Slick as Ides

by Chanse Lowell

  I cringe as my eyes continue to hurt.

  He exhales with a loud, grating sound. “Plenty, my father has tons of connections, and he would’ve—”

  I turn to him, my eyes filled with anguish and my lips quivering. “He would’ve what? Killed my dad? You think I want that? I love him, even if he despises me. I’ve only ever wanted my dad to be happy, and to stop. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “Jesus, you think he didn’t know stealing your ideas and selling them off was wrong? Is he mentally imbalanced?” His jaw flexes.

  “No, I meant . . .” I look away again, unable to say the words.

  “Tell me, sweetheart,” he says with the softest, sweetest tones ever, but I can’t listen. “Oh, please tell me—let me in . . .”

  Nick can’t be trusted. I can’t share this. “There’s nothing to tell . . .”

  “All right, have it your way.” He nuzzles into the side of my hair, his lips planting kisses everywhere. His hands shake as they slowly caress me, and almost painstakingly prepare my body to burn for him.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” I whimper as he drags my shirt off. Not if this is a pity fuck. No way. I don’t do those. They’re more frightening than crabs.

  “Yes, you do, Ides. You want this as much as I do, otherwise you never would’ve called me back and touched yourself.” Christ, his voice is smoother than silk.

  “I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking—it just seemed like you deserved it,” I reply, the lie evident in my quivering voice.

  My body trembles as his fingers roam delicately across the cups of my bra, and his eyes follow his touch, making him that much more irresistible.

  “Why do you fight me? You need this.” He leans into me with every other word, his back arching. “You deserve unspeakable pleasure, and I want to give it to you without any reservation—no questions asked. I want to give you any fucking thing you desire—more than you can possibly understand. I want to be here for you. Be the person you rely on. Be your fantasy come true, like you are for me.” He grunts as he nips at my skin with his warm, moist lips.

  It’s like his words are fucking me.

  God, how does he do this to me? Make me moan like I’m dying for it—for him.

  “I . . . I hit you—just now,” I remind him.

  “I know. You can do that when you need to. It’s okay. Hit me again right now if it’ll make you feel better. Anything for you, love.” His hands keep slipping over me like satin. “Get it all out. Use my body to burn away your frustrations. I want you to.”

  “I don’t like you, but that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have—God, I’m sorry—I shouldn’t’ve done that. I’m really sorry,” I say, barely above a whisper, and my eyes trace down his torso and land on his straining erection.

  “No, you don’t like me sometimes. I get it. I’m a pain in the ass, and I know this, so I forgive you. It’s all okay. But you crave this”—his hips tilt into me, and his tip hits my clit—“crave me. I can give you what you want, and I know you feel this. What we have, there’s no way to turn away from it. Not when it’s so hot and needy in our blood.”

  I shift my hips into him without even considering what a hypocrite I am. I just need to feel . . .

  “What do you want, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he says, sliding his nose up my neck and parting his lips over my jaw. His breath on my skin makes my vision blur and my heart pound. “I’ll give it to you—I swear I will.”

  “I want . . .”

  “Yesss . . . Tell me.”

  “I wanna feel safe, with m-men,” I stutter.

  “You’re safe with me, Dena—always.” He rests his forehead on my cheek for a moment, then his hands place themselves on my ribs, almost cupping right under my breasts. His grip is light, but keeps me in place. “Protecting you is everything to me. I swear you’re safe here now in my arms.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. Tell me how you feel right now.” His breathing picks up a little.

  “When you’re holding me, yes, I feel safe.” I nod a little. Safer than I’ve ever felt in my life, but it’s pointless.

  He lifts his head and looks in my eyes. “You like me—admit it.”

  “I . . .” I love you . . .

  “Say it. Tell me how you feel.” His hazel eyes shimmer at me, and there’s a look of hope there that shatters me inside.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” I admit, and my face heats.

  “And it’s more than sex,” he breathes.

  “I don’t know—I don’t know what this is,” I answer, my chest almost collapsing inside me. My shoulders roll forward, and I sag like a ragdoll.

  He lifts me off the counter, sets me down and holds me in his arms, gently against his chest, rocking me a little with hip sways.

  “What did he do to you, baby? Please tell me. You’re breaking my heart.” He uses the most unsettling, tender tone that it makes me collapse into him and break into sobs.

  “I gave him all of it,” I whimper.

  He strokes my hair down my back.

  “Gave him all of what?”

  “My money. What he stole. I gave it all back. That’s how I met Chad. I needed a lawyer to set up a fund for my dad so when he gets out of p-prison, he can have what he wanted so desperately.” My eyes burn as the tears are shed in gushing rivers.

  Nick pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Riot set that up for you?”

  I nod, bite my lip and snot rolls down to my mouth.

  He uses the hem of his shirt to wipe it off my face, and my insides melt at the sight of him caring for me. Of him ignoring how many germs he’s now wearing on his clothes—all of them mine. And he’s not rushing to the wash to clean them off. He’s still holding me, caressing, like the rest of the world doesn’t resist. As if there’s only me and nothing else.

  My heart can’t take it. The way it swells and enlarges to the point of pain, has me breathless.

  Does he know what he does to me when he leaves me supplies so I can make my damned hand sanitizer? When he wipes my runny nose so I’m not freaking out over the germs gushing down my face? When he holds me after he ravages me and says such touching, sweet things to me?

  I can’t take it—any of it. My body’s not built to withstand this type of onslaught from a sexual being like him.

  I stutter on a gasping breath as he leans in and whispers, “You can’t trust Riot.”

  “I can too.”

  “No, Dena, you can’t. He’s crooked.” His nostrils flare.

  “How would you know?”

  “A criminal can always smell another one.”

  I rip myself out of his arms and back away a few steps. “Is that what you call a straight lawyer like him—a criminal?” My voice goes up.

  “Fuck, he’s slept with you, hasn’t he?” His jaw clenches and his fists ball up tight. “That motherfucking dickhead.”

  “No.” My eyes narrow. “I’m not interested in him that way. Never have been. I already told you all this.”

  “But you touched him today, and I practically have to fucking—” He cuts himself off and stretches his neck to the side, looking away from me.

  “I think you should leave.” He disarms me too much. I can barely think around him.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His head jerks back toward me, his pupils dilate and there’s this dangerous, predatory look in his eyes. “You want me, and I can’t live through the night without having you.”

  “If this is just about fucking me, then—”

  “Shut up,” he says, prowling after me.

  “I’m not your fuckhole you can dick around with anytime you want.” My shoulders push back.

  “Then what are you to me? What do you think you mean to me?”

  I blink and give him a blank stare. “I don’t know. You lie to me all the time.”

  “I’ve never lied to you,” he replies.

  “Psssht!” I throw my hands up and they land on his c
hest—he’s in front of me that quickly. “This is all some twisted game to you. You’re a liar and a thief.”

  “Okay, even if you don’t believe I’ve never lied to you before—”

  “My car,” I throw it in his face. “I should’ve shot you when I had the chance.” I cringe. I should be slapping the shit out of him again right now, but I can’t. I don’t want to be like my father. I won’t. I already feel like absolute shit for pounding on Nick’s back like that and slapping his face twice.

  He gives that knowing smile. He’s all too aware I’m not violent, and that was completely unlike me to go after my car and him like that with my gun. It was clearly a moment of insanity. And just now—I was out of control—yes, with my girlie slaps and toddler fist poundings. But I wasn’t really hitting him hard. It was sheer frustration coming out of me. Nothing more.

  I could never truly hurt Nick. I’d never be able to live with myself if I did that.

  “Okay, after the car—yes, that’s a given—I haven’t lied to you. I’ve omitted or left facts out you don’t need to know, but other than that.” He shrugs.

  My hands slip down his chest and drift to his abs.

  “Please, let me be with you tonight. I’ve missed you like crazy, my beautiful girl,” he says, his eyes going dark again, but filled with so much longing and honesty, I drop my arms.

  Without using my words, I slip my bra off and remove my panties—he’s already got them wet anyway, so they were due for a change. “Don’t tell me you love me,” I warn, my eyes turned to slits. I can’t listen to false words like that, meant to lull me into a sated, safe place that truly doesn’t exist. I’ve lived too much of my life in places like that. Never again.

  “If it’s the truth, why shouldn’t I say it?” He peers into my eyes with an empathetic look in place.

  “You want me to feel safe?”

  He nods, and my damn stomach somersaults. Maybe he really does love me.

  “Then don’t fucking say that shit to me,” I say through my teeth.

  “No promises, sweetheart, unless you’re going to swear you won’t ever touch that nasty fleabag, Riot, again.” He inhales next to my ear, and I fight off shivers.

  “I was wearing gloves—that’s the only reason it happened,” I explain.

  “Why did you need to touch him at all?” He goes rigid. “Why can’t I kill him over it?”

  “You can’t because he’s my friend, and I did it because I was ready to bolt out the door. The judge was gnawing on a pen, you wore my favorite colors to taunt me, and I was horny as fuck for you in that suit and with your damned commanding presence, taking over the room—there. Happy now?” My mouth jerks into a tight line.

  “So you touched some other prick?”

  “It was his hand, Nick! My God, you’d think I fucked him on the table right in front of—”

  His lips slam down on mine, he picks me up, and I automatically lock my legs around his waist.

  He carries me into my bedroom, slips off his shoes and socks along the way, then he tosses me onto the bed.

  His clothes are stripped off in a matter of seconds, and then he’s got his tongue on my clit, lapping at it.

  “Shit, you’re so wet from before, and you taste so damn good,” he moans.

  Heat rushes up my thighs.

  “God, you’re such a bastard—making me want you.” I close my eyes and fist the bedspread beneath me.

  “Don’t resist. Stop fighting this. We can be together,” he says between sucks and nips at my vulva. “We can do this.”

  “Stop stealing shit, then,” I say.

  “Stop inventing stuff I have to steal.”

  “I want my car back, asshole.” I throw my head back and release a tiny groan. He feels amazing already, his hands and his mouth. I want this more than he does—though, he puts on a better show. He might be playing me. In fact, he has to be. Why else would he be interested in me? I’m no prize.

  “Okay.”

  “Fuck you.” I bite my cheeks, then a hiss escapes out of me as his soft tongue presses inside me and his nose digs into my clit.

  “Finally—permission,” he groans and heaves his body up, then thrusts inside me, taking my breath away. “God—feels like forever since I’ve been inside you.”

  “You fucked me last night. Alzheimer's might be something you want to look into.” I grip his shoulders as he lunges forward, pushing himself as deep as he can go. “’Cause I sure as fuck can’t forget the shit you were doing to me last night.”

  “Promise? I want you sore as you hobble out of bed tomorrow. I want you to remember me with each tiny step as you shuffle along with a walker.” He grins. “Alzheimer's for me, but a cane for you, grandma. It’s only fair.”

  I giggle. “A cane can be used as a weapon against you.”

  “Don’t I fucking know it. I hope you fail to figure out it can also be used to do all sorts of kinky shit in bed.” His brows dance.

  “Christ, you feel incredible,” I blurt when he hits a particularly juicy spot inside me.

  “Too fucking long. I can’t take it. I want you all the damn time.” He dips down and kisses me, and it’s gentle, but urgent. “Can’t stop obsessing about you.”

  When he breaks away, my head lolls from side to side.

  His words . . . Shit. I feel the same way, but I . . .

  “Feel good? What do you need?” he asks, his voice soft. “I want you dying to have me, to have more. But, fuck, you feel so amazing, wrapped around me like this. I may come soon. So, tell me what you need.”

  He holds his breath for a second, and then there’s this dying moan emanating out of him, and my pussy clenches hard around him.

  “God, yessss,” he says.

  “Stop it,” I whimper, choking on my plea.

  “Stop what? You don’t want this?”

  He tries to withdraw, and my hand flies down between us, gripping his cock, and guiding it back inside. “No, please, God, don’t stop!”

  “What do you want, then?”

  “Just take me—like you always do. Take me like you can’t control yourself,” I say in a rush, and I can’t believe I’ve just told him that.

  “Like this?” He grips my hair, bites into my neck, and then shoves himself so forcefully inside me it makes me slide up the bed a few inches.

  “Oh fuck!” My back arches, and I clamp my fingers into his ass.

  “God, you love this rough.” He throws my hands off him, grips my ankles and shoves them up on his shoulders.

  He places a pillow behind me, and then backs me up to the headboard.

  “Now, I’m gonna fucking love you, because that’s what I do. I can’t stop myself. And you don’t get to tell me I can’t say it. That shit’s just wrong, Dena, and you know it.”

  I shake my head to tell him to stop—no talk of love, but he’s back inside me, and he’s deep, and long and hard, and I can’t think or breathe, and oh God . . .

  He grips the iron headboard, and drives into me, his dick commanding my body.

  “I love you, and I’ll say it because it’s true, and I hate what your dad did to you, and I hate him for treating you that way. But I love you more than anything. I adore every fucking thing about you, including the way germs piss you off.”

  Tears roll down my cheeks once more. Why do I always have to be crying around him? I don’t want to show him how weak he makes me. And this stinging sensation in my tear ducts sucks monkey scrotum.

  “Stop,” I say, my voice hoarse with emotion.

  I grip into his neck, to push him away.

  He slows down, and his pounding thrusts melt into what can only be described as pure love making.

  His kisses turn into whispery, powdery, affectionate touches. His eyes soften and tear up. “You mean everything to me. I won’t stop because I want you to feel how much I love you—how much I worship you. I’ll do anything for you. Anything at all, my beautiful, brilliant woman. I want you to be happy all the time, and I’ll des
troy anything that gets in the way of you smiling at me.”

  My chest constricts and tears spill freely. Goddammit, the burn in my eyes is unbearable. Seriously, it’s almost as hideous as the faces I’m sure I’m making as I continually sob. “You can’t say that.”

  “But I have to because I can’t contain it. You’re so gorgeous and amazing, and I love everything about you. I want you to be mine, and no one else’s. I honestly can’t share you. It kills me to do it.”

  “You’re a thief,” I say, my hands shaking as they try to shut him up. I try to cover his mouth, but he nips at my fingers, sucks and kisses at them, and it’s so damn erotic, I shake with want.

  “Is that why you can’t love me? Or does it even really matter what I do?” His eyes well up even more.

  I shut my eyes, and try to drown out his words with thoughts of my dad screaming at me, aiming his gun at my stupid face.

  “You’re mine, sweetheart, and I’ll take care of you. Let me in . . .” His lips whisper things at my ears, about how he wants a life with me, if I’ll only say it—tell him I love him, too. “Share your pain, your heartache with me. I’ll take it all away. I’ll make you forget about it all.”

  His fingers slide down my breasts, and he’s at my clit, circling with a soft tenderness I can barely comprehend.

  “I w-want to love you.” I inhale, in jagged, spurts, unable to take him in deep enough. “But I can’t.” My heart clenches tight at my hideous words. You’ll destroy me, Nick, if I let you in . . .

  “You will . . .” he breathes at my neck, his lips softly devouring my skin as his hands skillfully, and gently, lavish affection on me “. . . you will . . .”

  I fall apart in his arms, coming and gushing all over him, while mindlessly cooing something about how he makes me feel alive inside. And even if I can’t say the words, tell him what he wants to hear, my body says it for me . . .

  I’m yours. I love you. I want this so much that pain and fear almost cripples me at the thought of this not being real or ending, but I’ll try. For you—I’ll try as hard as I can to make you endlessly happy, too.