In the Absence of You

by Sunniva Dee

  I keep shaking my head, denying the build-up in my lower region. With a glance, I take in the utter sexiness of the man between my legs, the saliva moistening his chin from kissing me there.

  “Let her be. It’s okay,” Troy says.

  Emil reaches for me, finds the opening I denied Troy and enters me easily with his own fingers. I moan as he pulls slickness from me, rubs it over my clit. Troy dips back in to lick me clean. I shudder, so close to climaxing I don’t know what to do with myself.

  “You. Are so fucking wet, Aishe. I’m pretty sure you’re not lubricating for me right now. That’s all for Troy.”

  My heart races at his words. It’s crazy, unheard of. How can I react this way to someone who’s just a friend when the love of my life has my head in his lap? Troy looks up, a silent question in those strangely light eyes of his, and he’s absolutely delicious to me right now. If he asks, I can’t say no. I do want to feel him.

  Troy doesn’t ask. He lets himself fall over me, legs between mine and elbows keeping him raised above me. Then he dips in, lashes a quick kiss to my mouth, prodding it open with his tongue and making me taste myself. My heart does an out-of-control sprint.

  How far is Emil willing to go with me to prove a point? Surely, he wouldn’t want Troy to go… all the way? He’ll send our friend off while thanking him for messing with my head, right?

  Troy grinds against me, the thin fabric of his pants the only thing separating us. He’s so long and hard I gasp at the thought of him inside me.

  “Feels good, huh?” Emil urges, staring at me from above. His arms hold me still in his lap, and with one hand he plays with a stiff nipple. He leans closer, like he’s about to share a secret. “Are you ready to take him deep, baby?”

  I shake my head in a short, unsteady sway, then I moan again when Troy presses himself against my clit with such insistence I bend off the mattress to meet him.

  “You little liar,” Emil whispers. “Such a pretty little liar.” He withdraws from me. Fumbles in his pocket beneath my head, and pulls out a condom that he tosses to Troy.

  “Here, man,” he says, all business.

  Shaky, I try to sit up when they both let go of me, but propped up on my forearms, I freeze as Troy lowers those lounge pants and reveals his uncut length. It’s not tenting lazily anymore. It’s engorged and pointing right at me. I suck in air as he grasps himself, pulling the foreskin all the way back in one move, heated gaze meeting mine. At my side, Emil chuckles softly.

  “Yeah. I thought so. Hurry up with the rubber. It’s mean to let ladies combust on the spot.”

  Entranced, I watch Troy’s nimble fingers roll the condom onto his cock, leaving it pointy, shiny, ready to delve into me. I manage to shake my head again at them, but I am weak and needy, and I extend my arms to him, fingers pried wide as he sinks in over me.

  Troy kisses me softly, gently, like he’s as caring a lover as he is a friend. “Don’t worry, Aishe. If you want me to stop, no matter when, just say so.” Between us, his length prods my cleft, the hot need it produces almost too much.

  I sigh and lift against him, enveloping his body with mine.

  “Last call,” he whispers against my ear. “I won’t penetrate you if you don’t want me to.”

  Penetrate. Is the hottest word.

  “No need to ask, Troy. She’s too far gone. Just go right ahead and show her what she’s missing out on by being glued to me.”

  Emil’s words hurt, but the sweet sting growing between Troy and me drowns them out. When Troy’s width spreads me open, causing my walls to contract with pleasure around him, a small squeal rips out of me.

  The head of his cock barely breaches me, but he stills, waiting to make sure I’m okay. I puff with the urge to let go and climax this very moment. It’s too early. I don’t want to give up just yet. I want it to last, last—I want to enjoy this because once the heat has subsided, reality will slam in with all of its repercussions and regrets.

  I look up and find Emil’s face above my own. He leans in. Pulls my lower lip into his mouth in a nibble and lets go. “Does that feel nice?”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  “You want more? Find out what he’s all about, Aishe?”

  I want to say no, but I can’t.

  I bob my head again.

  “All right, dude. She’s all yours.” Emil gives me a last smack of his mouth and moves out from underneath me. I panic, not knowing what’s going to happen next. Deep down, I realize the absurdity of worrying over one man withdrawing. I should be relieved to be with just one, like a normal person, just—

  It’s my love fire withdrawing!

  “Where are you going?” I gasp. Troy crowds me, smooth skin and hard muscle wrapping around me, crotch jutting and meeting mine. I can’t help arching against him again, threading my fingers into his dreadlocks and pulling him closer. “Don’t leave—Ah!”

  Troy plunges deeper than any man has been. I see stars, shutting my eyes with the onslaught of desire. “Shit.”

  “I’ll be over here in your corner, babe, waiting with a towel.” I can’t reply to Emil’s teasing. He sounds far away. I’m deep inside myself, all sensation and burning desire.

  “Shut up, Emil,” Troy demands, voice husky with pleasure. “Stop harassing her. I’m going to make you forget that asshole, okay?” His jab makes Emil snicker, and I bite my lip beneath him as he joins us, withdraws languidly, then dives deep inside me once more.

  He’s slow and so sure of what he’s doing, mouth wet at my throat, licking, sucking, and driving me crazy.

  With each sinuous thrust, I swell around him until I ache, and little sounds I don’t recognize erupt from me. I need him deep. Deep, deeper.

  Emil disappears from my mind. He might be watching, but now it’s just Troy and me joined on Emil’s bed, our limbs entwined, touching and sweating.

  I’ve never been this intimate with anyone.

  He reads my thoughts and unconscious wishes. He gives me everything he has, rotating unhurriedly, finding pleasure points inside of me and rocking my body from within so we’re melded in the most delicious of ways.

  When I’m on the verge of coming, he changes our rhythm, making me shudder with longing beneath him. He kisses me so deeply I think he has a love fire somewhere too that he projects onto me.

  My body is stiff with pent-up need by the time Emil breaks in with a demand. “Troy. You’re wearing her out. Let her come already, man.”

  “Yeah?” Troy puffs, plunging deep within me and making me cry out as he does. “Am I wearing you out? Can you not take it any longer?”

  “I—yes, please,” I say, agreeing with Emil for once.

  “So… you want to orgasm on my cock? Shudder a bit for me?” he whispers hotly against my ear. His voice must not be low enough, because Emil laughs softly from the recliner he’s watching us from.

  “That’d be good.” I try to sound flippant, but really, I’m about to cry. I hook my heels into his ass and drag his big body as far into me as I can. I’m so full of him, so full of this crazy pleasure I don’t know what to do to ease it.

  Troy does.

  He cups my face between his hands and lowers his forehead to mine, eyes glinting above me in the semi-darkness. His movements become faster over me, urging me along, digging into me, hooking so far upward that he rubs my clit with his groin. I let out a small sob with relief as the climax builds in me and he doesn’t slow down.

  “More?” he whispers.

  “More…” I say.

  “You’re tightening, baby. You feel so good.”

  I shatter into tiny pieces, the pleasure bowing me off the bed and into him. It’s so intense I scream out. Troy keeps working me, working, working me, until my inner thighs are moist with my orgasm.

  “You’re a goddess,” he mumbles. He separates us, making me whine with discomfort. I only feel empty for a few seconds. I’m flipped around, carried to the office desk and set down in front of it. With a foot, he pushes Emil
’s recliner out of reach and bends me over the desk, face toward the mirror and back against him.

  Troy leans his big body over me, staring deep into my eyes in the mirror while he caresses my crack down to my pussy. “I’m going to finish this now, okay?” he says. I meet his gaze, mouth slack with agreement, because I’m still weak from the orgasm that just wracked my body.

  Troy enters me in one hard shove, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. His pupils widen with pleasure, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s serious, focused, and as he works me quicker, faster, harder from behind, a sheen of moisture appears on his smooth forehead. God, the man is stunning, and I…

  Wow, it’s my body making him squint his eyes shut and groan right now. He’s swelling. He’s too big in me. I almost back away, but then again it won’t last long.

  “God, you feel amazing,” he praises. I lean my chin against the desktop, flat and submissive to him as I reach back to dig into his buttocks with my hands. I know what I want now. Even if the pleasure is laced with pain, for these last seconds, I want as much of him as I can.

  I lift my head so I can watch him in the mirror again when he jerks erratically. So pretty, I think.

  Afterward, he leans against my back. It’s an uncomfortable position now that we’re not doing it anymore. His arms go around me, holding me tight against him, and I rise slowly and watch our reflection. His arms half-cover my breasts. It’s haphazard, like he isn’t thinking about them as sexual anymore.

  He opens his eyes and meets mine again. They’re calm now, smooth, a safari green that glimmers with satisfaction. He turns me so my butt hits the edge of the desk behind us. Embraces me again and enters my mouth with his tongue. Another deep, soft kiss even though we’re all finished. He got sex. I got sex. Emil got to watch—we both complied and executed Emil’s perverted plan.

  The recliner squeaks behind me, and we both swing our heads to look at Emil. Naked as the day we were born, we stand there watching the puppeteer, the small smile on his face and the way his hands thread at the back of his head while he relaxes in the chair.

  “Told ya,” is all he says. “Told ya.”

  AISHE

  The writing’s on the wall, is that what they call it? If Emil hasn’t been clear with me before, what would I call this?

  Jesus, I’m stupid.

  But love makes you stupid. Ask Aunt Jolanka, my great-grandpa, my little sister. Just, I wasn’t going to become them.

  Now I am.

  The tender expression on Troy’s face dissipated as soon as I landed from my high and began throwing stuff at him. Now, I’m shoving Emil out the door of his own room. He lifts his hands, palms toward me in surrender. He’s not the puppeteer anymore, and there are apologies and explanations on his lips I’ll never listen to.

  “Do you have any idea what a despicable human being you are? Do you see what you just did? You. Just. Raped. Me!” I yell at Emil, not Troy.

  Emil pushes back inside, eyes narrowing at my tone. “Aishe, calm down. That was seduction and you know it. You wanted it so bad you almost came before he entered you.”

  “Get out of my room, asshole!” I’m so mad, so sad. I want to kill him with my bare hands. “I realize you don’t give a shit about me, but guess what? I thought you at least were a decent person. There is nothing decent about you. You! Deserve that Zoe left you. She was smart and took off before you could destroy her the way you’ve destroyed me.”

  My hands form claws then fists in front of his face, as if I’m crushing his heart like he’s crushed mine. “I hate you!”

  Troy’s eyes are big and sad from the hallway, as if he really believed he could make things better by taking me on Emil’s bed. How twisted are these guys? I thought I knew them.

  Troy was always there, picking up Emil’s slack, helping, saving me in the nick of time. He was a major part of what made my days go by with a sheen of optimism.

  We were friends.

  “Stop yelling,” Emil pleads. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have to.”

  “You had to make your friend sleep with me? Do you hear yourself? You need to get lobotomized, because there’s nothing right about you.”

  I laugh-cry, thinking back at him watching me climax with my friend, with his friend. It’s not natural, not how people are. No one does what he did to me.

  “You know what?” I say but letting him lead me back inside the room; I’m not done sputtering hate at him. “I’m going to call the cops on you. And guess what? I’m going to tell them you raped me, because that’s exactly what you did: you offered me up like some animal in heat to whomever was close by.”

  “No, Aishe, get it together! You like him. He likes you. It’s—”

  “—only right to make us copulate for your entertainment?” I scream.

  Emil turns to Troy for help. Troy is brave. He hasn’t left the doorway. Troy’s head slumps forward in regret, in—I don’t know. Does he realize? “Troy, do you see what the fuck you guys just did?”

  Corn tresses bob up and down in front of me. Long and dark, I somehow fixate on how they touch the doorjamb while he nods. “Yeah,” he grates out. “I get it. I’m sorry. It was a sick idea.” Troy raises his face, golden and apologetic in front of me. Then he slides the door closed behind him.

  They’re both inside again, Emil reaching out to stroke my arm, like he’s consoling me, like he’s someone who’d protect me.

  Against whom would he protect me? Men like him?

  I jerk my arm free, the first time ever since he decided I was worthy of his attention. The stupid terrycloth bathrobe doesn’t cut it for me after what I just did, so I’m fully dressed again. I’m even wearing my shoes, that and a blanket over my shoulders to hide my torn-asunder, skimpy top. I’d wield a sword if I had one.

  I should have listened to Shandor. We’d be far from this man who isn’t content with making my heart bleed. No, tonight he stuffed it in a blender with a few ounces of water and hit “High Power.”

  I straighten. Tilt my chin up as if I have any say if these tall, strong men want to fold me back into the sheets again. From the remorse in their looks, their physical superiority doesn’t cross their minds.

  “Just get out.” Though I’m not yelling anymore, I say it with simmering conviction.

  “Aishe, let’s cool down and talk—” Emil starts.

  “I said: Get. Out.” My blood’s at the boiling point. They better obey right the fuck now.

  Emil’s blues meet Troy’s light greens in question. Troy nods, supporting my demand. “We owe it to her if she wants to be left alone. It’s the least we can do.”

  And as the door closes after them, I look forward to making the rest of the tour a living hell for Emil. Because—

  It’s the least I can do.

  AISHE

  At breakfast, I stomp into the restaurant and whack Emil straight in the face. Besides standing up, Emil has no response. He doesn’t even touch his face where I hit him. Silent, he just walks off.

  Who does react is my cousin. Shandor gets up so fast his chair tips over. He doesn’t exchange a single word with me before he lunges after Emil and chases him down in the corridor. “You want to talk?” I hear him shout.

  “Hell yeah,” Emil roars back.

  I’m beyond caring about anything but my slushie heart. Irene tries to calm me down. Troll approaches, wanting a word. But the one who gets me out and into a dark corner of the hotel lobby is Troy.

  I jerk away when he tries to take my hands. Troy’s palms flatten, erect in the air, showing me that today he won’t make me.

  “Why?” I manage, chin quivering with the disrespect of last night.

  “Because we wanted you to move on. We were miserably wrong about the way we handled it, and I’ve learned the lesson of a lifetime. What we did was coercion, and it should never have gone down. I— It’s not an excuse, but you, to me…” Troy shakes his head, cutting himself off. Elbows on his thighs, his head drops.
“I’ll never be that impulsive again.”

  “No, you should be more impulsive,” I hear myself say. “You’re too measured. You never do stuff without thinking it through a million times first—but to make love to someone has got to be a mutual agreement from the very fucking beginning.”

  My friend. My friend.

  Slight wrinkles form a horizontal message of surprise as Troy’s stare lifts to mine. “You got that, huh?”

  “What?”

  “That I was making love to you.”

  “Obviously.” I want to scoff it out, but then I understand even before he continues.

  “I wasn’t just fucking you.”

  It’s my fault that I can’t stick around to make Emil’s life miserable during the last days of the tour. I shouldn’t have hit him. Thanks to my actions, Shandor handed in our resignations and only let me know after the fact.

  I got on the band bus to pick up my last paycheck, and there he was, Emil, with both eyes swelling shut after his “talk” with my cousin. Once Emil revealed what had happened, Shandor punched him repeatedly, and all Emil did was close his eyes and let him take his fury out on his face. I look at Shandor now, across from me on the business class flight Troll booked for us with destination Minneapolis. Shandor doesn’t have a scratch.

  Fuming, Shandor told me that Emil had smiled, proud of what he’d made me do. I’ve cooled down enough to know Shandor is wrong; a serious beating was probably what Emil wanted. That was him relieved about paying his dues. It was Emil not giving a shit where life takes him next.

  In Minneapolis, Ashton, the tour manager of The Thalias picks us up at the airport. He’s efficient, fast, his brain going a million miles per minute.

  “Deliver it to Luxury Greens Hotel,” he demands when the airline has displaced my suitcase. “As long as it’s in before five p.m., Wednesday, we’re good.” He turns to me. “What do you need that’s not in your hand luggage? Clothes? Toiletries?” I nod to him over the missing items. I smile too, but my mind isn’t in Minneapolis.

  I need time to absorb how things escalated by the time we left Clown Irruption. Shandor would never understand the dynamics between Emil and me, so I won’t try to explain. It’s just me and my mind.