The Runner

Veronica Arch

THE RUNNER BY VERONICA ARCH Venus Press LLC

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THE RUNNER

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE RUNNER Copyright © 2006 by Veronica Arch Cover Art © 2006 by Croco All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

To Andy, my love, my life

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Chapter One

Nicole didn’t notice the man sitting next to her until the end of class when he said, “Excuse me. You left this on the floor.” And he held her purse out. “Thanks.” As she accepted the bag, she felt his fingers brush hers. Flushed, she looked down and saw white dust caking the purse’s strap. “It must have gotten dirty from my shoes. The rain really mucked up the parking lot. I wasn’t expecting it to rain. I’m never prepared.” She was rambling. She always did when she was nervous. Her fiancé, Jeremy, hated it when she rattled on. He said it was one of her worst traits. “Ethan? May I have a word?” When the instructor, Ginette, waved to the man, he nodded and crossed to the front of the classroom. Nicole mentally banked the name Ethan. Somehow, she knew how sweet it would sound on her lips. “Nicole?” Patty, her best friend, nudged her. “Are you ready to go?” “Yeah. Sorry, I got distracted.” “So,” Patty started as they followed the outflow of students into the corridor, “does Jeremy still think it’s dumb that you’re taking this class?” “Yeah, but he’ll change his mind when we’re in Paris.” “Especially when you have to order his beer for him.” Though Nicole smiled, she didn’t want to think about the honeymoon or Jeremy. She wanted to think about the man who had rescued her purse. Ethan. And she had no idea why. He wasn’t attractive. His thin frame stood barely an inch above hers. He wore a ratty old windbreaker, out of style baby-blue jeans with a large rip in the thigh, and work boots. His thick, brown hair looked like it hadn’t been cut in months. He had an almost feminine upturned nose set on a drawn and pale as cucumber pulp face. His only interesting feature was an oversized, chunky ring on his left hand. Nicole and Patty stepped outside where the spring air hung like a rain forest canopy, making Nicole wish she had chosen a sleeveless wedding dress. By midsummer, and her wedding, the scorch would be on, as her brother would say. Patty waved as she headed to her Volkswagon Beetle. “Good night, Nicky. Have 5

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sweet dreams of Paris.” “I will,” Nicole answered, her face warming with the heat of her lie. She doubted she was going to dream about anything besides Ethan. After waving to Patty, Nicole climbed into her blue Honda Civic and searched for a good song on the radio. When she had gone through the dial twice, she put the car into gear. She told herself she really didn’t need to see Ethan again. Didn’t want to. But when she reached the exit and saw Ethan’s slight figure jogging to a red pickup, she wanted to slam on her brakes. The SUV on her tail, however, forced her to pull out onto the street. For the next few miles, she checked her mirror for the red truck. When she finally turned onto her street, she groaned. Good God, what was she doing? Obsessing over guys was not her style. Obsessing over a guy from class, months before her wedding was inexcusable—irrational—insane. She parked in the driveway of the house she and Jeremy had bought last year and stared at the two-car garage, which made up the front of the home. A “garage house” is what Jeremy called it, but he had fallen in love with the modern two-story the minute he had stepped into the foyer. Though she had done her best to make the house as nice as possible, she still couldn’t explain why it felt as cold as the bottom of a lake. “Jeremy?” she called into the house even though she knew she’d find him parked in front of his computer, playing that on-line game, Sim-something. She poked her head around the den doorway and saw Jeremy’s broad shoulders and buzz cut. He wore her favorite top—a cable-knit blue sweater--and khakis. Crisp and clean Jeremy. The man she was going to marry. The man she had fallen in love with five years ago at Patty’s wedding. “Hey,” she said. “Was it useless?” Jeremy didn’t turn away from the glow of the screen. “No, it was good. Sorry. C’etait très bien. Ou bon. I always forget. But yeah, for a continuing Ed class, the teacher was great.” Jeremy nodded at the computer, and she retreated. He would come and talk when he had time. For the next couple of hours, in between her snack, bath, and TLC home improvement show, she repeatedly checked in on Jeremy. Sometimes he granted her a minute or two. Other times, he didn’t answer at all. From what he did say, she learned that his day at Torque Power and Blades had been long. Clients had been pains in the asses, being made bloody regional Eastern sales manager wasn’t as easy as it looked, and the Hungry Man he spent ten minutes treasure hunting for at the bottom of the big freezer turned out to be better than Mac and Cheese—his usual meal of choice when he had to 6

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eat alone. By eleven-thirty, her restlessness had grown like a pregnant spider. Knowing Jeremy would ask questions if he saw her, she did something she never did; she slipped down to the kitchen and drank wine straight from an opened bottle. With warmed insides, she mounted the stairs, thoughts of Ethan growing with each step. In the bedroom, she opened the closet door and stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the door. Her eyes were bright with want, her cheeks flushed with need. She slipped off her short sleeve sweater and took off her bra. Had she changed so much in the five years since she and Jeremy met? She didn’t think so. She prayed not. She turned sideways and pulled off her pants and underwear. Like a lover, she ran one hand slowly over her breast, her stomach, and her mound. No, she hadn’t changed that much, at least not on the outside. She closed the closet door and crossed to the bed. Tonight, she would not bother with her nightdress. As soon as Jeremy joined her, she would climb on top of him and satisfy this stupid ache that had formed from nothing, quite nothing at all. But Jeremy did not join her. Not right away. In fact, he left her alone with her thoughts, tingling body, and nimble fingers for too long. As she lay staring at the ceiling, Ethan’s face crawled into her mind. She slid her fingers between her legs, imagining his mouth, parted and wet. In her mind, she saw that mouth on her pussy, his tongue batting at her clitoris. She ran her fingers over her juicy lips before sliding them against her clitoris. Closer, closer, she edged to the piercing bliss she was chasing. Fuck me, FUCK ME, she thought. She rolled onto her side, squeezing her thighs together as she shoved her fingers hard and fast against herself. Fuck me. She shuddered into her orgasm, her head light with pleasure and filled with Ethan. When minutes later, she heard movement on the stairs, she swung the covers over her head and pretended to sleep. As Jeremy crept into the bedroom, she didn’t say “You should have made love to me when I needed you to” because he wouldn’t have understood. She couldn’t say she understood either. Ethan filled her mind now and wouldn’t let her rest. After Jeremy fell asleep, she snuck down to the basement. The mother-of-pearl pillbox sat at the bottom of the storage box labeled “Box 19, College Notes.” The silver dollar-size container had been in her possession, untouched since that day in her last semester, years ago. Nicole had never spoken to anyone of the green dust inside of it. 7

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Now, she traced a shaking finger over the lid and felt a lick of heat between her legs. The excitement reminded her why she had crept down here while Jeremy slept, why she would risk it all so close to the wedding. She knew what she was contemplating was madness. But her desire made her feel lightheaded, daring. She removed the lid. The dust or the Runner as Orenda used to call it hadn’t changed. It still had that just-scraped-from-the-forest-floor look. It still had that dank, yet appetizing smell. But she kept her nostrils and mouth well back. She had no intention of ingesting the powder. God knew what it would do to her. And neither did she want a sudden sneeze to disperse it. She had at most two applications. Maybe three, if she used it sparingly. She had to be careful. The cold from the floor radiated up through her knees, making her feel like her bones were made of chilled steel. As she got to her feet, she remembered the day her dorm mate Orenda had given her some of her secret stash. “This Runner is good stuff, man. Reliable. Best love potion this side of the Mississippi. Course, not even the best love potion can work if the other person isn’t open to it.” “I didn’t know love potions existed.” “Oh, no man. Really? Shit, you haven’t lived girl. You’ve never smoked up. You don’t know a thing about love potions. Next you’re probably going to tell me you’re a virgin.” “I’m not a virgin.” “Okay, good ‘cause I thought I was going to have to look for a new roommate.” Orenda grinned. “No, but seriously, man, the Runner is well known by those who practice the art of magic. Preferred fuck potion of choice. And called,” she took a drag of her cigarette, “the Runner because not only can it go the distance, but it can satisfy the very obsessed.” “I don’t get it.” “Do you know anybody who runs? Like those mad fuckers who do that New York Marathon shit?” Nicole nodded. “My uncle used to run. Every morning before work.” “Yeah, well, I bet your uncle was one obsessive asshole. People who run are like people in lust, they have one track minds.” A knock came at the door, and then a low, deep voice said, “Orenda?” Orenda smiled as she looked at her watch. “Thirty-three minutes from application to my door. A new record.” The guy Orenda had been salivating over since she first saw him in English 203 8

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stood on the other side of their dorm door. Though the guy, Matthew Spangler, was the hottest thing at Rutherford College, and out of practically everyone’s league, Orenda had told Nicole she was going to make him hers. Nicole had not wanted to discourage her friend, but Matthew, a cross-wearing Christian, engaged to Tracy Lebonhomme of the Lebonhomme Aeronautics, did not seem like the type of guy who was interested in a wild, pot-head like Orenda Goodleaf. “Hey, man, on the Iroquois reservation where I grew up, guys dig chicks like me,” Orenda used to say. But Matthew wasn’t from the reservation. He was from the south, and word was he kept his precious parts in his pants. That day when Matthew had come calling, Nicole had looked wide-eyed at Orenda. “I told you,” Orenda whispered as she tapped the jar of dust she kept hidden under her bed. “Love Potion Number 9.” Nicole shot to her feet. “Give me a minute and I’ll get out of here.” “No need my friend. I’d like to show you the power of the Runner.” Orenda winked as she stepped toward the door. Nicole didn’t have time to argue. With the pillbox clenched in her hands, she slid into her bed and under the covers. A second later, Matthew Spangler stood panting in their room, out of breath from running across campus. Nicole could not remember if Orenda and he had spoken. What she did remember was Matthew stripping, and Nicole becoming a voyeur for the first and only time in her life. She could not take her eyes off the pair. It wasn’t so much because of the sex, although that wasn’t bad, Matthew was all lean muscle and determination, it was more because Nicole couldn’t believe it. From Orenda’s account, she and Matthew had never even had a conversation, beyond a few hellos and strained smiles. All that had passed between Orenda and Matthew was a mysterious green powder that Orenda Greenleaf had taken from a cupboard in her grandfather’s kitchen. Nicole never knew how many guys Orenda had used the potion on, but in the eight years since college, Nicole had dated a handful of men, slept with three, and accepted a marriage proposal from one. And through it all, she had not needed the Runner once. Until now. Until Ethan. He did something to her, something no guy had done before, something she couldn’t explain. He wasn’t attractive. He barely spoke. Didn’t smile. He hadn’t even 9

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noticed her, not really. But since he had rescued her purse in that community college classroom, her mind had been filled with what she wanted to do to him until she couldn’t do it anymore.

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Chapter Two

Work. Blessed work got her through the rest of the week. And while initially she had bitched about Tina’s decision to take a vacation in one of their busiest booking seasons, the morning after the French class, Nicole wanted to send her boss a dozen roses at her Cancun resort. Alice, the other travel agent in the office, thought her co-worker had lost it. Nicole, however, had never been more thankful for people’s need to temporarily flee their lives. “I don’t think I’ve ever see you more focused. You look radiant.” Mike Roush, one of Nicole’s best clients had come in to book a business trip on Friday afternoon. The fact that he had been hitting on her for more than four years, and she had been rejecting him for just as long, did not dissuade him. Alice had once joked that Nicole should give Mike a blowjob in the bathroom to get him off her back. Alice said she herself would do it in a heartbeat because he reminded her of the hot doctor on her favorite soap opera. Mike clasped his manicured hands together and leaned forward. “A beautiful woman like you should be taking the trips, not making the arrangements for everyone else.” Nicole wanted to give Mike some smart-assed answer, but for some reason, she reconsidered. “I guess things are changing. I’m going to Paris for my honeymoon.” Mike sat back. “You’re not still marrying what’s his name, are you?” She rolled her eyes. “Mike, how long have we known each other?” “Not long enough.” He grinned. “Four years,” Alice said as she reached for the phone. “Thank you.” Nicole turned back to Mike. “And in all those years I’ve been going out with the same guy. I figure I must have told you his name a thousand times.” Mike grinned even wider. He seemed to like this game. “So say it with me once,” she said. “Sure. Together on three. One, two, three...” “Ethan.” Nicole slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit, I mean Jeremy. Of 11

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course, I mean Jeremy.” But it was too late. Mike was staring at her as though she had just taken her clothes off. Alice looked like one of those kinky blow-up dolls with her round mouth and wide eyes. To Mike’s credit, he let her finish booking his trip without a word. Before he left, however, he said, “There is a life outside of all of this. You only need to ask.” After locking up the shop, Nicole felt as though Monday night’s class was at last within reach. The only problem was she had to get through the weekend. Unfortunately, Jeremy’s brother Ian had invited them to the cottage. Though it was still too cold to swim, Ian had decided it was never too early to call on relatives to help spring clean. Saturday morning, Nicole started coughing before Jeremy’s alarm went off. After his shower, she was still in bed, doing her best imitation of a sick person. “You look awful,” Jeremy said. She withheld her objection. After all, she was only playing sick. “I think I’m coming down with something. Would you mind if I skipped the weekend? I can’t afford to take any more sick days.” She was scared for a moment that he was going to object. He didn’t like it when plans were disrupted. She had loved that side of him when they had first started dating. Her previous boyfriend, Hank, had been sweet, but he had lost three jobs in a row because he couldn’t keep track of time or his responsibilities. After Hank, Jeremy had been like a breath of fresh air—punctual and responsible—and some might say analretentive. “You can’t miss work so you better stay home. Besides no one will want you at the cottage if you’re contagious.” She waited until she heard the rumble of Jeremy’s Jeep fade down the street before she got out of bed. By noon, after she had done four loads of wash, cleaned the kitchen floor, and baked a batch of muffins, she almost regretted not going to the cottage. She didn’t know how she was going to keep her mind occupied until Monday night. As it was, Ethan infused every turn of her mind; while sorting the laundry, she wondered if he wore boxers or briefs, and how easily she would slip them off his hips. When baking, she wondered how his lips would feel against her fingers when she fed him chocolate. While brushing her teeth, she imagined him spreading her legs and sliding her up onto the bathroom counter. Believing food would calm her agitation; she made a quick lunch of tomato and lettuce on rye and then ignored it. She had no taste for food. She wanted only to feel Ethan in her mouth, to run her tongue over his pale skin, to taste him down the back of 12

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her throat. She decided to exercise even though she hadn’t in months. She had gone to a health club for a while, but had grown quickly tired of the leering men with their tight shorts and obscenely inflated muscles. She wanted lean. She wanted thin. She wanted the body forged by the long distance run. She wanted Ethan. After her workout, dinner came and went, and still the time stretched before her. She called Patty as the sun began to set. “Want to do something?” Nicole asked. “I wish you’d called earlier. Dave invited his parents over.” “Sneak out.” Patty laughed. “Nicole!” “Let’s go dancing.” “Dancing? We haven’t done that in ages.” “Let’s do it now. I’ve got so much energy, I feel like I could fuck a football team.” Silence hung between the two friends. “Are you okay, Nicole?” Nicole caught her reflection in the window above the sink. Her eyes looked like pits in her skull. Two bright red patches colored her cheeks. She ran a hand through her hair and turned away. “I’m bored I guess.” “I’m sorry, Nicky. I can’t get away. Maybe tomorrow?” “Sure.” But Nicole had to get through tonight. She drove to Blockbuster and came home with a movie she had heard of, but had steered clear of in the past because of its depressing nature. Tonight, she gambled that the plight of refugees on the Cambodian border would squash her lust. It worked for a while, but by the end of the three and half hour film, she had her head in her hands, weeping. The main characters had suffered through loss of loved ones, their homes, and their dignity. They knew need in its rawest form. And here I am, living a lie, she thought as she looked around her living room in the house she shared with her fiancé, the man who she had chosen to share her life with. She had no reason, no right to desire Ethan, a man she did not know. She was embarrassed, ashamed. But this desire for him felt like a switch to the back; while she prayed for the pain to end, she could not help looking over her shoulder at her flogger and smiling. When the phone rang, she let the machine record Jeremy’s message of concern, 13

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“Poor sick you” and his apology for not calling sooner “Ian’s buddies came up with a case of beer. We’ve been drinking since before dinner.” He signed off saying he had to pee like a racehorse.

****

The next day, she didn’t bother with chores, food, or grooming. She got into her car and drove to the community college. She felt like a profiling empath; going to the scene of the crime to sniff out the killer’s scent, soak up anything he had left behind—a memory, a strand of hair, a fiber off his jeans, the scent of his sex. But the school’s parking lot held nothing. Nicole sat in her car and imagined Ethan running to his truck, imagined his dark eyes, his fingers on her purse strap. A little later, when the police cruiser turned in to the lot, Nicole sat up, but the cop didn’t stop. Didn’t even wave. He didn’t even seem to see her. When he drove away, she checked the time. It was late. A lot later than she thought, Jeremy would be home soon. She had to hurry. At home, she retrieved the Runner from her closet. She wound an elastic band around the round box, and then put it into a Ziploc bag. She wrapped another elastic around the plastic bag and then gave it shake to be sure no powder came loose. Then she got her purse from the kitchen and tucked the box into a zippered compartment. She ran a finger along the purse’s straps, feeling the white dust roll under her fingertips like fine sand. A sudden urge to taste the white dust threw her and she didn’t try to resist. She slipped her mud-dusted finger into her mouth and an instant arousal shot through her. Ethan poured in. She felt his skin against hers. His lips on her neck. “Shit.” She reeled back, bumping into the counter. She wanted to laugh at how adeptly her imagination had coiled around this man whose last name she didn’t even know. Desire raged. She went to undo her jeans, pulled too hard, and sent the button skidding across the floor. She undid the zipper and closed her eyes as she slid her fingers into her slippery slit. As she did, she wondered if Ethan’s need would match hers. If he would say her name...the sound of the Jeep door slammed in the driveway. She scrambled to straighten her clothing as the front door opened. Concern stretched across Jeremy’s face. “Nicky, you’re so flushed. Do you have a fever?” “Maybe.” “You should be in bed.” As she nodded, she noticed the button on the other side of the room. Worried Jeremy would see and ask questions, she inched soundlessly to where it lay. But her 14

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stealth had been for nothing. When she turned around, Jeremy was gone.

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Chapter Three

On Monday night, she clutched the container as she approached the college entrance. The plastic bag and elastics were done away with, tossed aside on her passenger seat. When she entered the building, she realized she knew every step of the corridor. Over the past week, she had imagined it a hundred times, maybe more. As she neared the classroom, her body heat surged. A trickle of sweat fell from under her arms. Her lips felt like they had been dipped in hot wax. Three more steps. Two. “Nicole?” Patty. Crap. “I thought you were going to call yesterday to do something?” “No, I changed...” Nicole’s throat was dry as stone. She cleared it. “Jeremy came home.” “I’m sorry about Saturday. Dave’s parents didn’t leave until almost midnight. Surprising given the fact his father is usually in bed after Jeopardy.” As Patty droned on, Nicole tilted her head so she could hear the voices coming from the classroom. Was that Ethan? “Let’s go in.” Nicole spun around, not waiting for Patty’s reply. Ethan’s dark eyes met hers as soon as she stepped into the room. She had no time to think, barely had time to swallow before he looked away. He may as well have kicked her in the stomach. She squeezed the container as she crossed to the empty seat beside him. There were other people in the room, she sensed them, heard them as though they came from a television. Ginette may have been talking, may have been saying something she needed to pay attention to, but time and space had contracted. All that mattered were the inches between she and Ethan. She set out her notebook and pretended she was here to learn. Ethan sat quietly facing the instructor, his notebook open, his pencil poised. When the teacher began the 16

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class, Ethan started to write. She felt every movement as though he ran his fingers over her bare skin. When two hours later, Ginette put her chalk down and wiped her hands, people closed books, gathered belongings, and pushed back chairs. Nicole sat up—it was time. From under her desk, she retrieved the container, lifted the lid, and stuck her index finger in. With the end of her finger coated, she slid her hand to the rip in Ethan’s jeans. His hand gripped her wrist. When she tried to pull away, his grip tightened. “Please,” she whispered. He didn’t seem to hear her, but a moment later, he took her finger and moved it to his thigh. Nicole’s breath caught when she felt the rough hairs and cool skin. When he placed her hand back in her lap, his eyes facing forward, his fingers brushed her sex. As he bent to pick up his bag, his lips came within inches of her ear. “Stay,” he whispered. The flush started somewhere deep inside and worked its way to her outer bits, the tip of her nose, and the curve of her ears. “My God, Nicky. Are you okay?” Patty asked. Ethan stood now, packing his bag. “I’m fine,” Nicole began. “You go ahead. I want to ask the teacher some questions.” Patty didn’t leave before a few “are you sure’s”, but after she did, Ethan stepped up to the instructor’s desk. The two chatted and smiled. Somehow, Nicole managed to stumble to her feet. “Ca va, mademoiselle?” Ginette asked. “Oui.” Nicole was careful not to look at Ethan. Ginette gestured toward Nicole and Ethan, the last two students in the classroom. “Après vous.” As Nicole left the room, the light went off behind her and the door closed. Then the teacher said to Ethan as though Nicole wasn’t there, “Your friend?” His answer, a sharp “oui” made Nicole crazy. She wanted to turn around and see the expression on his face. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she walked down the hallway. Outside, Ginette said good night and headed to her car in the faculty lot. Nicole turned to look at Ethan, and when he still didn’t acknowledge her, a 17

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terrible thought came to her: the Runner hadn’t worked. She tucked her chin into her chest and found her car. As she tried to unlock it, she began to cry. “Shit, shit,” she said. She felt a hand move her hair. Ethan turned her to face him, the inside of his ring brushing against her chin. He positioned one leg between her thighs. Even through their clothing, she felt something pass from his skin to hers. She lifted her eyes to his penetrating stare and felt the desire charge through her. The look of raw lust in his eyes made her want to scream—made her want to pull him to her—made her want to feel him deep, deep inside. “Take me somewhere,” she whispered. Like a slave on an invisible chain, Nicole followed him to his truck, where he pulled down the back flap. A lawnmower, shears, work gloves, and rolls of sod took up most of the flatbed. He gestured for her to wait while he hopped up into the truck. He moved the equipment to one side, creating a narrow space on the other. Then, he unrolled some of the sod rolls and spread them out. When he was finished, he turned and held out his hand to her. She raised her eyebrows as if to say “here?” but the truth was, she would have fucked him standing at the bus stop. She took his hand and climbed up. After he closed the back flap of the flatbed, he turned and cupped the back of her head. His lips and tongue found her mouth. His kiss was tender, but so full of sharp need, she answered back with hunger she didn’t recognize. She wanted him, oh, God, how she wanted him, more than she had wanted any other man she’d ever had before. And the more his sweet delicious kisses devoured her, the more she wanted to feel his lips on every inch of her skin. As she reached to pull his windbreaker off, he grabbed the edge of her top and pulled it over her head. He undid her bra and let it fall. “My God, you’re beautiful.” His voice cracked as he ran a trembling finger over her breast. She pushed his t-shirt up over his head and sunk her mouth onto his neck. He pulled her to him and again covered her mouth with his. She felt the kiss down to the wetness between her legs. Before she knew what was happening, he was on his knees, kissing her stomach, undoing her jeans and pulling them off. He ran a finger along the top of her silk underwear. The finger teased and toyed with her until she wanted to take it and shove it inside of her. And then the panties were inching down her thighs and his tongue was trailing down her pussy, his mouth lapping her juices, making her weak. 18

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“Oh, God.” He looked up, his eyes reflecting his need. “Lie down.” She needed to taste him, now. He did as he was told and moaned when her mouth moved over his belly, down the line of hair that trailed from his torso to his cock. She gripped the top of his jeans. He was watching her now, stirring her oldest and wickedest dreams. Her hair fell on his stomach as she pulled his pants off. His thighs were just as she had imagined—lean, tight, sculpted from running. He wore no underwear. His cock was thick with blood and arousal. Nicole pressed her cheek to his hipbone and trailed the tip of her tongue along one vein that ran the length of his dick. “I want to feel you in my mouth.” “Yes. Oh, God, yes,” he moaned. She slid her mouth over him, swallowing him, needing to taste his sweet cock. She reached for his hips and plunged her mouth down onto his sex. “I need to be in you,” he said as he suddenly grabbed her wrist. Simple words, she had heard them before, but never had they moved her the way they did now. She sat up, straddled him, and slid his cock over her moistness. He rolled his head back. “Oh, Jesus.” She slipped his dick in part way and then took him out. She did it again and again. Ethan writhed beneath her. She went farther and then released him. Suddenly, he shot up, grabbed her shoulders, and flipped her onto her back. “I need to fuck you,” he said as he rammed her, “now.” She came within seconds, but wanted—needed—begged to come again. And she did, a second time and then a third, before Ethan shuddered in release. But he was only getting started. After only a few moments reprieve, he plunged into her again and again until she forgot where she was, who she was, and who might be looking for her. She felt drunk, stoned, and feverish all at once. When they were spent, she lay beside him, arm touching arm, hip touching hip, leg touching leg. The stars above were blurry, the breeze light and welcome. As her blood slowed, the noises of the night returned; a bus wheezed, a car alarm sounded somewhere in the distance, a lone bird cried. She ran her fingers over the nascent grass. “I hope you’re not going to plant this in someone’s yard after all our...uh...activity.” He smiled. “The day after next, and I’m sure they won’t mind. They’re good 19

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clients.” “So you’ve done this before? Made love in the back of your truck?” His expression darkened. “Never.” “Sorry,” she plucked at the grass, “I didn’t mean...” He ran a finger along her jaw, and she felt the touch down to her groin. “You can ask me anything you want and you don’t have to be sorry about it.” Playfully, she poked a blade of grass onto his shoulder. “Okay, then tell me is this your landscaping business or do you work for someone else?” “It’s mine, but I’ve been doing it for too long. I want to open my own pottery studio so I can teach classes and sell my pieces. I’ve seen this place just outside the city that would be perfect. It’s this house with a few acres I could turn into...” He stopped. “You don’t want to hear all this.” She smiled at his sheepish grin. “But I do want to hear it. The pottery studio sounds great.” “It’s been a long time coming. I’ve been working for years trying to make enough money with the landscaping business so I could start my own studio. There’s nothing more satisfying than working with clay and then seeing the piece you’ve created.” “So you’re an artist.” He reddened. “When you use the word artist, it makes it sound so…” “So what?” He shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “Important.” “It is important to do what you love.” He stared at her with such tenderness that she never wanted him to stop looking at her. “And what do you love?” The word “you” sprang up, ready to launch itself, but she scolded it away. She couldn’t love this man. She barely knew him. He barely knew her. And if she told him she loved him, he would think she was nuts. “Oh.” As she fumbled for a way to answer his question, Jeremy, the wedding, and the travel agency appeared in her mind like boulders that couldn’t be moved. “I’m not so sure anymore.” She reached out, feeling for his hand, and found his ring. The need to taste him was sudden. She sat up and licked his fingers. Ethan laughed. The sound plunged into her and made her want to weep. “You’re mine now,” he said. She licked the amber and gold block of ring and smiled. He had no idea that he was the one who belonged to her. 20

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She noticed a tiny latch on the lid of his ring. “What do you keep in here?” Ethan rolled onto his side and trailed a finger to her pussy. He pressed his lips to her ear, “Magic.” She spread her legs, feeling herself slipping back into that timeless, space less place Ethan transported her to. If she hadn’t been so drenched in pleasure, she might have wondered about the time. She might have even heard the car pulling into the lot. “Ethan.” She sank her lips onto his, greedy for his tongue, but he pulled back. Oh, God, she thought. The Runner’s spell is over. But no, it was something else. Ethan’s eyes had turned to slits as he crept to the edge of the truck. Like a soldier in a foxhole, he looked out. His chest heaved. His pale face was angry red. He looked scared, feral, and aggressive. She craved his naked skin. “Come,” she said as she arched back, “fill me up.” Ethan leapt across the cab, tossed her clothes at her, and jumped into his jeans. A second later, a voice came from outside the truck, “Nicole? Nicky?” Shit. Jeremy. She should have been more disturbed, perhaps panicked, feel guilty even. But she felt only one thing—fear. She did not want to lose Ethan. She could not lose Ethan. Would not lose him. She dressed quickly and stood up. She saw Jeremy walking toward the truck. He seemed surprised when he looked up and saw her standing in the flatbed. “Nicky. Shit. When you weren’t home by eleven, I called Patty. She didn’t know where you were. I was going to call the police...what are you doing?” He asked, as though just realizing she was in some strange truck. The sound of Ethan dropping to the ground made Nicole and Jeremy turn. The momentary distraction gave her a moment to think, a moment to concoct her lie. “This is Ethan, from class. His truck broke down and we were waiting for a tow.” She glanced from Jeremy’s face to Ethan’s. Jeremy seemed confused, like a boy working out a difficult math problem, but Ethan...as his dark eyes met hers, a slight grin lifted the corners of his mouth. A jab of heat shot down to her pussy. Even within feet of her fiancé, she wanted Ethan. “Well what...” Jeremy started as he motioned to the flatbed where Nicole was standing. “I can meet you at home.” She smiled as steadily as she could given the fact all she was thinking about was Ethan’s naked thighs, his tender lips, the force of his cock as it filled her up and split her into two. 21

Veronica Arch

“What about the tow? What’s wrong with the truck anyway?” Though Jeremy approached the truck’s cab, he didn’t know much about cars. He wasn’t about to pop the hood and stick his head into the engine. “The fan belt broke,” Ethan answered. “So you don’t really need Nicole anymore, do you?” Jeremy didn’t wait for Ethan’s answer. “Good. Let’s go home.” Jeremy wiped his hands as though they were dirty. Nicole climbed out of the truck and took a step toward her car. When Ethan grabbed her arm, she snapped around. “What are...” she started. Ethan’s Adam’s apple lifted and lowered as though on a pulley. She wanted to run her tongue over its edges. “Nicky?” A threatening note crept into Jeremy’s tone. She stared into Ethan’s gentle eyes. She didn’t know how she could have found him unattractive. He was so beautiful, she didn’t want to leave him, but she felt Jeremy’s presence behind her like a grizzly bear guarding its kill. If she didn’t go home with Jeremy, he was going to beat Ethan until his eyes bled. “I forgot my purse.” “I’ll get it,” Ethan said as he hopped into the flatbed and handed her bag. “Thank you. Again.” She didn’t look at Ethan before she left, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing in his truck staring in her direction. She could only imagine the expression on his face; it was probably the same sad expression she wore as she drove home. When she entered the house, conflicting emotions tumbled over one another. She ached for Ethan, felt guilty over what she had done, feared Jeremy’s reaction, and couldn’t wait to see Ethan again, to touch him again, to feel him inside of her. She had just set her purse down on the counter when she heard keys slamming onto the kitchen table. She had been so absorbed by her thoughts she hadn’t heard Jeremy come in. “So who was that guy?” “Just a guy from class. We had coffee with the teacher. We lost track of time, and when we got back to the parking lot, he discovered his truck wouldn’t start. By then it was so late, I didn’t want to call and disturb you.” Jeremy seemed to be thinking about these new details. As she waited for his verdict, she noticed the hard line of his mouth. Though he was a young man, not even thirty years old, his tight, thin lips looked like they had spouted a lifetime of judgments. 22

THE RUNNER

She didn’t know why she had never noticed before. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to fill up the silence. “It won’t happen again.” “You’re damn right it won’t because I’m going to get you a cell phone. It’s something I should have done before. Then you’ll have no excuse.” He pretending his hand was a gun and shot at her. Blood flamed into her cheeks. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means I don’t like having to come after you in the middle of the night.” “It’s not the middle of the night.” “I don’t care what time it is. I have better things to do than worry about you.” It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever said to her. She knew this. But while she had always been able to explain away his harsh words, she couldn’t think of anything right now. Even if he knew that she had been fucking Ethan, it wouldn’t have been enough to explain the hatred in his eyes. “Do you love me?” she asked. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. We’re getting married in two months. That should answer your question.” He stormed away and up the stairs. It should have answered her question, but it didn’t. What did answer it was the feeling that she didn’t belong with Jeremy.

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Veronica Arch

Chapter Four

She didn’t pack anything. She didn’t want to give him any opportunity to stop her. She didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to defend herself or her choice. But mostly she didn’t want to see his face or hear his voice or smell the cologne she used to love. She left a short note “The wedding is off. I’m leaving you” because she hadn’t planned any more than that. Well, she had planned one more thing. Ethan. She found him where she had left him—in the parking lot at the college. He was curled up on the grass in the back of his truck. “Ethan,” she said gently as she peered into the flatbed. He lifted his head. “Hey.” “You’re still here.” He sat up. “I was waiting for you.” “But how on Earth did you know I would be back?” He gave her a sideways glance that sent the sensation of a hundred hot fingers down her spine. “The magic’s strong.” The ground felt unsteady under her feet. “But I gave you the powder...” she stammered, embarrassed by her admission. They hadn’t talked about what had happened in the classroom. “You didn’t need it. I would have done anything you wanted.” He paused. “I mean I will do anything you want.” Though she liked the sound of that, something still didn’t make sense. When he hopped out of the truck, she crossed to meet him. “You said your ring has magic in it. What did you mean?” she asked. He tapped his ring and lifted the lid to reveal a white dust—a white dust that she had seen once before on her purse. “Oh, my God.” She started to laugh. He had outsmarted her. “Your Runner started the race before mine.” He looked confused. “What’s a Runner?” 24

THE RUNNER

“The love potion I put on your leg. You beat me to the punch though. That’s why I was so interested in you. You put your love magic on my purse that first night of class.” He was shaking his head. “It’s not a love potion.” “Then what is it?” “It’s a clarity potion so you can see the truth.” “And what is the truth?” she asked. “That I love you and he doesn’t.” “How on Earth could you love me? You don’t even know me.” He licked his finger and dipped it into his ring. “I used the clarity potion on myself and knew the first time I saw you who you were.” She shook her head and said softly, “Know who I am? I don’t even know who I am.” “You will.” She liked the calm certainty in his voice. She liked the way he looked her as though he could look at her forever. He held out his dust-covered finger. She hesitated then slipped his finger into her mouth, sucking the dust until his skin was clean. The warmness that traveled down her spine felt like hot brandy had been poured into her bones. “Do you want to see where this will take us?” he asked. She pulled him to her and slipped her hand down the front of his jeans. “I do.”

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Veronica Arch

About the Author

Veronica is a transplanted Canadian who lives in upstate New York with her husband. After graduating with a Master’s degree in psychology, she spent a few years working as a research assistant until she came to her senses. Now, she runs an online business and writes erotica and horror.

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