by S. L. Scott
My eyes adjust to my surroundings which give me a sense of where I am—Evan, Hawaii, traveling. Another mystery solved and my dignity is still intact even though I broke my rule of no one night stands. It’s nice being here for the summer where no one will judge me like they do at home. More importantly, I feel good about my choice, what we did, and that’s what he gave me, a choice.
Without moving, he whispers, “Mallory?”
I snuggle back, pressing against him even more. “Yes?”
“Are you having trouble sleeping, baby?”
Why do I like that sound of ‘Baby’ so much? “When I woke up, I was wondering where I was?”
“I’m that forgettable, huh?”
I giggle softly. “Unfamiliar surroundings, that’s all.” I’m starting to feel more awake.
He props himself up on his elbow behind me, and I roll onto my back and under what appears to be an adoring gaze. “Do you want to go for a swim in the pool?” he asks.
I don’t want any of this to end and not wanting it to end means still going along with it while I can. “Okay.”
He rolls out of bed and reaches his hand down for mine. Graciously accepting, he helps me to my feet. I want to kiss him and am about to but his smile lessens as he looks at me, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze drops away for the briefest of seconds and when his eyes return, they are confused, mystified. My hand is released, and he walks away. I don’t know what just happened, but he looked at me like I’m an enigma of sorts.
The door opens, letting in a faint light from the outside, and I follow now unsure in my decision to stay. He was happy, endearing in bed and now … now he’s back to the guy in the Maserati.
I walk outside and see him strip his briefs off just before diving in. Walking to the edge of the pool, I sit down with my feet dangling in the warm water. Swimming the length of the pool, he touches the other side then comes up for air. Gripping the edge of the pool behind his head, he asks, “You’re not coming in?”
I shake my head, confused by him. In the silence of the night, I hear the rustling palm fronds high above my head, the tide crashing on the beach, and Evan’s every stroke through the clear water as he swims closer. He stops, takes my legs in his hands, and floats in front of me. Staring into the blue of his eyes, his beauty has depth and yet his heart is so closed off. Regret was imminent. I had just hoped that it wouldn’t come until morning.
“I’m sorry, Mallory.”
I tilt my head down to look at him. He’s all wet and glorious in the water. “Why’d you act like that?”
Releasing me, he sinks under water avoiding my question or maybe he needs time to come up with the right answer. When he surfaces, he tugs my legs forward dragging me down into the pool. He pins my back against the side of the pool, pressing his chest against mine. One of his hands finds my waist, and he says, “I don’t know, but I’m sorry. I could see I hurt your feelings and I didn’t mean to.” His face is inches from mine, his breath chilling my wet skin.
I pull an ‘Evan move’ and drop from the confines of his arms straight down into the water. When I’m fully submersed, my languid body frees the tension, and my mind clears. I feel him against me. Opening my eyes, he’s glaring at me under water. He embraces me and carries me upwards for air. The air feels harsh against my throat as I gasp and then cough.
He shakes his head, angry when he speaks. “Are you trying to do yourself in?” Swimming to the side of the pool, he stares out into the blackness from where the sounds of the ocean drift toward us. “Don’t pull that shit again.”
I’m taken aback by his reaction and words fumble from my mouth to fill the awkwardness between us. “I wasn’t doing anything. I was only under for a few seconds. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“You were under for at least a minute, and I don’t know your water skills.”
“My water skills?”
“Do you even know how to swim?” His tone is harsh and it makes me defensive.
“Yes. Why are you so mad?”
He dives under, pushing off the wall, and swims to me. Feeling his way up my body, he reaches my mouth and kisses me. I don’t return the kiss … at first, but give in knowing this is obviously how he copes with his anger and because he’s so sexy when he’s angry.
The rage dissipates from his face as we part. His hand moves to the base of my neck and he pulls me closer. I glide gracefully through the water to him wrapping my arms and legs around his body. He holds the edge of the pool, supporting us then pushes forward, pinning me against the wall. His kisses become more aggressive as his tongue sweeps into my mouth like it owns the place, and he presses his erection against my already tingling sex.
He lifts his body up a few inches to appreciate the sensation that it brings to both of us which makes me moan into his mouth. I don’t know why he makes me do that. I never used to do that with Will. I’m not a moaner—usually. This makes me realize that A: We were either doing it wrong, or B: The sex just wasn’t moan worthy. I’m guessing B since it’s kind of hard to mess up the basic concept of intercourse.
My mind flashes back to the present as Evan’s mouth covers my neck with passionate kisses and his hand finds its way into my undies—technically, his undies, but I’m wearing them and staking claim because possession is nine-tenths of the law. Nine-tenths? Who cares about that right now? I berate myself because Evan is in my underpants, and I’m not paying attention.
His mouth is mesmerizing. I lean my head back to enjoy the magic he’s working on my neck. He nips, sucks, licks, and kisses all together in the perfect arrangement. His fingers rub across my wanting sex. When he parts me, they slide inside, and I sigh.
Forehead to forehead, we both try to catch our breath. Dipping down, his nose nuzzles mine in the sweetest of gestures. Evan leans back and looks at me through lust-filled eyes. His lids look as if he doesn’t have the strength to hold them open any longer, but he does, just to watch my reaction as his fingers begin their sexual dance.
My breathing is uneven and affected, and when I look at him, he appears the same. His hand moves effortlessly, causing a whimper to escape me before I can process the thought to stop it. Before embarrassment reaches my cheeks, he leans in, taking my bottom lip between his and gently sucks on it.
His mouth releases me, and I lean my head against his arm that’s stretched next to me, supporting us against the wall, and I close my eyes. Rhythmic fingers pump, edging me closer to bliss. At some point, I stop caring what sounds I make, or that I’m in a pool, or that I might drown in this sensation. As I strive for another slice of orgasmic heaven, my insides implode, leaving me calling his name and begging for more. “Evan! Fuck … I need you in me now.”
Without delay, he jumps out of the water, spins me around to face him, and hastily hauls me out of the pool like a ragdoll. He kisses me quickly then pulls me by the arm inside. Taking my soaked shirt by the hem, he pulls it over my head and tosses it out the open door and then strips off my underwear, throwing them outside without care.
Naked, dripping wet, and standing next to the bed, I shiver. The tension in the room is thick, heated, engulfing until he takes my face in both his hands and brings me to him. We kiss like we’re in love and for the time being I pretend we are. I lower myself to the bed, not waiting for an invite. He follows, mimicking a sexual version of a cat and mouse game. I move on my bottom to the top of the bed as he stalks me, hovering over me the entire time. My head bumps the headboard and he seems to delight in my entrapment. Evan tilts his head, taunting me, and asks, “Mallory, do you want me inside of you?”
I quirk an eyebrow. He’s egging me on, teasing me. “You know I want you inside of me,” I reply coolly. Two can play this ego game.
He leans down to kiss me, and I close my eyes anticipating his lips on mine again, but they don’t come. My eyes pop open when I feel his breath enter my mouth because he’s so close. “I want to be inside of you too, baby.”
Ba
by. I inwardly sigh at the joy of hearing that nickname again.
After grabbing another condom from the nightstand, he rolls it down his large and very ready length. Leaning forward on one hand, he strokes himself once then swipes up my entrance with his fingertips. It’s kind of crude and kind of hot at the same time. I move down a bit to a more comfortable position and prepare. He lowers himself, his lips meeting mine tentatively then he forges forth.
“Ahhhh.” The only sound I manage when he fills me, making me whole once again.
Then he hums. “Mmmmm.” The sound fills my mouth and heightens my pleasure and it tells me he feels the same way I do. I relax into the bed, dropping my weight even further. His body descends and I wrap my legs around his waist, still holding my mouth to his. I don’t want to complain because he feels amazing, but I need him faster, harder, and rougher. I just need him so much.
“More,” I beg. My orgasm gathers in strength as he relieves my mind of worries and thoughts. I can tell by his body’s movements that he’s getting close too.
“Mallory, beautiful, Mallory.” His words inspire my body into submission and as I tighten around him, he speeds up and peaks.
Evan weakens on top of me, lightly digging his fingertips into my wet, matted hair and he covers me with kisses. Our bodies become one as we lay there together all panting breaths and tired sighs. He whispers in my ear, “You’re incredible.”
Once again, I challenge his words against everything he said and did earlier in the day. He still leaves me beyond bewildered and yet utterly blissful. “Evan?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, sounding half asleep.
“You’re too heavy.”
His head pops up and looks concerned as he apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired.” He rolls off of me and smiles while adjusting onto his side.
“Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“That was incredible.” I lean forward and give him a nice chaste kiss then crawl out of bed.
I walk into the bathroom shutting the door behind me to freshen up. Standing in front of the mirror, I expect to find tired. I expect to see bags under my eyes from traveling. I expect a rat’s nest on my head from all the wet hair sexing. But I don’t find tired, bags, or a rat’s nest. I find beautiful and eyes that gleam with happiness. My skin is practically glowing from the inside out. I haven’t looked this good in a long time or maybe ever, and I owe it to Evan. That cocky, obnoxious, egotistical guy in the next room made me look and feel beautiful and sexy. I run my finger over my swollen lower lip when a small knock on the door breaks me from my most self-indulgent moment.
I open the door, still naked, and now proudly working my God given assets. My arm goes to the top of the doorframe and I lean against it tilting my hips in the opposite direction. Evan’s lips part, and though I like that as a start, I know I can do better. I drag my finger down his nose and catch his bottom lip with it, hook and release, hook and release, hook then release that pouty lip of his until he breaks his stance, succumbing to my trickery.
“You are so fucking hot, Mallory.”
That’s more like it.
“I thought you might want dry clothes.” He hands me another pair of briefs and another t-shirt.
I walk past him waving off the clothes, and say, “I’ll sleep naked.” Sitting down in the middle of the bed with one knee bent and the other leg straight, I lean back on my hands and toss my head back. In other words, I strike a pose just for him. “Unless you’d prefer me to get dressed.”
His mouth more than drops open, it hits the ground with a crash. His manhood stands erect to get a gander at me and I smile knowing he can’t hide his thoughts.
“Yeah, naked. Sure, you should … naked.” He doesn’t make much sense, but enough for me to know that I’ve gotten to him. There are absolutely no signs left of the narcissistic ass from the airport.
He backs into the bathroom, his eyes glued to my body while mumbling, “Naked, hot, nakedness …” After he shuts the door, I hear a whimper. I have him thoroughly bewildered just like what he does to me. Perfect!
I lay down, pulling the covers up over my still sensitive skin and wait for him to return to me. He stays in there a few minutes longer than I expected and I hear an occasional ‘You can’ from the bathroom. He might be psyching himself up to return. I don’t know, but it’s the only logical answer I come to before the door bursts open and he saunters back to bed. He lays flat on his back then hurriedly kisses me on the cheek, and says, “Good night, Mallory.”
I’m left dazed by the sudden change in his behavior, but too tired to over-think it. “Good night, Evan. Sweet dreams.”
I roll onto my side and he sidles up behind me hooking his arm around me and pulling me back, curled against his naked body. I fall asleep and dream of Evan’s kissable lips, diving into a pool filled with ecstasy, and hands roaming all over my body. That last part might have actually happened, but I can’t be sure.
4
Mallory
The morning sun awakens me to an empty bed and I sit up to look around. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach feeling the emptiness of the large room—Evan’s home.
Glancing at the nightstand for a note, I don’t see anything of interest. I walk into the kitchen and find no clue to where he has gone. After dressing, I open the back sliding glass door and take a deep breath of the sweet island air. A surfer far out in the ocean draws my attention.
I don’t know where Evan’s gone, but it stings waking up alone, left here to deal with my growing humiliation.
I continue watching the lone surfer and get lost in thought, eventually wondering if I should call a cab. I don’t. Walking back to bed, I lie down, not ready to leave this small taste of paradise. And being honest with myself, I can admit that I want to see him again and want him to make me feel better, to make this all right.
Another half hour passes and I hear my name called. “Mallory?”
I look up from the bed and glare at him. “Evan.”
He points over his shoulder, and says, “I did dawn patrol.”
“You were working?” I stand up, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.
He remains standing there, dripping wet and magnificent. “No, dawn patrol is surfing before sunrise. There were some great waves today.”
“So great that you couldn’t leave a note?” Sarcasm spills into every word.
“I, uh, didn’t think it would be necessary—”
“It’s not necessary? It’s a courtesy to leave a note.”
He doesn’t respond and stares at me with unsettling eyes. Raising the towel, he rubs it over his head, messing his hair up even more than it usually is, and ignores me.
Finally looking back at me, he says, “I see you’re dressed. Let me throw on some shorts and I’ll drive you to your friend’s place.”
My heart drops to my feet. How can he drive me to Sunny’s after the time we shared last night? Oh God! I think I started falling for him and he was being truthful. My eyes well with tears as regret colors my vision of last night, of Evan, and the memory of beautiful Mallory in the mirror. I fell for it. I fell for him. I let my carefully, crafted guard down and fell like every other girl who’s walked through that door.
I grab my purse. “Let’s go,” I say, pretending I’m not hurt that the old Evan is back and currently looking at me with no emotion whatsoever.
He trails behind me, keeping his distance, and it makes me wonder if he feels that is the safer thing to do. The car alarm chirps as we approach the Maserati parked in the driveway. I don’t look back, but I can feel the distance growing both physically and emotionally between us. I don’t wait for him to open my door though I remember from the airport and diner that it’s something he normally does for girls. Getting in, I shut the door quickly behind me before he can say anything, before my emotions free themselves and I cry. He loads my suitcase back into the car in silence then slides into the driver’s seat.
“What’s the address?
” he asks. Nothing more. His voice steady, unfeeling.
I hand him my phone with the address not wanting to talk for fear of either saying too much or saying the wrong thing, though I’m not sure there is anything I could say to damage us more than we already are.
He starts the engine, turns the car around, and we’re up the long driveway in seconds. It’s as if we don’t even know each other. It’s as if last night didn’t happen. It’s as if he didn’t have his dick inside of me less than eight hours ago. “Damn it!” I mutter, frustrated.
He looks at me, but says nothing.
That phrase ‘deafening silence’ applies to the feeling in this car. The heavy tension from the morning engulfs the vehicle and swallows us with it.
Pulling off the main road into the apartment parking lot, he mumbles to himself, “Building A.” He parks the car and comes around to open my door. His actions are too eager to feel polite. The gesture feels like he’s ready for me to go, so I take my time sliding out and walk around him. He doesn’t make eye contact with me, but turns his entire attention to removing my large suitcase from the backseat. After rolling it to me, he shoves his hands into his pockets. Not able to look or sound more awkward, he says, “I had fun.”
I scoff … loudly. Fuck him and his fun. I take the handle on my case and turn on my heel, wheeling the suitcase to the sidewalk.
Just feet from Sunny’s front door, he says, “Mallory, c’mon, don’t be like that.”
I stop and turn around. But my hurt heart and wounded ego keep me from saying what I really want. Instead, I steal the remaining shared seconds to memorize his physical beauty. But he’s different to me now, marred like a bad taste that lingers in my mouth. He doesn’t deserve to be that handsome. Evan abuses the world with his good looks and so-called truths.
I turn back around not giving him the pleasantry he wants and walk away. He’s gone before I have the door unlocked, but I’m not surprised. I’m just glad that I can use my anger to ward off the tears that would have normally been there at his parting. I realize I should’ve thanked him now. His demeanor this morning has made the hint of regret I was feeling dissipate altogether. I can already look at the situation for what it was, a fuck, mentally and physically.