Page 9 of Untouchable
Squeaking out a sound of surprise, Joss grips my shoulders tightly and presses harder into me as my tongue dives deep into her mouth. My hands have a mind of their own as they roam down her back to grip her hips and pick her up. Immediately, her legs wrap around me, and I cup her ass, pulling her closer.
“Braxton.” Her breathless gasp makes my burgeoning dick leak with want for her. One taste will never be enough. “We have an audience.” Her glazed eyes flick to the side, and I see a few women fanning their faces.
“Had to make it better than the book.” I nip at her jaw and feel a shiver pass through her body.
Pressing her forehead against mine, her smile reaches her eyes, and they light up beautifully as she tells me, “You succeeded.” Kissing my cheek, she whispers in my ear, “Last night, too.” I can’t stifle my groan. This woman could very well be my undoing, and I’d die one hell of a happy man for it.
“More tonight,” I promise her as the crowd lets out a clapping cheer. The blush working up Jossilyn’s chest, neck, and face has me craving to explore even more of her reactions to the filthy things I want to do to her.
“Well,” Ena smiles, “that was something else.” After taking a drink of water, she sits next to Joss, and asks, “Does anyone have any questions aboutOur Love Story?”
The requests pile in, but Joss only answers the ones about the book. Except to say, we’ve been apart for years, and she didn’t think we’d ever meet again, and that’s how the book was born. Not everyone gets their few minutes with her, but she stays to sign everyone’s books, even past the time this was supposed to end.
I can admire her dedication, but the longer she stays, the more I see it draining her. Not just physically, either, but mentally. By the time Ena finishes ushering everyone out the door, Joss is sagging against me and can barely keep her eyes open.
“We got everything here. Tru is already at the hotel, scoping her room out. Why don’t you take her back to rest?” Porter says as he watches me pick up his little sister. “I always knew she would be amazing, never dreamed she’d be famous.”
“Night, Porter.” Nodding at the man, I head out the back to where Joss’ driver is and climb in the back with her. The hotel is close, so it only takes minutes, and by the time we’re back in her room, Trusen has ordered some finger foods for her and has bottles of water all over the room so she doesn’t have to search them out.
“You’re good for her,” he tells me as I set her sleeping body in bed and take off her shoes. “Joss has kept everything bottled up for years. She’s been fighting the demons of our family for so long that I don’t think she knows what it means to live without the burden.” Christ, that’s all too easy to believe.
“What about you? And Porter?” I look back at the younger man. From what I remember, the brothers were slightly better off than the sisters, but not by much.
“We cope. We have learned to live with the fallout of that time of our lives. Joss hid; though, you know that. Sage has that big family. Port and I have always had each other, but Joss has remained in her own world, never getting too close to anyone. Not even Magnolia.”
“I’ve got her now, Tru. I will help her heal because I think you’re right, she’s only buried that life deep down and hasn’t dealt with what happened to her.” As we watch her, I notice the moment the nightmares attack as her face screws up and her body tenses. Even in sleep, she doesn’t get a moment of peace.
CHAPTER7
Jossilyn
Cowering in the corner, cold sandstone at my back and damp dirt under my bare feet, I wait. For him, for punishment, for death. I’m never sure which one is coming for me when I get locked down here, deep beneath the surface of the Lord’s house.
I hear the faint echoes of my father’s sermon as he winds down his final prayer. Speaking of disobedience and self-will. How the men have to take control of their women. How the women must obey the men of the community, even if they aren’t their husbands. And the children…they must forever remain silent and do as they’re told.
Days ago, I was supposed to muck out the stables, but instead, I wanted to brush and wash the horses and work in the gardens, leaving some of the other girls to do my job in my absence. They said it was fine; there were six of them, so I could do what I wanted to.
They lied. Forgetting that lying is a sin, apparently, but I’m the one being punished.
At least it’s not the pond of snakes.
I shudder just thinking about that. I’ve seen one too many women forced into the murky depths and come back out in a state of terror that they sometimes never recover from.
“Joss!” My little sister Sage’s voice echoes from the latched doors at the top of the stairs. “Catch this!” I notice a gap as she lifts the door slightly and tosses something wrapped in brown paper down the stairs. “Eat. You have to eat,” she whispers before I hear her steps rushing away.
Sage has always been the rebel. She doesn’t conform to what my father wants, and it drives the man crazy because he can’t control her.
I’ve just turned eighteen, and the control the man has on me has tightened since the milestone. I spend more and more time with the elder women or locked in confession or, like now, cast away in the dungeons like a common criminal because I was doing work that would have to be done anyway.
I know that he’s looking for a suitable husband for me. Hoping for a man who can repress my newly found impulses and punish me in a manner which won’t leave any visible signs. I overheard him speaking to Mother about my beauty. About how I couldn’t go to just any man because who he chooses for me will have to be able to show great restraint so I remain unscarred. I’m a rare beauty, according to him.
Sage and I are so similar in looks, with our pale-as-snow hair and icy-blue eyes. A rare commodity in our community. Or so he says. I’m sure there are other white-haired women in the world; we can’t be the only ones.
It doesn’t matter, however, because either way, I won’t get to choose my own husband, my own life. I won’t get to see the world. I’ll be forced to serve the man whom I join in marriage—a man who quite likely will treat me as nothing more than property.
I’m locked down here for another six days before Father comes for me. Sage hasn’t been able to sneak me more food, so she must have been caught the first time and is likely locked in our shared room at home.
“Are you ready to ask forgiveness?” Father’s voice is cold and menacing. He’s grown meaner over the years. Hardly recognizable from the man who taught me to saddle a horse.