Taking the Fall: The Complete Series (Taking the Fall #1-4)(2)

After my mother disappeared, my father turned as cold as she had been. I had always been a silly child who just got in my mother’s way. She was too busy going to events and maintaining an image to devote any time or attention to me. I can still remember her offhand comments about my weight and frenzied red hair. I just always seemed to be in her way—a disappointing nuisance. Now my father can barely look at me. Does my father love me? Yes, I believe so. Family is everything to him. But does he show it? Can I feel it? Not anymore. Now I’m put away on a shelf, having to sneak away to come here.

“I haven’t felt a woman’s body in years, can’t blame a man for taking opportunities as they arise,” he says cockily as the guards slowly let him up. He drops down into a metal chair. He seems completely unfazed by what has just happened. I guess that was all it was to him—a man needing a fix. He didn’t possess my mouth, my soul for those few moments because he needed to touch me. No one touches me.

“I see I don’t have anyone now. Looks like I can go,” I say flatly, all emotion leaching from my voice. Hell, if no one else wants to show me any tenderness, why should I give any?

“Good. Get gone,” he snarls through clenched teeth, but I see his eyes soften for an instant before being replaced by his usual stoniness. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself and it was never there.

Pulling the picture I have from my pocket, I let it drop to the floor and I take one last look at the man I’ve been thinking about every night for the past four years. I don’t want the reminder of him anymore if he doesn’t want me.

I’m done living in a world that seems to feel nothing while I feel everything.

I have the quarter million I took from Daddy’s safe before I gave the guards the slip. I’m starting my life over, a life with no more holes in it, a life where I can find people who want to feel with me.

I turn to make my way to leave. Behind me I hear Carter rise from his chair, the metal scratching across the concrete floor. Opening the door to leave, I toss my final words over my shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Carter. No one will be seeing me around anymore.” The door slams behind me and I hear all hell break loose on the other side.

I square my shoulders and keep on walking. I only have one feeling in my heart now.

Freedom.





LAYLA


Four years later

Running a hand over my breast, I play with my hardening nipple through my thin baby tee. I think back to the dirty novel I’d been reading before I went to bed. I’m turned on and I need release. In the book the hero had been aggressive and demanding, the way Carter always was. No, not Carter, never Carter. Pushing him to the back of my mind, I try to imagine Justin as the hero of the story. He is my boyfriend, after all; it should be his face I’m picturing.

He pushed her up against the wall, his front to her back. He was sliding his hand under her skirt, taking what was his. Sliding my own hand between my thighs and under my white silk panties, I push my lips apart and stroke my clit. I work my hips against my fingers and try to picture Justin taking me with such force. The most force he’s ever exercised in our relationship is when we try to pick a wine to pair with dinner. Never mind that I hate wine and all the fancy restaurants he insists I go to.

Getting nowhere with my fantasy of Justin, Carter’s face comes to mind again. He never seems to be far away. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to push him out of my mind, doesn’t matter that it’s been four years since I last saw his face, doesn’t matter that I hate him. Just picturing him shoving me up against a wall, flipping up my skirt, ripping my panties away, thrusting into me and growling that I’m his makes me instantly wet.

I can feel the orgasm coming now, or at least I think I do. What with the way my best friend Jeanette describes them, I’m not sure I’ve ever really had one. When she gives me details of her latest fling she makes it sound like having an orgasm is the greatest thing ever. Going from her reports, I think my vagina is broken or at least seriously faulty.

Pulling my hand out of my panties, I glance at the clock and notice I still have ten minutes before I need to get up and get ready for work. I’ll be damned if I lie in bed masturbating to thoughts of Carter having me. He doesn’t want me and I won’t be giving him my orgasm. I would rather go without than get off thinking of him.

I fling the comforter back and flip on the nightstand light before making my way to the closet. My house is a small, two-bedroomed bungalow that sits right on the edge of Reno. I used the cash I took from my father’s safe to buy it. It’s not much but it’s mine. I didn’t want to use all the money I stole in case I have to run again but it’s nice to have a place to call my own. Home.

One thing I’ve loved most about my freedom from my father is a life of my own. I come and go as I please, eat whatever I want and, most importantly, wear what I like. This new-found freedom shows in my closet. Two things I’ll never give up are my dirty books and my shoe collection. I know it sounds silly but my shoes gave me some confidence when I started my new life. I never thought I was unattractive and I love my curves, but Carter took a shot at my self-belief. I’ve always been short at just over five feet and I have to strain my neck to look at most men, so a sexy pair of high heels gives me a boost in every way. I rock my heels as tall as they come because I don’t want to have to look up to a man. Any man.