Little Bird (Caged #1) Page 13

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” He pulls me back to the kitchen and looks closer at the split in my lip and the redness across my cheeks. “Megan you can’t just shrug this off. And you can’t think he’s going to stay away from you for a few days if he’s in town. What the fuck did this happen for?” His fingers graze my lip but I step away from him.

  “You don’t know our relationship, okay? Stop fucking acting like I’m a battered housewife,” I growl shoving him back. “And he’s not in town anymore. He left.” I drop my head and sigh, exhausted. “Where is he? I need sleep, Luke. Fuck.” I’m getting so frustrated and want to take my anger out on something and if he doesn’t stop, it’ll be him.

  “He’s asleep on the couch. I think the big house and not being familiar with any of it freaked him out. Fell asleep on my lap watching cartoons.” He smiles and looks into the living room. “Damn kid can put some food down. That is, after I found clothes to put him in. Luckily the neighbor keeps shit here for her grandkid and happened to be coming home as soon as you left. Unfortunately… her grandkid is a girl. It took bribing him with ice cream to put the clothes on.”

  I smirk. “Poor kid. And I’m sorry. I’ll admit I didn’t think this plan through that well and I just figured I’d hide him in the basement, but the kid’s afraid of the basement.” I push my tongue to my lip. “Anyway. Thanks.” Looking into his eyes, I don’t like the compassion I see. “For everything.” When I try to walk around him he grabs my arm and pulls me against him, pushing his thumb to my lip. That familiar pleasure of pain makes me exhale a shaky breath and close my eyes. “He’s passed out, Megs. We could go upstairs…” He trails off as he watches his thumb move across my jaw.

  “If he wakes up alone, he’ll freak, then possibly run out of the house and then get hit by a car and—”

  “Megan.” He chuckles sliding his hand into my messy bun. “The doors are locked, the alarm is set. If the door opens the alarm will go off. I’ll carry him up to one of the spare rooms.”

  I sigh knowing I should leave but erasing Jasper’s touch with Luke’s is so enticing.

  “It’s after three in the morning,” he whispers pulling me toward the living room and when he stops at the couch, he scoops Bronson up then grabs my hand, making sure I don’t try to run. He pulls me up the stairs while Bronson is fast asleep cradled in his arms.

  I head to the first room on the left, but Luke blurts to stop before I can turn the handle. “No. Here.” He nods towards a door at the end of the hall. Putting Bronson in a bed with no sheet he winces and whispers, “I’m in the process of cleaning the place out like my landlady told me to.”

  “Lucas.” I huff and chuckle grabbing blankets from the corner of the room.

  After tucking in Bronson, I want to run. Ditch the kid with Luke and never look back because that was too… homie, too happy family. This is not my life.

  “Lucas, I’m just going to go. When he’s awake, call me and I’ll get him.” I try to walk to the stairs but he grabs my wrist, closing Bronson’s door behind him.

  “No you don’t. I just saved your ass. Our asses, really, but I like your ass more. Come on.” He pulls me across the hall and I’m so exhausted I barely have any fight left in me. After slipping into the bedroom, he quietly closes the door behind him and pushes me against it. “I’ve missed you, Megs.”

  I groan and look away because I’m so tired I’m almost playing his fucked up game. The emotions, the need to see him. Fuck all this.

  He turns my face so I look at him again.

  “Lucas—” Before I can finish my thought, he gently kisses me. Not an urgent one. There’s no anger or hatred in it. It’s soft and slow, like he’s tasting me to remember me.

  His tongue parts my lips and I can’t fight it. With his hands on my hips, he pushes himself against me as we deepen the kiss.

  “Fuck, I love how you taste,” he groans moving his hand between my legs and rubbing through my jeans. “These need to go though.” With quick work of the button, he yanks and pushes them downward making the snug jeans scratch down my legs and I moan at the sting it’s causing my flesh.

  When his nose presses between my thighs, I open my eyes. “What if he wakes?” I whisper, trying not to give in. Trying to come up with excuses because if he wants to do this rough, I’m too sore and too humiliated to tell him what Jasper did to me before my hour long hot shower.

  “We’ll go slow. And you’re just going to have to be quiet.” With a quick yank, my thong is off and he pushes my legs farther apart and slides one, then two fingers into me, making me moan before his tongue even starts. “So delicious.”

  “Lucas,” I moan his name as my fingers slide into his hair. I start to grind on his mouth because in just under five minutes, I’m coming undone from an experienced tongue that knows how to deliver the most pleasurably vanilla orgasm. I’d take a lifetime of these over the shit Jasper does to me.

  I whimper out my release as I vibrate in his arms while he tries to hold me still. When my grip in his hair loosens, he slides up me so we’re standing face to face. I don’t know what comes over me but I jump on him and let my mouth clean myself from his lips.

  Walking backward, he spins toward the bed and gently lays me down while I dig my nails into his shoulder because I need a little bit harder than that.

  “Pants,” I pant out. “Shirt,” I moan wondering why the fuck he’s still dressed. I’m too tired and too horny for the foreplay. “Get naked,” I urge when he just stares at me with a stupid grin on his face.

  He takes his time removing his clothes, because he’s a sadistic bastard that gets pleasure from me waiting for the only thing I need right now. By the time he’s undressed he’s still just standing there, staring at me with that damn grin on his face, and a part of me wants to punch it off him.

  “Do you even know how beautiful you are?” He moves slowly, crawling up the bed and hovering over me, laying gentle kisses up my entire body.

  “Oh god, just fuck me.” I pull at him, not wanting to be a total bitch and tell him to cut the shit.

  Part of me wishes we could just come clean with it all and agree fucking is the only thing keeping us around the other. I don’t need his bullshit “you’re so beautiful” lines. I need his cock.

  When he rubs his swollen head over my throbbing clit I whimper and his eyes land on mine, but he doesn’t move.

  “Please,” I beg then reel back slightly because I’ve never begged like this. Jasper likes when I beg him to stop, not begin, and I’ve never begged for a cock.

  “I love hearing you beg.” He brings his mouth down to my nipple and starts nipping it. Not hard enough to draw blood but just hard enough to border that line. When he slides into me, he groans and buries his face in my neck. “Fuck, Megs.”

  I bring my nails down his back, but not in the clawing way I’m used to. The thought to draw blood isn’t there, I just want him to know that when he says my nickname he has for me as he buries his cock deep inside me, it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever experienced. And then the realization that this is love making, this is not painful fucking, makes my body shiver.

  “Hit me,” I tell him unable to take the emotions all of these actions are backing.

  He pulls away from me, never slowing his thrusts, and narrows his eyes at me. Immediately, his hand comes down on my tit and I’m fairly certain he left a hand print.

  I yelp but he pushes his hand against my mouth, slamming into me harder while he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Quiet sex isn’t your strong suit, is it?” His hand stays covering my mouth while he clamps his teeth onto my neck, right where the bruise is from the last time.

  His thrusts get more forceful, deeper, and with every thrust he groans and bites a little harder. I close my eyes and try not to focus on the fact this isn’t the punishing fuck I deserve and am used to. It’s for my pleasure and I’m so exhausted that the emotions start to take over and tears come to my eyes because I don’t deserve wh
at he’s trying to show me. That the pain I need from sex can be delivered with love and consent.

  “Fuck, Megs,” he whispers slowing his thrusts. “Too hard? I’m sorry, fuck I’m so sorry.” He kisses away my tears which makes them fall harder.

  Even through the emotions spilling over, I’m on the brink of orgasm because he hasn’t stopped, he’s just going softer, with more deliberate strokes and they’re hitting that spot.

  “No, don’t stop, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” I beg him as I contort under him because this build up is taking away my breath. When it hits and my body is in a fit of convulsions, I look him in the eyes, tears inexplicably pouring from mine. “Just please don’t fucking love me.”

  She buries her face in my shoulder to ride out the rest of her orgasm and I’m not far behind. I can’t concentrate on her words with her pussy pulsing around me and her moans humming in my ear as she tries not to wake the boy across the hall.

  Fuck, this is perfect. It’s the most vanilla I’ve ever had and it’s by far one of the top three times I’ve ever had sex. All three involving Megan, and all three a close tie for first place.

  She’s fucking perfect.

  And I’m not supposed to feel like this for her.

  Just Please don’t fucking love me.

  Well too fucking late, Ms. Porter. If shit wasn’t fucked before those words came out of her mouth, it sure is now.

  We lay in bed in a heap of sweat and heavy breathing for what feels like hours. I’m comfortable here with her. I’ve never even considered having another person to share my life with, but this feels so real it makes me want it with her even though it’s the last thing I need.

  When she dropped off the kid today, I have to admit, I was pissed. A kid? I don’t do kids, especially ones I kind of hate for still being around and not dead like he should be. About three hours of making him laugh and smile though, have turned me into putty in his fucking tiny hands. He’s so innocent. I don’t remember a time in my life when I felt that carefree and happy about things. Even knowing he’s never going to see his mom again, he’s still a happy go lucky kid that I can’t help but smile around.

  What the hell has this tiny community done to me?! It’s turned me into a caring, feeling, loving being that wants more to life than an expensive car and nice clothes. And the only person I want to do that with just told me I’m not allowed to love her.

  Well fuck that.

  “I need to get up and go home, Lucas. I’m tired.” She groans when she tries to move but my body weight wrapped around her isn’t making it easy, and she’s so tired she can barely stay awake for the struggle to get up. “Come on, I have to,” she starts, then yawns. “I need to go to sleep.” Whether she means to or not, her eyes close and she curls into me. “I just need to go home and go to bed,” she mumbles into my chest and within three minutes is passed out and snoring lightly in my arms.

  I lay here awake the rest of the night, caressing her hair, daydreaming about shit I shouldn’t be, and when the sun just starts to brighten the morning sky, I hear the wails from the room across the hall. Megan’s eyes pop open but before she gets out of bed, I kiss her forehead. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be enjoying this feeling, but I am and it borderline pisses me off that I’ve let myself fall like this.

  “I got him,” I say walking toward the door.

  She’s fast asleep again, alone in the massive bed, sexy as ever and I’m tending to a kid like this family has become our life.

  One fucked up life.

  I get downstairs with Bronson and notice he’s taken to me rather quickly and I can’t say I hate it. He’s a good kid. He’s not annoying like I thought he’d be. It’s as if he’s had to fend for himself a lot in his little life, so he’s never nagging or bothering me for shit.

  About an hour after I’ve fed him first breakfast, I hear Megan coming down the stairs.

  “Hey.” I grin bringing a cup of coffee over to her.

  She scowls at me and looks at the black liquid in the cup like it’s poison. “I don’t drink coffee,” she mutters walking around me and upon seeing Bronson she scowls.

  I almost jump into protective mode over the kid because even if she doesn’t like kids, she wanted him around and it seems remembering he’s here has pissed her off. But then she makes this noise.

  “Pink is not your color, little guy!” She starts to laugh, kissing his head. When she looks over and grins at me there’s a youthful look on her face. She looks more her age, actually happy and even with a giggle she says, “Do you have tea?”

  “I think so.” I hope so, at least.

  I feel like a dick for not knowing that she doesn’t drink coffee but I fucking shouldn’t. This is the beginning of a new relationship between us. One I never thought would come.

  Rummaging through the cabinets, I find a box of tea that was probably left from the Milkeys. Fuck it.

  “Earl Grey or some weird shit that I can’t pronounce?” I yell from the kitchen.

  She peeks her head around the corner, eyebrows raised and a smirk on her face. “What is the weird tea?” She walks over to me and bumps me with her hip. “Hojicha.” Pushing the box back into my hand she heads back for the living room and says, “I’ll take that. Follow the directions.”

  This whole routine, as random and pieced together as it is, feels so fucking right with her. I know it has to end though. Soon.

  After a quick breakfast for us and second breakfast for Bronson, we head into the living room. I brought over my XBox once I realized that I’d be here, alone, for a while. There’s only so much I can stalk her without my eyes wanting to bleed from boredom. I love her, but she’s definitely not the most interesting person I’ve met. We turn on some kid’s shit that Bronson made me buy and watch him enjoy kicking our asses in it. It’s a racing game I think… I’m not really sure what we’re doing. I’m too busy staring at her sitting cross-legged on the couch next to him, smiling and laughing like this whole charade is real. I don’t know her well, but I can bet she’s never had this experience in her life and it’s sad, but I can’t say I have either.

  None of this is real though. It’s not her kid, this isn’t our house, and she doesn’t even know who the fuck I really am. Hell, I’m even starting to lose myself in her.

  For lunch Bronson picks hotdogs and mac and cheese. Big surprise, and even though Megan tried putting her foot down and forcing ‘real food’, the boys won and celebrated with root beer floats too. I might be spoiling him, but he’s not my kid so I won’t have to deal with the fallout.

  By the time lunch is over, Bronson is tired and ready for a nap. He’s rubbing his eyes and sitting on my lap, snuggling into me.

  “Hey, how about we get you upstairs into bed for a little shut eye so we can give your muscles time to grow.”

  “Luke.” Megan grabs my arm when I go to stand. “We need to go home. I need to go home. I haven’t been home at all today and I have the dinner social for the month to plan. And I’m sure you have… your job to do. Whatever that is.” She stands and grabs Bronson from me. “What is that again?” She cocks an eyebrow but is wearing the smirk that’s been on her face all day.

  I’ve been watching this girl for weeks and haven’t seen her smile this much. I hate that it has to do with me being here. She’s going to be crushed when she finds out the truth and I have to end her.

  “I guess I need to get my run in.” I grin back at her, keeping up the facade and enjoying the scowl that crosses her face when I avoid answering her question once again.

  She leans in and actually kisses me without me initiating it first. “Say bye to Lucas. And thank you.” She shoves Bronson at me and I take the kid for a tight hug. “Thanks for breakfast.” Glancing back at me as she opens the front door, she smiles and says, “Lunch too.”

  ***

  I spend the next five days pretending we’re this little unit that we both know we aren’t. Every time I watch her with Bronson, my heart grows a lit
tle more for her and that fucking kid. I’m not certain if she’s found a place for him, and every time the phone rings or there’s a knock on the door I know she freaks out that it’s Jasper and he’s going to find out. She’s stressed. I can see it in her eyes when we make eye contact. I wish I could just hide her away and keep her from the truth that’s going to blow through her life pretty soon, but even I’m not that nice of a guy.

  Tonight we grilled out at her house and caught crickets in the backyard. Tonight we made love under the stars after Bronson fell asleep in his room. Tonight I fell a little more in love with her and regretted every fucking second of it. I should have stuck with the fucked up sex, bloodshed and all, just a means to get my dick wet. But now we’re staring into each other’s eyes and holding each other like the world is crumbling around us.

  I haven’t even been home for ten minutes before the slamming on the door interrupts my thoughts. Megan doesn’t slam on the door and no one else in this neighborhood is strong enough to hit that hard. That can only mean that the person on the other side of this door is someone I’d rather not deal with right now.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I look at Jasper through the screen door and he glares back at me. I see the drunken… or drugged expression on his face and roll my eyes.

  Motherfucking idiot.

  “Are you going to fucking let me in or not?” There’s no ‘hello’ and no ‘good to see you’ this time. He’s pissed. About what, I don’t know. I can only imagine, though.

  “What do you want, Jasper?” I sigh and sit across the room from him.

  He looks worn down, at least ten years older than he should. He’s pacing the room, unable to stand still for even a second.

  “I have a very large issue. I need it taken care of tonight.” His bloodshot eyes find mine and I get the chills from the coldness in his voice. I raise my eyebrow at him in question, waiting for more information. “Like right fucking now!” he bellows, hitting the doorframe to the hallway. “I need this fixed now, Lucas! Do you hear me?!”