by Cassia Leo
Chapter Seven
Present Day
The knock on the door is like music to my ears. I’ve been imagining this night all day long. And, as if he knows I’m not working tonight, he arrives at midnight. It would be easy for “Detective” Daimon Rousseau to find out my work schedule. If he is a real detective, he could find out just about anything he wants to know about me. But I don’t think he is. And I don’t plan on asking. The fact that I don’t know just heightens the mystery and anticipation.
I pull the door open a crack and walk toward my bedroom instead of the kitchen.
“Wait. I have something for you.”
My stomach lurches as I’m filled with disappointment. I thought we would get straight to it. I don’t need gifts. I need to feel his touch.
I sigh as I wait for the soft light from the corridor to disappear when he closes the door, then I turn around. I walk toward the door through the darkness and he waits for me. When I’m standing before him, he reaches up and touches my face, brushing the backs of his fingers over my cheek and temple. He wants to make sure I’m not wearing my glasses.
He plants a kiss on my forehead and pulls his hand back. “I brought you something to eat.”
“To eat?”
He reaches into his pocket and I expect him to pull out a cheeseburger and fries. But, through the darkness, all I can see is a small, dark ball in the palm of his hand.
“What’s that?”
He lifts his hand, bringing the object to my nose so I can smell it. I take a small whiff and the first thing I smell is raspberry then watermelon and kiwi. It must be a fruit, but it’s not anything I’ve ever eaten before.
“Go ahead. It’s my favorite fruit. I flew two hundred miles to get it for you.”
I reach up and my hand jumps the moment I touch the fruit. “It pricked me!”
He leans down and I can smell him, fresh soap and earthy oak, as he whispers in my ear. “You said you could handle anything I give you.”
I smile as I realize this was just a test, then I snatch the fruit out of his hand and walk to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I place it gently on the bare shelf. When I turn around, I’m not surprised to find him standing right behind me. I bring my index finger to my mouth to suck the small droplet of blood, but he grabs my hand and takes my finger into his mouth.
I can’t see through the shadowy darkness of his hood, but I can feel him sucking the blood off my finger. Sucking so hard I can feel the pull all the way down to my abdomen and beyond. He slides my finger out of his mouth and kisses the tip before he turns around and leads me to the bedroom.
Finally.
Once we’re in the bedroom standing next to my bed, he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a piece of cloth, possibly a scarf.
“Turn around.”
I turn my back to him and he ties the silky scarf around my head so it covers my eyes. Right away, he grasps the bottom of my tank top and pulls it over my head.
I dressed appropriately today. Normally, I roam the interior of my modest home in my standard outfit, minus the hoodie. Tonight, I’m wearing just the usual tank top and panties. No hoodie, no jeans, and no bra.
He lays his hand on my abdomen and pulls me backward until my body is pressed against his. “The anticipation is half the fun. Wouldn’t you agree, Alex?”
“Yes.”
His hand slides down the front of my panties and cups my mound. My eyes roll back in my head as I hold my breath.
“The moment when you know something is about to happen,” he whispers in my ear, “but you don’t know when.”
I swallow hard as I say a silent prayer that he will put me out of my misery soon.
He slides his hand out of my panties and slowly pushes them down until they fall around my ankles. I step out of them and he grabs my shoulders to turn me around.
“This is not going to happen.”
“What?” I reply, unable to hide my desperation.
“It’s not going to happen the way you imagined it.”
Oh, God.
His hand lands on the back of my neck, then his lips brush against my jaw. “Most women want to be courted,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down the curve of my neck. “You don’t even care if I kiss your lips. Why is that?”
“Because I don’t know you.”
“And you don’t care to know me?”
“No.”
His hand falls to my waist and I shiver as he drags his fingertips over my hip. “Then we agree on the most important rule of engagement.”
“Is this a war?”
“Everything is war. Especially love.”
Love. It’s a strange word to describe this “engagement,” but I’d rather not question it.
“Are there any other rules?”
“Yes.” He plants a soft kiss on the corner of my lips and I shudder with anticipation. “I must be allowed to kiss this mouth…” he murmurs, brushing his lips along my jawline “…and any other part of you I so desire.”
He presses his lips to mine and my muscles relax. He wraps his arm around my waist and pushes his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like a pear and I try to suck the taste off his tongue, but he pulls his head back and laughs.
“Have you never been kissed, Alex?”
My stomach roils with shame as I shake my head.
“It’s okay,” he assures me, brushing the hair away from my face. “It’s okay, chérie.” He kisses my forehead then nods toward the bed. “Lie down and make yourself comfortable. Relax.”
I lie back slowly as images of the sex videos I found on the internet flash in my mind. “What are you going to do to me?”
He chuckles again. “I’m going to break you in, Alex. I’m going to make you come first, because I’m a gentleman. And because I’m going to enjoy feeling you writhe beneath me. Then I’m going to fuck you.” I can’t see him, but I can hear a soft rustling that makes me think he may have just removed his hoodie. “When I leave here, you won’t be a virgin. You’ll no longer be Alex. And you’ll want nothing to do with your former self.”
Fuck me?
I press my thighs together, trying to quiet the throbbing ache between my legs. But it’s relentless. And the way he speaks to me, his promises, only make it worse.
I want to push up my blindfold to see him, but that’s against the rules. Instead, I wait patiently, listening to the soft sounds of him undressing. Hoping I’ll get to at least feel his body.
The mattress tilts as he gets on the bed. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he lies next to me and lays his hand on my belly. His breath is hot in my ear as his fingers crawl down my abdomen. I lift my hips a little, anticipating his touch, and he stops just above my hard nub.
“Have you thought of me while touching yourself?”
“Yes.”
He slides his finger between my swollen flesh and quickly finds my clit. “Is this where you touch yourself?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He moves his finger back and forth and I grip the comforter to try to stifle the trembling in my limbs.
“Do you imagine my mouth on you?” I nod and he pulls his hand away. “Answer the question, Alex.”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Do you want me to lick you?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you want me to lick you?”
I hesitate, then I whisper, “There. Down there.”
“You’re a big girl, Alex. You can say the word. Do you want me to lick your pussy? Do you want me to swirl my tongue around your clit until you can hardly breathe?”
Hearing those words spoken aloud, from that mouth. Spoken in that voice. I’m already having trouble breathing.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I … I want you … to lick my pussy.”
“Good because I want to lick your pussy. I want to lick you until your pussy is so wet, I can drink from you.”
Oh, my God.
The bed rocks as he moves down, positioning himself between my legs. He plants a long trail of hot, wet kisses down my belly. My body convulses the instant his tongue touches my clit. An involuntary squeak issues from deep in my throat as I try not to scream. Then he pulls his head away and I freeze with disappointment, thinking it can’t be over so soon.
But soon I feel him softly pinch my clit between his thumb and index finger. I’m so wet that his fingers easily slide up and down my hard nub. Applying just the right amount of pressure as he strokes me until I scream. Then he lets go and his mouth is on me again, softly sucking and swirling his tongue until I’m writhing beneath him, just as he predicted.
He continues to suck my clit, softer with each passing moment, until my body stills and I reach for his hair. He pushes my hand away and lays a few soft kisses all around my clit before he pulls his head back.
“Do you want to know what you taste like?”
“Excuse me?”
Suddenly, he slides two fingers inside me while he massages my clit with the soft pad of his thumb.
“Oh, God,” I cry, unable to hold it in any longer.
He curls his fingers inside me as if he’s beckoning my pussy to come to him. Submit to him. Then he pulls his fingers out of me and his chest slides over mine until his weight is on top of me.
“Open your mouth.” I open my mouth and he slides his thumb inside. “How does that taste?”
I close my lips around his thumb and slowly circle my tongue around it. He slides his thumb out of my mouth and I swallow hard.
“Sort of musky and … a little sweet?”
“You’re very clean.” He slides the other two fingers into my mouth; the ones that were curled inside me just a moment ago. “Suck.”
I suck on his fingers and he gently guides them farther in, until he almost reaches my throat, then he pulls them back. He drives his fingers slowly in and out of my mouth and I feel myself becoming painfully engorged with my need for him. I need him to finish me.
I push his hand away as tears stream down my temples, then I slide my hands down his back and grab his buttocks. “Now, please.”
His erection presses against my opening and he can feel that this is not going to be easy.
“This is going to hurt your tight little pussy. Are you afraid?”
“No.”
His hand slides under the small of my back and he lifts me gently, slowly sliding in just a bit farther.
“Ow.”
“That’s it, ma chérie,” he murmurs as I tilt my hips upward to beckon him farther inside. “Take it like a woman.”
I let out a soft shriek as he pierces me deeper with each stroke. He slips his finger between the wet folds of my pussy and caresses my clit. The walls of my vagina tighten around the tip of his cock and we both moan in unison. I grip the bedcovers as he fondles me, using my wetness to grant his way farther inside me.
“Daimon.” I speak his name softly and he leans forward to answer me with a kiss.
His mouth covers mine, swallowing my cries as my legs quake with ecstasy.
He pulls his mouth away. “That’s it. Come for me.”
His finger moves in soft circles over my clit as his cock slides in just a bit more.
“Ow. It hurts.”
“Yes. And it also feels good, no?”
“Yes.”
“You like my cock inside of you?”
“Yes!”
My hips buck uncontrollably as he stimulates me, until I can’t take it anymore. I lose myself, feeling my wetness gush over him. He removes his hand from between my legs and drives his cock all the way in. Filling me completely. I scream with pain when he digs in a little too deep and he quickly claps his hand over my mouth.
“You’re a woman now, Alex,” he growls into my ear as he moves inside me. “You must behave like a woman.” He moves so torturously slow, I want to bite his hand and scream again. “When you scream, you scream my name. Do you understand me?” I nod and he removes his hand from my mouth. Then he whispers against my lips, “When you come, you come for me. When you dream, you dream of me. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Now, I’m going to fuck you.”
Wasn’t he just doing that? Before I can ask this question aloud, he answers it for me. He lifts both my legs and holds my ankles up on either side of his head. Then he pounds into me.
Our bodies slap against each other, wet and sweaty and primal. This is what men and women were made for. And now I’m a woman. I hope I get to do this often.
Suddenly, I begin to feel another orgasm coming from within me this time. More intense than the last one. So intense it frightens me.
“Daimon?”
He doesn’t respond, but I can hear his soft grunts. I wish I could see him.
“Daimon!” I scream just as my pussy tightens around his cock and my body is rocked with another orgasm.
He pierces me a few more times before he pulls out and I feel a slow warmth spurting onto my belly. He reaches between my legs and quickly finds my clit, unsatisfied with giving me two orgasms, he kneels between my legs and fondles me until I’m a writhing, sweaty mess. Then he finally lies next to me. I can feel movement, then he swipes something over my belly to wipe away his seed.
“You did good,” he commends me, his fingers trailing over my belly and finding my nipple. He pinches it and I suck in a sharp breath. “I want you to go back to the clinic and get on birth control, Alex. That way, I will be able to come inside of you. I want to fill your pussy with my come while you come all over my cock. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes… I think I could do that all night with you. Can we do that all night tonight?”
He chuckles. “No, ma chérie. You need your rest.”
He drags his fingers over my chest and neck and up to my lips. He traces the curves of my bottom lip and I begin to feel tired. Then he traces my top lip and he pauses for a moment with his finger poised on the bow. He runs his fingertip over my top lip again a few more times, as if he’s found something interesting.
“Your top lip is bigger than your bottom lip?” He asks the question in a strange tone of voice I’ve never heard him use. It sounds almost high-pitched as if he’s truly surprised or … frightened.
“Yes, why?”
He lets out a breath he must have been holding while waiting for my reply. “It’s beautiful.”
He holds my face as he leans over and kisses me hard. I try to focus on copying everything he does. I move my lips like him. I slide my tongue into his mouth when his tongue retreats. I think I’m doing a good job. I can feel his erection growing against my hip. Then he pulls away suddenly.
“I have to go.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Will you be back?” I don’t bother trying to hide the desperation in my voice.
He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Yes.”
And, once again, he’s gone. But, somehow, I can’t help but feel as if it had something to do with the disproportion of my top lip to my bottom lip. Maybe I’m not as beautiful as he imagined.
Chapter Eight
Aasif is scratching his beard as he enters the tiny snack shack. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable. Body language is one of our worst enemies. It reveals our inner truth when we believe we are being discreet. It’s like a two-faced friend handcuffed to your wrist, shouting your secrets to anyone who’ll listen.
He doesn’t look at me as he removes his blue windbreaker and tucks it into one of the cubbies under the snack shack counter. Aasif calls the store building the snack shack because the space is only about ten feet wide by fifteen feet long, and a large portion of the space is occupied by the clerk’s counter. The entrance door to the snack shack is always locked at nine p.m.; two hours before my shift begins. After that, all transactions are made through the slot in the bullet proof glass storefront windows.
I never have to deal with customers coming into the floor area.
There’s always a couple of inches of glass separating us, which makes this the perfect job for me. I can sit here reading a book by the light that shines through the window from the pump bays. Most customers pay at the pump with their credit cards, so I only see a couple dozen customers per shift. There’s the occasional complaint about a card reader or a pump not working. But, on the plus side, the panhandlers don’t come around here at night. So, for the most part, this is a quiet job, which I’ve come to love.
Aasif looks up at me with that bored exasperation I’m starting to get really sick of. He’s ticked off that he couldn’t fire me when he wanted to and even more ticked off that I still haven’t bothered asking if he was threatened. I’m not stupid. If I question why Aasif didn’t fire me for calling in sick two weeks in a row, that will just open up the possibility of him telling me who threatened him. And I don’t want to know. As soon as I know, that makes me an accomplice to blackmail.
Aasif opens his mouth to speak and he’s interrupted by a knock on the glass. I spin around on the stool behind the counter and my heart nearly stops. A man in a black hoodie slips a fifty-dollar bill into the curved slot. I reach for the money and accidentally graze his cold fingers. I snatch my hand back, still unable to tear my gaze away from the shadowy blackness where his face should be.
He reaches up and pushes the hood back. “Thirty on number two.”
I sigh with relief at the sight of a young Hispanic guy with a spiderweb tattoo on his neck. But then I remember something that stops me cold.
It must have been about two months ago. A man in a dark hoodie came to the window to pay cash. What kind of car was he driving? I try to recall all the images surrounding the mystery man in my mind and I’m sick to my stomach when the image materializes. The vehicle behind the guy in the dark hood. A gold Mercedes.
“Are you gonna give me my change, or what?”
The harsh voice snaps me out of this horrifying memory. I hastily slide a twenty-dollar bill back at him through the slot, then I turn to Aasif. His eyes are narrowed and one of his thick eyebrows is cocked suspiciously. He knows something’s going on with me and I’m not being forthcoming with him. I have to find out what made him change his mind.