Slick as Ides

by Chanse Lowell

  “Was it good for you?” Nope. That’s not the plan, Nick. Shut the fuck up now. I rub my chest.

  She glowers and looks away, keeping silent. My eyes rake over her body, and instead of unbuttoning a few on her dress to taunt me, she’s done the opposite, looking almost frail and virginal, with her dress all modest and blue like the innocent sky, and fastened up to her neck.

  Fuck. She’s killing me. This is worse. I’ll be imagining tearing those buttons off with my teeth now, just to get at her, and release her inner slut.

  “I always say a break can be a nice thing. Wouldn’t you agree, Riot?” I ask her lawyer.

  His brows shove together, and then his head suddenly snaps toward her pouting figure, turned away from us.

  He shoots me a death glare, and I chuckle.

  It’s pretty obvious he thinks I fucked her during the fifteen minutes we were away.

  God, I should be so lucky.

  I step back over to my side of the room. Jason grins, and the judge returns, taking a seat.

  The pen lands right back on his lips while he swivels his chair a little.

  “This is what I see,” he begins. “This is indeed a weapon, and I rule in favor of the plaintiff. They have all rights to this invention, and as such, the deal is null and void. The defendant is to receive half the payment originally agreed to since Ides Notions Inc. overshot the mark, taking no thought on how this new invention could be a menace to society.”

  Dena stands up but remains quiet.

  The judge motions for me to step forward, and he hands me back the implement.

  “I hope Shilling Corporation has experts that can dismantle this thing and make it safer so I don’t have to be faced with another lawsuit down the road on this contraption and deal with the ramifications of reckless inventions.”

  “They do.” I nod. They have Jason and me. We can do whatever the fuck we want to this thing. “It’ll be taken care of.”

  The judge dismisses us, and before I catch her out in the parking lot, she’s gone, and Riot’s disappeared as well.

  “Keep your dick in your pants, Son,” the boss says, chuckling as he passes me up to get to his Ferrari 599.

  I laugh. Not because he looks kind of childish in that thing, but because she had a more expensive car than his with her Bugatti Veyron EB, Westin and I stole. And, fuck, did she ever look amazing in that thing, but she’d look even better with me inside her, riding her in the backseat of it.

  * * *

  Once it’s dark, I park her car in her driveway and chuckle as I imagine her facial expression when she finds it in the morning—safe and silver.

  I slip out of the car and try to get into her house my usual way, but it’s not working.

  I call up Jason.

  “She’s made a new chip,” he answers.

  “Fuck, how did she have time for that?”

  “Who the hell knows? She’s Ides—that’s what she does. Oh, and just so you know, this one is better—stronger. It overrides all of the old chip’s commands, so yours is useless.” He sniffs.

  “It’s not useless. I’ll find a way to work around this.” I end the call.

  I head to her backyard and find her bedroom window, then rap on it like some twisted, teenaged pervert, trying to sneak into his girlfriend’s room late at night.

  There’s no answer, of course, but I get a new call.

  Oh fucking hell . . .

  I answer it, and all at once I know it’s her as a feminine breath washes through the phone line.

  “Ahhhhh, uuuuhhhh . . . Uh-uhhhh . . . Ahhhhh,” she sighs and breathes hard.

  I throb—I breathe almost as hard as her while the obscene call escalates into gasping moans.

  “Oh God.” Her breaths are jagged and choppy.

  A few grunts and the sound of fabric being rustled makes my cock twitch and harden to granite.

  Swiiipap, swiipap, swiiipap.

  The unmistakable sound of a very wet pussy being assaulted by fingers or a dildo, tortures me.

  I pull myself up onto her window ledge, and though I can’t see all the way in her bedroom, I can see the mattress shaking.

  Click. Bzzzz . . .

  Shit. She’s got a vibrator out now?

  “Oooohhhh, I’m coming, Jaaaaason,” she cries out.

  Then . . . Dirty girl falls apart, she goes all breathy and high pitched, and like a fucking kid, I almost come in my pants.

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  I hear a distinct smack on her wall inside her bedroom, and then she sighs like it’s the best sex she’s ever had.

  “I’ll find a way in,” I call out.

  She laughs.

  And that’s when I climb up her damn wall, and circle her chimney.

  Fucking cunt’s begging for my dick.

  I’ll have it. And if she says that stupid name, Jason, again, I’ll gag her and then kick my roommate’s ass, all because she’s using his name to get to me.

  Yeah, I’ll gag her until she remembers whose name should be falling off those cock-sucking lips.

  Vapor—thicker than the air she breathes, and deeper inside her body than anyone’s ever been.

  Chapter 9

  Ides

  He’s on my roof.

  I yawn, then call up Riot.

  “What’s he doing now?” he answers the call, sounding half-dead.

  “He’s trying to break in, unsuccessfully.” My gut tightens at the thought of letting Nick in and what he might do to me when he’s this worked up into a frenzy. What sinfully delicious things he might do and document by filming. That man is kinky as hell.

  My pussy swears that’s the case as well, as I change my underwear again.

  Just having him prowling around out there is doing some fucked up things to me.

  My breasts are painful, and my nipples are so tight and rubbing on my bra—it’s maddening. Is there no relief?

  “This isn’t a game,” he tells me.

  “I know, but it is to him.”

  He sighs. “He broke into my home today.”

  “Why didn’t you call the cops?” I ask, getting up and bringing my sex toys to the bathroom.

  I drop them in a bowl of cleaning fluids, and then wash my hands while I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder.

  “What—like you did? You didn’t even tell that judge today he was the jackass who stole your car,” he reminds me.

  “Why would that’ve mattered? The car, while I’m pissed he took it, doesn’t matter. It’s a distraction. It’s not what he’s after.”

  “I know that, but why would he even admit to all that today?” His tone is sharper than it has ever been.

  “To rub it in our faces,” I reply, listening for sounds of Nick on my roof.

  I walk back into my room and slip into some comfortable clothes.

  Black. Safe. Predictable, and what I need with him pawing and scratching around out there like a wild animal. My very own predator, trying to find a way in.

  Good Lord, he’s tenacious, and my will’s slipping . . . Almost gone.

  The exact reason I called Riot—to unknowingly talk me out of allowing Vapor inside my bedroom, and handing him my handcuffs with a smile and a new insult.

  He’s lucky I know it’s him, or my chip would’ve already sent the police here.

  Police that I can trust—not the crooked ones that have helped my father.

  When I’m dressed, I head into my office.

  “Well, what did he take from your house?” I ask.

  “Nothing as far as I can tell. I’m not entirely sure what he’s after.” I hear a scratching sound, but this time it’s from Riot, and I roll my eyes.

  “I’ll let you go,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not stupid. I know what you’re doing, and I’ve already had to deal with that today from another man,” I complain.

  “Oh, God, are you serious? He jacked off on the phone while he was talking to you?”

  “Se
e—now this is so wrong. You’re my lawyer and my friend—why are you whacking it while I’m talking to you?”

  “I-I’m not,” he stammers.

  “You are. Goodbye. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, and next time you leave all my supplies to make my hand sanitizer, can you leave it in the garage instead of on the kitchen counter?” I request, swapping the phone to my other ear for a moment as I peer out my window and watch the rope slip up the side of my roof. I chuckle.

  Nick’s ludicrous at times. This isn’t Mount Everest. It’s a basic roof.

  “I didn’t bring your supplies inside. I couldn’t get in. You switched the codes to the locks. I still have them sitting in my car. I meant to give them to you today after the hearing, but you left so quick because you were so upset that I couldn’t,” he responds.

  Shit. Nick left me the stuff I needed?

  Why would he do that?

  He hates my neuroses.

  Did he piss in the ingredients or something?

  I squint and watch the last of the dangling rope disappear.

  “Oh, great,” I mutter. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about my supplies. Just hold on to them in case I need them in the future. But before I go . . . Why didn’t you tell me he was the plaintiff’s attorney before I got to court?”

  He exhales. “I didn’t know it was him. Jesus, Ides. The paperwork said Stromman, Leibers and Johnston—Attorneys at Law. How was I supposed to know he’d be the one representing that asshole?”

  “Who was the man sitting next to him?”

  “His name’s Stephen Reid,” he answers.

  I gasp. That dickhead! That was his father? And he changed his last name, too?

  What the hell? Is the entire family on some kind of experimental medication gone wrong?

  They need their own reality show.

  “What? What’s wrong, Dena? Why’d you make that sound? Did he break in through a window? Is Vapor in your house right now?”

  I rub my eyes with the heel of my left hand. “No, and he won’t get in, but I gotta go. Thanks for everything. You’re an amazing friend, and a terrific lawyer.”

  “In case you forgot—we lost today,” he says, his tone flat and lifeless.

  “It doesn’t matter. You got me through it, and I thought I was gonna lose it when the judge started orally fixating on his pen. Yick!”

  He chuckles.

  “All right, talk to you tomorrow,” I say, and end the call.

  There’s a banging sound on the roof, and I ignore it.

  I step into my office, plunk myself down in my chair, and once I start looking at the security tapes from Riot’s house today, my fingers and toes tingle, then go numb.

  “Son of a bitch!” I yell, jumping out of my chair. “You fucking loser!”

  I unlock, then run out my back door and shout, “Get your ass down here, now!”

  Nick saunters out from behind the corner of the house.

  I slap his face the second he’s near me.

  “Feel better?” he asks, rubbing the spot.

  I do it again. “Now I do.”

  His eyes go wide and he smiles, but barely—and the fucker’s looking kind of high off it.

  “Wh-who’s on my roof?” I ask, breathless.

  “Not me,” he says with an amused shrug, his right brow curved upward like his lopsided grin.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me?” My fingers flex.

  “Well, I’d like to be fucking you—but you already know that,” he says, his steps smooth and his smile growing ever wider.

  He walks inside my house, and I race after him.

  “You took it!” I punch him in the back repeatedly.

  He spins around and hugs me. “I had to. I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay!”

  His arms tighten around me. “You left it in an unsafe place. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “It’s mine, and I want it back!”

  “You’ll have to take it, then, because it’s mine now, and I have no intention of returning it to that idiot, Riot.” He grimaces.

  My jaw snaps shut. “What the fuck is your problem? Why do you keep harassing me? Is it really that hard to find germophobe computer hackers that are inventors? There’s gotta be millions of us around.” I push off his chest and make my way out of his arms.

  “I haven’t even begun to harass you, lady.”

  There’s a loud thunk outside, and I turn around and scream when the man that stole my car with him eons ago, steps inside.

  “You got this?” Westin asks.

  Nick nods.

  “Good. Catch ya later, Ides,” Westin says, winking and leaving me standing there, gaping.

  He shuts the door, and I say, “Lock down.”

  All the doors bolt shut.

  Nick laughs. “Locking me in? My, Ms. Black, that can only mean one thing—you want me here, you dirty girl. You want a good, hard fucking, since your toys didn’t satisfy you.”

  “They did their job just great,” I say, backing away from him.

  I’m glad I’m clothed, but he looks at me, licking his lips, like he can see straight through the fabric on my body.

  “Now, about that blow job you told me today you’d be giving me,” he says.

  I blink and swallow. “Is there an award being handed out for asshole-thief-of-the-year? Because you’re on the list of candidates.”

  He smirks, swallows down a rough, biting laugh and replies, “And you’re on the list for hottest bitches, giving lawyers an unending boner. Fuck, you were torturing me today, looking that fucking edible and innocent. You’re lucky all I did was call up your ass and jack off in the bathroom. I’m not made of stone—especially not when it comes to you.” He stretches his neck like he’s been strung out all day.

  Before I can position myself strategically and get the hell away from him, he lunges forward, and I’m caged up against the breakfast bar.

  “What do you want? You already stole it,” I say, barely blinking and breathing shallow.

  His eyes go really dark and get heavy. “I haven’t uncovered its secrets yet, and I haven’t uncovered yours either.” He leans in, drags his nose up my jugular and inhales, making the filthiest sound imaginable.

  My legs jerk as my pussy tingles.

  “Do it again,” he says.

  “Do what? I didn’t do anything but try to slap and hit you, but it didn’t do a damned thing to you.” I lean away from him, but it only makes my legs open wide, making me look like a wanton hussy.

  And I’m sitting on a clean counter, but I know there are unseen germs here. Where’s my black light?

  I should disinfect this immediately and ohhhhh gaaaaawd!

  He bites my right breast, and then sucks hard through my shirt. My nipple tightens and so do my thighs—around his waist.

  “Make those sounds you made on the phone. You were really fucking loud, like an animal. How could you do that when I’m not touching you?” He nips his way up my chest until he’s at my jaw, then he grips it with one hand, and in a flash, he’s kissing me hard, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

  I wobble for a second, almost falling off the side of the counter, but his other hand braces me and then pushes me flat, so my back’s on the Formica countertop.

  “I’m not eating breakfast here ever again,” I tell him.

  “That’s right—because I’ll be the one eating you out here.” He chuckles darkly.

  I want to scream, “Dirty, filthy germs!” when he pulls my pants down and his tongue drifts up my thigh, but I know my issues with germs won’t stop him.

  It didn’t last time. In fact, it kind of incited him into a manic frenzy, and it was the hottest thing ever—the way he responded to me and my quirks.

  And I really want him to continue.

  “You’re gonna shave this shit off for me.” His hands move through my pubic hairs.

  “Fuck no!” I shriek with my back jettisoning off the countertop. “It keeps harmful bacter
ia out of my vagina.”

  “And getting rid of this mess . . .” he looks down at my pubes “. . . has been proven to lower the incidence of crabs.”

  “You have crabs?” I squeak and try to scramble away, but he grabs me and pins me in place.

  “No, I don’t have fucking crabs, I’m just saying . . .”

  I grimace and shudder. Crabs. He has them. And now I probably do, too.

  “Look, goddammit, I just don’t want shitty hairs getting in my way. I plan to eat you out—often. And I want this gone.” He eyes me like he’s serious about this.

  “Shitty hairs?” My face drops. “I shower daily—twice daily, in fact. More when you’re around, in case you saw Paco earlier in the day or our Fat Fingers friend.” My voice cracks. He thinks I’m disgusting and dirty. No wonder he calls me a dirty bitch sometimes. I sniff back tears.

  “Yyyyyaaaah!” he groans and stretches his head back. “Fuck!”

  I flinch. Is he going to hit me?

  Dad made a sound like that before he went psycho on me, and I’ve already slapped and hit Nick just a few moments ago. I started it and didn’t even think about the fact I didn’t actually know if he’d hit me back. I close my eyes, drop my head and brace myself for the onslaught.

  I’ve been hit before, lots of times. I can take a beating.

  “Christ, Dena, what’re you . . .” he trails off, and then soft fingers drift over my shoulders, then thread into my hair. “He really hurt you, didn’t he? God, I’d love to tear your father’s head off.”

  “Why?” I sniff. My eyes are moist, but I won’t cry. I can’t. Not when a man’s watching.

  “Because of what he did to you—what Riot said today at court. Your Dad shot at you?”

  “Yeah.” My spine stiffens at his touch. He pities me? That’s why he’s here? I turn my head away from him and stare at the wall, unseeing.

  “My Lord, you were a kid. Why didn’t you come to me for help?”

  “You were a kid, too. What could you have done? Drawn me a recreation with crayons? I didn’t really want to document it with free art—my fridge isn’t into hanging shit on it like that.” I frown and my eyes sting with tears, trying to escape. Why does this fluid hurt so much when it makes its presence known? Is there some sort of acid in there? Have I bleached too much in my lifetime, and it’s an accumulated toxin in my system, only releasing itself in the form of my tears? Will it destroy crabs on contact?