Masked Innocence

Forty-Three

Brad came back into the kitchen, the light not quite as bright in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He walked over and kissed me on the head. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “What do you feel like doing today?”

I looked at him, surprised. “What can we do today? Aren’t we under house arrest?”

“No. Your day will be free of danger. What do you feel like doing?”

“Well, at some point I’d like to discuss with you the whole situation we are in.”

He waved that off. “Other than that. I promise, we will sit down and discuss that.”

“Okay...I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to do laundry and stuff.”

He stared at me. “Laundry and...stuff?”

“Yeah, like ironing, grocery shopping. I have to get ready for work tomorrow morning.”

“First of all, we don’t know if you’re going to work tomorrow.”

I held up my hand, stopping the stupid list he was starting. “Wait—you mean because I might be dead tomorrow?”

“Well...you might be in danger.”

“Okay, so not dead yet. And the whole update-me-on-the-current-status-of-my-own-mortality conversation is something you just kinda...” I waved my hand dismissively. “...tossed aside as something that we will do later. Whether you and your manliness realize it or not, I’d like to have some sort of input in the plot for my survival.” I had sidled over to him during the course of my speech, and I ended the statement by poking his iron chest with my finger.

He grabbed my finger, his eyes dark. “Don’t do that.”

I fought a grin and yanked my hand out of his. We faced off in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, my expression stern, before he broke. Sighing, he wrapped his arms across my stiff body, pulling me to him for a hug.

It was an unexpected gesture, and I fought the embrace and stayed fixed, immobile, refusing to bend to his manly charm. He tried to wrap my arms around him, but they dropped, limp like spaghetti, unwilling to cooperate. He laughed at my stubbornness, his hands becoming playful, running through my hair, down my noncompliant arms, grabbing and squeezing my clenched butt. That broke me, and I smiled despite myself.

“There you go,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “I know that you want to know what’s going on. But all I can tell you is that you are safe. They have promised to stay away until I speak with them in the morning. And in the morning, I will play a card that they don’t expect, and one that they will have no recourse against. I promise you, it will be fine.”

“What, some secret body hidden somewhere? You’re going to blackmail them?”

He scowled at me. “Nothing so barbaric, Julia. I’m the good son, remember?” He held up a hand, stopping my thought process. “Just let me handle it. Please. I ask for one day of secrecy.”

“I thought we weren’t going to have any more secrets,” I grumbled into his chest. I didn’t like it, but twenty-four hours of freedom was more than I had fifteen minutes ago. I relaxed a bit in his arms.

“It’s a good secret. So, what do you want to do today, other than laundry or some other menial errand?”

I stood on my tiptoes and put my mouth on his earlobe, biting it gently, then releasing it and giving him a suggestive smile. He grinned down at me and then dipped me back, nibbling and kissing my neck. Then he threw me over his shoulder and bounded up the stairs.

“I’m leaving for the day!” Martha called, up the stairs to Brad’s retreating back. “You hear me?” Not getting a response, she shook her head, then wiped her hands on a dish towel, grabbed her purse and headed out the door, locking it securely behind her.

BRAD DEFTLY NAVIGATED through the broken pieces of his ex and threw me down onto soft sheets. He pulled my legs to him, grabbing the waist of my skirt and sliding it and my panties down, leaving me bare and exposed.

His mouth was instantly covering me, his tongue making incredible sensations that caused my toes to clench and my breath to catch. And when I came, five minutes later, it was intense, all of my tension and emotions spilling out, turning into delicious ecstasy and liquid, amazing pleasure.

He kept his mouth on me, gradually softening the pressure from his tongue, until he did nothing but hold me in his mouth, my body occasionally twitching in postorgasm aftershocks. When he did lift his mouth, I lay useless on the bed—drained of any coherent thought or muscle response. He grabbed my skirt, using it to wipe his mouth, and I frowned at him through my euphoria. He landed next to me, and I rolled over groggily, reaching for him, for his hardness.

He pushed me away, and I frowned at him. “Not now,” he said. “You can take care of me later.”

I pouted, but relented, watching him walk to the closet. “Have you decided what you want to do today?” he called, sifting through clothes.

“Got any well-hung friends?”

He glanced over, a grin on his face, and I stuck out my tongue playfully.

“I could certainly arrange that, if that is what you are in the mood for.” He emerged from the closet, dressed casually, pulling a baseball hat onto his head. Pressing me back onto the bed, he ran his teeth over my neck, nibbling on the soft skin until I giggled.

“Stop—seriously!” I pushed him off and propped myself up on one elbow. “Ummm...what about an afternoon movie?” I glanced at the clock.

He frowned, sitting next to me and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. “So, no afternoon gang bang?” Pulling out a watch, he slid it onto his wrist and fastened the buckle. Not waiting for a response, he leaned over, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before standing. “A movie sounds good to me. We can do some shopping and grab lunch first, if you want.”

The word shopping instantly perked me up. “That sounds good.” I rolled out of bed and grabbed the bag of clothes I had packed. I rummaged deep in the bag, finding my makeup pouch and my toothbrush. I grabbed both and joined Brad at the long counter, and we brushed our teeth in companionable silence.

“You ready?” he asked, after rinsing thoroughly.

“Five minutes,” I mumbled, through toothpaste bubbles.

He flashed a grin and headed downstairs. I flipped through the makeup bag, grabbing powder, mascara and lip gloss. Three minutes later, I stuck my phone in my pocket and bounded down the stairs.

Brad was on the phone, standing by the full-length windows that showcased the large backyard pool. Hearing my heels on the floor, he quickly ended the call and turned, whistling at my appearance. “You look great.”

“Great, but penniless. Can we stop by my house? Last time I was there, I didn’t grab my wallet.”

“You don’t need it.”

“That is so sugar daddy of you, but I like to have my wallet. That way I won’t feel guilty when I look at stuff. If you’re paying, I’ll refuse to look at anything and neither one of us will have any fun.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. But I am going to buy you some things, so go ahead and start getting used to the concept.”

“I didn’t say I won’t let you buy me stuff—just said I want my wallet also.” I grinned at him, sticking out my tongue and heading for the back door. He followed me, pressing the button for the garage doors, and we headed outside.

“Wait.” I grabbed his arm and he stopped, his car about to pull out onto his street. “Should we have a gun, or something? Some kind of protection?”

Brad pulled out, shaking his head at my question. “I do have a gun, in the center console, but I always have that there. No, we don’t need any protection today.”

The situation reminded me of a gun I had seen before, in the bathroom of his master suite. “So, you have two guns?”

He glanced over at me distractedly. “What? What do you mean?”

“I saw a gun in your house before, in the bathroom. And you said you always keep this one here, in the car. So you have two guns?”

He found my question amusing, and shook his head. “I’m not sure which gun you saw in my bathroom, but I probably have ten in the house, scattered about in different locations. Martha knows where they all are, as does Helga, who you still need to meet. I’ll have them show you the locations, just so you don’t accidentally knock one over at some point in time. Do you know how to shoot?”

I found that question amusing and grinned at him. “I grew up in south Georgia so, yes—I am well aware of how to shoot. Though I have more experience with shotguns and rifles than I do handguns. Why do you have so many?”

He shrugged. “I grew up in a house where guns were everywhere. If someone is going to come into my home to harm me, they are going to be armed. I’d like an even playing field.”

I nodded at that, my nerves still on edge. He glanced over, his eyes sharpening when they met mine. “Julia, relax. We are safe. One thing my family does is keep their word. You don’t have anything to worry about today.” He smiled at me and gripped my knee reassuringly.

Today. I sank into the soft leather, the contoured seat fitting my body perfectly. Yippee.