American Goth (30 page)

Paolo rose to his feet so suddenly it was alarming, but I stood my ground as he gave me an enigmatic smile. “A man among men and a woman among…” He licked his teeth. “Well, I’m sure you have your moments. Let’s go, Kenny,” he turned and said. “Leave them to their…discoveries.”

It was the way he said it, so like Old Jones, that made my blood turn to ice and my mixed impressions coalesced into dislike.

“I’m here to check my amp,” I said finally, and that wasn’t a lie—I’d blown a fuse in our last session, and while I’d replaced it then, it wouldn’t be unusual for me to want to fiddle with it. “Why are you guys here?”

“Just thought he’d like to see what sort of setup we have, not be unprepared Sunday,” Kenny answered as they brushed by us, Paolo before him. “Ta!” He waved and Paolo threw one last look over his shoulder before they shut the door behind them.

“What the hell…?” Fran asked as I took off my jacket.

“I don’t know,” I said, and stared at the sofa, as if it could give a clue. Of course, it gave nothing, and I waved Fran over to the kitchen. “Well, at least there’s coffee—want some?” I asked as I moved to the counter. “You can use my mug.”

“Stop.” Fran caught my hand as I reached for the pot. “Don’t. I don’t like him, I don’t trust him, and I wouldn’t drink anything he had anything to do with—you shouldn’t either. Look.”

She pointed with my hand still held in hers at the counter. It could have been sugar, it could have been salt, it could have been the powdered creamer that Kenny was so fond of, but the color and texture was off for all of those things and Fran wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me back to her, even as I stared.

“Paolo wants something from you—and he can’t have it.” The words were said into the light hairs on my neck and the guarding pull became a possessive hold that sent a flash of flame through me as her lips touched down onto the skin beneath them.

Fran proved how well she knew me, knew my body, as one hand unerringly found the button of my pants while the other slid beneath it so her fingers could spread me, and found me hard.

“Baby,” I breathed as she pulled me to her and I craned my head for her lips. My back jarred against her as she leaned against the wall and when my tongue skated over hers, she jerked me off with the same slow strength.

“This…is not his,” she vehemently whispered before she filled me, hard and fast, full and good, all while the firm, slipping grip on my clit as she pushed the hood back and played with my head made me feel like I was fucking her.

“No…it’s not…oh God—I-want-to-fuck-you,” I gasped out, meaning every word of it, the vision of her impaled on my cock so real my fingers wrapped around her wrists, urged her on as she slipped another finger into me, stretching me so fucking good, so…fucking…

“I love that,” she growled into my ear, my hand pushing on hers, pushing her deeper.

When we got home, her tits swayed over my head as we both watched her cunt lower onto my cock, the deep drive that only touched the surface of satisfaction, the weight of her body centered perfectly over my clit as I thrust, she rode, and when she parted her pussy lips so I could see more, the vision of her clit sliding down my dick as it filled her made my own feel like it would explode and I couldn’t help but sit up and reach for her, wedge her fat clit between my fingers, exposing her head so it could ride my shaft.

The sound of her cunt as it sucked on my dick, the clench of her stomach, the hug on my hips, the grip on my shoulders, the curl of her lips…it all combined when I tangled my fingers into the hair against her neck to pull her closer, to reach for the kiss that made everything so complete. It created a haze, a suspended moment of time, the forever hang where the Universe centered, coalesced, became
us
.

I saw things, felt things, knew she caught them too, and when, once again, a face floated through my mind, she gasped, released my hip long enough to press the charms I wore back into my skin, forcing the image bigger, brighter, until it was almost real and I loved them both, knowing it was okay, that this had its own reality, if not in this Universe, then perhaps another.

When she came all I could do was hold her close, tight, kiss her with the all love I had for her and the love I carried with me. The love we shared had part of its root there; we both held someone, the
same
someone, in us, between us, and here or not, we both loved her dearly. And I knew that in loving each other, in a very real way, we honored that too.

Still, deep within her, within me, was the knowledge that as united as we were, I simply could not do what I needed to so long as we were so close to one another. I’d forgotten something basic in my concern for her, something I should have not only thought of, but done immediately. There was no doubt in my mind that Fran was instrumental to who I was, who I would be, and the finding of the key proved it. That she had shed blood for it, even accidentally, Jones’s threat, Paolo’s gaze, all told me quite clearly that she would constantly be in danger, for me, and from me. And…there were no accidents.

I kissed her again as she cried, silent tears that shook her shoulders, even while she still moved on me.

“I don’t—I don’t want…”

I hushed her with a kiss. “I know,” I whispered into her lips, “I know. Me either. But we don’t end Frankie, we don’t,” I assured her as I wrapped my arms around her, shifted us, laid her gently beneath me. “This will always be between us, this you and me, this time…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say, or how to say it, just that I suddenly needed to feel her, all of her, show her in ways that were unmistakable what I knew, that when we said good-bye, it wouldn’t be to what we felt or meant to each other—it was to what we
could
be, together.

It was that possibility, that probability, we would let go of, mutually, with love, understanding fully what we would give up, because there were things in this world larger than both of us, hungry things, needful things, dark and sad things that looked at love and sacrifice as toys, as food. I would not submit her spark or her life to that.

I carefully eased my cock from her and fumbled with the harness, removing it to replace the hardness of my cock with the slick ride of my cunt against hers.

We slipped against each other again, my fingers within her, soothed, comforted, loved by the deep, wet embrace and the pulse under my thumb, the return feel of her within me as she stroked my shaft, the sighs and the kisses, the “I love you” whispered through tears, hers, mine, it didn’t matter through the pound of my heart, the return beat of hers that matched it as she once again roared through me.

In gentle caresses, in careful negotiation, in full awareness of how much we would hurt ourselves and each other, we compromised: we’d be lovers until she returned to the States, but when she did, this aspect of us would end. Of course, we would still be close—we loved each other, and we were bound—but we would be
friends
: we would walk away from the rest of it. We had to. Her distance from me would at least partially ensure her safety and even if she didn’t fully believe that, or wasn’t as concerned about it, she
did
understand me: there were moments I could barely
breathe
when I thought about what could happen. And I now had a very good idea of what already had.

*

In the mornings that followed, I pored through every single one of my father’s books, passed them to Fran when I was done, brought them and my notes to my meetings with Elizabeth, showed them to Cort, made them each sit and tease it apart with me.

There were answers in there, dammit, a puzzle that spanned almost thirty years, and I wanted all eyes on it.

Patterns started to emerge, repeated places, names; unexplained fires, mysterious suicides, unanticipated drug overdoses, and seemingly random disappearances, all tied to certain geographic locations, like the neighborhood around Saint James Hospital in Leeds, or the borough of Brooklyn in New York, or Newark, New Jersey. There were a few other places as well, and in all of them there were spurts of crime, very specific types, that came into fashion, then went out again, ebbing and flowing like the tides.

Two things added to my frustration level as the days went by and my Da’s meticulous notes allowed us to slowly peek into how well the web had been spun.

The first was that Paolo turned out to be an excellent guitarist, and since both Hannah and Kenny liked him, he was in. I bit my tongue on that; perhaps I’d been wrong, perhaps he wouldn’t be so bad after all—even I had to grudgingly admit he did have talent.

The second occurred that night. Fran had crawled down my body, nipping, tasting, teasing, and the promise in her eyes was as stirring as her touch.

“I want to suck on your cock,” she said, her gaze heavy and hot on me, her breath warm on my belly as she fit her shoulders between my legs.

I stretched an arm over to the nightstand, fumbled within, and as I brought everything down by my waist, she caught my hand and what was in them.

“Not that,” she told me with a smile, taking the harness and the toy from me. She placed them to the side, then gently spread my cunt before her. “This…” She blew softly on my exposed clit, and teased me with the very tip of her tongue in a way that made my eyes close even as I couldn’t help the whispered sigh she drew from me—I
loved
the way she did that.

“Watch,” she asked and I forced my eyes open as I sat up on my elbows.

The sight of her tongue as it swirled around my clit, the dip of it inside me, the feel and fit of it that made me groan only to make me do so again when she drew back out to show me how wet I was, turned me on as much as what she was doing.

Fran smiled at me with sensual knowing, a carnal regard that glowed from her eyes when we both watched my clit jump under her skillful mouth. I felt her
everywhere
as the sheets slipped under my fingers and the heat rose through my skin, the intoxicating rush a thrilling flood through me. But when she gently pushed the hood back to expose more than just the head of my hard-on…

“You’re so…fucking…
hard
,” she whispered, then stroked her tongue against the sensitive underside, “I want your cock in my mouth.” She took me between her lips.

“That is so…fucking…
good
…” I managed to choke out as I gulped for air while she licked and sucked and I couldn’t help the surge of my hips against her, the pressure just that much better.

Every now and again I would glance to see the way her mouth moved my cunt, shifted my lips, and when I felt a hand leave my thigh, her body twist between my legs, I knew what she had in mind, what she was going to do when I felt her press the hardness she’d retrieved against me, toying just at the very entrance.

“Oh yes…
please
…” I breathed, the word a drawn-out hiss in the air, wanting that, wanting her to do it to me. “Please…fuck me.”

She did, brilliantly, beautifully, sucking me off, letting me fuck her face as she played the head, just the head, deep enough in me to pop past that point that felt oh-so-fucking good, only to pull back out and repeat the move over and over. It slid so easily in and never fully out in a rhythm that stepped and paced until I was so damn close, so damn hard, so damn ready, wanted her deep and hard.

Holyfucking
everything
… Fran blew my mind with my cock between her lips and mine deep in me when I came, came so hard in her mouth, under her hands and the way she worked the cock inside me. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, I could barely hear anything as she crawled back up to hold me, kiss me, let me savor the taste of my cunt on her tongue as I sucked it.

“You like that, baby?” she asked in that low drawl I loved to hear as she teased her lips against my chin, my throat, my whole body so sensitive I could only take either the lightest of feather strokes or a firm grip on skin because anything else made me jump.

“That was incredible,” I answered when I finally had enough breath to speak and the firm weight of her breast in my hand, her nipple wonderfully hard and edible between my fingers. “I…just…thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she murmured against my mouth before I claimed hers again, eased my leg between hers, felt along the contours of her ribs, the hard muscle under soft flesh of her stomach and the hollow inside her hip where I held her when she rode me, however she rode me, and the soft rise and the fine hairs that were right above—

“We’re going to have to not do this for a few days,” she said, the words a soft sigh as I flit my fingers along the lovely wetness that waited for me.

“What? Why?” That stopped me short “Did I—” In the entire time we’d been together, since we’d started making love, the only thing that had ever, ever, curtailed us from being together was the one night that Fran had suffered through really bad cramps, and the only thing that made her feel better was to feel me snug against her back, my hand warm and light on her belly. Otherwise, we hadn’t—

Fran put her hand over mine, urging me to continue. “No, it’s not you,” she said, her eyes slightly hazy from the light swirl of my fingers on her clit as she moved beneath me, “it’s the ceremony—several days of building the right energy.”

“How many?” I asked, dreading the answer because I didn’t want to lose any of the time we had together. The countdown in my head never stopped and just because I knew it was something we had to do didn’t mean I looked forward to it.