After the Kiss
Page 2
If I real y, truly wanted out--if I wanted to do the right thing and help the waiter, to help myself, I could tel Max to fuck off and get help. That was who I was when Max met me, who he fel in love with. I should walk away from this crazy relationship and show him that I deserved better.
But every time a new layer of him was revealed in the heat of anger with fists bal ed and blood running, I felt like I'd come too far. And then there was the way he looked at me, with such intensity that it stripped me down to the root, down to my base, primal instincts. Nothing felt as right as him inside of me. Nothing compared to the way he made love. There was stil this part of me that thought my love could save him.
I silenced the whisper of conscience that made me bite my lip. It begged me to set fire to the house of cards we’d built. Instead, I just dug myself in deeper. I turned on my heels--and left Bil y on the ground.
I trailed behind Max up the cold iron steps like some obedient puppy. I didn't meet the eyes of the maître d but felt them burning into my back as we moved through the bustling kitchen and walked back toward our table.
I didn't know what was more terrifying--the man beat within an inch of his life out back or the fact that a new waiter stood beside the table, holding an unopened bottle of Chateau Bleu.
****
TONY
I slapped the bar, my words stumbling over each other. "M-Mike! A b-blubber shop!"
The butchering of my order elicited a high pitched giggle from the pretty young thing beside me. She was sex on a stick; hair the color of wheat, emerald eyes and a rail thin body save a buxom chest that spil ed out the front of her fire engine red dress. She oozed three words--one night stand.
Her name was Darcy, or Marcy or something another and as soon as I saw the heat behind her gaze and felt the lust radiating from her, I knew she was just the thing I needed.
Tonight more than ever.
She twirled a blond strand around her pinky and slithered up closer. "You're a mess."
She leaned over and ran a French tip nail down the front of my black button down shirt, dragging it nice and slow. "Hot, but a mess."
Even in the haze from my umpteenth shot of tequila, I could feel my cock swell in anticipation. The grunt that Mike Jones, owner of Mike’s Drinks and Eats, dished out as he saddled up in front of me said he agreed with part of her assessment.
“Another shop,” I slurred, getting half of it right.
Mike’s wrinkled features hardened. "I think you've had enough, Tony."
I cut my aqua eyes at my old friend. "I'l fucking say when I've had enough."
Under normal circumstances, Mike wouldn't even flinch before giving it to me straight, but he knew the count. Most nights when I darkened his doorway I’d only down a brew or three before cal ing it quits, keeping it nice and respectable. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out something was up. And since me and Mike bonded over the fact that we both wore the navy blue, it wasn’t too hard to figure out why I was pounding them back.
Not everyone could handle the stress of being a cop, and most would be damned if they opened up to some jerk that charged by the hour. That left two things: pussy and booze. It was the medication of choice—and I was overdue on both fronts. But Mike was stil hovering, hesitating before honoring my request.
“Wel ,” I growled at him, holding my empty shot glass up for al to see. “I’m stil waiting.”
Mike shook his head and shuffled away to get my liquor. Satisfied, I turned back to the blonde with the nice rack. It had been awhile since I played the field, but if memory served, a flash of a badge and the heat at my side was usual y enough to get the pheromones going and the underwear dropping. But as if fate itself was on my side, the blonde came to me. She claimed I looked just like some actor she swooned after with my olive skin, dark hair and blue eyes. She’d even said something mildly amusing about my thick lashes. Lashes, and lids, that suddenly felt so heavy…
BAM!
Mike slammed my shot in front of me, making my eyes pop open.
“There,” Mike said gruffly, turning on his heel. He moved like the devil was in his rearview, or like seeing me in such a state disgusted him.
"Finally," I snapped, throwing an annoyed look at Mike’s back. I threw the shot back like lightning and pounded the empty glass down on the bar. “Another!”
The blond tossed her curtain of hair as she tried to turn her charm on Mike when he came skating back down to our end of the bar. "Isn't he a trip? So freaking hilarious!"
"Yeah," Mike said, clearly unamused. "A regular comedian."
She let out a giggle but morphed it into an uncomfortable cough when she saw the no-nonsense lines on Mike’s cracked face. She nudged me. “Tough crowd, huh?”
I shot Mike a look before turning back to the flaxen haired woman. “You got no idea.”
She dashed off to do her makeup or something another and I let out a groan since Mike took it as a chance to kick start some sort of an intervention.
“I like a night out just like any other schmuck, but don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”
Mike said warily.
I rol ed my eyes at him. “Why do you care? My money’s good, isn’t it?”
Hurt flashed across Mike’s face before it disappeared. He cleared his throat and leaned down below the bar. He pul ed out a bottle of tequila and refil ed my glass. “You know this ain’t about money.”
I did. But I had to be hard. Cold. It was the only way I’d get through the night, knowing what was waiting for me in the morning. “Not in the mood to get shrinked, Mike.”
"I know you miss Katie, but burying your dick in this broad ain't the answer, son." He leaned in and lowered his volume a couple of levels. "But if you do, you better wrap it, because I see her singing some new guy's praises every other week."
I threw the shot back and winced as it went down like liquid fire. I flipped the glass before answering. I needed a break, a little breather to keep from losing my shit at the very mention of her name. "This ain’t about Katie. Fuck Katie."
I couldn’t even convince myself. Almost two years and every night I came home to her, letting down my guard little by little until I was vulnerable. When I got the promotion, I couldn’t help but unload al the crazy shit that came with working as a detective. Nothing was like her arms tight around me when I recounted al the horrible things people did to one another. The blood seeping out of the dead, everything they were or ever would be stained red.
Katie always pushed me to go back to school. Always told me that I had a gift and should become a writer. Make the darkness fiction.
But Katie left, tired of waiting for me to make an honest woman of her. Tired of waiting for me to make a real commitment. She didn't get it--with al the evil in the world, that commitment would just give both of us more to lose. A diamond and the white picket fence just wasn’t something I was ready to invest in or have ripped away from me when I least expected it.
It was better to not bet on it at al , to not get entangled in fairy tales and unicorns.
"Wel is it work?" Mike probed, wiping the bar with a dingy towel. “Gotcha working on a tough case?”
Ding ding ding. "Work is work. Protecting and serving. You know the dril ."
Mike grunted. He rarely talked about his days as a cop unless he was lit, but it was common knowledge that his early retirement was due to a shot he took to the back. A few inches to the right and he would have been in a wheelchair. If his partner wouldn't have sacrificed himself, taking two to the chest, he probably wouldn't have made it out of there at al .
He stood there, staring me down, and came up wanting. I wasn’t gonna spil .
He shrugged and reached forward, snatching my empty glass away. “Either way, I’m cutting you off. You ain’t gonna drink yourself to death on my watch.”
“You serious?” I said incredulously.
“Damn right,” he said sternly. “You’l thank me later.”
I was fond of the guy. After al , his esta
blishment was packed to the rim ful of people, al gathered around the bar like moths to a flame, but Mike was acting like it was just the two of us.
I was ten sheets to the wind, but I wasn’t oblivious to the patrons giving him the stink eye because his attention was locked on me. When I looked into Mike’s steely glare it was as obvious as the nose on my face—he was worried about me.
Mike was more of a father to me than the man who carried the title. That guy was little more than a sperm donor except on the nights when he became a monster, putting the fear of god in both me and my mother.
Mike gave me the lowdown on what was what when I first moved to Fal s Lake and was an ear when I needed to gripe. And he just got it. He would understand if I laid it al out. But my cover needed to be bul etproof. No leaks. No one could know the real reason for my out of character behavior but me and God if I wanted to walk out of it in one piece.
The last undercover that Kournikova discovered had an unfortunate "accident".
Kournikova owned a meat processing plant outside of the town limits and the poor fool took a fal . Right into a meat grinder. After seeing the grisly pictures, I hadn’t eaten beef in over a month. Hel , I hadn’t eaten much of anything once my undercover assignment was given a go.
The one thing that helped me stay solid and sure about it al was the folders fil ed with the people that Kournikova crossed paths with. Most ended up six feet under or wishing they were. They’d never be made whole, because he was a greedy, sadistic, son of a bitch. So even if I was a little nervous about the whole affair, taking out a crime boss and his goons made the stress of it worth it.
Mike's eyes may have been fil ed with concern, tel ing me I could confide in him, but I pretended I didn't see it. “I’m good.”
“I ain’t asking you to get al warm and gushy,” Mike pressed. “But you know you can talk to me, right?”
"Girl's been gone awhile, huh?" I grunted, ignoring him. I licked my lips as I staggered from the stool. "Think I'm gonna go check on her."
As I ebbed through the wave of people in the bar, I put everything else on the back burner. With the music and chatter fil ing my ears, I gave into the numbness that dul ed my fears and misgivings about the days ahead. I focused on one singular thing: the want in my groin.
I didn't even scope out the place before I pushed into the ladies bathroom. I was squarely in Don’t Give a Shit territory, but was glad the bathroom was clear except for her. She was al legs and sex, standing at the mirror. She jiggled her hips, dancing to the music that poured from through the old wood door. I swal owed deep as I imagined my hands on her round hips, holding them steady as I fucked her from behind.
She dropped a tube of lipstick in her purse and turned to face me, giving me a look that made my cock thump in my pants. "Hey you--what took you so long?"
"Shut up," I said brusquely, funneling my aggression at her.
Her icy eyes narrowed, but she obeyed. She pursed her lips and slowly hiked up her dress, teasing me with a flash of her crotch.
God damn. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“Such a dirty slut,” I whispered, moving toward her, white hot need making my blood simmer. I pressed my body against hers, feeling the heat pour off her in waves. “You’re gonna take it good and hard, aren’t you?”
“Baby,” she said in my ear, soft as a secret, “You have no idea.”
Without another word, my mouth crashed into hers. My kisses devoured her with a hungry smack that she met without a beat. She was a wild thing, shoving her tongue between my lips. I slammed her back into the porcelain sink and she cried out into my mouth, the sound going straight to my bal s.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Don’t stop!”
My hands were in her hair, pul ing tight as I devoured her. I wrapped the long gold strands around my fists like rope, tugging as I ground into her, pul ing her panties down. If she wasn't into it, didn't like it rough, she could have fooled me. Her hands were between us, on my belt buckle, trying to get the bulge free and inside her.
And god did I want to be inside her--in a place where names didn't matter, where it was only the throb of my cock as it dove in and out of her pussy. A place where the music that poured from the speakers outside didn’t compare to our symphony of moans and groans.
Once my length was bared and her skirt was up, the blonde leaned in for a kiss but I answered her by spinning her like a merry go round. She was bent over the sink, ripe for the taking. I didn't want to look into her eyes when I stormed inside of her. I didn't want to make love
—I wanted to fuck.
She curved her spine and I let out a hungry moan as I probed her moist entrance. I dipped the head of my cock just inside her, devouring the smack of anticipation her body made.
She was so wet. So ready.
With a grunt, I thrust my ful length inside and her pussy gasped around me—or maybe it was her. Al I knew for certain was that she felt like heaven. She was a reprieve from the insanity that I knew was in store.
Our flesh slapped as I rocked in and out of her, pul ing, grinding. I beat out a frenzied rhythm, rowing into her canal with sighs of pleasure. The screech of her nails as she dug into my buttocks was a siren song that pul ed me to the depths. The only salvation was release and I was almost there.
Her pussy clamped down on me when she was in the throes of her own climax. The building pressure consumed me and with a howl, I exploded in rhythmic pumps. I unloaded the seeds of my desire in the condom, staying in her velvet folds until my heart rate simmered down. I didn’t want to move an inch. If I moved, I’d have to come down from this high. Back to reality.
Her giggles sliced through my bliss. Was the sound of her voice always so annoying?
She pul ed her underwear back up and turned to face me. She staggered a bit as she tried to balance herself against the sink. “That was delicious!”
My head was pounding as I tucked my penis back in my pants. She tried to latch her arm around my waist. It was meant to be a show of affection, but I didn’t want it. I grabbed her arm midair and chunked it back her way.
She let out a chuckle. “That’s okay, baby. I don’t like cuddling after either.” Her voice went down a few octaves, coming out as a purr. “You know, we could always take this party back to my place.”
The room spun a bit, the alcohol seeping in and making me clutch the sink. I couldn’t believe I’d entertained the thought of stumbling home with her because right now, al I wanted was to be alone. To fal asleep as Anthony Suarez. Tomorrow, I would be someone else.
"-because that was amazing," she gushed, not even noticing my lack of enthusiasm. "I just know I’ve got another in me and-"
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. I finished zipping up and chunked the used condom in the trash. “I’m just gonna head on home.”
“But I thought-”
I gave her a look and she wisely turned on her heels. I heard her mutter something under her breath as she slammed back into the bar. Dick. Maybe asshole. Whatever. The sobering act of what we’d done was slowly sinking into my bones. She didn’t mean anything to me. Nothing at al .
I washed my hands nice and slow, not even looking at the person in the mirror. The person reflected back didn’t matter anyway. I would be faceless, just another mook, with a hidden purpose to gather evidence. My life, my death would be intrinsically tied to the people of Fal ’s Lake. If I failed, I’d fail them. I’d fail himself.
I walked like a zombie back into the bar, reaching into my pocket. I yanked a couple of bil s from my wal et and tossed them beside my empty glass. I gave Mike a curt nod before heading to the exit, not missing the disappointment the old man threw my way.
Once I stepped outside, I popped the col ar of my jacket, slowing long enough to pul out a cig. I dug out the aluminum pack, pausing only to light one before continuing my shuffle home.
Couldn’t stop moving. The bitter chil would eat me alive and when I stopped, I had time to think.
2
EBONY
Shards of daylight filtered in from the blinds, creating a kaleidoscope of color that il uminated Max’s bedroom. It was funny, he was always talking about how proud he was to be a Kournikova, but instead of living like a prince, his room looked like every other guy’s at State.
There was the black brown desk from Ikea, lined with the expedit bookshelf. Textbooks were interspersed with empty alcohol bottles and random gadgets. The wal s were lined with posters of mostly naked women, al with golden skin, and near emaciated bodies except for their xl, almost comical breasts. I didn't look like any of them, with my midnight skin and kinky braids that spil ed past my shoulders. Fresh from a shower, I'd pul ed on one of his State t-shirts and it was far from baggy on my curvy frame.
I stepped from the doorway of the bathroom and caught a glimpse of his jeans from last night, the waiter's blood brown and dried. When he stirred, swal owing before going back to sleep, I realized I was frozen, like last night, my heart racing. I hadn't even done anything to ignite his temper, but a part of me was afraid to wake him. Afraid to wake the beast.
Stop being sil y, I ordered myself silently, padding to the bedside where my yoga pants lie. They were in a bundle of darkness, discarded last night when he'd scooped me in his arms, pressing whole new buttons. The feel of him, swol en and hungry, tight against my abdomen, made it easy for the reasons why not to be overshadowed by my body's resounding yes, yes, yes. And don't stop. Never stop. Because after the climax and my thundering heart tapered to a steady beat, the sound of him beating the waiter rang in my ears...
I moved from his bedroom, closing the door with a tap. It was only a flimsy spread of wood, but the barrier was sobering. It helped me see clearly. Away from him, out of his arms, with his cock tucked beneath the covers and not buried in me and his eyes closed and not staring at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, the truth was too heavy to ignore. I had to end things, before I found myself on the wrong end of his anger.