average human’s Reviews > Visions > Status Update

Gripping the clothing, I jump back into the shower and close the curtain.
“I’ve already seen you naked, Vanessa. It’s only a matter of time before I mark you as mine and ravage your flesh.” I swear I can picture him blowing on his nails and brushing them off as he speaks.
Like hell. Just when I think we’ve gotten somewhere, he opens his mouth and arrogance falls out. Not even his good looks can make up for his attitude.
Yet I still find him appealing. The thought of him claiming me and making me his flushes my skin with obvious desire.
Pim chose death over claiming me.
Greyson wants me to come to him with my whole heart and a promise of forever.
Hades…well, I don’t know what the hell he wants.
With Apollo, it’s almost refreshing when he speaks, as though he knows he will have me. The only pesky problem is he wants me all to himself, and I’m not about to give it to him.
I jerk on my panties over my damp skin, having to adjust them properly when they stick.
“So your biological mother cut you from her belly. It takes a strong-willed woman to do that.” He sounds almost appreciative.
“Or insane,” I mumble.
“You’ll have to ask them for more details, it isn’t much to go on. However, burying yourself alive is new,” he scoffs.
I secure the straps of my romper and rip the curtain open, glaring at him. “You will have to excuse me, I went searching for a worm in the desert and fell in a hole,” I whisper to him as rage clings to my tone.
“You are delicious when you’re angry.” His palms rest on the counter, and I swear it’s almost like he is here. I nearly didn’t believe him when he said he wasn’t. Wearing nothing but jeans, he’s more surfer boy than a brooding god, with his wild curls hanging around his head like a halo.
“Out.” I point at the door, although he isn’t here and all my fingers want to do is see if those curls are as soft as they look.
“Not quite, Cupcake. The magical signature was yours or something very similar to it. You buried yourself alive, crumpet.”
“Cupcake.”
“No to crumpet?”
“What is with the pastry references?”
“Come on now, Vanessa, I already told you. It is because I want to devour you.”
I wave my hand at him in dismissal. To my surprise, his appearance wavers and flickers before fading out entirely.
Unfortunately, he whispers, You can’t get rid of me that easily, inside my head.
One time, one time he entered my mind, and now I can’t get rid of him. He’s like those door-to-door salesmen.
Do these salesmen want you? he growls with jealousy, not understanding there isn’t actually someone at the door.
Not even my thoughts are sacred.
I told you, Vanessa, you belong to me. Nothing is sacred to you anymore. For all the arrogance.
I imagine kneeing him in the balls, and pure satisfaction rolls through me at his groan. However, as my hand lands on the doorknob, I realize he succeeded in distracting me enough to allow me to process what my moms told me.
Devious sun god.
I open the door, finding my moms huddled over a little kitchen table with bags of takeout from the diner—including a foam cup full of what I hope is a strawberry milkshake. Beside it sits a brand-new bag of the same flavor lollipops.
A peace offering. One that they shouldn’t feel they need.
“I’m sorry.” The words are heavy on my tongue, and their heads swivel to look at me. Mom with her deep brown gaze, and Mama with her hazel one. Both are sad and hurt, and guilt eats at me. I caused that pain. They stand to come to me, but I hold up a hand, knowing I have to get these words out before they rush me. “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset at the idea that my birth giver” —I swear I hear Apollo chuckle in my head— “didn’t want me.”
“Oh, cherub. I don’t believe that, and I never will.” Mom is the first to approach me, pressing a kiss to my forehead before giving me a quick squeeze. “Come on, there’s a milkshake.”
I note she doesn’t give me any more kind words or ease my feelings. That’s not their way. They won’t give me pretty illusions of a woman willing to cut her own child from her womb. Mom doesn’t play that game.
“Thanks.” I walk over and grab the cup from Mama before giving her a peck on the cheek. “So any other bombs you want to drop?” I say it teasingly, but by the way they look at each other, I know there’s more. I take a long pull from my milkshake and gather my courage. “Spill.”
“May as well come completely clean,” Mama mutters as she squeezes Mom’s hand in encouragement. “When Pim died…”
“You went supernova.”
Giving her a slow blink, I sip my milkshake.
“As the officers said, when Pim jumped off the platform, you screamed and then you shook. The entire station shook.” Mom pulls food containers from the brown paper bag as she speaks. She places one in front of me, and I wonder just what Daisy gave me today. “He claimed it was just an earthquake, but we knew better.”
“How?” I frown as I open the lid to find a note written in pen on the inside of the box.
No mere spaghetti today, my darling friend. Today, we have the blood and guts of those who merely looked at you, torn to shreds by your fingernails. XOXO Daisy.
Mama reads the note before shaking her head and sitting back down to her food. “She is a strange character.”
“I like her.” Mom pops a fry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“So that’s it. An earthquake?” I open my packet of silverware and then the salt and pepper, pretending it’s the ashes of people I’ve roasted over a fire and ground down for spices.
Maybe Daisy was onto something. I may very well be just as insane as my biological mother.
“Fires,” Mama blurts, casting a glance at Mom. “Little fires erupted all over the station, and when they took you out, they stopped. Claimed it was an electrical issue.” Mama snorts. “No, just my baby with a broken heart.”
My palms turn clammy, and I look at them, my food forgotten for a moment. “My apartment burned down.”
“We saw.” Mom’s monotone voice is less than enthused. I can’t say I blame her one bit.
“I don’t remember any of this.” I worry my bottom lip as I look to them for the kind of assurance only a parent can offer.
“You were out of your mind with grief, Vanessa.”
“Inconsolable,” Mama adds.
“Wish I could remember.”
“Well…” Mom unwraps her burger. “If he didn’t die that day, I’d kill him for what he did to you.”
Mama sits across the table, nodding her agreement.
“About that…” I swirl my bread through my sauce and take a tentative bite.
How do you tell your parents you can see the dead? I mean, honestly, they found me buried in the desert. Will this even shock them? Doubtful.
“Pim isn’t dead, dead.”
My moms look at me with twin frowns, but it’s Mom who reacts first. “Elaborate.”
“I can see him,” I say carefully, and somehow, I feel like I’m fifteen again and they caught me sneaking out of the house. It isn’t a feeling I enjoyed then, and it isn’t one I enjoy now.
“It’s worse than we thought.” Mama reaches for Mom’s hand.
“I won’t have her committed.” Mom’s dark brows lower.
Rolling my eyes, I take an angry bite of my bread. “I’m serious,” I grumble.
“Darling.”
“Cherub.”
Once more, they look at each other with that all-knowing parental look, the one that screams that they aren’t completely buying what I’m saying, but they are about to agree with me just because that’s what parents do.
“Fine. A demonstration it is.” Not hungry anymore, I pack up my food sans the bread and stuff it into the mini fridge.
With a hesitant sigh, Mom packs up her food, however Mama grabs hers to go. Triumphant, I open the door to…Greyson.
He takes me in from head to toe, seeing me clean for the first time in days. His ocean blue eyes scan me with appreciation. Wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a short-sleeved button-down, and holding—I kid you not—a real cowboy hat in his hands, he looks delicious enough to gobble up.
It’s a damn shame Mama peers over my shoulder. “Greyson,” she coos.
I don’t ask how she knows it’s him because my reaction is incredibly telling. My cheeks flush with heat that burns straight to my soul, where my inner diva sits up and takes notice.
“Rain check on that demonstration,” I whisper to my moms as Greyson steals all of my attention. I feel like a teen again, falling in love for the first time. While that thought should scare me, being buried alive changes a girl.
“Little dragon.” Those kissable lips kick up into a half-smile, and his fingers wrap around his hat, keeping him from reaching out to me. I wouldn’t mind on any other occasion, but my moms are watching, and this is getting awkward because we are just standing here staring at each other.
“Greyson.” Mom moves me out of the way, and I rip a piece of bread off my loaf and pop it in my mouth to hide the drool.
In the eight months I’ve lived here, I’ve only ever seen Greyson in two outfits—jeans and a shirt, or those faded yellow overalls. This is a whole new side that has my body lighting up and my soul crying out to claim him.
My resolve weakens. Why am I fighting this?
Oh yeah, the weirdness that keeps surrounding me. It’s fine, everything is fine.
“Ma’am.” Oh, he’s smooth. He even does a little head tilt that makes my mom smile in appreciation and lick her lips.
“You are a happily married lesbian.” Who is acting like a lovestruck fool.
“I can appreciate a good-looking boy for my girl,” Mom retorts, not taking her eyes off Greyson. I understand because I’m having a hard time looking away myself.
“Vanessa,” Mama coos, and I know she’s up to something, or she already did something.
I eye Greyson suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

78%

Greyson chuckles. “That is taking that trust and throwing it out the window.”
“Hush, this isn’t about my moms, it’s about me getting off.”
“Who am I to take away a woman’s orgasm? Please continue.”
“So I brought Pim to the hotel room. I did all the things that my teen magazine said to do. Got sparkling cider, non-alcoholic of course.” It wasn’t. “Chocolate covered strawberries, cheese platter, meats.”
“I knew what she was doing, but I was older than her.” Pim’s thumb still circles over my bare shoulder in teasing little strokes that send electricity through my body. “She was only seventeen.”
“How old were you when you died?” Greyson asks. It’s the same question I’ve asked Pim a hundred times.
I laugh. “He won’t tell you.”
“That’s weird.” Greyson shifts in his seat, and I can see suspicion creep across his face as his eyes flick to the rearview mirror.
“Does it matter? I’m dead.” Pim’s flippant words don’t disguise the hurt in them—but hurt for whom? Me or him? I’m merely curious about his age, and having him refuse to tell me hurts him more than me. Or that’s what I tell myself.
“Anyway, he walked into the little room, saw the candles and the rose petals, and damn near ran out. I had to beg him to stay with me.” I don’t share about the rope I hid under the bed just in case it didn’t go my way. Or the chloroform stashed in the mini fridge. A girl had to come prepared.
I wouldn’t have used it, that’s frowned upon. I simply would have knocked him out, tied him up, and pleaded my case.
“Your mom would have arrested me for rape.”
“She would not.” Except I’m not completely sure of that one.
“She would. I only met her for a few minutes, but I could see your mom taking him down and booking him just because he looked at her wrong.” Greyson finds amusement in my mom’s tough as nails attitude, but he didn’t have to grow up with her like I did.
I didn’t get away with anything, but she didn’t really punish me either, just gave me that disappointed mom sigh.
“Enough about my moms, it’s making the story weird. Do you want to hear about the orgasm or not?” It doesn’t sound like they want to hear about my orgasm.
“Aw, you huff like Elliot when you’re mad,” Pim teases. “Are your eyes gold?”
“I swear, Pim, I’ll let him bite you again, and next time, I’ll hold your hand until the venom threatens you with a second death.” I utter the warning with as much vehemence as possible.
“And bloodthirsty. So we’re sticking with that, I see. Don’t worry, I like it.” Pim taps my shoulder, and I snap at his fingers.
“You two made this weird.” I cross my arms under my breasts in irritation as cacti rise like a forest beyond the windshield.
“I have a better idea,” Pim whispers in my ear. “Why don’t I show Greyson how I made you scream my name and curse like a dirty whore.”
My. Blood. Heats.
I close my eyes on a moan and shiver while clenching my hands against the fabric of my outfit. I can feel wetness increase between my thighs, and all from the rumble of his voice and the words he speaks with such promise. An ache spreads through me, demanding one of them fills it.
When the car slows to a stop, I open my eyes to a tiny gray house in the middle of the desert. Twinkle lights decorate the cacti like Christmas décor, while chairs rest in a circle around a fire pit.
“I did not have that in mind bringing you out here, but, ah…” Greyson’s cheeks flame. “I’m not opposed to it.”
“Open her door, cowboy. It’s been eight years since I’ve heard her scream, and I won’t deny myself any longer.”
“Yeah, just don’t call me cowboy again.” Greyson hops out, his door opening on a groan.
“Pim.” I spin in my seat, searching his eyes while my body trembles with unfulfilled desire. I’m barely holding on to my sanity, and I look at him with the one question I need answered before this goes any further.
He cradles my face in his hands, bringing his lips so close, and yet a chasm of many unanswered questions sits between us. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Then say it.”
“I owe you so many answers, and I know you won’t give yourself over to me heart and soul until you have them, even though you own my heart. And before you know it, you will own my soul as well. But, Vanessa, forget about who we were if you can.” He leans in, brushing his lips across mine. “And imagine what we can be.”
I don’t allow him to kiss me, instead drawing back, even as my body protests the action. My soul screams in denial, wanting all of him, and I have to convince my muscles to move. My door creaks open, and I turn to Greyson, who kneels before me, ready to ease my pain. Pim has a lot to make up for, but Greyson… No matter who he was in the past, I know who he is now.
I’m not a fan of this plan, Apollo complains.
I hope you can get off wherever you are, because I’m about to, I retort.
“Greyson.” I grab his shirt and rip until the buttons scatter over the desert, the sand swallowing them whole.
He swallows, his eyes becoming heavy-lidded. “Yeah.” His answer is guttural.
“Make me scream.”
In his indecision, he braces his hands beside me on the dark leather seat, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he wants. His lips crash onto mine, sloppy and full of teeth, our desperation for one another surging between us. This is what I crave, this is what I need and want. Passion without restraint, without worry of what tomorrow may bring and what the past held before us. It is only him and me, and how our tongues duel where we join.
The coil of flame within me flickers with interest, rising with caution to peek at the deep emotions I’m feeling. It’s curious yet hesitant that I may push it down and tether it to the darkest recesses of my soul.
But I’m tired of holding back.
I’m tired of denying myself what I want, what we both want.
Right now, I want Greyson with every fiber of my being, so instead of allowing that flame to sit on the sidelines, I rip it forth and embrace the heat.
I throw my body at Greyson, who catches me and lifts me from the car, his lips devouring mine in a claiming kiss. With each brush of his lips, my walls come crumbling down and pure lust takes over. I nip him playfully as he continues to carry me, never once allowing his mouth to part from mine.
My back presses against the warmth of the house, and I wrap my legs around his hips and grind myself against his erection. My body tingles and surges with heat, and I welcome every single lick of flame.
I press upwards, getting as close to Greyson as I can, refusing to allow him to pull back and break the kiss. I hold his head in place, sliding my free hand down his body. My fingertips memorize every contour and line they pass, and his nipple hardens under my nail as I swipe over it again and again until he moans my name.
Fire surges within me, brighter and hotter than ever before. I can’t grasp the need inside me, and my focus breaks when Greyson moves me away from the door and breaks the kiss with panting breaths.
He releases me and pulls a key from his pocket. Pim stands beside him, his flushed face hidden beneath his beard. His chest rises and falls, and with hooded eyes, I meet his dilated ones. Watching him watch me, I dart my tongue out to lick Greyson’s chest, flicking over a nipple once again. Beneath my palm, his body shudders and contracts.
There’s power in touch, and I intend to touch until these men are nothing more than begging puddles at my feet.
“Inside. Now.” Greyson pushes the door open, and cool air spills out to caress my overheated skin.
Stepping back, I slip off my flip-flops, taking in both men with hungry eyes.
My past merges with my present.
With a teasing smile, I slide the straps of my romper off my shoulders and allow the soft material to fall from my body. Both observe as the fabric flutters over my bare breasts, my waist, my hips, and then down to pool at my feet. Standing in nothing more than my panties, I spin on a heel and step up to the door, where I pause on the threshold.
“I wouldn’t make me wait.” I saunter inside the tiny house.