by Marcia DM
“Oh, that? That’s just the receptionist fetching us dinner.” He smiles at me while taking the food out of the bag.
“And since when receptionists in motels like this bring room service?”
“Since never. We just had an agreement involving presidents.” He opens a beer can.
I let the subject go because either this pizza smells extremely good, or I’m hungrier than I first thought. We both eat like savages; it looks like I wasn’t the only one craving for food.
While I’m eating, I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking of. I for one am thinking about the cemetery and the situation that went down there. I’m ashamed of myself, for being that blind and stubborn. He specifically told me that something like that could happen, and it did. I put both of us at risk. Somehow, he knows I’m thinking and feeling this way. There’s this smirk on his face, and I can’t decide which expression it’s communicating, ‘I feel guilty’ or ‘I told you so.’ Probably a little bit of both.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Almost nine. Get some rest, we’re moving in a few hours.”
I look around the room for the first time since I got here; of course, it’s hideous, and there’s an awful smell. We should open a window, but I’m certain it’s not safe.
There’s a queen bed sporting a layer of dust on top, a bedside table with a working alarm clock which is surprisingly on time. There’s also a pair of old stools we just used to sit down and eat that yummy pizza. Judging by their condition, we were lucky neither of them broke in half. There’s a spot on the carpet that shows there used to be a couch which was recently removed for a reason I’m not sure I want to know. In short, there’s no other surface where Bruno can rest… Fuck my luck.
“Yeah, right,” Life mumbles.
I open the sheets and I decide there’s no way I’m sleeping without this dress. I pick up the pillow and I dust it with my hands a bit. Bruno picks up the bed cover and folds it in half, making it gain some height, then places it on the floor and stands by it, looking at it with frustration.
I sigh. “Bruno, don’t be ridiculous, you can take the other side of this bed.” He turns his head and looks at me over his shoulder with a frown on his face, as usual. He has already taken off his suit and tie. His shirt sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. This image makes him look younger.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I understand his concerns, but I can’t let him sleep on the floor like some stray dog, not after what we went through today.
“Are you going to make me beg you to come and sleep beside me? Come on, just walk over here and do it.” I don’t have to insist on it much more, he clearly wants to sleep on the mattress. He takes the gun holster off and puts it on the bedside table. Then, he enters the bed fully dressed, and I mean FULLY dressed— shoes and everything. I’m baffled, looking at him go about this. He’s clearly trying to make this as comfortable as he can… for me. He lies face up looking not relaxed at all. He reminds me of a mummy in a sarcophagus. I’m trying to keep it together and not laugh, but I fail and chuckle. I turn my back against him so that he won’t see me smile.
His presence fills the entire room. It doesn’t really matter if he’s by my side or not, having him around relaxes me, it makes me feel safe and that allows me to fall sound asleep in a matter of seconds.
Something brushes my stomach and I open my eyes frightened. The alarm clock reads 02.01 a.m. I still can’t focus, but now I don’t have to, I just felt it— it’s Bruno’s hand making its way towards my waist. I look up his arm until I reach his shoulder; then I realize he’s the closest he’s ever been.
It feels good.
It feels very good.
I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. I come to my senses and move a few inches away from him, even though I want to feel his warmth, in order to try to prevent the unavoidable shame. But that movement only makes Bruno’s subconsciousness aware that I’m moving away, and he grabs me once again.
God dammit…
“Oh, now you remember him?” Life says while laughing out loud.
By the way he breathes, followed by a small snore, I can tell he’s sound asleep.
What should I do?
“Sarah,” he moans in my ear.
I turn immediately to look at him. His eyes are closed, and his mouth moves as if he’s chewing something. I thrust my hip back and hit him with my butt, trying to wake him up. But it doesn’t work; instead, he clinches me once again and I can feel his dick aligning with my ass crack.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
An involuntary moan spouts from my mouth, blatantly exposing what I really feel.
Jesus fucking Christ!
I quickly cover my mouth with my hand before my body decides to make another embarrassing sound.
Nothing else will come out without my permission!
I gotta pretend I’m sleeping in case he heard me. That way, this is going to be just an anecdote.
At the same time, I can feel his body shifting a little, his breathing changed right before the movement started and his arm is not just lying over me anymore.
Oh shit, he’s awake!
He’s not moving away and neither am I!
My mind is going at a thousand miles per hour. I can picture him clearly right now, seeing us in this situation: our legs tangled together like a freshly made braid, us holding tight and not loosening up, quite the contrary— it’s getting tighter and tighter by the second.
Oh shit. What should I do?
“Sarah,” he whispers shamefully, as he starts to move away from me.
“Stay with me, please.” What? Did I just say that?
He doesn’t say anything back, he simply grabs my shoulder and pulls me until I’m lying on my back. I turn my head to look at him and notice that his eyes are trying to meet mine, desperately looking for reassurance. I can hear his breath; now it’s shallow.
The room is barely lit by a dim light coming from the street, sneaking through the windows and past the curtains. His eyes look heavy, filled with excitement and uncertainty. I wonder what he sees in mine. He closes the gap between our faces slowly, but my anxiety makes it seem even slower than it really is; so slow, that it triggers me to move forward, end the wait and finally reach his lips. We kiss and his tongue explores my mouth without a rush to later fuse with mine. He crawls on top of me without breaking eye or tongue contact. Once fully on top, he starts to feel my body with one hand, moving it from my breasts to my stomach, while he grabs my face with the other.
I… think… I think I wanna do this, once and for all.
I can’t wait any longer.
“Is this really happening? Am I going to make you mine, Sarah?” He asks, still hesitating about going forward or not. I nod three times before he can even finish the sentence. What else do you expect me to do? I’m already bewitched.
Suddenly, he stops kissing me. With a worried look, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” A lie.
“If you don’t wanna do this, then we’re not doing it. Your call,” he says while moving away from my face, doing a push up and pressing his dick against my pussy.
You bastard.
“No, it’s not that…” How can I explain that I’m ridden with fears?
“What is it, then?”
“I don’t know… It’s just that it’s been a long time since I last… you know. I don’t want to mess it up.” I break eye contact and I stare at the third button on his shirt.
He grabs my chin, pushes it up, forces me to look at him, and says, “I want you to be calm and relaxed, to enjoy it. Let me please you, for a change.”
“Okay, yes,” I agree.
“Okay, yes?” He seems puzzled.
“Okay, yes. I’m going to be yours.”
After he hears my answer, he doesn’t say anything. He just lounges back towards me and starts kissing me with such passion that all the hesitation I ha
d in my mind dissipates automatically.
He has an elbow on the bed, his mouth on my neck, a hand on my knee making its way to my thigh, hiking my dress up in the process. His lips jump from my neck to my ear and his hand from my thigh to my stomach, leaving my dress right below my chest. I can’t stay still, everything he’s doing feels amazing. His kisses go down from my ear to my neck, and right before reaching my chest, he makes a stop to give my dress one last pull, throwing it away in the same motion.
“I don’t want it in the way,” he grunts, but I suspect he’s just thinking out loud.
My naked body is in Bruno’s hands once again. But this time, everything is completely different.
Bruno dives straight into my tits, grabbing them and licking my nipples, making them hot and hard. I’m contorting under his body, unable to handle how crazy his lustful gaze makes me. He slides down where he wants to end up with determination. In the way, he meets my tummy for the third time and kisses it. But he doesn’t stop there, he keeps going down until he reaches my thighs. He kisses one, licks the other, switching back and forth, but this time slowly moving up towards my pussy— so slow that he makes me beg for it.
“Stop teasing me, please!” I grunt.
“So eager, all of a sudden,” he taunts me. “Say it.” He knows I can’t say it out loud, if I want to keep my pride.
“Just do it.”
“I want you to say it. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“I want you to eat my pussy!” He chuckles and breathes out on my clit. Then immediately penetrates me with his tongue… I grab and twist the bed sheets. I’ve never felt something like this before.
I feel so…. human again.
He smiles again and opens my legs to make more room for himself. That extra space allows him to dive in, and boy, dive in he does, like a hunter on his prey, without holding anything back, for survival, instinct and pleasure.
I’m soaking wet. I had forgotten what it feels like to be this horny and wet for somebody…
What am I thinking? I’ve never been this wet or horny before!
The touch of his skin triggers my body even more. I’m getting hotter and hotter by the minute and he can tell— of course he can, I’m not really trying to hide it.
I arch my back, trying to cope with the explosion of pleasure coming from my pussy. I’m still clinging to the sheets, harder and harder, as if somehow they’re trying to escape. It’s so intense that I instinctively try to move away from him. There’s only so much pleasure I can take after all this time. But that only makes him clinch to my legs even harder.
He licks and eats me with such passion that one could think he’s stealing my essence and putting pleasure in its place. I raise my head to look at him while he does it and I stumble upon his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes are not losing sight of me. He seems to be in some kind of trance between himself and my body. Both of them are taking me and my mind for a ride. I put my head back on the pillow and cover my eyes with my forearm. That makes him chuckle.
“Don’t hide from me. I want you to look at me and experience this moment with every sense you got,” he says and moves my arm away. Both actions are full of determination. He looks, sounds and is completely relaxed. He’s in control of the entire situation. I’m a hot mess. There’s no other way to describe it.
His thumb meets my clit. He plays with it and, in combination with his tongue, both take me to climax soon.
I explode in joy, I moan like a wild animal agonizing not in pain, but in pleasure. It’s so much more than I can handle. My body contorts, vibrates and feels like it’s being tickled from head to toe. Tears run down my face; but make no mistake, I’m smiling.
I breathe out heavily and signal that my orgasm just ended, and he can stop. But he doesn’t stop, he starts to do it faster and faster. I come once again, longer and harder than before.
I feel loved.
I’ve never experienced an orgasm like this and I’m also sure I’ve never thought of an orgasm as an expression of love. It used to be hard for me to explain such an emotion; it’s no longer the case.
When I regain control of my senses, I notice him slowly climbing on top of me. His sexy body’s wearing an unbuttoned shirt. I want him to take it off.
I want to feel his skin!
Finally, he takes it off. I stretch my hand forward to touch his abs. He smacks my hand, raises his index finger up and moves it left and right, clearly saying ‘no’ to me. He’s still in control and I love that. He unbuttons, unzips and pushes his pants down. I can see his hard-on through his underwear. I can’t stop looking at it. I bite my lip. He gets the message and takes his dick out, letting it fall on my belly.
“Are you sure you want this to happen?” He asks.
“Yes… Yes.”
“I want you to convince me.”
“Shut up! ...and fuck me.” Did I just say that?
I don’t need to make that request, because I start to feel his cock slowly penetrating me. He moans and I lose my mind every time. It hurts at first, but my body quickly adapts to his size and I start enjoying this like never before. He goes deep inside and pulls out, in and out, in and out, faster and harder every time. I lose track of time and my head in the process.
“Sarah, you feel amazing,” he whispers into my ear. “This feels… right.”
“It does.”
He thrusts forward, deep, very deep, and we both moan. That makes something inside of him click. The look in his eyes changes, he moves his ear close to my mouth and says, “I want to hear you moan. Moan for me, Sarah.” He thrusts again, and I moan. When my moan reaches his ear, he starts to go faster and harder. The fire inside me starts to burn hot again. He feels the same, he’s biting his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed.
I close my eyes.
“No, look at me,” he claims, and I obey.
We both come at the same time, looking into each other’s eyes. To my surprise, being able to look the pleasure in his eyes while he’s coming increases my orgasm tenfold.
In his last long thrust he unloads every single drop inside of me, and with his last drop of energy, he crumbles on top of me, completely spent.
I hold him with both arms while he’s still inside of me.
Nothing will ever be the same between us.
CHAPTER 26
CARTER
Itake the last puff out of my cigarette, toss it on the dirt and squash it with the sole of my boot. I look around this filthy parking lot and I can only think one thing.
This business needs to be taken care of.
Bruno’s life is and has been in danger since this gal appeared. I was hesitant at first, but I called him earlier today and he hung up after saying, “I’ll call you back,” which in any other situation would have been a more than okay response to end a conversation; but the tone he used was not. Something has clearly taken over his decision-making skills, which is why I decided I need to step in and end it.
Hell, being the hero once should not be bad, for a change.
I step away from my Harley and make my way to the bar’s entrance. My heavy boots leave deep footprints in this lot. The fucking sun shines more than ever and yet every single window is covered to keep everyone in there happy and spending.
Two big guys are chatting lively in front of the door. One of them notices me and with a single nod in my direction, he alerts the rest that I’m approaching.
“’Sup,” one of them says.
“Nothing much, bro. Just looking to grab a drink after riding for so long,” I answer without giving a fuck. Plus, I look the part.
“Oh, you ride? Those clothes look and smell new for a rider.” That’s right, my clothes are new.
“Do I have to look like a bum when I ride?”
One of them chuckles and says, “Nah, that’s right. He’s the only one who looks and smells like one.”
The rest start laughing after that joke. “Come right in. We serve a mean glass of bourbon in here.�
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“Sounds like my kind of bar.” Well, that was easy.
Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” is playing.
Is there a better song to enter a bar? I don’t think so.
“We’ll drive our ships to new lands
To fight the horde, and sing and cry
Valhalla, I am coming!”
It’s like the official soundtrack for this exact moment. The music is loud and I can feel the bass in my chest. But somehow the drunk people in here are louder than the music itself.
The following list describes a biker bar to perfection. A set of tables with their chairs, a front bar that has seen better days and an empty stage are the main attractions in this joint, all of them surrounded by dark wooden walls; spilled drinks and whores on the floor. The eighties just called, they want their bar back. I chuckle at my own joke. I must be crazy, which would explain what the fuck I’m doing here. I make my way to the front bar and sit on a stool that doesn’t fall apart— points for maintenance. Before I can even sit properly, the bartender approaches. She has a lusty look in her eyes. They’re not the only ones to give out a ‘good time’ vibe— her tits, contained for now, do the same. Dressed fully in leather, she looks completely fuckable. Just one minor detail though— she’s a Bad Blood old lady; otherwise, I would have been tongue deep inside that pussy minutes ago.
“Rough morning?” She asks.
“Oh, you have no idea, darling,” I reply with my signature ‘panty-dropper smile.’
She winks and says, “I got just the thing for that,” and before I can blink two shots of vodka appear in front of me.
“Oh. Hey now, two right off the bat. That’s a little too much to kick this day into gear,” I say jokingly. She chuckles.
“One’s for me, stud. I wouldn’t want you to unwind alone,” she says, and then turns around to serve the rest of the customers.
Damn, she’s smooth.
This life taught me to observe details without using my eyes, and in this particular scenario I have no other choice. If I so much as turn around to watch my surroundings, I’d raise a few eyebrows; and I’m not talking about the ladies. If the guys in here knew who I was, probably half of them would want to fucking kill me right on the spot because I— uhm… hehe, fucked their ladies. While the other half would love to fuck me first and then kill me. Bunch of psychos. I’ve got the street rep, but they don’t have a face just yet. That’s the importance of remaining unseen when playing this game. If you’re clever enough, you can live the life and still get away with it. I’ve had my fair share of jobs with gangs that used to hang out around here, and I also had to silence a few prezs and VPs to keep my head on my shoulders, clean and easy. Thanks to power struggles, I’ve never been out of a job.