Secrets and Lies 6: The Ferro Family (Secrets and Lies #6) Page 2

  Nate speaks firmly, cutting into my dirty monologue, “I’m not letting you up until you tell me something.”

  I growl at him, as I try to clutch the floor, “Fuck me.”

  My hips slam down again and this time, I feel him—a finger slips inside—but it’s not enough. I’m suddenly bucking so hard, backing into his hand, trying to fuck it. I’m not aware of anything else, and I feel my mind fighting my body for control and losing.

  As I wildly pump against his finger, he asks, “What about here? Do you want me to fuck you here?”

  While keeping his finger inside me, his thumb drifts south. It’s what I was thinking and too shy to ask for. No woman in her right mind likes that, but I do. Right now I want him to fuck me every way he can.

  My mind is screaming at me to shut up, my mouth is open and I’m begging him for things I thought I’d never say. The words will make my entire body turn red with a bright blush if I ever hear them again, but it doesn’t stop me. I beg him and purr for him to do what I want.

  Nate’s voice is liquid sex, “That’s the sluttiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  His touch lit an intensity within me that I didn’t know was there. Maybe it’s because I just orgasmed or maybe it’s because the last guy I was with didn’t know his way around down there, but either way—I’m elated and terrified at the same time. Even so, I can’t seem to shut up. I keep blurting out insanely sexy, carnal things—and demanding that he do them to me. Now.

  Nate keeps his hand on me as he repositions himself behind me. I’m lying facedown on the kitchen floor.

  Nate slaps my ass and demands, “Up.” As I push up he hooks his arm under my hips and pulls me back to him. I slide across the floor and when I slam against him I feel how hard he is again.

  He moves his hand away from me and grabs another condom. I’m wondering if I should be concerned that he has more than one on him. Before I can think about it he puts it on and slips inside of me. My head is down, with my butt in the air. He slowly pushes in and then pulls out, watching as he does it. It’s completely erotic and makes me think about sucking him off. I want to taste him in my mouth without protection. I want to feel his velvety skin instead of the plastic condom and taste his come as it drips down my throat. I want that with him—which makes me feel conflicted. If he’s just a fuck there’s no way I should do that. If he’s more, we could. Do I want more?

  I don’t get a chance to ponder the question. He slams into me, and reaches around front, between my legs, and starts to do that motion again. I buck back into him and feel my heart pounding so hard that it might explode. I dart upright, so I’m kneeling and he’s still inside of me. Weird position, but it feels good, putting pressure in all the right places.

  Nate catches me with his other arm and holds me tight, restraining me. He whispers in my ear, “Don’t move, Kerry. Stay like this for a moment.” He’s still and I feel his hot breath wash across my neck, and hear his quick gasps of air. “Do you like this? Being touched all over, being owned?”

  I’m trembling as I try to stay still. I nod.

  “Say it.” He commands.

  “No, I don’t like it. I fucking love it.” He moves his hand between my legs and pulls it away. The intensity of the carnal feelings flooding through me lessens, but they’re still there, loudly demanding the same thing as before. The only difference now? My rational half can drown them out if I want.

  He wraps his other arm around me, crushing me against his chest, gripping my breasts and holding me tight while his dick is barely inside of me, pressing in all the right places, making me totally nuts. I begin to arch my back to feel him deeper.

  “Don’t move,” he says, scolding me. “Feel everything. Let it flood you. There’s a damper on your sexuality. It’s like it’s muted or something. I’m guessing someone at some point told you something you wanted wasn’t sexy and it made you shy away from it. I want all of you here with me. If you want a freaky fuck, I want to give it to you. Tell me what you want Kerry.”

  “I—” I’m trembling.

  He’s right. Matt did that. Losing it with him wasn’t a thing. He wasn’t the kind of guy that liked to think of himself as an animal with carnal needs. That pressure is gone, but the threat of disappointment still lingers. I know what I want, but I’m afraid to tell him.

  A question pops up and I blurt it out. “How come that happens? I mean, touching me like that. It made me feel everything.”

  He breathes against my neck, his voice husky, “It’s your sexual center. Touching it like that makes you light up like a sexy Christmas tree and every desire you have is suddenly clear. It makes your mind take a back seat.”

  “No one has ever touched me like that before.”

  “I think it’s cheating, but you seem to be holding back. I won’t do it again. I just wanted you to recognize what you wanted. I’ll give it to you. Just say it, Kerry. Ask me for it.” His top arm slides up so that is across the lower part of my throat, tipping my neck back. “Do you like this? It’s a little too intense for some women.”

  I don’t like him mentioning other women. I bristle. “It’s a little lax for me. I want more. I want it rougher and mindless.”

  His lips are by my ear. He tightens his grip on my neck slightly, making my heart pound harder. “Tell me what’s off limits with you. I’ll give you everything you want, but I need to know if there’s something you don’t want to do.”

  I turn my face to glance over my shoulder. I want to see his eyes. When his blue gaze locks with mine, I confess, “I want this. I like it intense. I like it when you touch me like that, and make me mindless. And to be clear, I’m okay with anything, anywhere. And I’d really like you to lose the condom.”

  He’s perfectly still and for a second I think I’ve freaked him out. I keep thinking about how much better this will be without the sheath, and how much more we’ll feel without it. “You trust me that much?”

  “I do.”

  Nate pulls out of me, spins me around, so we’re face to face. “Kerry, are you sure? That makes things a lot more intimate.”

  “I’ve already told you how I want to be taken and said things I’ll deny when I see you again. This never happened. I wasn’t here.” I splay my hands on his chest and look up into his eyes. “I want everything. I don’t want to wonder. I’m on the pill and have been for a while. I don’t have anything contagious or concerning—no STDs or weird infections. Do you?”

  “No.” His gaze is brilliantly blue and wide, completely focused on me. His lips part slightly as he waits for my reply, perched like he’s incredibly excited or worried.

  It’s funny how those two things can look the same at times. It’s the moment before you decide to literally jump off the cliff. It takes guts and a good amount of stupidity to actually consider doing it, but the amount of determination and courage needed to put said plan into action—to actually drag your feet toward the edge and hurl your body out into space—that’s something altogether different.

  There’s a bit of doubt that continues to echo through my mind. It skittered in the day Matt dumped me and has been gnawing at me ever since. It’s like my mind is infested with doubt. All the what-ifs and failed attempts to become who I wanted to be won’t shut up. I thought I’d have the great love story. I found the boy when we were kids and we’d be together forever. Picket fences and 2.5 kids later, I’d be a schoolteacher and stay home during the summer to tend our little piece of the American dream.

  But when Matt broke things off with me, that dream shattered. A wild weed grew up in the chasm he left in my heart, sinking its roots deep and making me pause, its bloom alluring and deadly. It taunts me with every impulse I’ve ever had and was too afraid to follow. It whispers of chances untaken and breathless encounters yet to be explored. It’s freeing and scary. It lifts me up and takes me high—so high I’m afraid the fall alone will kill me. I’m averse to taking risks and pushing the envelope, but that wild part of me—the part I didn’t know
was there until recently—I’m having trouble tuning it out. The problem is daunting and I haven’t a clue as to how to fix it. How am I supposed to silence a part of me that’s crying out for freedom? Because that’s what it sounds like—a shrill voice in the darkness refusing to shrivel up and die. Is that really who I am? Is that wildness me? How am I supposed to know?

  The thoughts rush through my mind in a cascade, flowing so rapidly I can’t possibly set my finger on one thought. Instead they merge and rush through me, cold and pressing, pushing me forward and filling my body with a cool confidence that’s completely intoxicating. I’m power-drunk and I love it. At this moment, Nate is enthralled and I’m the woman who’s got him on a hook. He wants anything I offer, and isn’t holding anything back, so why should I?

  I call it. Cautious Kerry is dead. This is the new me. I surveyed the cliff and stared into the sun. The blinding light beckons to me, calling me forward. The rush of lust and adrenaline mingle and my shoulders pull back as my chest curves out into a classic S-curve.

  Posed naked in front of him, I say with a flirtatious smile on my lips, “I’m game for anything and everything. Ditching the condom is your call. Do your best. Leave me so breathless I forget my name.”

  Nate suppresses a grin as he steps back and pulls off the condom.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sated, with a silly grin on my face, I lie in Nate’s bed for a while. We say nothing and I wonder if he regrets anything. I’m not asking because I sure as hell don’t, which surprises me. I did things with him that I’ve never done before, acts that will make my cheeks burn in the light of day. He had me so wildly turned on that I didn’t think at all. I was a basic version of myself—Kerry 1.0. Apparently, she doesn’t say much and fucks hard. She also likes orange juice in copious amounts. I’ve already had three glasses and decide to go finish off the carton.

  When I swing my legs out of bed and my feet hit the floor, I would normally stop and pull on a shirt or something to cover up my nakedness. The curve of my stomach is too big and the padding on my hips shows how much I like milkshakes. I’m not Amazon Barbie, but I feel okay with myself at the moment, so I bypass the clothing and pad down the hallway nude. I feel Nate’s eyes on me appreciating the view as I head to the kitchen.

  I call back to him, “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water would be great.” His voice is gravelly, rough from voicing deep commands. Combined with that throaty groans of pleasure that erupted when I did certain things, things that make me go hot now that I think about them, it’s no wonder his voice sounds rough.

  “You got it.”

  I don’t bother turning on the lights in the kitchen. I’ve been in here a few times already and have an idea where things are, well the things that matter anyway. Nate’s fridge was nearly bare when I got here, and now it’s totally empty. The guy hates grocery shopping, so he only had a few odds and ends that came from a convenience store down the block. I might have to stop there next time I head over here for another fuckfest. Assuming there is another.

  I pause and consider not being with him again. That would suck. He’s been good for me, despite our rough start. I hope I’ve been good for him. Based on the way he spoke my name earlier, I know at the very least that he had a good time.

  As I stare into the fridge, I fixate on the tiny light at the back of the icebox. It illuminates the small kitchen, casting shadows into the dark corners. I grab the carton, crack the top, and tip it back, guzzling the OJ. My throat hurts—a particular sexy act didn’t go according to plan—and the cool liquid feels good.

  When I come up for air, I call back to Nate, “I think I bruised my uvula.”

  His laughter reaches me and he says something, but I don’t hear him.

  Something in the dark corner catches my eye in my peripheral, and I turn slowly. The hairs on my arms stand on end and my heart thumps wildly. Someone is watching me. I feel eyes on me. As I turn and look at the empty table and chairs, I scan the room. There’s no one here. I pad across the linoleum and toward the back door. The darkness hid it before, but I see it now. There’s a space, a dim crack of light between the jamb and the door—it’s open. Someone was here.

  Stepping forward, I put my palm on the door and push it shut, and lock it. As I do so, a small slip of paper protrudes from the slit in the door.

  I pull it out and scan the scribble:

  PAY YOUR DEBT AT NINE SUNDAY NIGHT

  My heart sinks as I stare at the note. It’s from Ferro. It has to be. I crumple up the paper and try to push aside the bile that rises up in my mouth. He was here, in the house? Did he watch us? That’s disgusting! Even worse, how did I not notice him? Couldn’t I tell if someone were here? Caution was the furthest thing from my mind at the time. I was secure in thinking Nate and I were the only ones in the house. Although, I doubt I’d be aware of anything but Nate, wrapped up in him the way I was.

  I guzzle the rest of the juice and stuff the note in the carton before tossing it in the trash. Worry pinches my face and that uneasy sensation settles once more into the pit of my stomach. I grab Nate a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. As I pad back to his room, I decide I need to tell him what I did to get this house back before it blows up in my face. I just have to find the right time.

  CHAPTER 4

  The right moment doesn’t present itself quickly. Nothing is effortless when it comes to me. Why did I think telling Nate I nearly castrated his biological father to get back his house would be easy? It’s nearly four in the morning by the time I roll out of his bed. Nate’s dark lashes flutter as he attempts to keep his gaze locked on my face, but sleep paws at him until he succumbs.

  Quietly, I slip on my clothes without waking him. I hate goodbyes. Besides, what am I supposed to say to the guy? Thanks for blowing my mind and giving me more orgasms in one day than I’ve had in my entire life…by the way, I drank all your juice. Yeah, no thanks.

  As I sneak out the front door and pull it closed, I feel like a douche. Not saying goodbye is lame, but I don’t want to wake him and I can’t stay until sunrise. As it is, the bus is a sore thumb and my stupid, oversized rodent also came out for a booty call last night. He doesn’t exactly operate in stealth mode. While I was having a good time, he went at it too. The little bastard made love to all the trashcans on the block.

  As I stand at the curb in rumpled clothes and serious sex hair, I gape. There’s not one garbage pail left standing. They all lie on their sides with the contents strewn all over the asphalt.

  “Crap,” I mutter to myself, wondering if I should pick them all up. It’d take the rest of the night. That little rat tipped every single can, save one.

  I turn and gaze at Nate’s trash in the brown pail, neatly waiting at the curb for removal. That’s bad for business. All his neighbors are going to think that Nate’s weird friend with the bus went through their trash.

  As if on cue, the fuzzy little pain in the ass comes waddling toward me before curving to make a beeline for the bus. I whisper-rant at him, “You had to eat everyone’s garbage, didn’t you? Jeez, PITA!” I shake my head and put fists on my hips, glaring at him. The raccoon doesn’t respond. He’s such a bitch. “That’s your name now, pain in the ass. I hope you’re happy.”

  So I do what any other girl in my situation would do. I head to the curb and glance up and down the block, making sure I’m unobserved before taking Nate’s trashcan and knocking it over. The lid falls off and white GLAD bags fall out. The neighbor’s dumped pails are messier.

  Holy hell, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I bend over and grab the plastic, ripping it with my nails and then kicking the bag so the garbage spills out. An empty KFC container and chicken bones goes flying along with tissues and a ridiculous amount of dental floss. Nate has a flossing fetish and seriously needs an intervention, because what the hell? I stare at the ball of blue floss, tangled in the chicken carcass. I don’t have time to ponder my lover’s dental obsession. I need to make his garbage as mess
y as everyone else’s, so I repeat the slash and trash to two more bags and then hightail it to my bus.

  When I climb the stairs, the little beast hisses at me, like I went to a party without him. As I start the engine, I snap at him, “Oh shut up, Pita. It’s not like I could clean it all up. What else was I supposed to do?”

  Of course, if Nate knew I ripped up his garbage, he might have second thoughts about banging me again. Don’t dip your wick in crazy is a dude mantra and playing in his garbage is a few ticks past insane. It’s the equivalent of eating my freak flag with ketchup. At the same time, floss much, Nate?

  Pita hisses and then scratches the leather seat and settles in as the bus lurches to life. I get the hell out of there, and don’t look back.

  CHAPTER 5

  The next day I’m a zombie. I plop down hard at the lunch table across from Emily. She’s sporting a freshly dyed head of Kool-Aid colored blue and grape hair. The spiked dog collar has been replaced with a strap that looks like it came from a bra.

  I stare at it. “New choker?”

  She lifts a pierced brow and nods. “Upcycled.”

  “As in it went higher than your tits?” I say it straight-faced and stuff a taco in my mouth.

  Emily nearly chokes on her soda. Her jaw drops and she looks me over. “No, upcycled—as in recycled with a higher, more glam purpose. That was slightly ostentatious for this time of day. What got into you?” Her gaze slips over me, appraisingly, and then the corner of her mouth tips up and I get treated to a nod of respect.

  “Nothing. I'm just sick of pussyfooting around all the time. I’m going to be blunt for the rest of my life. You have a bra strap on your neck, dude. Phys Ed sweats make up ninety percent of my wardrobe. We both are freaked out by those stairs at the bar.”

  Emily snorts, “With good reason.”

  I munch another bite and wipe a piece of lettuce off my lip before saying, mouth still full, “I like the strap choker. It’s like a big ‘F YOU’ to everyone. The hair rocks, too.”