“Can’t you guess?” I raised one eyebrow and made the sound of squealing brakes and a car crash.
A small chuckle escaped her; it had an edge to it that I didn’t understand. “Oh, I see. Well, at least he didn’t just fire your arse, I guess.”
“Yeah, well, that’s next if I don’t get my shit sorted.”
“What’s to sort?” she asked, seeming genuinely confused. Her gaze met mine and offered the perfect answer to her question. It was the memory of those eyes that haunted me around the track. I wasn’t about to admit that to her though. How could I tell her that she was the reason my career was in the fucking toilet even though we hadn’t spoken two words to each other in years? Before I’d wound up seated next to her on the flight at least.
There was a softness to her stare that I didn’t want to acknowledge. A compassion almost, which I certainly didn’t need. I couldn’t cope with her looking at me like that. It set me on edge, making me clench my fists even as my cock swelled.
“I don’t fucking know, all right?” My jaw pressed together tightly as I twisted free of her gaze. I leaned against the fireplace mantle. “That’s the hard part. How do you fix something when you don’t know what’s fucking broken?”
She issued an exasperated sigh from behind me. I wasn’t sure what I would see if I turned to look at her, but I was certain it wouldn’t help me.
A minute passed, then two, and neither of us said anything more. I stared steadfastly at my own reflection in the darkened TV and regretted asking her to come back to the apartment. It had seemed like such a good idea on the plane, but I didn’t expect her to launch straight into questions that cut to the crux of my visit. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to discuss those questions with her.
“Um, okay, well.” Alyssa was no doubt trying to break the tension that made the room stifling when she spoke, but her voice sent the image of her eyes and the sound of crunching metal coursing through me again. “I’m going to take a shower and then try to get some sleep. I want to be awake when it’s time to get settled into my hotel.”
I nodded before allowing my gaze to leave my own reflection and focus on hers. With a few deep breaths I was able to purge the emotions that had taken me in their grips. The reminder that she would be leaving in just a few hours made me more inclined to hurry up and work out what the fuck I needed to do to get her out of my mind when I was driving. I could have said something to invite her for a drink and get the process started, but I didn’t feel up to it yet.
“Sure. I’ll try to find you a towel,” I said instead.
I carried Alyssa’s suitcase up the stairs. There were two bedrooms; one had a king-size bed, the other two singles. I put her suitcase on one of the single beds before thinking better of it. She’d always loved her space when sleeping. Even in primary school, she’d slept on a double bed. Whereas I could sleep anywhere, and had when the occasion had called for it. With her in the next bedroom, I doubted I’d get much sleep anyway. My insomnia was bad enough when she was almost one thousand kilometres away, I couldn’t begin to imagine how terrible it would be with her just metres away.
“Would you prefer the king-size?” I asked.
“No, it’s fine. You’re the one staying here for your holiday. You may as well get settled as soon as possible.”
Nodding again, mostly because I couldn’t find adequate words to say anything else at that point, I left to hunt through the cupboards for a towel. I hoped the fact that it was a guest accommodation would mean everything was fairly strategically placed. While I searched, I heard Alyssa start on the water in the bathroom. The door was shut when I passed again, so I didn’t enter. Even though the thought was somewhat tempting—after the glimpses I’d got on the plane, I longed to see all of the changes in her body up close and personal.
When I spotted the open door for what would be her bedroom for the night, I decided I would just leave the towel on the bed for her. It hadn’t taken her long to get somewhat settled in and the contents of her carry-on bag were scattered all over one of the beds. Her suitcase sat next to the mess; open and practically calling out an invitation to snoop. Even though I tried to resist the call, my gaze slid across the contents as I laid the towel on the bed. Everything was mussed up in the suitcase, as if she had been looking for something.
Holy fuck!
At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes, but the longer I looked, the less I could deny what I was seeing. Resting pride of place on top of the messy mountain of clothes was a pink vibrator. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen one of course, but the thought of it being Alyssa’s made my cock hard and my cheeks burn red. I spun to leave the room before she caught me intruding so absolutely on her privacy. In my haste, I hadn’t noticed that the water had stopped in the bathroom or heard the footsteps in the hall, but I collided with Alyssa in the doorway. In her hands, she clutched a shirt I recognised as the one she’d spilt coffee over when we’d been on the plane.
“Hey, I was just rinsing this again . . .” Her voice trailed off as she took in my blush. Her eyes flicked over to her suitcase, and then it was her turn to blush. She walked over to the bed and flicked the lid of her suitcase shut. When I looked over to her, she had her eyes closed and her hand rested on top of the black material of her luggage as if it was trying to burst open again. I could almost hear her silently willing the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Something needed to happen to relieve the tension in the room or it just might kill us both.
“So how long are you over here for?” I asked. My brain chose that exact moment to see the hilarity in the situation, so my voice was infused with laughter.
She covered her face with her hands and groaned into them. When she pulled them away though, it looked like she had a small smirk on her face. “A week.”
“Wow, only a week?”
She turned to me. She was definitely smirking now. “I’m a woman, Declan. I do have needs.”
It was clear that I’d been right when I’d assumed she must have grown into an absolute sex goddess. “Needs that must be met regularly, I see.”
“Well, it’s not like I get loads of external offers like you.”
I cast an appraising eye over her body and moved closer to her. “I find it hard to believe you wouldn’t get all the opportunities you wanted.”
Her smile fell a little in response. “You’d be surprised. Besides, I’ve found it easier to make my own opportunities. That way I don’t have the messy complications after the fact.”
“What complications?” I asked, lifting one shoulder up in a half shrug. I was so close to her now, I could reach out and touch her—so I did. My fingers brushed the hair off the back of her neck so that it fell over one shoulder. A slight shudder raced across her skin at our contact. “If you really want it, there’s always someone willing to give you a bit of wham, bam, thank you ma’am without the strings.” I whispered the last words against her neck, my lips practically ghosting her skin. If I was any closer, she would have felt my erection poking into her back.
I ran my words over in my head again after they were out. Had I really told her she should go and screw a random stranger?
She moved away from me, climbing onto the bed to escape. When she looked back at me, there was sorrow in her gaze. “There’s always strings.”
I shrugged. “Not in my experience.”
Which was plenty enough.
She narrowed her eyes at me, and then she swallowed hard. “Maybe.” She moved to the side to get around me, a change of clothes and the towel I’d brought in held tightly in her arms—almost as a shield. She danced just outside of my arm’s length and as she moved, kept her front to me the whole way. “I guess I’ve never investigated it that thoroughly. I’ve always been too busy with uni and Ph— stuff.”
She only turned when she reached the door. I took that as an indication that she was ready for the conversation to be over. I wasn’t sure that I was, but I wasn’t exactly sure about anything since I’d realised I’d be sitting ne
xt to her on the plane. Following her out, I wondered what the hell was going on with my head. If he wasn’t such a quack, I would have almost considered calling Dr. Henrikson, my former psychiatrist, to figure it out.
“I’ll, um, I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” I said as she retreated to the bathroom. I leaned against the wall and watched her fight with the bathroom door with her arms full.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll just shower and then head to bed.”
I nodded. “I’ll go next.”
“Oh shit, actually, is there a phone here?”
I frowned at her question. “I don’t know if it is connected, but I saw one on the desk when we came in. You can give it a try.”
“I have to make a phone call first, if you don’t mind? Mum will probably send Scotland Yard if I don’t call her soon.”
It was something I could see Ruth doing—at least the Ruth that I remembered. “Easy fixed then, you make your call and I’ll shower first. I’ll be done before you’ve finished saying hello.”
Grabbing one of the towels, I headed out of her room. At the very last second, I stopped and my eyes trailed back into the bedroom—to her suitcase—and then back to her. She blushed again, and I couldn’t help but smirk at her before I left.
When she went down to make the call, I followed her to the stairs to see if she’d get through. After a moment, I heard her say, “Hi, Mum,” so I assumed the phone must have worked. I tried not to listen as I turned for the bathroom, but the occasional sentence, like, “How is she? Is she eating?” and, “Put her on,” floated up the stairs to me.
While I showered, my brain was running loops around our conversation. Not only had I learned that Alyssa couldn’t go a week or two without an orgasm, but she didn’t get them from other people very often. At least, she hadn’t until then. I just had to go and convince her to fuck random guys because it wasn’t that difficult to fuck without attachments.
Fucking idiot!
How on earth had that conversation gone so far off track?
CHAPTER ELEVEN: WHISKEY AND ICE
AFTER I’D HAD the briefest of showers, focused on hygiene and not much more, I headed downstairs. Alyssa was just hanging up and offered me a small smile.
“See you in a few hours,” she said.
I nodded and headed toward my goal. My suitcase was still by the kitchen and held a rather bountiful supply of duty-free alcohol. I opened it only far enough to pull out a bottle of top-shelf whiskey and set about hunting down a glass in the massive kitchen. Once I’d found one, I pushed the glass under the ice-maker on the fridge, half filling it with cubes. I poured a triple shot of the whiskey over the top.
My intention was to relax and enjoy the flavour, but once the glass was at my lips I tipped it all down my throat. I hadn’t realised how much I needed it after the flight and subsequent revelations. It was still difficult for me to process the fact that at that precise moment, Alyssa was in the bathroom upstairs—naked.
I poured another, larger, drink and carried it with me over to one of the oversize armchairs. I flicked on the TV but didn’t pay attention to it. My mind was occupied thinking about what it might be like to be upstairs in the shower with Alyssa. Instead of wild imaginings of what she would look like, I recalled the time we had a shower together, in the hotel room after our year twelve formal.
Even as I sat on the sofa, removed by years and proximity, I could easily recall the feel of my hands running along her water-heated skin. The lather from the soap removing all the friction between our bodies. The taste of the water as I sucked it off her breasts. I downed the second glass of whiskey in a rush. I was so fucking hard it was uncomfortable.
After getting a third drink, I returned to the couch and turned the TV off. It was pointless noise that I didn’t really need. I tried to savour the taste of the whiskey instead of gulping it down like a lifeline. For the price, it was a drink designed to be enjoyed, not skulled as fast as possible.
I put the glass to my lips again and sucked a small sip into my mouth and let it rest on my tongue. While I did, my mind supplied me with the incredibly hot, but unhelpful, images of drinking it off Alyssa’s skin. I decided that maybe I needed to make opportunities of my own.
Alyssa was safely tucked away upstairs in the shower, and apparently had no intention of coming back downstairs. She’d said she was going straight to bed after her shower after all.
I raised the glass again taking another, slightly larger, sip. While I did, I sucked one of the ice cubes into my mouth and rolled it around on my tongue, imagining I was swirling it around Alyssa’s nipple. I moaned at the thought.
The cold focused my attention on my mouth, making it a little less noticeable that it was my own hand sliding up my thigh. It was almost easy to pretend it was Alyssa’s.
I popped the button on my jeans and slowly slid down my zipper. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the taste of the ice and alcohol in my mouth as I pushed my hand into my boxers. I thought of Alyssa under the shower, wet and glistening, and so fucking tasty.
The water in my mouth from the ice seemed to become infused with her flavour. I grabbed hold of my cock and slid my hand along the length. This was my perfection. It was the sort of relief I’d sought with hundreds of nameless, faceless women and never found. The sort of relief which only fantasies of Alyssa could provide. I closed my eyes and leaned back into the chair, sinking further into my fantasy and allowing my hand to glide up and down the length of my exposed shaft to the image of Alyssa imprinted in my brain. It wasn’t me holding myself—it was her. Her hands. Her mouth. Her body.
Her on her knees in front of me, her head in my lap and her lips wrapped around my cock.
Oh fuck, baby.
The ice in my mouth grew smaller and smaller as my body heated with the lust and excitement that raced through me. It had been so long since I’d let myself truly enjoy a fantasy about her. I rolled the ice cube around my mouth one last time before swallowing the mouthful. I left my hand on my erection as I leaned forward with the other to grab the glass and claim another piece of ice. I opened my eyes to locate the side table and met an amused, honey-gold gaze staring at me. Her delight only increased as a warm blush crept up my cheeks.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she said with a chuckle.
Holy fuck!
I pulled my hand out of my boxers and zipped myself up. My erection was almost painful, pulling my pants tight as it sought desperately for the release promised only moments earlier. It would have to wait though. It wasn’t polite to masturbate in front of guests.
“Fuck. Sorry, Alyssa.” I said, running my hand—the one that hadn’t been down my pants—through my hair quickly before downing the rest of the whiskey.
She laughed. “I guess everyone has needs.”
She had no fucking idea.
My needs grew exponentially when I saw the tank top and pants set she was wearing. It was thin white cotton with small pink flowers all over it. She had no bra on and the white cotton was almost completely see-through. Through the material, I could see the thickest black lines of her tattoo, and could clearly make out her erect nipples. The sight was too much. I wanted to put my mouth on her tank top and make out with her nipples. She wasn’t wearing panties either; I could see the dark triangle of hair between her thighs. As if I hadn’t already been hard enough before she came downstairs.
“I just came to get a drink.” She smiled, seeming completely oblivious to her lack of adequate coverage.
“You want some whiskey?” I croaked, holding up my empty glass. Fuck knows I need some more.
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
When I stood, my erection rubbed uncomfortably against my boxers and jeans. With some difficulty, I walked with an air of nonchalance toward the kitchen. I tipped the mostly melted ice from my glass into the sink and topped it up with some fresh cubes. Then I grabbed another glass for Alyssa, put some ice in it and poured us both a double shot.
&
nbsp; The whole way through the actions, which should have been routine and easy, my heart pounded. My head swum, but I wasn’t sure whether that was from the alcohol or from the lack of blood in my brain. I turned to take Alyssa’s drink to her but found she’d followed me into the kitchen.
“So . . .” Alyssa said awkwardly as I handed her one of the glasses.
“So?” I responded, finding it difficult to understand what she wanted to say. In fact, I was finding it difficult to even stay upright or think. Processing anything other than the need for another sip, and my aching desire for her touch, was so far beyond my capabilities it wasn’t funny.
“So, do you really think two people can just fuck with no complications?” She rolled the glass between her hands, sloshing the liquid around and clinking the ice cubes together.
Confused why we were back on the topic, I struggled to keep up. She’d ended the conversation about it pretty abruptly when we’d been upstairs. “Sure. What I mean is, I’ve done it before. If everyone’s upfront about what they want, what’s the issue?”
“And you’ll do it again.” I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.
“I guess.” I wondered what her point was. Was she going to have a go at me about sleeping around? If she was, she was going to have—
“Good,” she said, stopping my thoughts in their tracks. She smiled and held up her glass. “To fucking—with no complications.”
After she clinked my glass, she threw her drink back like a pro.
I placed my untouched glass back on the island in front of me as I frowned in confusion. Alyssa rested hers beside it. I tried to get my head around the conversation, but nothing added up like it was supposed to. I’d had far too much to drink for it to make sense.
Before I could register what was happening Alyssa’s lips were on mine. She tasted like the alcohol and her tongue was cold from the ice in her drink.
I was asleep. It came to me in one blinding realization. It was the only thing that made a lick of sense and the best explanation I could come up with for why Alyssa’s tongue was in my mouth and her hands were tangled in my hair.
Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1) Page 11