by J A Wynters
“You too, Simone.”
I led the way down the narrow hallway and waited for Mia to exit, before I made sure I locked the back-entry way.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and started walking, Mia silent by my side.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?’
“Would you have believed me if I did?” I stopped and looked at her, my shape looming over her.
“No.” She averted her eyes.
“I know what you think of me—”
“You have no idea what I think of you.” She cut me off.
“I’m sure I could guess.” I stopped dead and turned towards her, my body pushing her against the building. “You think I am some kind of broken bird with clipped wings. And that if I just let you in, that you could mend everything that’s broken.”
“You give yourself too much credit.” She huffed at me.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, you’ve had some issues. But you’re anything but broken. You’re strong. You are so fucking strong that you’re a fort; you’ve built walls so high around yourself that you can’t even see what’s on the other side. You want to be cold, but you’re anything but. You’re like a volcano; there’s so much heat and warmth brewing inside you, it just wants to spill out. But you keep it all inside, dormant. Only a select few ever get to see the splendour of an explosion.”
I swallowed hard, my heart racing. I took another step, and my body pinned hers against the wall. Heat rose from somewhere inside me, submerging everything.
“You are dangerous—I can see that—but you’re also a protector. You protect those you care about, and you protect your heart so fucking fiercely. Because deep down, despite all your strength and passion and danger, you’re are afraid just like the rest of us. You’re afraid of getting hurt and losing yourself and actually showing people who you are.”
My mouth slammed into hers, even as she was still unravelling me. Her soft lips parted and her tongue darted out to meet mine. My arms closed around her, pulling her against me, my hips grinding against her. She moaned into my mouth, sending me reeling.
My hand travelled up her back and plunged into her hair; I gathered a handful in my fist and tugged, forcing her face upwards, deepening the kiss. Her body writhed against mine. I broke away from her mouth and peppered kisses along her chin, travelling the length of her long neck—naked, flushed skin. She moaned as I kissed her collarbone, the scent of her intoxicating.
I found her mouth once more, hungry, wet, devouring. All the while, my erection ground against her, my hardness pushing against my jeans, wanting to taste her, wanting to have her, wanting to fuck her.
I needed her.
I wanted her.
I wasn’t going to deny myself any longer.
It would all be so easy. I could’ve just pulled up her skirt, tore away her underwear, released myself from my jeans, and I’d be undone.
But I didn’t want it to be easy.
I didn’t want it to be quick.
I wanted to revere her, devour her, claim her, and that took time.
I pulled away from Mia. She was flushed and breathless and totally breathtaking. “Not here.” The words scratched through my voice as I grabbed Mia’s wrist and pulled her behind me. I took long purposeful strides; I would have sprinted if not for her shorter legs and the rigidness between mine.
I pushed through the red door as if it wasn’t even there. I yanked Mia through it, spun her around, and slammed her body against it—shutting it with a loud bang. My lips found hers.
Needy.
Desperate.
Hungry.
So very, very hungry.
“Mia.” I growled as I pulled away tugging at her bottom lip.
My hands found her waist, and I lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my hips as I pinned her to the door. Our eyes locked, our breath erratic. Our lips sought each other and, once again, we were one. Her hands raked through my hair, fingers digging into my scalp, scratching at my neck.
With her body pinned against the door, and her arms winged around me, my hands were free to explore her. I tugged at her shirt releasing it from the skirt. One by one, I unbuttoned her shirt, exposing her flesh and her black lacy bra. I groaned at the sight of her.
The shirt hung off her shoulders as my hand travelled along her silky back, rounded her ribs and found the swell of her breasts. I cupped the right one in my hand, wanting nothing more than to rip her bra off and have her skin in my hand.
But I waited.
I found her nipple as it rose and hardened behind the material. My thumb rolled across the growing bud, and I pinched it. She moaned, pushing her hips against mine, burying her head into my neck, nipping at my skin. I did the same on the other side, craving her skin, punishing me, punishing her.
I buried my hand in her hair and tugged at the strands, exposing her neck to me. I peppered kissed along it, grazing her delicate skin, tasting her, wanting more of her—all of her.
I grabbed the strap of her bra in my mouth and edged it off her left shoulder. Her hard nipple peeked at me beneath the rim of the fabric. I hissed sucking in a long breath. My cock twitched and pushed in eagerness. I pulled off the other strap, her nipples danced as she ground herself against me. I kissed her collarbone and the swell of her breasts, my tongue lashing at her nipples—so pink, so hard, so perfect. Her whimpers sank deep into my core, drawing from me a fierce ache for more.
So.
Much.
More.
Mia pulled, then yanked until she wrenched my shirt from my body. Her eyes roamed my torso. Her fingernails dug into my neck and she pulled me in, her legs squeezing around my hips, her need burning. She exhaled into my mouth with a soft eager moan as my hands tightened around her.
I pulled at her skirt, lifting it like a band around her ass, and my hand slid underneath, finding the elastic of her underwear. My fingers slid beyond the lace and brushed along her hot, wet lips. She moaned and trembled, the sound sparking lust and greed in my already needy body. The weight of desire too much to hold
I retrieved my hand and hooked myself around her. I pushed away from the door and walked to my room. No more games, no more denial, only Mia.
I lay her on my bed and stood beside it appreciating her beauty. Her hair, tousled and messy, framed her heated face. Her blazing eyes darting over me. She licked her glistening lips, red and swollen. She peeled the white shirt from her body, exposing creamy soft flesh. Her skirt, pushed up along her legs, revealed their endless expanse.
I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off giving my cock breathing room. I prowled onto the bed and blanketed her with my body. Finding her lips, I kissed her. Not urgent, like I wanted. Not hungry, like I was. But sweet and soft, like she deserved. She answered with her own need.
I broke away from her mouth. My fingers traced the shape of her jaw and journeyed down towards her neck where they closed. Pushing against the jaw bone, I forced her head back, her body arching for me. With my free hand, I pulled away her bra. I groaned at the sight of her breasts. My hand travelled freely between them—twisting, pinching, stroking, kneading—and when she shivered and moaned, my mouth found reprieve on her skin. I wrapped my tongue around her nipple, my teeth grazing the hardened bud. Her soft gasps and trembling body were maddening.
“Gabriel.” She moaned my name, and I almost unravelled right then. The reverence in her voice, like a knife in my heart, threatening to shatter the solid ice around it.
I released her and pulled myself away. With one fluid movement, I unzipped her skirt, tore it away from her body, and relieved her of her underwear. I exhaled at her beauty, the rounded shape of her hips, the dark curly hair at the apex of her legs, her flat abdomen.
All of her.
Was mine.
My fingers and tongue teased, brushing and grazing around her as she moaned and quivered.
“Please.” She begged. So I obliged, continuing to touch her, all her hidden curves, every inch of
skin, every unexplored depth.
Kissing.
Teasing.
Sucking.
Brushing.
Stroking.
Wanting.
“Gabriel, please.” She trembled. Her body, peppered in sweat and heated with desire, was breaking for me.
I unwrenched myself from her quivering body and threw off my boxers. I grabbed a condom from my drawer and rolled it on, returning to the only place I wanted to be.
Crawling back onto the bed, I pushed her legs apart and lowered my mouth to her opening. She moaned at my hot breath. My cock responded to the sound, swelling, hardening, needing.
I plunged a finger into her, and she groaned bucking her hips. Clasping her hips, I held her down and my tongue flicked over her. Her sex, musky and sweet, was like a drug I could get addicted to. Completely intoxicating as I devoured her, slow and measured. I tortured her, whipping her with my tongue. Lashing. Striking. Punishing.
Holding her down, fighting the grinding of her hips along my face, I watched the beautiful grimace of delight as her face creased and her chest rose and fell in a frenzy. I dined on her like she was my last meal.
She was close, so close and I wanted her to suffer, just like me, to ride the wave, to fall and crash together.
I left her a quivering mess—desperate, hungry, needy—and climbed above her. My cock at her entrance, the heat already sending me into a frenzy. I wouldn’t last long.
With a desperate groan, I plunged inside her and all my walls collapsed. My eyes latched onto hers as I moved inside her, her hips pushing against mine, opening, tightening, trembling. I answered her need, pumping faster, needing more of her, all of her; I couldn’t get deep enough. I wanted to crawl under her skin and become part of her. Nothing was enough.
Harder.
Faster.
Tighter.
She trembled beneath me—soft, sharp moans drowning me and pulling me under.
I was so close. My heart raced and my vision clouded as Mia arched herself into me. With a long, searing cry, she clutched at my back—her fingernails tearing at my skin—and tightened and convulsed around me.
With a few languishing thrusts, I sank deeper into her. And with an anguished delighted groan, I came undone. Pleasure crashed into me in a wave of voracious sensation, shuddering against her soft flesh, smashing against her sweaty skin and heavy breaths.
I collapsed on her. My entire weight sinking into her hot and sweaty body, her heart thumping through me, her breath hot at my neck.
Bliss.
When my body settled, I rolled away and, instinctively, she curled herself into me. I held her. Unintentionally. Desperately. What the hell did we just do?
I kissed her shoulder and she mumbled something, her body pushing further against mine. I wanted to drown in her—the soft swells of her chest as they rose and fell against me, the waves of her wild hair as it stuck to her back, the musk of her sex, the beads of her sweat, the feel of her softness. And so I did; I closed my eyes and drowned.
“Gabriel. Gabriel, wake up.” Her voice was so distant it felt like she was part of my dream. “Wake up, Gabriel. We’re going to go get some ice cream.”
My lids felt heavy as I strained to open them. I was still so tired. The room was pitch black. I shut my eyes again.
“Come on, kiddo, we’re going to go get some ice cream.” Light flashed behind my eyelids, and she shook me insistently.
I opened my eyes and stared at Alice. “You look like a princess.” I smiled at her. And she did. She had on her favourite gold shirt that sparkled in the light, a small black skirt, high heels and a long, beaded necklace. She had makeup on and was smiling. That happy smile, the smile I loved. And we were going on an adventure—in the middle of the night.
“Hurry up, kiddo.” She pushed me from the bed. I rolled off the mattress and pulled on my pants and winter Jacket. I found my beanie by the door. Alice grabbed my hand and yanked me down the stairs and into the cold night. The cold air stung my face. I already missed my bed. But Alice was back.
She hadn’t been back for two nights. Sometimes, even when Alice was home, she just stayed asleep. But tonight happy Alice was here again, and she wanted to take me on an adventure.
“What flavour ice cream would you like, kiddo?”
“Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?”
“Who told you that?”
“You did. A couple of days ago.”
“Na, it’s never too cold for ice cream.” I beamed at her.
Alice rambled on as we walked, promising adventures and excitement. I skipped next to her as she trotted ahead, her heels clacking on the dark pavement.
The takeaway was open twenty-four hours. The lights blazed in every direction. In the dark night, it spilt on the road and surrounding business, bathing them in an orange glow that felt almost warm.
I told Alice I wanted a strawberry, chocolate cone. So I complained and my eyes welled with tears when she shelled out a few coins for a plain vanilla ice cream.
“Look kiddo, you got an ice cream. Now, stop complaining.”
I swallowed my tears and licked the ice cream, following my mother. Her steps growing faster, her body vibrating with excitement.
“Ok kiddo, we’re just going to go meet a friend, okay? You just eat your ice cream.”
I nodded and followed her to a tall brick building—just another building in a stack of endless brick monstrosities. She pressed the doorbell and the front door buzzed allowing us access to the building.
We took the elevator and stopped on the seventh floor. Alice knocked on door 709. She flipped her hair and flashed me a smile. “How do I look, kiddo?”
“Beautiful.” She flashed me another smile as the door flew open. A man opened the door. He was big and hairy, and his mouth cracked open in a smile when he saw Alice.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He grabbed her and kissed her on the mouth. My stomach coiled when he touched her. Something didn’t feel right.
His eyes landed on me, and he looked at Alice again, “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“I couldn’t get anyone to watch him. He’ll be fine, he’ll just watch TV or something. You won’t even know he’s here.”
“Just keep him out of the way.”
“No problem, Danny.” She smiled at him but his frown didn’t go away. He watched me as I followed my mom inside. Danny closed the door behind us and wrapped his hand across my mom’s shoulders. “Entertainment is here boys.”
We walked into a lounge room where a bunch of other men sat, they all cheered when they saw my mom. My heart swelled with pride; she had so many friends that loved her.
There was another girl there, but she looked tired, her eyelids were heavy. It was really late.
“Okay kiddo, you sit here.” Alice pushed me onto the couch next to the girl, a trail of drool was crawling from her mouth and pooled on the couch. She murmured as my body shifted her weight. “Don’t move. Just stay here and when I finish with my friends, we will go home.”
I nodded and licked the ice cream; it was melting into my hands. There was an old action movie on the TV. I watched the cops chasing some bad guys out of town.
I don’t know if I fell asleep or if I was just so engrossed in the movie when I noticed I was alone in the room. The girl had vanished and so had all the men. I hadn’t seen Alice since we arrived. My hand was sticky with dried ice cream. I got up and wiped the exhaustion from my eyes. I needed to wash my hands, and I wanted to sleep. Alice’s play date was taking too long.
I heard the noise. It was coming from a room. The door was cracked open. I stepped closer. There was a bed. The sleeping girl was on it now. It looked like she was still sleeping, but all her clothes were gone and one of the men from before was lying on top of her. He was grunting and pushing her with his body. She wasn’t waking up.
I pushed the door open and found Alice. Her clothes were also gone. Everyone’s clothes were gone. She was bent over the bed, and there was
a man behind her. He was pushing into her from the back and grunting like a pig every time his hips slapped against her ass. His forehead was peppered with sweat and beads of it shone on his long beard. The other man knelt on the bed in front of Alice, and he had his thing in her mouth; but it was bigger and harder than mine had ever been. He had her hair in his fist, and he was pushing her head up and down. A third man was watching. He was touching his thing too; it was up and hard, and he stroked it up and down. And then his eyes fell on me.
“What the fuck?”
It was as if time stood still. Everyone froze for a split second, and all eyes in the room landed on me. Except for the girl that didn’t want to wake up. I saw my mom’s face. It was wet and sweaty, her hair messy and her mascara smudged in long black lines down her face. Was she crying?
“Get him the fuck out of here, Steve.”
The man who was touching himself took three strides and was in front of me. He grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me away from the door.
I could hear Alice shouting something, and one of the other men told her to ‘shut up and suck.’ I didn’t want to go with this man. I didn’t want to leave my mother there. But he was bigger and stronger, and my jacket was zipped right up to my chin. He opened the front door and pushed me outside.
“Just stay here, kid. Your mom will be fine.” He slammed the door in my face, even as I banged against it. I banged and banged, pounding the door with my fists, pushing against it, slapping with a flat hand when my knuckles got too sore. When my throat was raw from screaming, and my hands throbbed in pain, I sank to the floor. The corridor was dirty and dim and smelt like piss. Noises filtered from beyond cardboard walls and thin doors.
I tried to sleep; but every sound and bang woke me and left me shivering and more petrified than before. Mommy would come soon, she’s going to come soon, I’ll be home soon, I’ll be home soon. I chanted the mantra over and over, clutching my knees and wiping hot tears from my cold face.
Sun filtered through the small hallway window when I woke up again. She hadn’t come out yet. My stomach growled. I sat waiting. People came in and out of doors. Big, small, dark, pale, tired and bothered—they all had that same look of desperation. That look people get when they give up fighting, when they just give in to the fact that this is their lot and nothing would ever change.