The rain is now falling at a steady beat but I refuse to leave my little girl’s grave. With my finger, I trace over the name Amity, which has been delicately engraved into the headstone by my husband, himself. The rain does well to disguise the tears that flow freely down my face, as I lie on the ground beside the headstone. I have an incredible longing to hold my precious child once more. Amity’s death was an unnecessary crime, committed at the hand of someone I had loved very much and someone I never suspected had such darkness inside. Although Edmund is buried on our property, Amity was laid to rest at the local churchyard surrounded by our family and friends. She was loved by everyone and had the unique ability to lift anybody’s spirits with just her presence. 

James and I have suffered so much heartache in the past two weeks, I don’t know if I can find the strength to stand up and make the long dreary walk home. As the rain soaks through my clothing, I can feel the cold penetrating my skin and I start to shiver uncontrollably. My eyelids feel heavy and I suspect that it is a result of all the sleepless nights I have been experiencing. All I need is just a little nap and I will feel better…

 

 

 

“There’s like a hundred buttons. I’ll never get this dress off you. Whoever made this dress certainly didn’t have the events that occur at the culmination of a wedding in mind.” 

“Just think of it as unwrapping a present. Your growing anticipation as you become closer to discovering the treasure that lies within the layers you are unwrapping.” I can feel James press his lips down my spine as each button is released, causing a shiver to run through my body.

“Mmmmm, a present, I like that and just so you’re aware… something’s growing all right but it’s not my anticipation.” James whispers into my ear, his lips so close I can feel his breath tickling against my face. I almost melted into a puddle at James’s feet. I’m not even sure my legs will be able to hold me up much longer because his words made me weak with longing. James presses into my back and I can feel his erection, hard and eager to be touched. It’s impossible for me to stop myself from reaching behind me to grasp him in my fist.
Standing back, James pushes my hand away. “You’ve already unwrapped your present, it isn’t proper etiquette to play with your gift before the other guest unwraps theirs.” I let out a low growl of frustration, which James evidently finds amusing if his laughter is any indicator.

 

 

 

Little did James realize the impact opening the letter would have on his life. The letter his dead father left for him to find

Family secrets that have remained buried for over two decades surface, leaving James floundering and wondering what to do.

Certain events that unfold has James questioning the accuracy of his father’s letter. Will James finally find the answers he needs to bury the family secrets once and for all or will he uncover more than he bargained for?

As the sun moves to its most radiant spot in the sky the warmth softens the earth beneath our feet. We continue to take turns in silence, and with each shovelful of earth, my apprehension grows. When I’m not shoveling, I am pacing the forest floor, in an attempt to get rid of the pent-up energy that is humming through my body. When that doesn’t work, I was begin breaking sticks from fallen branches. 

“James, I think I found something,” Benjamin says quietly. My head whips in his direction, my heartbeat racing in my chest. I take a deep breath and head over to the hole. Looking down, I can see what Benjamin is referencing. There is a wooden box at the bottom of the hole. It’s not very big, but it wouldn’t have to be for a small child. I take the shovel and start digging around the perimeter of the box to make it more accessible. I can’t seem to shovel fast enough, and I don’t stop, even when my arms are screaming and shaking with fatigue. The lid is sealed tightly, so I start working away at it with the shovel, each stroke splintering the wood a little more. I start yanking the pieces of wood off the box, cutting my hands in the process. Benjamin gets in the hole with me and starts helping me. By the time we’ve cleared away the wood from the top of the box I can barely close my hands, that’s how mangled they are, but I don’t feel the pain anymore. I am holding my breath and it is silent aside from the sound of my heart beating anxiously. I peer into the box and it’s empty. I start to sob and I can’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I walk over to my stereo and press play. Linkin Park’s, “Breaking the Habit” breaks the silence. I sit on the carpeted floor and with shaky hands, I carefully pull the cloth away from the instrument of pain nestled inside.


 Tears sting my eyes and I can feel my heart rate accelerate … Is it fear? Adrenaline? Or is it the trepidation of giving into my craving … my addiction. I run my finger along its surface feeling the urge start to take a stronger hold and my resolve is fading fast. Taking the x-acto knife in my hand, I submit to the addiction. I run the tip of my finger along the edge of the fresh blade and watch in fascination as blood starts to drip and land on the carpet. Pressing the blade against my inner arm I add enough pressure that the tip cuts into my skin. A euphoric feeling floods my body as the blade cuts deeper and the emotional pain is no longer there. The anger of the music speaks to me, consumes me… I hate my life, I hate the way I look, I can’t do anything right, no wonder no one wants me, I no longer want to feel…. I press down on the blade a little bit harder. Looking towards the ceiling, I plead once again with God. “Please let me die. Why won’t you listen to me? I am begging you to end my misery. I have nothing to live for!” My grip on the blade slips and I realize it’s from the blood covering the handle. So much blood… I feel woozy as I look at the open wound on my arm. I am unable to see how bad it really is because of the blood that continues to weep from the wound. The rivulets of blood painting a trail along my arm, bears a striking resemblance to tears… it’s my soul weeping for me. With each beat of my heart I can feel my soul fading.


 What have I done? I’ve never cut this deep before. Stumbling to the bathroom, I push my way through the darkness that is starting to cloud my vision. I can’t pass out… I can’t pass out. I now have a new focus and it’s to slow down the bleeding. I lean on the bathroom counter for support, resting my bloodied hands on the surface. Looking into the mirror I am terrified at the person staring back at me. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m lost in the maze of life and have yet to find the exit. It seems at every turn there’s a dead end, and with each wall I meet my sense of hope diminishes. My blood covered hands make it almost impossible to get a grip on the knob to the linen closet but through the use of both hands I manage to open the door and grab a towel from the shelf. I slide my back down the bathroom wall and after haphazardly wrapping the towel around my arm; I lay on the mat that lies beside the counter and close my eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

I start to turn back to the front of the lecture hall to listen to the professor when a paper missile comes flying at my head. It bounces off my face and lands on my notebook. Opening it up I recognize Michelle’s writing right away.


Kings of Leon – Sex is on Fire


Now I’m adjusting myself. How am I supposed to focus after a note like that? Brody is snickering beside me. It’s quite obvious he must have read the note over my shoulder. I lean my head on the back of the seat, take deep cleansing breaths and think about naked, wrinkly old ladies. I shudder at the thought but it worked. I’m now back in the zone… the learning mode. Although I would like to be in another zone…like Michelle’s erogenous zone…between her legs…sinking into her hot, wet core…Oh crap…naked wrinkly old ladies…naked wrinkly old ladies.


I turn the piece of paper over and write…


Baby I’ll treat you like my homework – I’ll slam you on the table and do you all night long. 


I bunch the note up once again and toss it over Michelle’s shoulder. Jenni reaches down to pick it up and as she starts opening the paper up Michelle grabs it out of her hand and shakes her head playfully. She opens the paper and after reading what I wrote she tosses her head back and silently laughs, her shoulders shaking. She peeks at me over her shoulder and winks.
And back to my mantra I go… naked wrinkly old ladies…naked wrinkly old ladies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Michelle turns her back towards me and drops her towel to the floor. I lick my lips as I take in every delicious curve of her body. She peeks over her shoulder and crooks her finger in a “come and get it” kind of way. Of course, it was a very hard decision to make… NOT… and I follow her like a lost puppy dog, or maybe it was a hungry dog… but before I follow her, I grab the bowl of whipped cream.


I set the bowl of whipped cream on the bed, and Michelle’s eyebrows lift up in amusement, her eyes unable to hide the desire burning in them. Pointing at the bowl she says, “Are you hungry?”


“Uh-huh. I want my dessert.” I cup the back of her neck and I slant my mouth over hers, luxuriating in the softness of her lips moving against mine. Before I pull away, I gently bite her lip. My hand cups her breast and my thumb caresses her already turgid nipple. Leaning down, I take her nipple in my mouth and using my tongue I circle it, my cock growing even harder when I hear her moan. I gently ease her back on the bed, and grabbing a spoonful of whipped cream, I cover her nipples with it. I lap the sugary cream off her nipples, and follow the white dessert laden trail to the landing strip that so adequately points me in the direction of where I must go. Picking up the spoon, I paint her hot core with more dessert topping. Running my tongue along the folds of her pussy, I swirl the tip of my tongue around her clit.


“Oh god, Jax that feels so good. Is dessert to your liking?” She speaks to me in a husky voice.


“Oh yeah, baby. You taste so good.” I place Michelle’s legs over my shoulder and continue to lap at her hot center, absorbing the sounds of her quickening breath and groans of pleasure. My cock is as hard as granite and pushing against the fabric binding it.


“Jaxon!” Michelle screams my name as an orgasm rips through her body.


I’m shaking with pent up sexual energy. I have to be buried in her right now. I reach my hand out to help Michelle up from the bed. She complies, but her eyebrows are scrunched with confusion. I turn her around so she’s bent over with her hands resting on the bed. My lips brush along her spine.


“Is this okay?” I wait for her to grant me permission. This is my favorite position, and at one time hers as well, but I never want to do anything that would make her feel uncomfortable or scared.


“Yes.” Her voice is trembling but I don’t think its fear, but rather desire.


“Are you sure?” I ask again.


“Jax if you don’t fuck me right now then… I don’t know what I’d do, just do it already.” She almost growls with frustration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fall brought cooler weather, and with it, nature’s kaleidoscope of colors. The trees shed their greenery and displayed glorious shades of red, yellow, and orange. You could almost taste the pumpkin spice in the air. It had always been my favorite time of the year, but now I found myself resenting the cooler weather. The change in seasons meant Jesse had to work more for his landscaping job, clearing away fallen branches and leaves before they became hazards for drivers and pedestrians alike. I missed him during the long hours he was away. I tried to make the best of it, though.

Our very active sex life was great inspiration for the hot scenes in my book. We were compatible in the bedroom in so many ways. Neither of us ever shied away from trying new things in bed, and it was fun vying for who would take control. Each time we were together, it was a new experience, an adventure. Finding my sexual equal was both refreshing and liberating.

“I’m under your spell. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I just can’t stay away from you.” His words spoke directly to my heart. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach; something I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager. Things with Jesse felt like they were perfect, almost too good to be true. I was a little afraid to pinch myself for fear I’d wake up and find it had all been a dream. I knew I had a history of falling in love too quickly, though, so I was a little afraid of letting myself really relax and let him in. After everything I’d been through, what if I ended up jinxing things?

“If there’s magic involved, I’m consumed by it, too. I feel the exact same way.” Every waking minute, it seemed, my thoughts were on him. I’d remember how I felt when he’d hold me, when he kissed me. When I was alone, my thoughts traveled to his gentle touches and caresses when we’d make love. When we were apart, time couldn’t seem to move fast enough until we could be back in each other’s arms, and that thought was terrifying. I loved and I feared my body and mind’s reactions to him. He made me vulnerable. He made me hope. We were headed for the kind of love you only see in romance novels, but I knew I was giving him the power to crush me if he chose. Love was always a risk, but the reward was worth it if you found the right one. I’d just never dared to dream that it could happen to me.

“When I get off work, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Oh? Where are we going?”

“Hmm… well, I could tell you, but I think it would be more fun to surprise you.”

I giggled. “Give me a hint?”

“Nope.”

I stuck my lower lip out, though I knew he couldn’t see it over the phone. “Come on! You have all this work stuff keeping you busy all day, but now I won’t be able to write because I’ll be crazy with curiosity.”

“You know, you’re adorable when you pout.” I could hear his smile through the phone. 

“Bring a sweater. I have to go, Babe. See you soon.”

 

 

 

 

 

Melissa lives in the Great White North in her spacious igloo with her two daughters, one of which is a mermaid, the other a unicorn. When she is not writing, she is riding her moose and wrestling with her polar bear. Due to the demand of her books, she was forced to train her hamsters to guard her home, as she typed out what the crazy voices in her head demanded. 

She’s an avid supporter of World Wildlife Fund and makes an effort to involve herself as well as her family in fundraising campaigns for various charities. Melissa has an Employment Counsellor Diploma from Fleming College, but she prefers writing stories over resumes
Presently she has eleven books published in a variety of genres, which include Poetry, Historical, Contemporary, and Suspense Romance.