27. Vito
Chapter 27
Vito
It’s taken me over half an hour to find just the type of porn I was looking for. My lube is on my nightstand ready to go, already got a hand down my boxers and wrapped around my stiffening shaft…and then someone knocks on my fucking door.
“Busy!” I yell.
The only answer is another clumsy round of knocking.
“Christ.” I toss my phone down on the bed.
I grab my black silk robe from the back of a chair and slip it on as I storm toward the door. Most of the staff running this villa were older than Bryan when they started working here. The last thing I need is Marina or Inés having a heart attack after seeing me bare chested in my boxers…with a hard on.
But it’s not a withered cleaning lady standing outside the door. I gather up my robe, lashing the belt over my waist in an attempt to hide the bulge in the front of my boxers.
“Andy? What are you doing here?”
She looks surprised, like she was expecting someone else to rip open the door, but then shakes off the expression. “Vito,” she croaks.
Then she just stands there, green eyes wide, like she’s forgotten how to speak.
I lift my eyebrows at her. “Uh…do you need something?”
“Yeah…ummm…”
That’s when the smell of alcohol hits me. When I see the glassy look in her eyes, and the way her chin trembles.
I dart out of my room, squinting down both sides of the empty hallway.
“What happened?” I demand, but she’s already slipped past me into my room, heading not-quite straight for my bed.
Where my lube is.
Where my phone is lying with a porn video paused on the screen.
Fuck.
I rush past her, back handing the lube into the wastebasket as I turn and fall onto the bed. I land on my side, facing her, head propped on my elbow.
“This’s super inappropriate,” Andy says, pausing a few steps away from my bed.
She’s in one of the villa’s white silk guest pajama sets. A fluffy white robe covers it up down to her knees, but the knot she tied in the belt is on its last legs. Her hair is loose and a little tangled, like she’s been tossing and turning.
I reach behind me and shove my phone under a pillow. “You’re the one who knocked on my door, babe.”
“Ew. Don’t call me that.” She blinks at me a few times like she’s wondering what the hell she’s doing here. Then she seems to remember, snapping her fingers on the second go as she points at me. “Can’t sleep.” She purses her lips, shakes her head, and makes her unsteady way closer. “Brain won’t shut off.”
“Even with all that alcohol you’ve had?”
“Fucking Llorona,” she mutters angrily as she sways a little.
I frown at her. “Who the hell is…” I trail off into a chuckle. “Jesus, you were doing shots of Llorona with Nyx, weren’t you?” I click my tongue at her. “Thought you weren’t in the mood for drinks?”
“We decided on a girls’ night,” she says, sounding slightly defensive and a helluva lot more confused. “Bad idea.”
“The tequila, or making friends with Nyx?”
She stares off into the distance, then lets out a fat sigh, reluctantly crawling onto the foot of the bed. “Both. God.” She slumps down face-first, her hair spilling over my dark green sheets.
I have to restrain myself from reaching over and letting the strawberry-blond strands run through my fingers. My dick bobs in my lap, and I hurriedly move into a sit, grabbing a pillow and using it to smother my hard-on.
“You’re lucky you’re a guy,” Andy mumbles.
“Not right now, I’m not,” I say to myself.
She props herself up on her elbows, squinting at me. “What d’you say?”
“Nothing. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I didn’t tell you anything!” Her face scrunches up, then her eyes fly wide open. “Did I?”
“Relax. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here.” I frown at her. “Do you want more alcohol, sweetheart?”
“Ew. Don’t call me that either.” She considers this for the longest time, then shakes her head. “Booze won’t help. Just need…someone.”
“Need how?” A smile finds its way onto my mouth, and Andy stares at it suspiciously.
“Holy cow,” she mutters. “Bad idea. This—this is a bad idea.” She tries to get onto her hands and knees—I presume so she can crawl off the bed—but I lean over and grab her arm.
“I’m not going to jump you. You’ve made it pretty clear that you’re not interested.”
I can count the amount of times women have rejected me on one hand. Although a few of them hadn’t spoken English, so it might just have been a communication problem.
Rejection has never hurt this much before, though.
“Oh?” Her surprise is insulting, like she genuinely didn’t think I had it in me.
I get up, tightening my belt as I stalk over to the coffee machine on the other side of the bed. “Let’s get some caffeine in you?”
“How’s that going to get me to sleep?”
I spin around, sighing as I run a hand through my hair.
“Booze or weed are the only things that help me get some shut eye.”
“Weed?”
I stop with my hand on the machine’s start button. “Yeah.” I glance at her over my shoulder. “You keen?”
She rolls onto her back, staring up at my ceiling for a moment before lifting her head with obvious effort. “Never done weed.”
I snort. “You don’t do weed. It’s not meth.”
My fucking robe keeps slipping open, so I have to wrangle it closed over my stomach as I head for the other side of the room. Andy watches me with a small frown between her eyes until I disappear inside my walk-in closet to fetch my bag of party tricks.
I come back and climb onto the bed, sitting cross-legged against the headboard with the small suitcase flipped open on my lap.
Andy tries to look at me over her shoulder, and then comes leopard-crawling up the bed to my side, folding one of my pillows in half to rest her head on. She stares blearily at the contents, then blows out air in what I assume was supposed to be a whistle.
“Holy cow, that’s a lot of drugs.”
“Thought you didn’t do drugs.”
“I know what Oxy and Xanax look like.”
She picks up one of many bags of weed. I get bored of smoking the same shit all the time, so I like having a few strains on hand.
“And marijuana.”
I snort a laugh, and cover it up with a cough when she gives me the stink eye. “Allergies.”
She picks up a bag of white powder. “What’s this?”
“No, no, mi fresita . Coke’s only for grown ups,” I say as I snatch it out of her hand.
She scowls up at me as I sprinkle some weed down the crease of a gold-leaf rolling paper. If this is really her first time, then I’ll make sure she gets blazed in style.
“What did you just call me?”
“Not a grown up.”
I roll up the gold paper and seal it with a swipe of my tongue as she watches. Maybe it’s the fact that I had my cock in my hand only a few minutes ago, but being half-naked, rolling a joint for a virgin smoker, it’s kinda erotic. Especially when her gaze locks with my lips before she hurriedly looks away.
“You’re pretty good at that,” she mutters suspiciously.
“I’m pretty good at a lot of things. Excellent at even more.” I glance at her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes at me.
This was not how I’d intended to woo her, and it’s throwing me off balance.
Since meeting her, I’ve spent a great deal of time planning how to get her into my bed. Who’d have thought she’d climb in all by herself?
Guess I have the boogeyman to thank for that.
I light the gold-leaf joint and take a hit, making sure it’s drawing properly before handing it to her. She just stares at it.
“Go on.”
“I dunno…” She pushes into a sit, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the weed. Fuck knows why—it’s Blueberry OG.
“You said you wanted to get some shut eye.” I take another drag, speaking in a tight voice as I keep the smoke in my lungs for a beat. “Chose a nice mellow indica, perfect for winding down before bed.”
“Thought it just got you high.”
“There are different kinds of high.” I hand her the joint again.
I guess I finally wore her down, because she rolls her lips together in surrender and reluctantly takes the joint. She puffs gingerly at it, and then hands it back.
“Did any of that even hit your throat?” I take another long pull.
“I’m testing it first.”
I sigh and hand it back. “One proper drag.”
Her shoulders droop, but she takes it back and hits it properly. Maybe a little too properly. I’m just in time to pluck the joint from her fingers before her coughing fit starts.
I set the roach down on the edge of my nightstand before going over to my mini fridge and grabbing an Evian.
She’s still coughing when I hand it to her, and she downs nearly half the bottle before the fit subsides.
“Holy crap,” she mutters, wiping at her eyes with a knuckle. “You could have warned me.”
“Best way to teach someone how to swim is to throw them in the deep end.”
“Best way to drown someone, you mean.” She blinks at me a few times and then shrugs. “I don’t feel anything.”
I smile and lean over to collect the roach from the nightstand. My robe’s gone and slipped open again, but I don’t bother closing it. I’m already sinking under the indica’s warm, fuzzy blanket of bliss, so I could care less if Andy wants to clutch her pearls because I’m half naked.
My dick gives a sullen throb in my lap.
Fuck, now I’m thinking about what it would be like giving Andy a pearl necklace.
I hand her the joint, then take it back when we both realize it’s gone out. I light it for her again, and she takes another drag. She coughs again, but at least it doesn’t sound like she’s hacking up a lung this time.
As she hands it back, her eyes droop. “Shit. I feel it now. I shouldn’t have taken that last hit.”
I chuckle. “It’s not heroin. You’ll be fine.”
“I know.” Her gaze drops, lips rolling together until her mouth’s just a hard line. I drop the roach into my half-empty beer, turning back to her with a frown.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head.
I lift her chin with my knuckle, forcing her to look at me. “Is it really hitting you that hard?”
Her throat moves as she swallows, eyes skittish as if she doesn’t want to focus on me. But eventually she does, and my skin turns cold at the sad look in her eyes.
“I’ve done heroin.”
There’s something about the way she says it.
“Why do I get the feeling it wasn’t by choice?”
Her green eyes settle on mine, widening slightly. “Because it wasn’t.”
Shit…you think you know someone…
I keep my voice light as I release her chin. “Is that what’s keeping you up? Monsters from your past?”
“Monsters,” she says through a quiet huff, shaking her head. “They’re everywhere these days, aren’t they?”
“Monsters don’t always hide in the shadows.”
Her eyes narrow. “Guess the son of Sergio Domingo would know best.”
I give her a dry chuckle. “Damn. Low blow.”
She comes to sit beside me, propped up against the headboard. She starts fussing with her robe, trying to adjust it so it’s covering her pajama top, but too much of it is bundled under her body. She relents with an annoyed huff, and pushes her head against the padded, dark brown leather behind her.
I snatch my cigarettes from the nightstand and pull one out, sticking it in my mouth and getting ready to light it with a cupped hand. When I catch Andy’s eyebrow cocking, I hold out my hands. “You mind?”
“I’d prefer not to die from lung cancer, if it’s alright with you.”
I huff at her, the sound muffled around the cigarette’s filter. “This is my room.”
“That’s even worse,” she says with a sniff, crossing her arms over her chest. I don’t think she realizes how tight it stretches her white pajama top over her breasts which, judging from the nipples showing through the thin fabric, aren’t covered by a bra. “You’re lying here all night inhaling those carcinogens.”
The look of disgust on her face is enough to put me off the smoke anyway.
I toss it back on the nightstand. “You know, if you just came here to question my life choices, maybe you should go back to your room.”
Her hands slip out to hold on to her upper arms as if she’s suddenly getting cold. “Sorry.”
Fuck it, why do I suddenly feel like I’m the one who has to apologize? Damn Blueberry.
“Whatever,” I mutter. “I was about to go to bed anyway. Let yourself out whenever you want.”
I switch off the lamp on my nightstand and shrug off my robe, tossing it to the foot of the bed. Andy remains motionless in the dark beside me as I slide my legs under the covers and turn onto my side, my back to her.
She waits until I’m just getting drowsy before climbing off the bed.
I’m not sure if I should be happy or sad that she’s leaving. I’ve been too busy to pick up chicks or send for a cartel whore the past few days. It would have been nice having a warm body in my bed, at least until morning.
The mattress sinks down again, Andy mumbling something about sleeping in pants.
I’ve never liked the idea of a king sized bed, but I’m starting to see the attraction as Andy wriggles around beside me. I do my best not to listen to her moving around, but there’s nothing else to focus on.
“Jesus,” I mutter when her foot brushes mine. “Should I get out?”
She giggles.
Giggles .
Shit, she’s high as fuck, isn’t she?
“Sorry,” she stage-whispers. “It’s just so…silky in here. Feels like I’m gonna slide off and land on the floor.”
“I don’t like cotton.”
“Why so defensive?” she says through another giggle. “Didn’t say I minded. Feels kinda nice.” She starts kicking her legs, moving them all over the satin sheets.
I’m annoyed—but not surprised—when she kicks me again. I grab her thigh, trying to get her to stop wriggling around like a kid on a sugar rush.
She freezes.
“Andy?”
“Yeah?” she says, a little breathlessly.
“Where the fuck are your pants?”
“I’m not, like, naked. You don’t like cotton…I don’t like pants. Not when I’m sleeping, anyway.”
I swallow hard. I’m holding on to her bare thigh, the muscles beneath tensed. I know I need to let go, but fuck it, I’m really struggling to get that message through to my hand. There’s enough light to make out the shimmer of her eyes, her creamy skin, the way her pajama top clings to her body.
Great. Now my dick seems to think we’re picking up right where I left off with the porn video.
Shit…where the hell is my phone?
I snatch my hand away, rolling onto my side to search under the pillows. Andy makes a surprised sound, like she thinks I’m lunging at her.
“What are you?—?”
I don’t know how Andy finds the phone before I do. She didn’t even know it existed. Just my luck, I guess.
“Oh. Looking for this?” She hands over the phone.
I fumble it in the dark, dropping it. She squeals when I grab it off her lap.
“Christ, sorry.”
“It’s—it’s okay?—“
I pick up the phone just the right way, my thumb over the fingerprint reader, and of course it turns on.
Of course the video starts playing.
Peach-colored light washes both our faces. My quiet room is suddenly filled with the sound of wild panting, fierce grunting, and almost pained mewling.
“Shit. Fuck!” I mutter, my hands so clumsy with embarrassment that I drop the phone again as I try to turn it the right way up to go out of the video.
Andy falls back on the bed, hugging her stomach as she laughs.
I finally exit the video and turn off the phone, tossing it on my nightstand. I fall onto my back, hands over my face in the dark.
“Think you’ll just turn in for the night, huh?” Her voice is thick with laughter.
“Shut up.”
“Getting ready to go to bed, huh?”
“I said shut it.”
“What were you watching? Can I see.”
“Go to sleep,” I grumble.
“No, seriously.” Andy rustles the sheets next to me.
I grunt in pain when she starts climbing over me to get the phone off my nightstand.
“Andy.”
“Was an orgy, wasn’t it? I saw at least four people.”
“Andy!” I try grabbing her around the waist, and she squeals like a gutted pig.
“No, stop! That tickles!”
I can’t help myself at that point.
Although I’ve developed a tolerance for weed over the years, I had a lot more than Andy. And I’d been drinking. So to say I’m more stoned than her is an understatement.
So when she says she’s ticklish? In a normal frame of mind, it would be hard to resist.
“No! Vito! Please! God, stop!” She breaks off into frantic giggles, slapping weakly at me as I burrow my fingertips into her sides. “Shit, stop! Stop!”
She’s breathless with frustrated laughter, completely unable to defend herself. I finally relent, and she flops down on me like a dead fish. She’d found her way onto her back during her struggles, her head near my shoulder, legs twisted between mine.
I’m still holding on to her belly with one hand, keeping her in place.
I can’t make myself let go.
Her breathing slows, becomes deeper. Slowly, her muscles go taut.
“Asshole,” she murmurs.
“You brought that on yourself.”
“What? How?”
I feel her breath on my face, and turn to look at her. “Looking at my phone. That’s an invasion of privacy.”
She huffs at me, and that’s all it takes to annihilate the last of my reservations.
Honestly, she only has herself to blame. Or…possibly the weed.
With a twist of my hips, I throw her off me and roll on top of her.
She’s still gasping in surprise when I brush my lips against her jaw, working my way to her mouth by touch alone.
“Vito, don’t…”
She trails off when I plant a featherlight kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her chest rises and falls under me, her breathing picking up pace. She grabs my shoulder, but instead of pushing me away, drags her fingers down my arm.
“You can leave if you want,” I murmur, my lips so close that they’re brushing her skin as I speak.
“I should,” she says, turning her head away.
“Not scared of monsters under the bed anymore?”
My lips find her ear. I plant tiny kisses on its shell as I slowly lower my full weight on her. Her thighs were already parted, and there’s only the slightest resistance before they open to let my hips sink between them.
A shudder goes through her. The fingertips caressing my arm become claws, digging into my flesh.
I hiss, snatching her earlobe between my teeth and nipping her hard enough to make her gasp. My cock’s rock hard now, and I buck my hips, grinding it against her underwear.
“Shit,” she spits out, sounding angry, frustrated, confused.
She slides a hand into my hair. I rock against her again, and she whimpers, her hand tightening painfully.
I want to kiss her so fucking bad, but if I move my head, I might lose some hair.
“I’m getting some mixed signals?—“
Andy shoves me away. “Screw you, Vito!”
I land on my back on the floor with a surprised grunt, staring up at the ceiling before I can gather myself. I get to my knees, fumbling around on the nightstand for the light, switching it on.
Andy blinks over the side of the bed at me with owlish eyes, snatching the sheets over her and drawing them up to her chin like she’s naked.
“Mind telling me what the hell’s going on?”
Her lips move like she’s biting them, then she shakes her head.
We stay that way for a long moment, then she whispers, “Do you want me to go?”
I consider it the entire time it takes me to climb back into bed and get under the sheets again. As I punch my pillow a few times to get it into the right shape. As I throw a hand over my forehead and take a few deep breaths.
She didn’t come here for sex. I guess she really did just need a warm body to keep the Boogeyman away.
“Stay,” I say in a rough voice, and then drag a spare pillow between us, making sure we don’t accidentally touch during the night. Fuck knows what would happen then.
She lies down and rolls onto her side, her back turned to me.
I glance over at her, and then turn off the light before I can stare for longer than whatever the hell is deemed appropriate in this fucked up situation.
Should have told her to leave.
I already regret it.
But then she whispers, “Thanks, Vito,” and it’s not just my dick that gives a happy little bounce at her voice.
My heart does too.