Chapter 31
E WAN
Something happened in that car but I won’t dig into it right now.
I’ve been dying to put my hands on her, peel her clothes off, and feel her warm naked body against mine.
Even without me asking more questions, I notice the dark cloud hovering over her face.
So I’ll give it another try.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” she says, dropping her backpack on a chair and looking around the room.
It’s an upgraded version of the motel room we used last night, and her face lights up a little.
Courteous, I help her take her jacket off before removing mine too.
“The food will arrive in a few minutes,” I say.
My plan is to eat after we fuck.
“Okay.”
She barely finishes saying that, and my phone pings with a message.
“It’s probably here already,” I say, checking the message. “Yes, it is.”
I move to the door and walk outside where the delivery person hands me a bag of food. I put cash in their hand, and they thank me before we both pull away.
She looks at me with wide eyes when I walk in.
“Hungry?” I ask.
A smile tugs at her lips.
“We can eat later,” she says.
“That’s what I thought.”
I drop the bag of food on the table and pivot to her.
She gives me a smile when I snake my arms around her body.
“Who bothered you tonight?” I ask, unable to squash my curiosity.
No one’s messing with what’s mine.
She gives me a distracting laugh.
“No one.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, grinning while nuzzling her neck.
Her arms wind around my neck, her body heated against mine.
“Yes.”
I lift my head and look down my nose at her.
Her eyes look like water ruffled by the wind.
“We can’t fuck if I don’t know what it is,” I say, the tension in her jaw telling me it’s something important.
What the fuck can it be?
It’s not her boss.
He was a no show this evening––smart man.
Is it her ex again?
“Is it a man?”
She’s quiet, and that’s my answer.
She seems terrified by my reaction, so I give her a casual laugh and run my lips down her neck again, speaking while I feel the quiver buried in her skin.
“Do you want me to kill him?” I ask with dark humor, and her body tenses even more.
I chuckle again and place a kiss on her smooth skin.
“You don’t want me to kill him,” I say, bringing my gaze to her again.
I rest my hand on the root of her neck.
“It’s your ex.”
“What makes you say that?”
I flash a smile.
“Only an ex can drive a woman up the wall, although it’s not worth the jail time to get rid of him.”
Finally, her frown dissolves.
“What did the fucker do?” I ask, slowly stroking her skin below her earlobe.
Goosebumps form beneath my fingertips.
“He’s drunk and sobbing at my door. My neighbor called me to tell me about him and put him on the phone,” she says in response to my questioning look.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to kill him?” I joke, and she shakes her head from side to side before pulling closer to me, tilting her face up, and pressing her lips against mine.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of him.”
“I won’t,” I say against her lips. “No one will find his body,” I say, a smile in my voice.
She laughs, amused.
“I hope you’re joking.”
“I hope too, although it’s a possibility.”
She gestures dismissively.
“I’ve already dealt with him. I told him to go home and leave me alone. He was never jealous when we were together, and now he’s suddenly jealous of you.”
“I have this effect on my women’s exes.”
Her smile falters.
“I hope there weren’t that many women,” she murmurs, her eyes flooded with emotions.
“You are the first one,” I say seriously, and her smile vanishes.
She kisses me, and I respond with paced strokes that get me hard and make her burn with passion in my arms.
My hands move down before lifting the hemline of her top and rolling it over her shoulders.
“Killing him is still a possibility, but I understand your concerns,” I say, removing the rest of her clothes.
With her naked and her hair looking like a dark whirlpool, I unbuckle my belt and pull down my zipper before lifting her up and pressing her back against the wall.
My erection stands at attention, so when I let her down, I fill her up smoothly, getting washed by her wetness and earning a satisfied moan from her.
“We fucking earned this,” I say, letting her down even more until her walls are stretched, and some pain sidles up to her, making her wince.
“Too much of a good thing?” I murmur, smiling, lifting her up just a bit and holding her ass so I can pull back a little and move into her.
Her insides tremble, more juices dripping down my shaft.
She locks onto me, her thighs squeezing my waist, and her arms looped and fastened around my neck.
I tilt my hips, and holding her with one arm, I press my elbow against the wall, and rock my hips slowly as my lips connect with hers.
With ease, I push my tongue into her mouth and kiss her slowly, mirroring the rhythm of my thrusts.
She moans quietly. That’s my girl.
Before long, we’re only two bodies in tune with each other. Her hands move down my back while I sink my teeth into her lip like it’s a ripe peach.
Moans vibrate in her chest, and her center pulses around me while my shaft barely contains the tension building up.
It’s been a while since I wanted to satisfy a woman the way I want to satisfy her.
Her breaths are soft and ragged, and her eyes are closed as I pump into her, enjoying every moment of her unconditional surrender.
She’s no longer seems aware of her surroundings or what has gotten her here.
What brought us to this room.
What made us strike this deal.
What held us back in the beginning.
She is all mine, all the barriers gone, all the obstacles removed. All the risks taken into considerations and ignored. At least for now.
I won’t make her ex disappear, only because I like this woman too much, but sooner of later, he might need something more compelling than her words to get lost.
I come inside her with her shaking in my arms, and I have to admit it’s the best feeling ever. And then, as soon as I put her down and hold her up so she doesn’t collapse, my seed dripping down her legs, I want a repeat.
SCARLETT
The following day
We’ll be doing something different on Friday, but I don’t know what it is.
He didn’t tell me.
We should be doing some Christmas shopping, or should I say some last minute Christmas shopping?
We haven’t talked about that, but I want to buy something nice for Mrs. Eisenhower.
Yes, her.
She did all that nasty work last night, convincing my ex to take his grievances someplace else.
She and I met this morning.
There was no way around it.
She gave me a piece of her mind, and shared some of her useful life experience with me––not so useful in my view.
She married her high school sweetheart, had a long marriage, and grieved over his death.
She’s been a widow for a decade and never met someone else as she swore off other men.
Her telling me to be careful with people’s feelings did nothing for me.
And I didn’t have the time or wasn’t in the right disposition to give her the scoop on my failed marriage.
To tell her how I wanted to have a long marriage like hers but didn’t have the right man for that.
Besides, I was still basking in the afterglow after a long night of satisfying sex, and my attention was still sidetracked by what had happened in that motel room.
We didn’t sleep at the motel last night.
We had sex, ate our food, and had sex again.
And again.
At five in the morning, he drove me home.
Luckily, he dropped me off a block away. I asked him to do that. For one, I didn’t know whether Joachim was still in front of my house or not, and I wanted to avoid a scene and have Ewan witness it.
He respected my wish, but something inside me told me he wasn’t exactly joking when he said he’d take my ex-husband out.
Maybe he wasn’t straight out considering killing him, but for sure, he wanted to give him something to sob about.
So, it all worked well.
I’m sure my neighbor knew what time I’d returned home when we had our little chat in the afternoon before leaving for my next job in Manhattan.
I was pet-sitting for a lovely lady on the Upper East Side. The only way Ewan agreed with my traveling to Manhattan by myself––I don’t know what I’ll be doing when he and I will be over––was to use his driver and the car he’d sent for me.
I couldn’t say no to his proposal, so I traveled and arrived in style before finishing my work a few minutes ago.
Ewan and I will meet up at a café on Lexington Avenue at five.
Before getting there, I’m browsing a few stores and picking up something for Mrs. Eisenhower.
A pair of comfy slippers, and a hand cream set.
I have them gift wrapped before I pick up a Christmas card to go with it.
Later, I walk into the café and sit at the table, writing a few words for her before eating an avocado toast with smoked salmon and sipping tea.
Five minutes before five, I check the time on my phone.
He and I never talk on the phone.
We exchanged numbers, which was nice, but other than using our phones in case of an emergency, we never chatted on the phone.
It works for me.
I had a long phone relationship with my ex before we got married. So he kind of ruined that for me.
Maybe we’d been in touch too much.
Maybe we weren’t a good fit.
Maybe I needed to pay more attention.
The gray daylight withers away as the lampposts’s warm glowing spreads over the sidewalks.
Absently, I look at the people walking up and down the street when a dark silhouette catches my eye.
The man wears black clothes, and his eyes have the intensity of the moonlight.
He has his hands tucked in his pockets, and a smile curves his lips when our eyes connect.
Grinning, I wave at him.
How long has he been standing there, staring at me?
He looks up and down the street, and, avoiding the stream of people, he walks into the place. Most tables are occupied, yet no one pays attention to us.
He tilts his chin in a soft nod and takes a seat at the table. A cloud of spicy cologne drifts to me.
He is clean shaven, and his eyes gleam even brighter in contrast to his raven hair.
His clothes are less sporty than the ones he’s worn this week but not as formal as the suit he was decked out in that night at the restaurant.
Tonight, of all nights, he is more magnetic than ever.
His eyes dip to my food.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“No.”
I tell him about my little trip to the store, how I bought my neighbor a Christmas gift, and, more importantly, why I did that.
“What about you?”
His question takes me by surprise.
“Did she get you anything for Christmas?” he asks.
I laugh dismissively at his crazy suggestion.
“No. Of course not.”
“Can I buy you a Christmas gift?” he asks seriously, and my smile dangles from my lips as I study his face with increased interest.
Occasionally, he can be scary, but that almost never happens when he’s calm, rested, and in a good disposition.
We look at each other like we’d rather get naked and fuck than browse some stores, but I indulge him.
“Do you want to buy me a Christmas gift?”
“Yes. Why not?” he says. “It will be fun.”
I ponder his words.
What could he buy me anyway?
Something for my place? A book? Clothes?
When was the last time I received a Christmas gift from someone close to me?
My mother bought me little things that I collected throughout the years. Things that remind me of her. A unique hairbrush. A special edition of my favorite books.
A necklace with a snowdrop pendant I never wear for fear of losing it.
“Okay. We can do that,” I say in a flirtatious voice.
Maybe that’s what he had in mind when he said we’d do something different. Me and him shopping?
I have a hard time imagining that.
“Shouldn’t I buy you a Christmas gift as well?” I murmur.
“Of course you should,” he says, amused. “But now I’m buying something for you. Ready?” he asks, moving his eyes around the table.
“Yes. Sure. We can go.”