A Kiss Stolen

by Georgia Le Carre

  She laughed again and the shard in my chest dug deeper.

  “Through all the tears he never said a word. When he had eaten the last spoonful, he got up and walked out, but that day I followed him. He went down the road, searching. I wondered what he was looking for. It was an especially freezing cold night and I was almost giving up with following him aimlessly looking at shop windows and sitting around on park benches, when I saw him finally stop at one of those Biffa recycle dumpsters. I watched as he got into it and made his bed for the night.”

  My eyes widen. He was sleeping inside a dumpster.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t have much, but I did have a floor in my own home that we could both share. I banged on the dumpster and told him I was there to help him and take him home with me. Of course, he rejected me. I’ll never forget his eyes though. They were full of mistrust. There was no hope in them at all. All his belief in humankind was gone.”

  She smiles at me and the shard goes even deeper till it feels like I am starting to bleed on the inside. I know that I was indirectly responsible for this. I clear my throat and sit up. “How did you get him to go with you?”

  “I told him that one of the soup kitchen regulars a while back used to sleep in dumpsters the same way he was doing. The disposal truck came however one early morning when he was deeply asleep, lifted the dumpster into the air, and crushed him to death.” She grins. “I exaggerated the situation horribly, of course. I told him his intestines came out of his mouth and his brain came out of his ears.”

  I smile weakly at her.

  “Dragging him along with me was hard work. A few times he tried to give me the slip, but I never let go. Since then, though, he’s been the one to drag me along with him.” She laughs then and rises to her feet. “Eat a bit more, dear,” she says. “And get as much rest as you can.”

  The look she gives me is so apologetic that I can see she is telling me all this to atone in some way for his behavior. There is no doubt he didn’t tell her about the reason for my presence in the house, and perhaps the walls he set up just beyond their care for each other prevents her from asking.

  Just as she reaches the door, I lift my head. “Can I ask you another question?”

  “Yes, ask away.”

  “Why were you at the shelter?”

  I have never seen someone’s face fall so suddenly. She manages a smile and responds with tears in her eyes. “I used to be a nurse at St Mary’s hospital down in Lambeth. After many years of being childless I became pregnant. My world lit up. Nothing could go wrong. My dream had come true until I went for a pre-natal care appointment and tested positive for HIV. I had only been with my husband who was negative.

  She smiled bitterly. “It meant I contracted it from a patient without my knowledge, but everyone abandoned me, even my father. I was an only child so had no other siblings to depend on. On my own, I pushed out my baby.”

  The tears filled her eyes. “Thank God, my baby was born HIV negative, but once that news reached my mother-in-law, she came and took my baby away and I was left on the streets. With the little savings I had I found lodgings in a rundown block, but finding a job I could stomach was much harder, and soon I couldn’t even be bothered. That was how I ended up at the soup kitchen for meals.

  I get to my feet. “I have one last question. Do you know how his father died?”

  “I do,” she says, “but it took years for him to finally trust me enough to tell me about it. I’m sorry, darling, but it’s not my prerogative to tell his story to anyone else. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  I nod and collapse back into the chair.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brand

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0u5joA0strw

  (Try me)

  -oh, take me for a little while-

  It is late when I arrive back home from a day full of business meetings. I resolved what others might consider revolting situations, but since I don’t suffer from the pangs of conscience other men are burdened with, I had no problems. Once you have torn the liver out of a screaming man, there is not much more that you will not do. Tonight though, I am far from a peaceful mind because far beyond my financial empire and its pesky troubles, is the dark haired, blue eyed, feisty witch under my roof.

  I recall our fight last night, the way she slashed out with the knife, and I am suddenly itching for another. Last night I drank myself to sleep, but there is no possibility of going to bed tonight without exorcising this demon. Half out of my mind with exhaustion and lust, I make my way up the stairs. The key is on me. I insert it into the keyhole, and twist the handle open.

  She is on her bed and asleep, or perhaps more likely, she is not. I head over to the bottom of the bed and stop to look down on her. The light from the doorway falls on her. She turns then, her hair falling in a dream-like cascade over her eyes and my breath catches in my throat.

  It jumpstarts my frustration. How dare she sleep so peacefully? Even the thought of her at calm state strings all the veins in my body tightly with resentment. I kick the frame of the bed before I can stop myself. The sound startles her awake. Her eyes open wide and for a split second there is confusion in them, but the moment they land on me she instantly jerks up. I circle the bed, watching as she inches back towards the headrest her legs raised to her chin.

  I want her terrified, quivering, but her eyes are calm and watchful. It unsettles me to no end. “You offered yourself to me last night …” I say, allowing a nasty smile to flower on my lips. “I’ve come to collect.”

  I wait with bated breath to see what she will do. I watch her glance at the open door and I relish the thought of her jumping off the bed and attempting her escape from the room. Instead she rises to her knees and takes off the tank top she has on.

  For the longest time my eyes cannot leave hers. It is like being caught in the most beautiful storm. It is dangerous and yet it is so breathtakingly awesome you cannot run. When I can finally tear my gaze away it slithers down to her full breasts. In the light from the doorway, I can see her nipples are already swollen and nearly as red as her lips, as if someone has been sucking them all night.

  My mouth waters.

  How is it possible that this sinfully delicious babe has never been fucked by anyone?

  Somewhere, there is a stirring of discomfort. A strange sensation. I thought everything in me was dead but the desire for revenge and more material wealth. Suddenly the memories … oh! the terrible memories come back. Crystal clear, taunting, laughing at me for my weakness. I brought her here to make her suffer not worship her beauty. I rear back. As if she felt the pull back inside me, she lifts her hands and sweeps all of her hair up into a messy mass on top of her head … and there is no going back for me.

  I am so hard for her it hurts.

  My trousers come off in an instant and are flung across the room, next is my briefs. Her eyes expand at the size of my exposed cock. It juts towards her, thick and greedy. And the goddess waits in her unbearably provocative pose of capitulation and offering.

  Never breaking eye contact I put a knee on the mattress. She draws in a sharp breath. Without warning I pull on her legs so she lands on her back with a gasp of surprise. Stationing her beneath me, I align the length of my body with hers. Her eyes are boring into mine, searching … but for what I do not know. My heart races feverishly and my mouth suddenly feels parched. She reaches for my shirt. Her fingers tremble as she fumbles with the buttons.

  There is too much of a delay so I slap her hands away and crush my mouth to hers. I almost don’t want to kiss her, because I can already feel myself losing control, years of discipline slipping and falling in nothing, but I cannot not kiss her. It is like an instinct. The way a baby turns its mouth to its mother’s breasts and starts sucking. No one teaches it. It just knows it must do that to survive this harsh world.

  The moment I thrust my tongue into her mouth I knew it was a mistake. I’d only intended it to be quick and brutal, just
a little taste, but that hard strong thing inside me immediately starts melting, weakening. Even my arms propping me up on either side of her feel as if they are made of warm wax. I have not latched my lips around a life-giving force, I’ve let my enemy into my heart.

  I bruise her lips with the fervent kiss, and I tell myself, I will hurt her as much as she hurts me. The moment her hands come around my neck, I lose all my strength and my body slams on top of her.

  Her touch …

  I can feel myself tremble as she splays her fingers over my skin, leaving a burning warmth in its wake. Excitement like I have never known wreaks havoc inside me. I drink in her taste one more time and pull myself away with super human restraint, the growl erupting from my lips is a reflection of the crazy sensations inside me.

  I gaze into her eyes, my heart pounding hard. “Go on,” I dare her. “Do it. Finish the job. Kill me and you will be free to go back to your father.”

  Her chest rises and falls as rapidly as mine, her cheeks are flushed a bright red, her mouth swollen from my assault and her eyes, deep unending pools that foretold my doom nine years ago. Even then I knew I was looking straight at what had the ability to imprison my soul.

  Her hand tightens, her fingers press on my Adam’s apple. I feel the air become constricted. The cells in my body begin to scream for oxygen. I know she is waiting for me to push her hands away. That would be victory for her. My eyes begin to bulge. My cock is still rock hard, but I feel something in the base of my spine begin to flutter uncontrollably. I have to fight every cell, every instinct for survival inside my body not to knock her hands away.

  But I do. She will not win. I know she does not have the guts to kill me. Killing me will be like killing herself. For we are one. Tears fill her eyes. With a sob she releases my neck, and waves of pleasure rush through my body as I take large gasping gulps of air. She just watches me with a mixture of horror and shock in her eyes. She thinks she has hurt me, but she has just given me the best victory of my life.

  She reaches up to kiss me once again but I hold onto her shoulders and pin her back to the mattress. A kiss is too intimate … No more of that. I’m not ready to fall any deeper into her trap.

  “I need my dick serviced, not my heart,” I snarl.

  Reaching for her round breasts, I grab the full mounds in my hands. She winces at my rough touch, but then bites down on her bottom lip in such a sexy way, I become convinced that her goal is to drive me mad.

  Lowering my head, I suck hard on her nipple, and enjoy the pull along my dick. Her moan, soft and like a charm brings an odd sensation of tenderness in my heart. I release the hard bud of one breast and move to the other. I lick, suck, and tug while her nails leave scratches across my back as she gyrates her hips against my cock.

  Moving from her breasts I trace kisses down the soft white skin of her belly. I rip away her panties the moment I arrive at her hips. She immediately closes her thighs like an insect eating flower, trapping my head between her legs. With a smile, I slide a hand up to her chest to hold her down and take her sweet clit in my mouth. It sends a thick trickle of her juice flowing from her opening. When I lap it all up with one hard swipe of my tongue, she almost shoots off the bed.

  “Brand,” she cries hoarsely.

  I press her back down. Fuck, I can’t get enough of the taste of this woman. I dip my tongue even deeper into her, then pull it out to smack it hard against the lips of her virgin cunt. My fingers soon join in the assault, sliding in and out of her, while my tongue teases her clit.

  All she can do is writhe like a cut snake and emit unintelligent animal sounds.

  I lift my head to watch her. I want to see what I’m doing to her. Panting, disoriented, her eyelids half-closed, and her fingers tangled in her hair, she is a hot mess. Her hands shoot out, grab me, and pull me to her. I let myself be pulled up and down on her, her hips grind desperately against my dick. I take my shaft in my hands and slide it up and down her soaking folds. Positioning the tip at her entrance I start to force myself into her. Her eyes widen and she makes a strangled sound at her very first taste of the carnal copulation between a man and a woman.

  I am big and she is extremely small and tight.

  At her wince of pain, I almost pull out until I remember that my mission is not to give her pleasure. Even so for reasons I care not to think about I cannot bring myself to hurt her at that moment. I restrain myself as much as I can and telling her to relax, I slowly, very slowly, inch by inch make my way into her.

  Until I am balls deep in her body.

  It is unbelievable, but I’m finally, finally inside Liliana Eden. My chest tightens with a feeling of animalistic and savage possession. The walls of her pussy grip my dick as tightly as a fist and I give in to the groan that erupts from me. Savoring every bit of the achingly sweet pleasure I begin to thrust my hips. Slowly at first, then faster and faster.

  She gasps at the tumult of lust that zaps though her body. Strangely, even I feel as though it is my first time. I keep on increasing my speed until my hips are near ramming her off the bed. Meeting my frenzied thrusts, she buckles in for the ride, her hands tightly wrapped around my shoulders as she directs her incoherent cries towards the ceiling.

  “Brand … fu … fuck. Oh … f-ffuu … fuckkk … Brand …”

  The call of my name has never sounded so sweet. I stare at her, fascinated by the passion of the woman in my arms. She is like a dream that turned into a nightmare, then back to a dream. Soon her whole body begins to quiver. She is about to explode and for some completely inexplicable reason, which has never happened to me before, I want to come with her.

  Desperate to do so with her, I forego rhythm and fuck her like a ferocious beast. Her orgasm sets off mine as we roar out together at the fireworks of uncontainable lust. Every vein in my body juts against my skin as the throes of raw, primal sex course through my entire being.

  I do not know how long it takes for us both to return to sanity, but when we do, I open my eyes to meet hers. Her pupils are so dilated her irises are almost black. Our faces are so close to one another I am breathing her in and she is breathing me.

  I realize with a sense of almost panic that I am holding tightly to her as if my life depended on it, or I care about her, which obviously, I don’t. I just lust for her body. Before I can let go she throws her arms around me and captures my mouth in a deep kiss. The taste of her completely undoes me. I want to fuck her all over again, but I know I can’t. I’m too exhausted by the emotions she aroused inside me. I roll away from her with the intention of leaving instantly. I need to think, but she grabs my wrist. I look down at her.

  “Just stay with me for a few seconds, please,” she says softly.

  I collapse by her side and shut my eyes. I should go. I know I should. She is too dangerous, but a few seconds later, I reach for her and pull her roughly into me, her perfect buttocks cushioned perfectly against my dick.

  Just a few minutes, I tell myself.

  I fail. My brain shuts down for the night and drags me into a sleep that no demons are able to wake me up from.

  At least a solid six to seven hours later I come awake to the morning sun filtering in through the curtains. With the fog of sleep still upon me, I am not sure of where I am, or why I feel so at peace. Something incredibly warm is pressed against me, and it feels so sweet that I look down in wonder at the angel in my arms. The moment the angel registers as my greatest enemy, I immediately jump up in horror.

  My movement is so sudden I send the lamp on the bedside table crashing to the ground, which jerks her awake. Disoriented by the sudden commotion she looks at me curiously.

  Furious with myself, I spring off the bed. What the fuck am I doing?

  “Are you okay?” she asks, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

  I don’t respond. I don’t even bother to pick up my clothes. I just turn around and stomp butt-naked out of the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brand

  I wake u
p suddenly, the dream breaking around me.

  “Ma,” I whisper in the darkness, before I realize the astonishingly vivid images were only an echo from the past.

  It was Ma, slathering homemade mayonnaise on her hair to make it shiny and thick, and Da was teasing her about it. Telling her he wouldn’t mind the smell so much if it could make her grow a couple of inches taller. My mother was tiny, five feet two inches tall so my father, who well over six feet, took great delight in teasing her about her height. He was also finding new nicknames for her: Little Ant, Shortcake, Midge, Ankle biter. The list was long and colorful.

  I get out of bed and pace the floor. Restless. It’s been a long time since I dreamed of Ma. Now in the darkness, memories of her tumble into my head. I’ve made myself forget a great deal of the past, but never her eyes.

  They were unforgettable.

  Dark, long, and filled with mystery; the eyes of a sorcerer. Probably because she was one. Ma read the tea leaves and cards. Da and me would come home from some gig, and other women from the compound would be leaving our caravan. In her hand Ma would be clutching a five or a ten-pound note, a smile for Da and me, tugging at her lips.

  Once when I was still very young I asked her to do a reading for me. She smiled sadly and explained that she had spent her whole life reading the fortunes of many people. More often than not, she had to lie to people about what she saw, because there was always more bad than good in their path. She said she loved me too much to consult the heartless cards for me. She couldn’t bear it if she saw something bad.

  Sometimes I wondered if that gentle creature ever read her own leaves. If she knew how she would meet her maker, but decided out of the kindness of her heart not to tell us? If she knew her last words would be, “Don’t.” Or that she would fall dead on the very floor of the kitchen she had spent the afternoon on her hands and knees cleaning. Then I think, no, if she had known she never would have wasted her afternoon in that way. Or maybe, knowing her, she did know, but in death as in life she wanted her body to fall on a clean surface.