Page 101 of Petty's Crime

Hell, I’ve got the woman I’ve been fantasising about on her knees in front of me. What man could blame me for not lasting long? Familiar tingles start to make their way down my spine and my balls grow heavy.

“I’m going to come,” I cry out to warn her.

But she stays where she is, and when I blow, she takes every damn drop that I give her. I’m drained dry when the pulses fade, and my fucking legs feel like they’re going to give way. I breathe in deep in post-orgasmic pleasure, only to buckle as I’d forgotten the state of my ribs, and that I really must breathe shallowly.

“Oh fuck,” I exclaim.

She realises what’s wrong immediately, turning off the shower and placing a towel around me. I should feel emasculated as she dries me off and leads me to the bed where I collapse on the sheets. But because it’s her, because she’s staring at me with such soft emotion on her face, I realise she’s getting pleasure from caring for me. Britney would have jumped on any sign of weakness and mocked me.

There’s no way in which these two women are the same.

I watch avidly as she dries herself, then, when she comes to the bed naked and aligns her body with mine, I manage to get my arm around her and draw her into me.

“You used to intimidate me,” I admit.

“Me?” She snorts.

“Britney did a real number on me.” I nuzzle my lips against her neck. “I saw you, an independent woman, and it scared the fuck out of me. I thought you were the type to take a man’s balls, and carry them in your purse.”

“Ew.” She chuckles. “I assure you I don’t want to emasculate you and carry that particular part around.” Before I have the chance to laugh, her voice becomes serious. “I know Britney fucked you up, but she’s one of a kind. Oh, I know there are others like her, and men, like you, who stay silent because they think because they’re a man, they can’t be abused.” She pauses. “What’s going to happen to her? And to Elton and Thorne?”

I roll onto my back, ignoring the question of my soon-to-be ex-wife, as I really have no idea what I’d be able to do. Even though she hurt me, and tried to get me kicked out of the club, ignoring the possibility she could’ve gotten me killed, the thought of hurting her makes my stomach roil. So I turn the tables. “What about Thorne?”

If my intention had been to switch off our post-orgasmic glow, I’d done so by bringing that fucker into our bed.

She’s quiet for a while, considering the issue for herself, and it’s a few minutes before she imparts, “I want to know the truth. And for that I’ve got to speak to my parents. Even the thought I’m adopted means they’ve been lying to me all my life.” Her hand comes into mine, holding tight as though she needs an anchor. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You feel anything for Thorne?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe I’ve got a twin. Surely there should be some connection between us? Don’t studies show twins who are raised apart go on to live similar lives?”

While that of hers and that prick couldn’t be further apart. She’s made something of herself, while he let his resentment fester. Then, she had the benefit of a loving family to support her, which, by all accounts, is very far from what he had.

When she yawns, I remember the fuckup of the day that she’s had, all the information piled upon her, along with the fear of being kidnapped. I tense as I recall the horror that I’d felt when I heard she’d been taken, and thank whatever deity exists that somehow she’s been brought back to me. Having pulled my head out of my ass, I now have her in my arms. Arms, which, if I have my way, will hold her forever.

There’s a fuckload of deep things we need to talk about, but now’s not the time. She needs to recuperate mentally, and fuck knows I’ve stretched my body beyond tolerance today.

“Petty…”

“Shush,” I admonish her. “Try to sleep, darlin’.”

“Can I just ask one thing? Would you like me to call you Clark?”

The idea makes me recoil inwardly. “I was Clark to Britney.”

She squeezes my hand, letting me know she understands. Then, as she turns and lays her head on my chest, I start to stroke her hair rhythmically, and gradually her breathing evens out. Before too long, she’s sleeping.

It’s not unexpected when a nightmare wakes her up in the small hours. To be honest, she’d woken me from one of my own. But I hold her as tight as she holds me, and we allow sleep to again take us under.

Sometime early in the morning, I fall into a deep sleep, only to be woken by a banging on the door.

Glancing at my phone, I see it’s only just gone on seven.What the fuck?“Go the fuck away,” I call out.

“Petty, get your ass up. There’s someone here to see RoseLyn.” Owl, the prospect, yells.

At this time in the morning? But the noise has woken the woman at my side. “Who is it?”

I’m no clairvoyant, and won’t know until I ask. “Who the fuck is it, Owl?” I shout.

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