Tanner
Bailey is crying.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I try to tamp down my anger at whoever touched my girl. She had been borderline hysterical in the club and had insisted that I take her home. All plans of a romantic night at a NOLA hotel have vanished, and now we’re retracing our steps back to Hahnville.
I glance over at Bailey, who’s curled up in the passenger seat. “You okay?” I ask for probably the hundredth time.
“I’m fine,” she responds faintly. We both know that’s a lie, but I don’t call her on it. “I’m sorry I ruined our night.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I tell her firmly. “That guy should never have fucking touched you. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”
She doesn’t reply. She simply turns her head to the window, her eyes straying to the glass and the darkness beyond.
Mirroring her, I fix my gaze on the road ahead. There aren’t many cars out on the highway this late, so we’re making good time. My mind drifts to earlier, when we first left Hahnville. Everything had felt so wrong on the drive out, like something terrible would happen if we didn’t stay.
And then something bad had happened, even though I don’t fully understand what Bailey experienced in the club.
I can’t shake the nagging feeling that whatever’s haunting us is angry that we tried to get away. Maybe it will be safer to stay in Hahnville, to ride this thing out until the house is done, and Bailey’s stint as Robert’s night nurse wraps up. Anxiety blossoms in the pit of my stomach as I wonder if there even is a way out for us. Surely, this thing can’t hunt us forever?
Neither of us speaks again until we pull into the driveway.
“I’m sorry,” Bailey murmurs again, her soft voice slicing through the oppressive silence that has settled between us. Her soulful eyes are red from crying, and the sight sends a pang of protectiveness rushing through me. I take her small hand in one of mine.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I insist, lifting her palm to my lips and kissing it gently.
She shakes her head, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. “I just…I feel like we’re being toyed with, like it’s trying to drive us crazy,” she whispers.
I weave my fingers between hers and squeeze gently. “Whatever is going on, we won’t let it come between us,” I reassure her, injecting as much confidence as I can muster into my tone. “We’re stronger than this. If there are any ghosts in that old swamp, they aren’t tearing us apart.”
Bailey closes her eyes and draws in a shaky breath. “You really mean that?” she asks.
“I sure do.” I sound so certain, but underneath, a thread of doubt weaves its way between my bones.
When she opens her eyes again, she’s gazing at me with such intensity that my heart stutters in my chest, though that doesn’t seem to stop the blood from pumping downward.
“Show me.” Her words are somewhere between a plea and a command. “Show me that you mean it.”
And so I do.
There is nothing gentle in the way I capture her mouth with mine. She moans against me, and I take the opportunity to taste her, darting my tongue between her swollen lips. I pour every ounce of feeling into the kiss, willing her to feel just how much I fucking love her.
Bailey responds in kind. Her hands catch the collar of my shirt, and she draws me closer, deeper. Desire blossoms off her, infecting me with its heady promises as her fingers trail downward toward the visible bulge in my jeans.
“Fuck,” I groan as she palms my cock through the thick material, sending sparks of pleasure ricocheting through my veins.
Bailey pulls back a little, her gaze fixed hungrily on the fly of my jeans as she eases the zipper down. The thin glow of the streetlight filters into the darkened cab through the windshield, and when it catches her face, she looks otherworldly, like an angel fallen to earth. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
Her hand closes around my cock, and I nearly come right then and there.
Nimble fingers ease over my shaft as Bailey finds a slow, agonizing rhythm. My head falls back against the headrest. I’m lost to the electric heat of it.
Just when I think it can’t get any better, Bailey shifts, and then her tongue swipes the head of my cock, teasing me.
“Don’t start something unless you’re prepared to finish it,” I growl in warning.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She smirks.
Before I can respond, her mouth closes around my cock.
I don’t make any effort to stifle my groans. My hands thread through her hair, guiding her into a quickening rhythm as I thrust my hips up to meet her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I worry that I’m being too rough with her, but that thought evaporates as I feel myself nearing my limit.
I stop her then, shuddering from the effort.
“You’re mine,” I growl down at her. “You’re mine to protect, mine to love.”
“I’m yours,” she confirms breathlessly.
God, she’s so fucking gorgeous like this, with her mussed hair and swollen lips.
“Let’s get inside,” I say, and she nods eagerly. There are so many things I’m going to do to her tonight, but I’d rather not fuck my girl senseless in front of any nosy neighbors.
I intended to take her straight to the bedroom, but we don’t make it that far. Instead, as soon as the door closes, I pin her to it, her body molding to mine as I steal another kiss from her.
My cock, tucked back in my jeans, twitches between us. Bailey, eager for more friction, wraps her legs around me and lets out a moan as I rock my hips into hers. Caging her in with one arm, I trail the other hand down until I reach the thin fabric of her panties.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” I murmur in her ear as I ghost my fingers over her dripping pussy. “You’re going to feel so good around my cock.”
Bailey moans again. The needy sound has me catching the thin straps of her dress with my index fingers. I yank the top down, exposing her full breasts to the sultry night air. Her nipples are peaked with desire, and I can’t help but lean down to capture one between my teeth.
We stay like that for a moment, Bailey writhing against me as I tease her. Finally, she pushes me back, hard enough to make me stumble. I’m confused for a split second until she plants her hands on my chest and forces me toward the bedroom, and I understand what she wants.
She pushes me back onto the bed, and I let it happen. I’m intrigued. Sure, Bailey’s initiated sex before, but never like this. The way she stares down at me, like a predator surveying its prey, is new and sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
My eyes are hooded with desire as I watch her once again free my cock from the confines of my jeans. I expect her to take me in her mouth again, but instead, she crawls up me until I can feel the wetness of her panties against my shaft.
Bailey rocks against me, and I groan as the friction once again starts to build. At the same time, her fingers work feverishly to undo the buttons of my shirt. After a few fruitless seconds, she simply grabs the fabric and tugs sharply, sending buttons flying.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I quickly change my mind, however, when she pulls her panties to the side and positions herself over my straining cock.
“Fuck,” I groan as she sinks down onto my shaft. Her wet heat sets my blood on fire, and I buck my hips up hard, unable to stop myself.
A lurid moan slips from her lips. “Tanner,” she breathes, her blazing eyes meeting mine. Her hands find purchase on my chest as she lifts her hips until I’m almost fully unsheathed. In the next breath, she slides back down, impaling herself on my cock.
The feel of her pussy around me sends me into a frenzy. I thrust up into her, meeting her rhythm as she writhes above me.
Moonlight halos her as she loses herself in her pleasure. Her messy hair cascades down her back, and her cinnamon skin seems to glow in the darkness. My eyes hungrily skim the peaks of her breasts as they bounce with each thrust, the arch of her back, the graceful curve of her neck.
She’s fucking perfect.
It doesn’t take long for the pressure to coil inside of me. I feel myself getting closer, but I want Bailey to come first. I can tell by the feel of her that she’s nearly there, ready to unravel.
With one last thrust, she topples over the edge, clawing at my chest as she shatters above me.
Her pussy spasms around my cock, pushing me to my own blinding release. I empty myself inside her with one last buck of my hips as she chants my name over and over again like a prayer.
Utterly spent, Bailey collapses down onto my chest. I pepper her brow with soft kisses, savoring the weight of her.
“I love you,” I whisper to her in the moonlit dark. “I really fucking love you.”
It’s only when she doesn’t answer that I realize she’s fallen asleep.
I stay with her for a while just listening to the steady sound of her breathing. It’s grounding. It tells me she’s here, and she’s okay. Whatever is happening, we’ll be okay.
Finally, my bladder convinces me that I need to get up. I shift Bailey as gently as I can and tuck the blankets in around her. She barely stirs. That’s a good thing. She’s been so tired lately after working those damn night shifts. She’ll feel better tomorrow after a solid night of sleep.
I make my way to the bathroom and close the door before turning on the light. Squinting against the sudden brightness, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I mutter as my eyes adjust. My chest is crisscrossed with a series of deep red scratches. I vaguely recall the scrape of Bailey’s nails against my chest as she came, but I didn’t realize she had been quite so vicious.
This isn’t like the sweet and kind Bailey I know at all. But the red marks on my chest are hard to argue with.
What if she does worse next time?
I blink.
Why would I think something like that?
My eyes hover over the scratches in the mirror and then wander up to my face.
Ice thrills down my spine as I realize that the visage I’m looking at is not my own.
For a moment, I have the absurd thought that it’s Dalton, Layla’s boyfriend. But the face is wrong somehow, like it has been poorly rendered in wax from somebody’s memory. Whatever it is, it’s grinning madly, and it’s certainly not a man.
A peal of thunder rolls in the distance, causing me to jump. The subsequent flash of lightning has my eyes darting to the window before returning to the mirror.
The thing that isn’t Dalton is gone.
My own face stares back at me, horror alight in my eyes.
And when the next roll of thunder rattles Hahnville, I swear it sounds like laughter on the wind.