Paradise Fought (Abel) (11 page)

Looking between Elma and me, Thor grunted as he ran a hand over his short hair. His eye was swelling. His lip was split. I straightened, ready for another attack.

“I told you I don’t fight jealous lovers,” he barked at Elma.

“He’s not my lover,” Elma retorted weakly, holding onto the back of the couch. Her voice quivered.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” I growled, ignoring Elma’s words.

Thor laughed without a hint of humor.

“Might want to tell him that,” Thor bit sarcastically at Elma then he turned to me. “Don’t you worry, I won’t be speaking to her ever again.” He pushed past me and headed to the opened door. Pausing, he turned to me with narrowed eyes. “And we’ll be seeing each other soon.” With that parting warning, he left.

“Thor,” Elma whimpered quietly.
Did she really want him?

The front door slammed shut as best it could, and I turned on Elma.

“Is this what you wanted? Is he what you really want?” I stared at her in disbelief. She was holding her t-shirt pressed against her chest, as if covering herself when she wasn’t naked. She stood opposite me, the couch as a division between us while she stared at the closed door.

“Jesus, Elma. Do you even know what he could have done to you? Did you really want what he was going to do?”

Her lip quivered. I turned away. I couldn’t face her if she cried. I took two steps toward the door and stopped. I raised my hands to the frame, taking deep breaths to calm myself. My heart raced between the need to fight and the fear to lose her. I had to calm down. I’d exposed myself too much in this scuffle with Thor. I bent to pick up my glasses and stared at them in my hand. Then another thought occurred to me.

“If you want to fuck someone, Elma, fuck me,” I snapped, as I spun around to face her. My words hung cold in the room as tears slid down her face. My shoulders slumped and my heart dropped to my stomach. I rounded the couch in milliseconds and reached out to embrace her. Expecting her to push me away, I was surprised when she melted into me, letting me hold her. I enveloped her tighter against my chest when she didn’t resist me.

“Shhh,” I spoke quietly. “Don’t cry, my rúnsearc.” Without thought, I kissed the side of her head. Elma sobbed into my chest.

“What were you thinking?” I asked, both in frustration and in concern.

Her head rolled against my chest. Her small hands fisted my shirt. I took the liberty to shift us onto the couch, not letting go of her. I pulled her into my lap and she curled into me.

“Tell me what you were doing,” I pleaded again. She didn’t answer me, just continued to shake her head.

“Here,” I began. “Lie back.” Curling around Elma, I spooned her inside my arms. I pressed every part of me against her, as best I could. Her back to my chest. Her knees folded over mine. My feet touched hers after I kicked off my shoes. My face was buried in her hair.

“It’s okay now, Elma. I got you,” I whispered, but it only seemed to make her cry harder.

She was pressing into me. Her heart-shaped ass firmly tucked against my hard length. I ground forward and sighed heavily. My dick longed to be inside her.

“Oh, Elma.”

Faintly, I heard her call my name.

My hand slipped upward and latched onto one full breast. It was riper than I imagined, firm and desperate. I kneaded it between eager fingers, squeezed hard, and groaned again when I pinched a nipple already taut with excitement under the soft cotton.

“Elma, a rúnsearc.”

The intensity of my name from her lips increased.

My breath hitched. My lower body rutted forward. My hips increased in tempo. I imaged the warmth inside her. My climax was coming. I was almost there. Thoughts of burying myself in her pushed me over the edge. Sweet relief hit. Melting slowly against her back, my body went limp as I nuzzled into her hair.

“Abel.” The tone was firm and my eyes sprang open. My hand still cupped Elma’s breast. My spent dick firmly pressed against her ass and the front of my jeans was warm with moisture.
I’d had a fucking wet dream.
Nothing I’d imagined happened, except it did, in my sleep. Acting out my dream while holding her, in hopes of protecting her, I’d taken advantage of her instead and embarrassed myself in the action.

“Shit,” I whispered as I sat up abruptly. The front of me was damp. My jeans slightly darkened.
Dear God, no,
I thought as I brushed a hand through my hair and shot over her on the couch. Elma sat up to face me, but I kept my back to her.

“Abel?” she questioned with concern, but also a strangled giggle. She was laughing at me.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. My glasses were on the floor and I groped for them. Luck was on my side in one manner, I found them almost instantly. As I heard her questioning tone again, I picked up my shoes which were off to the edge of the couch. This time there was no laughter. Without turning back to her, I walked forward holding my shoes in front of me and exited the apartment. I had no idea if Lindee had returned home and saw Elma and me together, but I’d never be able to face either of them again.

Mortified, I chucked my shoes into the passenger seat of my truck and sped out of the apartment parking lot. My phone binged but I ignored it. My mind raced over the feel of Elma against my body: the curve of her ass and hips, the weight of her breast in my hand, the smell of her hair in my nose. I raced back to my own apartment to find the place empty. Thankful to not embarrass myself further, in front of Creed, I headed straight for the shower. I needed a cold one as my body was ready again to do what it shouldn’t have done to Elma.

After my shower, which was torture, I decided I needed a long run. It wasn’t until I finished, panting hard as I walked the final steps to my place, that I checked my phone.

The missed call had been Cain.

I had barely had the preliminary “Hey” out of my mouth when Cain leapt into his purpose.

“Did you find her?”

“Find who?” I replied instantly, without thinking of his mission.

“Sofie.”

My brain rattled for a moment, searching for recognition.

“The girl,” he growled.

“Right,” I paused, “I haven’t found her.” I hadn’t looked either. I’d had my own troubles, but I didn’t want to share those with my brother. I owed him, in other matters. He did so much for me. He had suffered so much because of me. I had to do better by him.

“Are you even looking?” he snapped, sensing my incompetency. It was why I’d never been trained to fight. My father, and eventually my brother, didn’t believe I had the ability. I wasn’t capable of many things in either of their eyes.

“Yes,” I lied, attempting to make my voice more convincing. “The school has ten thousand people, though.”

“Can’t you do anything?”

The deafening pause proved that I had the upper hand. If he wanted to insult me, he could find the girl himself.

“Look, just go to some student records department or something? Ask for an address? A schedule? Something?”

“Can’t you?” I snapped. The line froze between us again.

“What’s up with you?” Cain finally asked. “You’re never like this.”

“Like what?” I bit again then cursed myself. I was trying to calm my tone.

“Defensive.”

I sighed into the phone.

“It’s nothing.” I paused. “I’ll try harder. I’ll try today.” The weight of the words was heavy. I’d used them so many times as a child. My hardest wasn’t ever hard enough, though. Attempts made today were criticized, as they should have been done the day before. My mind recalled the child I once was. Anger rolled through me at the suppressed memory. Revived negative thoughts energized me. My run was forgotten. I was ready to race again.

“Look,” Cain sighed. “Just do what you can. I know she’s there.” He stopped. “I think she’s there,” he added. “I hope she’s there.” His voice grew softer with each statement. It was completely uncharacteristic of him. He was always hard, but my brother had been suspended for six months from the fight. When he didn’t go to jail, he didn’t return to the circuit directly. Maybe he was growing softer in his time off.

I went to class on Monday, only to collect that week’s assignments. It wasn’t mandatory to be present, but I didn’t want to give up the ten percent grade loss if I wasn’t there. I wore a baseball cap and waited until the last minute to slip into the back of the auditorium. Elma was rows ahead of me with a blonde girl next to her. Thor was nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t even listening to the lecture, which I assumed I could learn from reading the textbook. Elma looked back at me, but I refused to acknowledge her. I kept my head down and my hat low to hide the black eye I’d endured from Thor.

Class was almost over when someone stood early and walked up the aisle. The dark haired guy stopped near my seat.

“Aren’t you Betta?” he asked.

My heart skipped a beat. Without looking up, I answered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, letting my hand come up to shield my face and adjust my cap again to protect the black eye.

“You’re him, right? I saw you Saturday. You’re amazing.”

At the unexpected compliment, I looked up. It was a mistake. By now, class had ended and a few others were behind the Hispanic kid questioning me. When my inquirer saw the black eye, he gasped.

“I knew it was you. You rocked it, man. I love to watch your moves.” He imitated me with some fake punches as the small crowd stalled around him.

“I can’t wait to see you this Saturday. Heard you’re up against Thor next.”

I didn’t know how he could know that before I did. I concerned myself with my opponents religiously, but something must have happened. Another rank shift had occurred, if I was against Thor next. I stood, hoping to escape my new fan. I needed to get out of the room before Elma drew near. Knowing she’d ignore me anyway, I couldn’t face her continued rejection. It was bad enough I’d embarrassed myself with her. I’d made a mistake to help her, and I’d just have to pay the price with my father. Rather, I had hoped to win back the money and essentially recover the fees for Elma with no concern to my father.

The group was growing behind my admirer. I didn’t do well with crowds, and I really didn’t know how to respond to those gathering. I had to think of something. Fast.

“See you Saturday night,” I mumbled, approaching the end of the aisle and hoping to escape. My new dark haired follower fumbled with his backpack and continued to block my exit. He pulled out a pen and a notebook.

“Here. Can I have your autograph? I want to say I knew you before you made it big, and you’re going to be one big fish someday,” he bragged. I had to admit his attention was infectious, but my panic was accelerating. My eyes shifted to the edge of the held up students to find Elma staring in my direction. I quickly looked away and took the man’s pen.

“To Victor,” he said with excitement.

I scribbled his name and mine under it.

Fight. For Love. Betta.

Returning the pen and notebook, Victor took it with haste. His whole face lit up as he showed the crowd around him. At this point, I was able to make my escape by slipping past him with a slap on his back in gratitude. The gathered students would hold Elma at bay for a few minutes.