Take It - Part Two Page 2

  "Something's certainly hard,” I joke, coming up for just a moment. My fingers move to either side of his open pants so I can have more of him. All of him.

  "Don't be shy. Take it all."

  And I do. I take him deeper into my throat than I ever have before, and he goes wild from the friction on his rock-hard cock. I bob up and down, faster and faster, growing more excited as his primal grunts grow frantic, and his grip on my red hair gets firmer.

  “Jenny, Christ Jenny—how are you even doing that?” he mutters as I feel his legs tighten and his hot come pours down the back of my throat. I keep him in my mouth for a long moment as he tries to compose himself. I flick my tongue once more, sending shivers up his body as I release him and sit up. Buckling my seat belt I feel completely accomplished, as though I just tamed a beast with my bare hands. We don’t say another word to each other. There is nothing to say.

  An hour later, deep in the woods, we stop for a rest. It's damned hot, and I'm feeling sweaty under these clothes. Somewhere he'd found red shorts with the double white stripes running down the outside of my thighs like I wore at Sunshine Scout Camp, a matching red beanie, and of all things, a merit badge sash. The ivory silk blouse he's added is so not regulation Sunshine Scout, but what the hell? The lacy bra he’s provided gives me a good idea what he plans.

  As Harrison swats at another pesky mosquito and takes a long look around to make sure we're really alone, I take my time enjoying a long stare at the man himself. He’s dressed in no-nonsense hiking boots, camouflage cargo shorts, and a long-sleeved shirt that does nothing to conceal the solid planes of his rock-hard torso and well-formed biceps.

  "Alone at last," I coo.

  "Yes, it would appear that way. I have you all to myself."

  "I'm completely at your mercy," I tease, but the words feel funny in my mouth. I can’t remember why, but being at Harrison’s mercy feels wrong. Brushing off the heebie-jeebies, I melt into his open arms.

  "Then I intend to be merciless," Harrison growls, the smile on his unshaven mug assuring me I really have no need to worry.

  Letting my inner actress run rampant for a few minutes, I let Harrison enjoy the thrill of a spirited chase as I dart away from him. Reaching for me, intent on pulling me into his embrace, I squeal and whirl around, dashing a few yards away, giggling out some silliness that he should catch me if he can.

  I tease him a minute or two, playing hard to get. When he makes a lunge for me, I take off like a spooked doe. There's an overgrown path through the huge pine trees, and I speed away, laughing and taunting him the whole time. This is just a game, but something in the pit of my stomach keeps fluttering. Something keeps telling me I should run really fast.

  "Watch where you're going, Jenny. These woods are full of poison ivy."

  "I may be a city sophisticate, but I know what poison ivy looks like. You just worry about yourself."

  He keeps up with me easily. In fact, I suspect he's hanging back a little, not wanting the chase to end, not wanting to catch me too quickly. I keep moving, though my breath is growing a bit labored now. I'm looking over my shoulder at him every minute or so, making sure he's still following me, using every excuse to egg him on. If he quits suddenly and I don't notice, I'll be very lost. I was a Sunshine Scout, but we hardly ever went hiking. Mostly, we sat around reciting silly scout laws and talking about boys. We never went into the woods.

  Harrison is an absolute angel. This is so much better than working in BioSim's stuffy office. I turn around, flashing the sweetest seductive smile I can muster, and take off with a fresh spurt of energy.

  "Careful, Jenny,” a voice booms, but it’s not Harrison’s. It’s inside my head.

  Why is there a hint of gasoline on the wind?

  “I'm thinking maybe we should turn around and go to my cottage," Harrison offers, looking concerned.

  "Why—are you scared? Don't be such a pussy," I tease, looking over my shoulder as I pick up my pace, kicking dead leaves as I move along. "We'll be fine."

  All of a sudden I'm airborne, my knapsack flying off into the darkness. I come down hard, my forehead crunching into small twigs, my face, neck, and shoulders grinding into the leaves and dark soil, burrowing into the forest mulch to hide my embarrassment. I feel a painful yank as something refuses to follow me into my crash of shame. One of my legs is caught in the crook of whatever I fell over. Damn—it hurts!

  "Jenny . . . wait . . . don't move! I'm coming," Harrison calls.

  Long seconds later, he's next to me, squatting down to prop up my head and shoulders with his knapsack as a look of caring concern spreads across his face..

  "Are you all right? Be still, don't move anything."

  "I'm fine, Harrison. Just embarrassed as hell. Not looking where I was going. That’s what happens when you get in over your head and stop paying attention. Just get me outta here, okay?"

  "Sure thing," he says, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "In a sec . . . or two," he adds.

  "My foot is stuck." Trying to make sure he understands the severity of it, I tug again at my leg that won’t come free.

  I feel his hands moving gently over my body, turning me, easing the strain on my trapped ankle, yet not freeing me. Instead, he rocks back on his heels and rummages through his knapsack for something. Seconds later, he emerges with a small camera. With a wicked grin on his face, he begins snapping pictures.

  "Harrison, get me free!" I beg.

  "In a sec," is all he says as he puts the camera aside and slowly begins to undo my blouse. With a definite devilish plan dancing in his eyes, he pushes my blouse away from my breasts and deftly unclips the front of my silky bra. Exposed, I feel a sharp breeze blow across me. I half expect him to begin massaging my breasts, or to seize one aroused bud between his lips and begin working it over with his agile tongue. I want him to, but I’m feeling claustrophobic by my trapped foot.

  Instead, always a man of purpose, he unfastens my shorts and begins shimmying them down to my ankles. With his goal in sight, strong fingers shove aside the damp crotch of my silk panties, and he shows me exactly what he intends to do with his tongue. I have never been so torn between begging to be free and never wanting to leave this place. I go wild, completely working to forget the ghostly hint of gasoline and my trapped leg.

  Though Harrison leaves my leg imprisoned between the two branches of the half-rotted tree trunk, his insistent lovemaking is all gentle sweetness designed exclusively to pleasure me. I lose myself completely in his arms, wantonly, willingly, submitting to the gentle caress of his fingers and lips.

  “Jenny, do you want me to fuck you?” Harrison whispers hoarsely. “Do you still want me to take your leg out, or should I just fuck you here and now?”

  I don’t think on it for a moment. “Yes, fuck me hard Harrison. I don’t care if I ever get my foot out. Just fuck me.”

  “How do you like it Jenny? Tell me.”

  Pulling small twigs and curled leaves from my tousled hair, he brushes the heavy curtain away from my face and bends to kiss my lips. I feel the soft pressure, the clean freshness of his breath, skipping between my lips as his tongue begins a dance with mine. As I surrender, he cradles me in his arms, deftly stripping away most of our clothing before using his rough fingers to bring the tips of my breasts to excitement.

  “I need it, Harrison. I need your cock in me. Don’t make me wait anymore. Fuck me until I come. Fuck me until you come. Don’t ever stop.”

  Pulling one of my hands down to my clit, he moves my fingers in the slow circular motion that I like and then leaves me to keep it up on my own.

  “I’m going to need both hands if you really want it hard.” He braces himself near my shoulders and angles himself to ensure optimal pounding against me. I quicken my pace on my clit as he teases me with his cock, just moving his hips so that his tip is tracing around me.

  “Now Harrison, please fuck me now.” My voice is so loud it echoes through the woods, sending birds skittering away in a
flurry.

  “You need this don’t you? You have to have my cock or you’ll go crazy. You can’t live without it.” He enters me, but only a few centimeters before pulling out and leaving my back arching in desperate protest.

  “It’s not a game Harrison. You started this. You made me this desperate for you. Don’t play with me. It’s not fair.”

  “Beg me.”

  I think about everything Harrison and I have done over the last few weeks, but this is different. There is a difference between demanding what I want, showing him the road map to the best orgasm for me, and begging.

  His cock enters me again, but just the same depth as last time, and I shift my hips to try to get more of him, but he pulls away again.

  “Beg me.”

  “Please Harrison, fuck me. I can’t live without it. I can’t breathe without you. I need what you give me. I need it every day. I need your cock. I need you.”

  With that, his eyes narrow, and his flat expression becomes a wide victorious smile. He drills into me over and over, and it’s like my most basic need is being met. It’s more desperate than any hunger or thirst I’ve every felt. It’s like oxygen.

  I swear I hear him mutter, “You're mine now,” but the time for serious conversation is over. As he begins to pump in earnest, I strive to match his cadence, falling into an easy rhythm as though we've been lifelong partners.

  I know how I feel about him, and we begin to increase the tempo, rising rapidly to an explosive shared climax. I believe my deepening feelings are shared. My love is enough to camouflage the discomfort in my foot. What’s a little pain for this much pleasure? This is worth it. Isn’t it?

  It's only much later, after we're both pleasantly exhausted, happy, and sore, that I realize it's grown much darker and foggy. I have no idea where the path I ran along is, much less which direction to head in, or where we are.

  "So can you help me get free of this now?” I ask, pulling my clothes back onto my body the best I can.

  “Sorry, Jenny. I’ve got go. People are waiting for these pictures,” he shrugs, tapping his pocket where the camera is tucked away.

  “That’s not funny. You can’t leave me here. Help me get my foot out.”

  “You should have been looking where you were going. Since when do you get lost in the woods with a stranger?”

  “You’re not a stranger. I love you. Stop messing around and get me out of here. I’m not joking anymore.”

  “This was never a joke, Jenny.” As his words get caught up in a rogue gust of wind, I watch him walk away.

  Chapter Three

  I awaken, jerked back from the twilight zone to harsh reality. My body is pulsing with the energy that always follows an encounter with Harrison, but it washes away quickly when I realize it was nothing more than a dream. A vivid, intoxicating nightmare, taking me from titillated to furious in an instant. There's no escaping the crushing weight of that, just as there's no escaping this hospital bed right now.

  Harrison fucked me over, and even in my dreams he’s taunting me, unable to live without the pleasure he’s exposed me to. How am I going to survive in a world where I can’t talk to Harrison? How will I breathe when he’s not evoking unimaginable sensations of erotic pleasure from me? How do I hate someone I just started to love, someone I can’t imagine never touching again?

  It's dark, and I’m as trapped in this bed as I was in the wreckage of my car. I'm starting to panic all over again. I stare at the nurses' call button and consider begging for a sedative. My physical pain is being managed, but do they have anything for a broken heart, bruised pride, and a shattered life?

  The door opens, letting the light and noise from the hallway pour in. A flutter in my heart prays it’s Harrison. I hate him, but, in the depth of my weakness, I crave his comfort. It makes no logical sense to desire a man who's betrayed and ruined me, but I’ve never claimed to be brilliant. I’m nothing more than a cautionary tale for other women. However, Harrison doesn’t step into my room; my mother does.

  “Oh baby, I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I got so lost.” Her familiar voice begs for forgiveness. It’s my mother’s most prominent characteristic: her desire to throw herself on every sword and beg for mercy. She’s apologized her way through life. She’s apologized for her very existence.

  “It’s fine, Mom.” I give her what she needs—absolution. “I’m going to be fine. You didn’t have to come all this way. You hate driving in the city.”

  “Don’t be crazy, Jenny. I’m your mother. Of course I’m going to come when I get a call that you nearly died in a fiery crash. What in the world were you doing on the Cape at that time of day? You should have been at work. I told them it wasn’t you, because you’d never take a day off.”

  I feel my heart crack open, spewing its guts everywhere. I'm so tempted to beg my mother to help me clean up the mess in my life. This is what she lives for, scooping people up and attempting to heal the world through rose-colored glasses. I desperately want my mother to fix this, but reality tells me that wouldn’t be the case. Mom will throw out some useless clichés about silver linings and everything happening for a reason. Utter nonsense. The only reason all of this happened is because I was foolish enough to fall in love with a man who betrayed me, for a reason I still don’t know.

  “I got fired, Mom, but I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to sleep and put all this behind me. I know you have a million questions, but I can’t answer them now.” The tears weren’t planned, but they are streaking down my face, joining those already ruining my mom's makeup. I can’t remember the last time I showed my mother even an ounce of vulnerability. Maybe a skinned knee twenty years ago?

  “I’ll do whatever you need, Jenny,” she sobs, coming to the side of my bed and resting her head next to mine, which is the only version of a hug my banged-up body can tolerate right now. “Come home with me, I’ll take care of you. I promise I won’t ask you a million questions. I just want you home with me, so I know you’ll be all right.”

  Her perfume envelops me in a cocoon of comforting familiarity, reminding me of everything she’s ever done for me, and how little I’ve done for her over the years. I’ve always said I’d never go home again. Being back under my mother’s roof is something I’ve worked hard to make sure I’d never have to do. But my career is as mangled as my car and my life. I have no income and not enough savings to last long enough to heal my body and salvage my career.

  “I can talk to your landlord and pack up your things for you. When you get out of here, we’ll go straight to my house.”

  Unable to will my voice to accept such a fate, the best I can do is nod in agreement. This is where my life has brought me. Back to the beginning. Back to zero. Back to nothing.

  Chapter Four

  There are flowers when I come back into my room after having my hand x-rayed, and they were sitting beside my bed. A really nice bouquet, not overdone or cheesy. No card. My mom brought me flowers the morning after she got the call, with a lengthy note inside, half gushy sentiment and half motherly scolding.

  Very few people even know, or care, that I'm here. It certainly didn't come from Mr. Jones or anyone else at BioSim. As far as they're concerned, I'm old garbage, ready to be drop-kicked into space. My heart thuds, thinking they might be from Harrison. There would be no excuse for what he did to me. There would be no coming back from that, but for some reason I still hope he cares for me. Maybe only to feel validated in my love for him.

  As I stare at the flowers I try to hold onto one bit of good news: the injury to my hand is not as bad as everybody assumed. I broke one finger, and it's going to be badly bruised for some time. But there are no torn tendons or ligaments. Some of the swelling has gone down, and I've regained some finger dexterity.

  This hospital stay isn't so bad, though I have no idea if I still have medical coverage through BioSim. I’m putting off finding out.

  The hospital stay is giving me time for serious clinical self-analys
is and an undisturbed shot at shaking myself out of this fog. God knows, when I get to Mom's house I won't have much alone time for deep introspection. If I know my mother, by the end of the first day she will have a kitchen table full of job openings clipped from the local paper and phone numbers scrawled across the clipboard next to her phone. It’s her idea of fixing things. She doesn’t understand I didn’t just lose my job; I ruined my career. I trashed my chances of working in my field ever again. I need to let that go and put my former life behind me. If I don’t tell her why, she’ll never stop trying to convince me something that drastic isn’t necessary.

  My plans for a future with Harrison Burke crashed with my car. I don’t have the energy or ammunition to confront him. For all the world knows, I was part of a devious plot to thrust his flawed Ultimate Glucose Solution on an unsuspecting public. But there will be someone to come in behind me and spot the same things I did. The drug will not make it through rigorous testing. I may have bought Harrison more time, but I didn’t give him any approval, so if that was his end game, it failed. I'm not even addressing the fact I thought we had the start of something special. The damage to my heart is a different beast all together. One I don’t feel brave enough to let out of the cage and slay.

  What frightens me more than anything about this scenario is if Harrison walked through my hospital room door right now, professed his love to me, and begged for forgiveness, I don’t know how I’d react. I feel so empty, but given the chance to refill myself, I might be stupid enough to actually allow him back into my life.

  He doesn’t seem to be trying to do that, so I don’t have to worry about my reaction, because it doesn’t look like he cares enough to even try.

  Staring at the bedside phone, I wonder if I should reach for it. My mom has gone home for the night. I only know two other numbers by heart. Tracey’s and Harrison’s. Straining toward it, I pull the whole thing to my body, and it tumbles off the stand and into my lap. Slowly I punch in Harrison’s cell phone number. It rings four times and goes to voicemail. It shouldn’t surprise me. No one picks up from a number they don’t know anymore.