Page 14 of What’s Left of Me (What Left #1)

It’s familiar, like calling on a memory of some sort.

I’ve heard it before from others, not quite so frankly, but I’ve still heard it.

I don’t remember my uncle ever addressing me that way over the phone, but the days after the fire are blurry.

It could be something that I thought was a dream but really happened.

Vinny appears at the top of the steps. His eyes zero in on the phone by my ear, and I drop it on the bed.

“Who was that?”

We both ask the question at the same time, holding each other’s gazes. There’s a dark glint in his eyes, and after uncle’s eerie words it sets me a little on edge. I clear my throat and try again. “Who called?”

“My mother,” he says simply, and I resist the urge to groan. Gloria Ajello never did like me. “She wants to know why we haven’t stopped by The Grove.”

By The Grove, she means the family orange fields. It’s run by the Ajellos themselves plus extended family. Nowadays I’m pretty sure most of the oranges are machine-picked and it’s mainly drivers moving the produce back and forth. It’s an excellent front for the illegal actions of the Ajellos.

“I told her we’ve only been in town a few days,” he goes on, rubbing the back of his head. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I appreciate the way his tattoos glint in the afternoon light across bronzed skin. “But she saw the new murder, and she was worried about… me.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s predictable. She does remember my name, doesn’t she?”

He sighs. “Yes. She knows you weren’t killed. She’s concerned that I might not want to cope with the possibility and should come see the family.”

Shaking my head, I sit back on the bed again. “You know, if I were anyone else, she might be concerned about me.”

“I know.” Vinny comes to sit on the bed with me, his hand closing over mine. The rose tattooed on the back of his hand catches my attention, and I can instantly pick out the words hidden in the design. “I won’t make you go see her.”

“Oh,” I reply sarcastically, arching a brow, “So I get to sit in boredom here instead? What am I supposed to do out here by myself?”

He lifts one shoulder. “You could try pole dancing with the setup Emeric has in his dining room.”

We’re quiet for a moment, watching each other, and then we both burst out laughing.

His living room is normal enough, but the pole dance setup where his dining room table could be definitely drew our attention the first night.

I’ve tried it before at home and pole dance just isn’t my area of expertise.

I have better ways to get my husband’s blood pumping.

I lean into his shoulder, wrapping my other hand around his arm. He speaks before I manage to. “Sterling called. They looked into the new victim.”

“And how does that apply to us?” I ask without lifting my head from his shoulder.

“It shouldn’t,” he replies. “I had just gotten off the phone with him when Emeric called. Sterling is convinced that Alastair will want to talk now that there’s a second body. He might gloat, or goad, or just joke about what’s happened. Sterling claims the possibilities are endless.”

My hand tightens beneath his. “He… Alastair’s unpredictable.”

“Yes.” He leans over, kissing the top of my head.

“We’ll have to talk to him, darling. It’s inevitable.

If Sterling feels cornered and has no other options he will send people out to question us in Colorado if we go back.

It’ll destroy the business. Your business.

If we risk that there was no point in coming out here. ”

I tense beside him. The club was my dream, and I’m Vinny’s dream. He’ll do what he has to by supporting me, but he won’t let someone push me too far ever again. If reporters catch wind of our club’s name, it could cause issues in Colorado.

If there’s too much attention in Colorado through speculation, the club might become a casualty.

We pride ourselves on privacy and discretion at Sins and Secrets.

People’s identities could be linked to their kinky personas, images from the parking lot could surface of patrons coming in and out and critical details about our clientele could fall into the wrong hands and destroy more lives than just ours.

Serenity and Emeric wouldn’t sell people’s information to shady reporters, but that doesn’t mean a club member might not. People have opinions about us disappearing, and curiosity can be maddening when someone dangles answers and cash under a person’s nose. We don’t need to risk anything else.

We’re not here to have some sort of final debate with Alastair. We’re here to keep our business out of the news, and our friends' privacy intact. Whatever happens with Alastair is extra, and I’d prefer to spend as little time dealing with him as possible.

“Do we have to go anywhere soon?” I ask after a lengthy pause, glaring at the floor.

The idea of getting up and leaving Emeric’s house right now feels like entirely too much to handle.

The whole place is decorated in things that remind me of him and it has a cozy atmosphere.

I can pretend like we aren’t in Citrus Grove here, but the moment we leave and go back outside the illusion is over.

“Not for a while,” Vinny says slowly. “Sterling offered to come here-”

“No,” I interrupt, pulling myself away from him. “I have no interest in seeing him, especially here.”

“Okay, darling,” Vinny says smoothly, reaching up to grip my chin. “Your wish is my command.”

The corner of my mouth tips up into a grin at that. Vinny is gruff most of the time, and almost a touch too protective when he’s seriously worried about me, but when we’re alone he knows how to make my body sing.

This is not what I need to be doing right now.

I need to be focused on getting myself together for whatever the rest of the day could bring.

A girl died by the hand of an imposter, in a case that, like it or not, revolves around me.

The guilt is monumental when I focus on it too much, like the weight of being at fault could crush me from the inside.

Vinny watches me silently. He’s attuned to me, but I’m not sure if he can pick apart my emotions as easily as he usually can right now. I’m all over the place, tripping over how I feel and overthinking things that typically don’t bother me.

And the call from Uncle Wayne? I didn’t go off like I normally would, and he left me with more to think about than I want to.

The death of some sweet nurse? At home I’d feel bad for a moment, possibly even watch the report, but I wouldn’t feel the impending guilt that this all somehow comes back to me. Meaning it’s all my fault.

Alastair… in Colorado, he doesn’t exist. We don’t let him exist. But this isn’t home, and here in Florida he’s everywhere I look.

Hot lips press to my temple, and all at once my racing thoughts screech to a halt. “You’re too tense, darling. Let me work it out of you.”

My heart flutters even as heat pools low in my body, my pussy already getting wet from his mere words. Vinny has a talent for getting me to come on command and without restraint.

It’s part of the perks of being married to him. He might look like an asshole but he treats me like a goddess.

His lips travel lower, down to the uneven neckline of the shirt I’m wearing. It’s his, not mine, because there’s a level of comfort from sleeping in his clothes. He tugs it further to the side, his tongue tracing along the ridge of one of the scars, and I gasp.

No one touches my scars. No one turns their ugliness into beauty. No one except Vinny.

My fingers reach for his waistband as his hand slides beneath my shirt, finding and tweaking my nipple as he nips at my neck. I sink into the feeling, letting him manipulate me how he wants, and he’ll take everything we both need soon enough.

I want passion. I want the damn headboard in this room to bounce so hard off the wall that it leaves a crack we have to fix. I want my husband buried so deep inside me I can’t remember a time when we weren’t connected.

As though reading my mind, he stops with the sweet and gentle shit and grips my hip, flipping me over harshly so my legs slip off the bed and my chest lands on the mattress. I grunt, flipping my head around to stare at him through a web of blonde hair.

The hand that smacks my ass is a welcome sting, and my eyes flutter closed to focus on that instead of anything that’s happening around us.

He moves off the bed, sliding in behind me to massage my bare ass. If I don’t wear underwear outside because he likes it, I typically don’t sleep in it either. I’m still trying to catch my breath as he flips up the shirt and parts my ass cheeks with each hand, admiring me.

His finger graze the scars, and for a moment it reminds me that Alastair cut there too. It all had to be vertical lines, but there’s never been a reason why. It’s a unique signature, one that’s left me scarred beyond repair.

Another strike to my other cheek, this one harder and sharper, forces me back to the present. “You’re in your head too much, Trauma. Do I need to remind you of your worth?”

Trauma. He’s not going to call me darling right now, and I like hearing the unique nickname on his lips. He’s the only one to ever call me something like that.

“Yes Master,” I hiss, letting my head drop forward. He hasn’t fucked me properly since we arrived down south, and I am desperate for the overwhelming feeling of taking all of him. It reminds me of the first time he ever called me that when we were residents of Citrus Grove.

“All you’ll ever be is a victim if you let the trauma suffocate you, Joelle,” he told me, bending until our noses touched.

I’m trembling, lost between rage and despair, but he’s the one with a gravelly voice, like it pains him to speak the truth out loud.

“Burn from the inside out if you have to, but your trauma isn’t for their amusement. Save it for me.”

Vinny smacks my ass again, and I rock against him.

I’m bare and it would be incredibly easy to slide inside me and fuck me into the mattress before heading out to begin our day in the late afternoon.

Instead of taking the opportunity however, he strikes each of my ass cheeks twice more before pulling back.

Panic claws at my chest when I think he’s going to leave me here needy and breathless, and I dig my nails into the sheets.

My feet are planted on the ground, kicked wide when Vinny steps in close behind me, but there’s a shake all throughout my body that makes me want to kneel instead.

I’m not sure if it’s from being overwhelmed or overstimulated, but it’s about more than just what my husband is doing to me.

Then I hear the jingle and slide of a zipper opening nearby. There’s some shuffling, and even if I don’t know what exactly he’s going for I know he’s looking into our sex bag for some on-the-go items.

The TSA agent who checked our bags and opened up that particular interior pocket turned very red upon seeing the sex toys. We didn’t bring anything that might get us in trouble with an airline, but the attendant's face was priceless when she held up the collar and cuff set.

Nevermind how many dildos were sitting just below it.

Something cool hits my ass, and I moan when I realize it’s lube. I love anal, and Vinny sometimes works himself in and other times forces me to take it and pins me down into the pillows.

I like both ways.

He leans over, his warm front pressing to my sweaty back. “We’re going to go do the interviews again. I already confirmed it with Sterling.”

That throws me off, and I twist to glare at him. “That’s what you want to talk about? Right before you fuck me?”

“Oh, I’m not going to fuck you. I’m going to torment you with the possibility of an orgasm. It’ll give you something to focus on in case Sterling’s team tries to give us hell.”

There’s barely enough time to process what he’s saying before I feel the pressure against my ass. It’s not the head of his dick, it feels like silicone and with a push something slides into me.

I moan, rocking back against it. That slides the toy further in, the wide head of the plug spreading me further as it settles inside me.

He picked a big one, I can feel it as I gasp and claw at the sheets again.

It makes the trembling in my legs intensify, and I try to slump forward for a moment to catch my breath.

He isn’t done, hooking his hand lower to reach under me, past my asshole and towards my pussy. I can honestly say I paid no attention to what he chose to pack. I was too busy freaking out about dealing with Alastair again.

I should have checked.

My moans are loud, echoing off the walls when he uses the silicone band to hook over my clit.

It’s not elastic, more like a big ring that’s designated to stretch away from the plug and around to my clit to create pressure and sensitivity.

It’s firm against me, making my pussy come alive with the added pressure, and I try to remember what the hell this thing is.

We just got a new shipment of toys for the club right before we left Colorado. I think this is something Vinny took from the samples -

I shriek when the plug turns on, the vibration setting making the bar across my clit tingle as it bounces against the nerves. I snap my neck around to spot Vinny, eyeing the little remote.

“You’re going to wear it at the penitentiary,” he continues, and I can’t manage to form a response right now. “Even into one of those visiting rooms if they split us up again. If you get antsy or scared remember that I’m there with you.”

He means the plug. The toy stops vibrating and I moan, slouching into the sheets. He can turn that on at any time and make me see stars.

This is a nice twist. We haven’t used wearable toys in a while, and part of me truly doesn’t care if the vibration setting is quiet or not. Maybe I’ll have the pleasure of dealing with Sterling again and he can just watch as I come undone.

Focus, Jo.

Without the toy on I roll over and glare at Vinny. His shit eating grin tells me he has no shame over this. And while I glare at him, he gives me a one shoulder shrug and clicks a button again.

It turns the plug back on, and I arch against the feeling.

“There you are, Trauma,” he groans, and I watch him palm his cock through the grey sweatpants. He’s going to torture the both of us. “You can have one orgasm before we go. After that, you have to manage to be good until we arrive back at Emeric’s again. Then, I’ll fuck you any way you please.”