His hands draped to his sides, his voice becoming listless and his tongue heavy with grief. Justine’s impulse was to calm him, tell him he didn’t have to go on, but since he had started, she thought it better to get it out of his system. Maybe he had never talked to anyone other than family about what happened.
What had happened?
Darrius listened to her even breathing, not wanting to interrupt it with the story of a dead girl, a girl who will haunt him for the rest of his life. Somehow, talking of it relieved the tension in his soul. Spitting it out was the only remedy.
“Her body flew into the air and landed with a thud. I was powerless to break her fall, since I was already on the ground. The arena fell silent and there was only the stillness in the night until her sister screamed out and ran into the arena to hold the body of a girl who lost her life at my hands. My hands!”
The story hit Justine so hard she could feel his suffering in her own beating heart. Her hands cradled his, kissing them. “It was a mistake, Darrius.”
“I was careless.”
“You didn’t want it to happen.”
“Yet it did, and I still see her when I see my own face in the mirror—well, at least until you stepped into my life. All I see is you now. The very idea of losing someone, anyone, curdles my blood. I can’t lose anyone else to a tragedy.”
“You didn’t know her.”
“I didn’t have to. All I could do was watch her as they took her away on a stretcher. Her sister attacked me, pounding my arms, my chest, and all I could do was let her. I deserved it, and I felt if that was the only way for her to give me a little payback, then so be it. The police and security took the sister away. Moments later, a squad car came for me. My world spun around as fast as a spinning globe on some history channel.”
“They took you away? It was an accident, Darrius.”
“A girl died, Justine. It was a death, and I caused it. It…was murder.”
Justine faced him, trailed her hand across his cheeks, feeling the sweat caused by telling such a heart-wrenching tale. It didn’t seem real; seemed more like something on the Lifetime network—not the real life of a man, her lover.
Feeling his pain, she herself trembled as he continued. “There I was in some cell wearing black and white paint, a breechcloth, moccasins and handcuffs. My hat fell off at the arena, leaving its mark on the same spot where she lost her life. Her name was Asia, and she was nineteen years old.”
“How long were you there?”
“My father’s lawyers got me out two days later, but I’m still in prison, Justine, at least until I look at you.” His hands grazed the sides of her face, wiping tears away. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I hurt for you.”
Perplexed, he narrowed his eyes. “Why? This didn’t happen to you.”
“Don’t you dare say that! Somehow or other you bulldozed your way into my heart, and I can’t shake you. I feel what you feel, hurt along with you. I hear the pain in your voice, and it stabs at me, too.”
He kissed her lips. “I’m sorry, Justine. You’re the last person I want to hurt. That’s why I didn’t want to tell the story.”
“You had to, and you’ll feel better. Have you spoken of this to anyone since it happened?”
“Not really. Once the lawyers got me out of it, I kept it to myself. My family walked around on eggshells for a while when I was near. They didn’t know how to talk about it with me; I didn’t know how to with them. I sent her family cards, money, anything I could find that would make their heart lighter, but they returned everything to me—unopened. I couldn’t blame them. Asia was dead and I couldn’t resurrect her no matter how many visions I had. I’m just a man.”
“You’re more than a man.”
His arms tightened around her. “I’m glad you think so. Will you stay with me? Not run away?”
“I couldn’t leave you if I wanted to, but you have to forgive yourself, Darrius. That was eight years ago. I know the pain and memories will never go away, but you didn’t mean for it to happen. You were doing your job, entertaining a crowd. I know Asia forgives you.”
“So now you know why I don’t dance.”
He lifted the bottle and poured more wine. “Stay with me, right here, right now in the sanctity of this cave. Feeling your body next to mine takes me away, Justine. No woman has ever done this to me.” He finished his wine and lay back on the blanket.
She lay next to him and watched his reflection flickering against the candle-lit walls. Her body craved him, wanted him to fill her, overwhelm her with his strength and power, part her valley and climb steeper hills with her. His story only made her want him more, want to protect him, want to make him feel more like the man she knew he was.
They rested together, saying nothing, watching the images on the wall that were illuminated by his flashlight. Her hands smoothed up and down his shirt, relaxing brick-hard muscles covered by velvet skin. Not fighting the urge to taste him, she lifted the hem of his T-shirt, stretching it to his pecs. The will to lick his smooth skin awakened every fiber of her being—and she partook in loving, swirling licks, starting in the middle of his chest. Her tongue moistened his flesh, making a trail from his heart to the pucker of his navel, making his stomach rise and fall. Her trail continued to the band of his Jockeys, flicking her feverish tip around the perimeter.
His body tightened to her moves and alluring enticements. The rise in his pants quickly became more than arousal. He wanted her in every possible way. The more her tongue moved towards his hot, seething phallus, and finally conquering it with wet licks and caresses against the roughness of his jeans, the more he knew she was the woman to make his dreams come true, to make him finally trust himself, to finally allow himself to feel free to love another woman. He cupped her face, feeling her lips attacking the material, begging access.
He knew it was neither the time nor the place to truly make love to her. Guards were still in the general area, though he had access day and night—all night, if need be. What he really wanted was to lie with her, cuddle, feel good again without benefit of intercourse—if it was possible with a woman like Justine. Was it?
He tilted her face to his, whispering, “We can’t make love here. It’s not private enough.”
“I know it isn’t, but we can kiss, right?”
“We can kiss all night.”
“We can kiss everywhere, whatever we want, right?”
His thumbs massaged hardened nipples pressing against the sundress. “Let’s start with this.” His lips pressed against hers, opening wide to her, chasing her tongue, capturing it and mating—hard.
Justine felt the boiling point of his erection, and nothing could satisfy her more than satisfying him more. She slowly withdrew from him, lowering her hands past his shirt and belt and onto his zipper. Without words, she followed her need and unzipped the mountainous hurdle…taking what she wanted.
He sprang to life the minute she unleashed him. A hard, glistening shaft shown in the stillness of the cave, and Justine wrapped her hands around pleasure. Soft veins of virility throbbed against her palms, making her passage constrict with need, yet it was about him, only him, and she was there to please him that night. He’d done so much work moments ago, spilling his guts about a painful episode in his life. She was simply there to take away all thoughts of the terrible incident.
His salty tip pumped harder, swelling against her inner cheeks the deeper she took him. The smooth, easy strokes of her hungry mouth relieved him, made him wonder what he could have done to deserve her. Everything. He was the perfect man for her and in every sense of the word. Justine knew how to satisfy him, from the mere sound of her voice to pumping his shaft with hard, rugged strokes. Yes, she was the only woman who could take him from sad to happy all in one night.
The more deeply she went down on him, the tighter he got, feeling like pumping his seed nonstop. His sac tightened as her nails grazed it. And at the same time that very talented tongue stroked the underside of his erection, moving back to the tip, circling it. Double action, and he could barely stand not being in her, pumping in long, stiff strokes over again, feeling her hidden treasures as she covered him. He imagined being inside her, sliding against walls so wet and famished for him, spreading her thighs wide apart, gyrating in circular motions. His hips would vigorously rock against hers, and almost pull completely out before pushing right back in. He could feel his lips around her nipples, licking, flicking, sucking. God! He needed the release so badly, and with her—only her. Imagining rubbing his fingers across her labia, and then moving straight to the magic little button that set her body ablaze was what he lived for. She’d constrict around him, hold him tight and milk him into the hardest orgasm a man could have.
