Invasion (27 page)

In our time as one I’ve become Carly. My soul shadows her all day, my spirit strokes her presence, my body’s found home.

Home, jesus I’ve never had one, not since enlisting. Home isn’t an address, it’s not where I hide my secrets, it’s this, this feasting on sex and lust and highs and torment, the blood bond between twisted lovers sealed with savage orgasms.

Holding her face between my hands I wilt to my sweet siren, lips melting, tongues fucking, breathing her in, tasting her hunger, knowing there will never be enough. We belong as one, to be inside each other, these bones and bodies come between us, they prevent us from the depth we crave, the merging of all we are, condensed like matter in a black hole until not even light can uncouple us. They’re too much and I want to peel her muscles off her bones to get to her marrow, to hold her beating heart in my hands and clutch it to my ear, knowing there is no ocean in Carly, there’s an abyss with a pulse.

If I could spare her the agony, if there was another way, I’d snatch it up and deploy it. This is a dead end. It’s called a dead end for a reason. We’ve got no escape, no alternative, we’re out of options and choices. Well, I am.

This is merciful and I will love her to death. I will make it sweet and tender and perfect, so she laments into my kisses and her breath expires into my ear when I’m pressed so tightly to her cheek that our temples throb with euphoria and anguish.

She will end on a high.

She’s climbing me, legs squeezing my hips, petite feet crossed for grip on my tush, writhing her saucy sex into my groin while holding for dear life to my neck, using me as her anchor while the storm breaches from her pneuma. She’s cuddling and nibbling and sucking and bruising, then licking and softly blessing the skin she just brutalized, hurting me with love, loving me with hurt.

Panting, nails piercing my nape, her boobs are squashed up to the hard planes of my body, so tight her little heart is drilling thrash metal into my chest, and I can smell how ripe her desire is. Danger makes her wet, pain makes her cum, she’ll never have an explosion like the one we’re tunneling to.

The savage desperation in my babe humbles me, twists my purpose to hers, and I abandon the immediate agenda - to give her an extra smile, an extra hour. We were born to die, now we dance.

Clutching her glutes in my hands I possessively squeeze the plump firmness, angling us down so she’s on the rug, shoulders supporting her weight while her cunt cradles my crotch, my knees bracing us both on the floor. Fumbling with my zipper I haul out engorged agony without losing the jeans, oversensitive with the aching urge to plunder her pussy until she’s numb, shoving up her skirt and sliding into that socket weeping with want.

Her hips tilt with every thrust, meeting me until we’re colliding and slamming in crazed delirium, my razored breath sawing out with feverish ecstasy, the nirvana of her perfect pussy subliminally angelic. It coats and clutches and curdles and caresses, plucking a pleasurable pop from the ridge around my cock, honed muscles clamping my shaft and stroking the velvet skin back and forth while her teeth cut my shoulder, fingernails clawing through my skin.

You bleed for me, I bleed for you. We’re fucking perfect.

Gripping her face I squeeze her mouth wide, drooling spit into her cavity in an oral parody of cum, her eyes open and worshipping me, a giggle gurgling from her throat while she heaves breathlessly, the slapping of our bodies a metronome for rapture.

Clamping her jaw locked open I hook my fingers in, ramming her head to the rug, finger fucking between her lips, feeling the silken membrane in her mouth - and around my wood, the simultaneous stimulation almost undoing me, so I hammer her clit with endless grinds, slaloming in and out of her, riding the wet hole with my mind in a furnace, burning with need, perspiration striating my skin, effort and exertion claiming my body when she goes into seizure, squealing climax into the cabin, her punishing nails unhooking from my shoulders, slipping to my triceps where hands curl to caress tenderness over bulging biceps, severing the minuscule cobweb I was dangling from while waiting for her release.

Roaring I bend and explode, rapid fire piercing her womb with the essence of my being, pouring my regret and love and adoration so deep, to bury away where life waits in dormant hope.

She’s the casket where I write my dreams on the inside of the pussy pink satin padding, coating wishes written in the language of submission, with aura watermarks and semen for ink, she’s the diary where all my secrets hide, every hope I ever held for life; they will die with her, buried forever, unseen, unread, unknown.

Unfulfilled.

Bowed over her I press my forehead to hers, my eyes closed, shutting out the truth that this tiny woman has put me on a pedestal and I’m about to curtail her longevity. A sob rattles my chest but I ram it down, quivering in the aftermath of insane rutting. I shift just enough to harness her neck, squeezing the slender column in my hold, balancing on an elbow planted next to her head.

She laughs salaciously, sultry and sexy, rubbing herself on my embedded groin, subconsciously swaying to a tune designed in heaven for when we meet, skin to skin, mind to mind, dearth to dearth. She cranes her neck deeper into my palm, harshly pressing my love-line to her throat, cutting her breath in the magician’s act of life and death, the illusion forever cushioned between us.

Indulging her fetish I clamp harder, so hard it should bruise her windpipe, and I stare now at the beauty in my grasp, soul wings fluttering on an ethereal breeze she rides so well, flirting with danger, teasing the reaper.

I can’t help it, I count every time we do this, knowing after sixty seconds we risk brain damage; I always let her breathe at the count of forty-five seconds.

Thirty-four, thirty-five … keeping time with the trauma I luxuriate in her body, in the way her rhapsody stutters an endless constriction on my cock, loose tight loose tight loose tight, hot and insulating, milking a multiple orgasm from my overworked muscle, enslaved to her, worshipping her, where it burrows into the crypt because she is my church and I use her to pray. She is my temple of torture.

The sepulcher of the seraph, my Carly, my goddess.

Rebellious tears baptize my eyes when my heart fissures and ruptures. Heartbreak is real, it’s a shaft impaling the chest like a vampiric exorcism, like a detonation of the spirit sending spatter through every membrane and tissue in my chest, splattering and coating my ribs.

How do I kill you? How can I take your life when I live through you?

How do I hurt the one woman I can’t breathe without?

She’s the morphine for my malady.

This is mercy, I chant the mantra, this time not releasing my hold on her neck. Tears run from my eyes and into hers when she starts to panic, her eyes bulging, her pale skin morphing to pressured and congested.

Clutching her to me, crying my heart out, I wish I could keep her. I wish none of this was necessary. In a perfect world, maybe, but this one is too corrupt. They’ll take the only one I’d truly die for, and subject her to the karma I earned.

Little legs flail, nails claw and rupture my skin, but still I hold her neck, not giving her air, feeling the spasm around my cock when she goes into organ failure.

Arching my neck I howl my anguish to the heavens. I’ve killed for god and country and queen, but never for love. Jesus Christ it hurts to murder for love.

It slays all that I am, I’m dying while she does.

The hoarse holler of endless torment is me screaming for her life, screaming for justice, and then I burrow my face in her shoulder, and cry. My mind fractures and splits when she stops struggling. When the only way to be free to love her, is now.

Knowing my death brings peace and an end to political corruption, I bellow with emotional anguish, the loss of her spirit in her eyes acute, the end insufferable. Mingling our blood and tears, still deep inside her, I hope I keep the stiffy when I die.

Let them find us like this.

Lost to love.

Dead in it.

This is love.

She’s the one I would die for.

She’s the one I
will
die for.

She’s the one who’ll set the whole world free. When I die the information automatically goes public, emailed to millions of news agencies across the globe.

This one act will bring peace.

The final bell in an age old grudge match rings when the bullet escapes the chamber, through my palate, lodged in the middle of my brain.

Sometimes love wears a black cloak.

Love has integrity.

Love will save you from hardship and pain.

True love, is sacrifice.

~
The End
~

Maybe it’s not about the happy ending.

Maybe it’s about the story.

~ Anonymous

Mary’s Acknowledgements

To Poppet, thank you from the bottom of my gracious, humble heart. You're one of the most gifted, prolific writers and I consider myself lucky to have such an opportunity to work on this novel with you. It means so much to me. Writing Invasion was a spectacular experience and one to never be forgotten.

To my hea
rt, my soul, my world... my sons Cruz and Lincoln. You've opened my heart to a love I couldn't have ever grasped before. You have made me a better person. I love you more than you'll ever know. May you always follow your dreams no matter what the world thinks. Know that I, your mother, will want you to live by carpe diem.

Domingo
, my husband, my rock, warrior, and soulmate. We were meant to be together, and I couldn't be more grateful that summer night when I met you and you made me realize love was out there. I never thought I'd have a man love me, but you've given me a beautiful life, fairytale and all. I love you to the moon and back.

To my mother,LeeAnn, the strongest person I know. You've endured so much, but loved even more. I strive to have your courage, strength, knowledge, and poise. I hope I make you proud. I love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the flowers in the fields.

To Cat, my sweet, intelligent, driven big sister. One day I will tell your story when both of our hearts are ready. Until then, it's wine nights and sushi. I love you! You're a diamond in the rough, a kindred spirit that I'm honored to call my sister.

To
John
, my big brother; you stepped into the father role as a teen. You didn't have to, but you did. Our special bond will never be forgotten. I hope you're as proud of me as I am you. Love you.

To
Cecily
, my Thelma. You're my best friend. It really is that simple. You know what I'm thinking before I say it. You've been there. Since. Day. One. Thousands of miles, dozens of book signings and novels later, you've stayed. I want to plainly say this; have your fairytale, the happily-ever-after people never believe in, bask in it, because you deserve every moment. You're a beautiful person, inside and out. You deserve the world. I love you!

Kelly
, lover of the original Sorrow Series. You have followed everything I have written, despite its darkness, since the very beginning along with Cecily. Your continued support, friendship, and encouragement means the world to me. We still need a girls weekend!

To
Julianne
, I could go on and on about our friendship. It goes beyond the book world. You've given me hours of conversations, laughs, sane moments, and bland talk on the phone. I'm so glad we have planted the seed of lifelong friendship. You're a one-in-a-million kind of gal, and I'm glad we've become great friends.

To Di
, her black heart fell in love with my stories (well, maybe not the first one as much as the others). Still, we connected instantly, our love for literature of all types a common interest. Di, thank you for supporting me, exposing my stories to your blog and following, but most importantly, your friendship. You make me laugh, your persona is
contagious. You're a gem and I'm lucky to have you as a friend.

To Kellie
, my PA/PR. You've been by my side since Gwen. You listen to my fears, state the realities, and tell me to follow my dreams no matter how crazy they may seem. Thank you for being in my corner.

To my readers, I wouldn't be where I am without you. You have formed a bond with my stories, a connection to a character, a love for my style... whatever the case, thank you. A million thank yous would never suffice. You've given me a dream I never thought attainable. You make my heart happy and full. Cheers to many more novels.

I could spend thousands of words thanking those who deserve it, many whom warrant praise and accolade, however they all know who they are. Simply, I will end with one statement.

Thank you to those in my life who have stayed.

Carpe diem.

Poppet’s Acknowledgements

Thank you so much to Mary E. Palmerin for agreeing to write this novel with me. This was an amazing, bonding experience, and one I will treasure.

Thank you also to my beta readers and proofreaders, especially TL, KY, and ED. Your honesty and swift feedback made the world of difference to the finished product. You’ve got my back and I love you, cherish you, and can’t imagine my life without your friendship.

Thank you to Mary (again), for pimping me so hard in TS, because if you hadn’t I’d never have known that you loved my work, and I’d never have approached you. I feel like this was meant to be and I’m so excited by this novel that we created. We work so well together, complimenting each other, that I feel truly blessed that our paths crossed. Thank you, for everything.

Special mention: Thank you to Jamie, Charlie, Philomena, Di, Rachelle, Ashleigh, Thai, Angie, Antoinette, Tracey, Claire, and the Poppeteers, you ladies rock my world and every day I’m grateful for you. Thank you!

* Special note: In all of my works deities are given lowercase. For the reasons for this please refer to my novel The Nephilim Cartel.