Objective (Bloodlines #2)(31)

“Beautiful… ” His hand paused.

“You want this?” he breathed. Was he serious?

“Yes,” I rasped.

“You sure, baby? After this, there’s no going back.” I sat up. “There's only one thing I need." I placed my hand on his heart. "The rest are just technicalities, Cane.” His torso was heavy on mine. I liked the feel of it. I wrapped my legs around his waist while his kisses worked my ear, neck and collarbone. His fingers toyed between my legs and my groans were drifting into his mouth as he kissed me.

“I need you, baby girl,” he whispered. His thumb put pressure on my clit and my hips bucked again. His hips shifted and I adjusted my legs around his and felt him drive in. I squeaked, trying not to let the pinch bother me. Once he was all the way in he’d stopped and waited.

“Are you alright?” he asked. I nodded my response. He slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. It was amazing. My lips parted, my neck arched and my eyes fluttered closed. His thrusts were driving me towards an orgasm the likes of which I’d never experienced before when he pulled out. My eyes flew open. “Don't stop!”

Suddenly I was flipped on my belly and moving backwards towards the edge of the bed. My feet hit the floor, a palm pressed between my shoulders and I was bent over the mattress. The pads of his fingers squeezed my hips. “Full of surprises!” I gasped playfully. His voice was low and heavy as he held tight to my hips and resumed thrusting. “I want you to feel how good you make me feel.”

I was going to explode. I could feel it coming on hard. He pulled out and flipped me back over, wrapping an arm around my ribs and hoisting me up the bed with him. He entered slowly, taking his time now. Our eyes locked and he started rolling his hips. The buildup was too much. “Cane!” I breathed as my orgasm crashed over me and his tongue traced my collarbone. Five seconds later with my legs tightly holding his hips, he planted his face in my neck, drove deep, and groaned my name. I loved the weight of him on me. We were both panting. I’d had okay self-orgasms before, even what I thought was a good one before, but nothing compared to what just happened.

I turned my face into his neck and kissed him behind the ear while I lightly traced the muscles of his back, feeling elation deep in the joints of my bones. Before my brain caught up with my mouth I whispered, “I love you, Cane.”

His body went stiff. Then he kissed me.

“I love you too, Mags.” Those simple words changed me forever. I would never be the same.



I wake up with an epic hangover and an ache between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together tightly and pray for the sensation to go away because it’s just that, a sensation. No truth behind the feeling at all. Just my body conjuring up old feelings. Muscle memory. It's like I've woken up in bed and he's not here...because he's gone to the bathroom or something. But somehow, I know he's never going come back to bed. If I could just reach over and touch his side of the bed, I would know that it was cold, but I can't. I know I can't have him back but I don't want to wake up in the morning thinking he's still here anymore. But how can I heal? I can feel the details of him, the bits and pieces I never bothered to put into words. And I can feel these extreme moments, even if I don't want to. I put these together, and I get the feel of him, enough to know how much I miss him...and how much I hate the person who took him away. Knowing that person is me - it’s torture. Please, this has to get easier. I will myself to stand up and stumble to the bathroom. After I relieve myself I push my hair from my face and take a good look in the mirror. Hell. I see hell. There is no resemblance to the pretty girl who was brought into this world. There are only broken remnants. Shards. Bits and pieces of Cypress.

I brush my teeth and then shower. In the mirror I line my eyes with thick black eyeliner and blend silver and navy eye shadow across my lids. Taking the crimson red tube from my makeup case, I carefully color in my full lips with the deep colored stain. I sweep a little bronzer across my cheeks and swipe my lashes with mascara and call it good. I run the comb through my hair and twist it up off my back and neck on top of my head and tug on my work shorts, push-up bra and tank-top. It’s time to see Penny.



Penny looks over the brim of her glasses at me and shakes her head slowly.

“Honey, no matter what happened to you, and especially since you won't tell me, I’m left guessing here, but you can't drink yourself into a stupor. It’s not going to make any of it disappear. It’s not going to change history or your reality. I can’t keep giving you chances. You’ve done well for the last year. You’ve picked a handful of fights with customers but quite frankly I’m sure that they had it coming, considering you generally keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself.” She winks at me.

“I know. I know. Penny, please, I need this. Don’t fire me.”

“I’m not firing you, Mags. Just show up for the next seven days, I need to give some of the girls who covered your ass a break…so you’re pickin’ up all their shifts.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes and whine at her. Seven nights on is a lot for anyone but I’ll take it. I thank her profusely and get my ass out to the bar to get everything ready for the night.





Chapter 12





“I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.”- Orson Scott, Ender’s Game