Complicated: A Tainted Love Novella (5 page)

“Rachel!” he calls to me, almost barreling down everyone in his way as he hurries toward me.

“Marshall!” I cry out and like a magnetic force, I run to him, crashing into his chest.

I feel a sense of peace and oneness when his arms come up around me and he squeezes me. I forget everything here in his arms like this; everything that kept me away from him emotionally all these years – his infidelity, me constantly picking fights and my wild accusations…our baby. My tears fall freely, uncontrollable. I needed him and he came. He came.

He holds on to me like his life depends on it, as if at any moment I might disappear. I clutch him back tightly because I feel the same way. The years apart did nothing to assuage the love I have for him, much as I try to deny the pull between us. Every time we slept together since our break up, I felt a little more of me soften toward him. Back then I could have seen us reuniting, but he never fought for me and he was right not to.

“Shh, baby, I’m here,” he coos reassuringly, his lips to my ear sending a shiver down my spine.

I wanna climb him.

“Oh, baby, I know. Shh, I’m here,” he keeps reassuring me. His soft voice lulls me down from my crying and I pull away from him, wiping my eyes.

“Marshall, this is Ben Hayes,” I announce when I’ve pulled myself together. “Ben this is Sullivan’s lawyer, Marshall Keyes.” They shake hands stiffly, already squaring off against each other. I sense a lot of mistrust between them in this short time.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Hayes. You’re very popular in the business world,” Marshall says, his voice tight.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Keyes, but you can call me Ben,” Ben tells him, his voice also tight, but more friendly.

I squeeze Marshall’s hand slightly, to let him know he should back down. “In that case, you can call me Marshall.”

After introducing him to Sergeant Winston and Ben’s brother, Marshall finally breaks his silence on what he and I – as well as Sergeant Winston – know.

“Rick and Sullivan have a very sordid past together. They dated for a while but it was very…” he pauses, eyes cast upward before continuing, “I guess volatile would be a fitting word. He never hit her, or so she said at the time – I think he did, but that was only an opinion. Everything came to a head when he beat and raped her. She couldn’t hide the abuse anymore,” Marshall reveals.

It shatters me to hear a part of where my girl is coming from. For years since we ran away from facing Rick and prosecution, we pretended that it didn’t happen.

Well, it was fucking real now.

“Are you okay, Ben?” Matt asks.

“Yes, I’m fine. Please continue,” he orders, as though he’s the cop working the case.

Marshall clears his throat and continues, “She retaliated, shooting him in the arm and running away. She reported the rape a few hours later, but she was too late. His parents had pressed charges against her and she was taken into custody. After posting bail, she took off. She’s been under the radar for a while, I guess he found her.”

That’s like eighty percent of that story, and ten percent of her entire story; and Ben senses it when he asks, “Is that all?”

“Before coming here, I found out that Rick had dropped the case against Sullivan just before he left to come to Philadelphia.” This is news!

Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he tell Delilah? Maybe she could have been even more aware, both of us could have! We would have run! I can’t be mad at him, though. I brought Ryan into our lives. This is my fault.

“The paperwork was faxed to me. I’ll be speaking with the detectives privately about this,” he reveals.

Ben rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Is that
all
?” he insists.

“In relation to Rick and her? Yes,” Marshall answers nonchalantly. I hate when he gets like this. He does it to rile the opposition when he’s in court.

“Is that all we need to
know
about Sullivan, Mr. Keyes?” Ben asks impatiently, back to formalities.

“Everything else is irrelevant and for
her
to reveal to
you
,
Mr.
Hayes,” Marshall responds in an irritated tone. “I would now like to speak to the officers alone,” he dismisses.

“The hell you do!” Ben snaps.

“I’m her lawyer, Mr. Hayes. Attorney-client privileges, client’s right to privacy – all that legal stuff – remember?” he responds smugly.

“Please, both of you,” I interrupt. The two of them glare at each other and I see the wheels working overtime in Ben’s head. I hope he doesn’t give up on her now. Delilah needs him, just as I need Marshall.

Just as I think it, Marshall stares at me and he relaxes. I have always had that calming effect on him, just as he has on me. He is my ocean, the one thing that calms even as it rages.

And he’s here.

He came.

Marshall

T
he moment I entered the station, I’d felt her. I didn’t ask where she was, I sensed her and I let my heart lead me to her. Fuck, she was beautiful. I had to know if she was real. I practically trampled everyone in my way to get to her, to get her away from the imposing millionaire who was no doubt pressuring her for answers; something I had demanded he not do.
Fucker.

As soon as she’d seen me, she gasped and I felt her desire and relief ricocheted through the room and hit me square in the chest. I needed to hold her.

She barreled into my chest and my arms came around her and I just held her. It felt right. I breathed her in deep, loving that she still smelled the same after all these years – like fresh flowers. This tells me that she still clings to me, to the memories…to what we had.

It was the first expensive thing I’d ever bought Rachel when she turned sixteen. I’d saved, working extra hours at the library and at the gym to get it for her. I told her that I didn’t want her smelling like other girls at her school, least of all my sister. Her scent needed to be unique to me. I’d been tracing her neck with my nose and she issued out the challenge: “Then get me a new perfume.” So I did.

I’d researched the shit out of fragrances, going to various boutiques and sneezing up a storm until I found the right one; the one that reminded me of her, of my safe place, my home – L’Air Du Temps by Nina Ricci. It was sensual, making my cock spring to life even now, and so feminine. I loved smelling it on her then, and even more so now. As if my mark is still on her.
Fuck.

Nine years of memories came flooding back: seeing her when she was fifteen, making love to her the first time when she was sixteen, buying her that ring…a ring I brought with me for what reason, I would never know.

I kept it at my office after Jenny found it one night. We’d had a huge argument about it and I promised her I’d get rid of it, just to shut her up.

I didn’t.

With her in my arms now, it makes it all worth it. But my sister is missing and I’ve got to help them find her. So business first, winning back the love of my life later.

We are now at Ben’s house – Rachel, Ben, his mother, Diane – such a sweet woman – and brother, Matt, and me. It’s been over twelve hours and we still haven’t found Delilah and I am going out of my mind with worry. I want to fucking hit something, hurt something. As bad as I am, I feel sorry for Ben. He appears even more helpless than the rest of us.

He brought us here under the guise of protection but I don’t think he could handle being alone. He is a mess, putting on a brave face. I’m sure if we had left him alone in this big house, he would have fallen apart. Company is good for him, for all of us.

After eating his mother’s delicious roast chicken with creamy scalloped potatoes, we all decided to have a drink to calm our nerves, his mother deciding to head off to bed early. It felt tense at first in each other’s company, feeling guilty about drinking whilst Delilah was still missing. By the second drink, however, we had all loosened up. Four drinks in, Ben and I were talking easily. He was actually a good guy. I couldn’t have picked a better man for my sister. He’s smart, even slightly inebriated, and focused. By the sixth drink, my eyes were drooping, but I forced my eyes to stay open because I knew what six glasses of alcohol did…to Rachel. I wanted to be the one she took her sexual frustrations out on when the time came, because liquor makes her hot and bothered.

My dick had come to life at the thought, and the blood rushing through my veins kept me alert. Ben had shown Rachel and me to separate rooms and with a heavy heart, we parted. So now I am wide awake in bed with a hard-on from hell, just thinking about Rachel down the hall from me in pajamas, the fabric kissing her skin. I grip my erection and squeeze, ready to jerk off, when a light knock at the door sounds and sends my blood racing hot with desire.

I know who it is. I fucking feel her deep in my veins.

“Come in,” I say past the hoarse need clogged in my throat.

The door opens tentatively and wavy strawberry blonde hair is all I see first. Then…then I see those eyes. The eyes that render me stupid and so turned on I can barely think straight. The sheet isn’t covering my body, so when she gasps at seeing my cock straining in my boxers, I immediately grab hold of it. She used to love it when I pleasured myself for her.

Quickly, she slips inside and shuts the door behind her before tearing across the large room to me. I meet her halfway in the bed and throw her down roughly, her body bouncing once off the bed before landing back with an
oomph
. She tears at my boxers and I literally rip the flimsy silk cami off of her, exposing her lovely breasts, a blush already flaming a path over them. Jesus I missed her skin – not quite pale, not quite tan. I love the freckles dotting her chest so I dip my head down and lick them, as many as I can find. She whimpers beneath me and her skin heats even more. If she keeps on making those noises, I won’t be able to control myself.

I want to howl with joy at having her underneath me right now. What had I done in this life to have her here with me now? It was the worst time of my life losing her. Shakespeare has a famous line from one of his plays –
’Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all
. Can we truly say that, though? To lose the love we had is as devastating as losing a limb – you eventually learn to function without it, but there will always be something missing – like how it feels when I don’t have Rachel. So, what’s better? Never losing a limb, or having it, being accustomed to it, thinking of a future with it and
then
losing it? Yeah, I’d prefer to never have lost Rachel any at all.

But here she is…with me.

I trail kisses down to her perky, heavy-with-need breasts and, with no pause, suck her nipple between my teeth. She cries out in ecstasy and her hands shoot up to my head, fingers grabbing for my hair and pulling. I growl at the pain I feel and groan at the pleasure I feel at her wanting me so badly.

I pull away, unable to control my desires any longer. Ripping my boxers off, my cock springs free, seeking out her entrance. Control is slipping away with every passing second that I have her under me, and filled with a sexual rage, I rip her silk shorts at the crotch and roughly shift her panties to one side, plunging my finger in.

“Jesus fuck, Rachel,” I hiss at feeling her soaking wet. “Motherfucking fuck!”

I remove my fingers and lick her sweet essence from them. Her breathing is ragged, animalistic as she watches me taste her. I want to devour her, but there will be time for that later. Now, I just
have to
have her.

I spread her legs wider and she opens like a fucking flower. I rip the fabric more and then frustratingly rid her of the offending material, sliding her sexy red lace panties down her legs. Without any further warm up, I sink into nirvana, bliss…my home.

Rachel screams at my intrusion, but not from pain, never from pain. She is always ready for me. Her legs widen further and I pull out, my cock throbbing in swollen anger. I slam back in, her breath hitching and eyes widening in pleasure. I want her to start. I love it when she starts.

I withdraw and pound back into her, loving when her eyes turn to slits. I love stoking her fire. I pull out again and this time I hover at her entrance. I descend on her lips and kiss her madly, reveling in her moans and how she kisses me back with a fierceness that no girl I’ve dated since her has ever matched.

Rachel rips her lips away from mine, but not before biting my bottom lip.

“If you’re fucking me, fuck me, Marshall. Don’t be a pussy,” she demands, taunting me, poking my beast.
Yes.

“Shut up, Rae, or I’ll make you shut up,” I threaten, rubbing my cock against her soaking wet opening. I love when we battle; it makes me ravenous.

Rachel squirms, wrapping her legs around me, trying to get me closer, to get me to fuck her. She knows, though. She knows I love her fight.

“Fuck me, or I swear to God you will never get this pussy again,” she warns, and I fucking love it.

I slam into her, the last words dying away as I steal her breath, and then I withdraw again. She growls and I have to control the urge to laugh. Fucking hot piece of ass, Rachel Welles.

My fucking
heart
.

“You sure about that, Firecracker?” I pummel into her once more, only to pull back out, a smile quirking my lips.

Frustrated, Rachel scissors her legs and throws me off balance. I land on the bed and she mounts me, slamming herself down and impaling my cock. I groan and whimper as if wounded, but the pleasure that rockets up my spine from her hot, wet core is beyond words. She steadies herself on top of me, her hands on my pecs. When she stares at me, I see something in her eyes that I haven’t seen in years, but it’s gone just as soon as I spot it.

I brush a tuft of hair from her face and trace my index finger down to her jawline. Rachel’s eyes close and her body gives off a slight tremor, before she bats my hand away and grinds down on my cock. She doesn’t want me to see, but she should already know that I see everything when it comes on to her. She’s missed me.

Rachel’s sex clenches me as she rotates her hips and I grip her hips digging my fingers in to restrain myself from shooting off inside her too quickly. She feels so warm, so wet; like Heaven.
Fuck
.

I won’t last long, I know it. I’ve wanted this too much and for far too long. So, flipping her on her back, I kiss her deeply, a kiss she returns with as much fervor – all while I’m still inside of her. When we pull apart, we’re both breathing hard, staring at each other with a dazed look.

“This is just round one,” I tell her in a hoarse voice, beginning to move again inside her. Her pussy ripples, gripping with every movement.

Rachel’s breathing shallows and her eyes begin to flutter, but she holds my gaze when she says, “Who says we’re doing this again?”

I give her repeated strokes, hard and fast enough to take her breath away. She wraps her arms around my neck and takes it all, screaming out her pleasure. I love hearing her.

“Sure you don’t wanna do this again?” I ask her when I seize my strokes, watching as tears well in her eyes.

Rachel bites down on her lip and looks up at me. The watery, loving look she casts my way melts my heart. She is so beautiful, like an artist’s muse. She’s my muse, my reason for breathing. This is so right between us, and no matter how much she fights, her very soul knows this is where we belong – with each other. I gave her space in the past thinking that that was what was best for us, but sometimes, what we think is best for us is what destroys us.

So I’m done giving her space.

“Please,” she whispers, writhing underneath me. “I want it, I want you.”

Her words are my undoing, so I give her what she needs.

I give her me…in three rounds.