Micah and Jorie’s bond is tight, made even more so when Jorie’s dad died just as she entered her senior year in high school. Micah left his job in Michigan to move back to Henderson as her guardian so she could finish school where all her friends were. After she went off to UCLA, he went on to San Francisco, where he’s been ever since.

Setting my glass on the nightstand, I take my clothes off and just let them drop to the floor. I crawl naked into bed, giving a brief glance to my well satisfied dick before I flip the sheet over my lap.

Seeing those goddamn scars on Jorie’s breast threw me over hard tonight. I was in mid-orgasm when I saw them, overwhelmed with rage over what had caused those scars, and having my climax fire up for a second time as I realized it was Jorie on my cock.

Talk about a mind fuck, but then again, I’d always wanted her.

She was only fifteen when I first masturbated to dirty thoughts about her. I was fucking twenty-three and jerking off because I’d come home to visit my parents and saw Jorie in the backyard in her bathing suit. She’s always been pale—can’t tan to save her life—and she was utterly fucking delectable. She’d developed early, and her breasts were practically spilling out of her top. I fucking craved a taste of her… wanted to put my mouth between her legs, and that’s what I imagined as I jacked myself off in the shower.

Goddamn perverted is what it was.

Of course, I shut that shit firmly down after what happened to her just a year later when she was sixteen. My stomach churns as I remember her call to me.

“Jorie?” I’d answered hesitantly. She never called me, not because I didn’t care about her or vice-versa, but we weren’t friends. She was just the little toddler who would chase Micah and me around the yard. She was the middle-school kid who needed help with her science project, and Micah and I did the whole thing for her. And yeah, she was the teenage girl I fantasized about a few times because she was hot as hell and totally off-limits, which made her even hotter for some reason.

I didn’t hear anything at first, but then her voice came across so frail. “I need help, Walsh.”

She was in a hotel suite not too far from my office. I’d gotten into real-estate development and worked for a major firm in Vegas trying to soak up all the knowledge I could with the goal one day to own my own business. I was working super late, which was par for the course for me.

When I arrived, I noted the suite had been cleared of the thirty-plus high schoolers who had been partying there that night to celebrate the end of their junior year. I found Jorie covered in blood in the bathroom, holding a towel to her breast. The long, twelve-inch piece of glass that had broken from a vase in the shape of a dagger lay on the floor beside her.

It never once occurred to me that Jorie had tried to harm herself. I knew her well enough to know that wasn’t what happened.

I didn’t think someone tried to stab her, either.

By the torn panties wrapped around one of her ankles and the shattered vase, I got what happened. She’d been attacked and hurt in the struggle.

“Oh, Jesus fuck,” I’d groaned when I saw her sitting against the vanity, clutching the bloody towel to her chest. I went down to my knees beside her, shards of glass cutting through my dress pants and into my skin. “What happened, Jorie?”

Her teeth were chattering so badly she couldn’t talk at first, but then she managed to say, “There were two of them, but I fought them off. They got scared when they saw the blood and took off.”

Relief flooded through me. She’d not been raped, but those white panties around her ankle told me she’d come damn close.

“Let me see,” I said as I gently pulled her hands away from the towel. She winced as I did so, and I took in the two wounds, surmising that when the vase broke, that long piece went through her breast like a damned sword. But it clearly wasn’t life threatening as the bleeding seemed to be contained.

I pressed the towel back and assured her, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

She never cried. Only her teeth chattered as I lifted her up and carried her through the broken glass. I laid her on a couch in the main living area and called an ambulance.

I never left her side. She didn’t call Micah because he was working in Michigan at the time for an engineering firm there. Jorie’s dad was on a business trip. She was sixteen and perfectly capable of staying by herself for a few days.

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