by J A Wynters
I kept waiting. Minutes, hours, maybe days. The sun had moved slowly, and my stomach growled more fiercely with each inch. I waited.
The door cracked open and one of the men from the night before stepped out, almost tripping over me. “Watch your step, kid!” He roared at me and walked towards the elevator. When he had gone, I tried the knob. The door gave way and opened.
I stood listening. There was silence. I walked into the house. One of the men was asleep on the couch, his body slopped like a rag over the stained, grey fabric. I tiptoed around him. The kitchen was deserted. The room where my mother had been was now occupied by the sleeping girl. She was still there and still naked, two of the men were asleep on either side of her.
I found Alice in the second bedroom. Danny was wrapped around her; they were both naked and asleep.
I sat by the side of the bed and waited for Alice to wake up.
The dream was too real. Sweat drenched my face as my eyes flew open. I sucked in a deep breath and looked around. I was in my bed with Mia. With Mia.
I looked at the shape of her, curled and splendid as she slept. As quietly as I could, I rolled out of the bed, found my boxers and slipped them on. I needed a drink. Leaving the room, I made my way to the office. The pale night drenched the workshop and office in a grey light. But I knew my way around the place and didn’t need more light.
At the drinks cart, I grabbed a tumbler and tossed some ice into it. The cubes clinked in the glass and splintered with a hiss as I poured the vodka over them. I sipped the drink, savouring the burn down my throat and the spreading warmth in my chest.
I was on my second glass when her shape appeared at the door. Her long, silky silhouette clad in an oversized shirt with endless legs, wavy wild hair and naked feet.
“Are you ok?” Her voice was laced with concern.
“You should be sleeping.” My voice strained at the sight of her.
“I was. Then I woke up to a cold, empty bed.” She stepped into the room.
“Bad dream.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She came further into the room and leaned against the desk. In the pale light her skin shone almost blue and her hair a glittering grey.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No. How many have you had?”
“Just the two. I’m considering a third.” I swished the near empty glass and brought it to my mouth, sucking the last of the drops of alcohol.
“Tell me about your dream.”
I glanced at her, “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” I sank further into the seat. Mia’s face grew grim. With two long measured strides, she closed the distance between us and mounted me. Her hands slinking around my neck as her legs hooked behind the chair. A shiver ran up my spine at her touch.
She lowered herself to me, seeking out my lips. Soft and tender, her kiss was gentle and exquisite.
“I can’t make it better if you don’t tell me.” Her hips begun a slow dance against my groin, and my cock responded immediately.
“Mia,” I groaned her name, lost in delicious agony. “I said I don’t want to ta—” Her lips sucked at mine again, her tongue sweeping by them. She deepened the kiss, raw and brutal as she used herself as a balm.
“Poor, broken Gabriel.” Her hips rolled above me in an undulating motion, her fingers brushed my jaw, the bristles rolling beneath her touch.
“Mia.” My hands clutched the chair beneath me, my knuckles white.
“It’s okay, Gabriel. Just let go. Let me make it better.” Her hands plunged into my hair, and her lips brushed mine then pressed forcefully—needy—her tongue gliding past my lips. She sank into the kiss—into me—and I was hers.
My knuckles brushed the inside of her thigh, and she shivered at my touch, grinding gently against me.
My hand travelled beneath her shirt, finding hot flesh. I clutched her hips, digging my fingers into her. I wanted her to stop. And needed her to keep going. She rolled against me, with me. My fingers brushed the length of her, finding their way to her breasts. My thumb brushed over a nipple, so perfectly erect that she arched her back, pressing into my touch with a soft moan.
“Mia,” I whispered into her. I was hard and swollen and unravelling fast. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want you.” My voice was guttural and breathy.
“You have me.” She pressed herself lower onto me, and a shy smile stretched across her lips.
“No, not just this. I want more of you, all of you.” I hissed as she ground against me, her mouth falling open. “You keep me up all night, and you haunt my thoughts each day. I’ve wanted you from the moment you walked in and every minute after that.”
There was so much more I wanted to say but Mia pulled away. Her heat leaving mine, the sensation almost painful, the disconnection unbearable. She reached over to the desk, pulled open the bottom drawer where she rummaged around, and pulled out a foil package. Her hands found the elastic of my boxers, and she tugged as I lifted myself off the chair. Her fingers swept the length of my cock, and I jerked at her touch. A smile tugged at her lips. and she handed me the small foil square.
I rolled the condom over my erection while Mia pulled the shirt from her body. It was all I could do to hold on. Her perky breasts danced with her movements, her nipples tight as pinpricks. She slid out of her underwear and, in a beautiful fluid movement, was back in my lap.
“Let me make it better.” She whispered in my ear as she positioned my cock at her entrance and sank onto me. I growled at her tight heat, and my fingers curved around her ass, clutching onto the flesh.
“I feel so powerless with you; everything is out of control. I can’t protect you, can't stop the pain.”
“What pain? What are you talking about?” Her brow furrowed as her hips rolled up and down. I hissed at her heat.
“If anything happened to you…”
“Just. Let. Go, Gabriel.”
Her hips moved above me, willing me to bury myself deep inside her. Her hot flesh searing mine. My hands trailed her spine and raked through her hair, exposing her long neck. I nipped at the flesh, biting, licking, and sucking. Her groans were like a siren call, her body moving above me in a sensual dance. I trailed the path to her breast and sunk my teeth into the swollen flesh, swirling my tongue around her pink nipples, drawing soft ,desperate moans from her. Her back arched and her fingernails dug into my shoulders. She looked tortured with happiness, her face contorted. I could have been hurting her or giving her immense pleasure, they looked one and the same with her face like that. I didn’t want to stop; I couldn’t even if I tried.
Pulling her into my mouth, I held her with one hand while the other found her wetness. I swallowed her soft moans as they grew louder, each belonging to me, forcing her body to shiver, drawing from her pleasure so divine that she exploded all around me. Her hips pushing, pulling, burying, as my hands tightened around her. My hips bucked and drove into her in a mad frenzy until, with a final desperate stab, pleasure coiled in my core and erupted in waves of lust and desire.
Breathless, we both gulped erratic breaths, and she settled her forehead against mine. Our gazes locked. She dropped her mouth to mine and drew a soft moan from my lips as she kissed me so delicately—as if she could feel how fragile I was.
She climbed off me, her body glistened with sweat while mine already ached at the memory of her touch.
Mia reached for her discarded shirt and slipped it over her head. “Get rid of that thing and come to bed. I don’t want to sleep alone.”
She turned around and walked out of the room without a backwards glance.
I clenched my jaw at the wake of her silence, got up and discarded the condom in the wastebasket. I grabbed my boxers and walked downstairs.
In the dim light, I could make out her figure under the blanket. I slid beside her, curling around her body, wrapping my arms around her, her heat a comfort. I gathered her hair in my hand and pushed it away, exposing the
delicate spot of flesh where her neck and shoulder met. I planted a single kiss and she murmured, pushing herself against me, allowing me to gather her into me—closer, hotter, desperate.
“Mia…”
“In the morning Gabriel, I don’t want it to end yet.”
I didn’t argue. How could I when I felt the same? I fought sleep. Sleep brought nightmares and brought the sunrise. Sleep would steal her away from me—her smell, the feel of her around me, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her body. I fought. And I lost.
I swallowed the pain in my chest as I bolted up in bed. The dream had returned. It was always the same, and always different. This time the end felt so real and so close, too close. I grabbed my chest, willing to quell the pounding of my heart that screamed in agony. I sucked in deep, long breaths. The room became clearer, the light of day forming shapes in my bedroom, reeling time forward.
“Is that how you always wake up?” Her voice was a mixture of concern and curiosity. My eyes shot up and met hers.
She was sitting cross-legged on a chair she had dragged over to the side of the bed. She was watching me sleep.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to avoid another smack to the head.”
“Sorry.” My eyes flickered over her face. “Did I hurt you?” I clenched my fists under the blanket, wanting to tear the mattress to shreds.
“Not enough to scare me away just yet.” A shadow of a smile flickered on her face, and the softness of it allowed some of the tension to seep from my body.
I shoved myself to the edge of the bed when she shot me a sharp look. Her eyes studied me with piercing scrutiny. “Don’t move.”
I stilled. Waiting.
“We’re going to play a game.”
“Oh?”
“It’s called truth.” Her eyes remained fixed on me, gauging any reaction. When I gave her none she continued, “I ask a question, if you answer truthfully, you get a reward.”
“What sort of reward?” My body jerked at the ideas spilling into my head.
“You can ask me to touch you or touch myself, in any way you see fit.”
I swallowed hard and my cock jerked to life, suddenly hard and eager. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm.
“What sorts of questions?”
“Easy ones. Hard ones.”
“And do I get to ask any?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not sure your game is fair.”
“Life’s not fair. Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Question one. Is Alice your mother?”
“Really?”
“Answer the question, Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, claim your reward.”
“Kiss me, Mia.”
A wicked smile spread across her face, and the tip of her tongue slipped out of her mouth licking the top lip. God, she was so sensual. She slunk like a cat onto the bed, her hand and knees sinking into the sheet that clung to my body. The sheet tugged at my bare flesh and sent goosebumps along my spine. She brought her mouth but a hairsbreadth away from mine. Then swung away and planted a hot kiss onto my chest.
I grumbled. Turned on, and disappointed all at once. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Then you should have been more specific.” She winked at me and I scoffed.
This game was going to hurt.
Everywhere.
She retreated back onto the chair, her legs curled beneath her. “Question two.”
“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m not sure I like your rules.” I ground my teeth and waited.
She ignored my complaint. “Why do you live here?”
I sighed and my eyes swept the room, cramped, dark, completely safe, and comfortable. All too familiar. “It’s the only place I can call home.” Her dark eyes scrutinised my face, looking for traces of lies, hesitation. Or maybe she was wanting more. There wasn’t going to be any more.
“What’s your reward?”
“Take off that shirt.” My voice scratched, low and gritty.
Mia uncurled her legs, and her arms crossed herself as she reached for the hem of the shirt. She pulled it up ever so slowly. My eyes feasted on her body as, inch by agonising inch, she bared herself to me, exposing her naked creamy torso, followed by her breasts that bounded and fell with the motion of her arms, her puckered pink nipples, and her long neck. When she released her head from the shirt, her wild brown hair fell in waves framing her flushed face and covering the swell of her breasts.
I groaned at the sight of her, my body hardening. My fists dug into the sheet, stretching the fabric to its limits, the soft cotton rubbing against my erection. Threatening. Comforting. Arousing.
I would not survive this game.
The T-shirt landed mutely on the floor as the last strands slipped off her arm. Mia crossed her legs again, not trying to cover up her nudity, not shying away from the task she had set herself. My mouth watered at the sight of her.
“Question three.” She ran her fingers across her lips. “Do you have a second set of books for this place.”
“No.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.
“No?’
“Every penny I make and earn and pay out is all clean. This place,” I breathed—my home, the home built on a pile of lies and bodies—“It’s as clean and pure as I can fucking make it.” I didn’t bother hiding the bitterness that tainted my voice. I couldn’t be angry at her for the accusation and yet, I was. She didn’t trust me. Not yet. And after today, after this game of hers, I didn’t know if there would be any winners or if we would both lose.
She nodded as if accepting my answer despite her reservations of whether or not I was telling the truth. That was the olive branch she was willing to extend, and I would grab onto it with both hands.
“I want you to touch yourself.” My voice was cracking at the seams.
Mia bit her lower lip and raised a hand to her mouth where she sucked the tip of her finger. She popped it out, her lip curling below as her finger fell to her chin and traced the long curve of her neck.
My body hardened as my eyes glued themselves to the tip of her index finger which was now tracing an agonisingly slow path from the hollow of her neck, down between her breasts, to the lining of her black underwear. Her finger lingered, and in a painstakingly deliberate move, retraced its original route, sinking back into her mouth with a soft moan.
I gulped for air as my breath stalled, my lungs feverishly trying to keep up with my heart, my pulse hammering, pounding, rocketing. She was playing with me like I was a toy, and I was completely captivated by her game.
“Question four.” Mia sat back on the chair and gathered her loose hair, twirling it around her wrist. The motion forced her back to arch while her breasts danced and moved with her.
“No.”
“No?” She let her hair drop and edged forward on her seat.
“My turn.” I tried to sound forceful, but I could hear the despair in my voice. I was begging. I needed a reprieve.
Her hand shot back to her hair, and she twirled a long, brown strand around her finger and nodded.
I took a galvanising breath, wrenching my eyes away from her body and focused on her eyes.
“What happened to your horses?”
Her face creased with pain and for a second I regretted the question, unsure if it was because I could see the hurt it had caused, or because I’m afraid she’ll end this game.
My entire body tingled with anticipation as she shifted on her chair, her forehead creasing with her thoughts.
When she finally spoke it was almost a whisper, “They were both shot.” She inhaled deeply holding all of her emotions at bay, and I was raked with regret and desire; desire to take the pain away.
“Your reward?”
“I want you to kiss me.” Her voice clipped.
I prowled over the bed and slid off the edge. My bare knees scraped against the worn carpet, but I didn’t care; all that I cared about was the kiss. Her lips. Her warmth. I reached for her underwear and pulled them off. I could smell her arousal and my cock twitches, hungry and pained.
I reached for her knees and pulled them apart, forcing her ass to the edge of the chair, and I kissed her. The taste of her arousal was musky and delicious as my tongue swept around her. She moaned and her hand plunged into my hair, digging into my scalp. I was lost in the kiss, her flavour, her moans, and the feel of her thighs against my cheeks. And I knew I had to end it.
I forced myself away.
“That’s not what I meant.” Her voice was breathy and fiery.
“Then you should have been more specific.” I licked my lips.
“Question four.” She caught her breath, her cheeks flushed, her nipples erect, and her entire body quivering. I didn’t want her to ask the next question because I was afraid it would be the one I won't be able to answer.
“No, still my turn.” I could see she wanted to argue, so I kept talking. “Question two, where are your parents?”
Her face grew darker again and her answer was clipped. “They’re on the farm.” She was hiding something but she answered the question.
“Your reward?”
“I want you to touch me.” She whispered.
I sank back to my knees before her and pushed myself up, bringing my hand to her neck. My knuckles brushed her chin, tracing her delicate bone structure. My hand fluttered open, and my fingers floated down her long neck, over her rounded clavicle, and to her pink puckered nipple. She shivered under my touch, and her whole body shimmered. My thumb traced her nipple, stroking leisurely back and forth in slow deliberate circles. My delicate strokes were relentless. She moaned, arching her back into my touch, and she pushed away against the chair as if she couldn’t decide how much more she wanted, if anything at all. And still I stroked; watching her face, the bite of her lower lip, her fluttering eyelids, her desperate and needy moans. A circular, delicate torture. She was melting away, and all I wanted was more.