Having Hope (The Blow Hole Boys Book 4) (13 page)

We were getting on the road at seven, and I knew I needed to sleep, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was Chet and the way he was acting at dinner. We had agreed on a one-time thing, but I couldn’t help but feel a little letdown that he hadn’t come to the room.

He did something to me—changed me—and turned on a light inside me during sex. I’d actually enjoyed being choked. It seemed to intensify my orgasm, making me come so hard it paralyzed me.

He was good in bed.

No.

He was amazing in bed.

I should have known then that one time would never be enough, but I couldn’t take any chances. Already, I found myself thinking about him more. Lying there, I was wondering what he was doing … wondering if he was with another woman or a group of women.

I hated myself for thinking these things, but Chet did that to me. He did that to me five years before, and it was happening again. I knew it would be this way, and still, I’d let it happen. I was weak. I’d always been weak.

Giving up on sleep, I climbed from my bed and turned on the TV. An old episode of
Golden Girls
lit up the screen. We didn’t have a show for a few days, which meant I didn’t need to be well-rested. Good thing, since sleep obviously wasn’t coming for me.

I settled into the comforter and rested my back against the headboard of the bed. Lights from the TV danced around the room, flickering across the walls and taking away the darkness around me.

Finally, my eyes grew heavy, and my body began to relax. Sleep was moving over me, granting me the solace I’d been asking for since I woke up to find Chet gone from my bed.

He’d crept from my bed in the middle of the night, leaving me feeling slightly used and extremely relieved all at once. It was the strangest situation. I wanted him there, but I wanted him gone. It was like I was two different women. One begging for him and the other pushing him away with fear that he’d suddenly remember our night five years ago.

I couldn’t relive the weeks after that night again. I didn’t even want to think about what had happened in the months after I’d left Chet’s room. The pain—the heartache—the death of a young girl … me. Or at least the girl I used to be. She was gone, and all that was left was me.

I could decorate my outer shell with all the color and life I wanted, but inside, I was just black sadness. Thick with memories and emotions I worked every day to forget. When I was with Chet, the inside matched the outside. The blackness became bright, and the memories were chased away into the corners of my mind. That was what he did to me, and that was why he was so addictive.

I jumped when a knock sounded on my door. I was on my toes, creeping across the room to the door, when the second knock sounded. The door was cold against my face when I pressed my eye to the peephole.

Chet stood there. He ran his fingers through his hair in aggravation. He looked like he was in pain, which was the only reason I opened the door … at least, that was what I told myself as I reached out and unlocked it. As soon as I opened the door, his expression changed, and instead of pain, a sexy grin tilted his lips.

My eyes moved over him, taking in his naked chest and wide, thick shoulders. My body responded immediately to him.

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked.

I stepped to the side, giving him space to step into the room. It was then that I realized what I was wearing. A thin Guns-N-Roses T-shirt and a pair of panties. The shirt was long enough to cover me, but it was not like it mattered. He’d already seen everything I had to offer down south anyway.

“What do you want, Chet?” I closed the door behind him and set the lock.

When I turned around, his eyes were on my legs and slowly rising, taking me in and making me feel completely exposed.

“I think you know the answer to that already.” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth raking over his lip rings.

He reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me into him and holding me close in an unexpected move. His arms tightened around me, and his lips moved to my neck sending heated chills over my skin.

“Chet,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond. Instead, his lips moved up over my chin to my lips. I kissed him back, letting him take control of my mouth and move me across the room toward the bed.

The lights from the TV grew brighter, flickering over the bed like a directional beacon.

“I thought we said just once,” I said against his mouth.

He pulled away, and his eyes moved to mine. His grin was devious. “Fuck the rules.” His fingers snagged the elastic waist of my panties, and he began to push them down over my hips. His eyes remained on mine, daring me to stop him. “I wanna be inside you.”

I caught my lips between my teeth to stop my smile. “And what about what I want?”

He pulled back, tugged his pajama bottoms down, revealing his hard cock, and grasped his shaft.

With confusion on his face like he couldn’t imagine a woman not wanting him, he asked, “You don’t want this?”

He pumped himself in his grasp, the tip of his cock growing before my eyes and the piercing at the tip shining in the flickering lights of the TV.

I had to taste him.

I’d thought about doing it over the years, wishing I’d taken the opportunity five years ago. But he was there, and he was offering himself. I planned to take full advantage even though I knew it was the last thing I should do.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, grabbed his cock, and covered the tip with my mouth. His piercing tapped against my back teeth before rubbing the back of my throat. His fingers dove into my hair, fingering the strands as I began to suck him off. I’d never done it before, and I was sure my inexperience showed, but I didn’t care. I wanted to taste him, and he tasted amazing.

His thumb softly skimmed the skin beside my mouth.

“Yes. That feels so fucking good, baby.”

His words pushed me, and I sucked harder, working my hand up and down the shaft the way I’d seen the girls do in the porn movies I’d watched. I must have been doing it right because the sounds he made were perfection.

I could feel his moans between my legs, making me grow wet and turning my clit into a hard, aching pebble.

“Fuck this,” he growled, sliding his cock from my mouth.

He reached down and helped me stand and then he tossed me onto the bed. I loved the way he took control … the way he prowled toward me before climbing over me. His lips skimmed my thigh, before moving over my T-shirt, until he was nibbling my chin and aggressively kissing me.

He roughly pushed my panties down the rest of the way until I was able to kick them from my feet, and the bed shook as he quickly got rid of his pants. He nudged my thighs open with his knee and then he was inside me, taking what he wanted in the fast and rough style I loved.

My nails dug into his naked back, going deeper the harder he fucked me. Lifting my hips, I took all he had to offer. He felt so fucking good, hitting all my most sensitive spots and sending me spiraling before I even had a chance to climb to my climax.

I screamed, begging him to fuck me harder and faster while I came so hard my body began to shake. He didn’t let up, even when his thrusts began pushing me across the bed until my head was once again hanging from the side.

His leaned over me, biting at my erect nipple through my T-shirt until he grew aggravated with the fabric in his way.

“Fuck this.” His body slowed. “I want you naked.”

He reached between us and grabbed at the hem of my shirt. “I want to suck your tits while I fuck you.”

He was so blunt … so sure about what he wanted, and it was fucking hot. I didn’t usually like giving up control of any aspect of my life, but when it came to having sex with Chet, his control made me feel safe. It made me hot—begging for more of his control—more of his body.

He lifted my shirt and ripped it over my head. His eyes landed on my chest, taking in my hard, erect nipples as his hand cupped my left breast. And then as if he’d been struck by lightning, he jerked and everything stopped.

He slid from my body and reached over, turning on the bedside lamp and illuminating the space around us. His eyes moved over my chest, wide and wild, as if he’d just discovered one of life’s great mysteries. I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but the mood around us shifted.

His eyes moved from my chest and up my neck and over my chin before clashing with my own. He stared into my eyes, confusion tugging at his dark brows.

“It’s you,” he said in awe.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

Suddenly, I was worried that maybe Chet was slipping into the same zone he’d been in, in the hotel hallway in Vegas.

The confusion.

The worry.

All the emotions that moved over his features were similar to those of the night before.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s you. You’re her.” He wasn’t making any sense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chet.”

And I didn’t.

Again, his eyes moved from mine and down over my chest.

“The blackbird tattoo,” he mumbled. “It’s different now, but that’s definitely it.”

I looked down at the tiny blackbird I had tatted on the space between my shoulder and the top of my right breast. I’d gotten it done years before, only weeks before my night with Chet. It marked the beginning of my rebellion—the beginning of the girl I’d become. It was a beacon for me, and I loved it.

I’d changed it a little over the years, adding the date of the worst day of my life beneath it, shading some rainbow coloring to the tips of the wings. But essentially, it had stayed mostly the same. 

“What about it?” I asked, confused.

“It was you that night,” he said, his eyes once again moving to mine. “You left. Why did you leave?”

And just like that, the room crumbled all around me.

No.

The entire hotel—the entire city of Houston—all crumbled, as the one thing I silently hoped wouldn’t happen happened.

Chet was slowly remembering me.

He was remembering our night together all those years ago, and soon, he would have a ton of questions. Questions I wasn’t sure I could answer.

I should have been happy that he remembered. I should have been glad that I wasn’t just another woman he had fucked and forgotten, but I’d grown accustomed to him not remembering. I was comfortable with him because of my anonymity, but I no longer had that.

“Get off me,” I barked, pushing at his chest until he lifted his body from mine and moved to my side.

“Hope?”

His confusion continued as he climbed from the bed and tugged his pants back on. His eyes never left my face. I could feel his gaze digging into my flesh, judging me, hating me. 

I didn’t look at him. Instead, I collected my T-shirt and panties and began to dress. I wanted him out of my room. I couldn’t breathe with him there.

“Leave.”

He crossed his arms, his expression changing from confused to angry.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I tugged my underwear over my hips, covering myself and hoping I wouldn’t feel so exposed.

“I said get out of my room!”

“Not until we talk about that night. Not until I get some answers.”

I moved, grabbing a pair of shorts from the top of the dresser and tugging them over my hips.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Then I’ll leave.”

I started toward the door, ready to leave him standing in the middle of my room with all my belongings—all my secrets—but before I could get to the door, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to his chest. His body was hot and hard against mine, reminding me of the pleasure he’d just conjured from my body.

“I took your virginity, Hope. I’ve never done that with any other woman.” His fingers dug into the tops of my arms, holding me in place and keeping me from fleeing.

“You didn’t. It wasn’t me. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

I tugged, his fingers bruising my arms as I tried to get away. He continued as if I hadn’t spoken.