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I let one hand rest on the steering wheel, the other dangling freely out the driver’s side window. It was a small town, cozy, sleepy, even and I drove aimlessly, trying to think. I needed to make sense of everything that’s happened. Trying not to replay Jamal’s hands on me last night, which proved an even harder task.

Eventually, I found myself wandering into the town’s park. The quiet helped, or at least I hoped it would. I parked near a gazebo, seated on a bench and stared at the empty playground, taking deep breaths. Hoping to clear my head. I sat next to two women with babies in strollers. I managed a small smile and they returned it. I was grateful for the silence.

Then… thwack… a sharp pain. A ball had just bounced off my skull. Disoriented, I pressed a hand to my temple. My pulse sped up. I looked toward the playground to see a boy, around my age, jogging toward me, worry etched on his face.

“Shit.. are you okay?” He scooped up the ball. “I’m so sorry. I'm babysitting a kid and he tossed it way too hard.”

He had dark blond hair, and grey stormy eyes, almost exactly like Jamal's, and stood slightly taller than me - lean, athletic. I blinked, trying to orient myself.

“It’s alright. Just a little knock,” I said, peeling myself off the seat and dusting invisible dirt off my pants.

He flashed a relieved smile. “I’m Alex. Are you new around here? You don’t look familiar.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You know everyone who lives in town?”

He shrugged. “It’s quite a small town. Word gets around.”

I frowned. “I’m Melissa. I'm new here. My mom recently passed away, and I’m here for the funeral.”

Alex’s expression fell. “Wait… are you Annabelle Whitmoore’s daughter?” He looked shocked and then in another second, he looked like he wanted to run and it disappeared as soon as it appeared.

What was that expression? I thought to myself.

He glanced at the playground behind him. “I should get back before he - before the kid disappears.” He hesitated, phone already in hand. “Can I get your number?”

I swallowed, surprised - but I typed it in and passed his phone back. He called himself, and I saved the contact.

“Thanks, Melissa. Nice meeting you.” Without waiting for a reply, he jogged back toward the playground.

I watched him go, stomach fluttering in a way my tangled thoughts hadn’t managed all day. If my body hadn’t been utterly wrecked by one smoking‑hot grandpa, I’d probably have been drooling.

I sat back down, shaking my head and trying to clear my thoughts, when I heard the two women besides me start to whisper. Small town and gossip I thought, when I heard one of them say, “Poor girl, she's stuck with Michael and that friend, Jamal. Anabelle was a good woman, I'm really sad she passed.”

I pretended not to hear or notice their conversation, until one of them said something that struck me, “Did you know Jamal's wife disappeared without a trace, almost like Anabelle did?”

“Oh my God. I really had a bad feeling about that man. He's such a creep.”

They kept looking at me and passing glances but I didn't hear most of it anymore.

Jamal's wife disappeared? What do they mean disappeared?

They talked about it like he had something to do with her disappearance. I didn't want to think much of it but I couldn't help but wonder. I had questions with no means of getting answers. I had to get home, I could feel a headache coming in.

One tour of the town was enough for me today.

---

I pulled into the driveway just as Jamal stepped out of his car. He looked incredible in dirty jeans that hugged his hips, a black tee shirt clung to his muscles, tattoos sprawling across his arms, then I remembered what just happened in the park and my pulse thumped.

I jumped out and hurried inside, determined to avoid him, even though I could feel his eyes on me. Michael was upstairs and I needed to talk to him. I reached the elevator, and the doors slid shut. Just before they closed completely, a hand shot in, and I recognized it instantly: inked knuckles, skinny wrist, strong grip.

Jamal stepped in beside me and punched the top-floor button.

What did he want now?

Before I could gather my thoughts, he pinned me against the wall, his hot breath close to my ear.

“Don’t ever ignore me like that,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, I should punish you, but I missed your pussy so much.” His fingers brushed my hip. “I want to fill it up again.”

I wanted to protest but my body already betrayed me as a moan escaped my lips.

“Hmmmm…..I know you missed me”

His hand slipped into my pants and his fingers found my clit and he stroked me fast and hard. My moans were becoming louder, then without warning, he turned me around and pulled down my pants along with my underwear in an instant, then he slammed into me with such force, but his hand was already over my mouth so my screams were just muffled moans. He slammed into me with one goal in mind, to find release.

I was on the edge and I knew he was too. He slipped his tongue into my ear lobe and sucked, still banging my pussy so good, chasing that sweet release I knew he craved for. I couldn't help it, as his name escaped my lips, he exploded. With an animalistic grunt, he bathed by walls with his seed. I felt his hot cum flood my insides, I couldn't hold it anymore as an intense orgasm sliced through me, leaving me a complete, hot and satiated wreck.

He pulled back, and withdrew his semi hard cock from my pussy, then pulled my pants and underwear back into place. He quickly buttoned his fly, just in time for the elevator doors to open.

He stepped out first, and I followed. Michael stood in the hallway, looking surprised to see us.

“Melissa," he said, smiling softly. "You're back already.”

“Yeah… I had something to ask.” I steadied my voice. “My best friend wants to come stay with me for the funeral. I wanted to ask if that's okay?”

Michael’s smile was gentle. “Of course. You need all the support you can get.”

“Thanks, Michael.” I gave him a grateful look and headed toward my room. Behind me, I heard them both enter into Michael's study and shut the door.

I paused at my bedroom door, stomach twisting at what Michael would think if he knew I’d just fucked his best friend and fucking enjoyed it. But the way he’d just walk up and fuck me, I felt like a toy. This was so messed up. I let the door close behind me and leaned against it, sliding to the floor.