Elah's Plaything

by Lydia Rowan

  “Charlotte, no more teasing,” he said on a frustrated sigh.

  “Sorry, but I was having so much fun.”

  The strain was apparent in her voice, and he was happy to know he wasn’t alone. He stroked her thighs and ran his fingers up her sides, releasing a moan when she settled over his cock and lowered herself an inch and then another. She let out a sharp sigh at the first penetration of her virgin back passage, and he felt her channel pulsing around him. They stayed there, suspended for a moment before she lowered herself another inch, his head engulfed in the heat of her ass. Her chest was heaving and a fine sheen of sweat covered her. Her nipples were distended and stood prominent, practically begging for his mouth. In deference to her position, he didn’t sit up, but he did grab her breasts and pinch the succulent buds.

  “Ohh.” She moaned and lowered herself a bit more.

  “It’s okay, baby. Just relax; you can take me,” he said.

  His words were strained, but he was determined to make this good for her, reward the trust she’d so freely given.

  “Ah, Elah,” she said as she finally lowered herself the rest of the way.

  He was buried deep in her ass, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from thrusting up and pounding into her. Instead, he grunted and reached down to her clit. He plucked and strummed and was rewarded with a gush of moisture and a low moan. He reached lower, touched the place where they were joined and stroked the skin stretched tight over his cock. He couldn’t help but pull out a bit, and Charlotte clenched her ass in response.

  “Elah, I, uh, need…”

  “Take what you need, baby,” he said as he filled his hands with the firm, rounded flesh of her hips, holding her tighter than he normally would but using the touch to ground himself.

  She put her hands on his chest and began to rock experimentally; she quickly found her rhythm and, eyes closed tight, moaned as she aimlessly stroked his chest. Elah found himself unable to look away from her face, drawn to the play of emotions there, the quirk of her brow, the way she tucked the corner of her lip into her mouth, her hair bouncing in time with the rhythm of her movements, the ends damp from her sweat.

  After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. Then she unleashed the most open, beautiful smile that he’d ever seen. His heart clenched, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He began stroking her clit in earnest, and she responded, and he could see the orgasm building in the tense pull of her muscles. When he gave her clit one final tug, she came in a wave. Her ass clenched again, drawing his own release, and his cum flooded out and filled her. Her breath came out in puffs and, careful to keep them joined, he rolled them over so that he was on top of her. He captured her lips in a deep kiss and gently pumped his hips, and she stroked his back. He grabbed a couple of tissues from the nightstand and placed them underneath him as he pulled out of her. He could feel his cum leaking out of her and heard her mumbled protest.

  “Shh, I’ll be right back.”

  He jogged to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, then returned to her. After he’d disposed of the tissues, he began cleaning her, stroking and caressing her soft skin as he went along. When he finished, he climbed back into bed, gathered her in his arms, and held her close.

  She smiled up at him and whispered a groggy, “Wow,” before falling asleep. Elah’s body was satiated, but his mind was restless, so he hugged her even closer, and she snuggled tight against him. Tonight he realized, knew deep in his soul and without a shred of doubt, that he loved her.

  And he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to let her go.

  ••••

  The next morning she awoke slowly, memories of last night coming to her instantly. The rush of sadness she’d felt when Elah had told her about his father, the confusion and disbelief that had joined her anger when he’d told her about her own father’s role. But in the light of this morning, those feelings were just pale impressions compared to the passion and closeness that they had shared last night. When she shifted, she felt evidence of their activities in the slight soreness of her lower body. She smiled at the feeling, moving again to recreate the sensation and laughed at it. Countless times, she’d envisioned Elah taking her in this most intimate way, and the reality had more than lived up to the fantasy. The pleasure had been immense, but even more, the tenderness in his eyes, the loving way he’d cared for her after… She’d never expected to feel something so real and so special with him, hadn’t welcomed it, but last night, she’d felt like she was where she belonged.

  He stirred softly but remained asleep, so she took advantage of the rare occasion that she was awake before him. Pushing down the desire to lie in bed and stare at him, his face peaceful, his body still, she arose and began preparing breakfast. By the time she placed the biscuits in the oven, he’d emerged and walked over to her and gave her a hug and long, deep kiss.

  “Good morning,” he said in a sleep-roughened voice.

  “Morning,” she said, suddenly shy. “Please have a seat. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

  She went to turn, but he held her in place with the arm around her waist, his gaze trailing over her face, probing, exploring. She couldn’t tell what he was searching for, but whatever he found there must have pleased him because he gave her another soft peck and let her go. The oven dinged, and she retrieved the biscuits and prepared them both plates. When she sat, he smiled at her, looking more open than she’d ever seen him, and she felt her heart soar.

  ••••

  They stayed inside and spent a lazy afternoon making love and chatting. They didn’t talk about anything important, but the fun, casual relaxation was incredible. After a quick dinner, they snuggled on the couch, and she curled up in his lap with his arms around her, her head on his shoulder, loving the feeling of his hard body beneath her, the gentle way he’d touch and kiss her.

  “Do you want to watch TV?” he asked.

  “Sure. Let’s see what’s on,” she said and grabbed the remote.

  “Oh! It’s Taken,” she said. “Have you seen it?”

  “No,” he said and dropped a quick kiss on her head.

  “Yes! I’m happy that we can rectify that. This movie has questionable gender politics, weird cultural dynamics, and plausibility gaps that you could drive a truck through, but it’s freakin’ awesome!” she said.

  He looked skeptical but pulled her closer, rubbing his hands across her breasts, stroking her belly, down her thighs, and then tracing the route again and again as they watched.

  “Amazing, right?” she said, flicking off the TV when the movie ended.

  He shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

  “Okay? That was a cinematic masterpiece. Maybe you were too distracted by the insatiable monster that’s poking me in the side,” she said with a wiggle of her hips.

  “Well, I am a man with a particular set of skills,” he said drily as he rocked toward her, pressing his erection against her thigh.

  Lottie sat up and leaned close to him, making a show of examining his face with a narrow-eyed gaze.

  “Elah… You made a joke! How do you feel? Did it hurt?”

  He curved his lips up in the beginnings of a smile, but she placed a staying finger to them.

  “No, don’t! You can’t make a joke and smile all in one day. That might be too taxing.”

  He laughed and then sucked the finger at his lips into his mouth and grabbed her ass, lifting her as he stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist and chuckled as he walked them to the bedroom. When they reached the bed, he laid her down and fell on top of her.

  “You’re right,” he said, his voice a deep growl. “I don’t want to tax myself, so I’ll tax you instead.”

  And then he covered his lips with hers as he slipped inside her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How was the trip?” Hart asked the following Monday.

  “It was fine,” Elah said, keeping his voice even, though Hart wasn’t fooled.<
br />
  “Seems I underestimated Ms. Trufant, er, Mrs. Avakian,” he quickly corrected when Elah glared at him.

  “I don’t have time for this, Hart, but I’m feeling charitable. What do you mean?” Elah asked indulgently.

  “I thought you’d chew the poor girl up and spit her out, but I backed the wrong pony. She’s done what I thought impossible: she made Elah Avakian fall in love.”

  Elah wouldn’t confirm the statement, but the lack of denial was enough for Hart. And enough for him.

  “So what does this do to your little scheme?”

  He hadn’t decided. The desire for vengeance burned as strong as ever, but it was tempered now by a new awareness. James Trufant had killed his father, and nothing could change that or make him forget. And he didn’t even regret the years he’d spent seeking to redress the wrong; the quest had given him purpose, was responsible for making him the man he was. But she’d given him a glimpse of the man he could be, one who lived for more than revenge, one who could accept the love she offered, could learn how to give love back in return. And all he had to do was show mercy, pass on the opportunity to, at least in some small way, get his father the justice he deserved and fulfill the vow he’d made. What had once seemed unthinkable was now as clear and true as the love filling his heart. Hurting Trufant would hurt Charlotte, and he knew now that he could never hurt Charlotte.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said in months. But if you want my advice—and you do; it’s what you pay me for, after all—just let it lie. Trufant will get his, one way or another. Don’t mess this up. You might not ever find it again.”

  His friend’s words were tinged with knowledge and regret, and Elah couldn’t help but think of Charlotte’s friend.

  “You have a story to share, Hart?”

  “Nope, just a friendly word of free advice. Oh, and I’d tell the missus to stay away from that chief of staff.”

  “What?”

  Elah was on alert at the mention of Gregory Williams. He trusted and liked that guy as much as he trusted and liked Trufant, which was to say not at all.

  “Charlotte doesn’t work with the councilman anymore.”

  “I know, but his lackey has been asking around about you, looking for dirt, and I heard he put a little bounty on it. And he’s been around the center.”

  “You know this? This isn’t some secondhand bullshit?”

  Hart raised his hands. “The bounty stuff is, but I saw him at the center myself.”

  Questions of why Hart had been to the center without him were pushed aside. Charlotte was in contact with Greg, meaning she was in contact with her father. The sinking feeling in his gut had him leaning back in his chair.

  “Elah, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t have mentioned it if it were nothing, Hart.”

  The man didn’t respond, and Elah stood and donned his jacket. He needed to see Charlotte. Now.

  “We’ll reschedule,” he said as he walked out of the office to his car.

  The drive home was a haze—he knew he was overreacting, knew that once he saw Charlotte, had her reassurance—he’d be better. He almost thanked the God he barely believed in that she was home when he arrived. The need, almost compulsion to see her couldn’t have stood it to be otherwise.

  “You’re home early,” she said brightly when he walked into the kitchen. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Rather than respond, he grabbed her in a tight embrace, kissed her with a ferocity that was almost scary. When he finally pulled back, the desire in her eyes was dampened with concern.

  “Elah, what is it?”

  He held her tight again, squeezing as hard as he dared. She squeezed right back.

  “Nothing. I just missed you,” he said and hugged her close again as he heaved a deep sigh.

  “Well, here I am,” she said as she rubbed her hands up and down his sides.

  He kissed the top of her head, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. The rightness, the relief that filled him as he held her in his arms, calmed his heartbeat, and slowly, as he soaked up the serenity that she brought, he returned to normal.

  “Do you want to sit in the garden?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said softly.

  “Okay. Let me go change. I’ll meet you out there?”

  He nodded.

  “And give me your jacket,” she said, extending her hand. “Otherwise, I know I’ll find it balled up in a corner somewhere.”

  Laughing, he complied and then grabbed her and planted a deep kiss on her lips before she left. He was glad he’d come home. Seeing Charlotte had reassured him as nothing else would have. Lightened, he headed to the backyard but then turned around and headed back toward the fridge. Charlotte usually liked to have a drink of some sort when they sat outside, so he decided to grab something and have it ready when she returned. His gaze snagged on the bulky, battered briefcase that she carried, noting the sheets of paper sticking out of the edge. For someone so particular about clothing, she kept a messy briefcase, he thought with a chuckle as he retrieved the drinks.

  Maybe he could just organize them for her. Before he could consider it further, he’d grabbed the bag and flipped up the top flap, revealing the papers inside. He picked up a sheet before he stopped, the thought that he was violating her privacy occurring to him. After a moment of consideration, he dismissed it. They hadn’t explicitly discussed the status of their relationship, but in his mind she was his wife, his real wife, and he knew she felt the same. So she wouldn’t want to keep secrets from him, wouldn’t mind if he tidied her papers. And if a side effect of that was him getting a little more insight into what she did every day, and maybe assuaging some of the issues Hart had raised, all the better.

  Decided, he pulled the papers out of the bag and began organizing them, not going out of his way to read, but not going out of his way not to either, and resolutely ignoring the tinge of guilt that had planted itself at the back of his mind. Nothing jumped out at him, and he felt the last bit of tension leave him. And then it came back in a tidal wave when he saw what, at first glance, appeared to be EAE financial statements. They were doctored, he could see that instantly, but to the uneducated eye, they would be convincing.

  Rage—and betrayal—crowded in at the edges of his mind, but rather than ripping the pages to shreds as he so much wanted to, he calmly smoothed the crinkled edges and placed them in a neat stack on the counter. Vision clouding, he clenched and unclenched his fists, walked from the refrigerator to the table and back again, the combustible mix of anger and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface threatening to break out.

  “Elah, do you still want to…?”

  Charlotte stopped short when she saw him but then rushed over to him, hands out, a look of concern on her face. He stepped back quickly. He couldn’t let her touch him, knew that if she did, he’d fold, that he’d have no choice but to accept whatever excuse she peddled, the desire, the need to be with her, to keep her close, overriding common sense.

  “Did you go to the center today?” he asked instead, forcing himself to keep his voice as even as he could, wishing with a fervor that he hadn’t had since he was a child that there was some reasonable explanation.

  “No, not today. Why?”

  “Hart mentioned that Gregory Williams had been there and I wanted to ask you about it.”

  Guilt clouded her eyes, and the relief that had flooded him when he’d first seen her ebbed completely away and along with it a bit of the rage, with something like fear taking its place.

  “He, um, comes by from time to time.”

  “Why, Charlotte? What could you have to talk about with him?”

  “Elah, we’ve been friends for years. It’s natural that we talk.”

  Her statement was sensible, but the wobble in her voice, the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes gave her away. She was trying, poorly, to hide something. But he wanted to be reasonable, giv
e her a chance.

  “As much as I don’t like it, as much as I wish to change it, I can accept that Trufant is your father, that he has an important role in your life. But his friends, his associates, no. You aren’t to have anything to do with those people. I don’t care how long you’ve been friends.”

  She looked up at him, eyes narrowing in anger.

  “You don’t get to dictate my friends.”

  “I do and I did. I’ll tell Greg personally—if need be—but don’t see him again, Charlotte.”

  “Okay,” she said and turned away, and Elah’s doom deepened. Charlotte wouldn’t just give in like that, not without a reason.

  He put her hands on his shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “Tell me.”

  She swallowed and gnawed at her lip.

  “It’s nothing… It’s just, he asked me to leave some papers in your office. I said no. Of course I said no, but…”

  Eyes imploring, she stared up at him.

  “Did this happen today?”

  She shook her head.

  “Yesterday?”

  “No.”

  “When.”

  “It was about a month ago, but, Elah, I…”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” he said, the temperature in his voice lowering with each word he spoke.

  “No, I…”

  “Because you were considering it.”

  He reached the conclusion as he uttered the words, and the realization was a sledgehammer to his heart. A part of him that he’d long thought dead, a part that Charlotte had revived, silently begged her to deny it, to tell him that it wasn’t true.

  But only silence met him.

  “Elah, I’m…”

  “You always wanted this to be over, and you got your wish. Get out, Charlotte. Now!” he bellowed when she went to argue. “And take these with you,” he said, throwing the papers in her direction.