The Dark of You by S.M. Shade
Chapter Fourteen
Disappointment greets me first thing the next day. Reeve didn’t come back overnight, and I can hardly blame him. It’s my own fault for jumping to a conclusion. For thinking the worst of him. The last thing he said to me was “I’ll always protect you.” They don’t sound like the words of someone who’s done with me, and I try to hold onto that.
It’s tempting to sulk in bed all day, but I’ve come too far to let myself get dragged back down that depression hole again. It’s a bright, sunny day. A good day to be outside. Maybe I’ll just lounge on the patio.
The unopened box containing my new laptop catches my eye from the desk in the corner of the living room. That’s what I should do. It’s ridiculous that it’s gathering dust because I’m afraid of how I’ll feel.
I’m not writing, I remind myself, retrieving the box and unpacking the contents. The battery is already half full. It gets set aside while I make a cup of coffee and some toast, then I take everything out to the back patio. Distracting myself has become an art form for me, and I’m practicing it hard today, desperate not to worry about whether Reeve will return.
It doesn’t take long for me to get the computer set up and the programs I usually use installed. My email pops up with messages instantly. As tempting as it is to ignore, I click on the one sent last night from my agent. She has the paperwork and contracts for me to sign regarding the rights to the Midnight Terror film, and asks to meet while she’s going to be close to my town.
After thinking about it for a moment, I respond, and we make arrangements to meet at a coffee shop in town tomorrow afternoon. As soon as I turn the computer off and set it on the small table beside me, I feel him.
My back straightens, and I scan my surroundings, waiting to see him walking toward me with that intense look he always has. Only the trees stare back, rustled by the faint breeze. My ears strain to listen for his voice, his laugh, but all that’s audible is the buzz of cicadas and the birds competing with their songs.
It doesn’t matter. I know he’s near. He’s watching, and it fills me with relief. “Reeve,” I call, standing up. “I know you’re there. Come out.” An apology waits on my tongue. He deserves it, but I want to give it to him face to face, not while he’s lurking.
Nothing. Not a sound or a glimpse of him. The man’s stubborn as hell. An idea occurs to me. A way to lure him out and back to me, but do I dare? It’s the middle of the afternoon.
Screw it, I’m surrounded by woods and I can’t remember the last time a stranger came around to the back of my property. Facing the forest where I can feel his gaze, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it onto the lounger. My shorts go next. Pausing, I peruse my surroundings again. Excitement fights with uncertainty when my panties are added to the pile of discarded clothes. My skin heats and not just because of the sun. He’s watching. The awareness of his gaze on me has never been so strong as I raise my arms above my head in a stretch, then leisurely lie down on the lounger.
He loves to surprise me by showing up unexpectedly, so I close my eyes and soak in the sensations of being nude in the afternoon sunlight; warmth covering me like a blanket, the breeze rubbing its back across my nipples and playing with my hair. Every second is full of anticipation. Is he approaching? Will his hands find my body any moment?
Lying on my back, I bend my knees, and move them slightly apart. Just enough to give him a peek. In my head is a picture of him, watching from the woods while my hands run up to caress my breasts. My fingers travel over my stomach then down to stroke my thigh so slowly. A sound to my right brings a smile to my face. I knew he couldn’t resist.
Instant mortification makes me want to hide under the lawn when I open my eyes. It’s not Reeve. A man in a company uniform stands maybe fifty feet away, on the edge of the yard, typing into a little device. He’s doing his best to pretend he doesn’t see me, but there’s no way that’s possible.
I’m frozen in place with embarrassment and alarm. He doesn’t come any closer, just types in the numbers and walks away. A meter reader. Someone from the electric company comes out to read the meter three times a year and it just happens to be today.
He’s gone, but the mood is broken. It’s the fastest I’ve ever gotten dressed. It’s safe to say exhibitionism isn’t my thing. Whether it’s just my frazzled mood, or he’s actually left, it doesn’t feel like Reeve is watching anymore, and I scoop up my stuff to retreat inside.
The time limps by, maybe because I’m not getting anything accomplished except waiting for Reeve to show up. He had to have seen what happened, which is even more embarrassing. What was I thinking?
The day crawls into night with no sign of him. Everything I do feels like going through the motions. My appetite is nonexistent, and I only nibble at dinner before tossing the rest and heading to my room. All I want is to get this day over with. Surely, Reeve will show up tonight. Before bed, I pick out a decent looking outfit to wear to meet my agent tomorrow, then shower, and call it a night far earlier than usual.
Despite my broken sleep the night before, tonight isn’t any better. Tossing and turning finally exhausts me enough to enter a thin sleep which doesn’t leave me feeling the least bit rested when I wake the next morning.
Bloodshot eyes look back at me from the mirror. As tempting as it is to cancel my lunch meeting with my agent today, it’ll at least be a distraction from the growing anxiety that I won’t see Reeve again.
A small amount of makeup coupled with the nice skirt and blouse I’ve chosen can’t cover up the mess I am right now. That’s clear as soon as I approach my agent, Amelia, at the small coffee shop downtown. Her expression is full of concern when she greets me.
“Darcy, hi, it’s good to see you again. How are you doing?”
“I’m good. How have you been?”
A frown creases her face at my perfunctory answer, showing wrinkles that weren’t present before. Now approaching her sixties, her age has started to show more since I saw her last, around two years ago. Most of our communication stays over email or phone.
“I’m fine. Just fine.”
Before she can start in about whether I’m writing or what I’m writing, I put the subject where I want it. “Do you have the contracts I need to sign?”
“I do.” She pats a manila file folder sitting beside her cup. Her small purse sits atop it, keeping the papers from blowing away in the wind since she’s chosen a table on the patio. “I’ve looked them over, as has the lawyer, and everything looks good. The stipulations you insisted on are included. You’ll be afforded the opportunity to read the screenplay once it’s completed.” She grins at me. “They’re really moving along on this. Already holding auditions. It’s very exciting.”
“It is.” Does my smile look as forced as it feels? This movie is far down my list of priorities. “Nash Fullman needs to be allowed to read the screenplay as well and give his opinion on it.” It may not make a difference—in the end they’ll do as they please—but I’m not going to leave him out.
“That was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Amelia pauses to sip her drink. “Are you certain that you want to hand all the royalties over to him?”
“Yes.”
When it’s clear I’m not going to continue, she does. “And you want that to include your portion of the merchandising profits? Do you realize how lucrative this could turn out to be if the movie does well?”
“I hope so. Nash needs it.”
Amelia hesitates then leans on the table. “This is your work, Darcy. He signed off long ago for you to have the rights to tell his story. You don’t have to do this, you know.”
She doesn’t understand. To everyone else, it’s all about the money. “It’s my work, but it’s his story. Not to mention I have no shortage of funds. My decision on this is final. You get your cut, he gets the royalties and my percentage of the merchandising, along with whatever else comes with it. I’m not doing this for a profit.”
She thinks I’m crazy, I can hear it in her sigh as she sits back. “Okay, it’s quite a sum so you understand why I wanted to double check with you.”
“Absolutely, and I appreciate it.”
Amelia opens the file, but whatever she says escapes me because a familiar face walks right past us. Pausing for a moment, Reeve stares at me, then steps out of sight around the corner of the building.
“Darcy?” Amelia says.
Reeve just walked by me. That’s all I can care about. “Sorry, excuse me for a minute,” I exclaim. I’m on my feet and stepping over the scrolled metal fence that separates the patio from the sidewalk before she can respond.
When I look around the corner of the building, he’s at the next intersection, walking away. I’m not going to let him go. Turnabout is fair play, and this time, I’m the stalker. I follow him for three blocks until he gets lost in a crowd of people. By this time I’m running, bumping into shoulders and excusing myself, but not slowing down.
Once I make it through the crowd and across the next street—ignoring the driver who honks at me for crossing against the light—there’s no sign of him. Turning in a complete circle, I scan the area. “Damn it.” The frustration is enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Get your ass back here.”
His voice comes from right behind me, and he chuckles at my yelp of surprise. He isn’t standing behind me like I expect when I turn around. Instead, I’m met with a line of tall bushes planted along the wall of a thrift store. What the hell?
“Now, Darcy.”
He’s behind the bushes. They’re too thick for me to see him or get to him this way. My heart pounds as I run the few steps to the edge of the building and look behind them. Halfway down the building, he stands, leaning against the brick wall. He doesn’t say a word when I run into the narrow space. Branches reach out to draw scratches on my arms and legs, but it barely registers.
My face slams into his chest when I throw myself at him, hugging him tight and breathing in the scent of him. He’s really here. He doesn’t respond by hugging me back, and when I take a step backward, I’m struck by the harsh way he regards me. His anger hits me like needles.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. He doesn’t brush my hand away when I slide it behind his neck, but he still doesn’t touch me. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I know you didn’t hurt Dax. I never should’ve doubted you. It won’t happen again.”
He raises his hand to swipe a tear off of my cheek with his finger, his eyes burning into mine. Seconds feel like minutes until he replies, “You showed yourself to another man. Spread your legs where he could see your pussy.”
His words stun me, and for a second I have no idea what he’s talking about. Then it hits me. The meter reader.
“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know he was there.”
He reaches under my skirt and grabs me between my legs. His face remains impassive, but fury lives in his tone as he squeezes, making me gasp. “He saw what’s mine. Did you like that?”
“No! I was out there for you. You left and I—”
His other hand travels around to grab my ponytail and tugs it down, making my head tilt up. God, those eyes. They’ve gone the deep green of a midnight forest.
“Oh Darcy, you thought you could lure me in, didn’t you? I think you need a reminder you aren’t the one in control here.”
The hands holding me by both ends make that crystal clear. He’s more in control of me than I’d ever want to admit. The last two days have been miserable, and he’s been my only obsessive thought. “I wanted to see you, to apologize for not believing you. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
His laugh is wicked, and his grin even more so. He releases his grip between my legs and brings the hand to my shoulder. “Show me how sorry you are. Show me who you belong to.” Pressure on my shoulder is accompanied by a pull of my hair, urging me onto my knees.
We can’t be seen unless someone looks right between the building and the bushes, but we’re only a few feet away from the pedestrians on the sidewalk. Am I really going to get down on my knees in the dirt and blow him?
Fuck yes, I am.
Because I am his. The ground is cool on my bare legs when I kneel in front of him. His hand stays on the back of my head while I unfasten his dark jeans and pull them down until his cock is free. Already hard, it grows larger still when I wrap my hand around the smooth skin and stroke him. My tongue wets my lips as I admire what’s in front of me.
Despite where we are, or that I’ve just left Amelia waiting for me, I want to take my time with him. He’s too perfect for me to rush. His hips give a subtle jerk when I lick around the head, and I look up at him.
He’s in control, huh? Let’s just see. For every gentle suck, I spend twice as long licking and teasing. Working that sweet spot under the head that makes his whole body tense no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
If he thinks this is some kind of punishment or penance, then he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does. With an occasional voice and footsteps passing behind us, his hand pulling my hair, and his hard cock between my lips, I’ve never been so turned on. Embarrassment was all I felt when the meter guy saw me, but this is different.
The possibility that someone might catch us, might see me making this beautiful, fierce man bite back moans and groans, is fucking hot. His frustration at my slow teasing pace erupts, and he grabs my chin, making me look up at him.
“Open your mouth,” he growls, and I obey. He grabs my head and slides his cock back to my throat. It’s a good thing my gag reflex is nearly nonexistent.
When I take him all the way to the back, he nods. “That’s right. I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you’re going to swallow.”
When he backs out a little, I grab his hips and pull him in, sucking him deep while I relax my throat. It’s my last bid for control, but with him, I’ll never win. He fists my hair just behind my ears on both sides of my head and does exactly what he said he would.
There’s no time to lick or suck when he’s thrusting into my mouth. All I can do is take him. The noises that escape him make every second worth it. His thrusts become staggered, and I know he’s close. “Fuck, yes, Darcy,” he groans. His hands hold my head tight as he comes down my throat.
The sting of my scalp when he releases me is satisfying. He pulls up his jeans, fastens them, and helps me to my feet. As soon as I’m standing, he plants a kiss on my lips that’s shocking in its tenderness. “You may not get answers from me, or the ones you want, but I haven’t lied to you. I won’t lie to you.”
“I know. I believe you. Just don’t disappear on me again.”
He smooths my hair that must look like a bird’s nest now. “I had to take care of something.”
“You weren’t punishing me?”
“I told you, I only punish those who deserve it.” His smile tamps out the flame of anxiety that’s burned for days. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
This time I don’t doubt he’ll return. He never lies to me.
For a good minute after he leaves, I try to neaten my hair and brush as much dirt from my legs as I can. My knees are the worst, but there’s no help for it. No one seems to notice when I emerge from the bushes and start back toward the restaurant. It seems like I’ve been gone a long time because so much happened so fast, but it’s barely been ten minutes.
Amelia’s gaze sweeps over me when I walk back to our table. “What happened? Are you okay?”
My throat’s sore and will probably have a hell of a bruise, but that’s not information I plan to share. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I took off so quickly. I saw a friend I’ve been looking for and had to catch up with him.”
Doubt emanates from her, but before she can ask anything else, I interrupt.
“Actually, he’s waiting on me. If you want to go ahead and get the papers out, I’ll sign them. We can wrap this up.”
“Uh, right.” Amelia pulls out the papers and points out the places where I need to sign or initial.
“Okay then, I’ve got to run. Thank you for meeting with me. I’ll be in touch.”
She calls my name when I get a few steps away from the table, and I pause to look back. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look, I don’t know, stressed.”
“Insomnia has been giving me trouble the past few nights. I’m just tired. Thanks, Amelia.”
She nods, and I’m on my way again. Stressed. Well, maybe getting face fucked in some bushes could look like stress. By the time I get to my car I’m laughing at the absurdity of what my life has become.