, but I can’t help but feel like the biggest asshole in the world. I wanted to get her mind off sex. I didn’t want to kill her spirit in the process. I must go back on my word, partially. I’ll give her something to take her mind off the shit waiting for her when the storm is over—a brief reprieve.
I cup her face and wipe the tears away with my thumbs. I give her a tender peck on the lips to check her mood. I kiss her again, allowing my lips to linger just shy of hers. Celeste presses her lips against mine, silently begging me to deepen the kiss. She moans when I slide my tongue across her lips. I love how she responds to me. We break the kiss long enough for me to get the shirt over her head. Our lips crash together, and I use my body weight to push her down onto her back. I rub my body against hers.
“I love the way your chest hairs tease my nipples,” she confesses in the dark.
My heart rages like the storm outside. How does she make me feel so much? I abandon my feelings and focus on the task at hand—making her feel better. I move down her body, kissing her neck, collarbone, and the valley between her breasts. I cup them in my hands and tease her nipples.
