Montaine (8 page)

He paused and kicked the
ground with his shoe. His fists clenched, the muscles and tendons visibly
shifting under the skin.

“She was in the woods
just off the highway,” he continued. “She’d been beaten, strangled, and dumped
in a trash bag. I knew Peter had killed her. Everyone knew Peter had killed
her. But Peter’s father happened to be a very powerful state senator, and his
political machine made sure that Peter got off scot-free. A lack of evidence,
the police said. They concocted some story about a traveling vagrant coming
through town, killing Rosie, and then disappearing into the mist. It was
completely ridiculous. There was no justice. I blamed myself. I still do. If I
had intervened, I could have saved her.”

“You can’t blame
yourself, Trent.”

I took one of his fists
in my hand and smoothed the curled fingers, twining them around my own. He
looked searchingly at me, the rain sopping a lick of hair that had flopped over
his forehead.

“There’s more,” he said
in a low, solemn voice. “Months later, after Rosie had been buried and Peter
had been cleared of any responsibility for murdering her, I decided to confront
him. I wanted the truth. One night, Kill and I were out drinking at one of the
local bars. Peter was there. He left alone. It was the middle of the night. We
followed him. I knocked him down and dragged him through the dirt. I grabbed
his throat and demanded that he confess. The bastard laughed in my face. He
told me that Rosie had gotten what she deserved. That’s when I totally lost my
mind. I beat him to within an inch of his life. Kill stopped me. He pulled me
off of Peter while the shithead was still breathing. Then he told me to go home
and wait. I did. The cops never came. Kill took care of it.”

“That’s why you say that
you owe him. He covered for you.”

“Exactly. Peter spent
weeks in a coma. He eventually woke up, but he had no memory of what happened. He
was never quite the same mentally. He dropped out of school. He didn’t know
that I was the one who’d attacked him. Kill was the only one who knew. He still
is the only one who knows. Well, until now.” He squeezed my hand, his blue eyes
trained on mine. “If it wasn’t for him, I would have been a murderer too. Regardless,
if Kill had told the truth, Peter’s family would have ruined me. I’d have gone
to jail. My whole life would have been over before it even started. That’s why
I owe Kill. In a way, he saved my life too.”

“I understand,” I said
softly. “And the four elements – the tattoos – are because of Rosie?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what
you think. It’s not just a memorial. It’s a warning. Rosie was into all of this
New Age stuff. She was always talking about balance in the universe and balance
in the body and soul. When I was pummeling Peter on the cold ground, I completely
lost control of myself. Afterwards, I realized what lurked within me. I had a
capacity for rage that had almost led me to take another man’s life. One more punch,
and I would have done it.”

He paused, as if
uncertain whether to say everything that came next. He closed his eyes, breathed
deeply in and out, and nodded, more to himself than to me.

“It was a rage born of
love. I needed to control it. I started getting the tattoos as a tribute to
Rosie’s spirit. But it was also a reminder to maintain balance within myself,
to never again let my rage take over so completely. I can work out some of my
aggression in the ring, where there are rules to stop me if I go too far. But
mostly, I maintain balance by keeping my feelings in check, by avoiding love.
When I find myself caring too much about a person, I have to step away.”

He bowed his head. The
rain pattered on the marble and granite in soft splashes.

“That’s what I did last
week,” he said, lifting his eyes to mine. “After I kissed you on the rooftop, I
needed to step away, for both of us.”

The thunder crashed close
overhead. The rain soaked into my hair and dress. It ran down Trent’s temples
and chiseled cheekbones as he watched me with a searing intensity. I swallowed
hard. My heart nearly beat out of my chest.

“Do you think that’s what
Rosie would have wanted for you?” I ventured. “She was your friend. She cared
about you. Would she have wanted you to spend your life avoiding love?” My
voice cracked on the word
love
, betraying my surging emotions.

“No, I don’t think that
she would.”

The daytime sky had
turned as dark as dusk. Huge thunderheads blocked out any trace of sun. Peals
of thunder crashed in close succession, one after another. The rain pelted our
bodies in great slanting sheets. The lightning crackled with alarming nearness.

Trent faced me and
stepped forward, one strong hand gripping the sodden fabric around my waist.
Another peal of thunder reverberated in my bones. A flash of lightning split
the heavens.

“I know where we can go,”
he said. He pulled me after him, our shoes slapping through puddles. The wind
tore at my dress, pasting the wet hem around my thighs. We soon found ourselves
on the edges of a pond with a gazebo at one end. We hurriedly skirted the pond
and climbed the gazebo steps, taking shelter from the rain that thumped on the
small roof with the steady rhythm of a drumbeat.

Trent still held onto my
hand. A charged magnetic force flowed between our two bodies. I was elated and
scared at the same time. He ran one hand through his wet hair and stared out
onto the storm-ravaged cemetery. The blackened sky, slashing winds, and chilled
rain falling on cold gravestones made for a poignant scene.

“Why do people always
think graveyards are so romantic?” Trent said, as if musing to himself. “What
is romantic about death?” He turned to me, his eyes luminous in the shadows of
our temporary shelter.

“It’s the thought of what
lies sleeping beneath the grass, I guess.” I paused and searched my brain for
the best way to express what I was thinking. “The dead were once flesh and
blood. They loved and lost. They experienced great joy and impossible sadness.
Those passions never disappear. They hover like a cloud.” My voice was quiet
beneath the pattering rain. “It’s also a reminder to the living. You only get
one chance. You need to take it.”

I turned toward him. Our
eyes locked.

“You should walk away,”
he said. “I’m damaged.”

“Aren’t we all damaged, at
least a little?”

He took one step closer.

“I’m dangerous, Kat Raney.”
His voice was low and sultry.

“Danger is not
necessarily a reason to avoid doing something,” I whispered.

He pressed his palm
against the side of my face. He grasped my waist and hauled me roughly to him
with the other hand. He kissed me hard and ravenously. I drank in the taste of
his hot and succulent lips. His tongue played in my mouth, twisting and winding
and licking.

In an instant, all of the
barriers that we had erected between us came crashing down into a heap. I
craved his body like a sickness that would never be cured, like a drug that I
would never quit. I needed him more than I needed the breath in my lungs, more
than the blood that surged through my veins.

He pushed me up against a
wooden post, grinding his pelvis against me, his erection strong and thick
through the fabric of his jeans. The rain poured in a solid wall of water just
behind us, blocking out the world beyond. He feverishly pulled at the hem of my
dress, lifting it up over my naked thighs, and ripping my delicate panties over
my hips. They slid loosely down to my ankles. I was wet and throbbing. His
fingers rubbed and stroked and massaged me and then slipped inside, slick and
tight. I moaned with urgent lust.

He kissed and sucked the
side of my neck, ran his tongue along the tops of my breasts that rose round
and smooth. He plucked open the buttons of my bodice one by one with his teeth until
my breasts were naked in the cool air. He sucked forcefully on my hard and
yearning nipples, sending waves of otherworldly pleasure coursing through every
part of my body.

I unzipped his jeans and
wrapped my fingers around his enormous erection. I stroked him rhythmically as
he licked and bit my nipples. He gripped my waist with both hands and pushed me
up higher against the post. I lifted my leg, winding it around his hip.

With a full-throated
groan, he plunged into me, deep and long and thick. The sensation was almost
more than I could bear. He thrust into me again and again. The rain pounded on the
roof. The thunder crashed and rumbled overhead. I coiled my arms around his
shoulders, my fingernails digging into the flesh of his back as he pushed into
me harder and faster. I panted and gasped, my hot breath covering his ear and
neck. He groaned with each powerful thrust, the force of his body holding me up
and his rough hands grasping and kneading my bare flesh. Our bodies moved
together with an animal ferocity, rocking and grinding and surging with an
uncontrolled abandon.

I whimpered and moaned in
the throes of erotic delight. I tightened around him as a spine-tingling wave
of orgasmic frenzy burst through my entire body, arching my back and sending a
cry of ecstatic pleasure from my open mouth. He followed my writhing and
quaking rush with a full, deep, and mighty plunge and a pulsing thrust of
release.

He kissed me and grazed
his lips along my neck, over my collarbone, and onto my naked and heaving
breasts. I wrapped my arms tighter around his shoulders and rested my cheek
against the curve of his neck.

The rain continued to
fall, a soft and steady rhythm that matched the beating of our intertwined
hearts.

We had crossed a line.
Whatever happened from now on, there would be no turning back.

“You had sex.”

“What?”

Marcie peered at me through
squinted eyes, lifting onto her tiptoes to get a better look. I had just
emerged from the shower, my hair bound in a towel atop my head. I cinched the
tie of my bathrobe tighter as Marcie peered closer. The effect of her scrutiny
was somewhere between an FBI interrogation and an eye exam at the optometrist.

“I can see it in your
face! You did the dirty deed!” Her eyes bugged out wide. Her lips opened into a
long “O” as she pressed her fingertips against them.

“Oh stop, Marcie.” I
waved her aside. The corners of my mouth twitched upwards in a telltale grin.

“You silly bitch! I can’t
believe you weren’t going to tell me. With Trent? You had sex with Trent
Montaine? Holy fuckballs, Kat! How was it? Why am I even asking? It was
amazing, right? He’s got a dick the size of Texas? You came seventeen times?
Eighteen?”

She flopped onto her
bedspread and eagerly patted the space beside her. I released my hair from the
towel, shaking it out in the Sunday afternoon sunshine that streamed through
the parted curtains. Trent had dropped me off in the pre-dawn hours after a leisurely
ride back to the city. I’d slept late, my mind still hazy with memories of our
encounter, my thighs pleasurably aching from the bruising force of our passion.

“I’m not going to tell
you anything.” I tried with difficulty to stifle another grin and settled onto
the bed next to Marcie. “It’s personal.”

“Personal, my asshole!
I’m your best friend. You just fucked the King of All Hotties. You owe me
details. That’s the law.”

I blotted my hair with
the towel, stalling for time.

“So, where is Vaughan anyway?
Did you two not go out last night?”

Marcie fluttered her hand
in the air and shook her head. “First of all, don’t try to change the subject.
I’m not an idiot. Second of all, Vaughan and I are having…um…problems, I guess
you could say.”

“Problems? What kind of
problems?”

“Well, my problem is that
I caught him backstage at Squirrel with a pair of glossy lips eagerly sucking
his dick.”

“Are you serious? What
did you do?”

She inhaled deeply
through her nose and placed her hands on her knees in a meditation pose with
her thumbs linked and her fingers spread wide.

“I maintained my
composure. You would have been quite proud. I simply told him that we were
through and that he should probably get his dick checked for herpes after
seeing it in the mouth of that slobbering blond wreck of a human.”

I laughed. A shadow of
hurt crossed Marcie’s face.

“I’m sorry, Marcie.” I
patted her knee. “Vaughan is garbage. You can do so much better.”

“Yeah, I know.” She
sniffed and picked at the tufts in the bedspread. “Still burns though. It’s no
fun to be alone.”

“You won’t be alone for
long. I promise.” I hugged her thin shoulders. “Hey, what about Tony?”

Her expression was a
blank.

“My friend from work, the
one we hung out with a couple of weeks ago. I think he likes you.”

“Oh, Tony! He is cute and
sweet. I’m definitely intrigued.”

The chiming of my phone
on the nightstand distracted my attention. I leapt from the bed to grab it.
Marcie jumped after me and peeked over my shoulder. It was a text from Trent.

Pick you up at 8?

I hurriedly typed out a
reply.

See you then. ;)

“A winky face. Bold move.
Things must be serious between you two.”

“Shut the hell up.” I
threw my towel at Marcie’s face. She sailed dramatically backwards onto the bed
with an agonized wail. We both dissolved into fits of giggles.

“At least one of us will
get laid tonight,” she said with a pout. “I’m glad it’s you though, Kat.” She
placed a hand solemnly on my shoulder. “Fuck long and prosper, my friend.”

***

“More wine?” Trent stood
poised over my glass with a bottle of red wine. He was wore a tight button-down
shirt that accentuated his firm pecks and muscular arms. His hair was slicked
back from his forehead. A coating of thin stubble covered his jaw and chin. His
cologne was a masculine mix of leather and charred wood.

“Yes, please.” I watched
the ruby liquid slosh into my glass, glancing up and catching his eye as it
shifted to my cleavage. I wore my favorite dress, a skin-tight sheath in royal
blue with a deep, low-cut neckline that pushed my breasts together like two
bursting melons. Trent bit his lip and grunted with approval as I leaned
provocatively forward.

We sat at the dining table
in his penthouse, enjoying a sumptuous meal courtesy of one of Manhattan’s most
exclusive restaurants. I wasn’t aware that such places made deliveries, but
they apparently did for people with as much money as Trent. Long tapered white
candles flickered in carved silver candlesticks on either side of our plates.

“Did you enjoy the
dinner?” he asked softly from across the table, his blue eyes shining in the
reflected glow of the candles.

“It was delicious. Thank
you.” I lifted my glass for a sip of wine, gently dabbing the red stain from my
lips with a napkin.

“Good.” His mouth curled
into a subtle grin. Our mutually acknowledged passion made us quiet in each
other’s company. Our usual light banter mellowed into a subdued hush.

He rose and walked slowly
toward me, reaching out a hand to pull me from my seat. My spiky high heels
clicked on the tile floor. He eased one arm around my waist, his hand sliding
down to my ass where it curved round and full in my short, slinky dress.

“How about a trip up to
the roof?” he asked in a gruff whisper.

I nodded, swallowing hard
with the burning lust that throbbed in my temples and between my legs.

He guided me up the
winding staircase. We emerged into the warm night, the thin moon providing a
soft lunar glow. Trent dropped onto the futon cushion, settling himself with
his hands crossed behind his head, his elbows spread outwards. He leered slyly,
his eyes drinking in the full length of my body as I stood before him. I
started to slip out of my heels, but he stopped me with a palm raised in the
air.

“Wait,” he said, his
voice a deep rumble. “Leave the heels on. Take off the dress.”

My pulse raced through
every extremity. My cheeks flushed hot from the intensity of his stare.

“Come on, Kat,” he growled.
“You have to do what I say. I’m your boss, remember?” He broke into a wide
smile.

I reached around my back
and slid the zipper of my dress slowly downward. Then I shrugged out of the
tight sheath and pulled the top down, revealing my black balconette bra. I
pushed the dress over my hips, past the tiny strip of my sheer black panties,
and let it fall to the ground, stepping out of it in my high stiletto heels. I
breathed heavily, my breasts heaving above the thin shelf of lace.

“Now take off the bra.”

I did as told, savoring
the delicious and tantalizing force of Trent’s penetrating stare on my naked
flesh. I unhooked the clasped and let the bra fall into the space before me,
the silky straps slithering easily down my bare arms. My breasts were fully
exposed in the moonlight.

“Now the panties, baby,”
he crooned.

I bent forward and
shimmied my hips from side to side in my best stripper imitation, hooking my
thumbs under the lace and lowering the panties over my thighs, knees and
ankles. I kicked them flirtatiously from my heel and onto the cushion where Trent
lounged. He caught them with one hand and held them up to his lips.

“You look fucking
amazing, Kat.” I ran my hands over my naked breasts and stomach. Trent gave a
satisfied groan. “Turn around, honey. I want to see the whole picture.”

I raised my arms and
lifted my hair, turning slowly, my hips swiveling. I stopped with my back to
him, letting his gaze linger on my arched back and naked ass.

“You like what you see?”
I asked with a lilt of feigned innocence.

“I want to taste every
part of you. I want my tongue inside of your sweet, wet pussy. I want to make
you feel things you never thought possible.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, showing
his strong, well-worked chest in its canvas of tattoos, and slipped it off over
his thick, muscular arms. He hooked a finger in the air, gesturing for me to
come closer.

“Lie down, baby,” he
directed. He removed my heels as I settled backwards onto the cushion. He
slipped out of his jeans and briefs, tossing them to the side. He was erect and
huge.

I gazed up at the
scattering of stars as his fingers gripped my knees and spread my legs wide
apart. He balanced my thighs on his shoulders and lowered his face between my
legs. He licked me softly and gently, sending shivers of insane ecstasy
coursing through my body. I closed my eyes and moaned through parted lips.

His tongue circled me in an
agonizingly pleasurable rhythm. His lips massaged me while his tongue smoothly
caressed me both inside and out. I spread my legs wider, my knees out to the
sides. My fingers dug into the cushion. My back arched as I gasped and panted
with the steadily increasing tingle and pressure of my building orgasm.

His strong hands gripped
my thighs. The cool stars spun above me, the moist summer air stroking my naked
body. I closed my eyes and pleaded for him to keep going. He licked me faster
and harder, his mouth warm, succulent, and sure. I moaned with abandon, tossing
my head back and forth. A wave of unbelievable satisfaction rocketed through
every nerve in my body. I cried out with an uncontainable delight. My legs
clenched, Trent’s face buried deep between them, prolonging my orgasm with a
few final swipes and plunges of his expert tongue.

He lifted his head and
climbed atop me, kissing me hard and deep. Then he smiled and smoothed a
sweat-dampened tendril of hair off of my forehead.

“Good?” he asked, the
corner of his lip raised in a crooked smirk.

“Yeah, it was alright,” I
gasped sarcastically.

He grunted lustily and
kissed me again.

“I guess I’ll have to
keep practicing,” he said.

“Practice makes perfect.
But now it’s my turn to practice on you.”

He raised is eyebrows,
the crooked smirk turning into a full grin.

“Have at it, baby.”

He rolled over onto his
back. I settled onto my knees and took him in my mouth, sucking and massaging
him with my tongue.

“Oh god, Kat. You don’t
need practice.” He groaned and placed his hand on my neck, holding my face
between his legs.

I sucked him in a steady
rhythm as he grunted and moaned with approval. I enjoyed giving him pleasure,
feeling his hips rock beneath me as my lips caressed his long, hard shaft. I
loved the rush when he stiffened and pulsed in my mouth while his fingers
pressed the back of my head and twirled in my hair, forcing me downward. I
relished the tasted of him as he came with a deep moan and a hot torrent
straight into my throat.

I kissed him and flopped
to the side as we both breathed heavily with the final quivers of orgasm
coursing through our muscles. The faint sounds of the nighttime city floated up
to our temporary haven on the roof.

When I turned my head, I
found Trent’s luminous blue eyes watching me. He didn’t turn away, and neither
did I. We stared at each other as our heart rates slowed. A shadow crossed his
face, the briefest tremble of concern. I saw it and wondered what it meant. I was
afraid to ask. I was afraid to say anything that might destroy this perfect
moment.

Trent broke the silence
first.

“This isn’t something
that I normally do, Kat. I want you to know that.”

“What? Have sex?” I
propped onto one elbow and placed a hand gingerly on his forearm. “Trent, are
you a virgin?” I opened my eyes wide in mock surprise.

 “No, you asshole.” He
gave a hearty laugh and shook my hand away. “I’m trying to be real here, and
you’re ruining it. I meant that I’m not some sleazy boss who goes around
banging interns all the time. This is different.”

“Well, you are kind of a
sleazy boss. I mean, you are banging an intern.”

“Touché, my dear. You’re
kind of a sleazy intern. Banging your boss and all.”

He closed his eyes and
grinned when I let out a startled huff. We both laughed. I watched the rise and
fall of his chest and the shifting of his abdominal muscles. He really was too
beautiful for words.

I lay back and closed my
eyes, listening to the soft swish of traffic and snatches of conversations far
below. After a few minutes, I felt Trent’s fingers playing lightly over my skin
from my shoulder to my bare breasts. He massaged and squeezed my nipples, then ran
his hand over my stomach and rubbed two fingertips gently over my clit. I
moaned softly, my eyes still closed.