Inamorato

by Keira Michelle Telford

Feigning discomfort, “So that’s why you shot her?”

  He stops thrusting.

  “Who told you that?”

  “She did.”

  Celia can see the anger rise in him, and his face turns red.

  “She should be dead,” he snarls through gritted teeth.

  He begins to pound her.

  She takes deep breaths, trying to concentrate. “And the grenade she claims you tossed at her? And her suspension? Did you have anything to do with those?”

  He drops her leg and looms over her, the sweat from his face dripping into her eyes. “I loathe her.” He places a hand over Celia’s throat, as if to throttle her. “If I could, I would choke the life out of her myself.”

  Still holding his hand against her neck, applying a little pressure to it, he starts thrusting again.

  “Would you do anything to be rid of her?” Celia whispers.

  McKean is close to climax. “Yes!”

  “Do you want to punish her for humiliating you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you want to teach her a lesson?”

  “Yes!!” He’s almost there.

  “Do you want her dead?”

  Those are the magic words.

  He roars as he unloads inside her.

  Celia looks up at him with a self-satisfied smile. She’d learned about evaluative conditioning during her general school psychology studies, but never before had she any reason to exploit it. The notion of altering or intensifying a person’s feelings toward something simply by coupling it with another stimulus that already evokes the desired emotional response is a fascinating concept, and one that she intends to use to her advantage.

  She reaches for McKean’s sweaty face and forces him to look at her. “You need my help, lover.”

  He’s out of breath and wheezing. As he withdraws from her, his abundant offering trickles out onto the bed sheets.

  “Why do you care so much about Ella Cross?” He wipes his brow with the back of his hand. “What did she ever do to you?”

  “She took something that belonged to me.”

  “So?” McKean shrugs. “Take it back.”

  “I tried that.” Celia sounds bitter. “It didn’t work, and now I want to make her suffer for it.”

  “And you know how to get her discharged?”

  “Better than that.”

  McKean looks intrigued. “Banished?”

  Celia writhes on the bed as if she’s in ecstasy. “Enforced.”

  Looking at her, McKean begins to grin. “You’re not kidding?”

  “I have a plan.” She beams at him. “And you’re a very big part of it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Roleplay

  With great care, Ella maneuvers herself out of bed and starts getting ready for school. She might’ve been forced to withdraw from the Hunter Division until she’s fully recovered, but she can still attend most of her classes at the Academy.

  Stumbling into the kitchen in an early morning haze of sleepiness—made worse by the potency of the painkillers the hospital put her on—she spots a copy of today’s newspaper on the kitchen table.

  The headline reads: General’s Daughter Shot. Culprit? Incompetence.

  Ella’s pissed. Not only does the article make her seem like an insubordinate, over-privileged little brat who ended up getting shot because she disobeyed a direct order, but it doesn’t even mention McKean’s name.

  “That bitch,” she mumbles as Maydevine walks into the room. She holds the paper up to him. “You don’t believe any of this, do you?”

  “How’re you feeling this morning?” he dodges the question.

  “Shitty.”

  “You don’t have to go in, you know. You could stay home and rest.”

  “I’m feeling much better. Honestly. Yesterday, I couldn’t even speak.”

  Maydevine looks sorrowful. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you at the hospital. I wanted to be.”

  “It’s okay.” Ella’s not that bothered. “Alex brought me home. He won’t get in any trouble for that, will he?”

  “I wasn’t around. If anyone asks, I’ll say he was acting on my behalf.”

  He looks carefully at his daughter. She hasn’t put on her Kevlar vest yet, and he can see the outline of her bandages through her shirt.

  “How many?” he asks.

  “Huh?”

  “Ribs.”

  “Oh, umm”—she counts on her fingers—“four, plus my sternum was cracked.”

  “Damnit, Ella. You could’ve died.”

  “I think, technically, I did die.”

  Maydevine doesn’t want to think about that. “I knocked on your door last night, but you were sound asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “It’s okay, Papa. Really. I understand why you weren’t there.”

  “No, it’s not okay,” he barks at her. “I almost lost you, and that is not okay.”

  Silence.

  “So is it true?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, almost afraid to hear the answer. “Did you disobey a direct order from a senior Hunter?”

  “No.” Ella shakes her head. “I mean, not really. I was trying to help.”

  “Does that mean yes?”

  “Does it matter? McKean shot me on purpose.”

  “He doesn’t deny that he saw you.”

  “He was as close to me as I am to you right now.”

  “Listen, Ellie, they tested the gun.”

  “Who did?”

  “The armory. When McKean got back into the city, he handed in the weapon and made a repair request. The trigger was defective.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  “He says it was an accident. The armory’s report on the weapon backs that up, and before you even ask, ballistics already confirmed it was the same gun that shot you.”

  Ella says nothing, she just stares down at the table.

  “It was an accident, Old Bean.” Maydevine squeezes her shoulder. “I know you were convinced otherwise, but the facts have already put this to rest. There’s nothing more to be done about it.”

  More silence.

  Ella feels a twinge in her chest and places a hand against her ribs. McKean might’ve managed to escape punishment, but she still doesn’t trust him.

  “I don’t want to work with him again.”

  “You won’t have to. I’ll keep him away from you, I promise.” Maydevine pulls her into a light embrace. “The two of you will never cross paths again.”

  As she presses her face against his chest, she notices that he’s wearing his uniform. He’s getting ready to leave.

  “Isn’t it your day off?”

  “I have a social engagement.”

  “Screwing Veva?” she assumes.

  He doesn’t comment.

  “Why don’t you guys just patch it up properly?” She looks up at him. “Whatever problems you both had in the past—”

  “She wanted more than I could give her, and that’s the end of it.”

  He breaks off from her and snatches his car keys up off the counter.

  Chastised for caring, Ella drops her head. “I just want you to be happy,” she mumbles.

  “As long as I have you, I couldn’t be any happier.” He kisses the top of her head, his tone instantly softer. “You’re all I’ve ever needed, kid. Nothing means more to me.” One more kiss. “Have fun in class. I’ll see you at dinnertime.”

  He leaves, and the house falls quiet.

  Ella’s cell phone vibrates.

  Alex.

  HOW ARE YOU FEELING?

  She responds that she’s much better.

  DO YOU WANT TO COME OVER?

  I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU.

  I PROMISE I’LL BE GENTLE.

  Suddenly much happier, she pops a couple of prescription pain pills and puts on her Kevlar vest. It hurts, but she does it anyway. She grabs her Academy book bag and an armful of books, and heads out.

  *************************

  Ale
x answers the knock at his door in five seconds flat.

  He hasn’t yet dressed for work, and he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt. As Ella stands on the threshold of his apartment, looking him over, she can see a prominent, tell-tale bulge in his pants.

  He’s been waiting for this.

  He’d woken up with a massive erection, and peeing had only offered a temporary solution. He’d been lying in bed, languidly stroking himself, when he’d thought to text her.

  She’s his TA.

  He’s in need of her assistance.

  “I brought the books you asked for, Mr. King.” She tries to look innocent. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  He plays along and opens the door wider. “Why don’t you bring them in and set them down on the table for me.”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. King.”

  Obediently, she strolls through into his kitchen and places the books down on the table, keenly aware of him watching her every step of the way. Dumping her book bag on the floor, she turns to face him.

  “What would you like me to do for you now, Mr. King?”

  He remains at a distance, watching her.

  “Will you do anything I say?”

  “I’m your assistant, Mr. King.” She smiles wryly at him. “It’s my job to satisfy your every need.”

  He takes one step closer.

  “In that case, I need you to take off your vest.”

  She unzips her vest slowly, making him wait as long as she can before showing him the curves of her body.

  He doesn’t move.

  “Show me more,” he commands softly.

  She sheds her weapons, kicks off her boots, and steps out of her pants. She’s wearing only her underwear and an Academy tank top.

  “More,” he whispers, still not moving.

  She wraps her fingers around the hem of her tank top, but hesitates.

  “I don’t want to.” She looks nervously down at her feet.

  “Why not?”

  She seems forlorn.

  “I look hideous.”

  “Take it off.” His voice is firm, but not threatening. “I want to see you.”

  Despite her reservations, she pulls off the tank top and reveals her war wounds. The stitched incisions are now bare, and her ribs are wrapped tightly to limit her movement. Above the torso wrap, where she was hit by the shotgun slug, her skin is dark purple. The massive bruise is centered at her sternum, where the slug impacted her vest, and it covers almost her entire chest.

  Alex’s eyes are glued to her.

  “Holy shit …”

  Ella hugs her arms around herself, trying to cover up the worst of it. “I warned you.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Ella scrunches up her face and glances down at herself. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  “Every perfect inch.” He keeps looking.

  “Are you joking?”

  “The bruises don’t matter, Silver. They’ll come and go, and they don’t matter to me.” He takes one step toward her. “Now take off the rest.”

  She loves the way her nickname just rolled off his tongue. Her confidence bolstered by his admiration, she strips naked and stands before him, awaiting his approval.

  “Do I please you, Mr. King?”

  She lifts herself up onto the edge of the table. The bulge in his pants appears to grow, and she wonders how he has the self-control not to do anything but watch.

  His eyes are pinned to the area between her thighs.

  “Spread your legs for me.”

  Aroused by this new experience of foreplay, she complies without hesitation. All the while, Alex demonstrates a phenomenal amount of self-restraint by still not moving an inch—not even to touch himself.

  He moans quietly. “Wider.”

  His jaw drops slightly at the sight of her, and the pace of his breathing quickens.

  Still, he doesn’t take a step.

  “Now touch yourself.”

  Ella frowns at him. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Really?” She appears self-conscious again.

  “Do it,” he pleads.

  Not wishing to disappoint him, she lies back on the table and closes her eyes. She tries to pretend she’s alone, and tentatively edges her fingers between her legs.

  She gasps.

  She didn’t realize how wet she was already.

  Seconds tick by and, gradually, she starts to relax.

  She starts to enjoy it.

  She doesn’t even notice that Alex is moving until she feels his hands start to slide slowly up her inner thighs, gently pushing her legs wider apart.

  She tilts her head up at him, but he won’t look back at her, his eyes are still fixed on that place between her legs.

  She’s never seen him so lustful: not smiling, not lighthearted, but serious and determined. Full of intent.

  His pants are undone now, giving him extra room. He’d needed it after she’d begun to play with herself; it’d gotten painfully cramped.

  Not sure what to do next, Ella sits up on the table and withdraws her sticky fingers.

  He grabs her wrist.

  At first, she thinks he’s going to make her carry on. Instead, he raises her fingers to his lips, puts them in his mouth, and sucks her clean.

  She has no idea how he’s able to hold back from doing more, and her own impatience is beginning to get the better of her. Reaching forward, she yanks down his jeans and exposes him.

  “Oh … wow …”

  He’s bigger than she’s ever seen him.

  Her stomach flips.

  All of a sudden, he grabs her ponytail and tilts her head back, forcing eyes up to his face. “Do you like how big you make me?”

  She can’t articulate the words to answer.

  She can’t nod; he’s holding her hair too tightly.

  She whines.

  She’s so ready to receive him, and as he leans forward to kiss her neck and breasts, his cock presses firmly against the wet skin between her thighs. As his mouth focuses on her nipples, his erection rubs against her clit so feverishly that she climaxes almost instantly.

  He barely even notices her soft whimper of delight.

  Without a second’s pause, he pushes her back down against the table and lifts her legs over his shoulders.

  The textbooks topple to the floor.

  He’s finally ready to take her, and as soon as he thrusts himself inside her, he loses all sense of that carefully maintained self-control that’d kept him at bay for so long. He’s teased himself so much that all he can think about is the payoff.

  He’s aching to unload, and he begins to fuck her.

  He’s so desperately eager to get to the finale.

  After the first few vigorous strokes, his hip begins to protest.

  He ignores the discomfort.

  He gets faster.

  Harder.

  He’s close, and although his hip is burning from the sudden, powerful exertion, he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied. Barely able to contain himself, he moans loudly as his release suddenly, violently comes. He clutches at her flesh, his nails digging into her, his deep, guttural moan echoing throughout the apartment.

  By the time his orgasm subsides, he’s sweating and out of breath. His heart’s pounding so hard, he can hear it echoing inside his head. Still inside her, he rests his forehead against her chest, catching his breath.

  Almost a full minute passes in silence.

  Then, “I’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling out.

  Ella sits up and frowns at him. “What for?”

  He seems ashamed, though she doesn’t understand why.

  “What’s the matter?” she presses him.

  He won’t meet her eyes. “That was all about me.”

  “I noticed.” She giggles.

  “I just needed … I wanted …”

  “People fuck, Alex. People who love each other very much still fuck. I may be inexperienced,
but I’m not naïve. Don’t feel guilty for wanting to come so badly it’s all you can think about.” She hops off the table and pulls on her clothes. “I’m a teenager. That pretty much sums up my whole existence.”

  Alex tucks himself back into his jeans. “I just don’t want you to think I’m using you for—”

  “I don’t.” Ella rubs her hand over his arm, reassuring him. “Honestly, you don’t have to be so delicate with me all the time. I was craving this just as much as you were.” She checks her invisible watch. “But we should probably get going. We don’t want to be late for class.”

  “Are you sure you’re well enough to attend?”

  She nods. “The people at the hospital said it’s better for me to be up and about. I’m not allowed to do any practicum, and I’ll be off the line for two weeks, but I can still come to class and do theory.”

  “Do you have a doctor’s note?”

  “Yes, teacher.” She pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and hands it to him.

  “Are you in any pain?”

  She pulls the pill bottle out of another pocket and rattles it. “Not anymore.”

  As she collects and holsters her weapons, she notices some sort of electrical device on a worktable by the window. Whatever it is, it’s all pulled apart into its individual components. There are wires and switches, and pieces of metal and plastic. Alex’s tools are scattered all around. Dangling over the arm of a work lamp: a pair of glasses.

  “I knew it!” She points at them. “I knew you had glasses!” She inspects the cluttered desk. “What’re you making?”

  “I’m repairing an old card programmer.”

  “What for?”

  “It’s a personal project I’ve started working on. I’ll tell you all about it if I’m successful.”

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  He’s not sure if she’s being sarcastic or not.

  “It’s all for your benefit. I promise.”

  She notices a copy of today’s paper tucked in amongst the clutter.

  Her smile capsizes. “Your bitch of an ex-girlfriend wrote a slanted version of events.” She digs the paper out and holds it up to him. “Did you read this?”

  “You can’t be surprised.” He takes it off her and tosses it into a nearby waste bin. “The two of you aren’t exactly gal pals. Of course she wanted to make you look bad.”