Hansel 4(21)

A few more strokes for good measure, and I’m taking down my night pants. I press his shoulders gently back against the pillows and climb onto his face, where his mouth and hands ravage me until I’m screaming so loud I worry Echo will hear me through the walls.

When his tongue has bathed me thoroughly, and the heat of my arousal drips down my thighs, he withdraws his tongue from my throbbing flesh.

“Face away from me,” he says, “and ride my cock.”

I peel the covers down off him and find him standing straight up, pointed toward the ceiling. Sinking down on him causes us both to gasp. I bounce a few times, and he shudders.

“This is mine,” I whisper.

He groans my name. “No promises.”

“I’m not asking for promises,” I hiss, using my thighs to find a rhythm that will make him pant. “I’m not asking for anything but pleasure.”

That’s a lie.

I want it all from him. His thick, hard cock filling me up, balls bouncing beneath me as I ride. I want the heat we generate, streaming through me like a drug.

When I notice that he hasn’t come, despite how hard he is inside me, I turn around, ease him back down against the pillows, and suck his throat until it’s bruised. He’s thrusting his hips underneath mine, moaning and hissing and starting to grab at me, despite his injured hands.

His lips and tongue dance with my own, and then he pulls away. “Bite me,” he snaps.

“What?” I groan.

“Bite me—on my neck.”

I know without asking that he needs it hard. So while I bounce on his cock and stroke his cheek, I draw a little blood with my teeth.

He explodes inside me, then sags limply back, his eyes shut and his mouth open.

When, in the quietness of the room, he wraps his arm around me and draws me to him, I think that I’ve won.

His mouth finds my forehead. His kiss is soft and warm.

“I need time to think, Leah. Maybe a lot of time.”

My eyes tear up. I sleep up against him anyway. And then, a few minutes shy of four o’clock a.m., I kiss his cheek and go.





CHAPTER SEVEN

Leah

Three weeks later



The next few weeks are hard. Which really doesn’t cover it at all. One night, on a Tuesday, after spin class, I call Lana and tell her Luke’s connection to Aunt Shel.

She listens wordlessly to me as I go over everything again, needing to tell the story to someone. Needing to figure out my feelings.

After I hang up the phone, I realize one thing still doesn’t make complete sense to me: Why would Luke have mentioned me to Mother? Why would my sisters and I have come up at all? He’d never met us really. Aunt Shel, she loved us, I know, but she was so much younger than my mother. We saw her once or twice a year, and I can’t imagine her home being filled with pictures of us.

So why mention us? Why mention me, as Luke had said he did?

I toss and turn all night, as the soreness in my thighs and calves set in, and when the sun comes up, I brave the chilly morning air and run a few miles.

When I return to my door, breathing hard and dripping sweat, I find my mother sitting on my doormat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her sad smile setting off alarms inside my head.

“Mom?” I gape down at her.

She holds out her hand, and I help her up.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Dad?”

“We’re all fine.” Again, that weird, sad smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” I unlock my door and wave her into the den, where I grab my water bottle and start guzzling.

My mother wanders into the kitchen, and a chill runs down my spine. “Is it Laura? Lana? Mom, is someone sick?”

My parents are nearing cancer age, and I’m always worrying about things like that.

But my mother shakes her blonde head and leans against my countertop. “It’s not that, Leah, honey.” Her mouth pinches into something that’s definitely not a smile.

“Mom, you have to tell me why you’re here. You’re giving me a heart attack.”

She walks around and out of the kitchen, coming to a stop in front of me in my cozy living area. “Why don’t we sit down on the couch together, honey?”

“No. Just tell me, Mom.” I start rationing my breaths and relaxing my tense muscles one by one.

Finally, my mother sits down on the edge of my couch and looks up at me.

“I’m afraid there is a secret I’ve been keeping, Leah. One I now realize has to come to light.”

“What?” Blood roars like a jet inside my head. My mother reaches out and grabs my hand. I sink down beside her, hollow-headed and cold. I can feel it coming: something awful. “Tell me, Mom.”

She covers her face with both her hands as her shoulders start to shake.