by D. Morrissey
“Call me back to confirm,” he says, hanging up without saying good-bye. I hate it when people do that.
“They want to set Logan’s arraignment for two o’clock tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he grabs the remote and flicks on the television.
Cruel, heartless, son-of-a-bitch.
I can’t cry in front of him. What would he think if I started blubbering? He brings some crazy, lunatic of a woman home for a quickie and then he can’t get rid of her. Hell, I don’t blame him for wanting to get rid of me. I don’t even want to be around me right now. This is not me. I turn around wiping my eyes so he doesn’t see. Then I take a deep breath, stand up straight, and head for the stairs to the loft.
“Ellie?” he calls after me.
I don’t answer him. I’m afraid I’ll break down if I do. I look at my feet as I dash up the stairs to the bedroom where I bounce around for a minute looking for my things so I can gather them up and leave. Then I realize I don’t have any stuff here. I curse myself and go into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I try to lock it, but there isn’t a lock on the door. Who has a bathroom door without a lock? I growl, irritated. I turn on the faucet and lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I had a great night, enough fantasy sex to hold me over for another year, at least, and then a wonderful day today to boot. Until yesterday, I didn’t even know this man existed. I should just thank him for the kind hospitality and get the hell out of his hair. I nod at myself in the mirror, satisfied that I’ve talked sense into me. I lean down and splash cool water on my face.
“Ellie?” Cal raps lightly on the door, but doesn’t open it.
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
I roll my eyes at the door. What do you care? I reach over and open it slightly as I pat my face dry with a hand towel. “I’m fine. I just got something in my eye.”
He breathes a heavy sigh, clearly relieved. “Want me to take a look?”
I put the towel down on the counter and smile. “No, it’s fine now. Thank you.” I open the door wider and step around him into the bedroom.
“Okay,” I say as cheerfully as I can. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
He looks at me, confused for a moment, and then slowly cuts his eyes to the bed, smirking. I scoff in disbelief. If he thinks I’m going to give him one last screw for the road, he’s sadly mistaken.
“Uh…that’s not what I meant,” I say coolly.
He appears absolutely clueless. “What are you talking about? Ready for what?”
“To go.” Still no apparent cognitive connection. “To the motel.” Still looks totally lost. “On the phone. You said you were going to take me to a motel.”
He looks at me blankly for another second and then Zing!
“Oh! Tony! I just told him that because I didn’t want him to know that you were staying here with me. I really didn’t want anyone to know where you were staying.”
I eye him suspiciously. “So, then you’re not taking me to a motel for the night?” Oh, sweet man, ‘you have witchcraft in your lips’.
“No. At least, I hope not. Not unless you’re sick of me and you want to leave. But I should tell you”—he looks down at his feet as if he has really bad news to deliver—“we do have Everett in custody now, too.”
“Well, that’s great! Isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. And I am relieved to know that we have him, especially since you’re so hell bound and determined to go to work tomorrow.”
“Then what?”
“Well, technically, I really should take you home. But…”
“But what?” I wait with dread.
“But I don’t want to.” He looks at me, his conscience clearly guilty. “I think you should stay here with me, at least for tonight anyway, so I can keep an eye on you.” He steps toward me slowly, grabbing my hips and pulling me to him, looking into my eyes like the bad boy he is.
I giggle. “You do, huh? What makes you think you need to keep an eye on me?”
He kisses me softly and then gently pulls the hair tie from my hair. “Because, Ellie Rose Carter, you look like trouble to me. And I ‘am’ the law, you know. Plus, if memory serves me correctly, I believe I still owe you some exceptional roguery.”
Oh goody! I think about the handcuffs he threatened me with earlier and my eyes light up. “You know, I think you’re right. I believe I do remember something about that.” I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck, and I kiss him, pouring myself and everything I have into it as I fist my hands in hair. He does want me!
“Mm.” He moans into my mouth, his now familiar hands reaching down to pull up my shirt, which he tosses thoughtlessly on the dresser.
I unbutton my jeans and push them down, stepping out of them and kicking them aside as I make quick work of my socks. He does the same and it almost becomes a race to see who can strip the fastest.
“Careful what you ask for, little girl,” he threatens as he finally tugs his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor.
I smile. “Bring it on, big boy.” And he does.
He steps into me, kissing me hard and pinning me with his hips against the dresser as he shoves my underwear down beneath my bottom. Reaching behind me, he swipes the top of the dresser with his hand so that bric-a-brac goes skittering across the floor. He grabs my ass, lifts me, and places me carefully atop the dresser.
“I don’t think you need these anymore,” he says, preparing to finish the arduous task of removing my panties while I sit there and pant. He pulls them slowly down my legs and over my feet. Then he pauses, lifting my leg and stroking it before bending to kiss the arch of my foot. It sets my loins on fire.
He stands up and reaches his arms around me, resting his lips lightly on my ear. “Or, this,” he whispers, unfastening my bra. I place my hands on his shoulders, and he drags the straps slowly down my arms, holding it in his hands when he’s done, as if he’s weighing it.
“But I do like this.” He’s staring at it and cocking his eyebrow deviously, obviously contemplating some dark deed. It makes me giggle.
“Oh…so, you think this is funny, do you?” He tosses my bra on the chair and covers my breasts with his hands.
I shake my head slowly, and then lean back against the mirror, anticipating whatever sexy, dark deed he has in store for me.
He starts with my neck, kissing and licking, and I feel the goosebumps swimming down my arms as his lips move slowly southward. Ahh…I push my breasts forward and he moans with delight, his mouth full as he sucks and bites first one nipple and then the next.
He places his hands beneath my thighs and gently lifts me, shifting me forward to the edge of the dresser and parting my legs as he kneels down between them. Softly, he kisses my thigh, and I shiver from the brush of his hair and the feel of his hot breath on my sentient bud. I lift my legs, resting my feet on his shoulders. He moans his approval, and pushes his fingertips gently up through my throbbing lips and then back and forth across my swollen clit.
I gasp with delight as I tug his hair, pulling his face into me, and he licks me, long and hard, so that I almost come undone. Oh, God. Yes! Then he places his full, lovely lips over my clit and he licks and sucks until I melt away into ecstasy.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispers as he eases his fingers inside me. “I want to taste you.”
And it’s all the encouragement my body needs. I sit up straight, my head rolling back as I push my hips forward, and I brace myself against the dresser.
“Oh, God!” I pant, my muscles tensing as I give myself up to the violent storm that emanates from my dark, secret place and washes through me like a tsunami. I contract and spasm around his fingers, moaning and crying, as he presses his tongue firmly against my clit. And then finally, once he’s taken all of me that I have to give, he eases his tongue, and I float back into consciousness.
“Oh, my sweet girl,”
he whispers, grasping my ankles and fixing a sweet kiss on my foot before gently removing them both from his shoulders. He stands up, pushing himself further between my legs, and then he wraps them around his waist with his hands. I lean forward against him, my arms drawn around his neck as he slides himself into me.
He inhales sharply as he presses into me, grinding and rolling his hips. “Fuck!” He groans, his eyes closed and his head rolling back on his shoulders. I think he might be coming already. But then he slides his hips back slowly and sinks into me again, his face a mixture of pain and bliss and agony. And his hips begin to move faster, more urgently, as he slams harder into me. The mirror behind us shakes and rattles and threatens.
He stops, wresting his hands beneath my bottom and scooping me off the dresser. I balance on him, lovingly impaled, with my legs wrapped tightly around his hips. He carries me to the side of the bed and lays me down gently, kneeling with his knees at my bottom, and then he slides my legs across his chest and tucks my feet neatly behind his neck.
“Oh, baby,” he coos, rubbing my thigh and kissing my knee. Then slowly, he rocks his hips into me while he strokes my bud with his thumb. Holy fuck shit!
I throw my hands up over my head, scratching at the sheet, moaning with delight as his thumb swishes and swirls and his hips flex in and out. And I’m building again. I raise my hips and his thrusts get faster and faster. Then he pounds hard into me and grinds, and I am gone, lost to him again.
“Ahh!” I cry out, my fingers twitching and clawing, looking for something to ground me, but finding nothing but the sheet.
“Ellie! Fuck!” he shouts, and then he plunges into me again, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips roll and push, and I can feel him spilling and pulsing inside me. He pushes again. “Oh, baby.” He groans, and then flexes once more. “Ahh…” Spent, he collapses onto me.
We lay there silent and motionless for a while, recovering. Finally, he lifts his head, resting his cheek on my breast.
“I think you just almost killed me, little girl.”
“Me? I think you have that backward.” I laugh, stroking his soft hair. “There’s only one hot, sexy hitman in the room that I can see.”
“You calling me a slut? Or, a hitman?” He pretends to be offended and I giggle.
“Well, if the shoe fits…” I tease.
He rolls over and props his head on his elbow, looking down at me, smiling. “Why did you call me a hitman?”
“Because I thought that’s what you were when I first met you. I thought you were going to ‘whack’ me.” He stares at me blankly, and I think maybe he doesn’t understand me. “You know, ‘ice’ me…‘send me to the farm’ or whatever.”
For the first time since I met him, he laughs, really laughs, buries his face into my shoulder, and belly laughs.
“What?” I ask, genuinely confused. Then I catch the laughter, because it’s contagious, as we all know, and I start giggling, too. Soon, we’re both laughing so hard I’m afraid I’m going to wet myself. Finally, the laughter subsides, and we lay there looking at each other, his hand resting on my belly as he strokes me softly with his fingers.
It occurs to me that I’m lying naked with a man under a skylight in the middle of the afternoon. And what’s more, I don’t even care. He seems to love my body, worships it almost. And I am happy to give it to him. I smile.
“So, you thought I was going to ‘whack’ you,” he says, stifling another laugh.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t start that again.”
“And don’t think I missed the other part you said, too.” His eyes sparkle menacingly. “You said I was hot and sexy.”
“No, I didn’t.” Lord knows, he doesn’t need any encouragement in that area.
“Oh, yes, you did!” He laughs and pokes me in the belly with his finger. “Don’t even try to take it back now. You said I was a hot and sexy hitman.”
I break into giggles. “Only because I’m young and inexperienced. And I might need glasses, too.”
He looks at me, interested. “Just how inexperienced are you exactly?”
I blush. “What do mean? I’ve been with a guy before.”
“A guy?” His eyebrows crinkle upward until they’re only about an inch away from his forehead. Is that a look of horror on his face?
“One and a half,” I clarify.
“One and a half? How can you be with a half a man?”
“Boy, not man. And don’t ask. Point is, I’m experienced enough to know better than to shack up for a whole weekend with some hot, sexy hitman I just met.”
“So why did you then?”
I turn my head and stare up through the skylight at the clouds. “I don’t know. I think you sex-ma-tized me.”
He laughs again and leans over to kiss my belly. “I didn’t know I knew how to sex-ma-tize anyone. But I’m glad that you stayed anyway.”
I look at him and smile. “Me, too.”
Chapter Eighteen
I lounge on the sofa, thinking about my wonderful day. After the impromptu, and totally gratifying, afternoon delight, we took a nice, long bubble bath, and then made a quick trip down the road to the country store to pick out something for dinner. I did the shopping, insisting it was my turn to cook for him. When we got home, I kicked him out of the kitchen so I could work without him staring at me and making me nervous. He retreated to his office to do some work of his own, and I whipped up a quick meal of smoked salmon potato cakes with herb sauce and a side of grilled green beans. Not really a hearty man’s supper, but one I knew I could make fast, and make well. He ate three platefuls.
“Hot popcorn coming through!” Cal places my glass of water on the small table beside me and then slides in front of me. I lift my legs so he can sit back down on the sofa next to me. I lay my legs back across his lap and cover us up with the fluffy blanket I nabbed from his closet. I snuggle up close to him and situate the large bowl of popcorn between us so to share.
Cal grabs the remote and clicks a button. Poof! A fire magically appears in the fireplace. He starts the movie that he let me choose, Full Metal Jacket, which is one of my favorites.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out? I can take you to see a new movie, one that you would actually like. I’ll even watch a chick-flick if you want to.”
I look at him warily. That was dangerously close to being a feminist remark. “No. This is perfect. Besides, they won’t let us sit around in our underwear and do this at the theater.” I grin at him, tracing my foot up his thigh under the blanket.
“You’d better be careful, girlie, or your movie time is going to get cut short,” he threatens.
“Well, we’ll have to wait until after Gunnery Sergeant Hartman slaps Private Pyle. I like that part.”
“You’re not serious?” he says, a disbelieving look on his face.
“Shhh.” The movie starts and I giggle, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing a kernel at him.
I can tell he’s staring at me again as I smile, listening to my all-time favorite movie opening. “I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your Senior Drill Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be ‘Sir’!’”
I don’t know why I think that’s so hilarious, but I do. I giggle and sit up, ready to mimic Gunnery Sergeant Hartman as we say the next line together. “Do you maggots understand that?” Then I laugh, because I think I’m really funny when I perform movie lines. Cal laughs, too, but probably not for the same reason.
Somehow, we manage to make it through the next two hours without pausing the movie to shag our brains out. I was skeptical that we could actually pull it off. As the credits roll, I wipe my eyes, still misty after Joker’s ending monologue. It always gets to me when they start singing the Mickey Mouse Club theme song with all those burning buildings in the background, and he talks about his wet dream girl, Mary Jane Rottencrotch, and his homecoming fuck fantasy.
“You’re crying?”
“No!” I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand.
He laughs and switches the television over to the news. “You are a funny girl.” He shakes his head.
Is that good? Or, bad?
I shuffle around and lay my head in his lap, loving the feel of his most precious parts on my cheek, and I curl my legs up on the couch beneath me.
“You sleepy?” he asks, rubbing my hair.
“No. Just really comfortable.” I smile as I lay there listening to the extended weather forecast. But it’s not long before my soft pillow starts poking me in the ear. Oh! I turn over to look at him, smiling. Is he blushing?
He reaches his hand under my head and adjusts his shorts. “Just ignore it.” He grins.
I smile and roll back over, high in the knowledge that I can get him hard by just laying my head on his lap, not even trying. And after all the sex we’ve had today, too!
I find that it’s impossible to ignore a smoking hot man beneath you with a hard-on, and my fingers go exploring up his thigh. He says nothing, but slightly flexes his lap into my cheek.
Donna Runyon for Channel 8 News smiles and thanks Terry for telling us that we have a chance of showers tomorrow. Then she looks at the camera again, solemn and appearing almost distraught, apparently preparing us all for some earth-shattering news.
Suddenly, a picture of Danny Logan flashes on the screen. “And, now, Detective Daniel Logan, a ten year veteran of the Forrest Heights Police Department, was arraigned this evening on multiple felony charges related to his connection with this man…”
I sit up and gasp. “Oh, my gosh!”
Everett’s face appears on the screen now with Danny’s. “Casey Everett of Shady Grove who was convicted of multiple felonies, including drug trafficking and distribution, assault and battery, money laundering, attempted murder, and more…”
“Those dirty bastards!” Cal tosses our blanket on the floor and stands up, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume as he stomps off toward his office.
I look back at Donna Runyon. “The details around Logan’s accessory and attempted murder charges are unclear at this time. Dorinda Lovehart, spokeswoman for the police department refused to comment saying details were still sketchy. Stay tuned as we bring you news and information on these top stories and more. Over to you…”