Slick as Ides

by Chanse Lowell

  “How the hell did you get ahold of him?” She scrubs her eyes with the backs of her hands and then her arms flop at her side.

  “Actually, it wasn’t too hard. I went to his house yesterday, and he left me an encoded message in my old bedroom with a phone number, so I called it.” I smile. “I’m not leaving L.A. again. We’re staying here. No more of this pansy-ass running away. I asked him if we could move into his place, and he said yes. It’s secure. I put in for a few upgrades, and they’re all happening today.”

  “God, Nick. How are we supposed to stay hidden there? Rich will expect this.” She huffs with an exhausted, disgusted sound, then throws her legs over the edge of the bed. She gets up and moves to the bathroom.

  “Think about it at least. I want you to be able to create, be an artist like you crave. Westin will help guard us whenever we go out, and we already know we can trust him, besides . . .”

  She stops and turns back to look at me. At this angle, her tits look amazing, so I stroke my bare cock as I stare at her.

  “Besides . . . ?” She arches a brow at me.

  “Dad’s tracked down Jason. We think he’s played us all. He has to be working for Rich.”

  She grips the door. Does she need support? “Why would he blow up Hillcourt Corporation and our home if he worked for Rich?”

  “Because he’s trying to confuse the authorities and us. If he was with us, he wouldn’t have blown either of those up. He’s Rich’s inside man. How else was Hillcourt tracking us both so well? You’re not the only one that has had Hillcourt steal your inventions over the last year. They took a few of mine as well.”

  She drops her head. “Such as?”

  “What? You don’t know which of their inventions were actually mine?” I toss a hand over my heart but keep stroking with the other hand. “I’m hurt by that, Ides. You don’t know my handiwork when you see it?”

  “I’m not playing this game with you right now—too tired to do the ‘guess which pervy invention is Vapor’s.’” She steps the rest of the way into the bathroom, shuts the door and does her business.

  I lay back, stare at the ceiling and stroke it harder.

  When she rejoins me a few minutes later, she’s rubbing sanitizer into her hands.

  “Soap wasn’t enough for you?” I press my lips together and watch her every move.

  “Not hotel soap—no. They use crappy ingredients, and it wreaks havoc on my nice skin. It dries me out, and I hate that.”

  She moves right in front of me and keeps working it into her skin.

  I take her hand and rub it in for her, pulling her down onto the bed in the process. “Oh, but your ingredients don’t dry your skin out?” I tease, smirking.

  “I used the soap, so don’t act like I didn’t. And you know I put stuff in my sanitizer so my skin stays silky smooth just the way you like it.” She leans over and slumps into my chest. “What are we gonna do? This doesn’t seem like the right answer—to stay at your dad’s place.” She’s in a ball in my lap but her head is tipped back, searching my face. “It’s just so creepy there. It’s the place he intimidated me, in his office. I can’t work in there.”

  “We’re gonna remodel, and for now, we’ll stay in my old room. Nothing creepy in there except some pervy ropes and cuffs.”

  She snorts a laugh. “That’s very comforting since it sounds all too familiar.”

  “If I call you bitch again will you try it out for a week? Give me that much.” I kiss the top of her head.

  “No, I’ll do it because you think it’s the right thing to do, and I trust you. I think we need to move Riot and Stormy in there as well, though.”

  “Fuck, woman, how many rooms do you think this place has? I already told Dad I’d take care of Libby and she could live in the guest house. He’s scared to death she’s not being protected enough from Rich.”

  Her head pops up, and her eyes flood with unadulterated fear. “What the fuck? You weren’t going to share that with me?” She smacks her palm on my chest. “How are we ever going to be safe now with the one piece of meat Rich wants, hanging out in front of our fortress, dangling there like an enticement he can’t possibly resist? Are we begging him to aim a bullet between our eyes?”

  I pull her up so she’s straddling me, and then I lower her down, close to my length. “Ride me, and I’ll tell you how this is going to go . . .”

  “Why won’t you talk to me about anything important unless you’re inside me?” she argues, but slips onto my length anyway.

  “Foooohhhh,” I exhale with a grunt. “That’s it, sweetheart. God, you feel so slick and tight. I’m glad you stopped making me wear those shitty condoms. Makes my job easier when I get back inside that pussy when you’ve been sleeping.” I bite back the word “bitch,” and growl instead. God, it’s dying to come out, but I won’t. I can’t do that to her.

  “Only because you’re still an asshole and won’t let me clean up afterward. I suppose I should kiss your ass for allowing me to wear my dental floss, rainbow colored panties?” She flutters her eyelashes at me on purpose and then pinches my nipples. “I liked the condoms. It contains the mess better. It’s not like you gave it a real chance anyway. You only did it for a week.”

  “A week of hell . . .”

  She pinches my nipples harder this time.

  “God, girl, I bruise like a peach—careful with my chest,” I joke, then pull her down to me, removing her hands off my chest.

  “I really do bruise like a peach. Stop making fun of me.” She smiles with a devious look, bites my lower lip and sucks it into her mouth with a loud groan.

  I quicken my thrusts and grip her ass, holding her down so I can control the speed and depth.

  “Fuck, I love how tight you get when I hold you down like this. Do it, girl. Squirt.”

  “No way.” She shakes her head.

  I smack her ass. “Do it! I need it. Soak me.”

  “No.”

  I smack her ass twice more. “Why not?”

  “I told you why last night. I don’t want to do that in a hotel. I can’t stand the thought of some poor maid having to clean up what might be piss. You know they don’t have time to shampoo mattresses. It’s repulsive to think of someone else lying on this bed tonight.” She grimaces.

  “Oh, those poor unsuspecting douchebags, lying in your come. Poor them. Boo fucking hoo.” I pretend to cry.

  She laughs, sits up and rides me as hard as she can, considering I’m still holding her ass cheeks pretty tight.

  “Squirt hard, and we can renegotiate Dad’s place.” I grin so wide it makes my tongue move and forces a swallow.

  “If I squirt, I’m putting down two towels under us first,” she offers.

  “Not happening, Dena.” I release my right hand and stroke her very naked pussy.

  “It’s tender, careful,” she says.

  “Shit, thank God you let me finally shave you down there. Next week we’ll wax it instead.” I stare at her bald pussy as best I can in the diminished lighting.

  “Fuck no!” She tries to jump off me. “Ewwww! Someone else touching me down there? Hell. Fucking. No!”

  “That’s it, honey, curse. You know it makes me harder.” I grip her by the arms, roll her under me and push my way back inside. “I’ll wax you myself. I’ll tie you down.”

  “You forgot the bitch part.” She blinks and stares at me like there’s some answer hidden there.

  “Jesus,” I sigh, “will you stop with that? I’m fucking you senseless here.”

  “You’re the one that’s senseless. Why won’t you call me that anymore?”

  “Aaaaagh!” I groan, pump harder and grind my teeth.

  She grips my ass and squeezes hard. “Tell me? Please? It kills me you’re keeping this from me.” Her voice is shaky and thick with emotion. “I feel like you’re pushing me away.”

  I pull out and roll off her, sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping my head. “Good Lord, woman, why are you nagging about this? Pushi
ng you away? Are you serious?” I gaze at her over my shoulder. “I’ve been in your cunt three times in the last twenty-four hours. How is that pushing you away?”

  She scoots over to me, presses her chest into my back, holds me with one arm and reaches around, then strokes me with her other hand. “You know what I mean. Something’s eating you up, and it isn’t me.”

  “I’d like it to be. If you’d use your mouth on me instead, though, you wouldn’t be saying this shit to me.” I watch her hand move over me. She’s got a good rhythm going. I jut my hips up and flex into her hand each time she hits the tip. “Shiiiiit, woman, feels so good.” I drop my head back onto her shoulder.

  “Call me paranoid, but I think you stopped saying it because of Libby,” she says in my ear, then kisses it.

  “So what if it is?” The words linger in the air, thick and heavy like my panting breaths.

  “Why does she change anything between us?” She strokes my chest with her hand, and it’s erotic and sweet and everything I want.

  “Almost there . . . Keep going,” I say with a thick rasp, then reach back and grope her thighs.

  “I love I can do this for you, make you feel good, but it’s not enough. I want all of you, Nick. I came to you and let you inside. I don’t have any secrets from you anymore. I want the same from you. Can you give me everything, sweetheart?” She shoves her tongue in my ear, and her hands are all over me, pumping me quick and dirty.

  Within seconds I’m spurting on my abs, on her hand and landing a million kisses all over her a second later when I pin her back down on the bed.

  “I love you,” I say. “So much.” My favorite sexy bitch.

  “I know.”

  “The right response is, ‘I know, asshole.’” I smirk.

  “Why would I call you that?”

  “Because you love it, and because that’s who I am.”

  She blinks and her expression drops. “But I’m not your bitch anymore because I’m no longer a pain in your ass, worrying about germs, refusing to squirt when you want me to or have your kid? How has that changed? I know you want to call me that name. I see it in your eyes. You grit your teeth, growl and then hold it in. Sometimes you even bite me like you’re dying inside to break out of this prison you’ve put yourself in.”

  “Fine,” I huff. “It’s because I don’t ever want you to feel abused like Libby was. I’m exactly like my dad, and I realize that now, but I don’t want to be. I want you, I want us, and I want to be my own man, not that dick I grew up with. He never said he was doing all that shit because he was so psychotically in love he couldn’t stand it. He never said he was trying to find a way to save her and make her well again. All I knew was I’d been a disappointment from day one, never did shit his way and that he owned my ass.”

  She kisses me, and it’s kind and soft and full of pity.

  I break away. “Not like that, Dena. I don’t ever want you to do that to me again.” I turn my back on her.

  She strokes it with her petite hands, and they’re still moist from jerking me off. It’s probably killing her to know they aren’t clean, but she ignores it. For me.

  God, my heart pounds for her and beats her name into every inch of my body.

  “Not like what? Not like I care that you’re hurt and projecting?” She smothers the back of my top shoulder with velvet kisses. “You’ve never hurt me. Not once, and if you ever tried, you know I’d find a way to leave. Libby is not me. You are not Rich or Stephen. You are my favorite asshole. You turn me on, you invent the most amazing stuff I’ve ever seen, and I love you because you’re not afraid to come unleashed and call me names because you want to tear into me. It’s not offensive to me. I love it, and God”—she tosses herself around me so she’s looking at my face—“I miss it. I miss you.”

  “Why in the fuck would you miss being called a dirty bitch? You hate that shit.”

  “Because you love it,” she tosses my words back at me. “So I do, too. It’s us. It’s who we are together, and you know I don’t really hate it. I just like pretending it annoys me—makes it more fun. Gets you all amped up.”

  I lean over, kiss her forehead and sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I . . . God, it makes me crazy to know my dad was suffering like that, and I was making his life harder. I didn’t know. I didn’t . . .”

  “I know . . . And it’s not your fault you didn’t understand what he was doing.” She holds me, rocks me like a small child, and in the quiet of our hotel room, I sob in her arms.

  Chapter 25

  Two days later . . .

  “Uh, Libby. Hi, I’m Nick,” I say, extending my hand to shake. She ignores it and stares at me with a blank expression.

  “Hi,” she says, voice devoid of emotion.

  “I was told my dad worked this all out—that you’re to stay at his place with my fiancé and me.”

  She nods and stands still as a statue in the doorway of the hotel room she’s been staying in.

  “There will be guards constantly at the house, and Dena and I will be in and out all the time, so any time you need anything just ask anyone around, okay?”

  She blinks, but that’s it. Is she breathing?

  “Do you have some luggage I can take for you?” I ask.

  She steps aside and motions at her tiny bag. It looks more like a large woman’s purse. That’s it? That’s all she has?

  Her features are very pretty, so I can see why Dad’s infatuated with her, but even if she has nice auburn hair and big green eyes, she’s like talking to a tree. I know she’s alive, but she’s just there . . . Not giving off any emotion.

  I take her bag, she checks out of the hotel, and when we get to the car, Dena steps out. “Hi, Libby. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m—”

  “I know who you both are,” Libby finally responds. “You were wonderful children. I’m glad to see you found each other.”

  Again, no expression on her face. She could be reading the New York Times with the way she’s speaking so woodenly.

  The car ride isn’t much better. Dena and I sit in the front. Libby sits in the back with Westin, who we brought along as a body guard of sorts.

  Mostly he’s chatting with her—well, really at her—nonstop. It makes the ride a little more bearable to have him there, keeping the uncomfortable silence at bay.

  Dena gives me several sad looks in regard to Libby. The poor woman is so shattered inside I wonder if she’ll ever be the vibrant woman again I remember from so long ago.

  I remember her laugh that carried through the house, and how much Libby liked to cook. Damn, she made the best lasagna ever, and she even made me these yummy blueberry shakes from time to time.

  Westin helps her out of the car once we park, and we give her a tour of the house.

  Her eyes betray nothing.

  I show her the guest house in back where she’ll be staying. “Is any of this familiar at all?” I ask.

  “No. There have been some extensive remodels,” Libby answers. “But it’s fine. I like to keep to myself anyway.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to use the pool and Jacuzzi anytime, and feel free to enter the main house for anything, even if it’s just to hang out and raid the fridge,” I offer.

  Dena loops her arm in mine and gives Libby a kind smile. “We’d love to have you join us for breakfast and dinner if you’d like.”

  I smile. “Definitely. Dad has a huge table, and it’s kind of weird when it’s just Dena and I sitting there by ourselves. Join us.”

  Libby nods, and then she’s gone inside her new home.

  I stand there, blinking, and wondering if we’ll ever see her come out again.

  Not that I blame her. I expected her to be jumpy about little noises and being near two men she didn’t know, but she was more ghost-like than anything, as if she was barely there in front of us. Even her movements look numb.

  Poor woman.

  We’ll provide her safety, but I don’t know what else we can give her to bri
ng her back to life.

  * * *

  A month later . . .

  In the middle of the night, Dena wakes me up.

  “Did you hear that?” She grips my arm.

  “It’s just Libby.” I pull her into my chest with one arm. “Go back to sleep. You know she won’t want to be around us.”

  “Why does she keep coming into the main house then? She has her own place out back, and she hasn’t said a single word to either of us since we’ve brought her here. She keeps to herself. Having her inside the house at night creeps me out.” She yawns and strokes my bare chest.

  “She’s all by herself out there. She’s not used to it, and she might not ever be. She sleeps on the couch because she knows there are always people walking around in Dad’s place and bodyguards and shit. It’s not a big deal.” I caress her hair and her naked back. “Thank you for leaving the shirt off tonight, by the way.”

  “You didn’t give me a choice, asshole,” she reminds me with a chuckle. She snuggles into me and wraps a leg around mine.

  “What—you mean my getting in your face and tearing that fucker into cleaning rags scared you off from grabbing another piece of clothing to put on?”

  “I’m not letting you wax me even if you think your impressive skill at ripping up clothes might convince me otherwise. We’ve been discussing this for a few weeks now.” She strokes lower on my chest and walks her way down to my abs. “I let you shave me once, and that was enough for me.”

  “C’mon. We’ve been here for a month now. Everything’s safe, we can go back to being nasty with each other.”

  “We never stopped, hon. You’re a fucking lunatic, making me bend over on my work surface and getting inside me when I’m in the middle of working,” she says, chuckling some more.

  “Bitch, you love it. You beg for my come to drip down your leg while you’re working. Helps you to focus on germs—on more important shit like when you’re shot wears off, how you’ll let me knock you up.” I squeeze her with one arm.