Love and Other Wicked Games (A Wicked Game Novel) (31 page)

His mouth and his body hungered for her sweetness so he followed the length of her tender thighs up to the heart of her pleasure. She gasped as the coolness of him came down on her. After a moment she stirred, confused, but he silently used his mouth to show her how much she wanted this to happen. He moved against her with long smooth licks, up and down, the tip of his tongue beating out a rhythm against the essence of her womanhood, while his fingers parted the wetness at her cleft. So sweet and so wonderful. He ran his tongue along her faster, wanting more. Needing more. Tasting. Savoring.

A soft whimper escaped her lips. She arched her back slightly, pressing her hips into him with a tentative motion. God, he loved the feel of her against him and in his mouth, and he loved her reactions even more. To know that he was responsible for such exquisite bliss. He responded by latching his mouth onto the swollen area he had been pleasuring with the tip of his tongue. He sucked at it softly, occasionally widening his range to lick along the sweet strait and push his tongue inside, before returning once more to her most sensitive and wonderful area.

Then, as she wound her fingers tightly into his hair, losing herself to the moment and the explosions of white hot sensation, he opened her with his fingers and pushed one inside with a gentle thrust. She gasped, pulling at his hair with tender tugs, lifting her hips to cradle his head, and use the movements of her body to guide him to places she did not know how to explain in any other way.

“Yes,” was all she managed to say.

And so he gave her more. With another gentle thrust he pushed a second finger inside of her and felt the walls contract around him. Her hips shot upward and then slowly rocked back and forth against him. So close. So close. Her innocent flesh was tightening around him in short, sharp, beats.

“You’re almost there. Let me take you there,” he murmured sensing that she was near her end.

He could feel the building heat and energy with each pass of his tongue and each movement of his fingers. He wanted her to feel the all-consuming pleasure of it all as it took her higher and higher, and he wanted her to know that he was the one who had given it to her. Only then would it be his turn. Only then would he make her his. But the feverish desire inside of him was nearing escape and he was about to lose all control. In this moment he absolutely needed her—mind and body. He would pleasure her and bring her to her end in another way, in the joining of their bodies.

But bloody hell was he terrified. There was something so brilliantly complex and exposing about making love to a woman, about actually loving her instead of only loving the act. It was something that Cal had never experienced in his life. It was a frightening and exhilarating duality.

So, it was with great vulnerability that he rose to his knees between her legs and undid the ties of his trousers while she watched with wide, wicked eyes. The clothes fell from his shaking fingers and landed loose around him. He saw her gasp, a quick intake of breath over parted lips. A satisfied warmth pooled in his belly as he leaned slowly over her, brushing his chest against the tips of her breasts. He bent his head to nibble each one, drawing it into a tight pink point, while his feet pushed his trousers down his legs and kicked them onto the floor. At each delicate bite of her breast she let her hands trail down his back. First, fingers brushing and playing with the soft tufts of hair. Then nails scrapping into skin. His hips instinctually pressed down on her.

After one more, deep kiss, with deep massaging of tongues, he righted himself and put his hands underneath her knees. Pulling her against him with a quick jerk, she squealed softly as their bare flesh touched. And then he waited for just a moment, looking into her longing eyes, feeling the wetness of her arousal increase as her softness throbbed against him.

He leaned over her, kissing her once more as she circled her hips beneath him, begging.

“Do you want this?” he breathed over her skin.

She exhaled, shivering, and nodded her head.

“No. You must say it. You must tell me.” He flicked his tongue against her nipple and gave it a quick draw.

“Yes. Yes, I want you—
I need you
—” Her voice shook. “But…”

“But what?” he nibbled at her breast again, his hand jutting between their bodies, grasping himself as he prepared to finally enter her.

“Cal,” she whispered against him, placing her hands on either side of his face. “Cal. Tell me your name. Please. I want to call you by your real name.”

It was like a direct blow to the chest. His body stiffened against her and he sat bolt upright, knowing at once that he’d made a horrible mistake. The severity of the moment came crashing through him as he looked down to her and realized what he’d nearly done. Beautiful, compassionate, trusting Ellie. He’d betrayed her trust once more and he’d still managed to avoid telling her his name. He was immensely ashamed. And unsure what that said about him and this feeling he thought was love.

With wide eyes he backed away from a baffled Ellie and rose from the bed, collecting his trousers. He put them on with measured swiftness and fastened the ties. His heart was pounding and he was having trouble breathing. By the time he found his shirt his head was spinning and he had to sit down to keep from falling over. As he pulled the shirt over his head he looked to Ellie, who was now sitting up in the bed, the sheet pulled up around her body as if for protection. A mix of confusion and hurt was smeared on her face.

“I—I don’t understand. What hap—” she gulped and shook her head. “Did I—”

“No,” Cal said firmly as he finished up with his shirt and put his palms flat on his knees. “Nothing about this is your fault. You understand me?”

She slowly shook her head up and down but it was clear she was still very confused, as she should be.

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I told you I don’t need—”

“No,” he said, holding up his hand to silence her. “I’m sorry but this is too important for you not to know. I should have told you so long ago but I was afraid. I admit it. And so I lied to you and lied to you
and lied to you…
and then now, I almost…” He motioned his hand in front of his body unable to even say the shameful thing he had almost done. “All without telling you the truth…”

She crossed her arms, hugging the sheet closer to her body. “I know you have secrets. All people do. And secrets are secret for a reason. What’s it about this particular secret that’s so important you feel you must tell me, even though you’re afraid it will make me want to leave you?”

“Because… because…” His voice and his body were shaking and so he paused with closed eyes, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. It didn’t work. But he couldn’t keep this secret from her any longer. He had to tell her. Now or never. “Because it’s the truth about who I really am. You need to know who I really am. You deserve to.”

She pulled her corset back around her body, her expression level. “But I do know who you are.”

“Maybe. Perhaps. But there’s still something very important that you must know.”

“Fine then.” She finished fastening her corset and pulled the bodice of her dress back up, slipping her shoulders inside. “Who are you Cal?”

He was afraid to see her face once he said the words but he forced himself to look at her. “I am the—that’s to say that my full nam—”

From somewhere outside of the room an indiscernible yell cut through the air. Cal’s head shot in the direction of the door and then back to Ellie, whose face shifted with confusion.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” Cal stood up and walked towards the door but before he even reached it the single indiscernible yell became a multitude of shouts and commotion. Loud thumps and crashes rang through the air as if heavy objects were being thrown around somewhere down in the courtyard. Then there was more yelling, louder now, and the sound of the building upheaval was soon overlaid with the sharp echo of shattering glass. A succession of rapid knocks struck at his door just as Cal reached for the handle.

“Fight! Fight!” someone yelled from the other side. “Hurry up! Downstairs!”

Cal looked back to Ellie who now stood upright with fear. “Oh, no. What do we do? Who’s fighting?”

“I’m not sure,” Cal said, answering both questions. His hand hesitated on the door handle as he decided what to do.

Hell.
It seemed the universe was against him after all but he didn’t have time to curse it now, as much as he wanted to. First he needed to figure out what to do with Ellie to keep her safe. He cracked the door open just a sliver and peered outside into the twilight. Several people ran past him on the balcony heading in the direction of the staircase on the right, bidding those behind them to come along.

From this spot he could see a large portion of the courtyard below and see the cause of all the commotion. There was a crowd of at least fifty people, maybe more, just left of the center pushing and punching. A clear divide separated the two groups down the middle but that line was becoming less distinct by the second as people from either side lunged at one another, throwing fists. Voices were calling out in the crowd and Cal strained his ears to hear.

“Black Sheep! Knobsticks! Traitors! Bloody bastards!”

“I’m just trying to feed my family!”

“You’re all traitors! Bloody, bastard traitors!”

“Oh, hell.” Cal shut the door and pressed his forehead against the worn wood.

“What is it?” Ellie came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder with careful judgment.

He turned around to face her, not even flinching from her touch and said, “Strike breakers.”

“Strike breakers?”

“They’re the ones that break ties with the unions and work during the strikes. It keeps the factories and mills going and essentially invalidates the usefulness of a strike.”

“Why would someone do that?”

“Why does anyone do anything? All our choices are judgment calls in the end and sometimes decisions aren’t so clear cut. It can be hard. But that’s just life. The strike breakers are just doing what they think is best for their families but the other union members don’t see it that way.”

“Oh.” Ellie crossed her arms. “So what? We just wait it out?”

Cal shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“But they’re just fighting with each other. We have no part in this fight so why should we be worried?

“A fight like this can easily turn into an unruly mob. Soon everyone is so caught up in the fighting and the yelling that they forget what it was all about to begin with… One person loses their senses and before you know it, everyone has and then we’re all in danger whether we have anything to do with it or not…”

“Oh…”

“Yes… Oh…”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“I guess I’m going to have to get you out of here. The last thing we want is to be trapped upstairs with nowhere to go should this whole fight go south.”

“Alright.” Ellie set her shoulders. “Just tell me what to do.”

“The people are fighting off towards the back of the courtyard, to the left of our room and away from the stairs. So we’ll leave the room and make for the stairs… and then we’ll do what we do so well.”

“What’s that?”

“Run.”

Cal smiled softly remembering their first meetings and just how much she had made his heart flutter. She returned his nervous smile and he knew that she was remembering the exact same thing. He wanted to wrap his arms around her now, holding her to him and never let her go. The best memories of his life started when he met her, but that was probably because his life started when he met her. He prayed to everything in the universe that he’d still have a chance to salvage this even after today’s betrayal. It was probably impossible. But first he had to see her safe.

“Now give me your hand,” he said holding his out. She reached to him and took hold, braiding her fingers into his. “And whatever you do, don’t let go.”

***

Ellie’s eyes flickered open and she sat up, rubbing her head.

“What happened?” she asked with a low dazed voice.

From the other side of his room Cal spun around to see her frowning and massaging her temples. Relief rippled through him in warm currents.
Thank God.
Cal desperately wanted to go to Ellie and hug her, never letting her go but he held back that dangerous urge and instead motioned to Caitlin, the mother Ellie had met at the first rally, to go back to Ellie and look her over.

“What do you remember, dear?” Caitlin asked as she sat down next to Ellie. She dabbed a rag back into the bowl of warm water and then patted it at Ellie’s forehead.

Ellie sucked her teeth in at the sting, then put her hand to her forehead where her fingers discovered the wound.

“You’re lucky. It’s just a small cut, dear. But you did hit your head hard enough to black out for a bit.”

Ellie’s eyes opened wide as she began to put the pieces together. “Black out? What happened? The last thing I remember—” she furrowed her brow and then looked to Cal for help. “—we were upstairs in your room and there was a fight and you were going to help me get downstairs and outside and you said something to me. Told me not to do…something…”

Cal nodded his head once, curtly, but he didn’t say anything. He hated everything about himself right now. He couldn’t even stand the sound of his own voice so there was no way on this earth that he was going to subject her to it. He’d thought that once she woke up he might feel better but that was just another lie he’d told himself to hide from the truth. Now that she actually was awake and he could see the fear and confusion and pain in her eyes he felt even worse.

He’d hurt her. Again. And he felt like a monster.

The last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her and now he’d hurt her in every way possible. He’d lied to her, he’d betrayed her trust, and now he’d led her straight into the lion’s den where she’d nearly been eaten alive. Yes. She was very lucky that a bump on the head was all that she’d suffered.

And if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d put her in danger from the very beginning and that he’d lied to her about everything, he’d done it all for the very selfish reason that he wanted to see her again. He’d been using her from the moment he kissed her that day in the market and he’d never stopped. And what sort of man did that to a woman he cared about? To someone he loved?