Page 39

Dallas

Alex is so different now.

When we were kids, I thought he was intimidating just because he was older. But now, he’s much more serious and walks with a purpose and good posture.

I would never admit it to him, but when I turned around and saw him for the first time at GalactiCon, I was terrified. Shelby’s right, he did look like he stepped straight out of the Hive from Resident Evil, with his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and twice as much muscle as the last time I saw him. I recognized him, but he looked like a mirage, a clone that was just different enough to make me wonder if it was really him.

But as soon as I kissed him, felt his skin, and smelled his hair, I knew it was him. I knew it was Alex— my Alex.

But he’s supposed to be dead.

Colson said he died, and Alex confirmed it. Yet, he’s still here, and I’m inside his swanky apartment only miles from my house. As soon as we rolled up in front of this building, I knew I was grossly underdressed. I never even knew apartment buildings could have front desks. Do people do things for you? We can barely get the maintenance guy to come replace a window unit when it kicks out.

I hear Alex’s muffled voice go silent and, a few seconds later, he says my name.

Who was he talking to? I don’t know what he was saying, but it sounded like someone he knew. He called them mi jovencita. Is that a nickname? Like…

Mí Mariposita?

Who else does he have names for?

Maybe this is why you should’ve studied more in Spanish…

I hear Alex say my name again, and after a few seconds, he says it louder. He begins walking around, calling my name. He sounds worried, and then irate—almost panicked. I don’t know what for, I’m obviously still here. I might be comfortable with public nudity in some situations, but walking through town back to my house in the middle of the night isn’t one of them.

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. He sounds positively frantic.

Shit, what if Alex has PTSD?

I don’t know where he’s been for the past six years. I’m sure Colson has PTSD, and look what it did to him. I glance down at myself in the residual glow of the city lights. Well, if anything happens, I guess it’ll make for an interesting headline.

The front door opens, and then closes. It sounds like he left. I hope he’s not trying to call me.

That’s what you get for not letting me go back inside for my phone.

Soon, the front door opens and closes again, his heavy footfalls muted as he moves across the concrete. My cheeks tense as a smile creeps across my face. But my muscles go rigid when the bedroom door bursts open and he steps into the room.

Motionless, I wait for Alex’s figure to appear in my peripheral vision and track him with my eyes as he slowly meanders to the end of the bed. His black hoodie lays on the dresser behind him, just beneath the giant mirror affixed to the wall. But, soon, his reflection eclipses mine and all I see is his narrow waist that gives way to his broad chest and shoulders.

“You wouldn’t stop to let me get a change of clothes,” I tell him, pressing my fingertips into my thighs.

“I told you, you don’t need them.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Alex,” I smile up at him.

“Thank God, ” he sneers down at me with disgust.

“And I’m not scared of you.”

“Were you ever?”

I hesitate, my eyes drawn up to his intimidating gaze.

“Were you ever? ” he asks again, much slower this time.

“One time,” I finally answer. “But it’s also the one time I always wanted to go back to. I think about it when I’m about to fall asleep, so maybe I’ll start dreaming about it, and maybe it won’t stop at the same place it always does.”

His gaze feels more and more like an inferno with each passing second.

“And now, I’m old enough for you to fuck me like you wanted to that one night. I’ve thought about it a lot—how you ran to my house and climbed through my window. I didn’t even have time to get dressed. I remember how you kissed me, and then you bent me over my bed. You scared me, and you were right to stop. But after you left, I wished you hadn’t. Because I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance. I wished you’d done it so I could at least say it happened. And that’s what I was thinking about when I let AJ watch me the other night—when you watched me the other night.”

Alex cups my chin, brushing his thumb over the edge of my lip as he caresses my jaw. “I’ve done a lot of things, Dal, vile things that are better left behind in faraway places. But I couldn’t do that to you—take your voice like that. And maybe I did that anyway by not telling you who I was until now, but I’m willing to live with that, because I couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer.” He runs his fingers around the back of my neck, twisting them into my hair, “But you’re not a girl anymore. You’re a woman with the only thing I’ve wanted, but never been able to have, until now.”

The way he looks at me takes me back to the dark places; the movie theater, the janitor’s closet, the empty classroom, the rusted-out car in the woods, and my bedroom, where I fantasized about Alex Barrera, wishing he would appear at my window in the dead of night and crawl into my bed with me, and wishing he didn’t have a conscience.

And now I want his rich, brown eyes on me forever. Now, I’d rather him go blind than look upon anyone but me.

“Did you ever find yourself a sweet little slut?” I ask, hooking my fingers over his belt buckle and pulling him closer. “Did you fuck her good like you wanted?”

Alex takes a long, deep breath and clenches my hair at the base of my skull. He’s so serious now, it’s like getting to know him all over again.

“No,” he murmurs, the severity in his eyes unwavering. “I couldn’t find any I liked.”

I start untucking his shirt, slowly pushing it up to reveal a thick layer of muscle beneath his tan skin. I should’ve known it was him, that I was looking at him for three fucking years. It wasn’t just wishful thinking buried deep in the recesses of my mind.

Alex takes the shirt from me and whisks it over his head. When he does, a bolt of electricity shoots through my chest.

My eyes are immediately drawn to the black ink covering his left pec. It’s a portrait with striking black waves woven with grey shadow and intricate detail. A woman with big, piercing eyes peers through thick waves of black hair.

Me.

Slowly, I reach up and gently trace the stark black swirls down his chest until they fade at his ribs, where my fingers brush over the scar that matches mine.

“I told everyone I was looking for a woman with long black hair, killer curves, and eyes the color of the Pacific. I showed her picture to everyone, but no one knew who she was.”

I look up at him. “You said four years, it’s been six. What if I’d left, dropped out, gone to school somewhere else?”

“You know what happens when you die, Dal?”

I give a slight shake of my head.

“Whether due to increased gamma waves or oxygen deprivation that triggers a surge of neurotransmitters, the amygdala prioritizes your most emotionally charged memories, creating a veritable playback of your life at the moment of death.”

I stare at him, eyes wide, as he rattles off this knowledge in a sharp, quick, monotone voice like he’s responding to a commanding order.

“Theoretically,” he adds with a shrug. “So, when my corpse was laying in the back of a truck, I heard my mom’s voice, my dad’s, my brothers’, Aiden’s, Mason’s, Colson’s…” he hesitates, bringing his voice back down, “but the last one, and the loudest one that brought me back to life, was yours. And you were asking me to stay with you. I knew you’d still be here,” he smirks, “dressed as the Tomb Raider, no less.”

I let out an unexpected laugh. “The boots were real this year,” I mumble, “the prop guns still need an upgrade.”

Alex glances over his shoulder and then crosses the room, disappearing inside the closet. There’s a faint shuffling, and then he reemerges, carrying a large handgun at his side. He grabs his shirt and wipes it down before pulling the slide. After a few snaps and clicks, he points it at the floor and pulls the trigger over and over to confirm it’s unloaded.

When he reaches the bed, he holds it out to me. “Try a real one.”

I take the gun from him, assessing the weight as I turn it over in my hands. “Yours won’t fit in my holster.” It’s larger than both my hands put together.

Alex cocks his head, dragging his eyes down my body. “I think it will,” he replies, lingering at my knees spread beneath me.

He reaches for the gun and slowly crouches down, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed in front of me. Then he lays his arm across the mattress, holding the gun between my knees, high on the grip so the barrel is pointing to the ceiling.

“Ride it,” he commands. “Ride my gun like you’re going to make it come.”

I swallow hard, my eyes shifting from the gun, to Alex, and back again.

He senses by apprehension. “Don’t worry, Angelína, I’ll be nice to the girl with the gun.”

The longer I gaze at the gun’s smooth, yet formidable barrel, the more I fight the violent images threatening to break through—the car, the screams, the pain. But when I blink, all I see is Alex’s face in front of me, the same face who watched me for three years and I never knew it, the one who always finds me in the dark.

I still want him to watch me.

I slide one knee forward, and then the other. Grasping one of his shoulders, I raise up and reach for the gun between my legs. I take the barrel and slowly guide it between my thighs until it slides over the wettest part. There’s barely any resistance as I gently sink down around the cold metal. I dig my nails into his shoulder, taking it deeper as my muscles relax around it.

Air hisses through my nose and my jaw drops at the foreign sensation stretching me more with each inch. I grab his other shoulder and begin slowly rolling my hips, fucking his weapon just inches from his face. With every breath, I go deeper, imagining him, and the camera, and the torturous vibrations that I wished were him pushing me over the edge.

“Take it,” he commands.

I lower my hand and reach between my legs to replace Alex’s hand with mine. Then he kicks off his boots at the foot of the bed and begins unbuckling his belt.

“I told you I’ve done vile things,” he slides the strap through the loops and drops it on the floor with a clatter, “and I hope you don’t hold them against me.”

“No,” I murmur with a desperate shake of my head.

I spread my knees wider so he can see the glistening metal pinned between me and the bed as it slides trigger-deep into my pussy.

“Would you still love me, Dal,” he starts unfastening his black pants, and then hooks his thumbs in the waist and pushes them down his hips, letting them fall to his ankles, “if I did vile things to you now?”

He catches his cock as it springs free, stroking it as he watches me.

“ Yes, ” I moan as the angle of the barrel hits just right. “ I love you…I still love you… ”

A smug grin crosses Alex’s face as he ambles around the bed. “You love me,” I hear a shuffle somewhere behind me, and then the mattress sinks down as he moves across the bed, “but do you still trust me?”

I feel his hands on my hips, taking control as he slows my movements and guides my hips up, and then back down onto the barrel.

“Yes. Alex… ” I keep saying his name like it proves he’s really here, and maybe he won’t suddenly vanish.

“Have you been a good girl, training that tight little ass for me?”

“ Mm-hmm …” My eyes roll with his agonizing pace.

I bite my lip, smiling to myself as he runs his hand around my back and down my ass, checking to see if I’m telling the truth. As soon as his finger nudges the end of the silicone toy, my head falls back onto his shoulder.

“ Angelína, ” he moans, moving his hips and teasing the top of my ass with his cock.

It’s been there, waiting for him since I left my house to meet his alter ego at GalactiCon. I’m shocked he didn’t notice it until now. Then again, it was dark in my house, and what happened was chaotic and mind-blowing and wonderful.

Alex takes the end of the toy and gently pulls, releasing it with a satisfying pop. Then he tosses the plug aside and runs his hand up my spine, slowly pushing me forward.

“On your hands.” After so long, his voice is utterly tantalizing.

His gun still deep in my pussy, the pressure shifts as I carefully sink down on all fours.

“ Goddamn, you’re still so beautiful, Dal.” He brushes my hair over my shoulder. “You’re going to be so amazing.”

There’s a click, and a moment later he tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed. He runs his hand down the center of my ass and I feel the chill of the gel as he gently slides one of his slick fingers inside me. My breaths quicken and, no matter how much I try to relax, my muscles tremble with anticipation. He massages around my edges and then starts teasing me with his cock, reveling in my shallow breaths, pleading for relief.

But then he stills and wraps one arm across my chest, gently nuzzling into the curve of my neck as he speaks in my ear.

“Do you want me to stop?” His tone turns gentle and soothing. “I can stop if you need me to. I’m not going anywhere. I’d wait another six years for you, and then I’d wait a thousand more.”

His voice sends the best kind of chill down my spine as I reach up and run my fingers through the back of his hair, pulling him closer to feel his mouth on me. I grit my teeth, all but writhing beneath him.

“ No, Alex, ” I creak out painfully. “I don’t want you to stop. I want you to fuck me like I belong to you, fill every inch of me until I can’t feel myself anymore. All I want to feel is you. ”

At that, he drags his lips down my neck and sinks his teeth into my shoulder, drawing a gasp from me. Then he grabs me beneath the chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“ Little hellion, ” he growls.

He grabs my hips and my ass hits his thighs with a satisfying smack. My back arches as he takes his cock and notches himself at my back, slick and ready to take him in. With a slow roll of his hips, he slides into me, pushing an airy, high-pitched moan from my lungs as he clears the tight entrance. My eyes roll as he goes deeper, stretching me and pressing against my walls, against the barrel of the gun just on the other side. A sharp gasp escapes and I can’t stay quiet any longer, like I’m about to burst at the seams. Alex pumps his hips, and every sound comes spilling out like a breath I’ve held for too long.

“ Fucking Christ, Dal, ” Alex lets out a harried groan as I clench my muscles around him. “I’m never leaving this ass again.”

“Take it up with AJ,” I snicker between breaths. “This ass belongs to him.”

A pop echoes off the ceiling and I let out a yelp as Alex smacks me across the ass—hard—sending fire radiating over my thick flesh.

“That's for the smart mouth you still have,” he rasps.

“ Again, ” I moan desperately.

He smacks it again, making me cry out.

“That's for the ice water.”

I don’t even have to ask; he smacks it once more, even harder.

“And that's for making me wait six years.”

Then he reaches under my chin and grabs my throat, bowing my back so I’m looking up at his beautiful face. His hips pulse against me, his cock filling me so good that I can already feel the orgasm building.

“ Fuck, Alex! ” I throw my ass back against him. “ Fuck, I missed you! ”

“Yeah, you did,” Alex groans as he digs his fingertips into my throat. “Because I’m the last one you’re ever going to feel impaling you whenever—” thrust, “I—” thrust, “fucking—” thrust, “want!”

My lungs seize and the orgasm hits, a wave of screams erupting from deep inside my chest, punctuated with broken words and desperate cries. My entire core shudders as we both come fast and hard, bound together by his cock deep in my ass and the barrel of his gun fixed in my pussy.

When it’s over, I collapse onto my stomach, my ass still in the air as I revel in the aftershocks. Dazed and ears ringing, I feel myself being rolled over. I wince as his gun falls out of me, disappearing as I run my heels up and down the comforter. I roll my head from side to side, searching for Alex, but he’s gone. There’s a faint rushing noise in the background, but I can’t find him until a few seconds later when the mattress sinks down.

Hovering over me, Alex runs his hand from my ribs up to my tits. “ Mí Mariposita ,” he murmurs as he thumbs my nipple with admiration, “you’re so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would.”

My mouth curls into a drunk smile and all I can do is nod, my eyes fluttering as I try to focus on his eyes. He slides one arm under my shoulders and his other under my knees, then scoots me to the edge of the bed and hoists me to his chest.

I don’t know where he’s taking me until the charcoal grey walls suddenly switch to bright white and a warm blanket of steam engulfs my body. Gently, he lowers my feet onto the plush rug just outside the shower and then removes my glasses, setting them on the vanity before he leads me through the glass doors. I inhale a sharp breath and then let out a groan when I feel the scalding water cascade over my shoulders.

Alex sits down on the teak bench beneath the stream and gently pulls me to him. Straddling his legs, I sink onto his lap and drape my arms over his shoulders, settling against his glistening chest. Holding me against him with one arm, he uses the other to gently tip my head back and let the water rush over my hair. He doesn’t speak, only moves his mouth over my shoulders and chest while he sweeps the water over my body.

He takes his time lathering my long, thick hair with shampoo before carefully rinsing it out and doing the same with the conditioner—the same brands I use. Finally, he tips my head back to rinse it out, running his hand down my back with the rivers of soap and down the center of my ass. I roll against him, pulling him closer as he gently massages the sensitive places between my legs.

“I want you again,” I practically beg him, rolling my forehead across his as the water streams down us both.

“Get used to this—” he wrings the end of my hair in his fist, “me taking care of you while I mold your body to mine.”

After he bathes me, I stand on the plush rug while he dries me off and dresses me in one of his soft, grey t-shirts, finishing me off with my glasses. He does the same and, to my surprise, produces a pair of the same thick, black glasses as the ones he wore years ago.

“Nice glasses,” I quip, not-so-secretly swooning at the unobstructed view of his naked body.

“You, too,” he smirks. “You must be starving.”

“Yes,” I admit, remembering that I never actually ate dinner.

I follow Alex out of the bathroom and into the massive walk-in closet, where he opens a chest of drawers and pulls out a pair of black sweatpants. I gaze around the closet, admiring the ostentatious light fixture adorned with teardrop crystals dangling from the black metal piping. That is, until I catch sight of the clothing racks on the opposite side of the closet.

The lower shelves are lined with shoes, mostly sneakers, boots, and a few pairs of heels. The racks above them are lined with jackets, hoodies, and sweaters. Women’s clothes.

I cross the closet and open the drawers. They’re filled with neat stacks of shirts, much more feminine than expected. The next drawer is more of the same, followed by a drawer filled with pants. I jerk a pair out, letting it unfurl to reveal a pair of black leggings. I drop them on the floor and jerk open another drawer, where I come face to face with two neat rows of assorted bras.

I spin around, a surge of adrenaline racing through my veins. “Whose shit is this, Alex?”

He strolls across the closet and looks over my shoulder at the drawer full of underwear. “Oh, that. ”

That? What the hell does he mean, that?

“I was going to mention—”

“Let me guess,” I cut him off, “is it jovencita’s? ”

His eyes round and he stifles a laugh.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Alex!” I snap, scowling at him through gritted teeth.

“No!” he exclaims. “ Carino , I’m not laughing at you.”

I thrust my finger up at him. “Don’t you call me that when you have nicknames for other women!”

His jaw drops and he lets out a scoff, his eyes darting around the closet. I don’t know why he’s laughing about this, but the longer I look at the clothes hanging along the wall and the shoes neatly lined up beneath them, a lump grows in my throat. Why would he bring me here… where he lives with another woman?

“Are you,” my voice cracks, “ married? ”

“No.”

“ Oh, ” my tone turns sour again, “so it's just a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“ Then whose is it? ” I growl, my eyes beginning to water.

“It's yours.”

“What is?”

“All of it,” he nods to the drawers. “It belongs to you, Dal.”

My eyes dart back to the drawers, the shoes, and the clothes on the racks. I didn’t look that closely at first, caught off-guard by a woman’s wardrobe that’s not supposed to be here. But then a stark realization washes over me. I run my hands over the stacks of shirts, over the blue screenprint adorning the front of a black tank top.

Shapeshift.

These are my clothes. But they look different—they look new.

“Where did all my clothes come from?” I squint at him.

“You do a lot of online shopping, I just looked at your email receipts from the past year and reordered everything.”

“ You hacked my email? ”

I scan the lines of shoes and realize he’s telling the truth. I own every single pair of them, from the pink and purple Nike high-tops to the black patent leather goth boots and chunky purple pumps.

“Are you angry?”

“No. That sounds like the kind of shit I would do, too,” I peer at him out of the corner of my eye. “But why?”

“So you can live here with me. Because this is your home now.”

I blink, staring at him in shock at the same time a wave of warmth rushes over my entire body. Alex curated a carbon copy of my wardrobe and had it waiting here next to his plethora of black t-shirts, boots, and guns?

“Your last pair of shoes came two days ago,” he adds.

“Is this why you didn’t say anything until now?”

“I had to finish it. It needed to be perfect—like you always lived here.”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Anyway,” he slides the drawer shut with a grin, “like I said, you must be starving.”