Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
IN THE SHADOWS
Tonight, the bar is having its annual Halloween Bash.
At first, I was worried I wouldn’t even make it, since everyone was still held up in a meeting about the “Lombardi problem.” Though I don’t care much for parties, I do appreciate being able to conceal my identity from a certain someone at the bar.
At least for a little longer. Cindel is still unsure of exactly who I am, which makes this evening all the more fun.
The Black Sheep is already packed with slutty fairies, pathetic superheroes, and an egregious number of green faces that could be either turtle fighters or swamp ogres.
This wasn’t even half the people wanting to spend their night here, as a line snakes from the entrance of the door to the deli around the corner.
Everyone is in costume, including the staff.
No one pays me any mind as I easily maneuver between dancing bodies to the beat of “Somebody’s Watching Me,” all while looking for my mark.
I wasn’t here for the atmosphere nor to drink, although the music was hilariously on point. No, I came for her.
Two of the songs I’ve sent her so far were more of a warning.
Although I didn’t directly tell her what the message was, I’m hoping her subconscious uses caution, because both the songs, Loser and Creep are about me.
She’s already confused and overwhelmed, but she’s figuring out things faster than I ever anticipated.
I’ll give her everything she could ever possibly need. All in good time.
For now, I was laying out each piece, one by one. It didn’t take long until I finally laid eyes on her. My jaw clamped so tight, I thought I might crack a tooth.
She was mostly covered compared to the other more risqué costumes on the floor.
Cindel expertly balances a tray of toxic green cocktails, garnished with candy gummy worms. I watch as she struts back to the bar top in pinstripe pants, a brimmed fedora, suspenders, and a white dress shirt open so low, I could see the edges of her breasts and the top of her navel.
What the hell was she wearing? Was she some kind of old timey banker?
Her playful smile is a jolt of electricity to my already shortened fuse, finally allowing my jaw to relax, despite my disapproval of wandering eyes on what’s mine.
She pushes back her long brown waves behind her ear, and I see it. The little white earbud. Good girl. Each time I interact with her, she’s wound up wearing it more.
The way the shadows play in the decorated room makes me nearly invisible from my position.
Pulling out my phone, I easily connect to the personal device in her ear; playing her another carefully chosen song.
Radiohead – “Karma Police” begins to play, moving the progress bar along my screen as I watch her expression morph from carefree to attentive.
Her eyes widen as she starts to scan the room.
My face aches with how big my smile is under my cover.
She’s looking for me. It takes her nearly half of the song, but she spots me.
I’m in a far-off corner of the bar, leaning against the wall.
Her eyes become slits. Come to the piper little one.
Dressed the same as the first time I made myself known, tactical gear and all, I’m thankful for the bulky attire.
I could already feel myself growing stiff beneath the thick material of my pants, as she nears, recalling how I buried one of my devices inside her. God, she’s so fucking beautiful.
As she stalks toward me, the rhythm perfectly coincides with her pace.
Like the source music in a movie, she’s aware she plays a part in all of this.
When Cindel finally reaches me, she stops only a few strides away.
Her wordless, assessing stare feels like ropes, wrapping and pulling tighter. I can’t help but drink her in.
Stepping forward, her head falls back, allowing me to appreciate the view from above.
An ivory valley of skin. Too bare for others to see.
The room is alive but there’s stillness between us.
No words needed at this moment. I surely didn’t plan on speaking.
This wasn’t the place for two people to have a conversation anyhow; it's way too loud in here.
How does she tolerate all this noise on a regular basis?
I want… no, I need to be alone with her.
Not wasting a moment, I take her by the hand.
She doesn’t object nor pull away. Cindel comes willingly, just like I knew she would.
I lead her down the small hallway and into the women’s bathroom.
She follows obediently, clenching my gloved hand tightly until we’re within the vacant room.
I lock the door and take my time to fully appreciate the goddess in front of me.
Her buttoned shirt is just barely doing the job of covering her chest. I’m overcome with desire.
Jealous when I realize just how many other men have looked upon her this evening.
My muscles have become rigid. I have a cardinal need to not only shield but protect this woman from anyone who may mean her harm.
Her eyes search mine, although she can’t exactly see them through the rainbow iridium goggles.
As if on cue, she realizes what I’m ogling at. Cindel crosses her arms, blocking the wide valley between her modest breasts. How I’d love to run my tongue between them.
“Why didn’t you answer my question last night?”
My eyes travel back up to her face. Her words are clipped, brow furrowed, and stare narrowed. I reached for my phone, bringing up the conversation I had with her, before turning to show her the screen with our thread of messages.
She looks from my masked face to the screen and back again.
I hold up one finger slowly, then another, finally the third.
“Shit.” She drops her arms from their barricaded position and begins to pace. “Okay, fine! I asked three questions. It’s a new day now! Okay, first question. Were you close with my brother?” Her innocent eyes make it so difficult not to simply give her an answer.
That’s not why I’ve come here tonight. Am I being selfish? Yes, but this girl makes me feel things I never thought possible.
Frustrated by my lack of response, Cindel goes for the lock on the door.
I’m trained faster than most. In one swift motion, I pin her arms behind her back before she even realizes what’s happened.
With one hand, I’m able to hold her tiny wrists, freeing up the other hand to explore my little princess.
Her hat topples to the ground, unable to remain on her head as she tries to look up to me.
A throaty growl reverberates from her, as she wiggles and mutters profanities. Like a wild animal caught in a trap. Unable to resist the initial lure. Her fate is sealed. She never tells me no, so I persist. I sense she’s conflicted… but so am I.
Despite it all, I’ve vigilantly been swimming against a current… focusing on getting what I’ve wanted for far too long. On the outside this may seem wrong but damn the consequences. Fuck what I’m told to do. She belongs to me. Always has… always will.
I tap my boot gently between her inner ankles, indicating I need her feet parted. Like the good girl I know she wants to be for me, she widens her stance.
My lower jaw is sore with the perpetual grin I’ve had since she started searching for me. Once again, I’m thankful for being shielded. Her body doesn’t lie, chest rising and falling so quickly, I’m more than aware I’ve awoken something in her. She grumbles softly yet never protests.
Facing the mirror, she watches with feigned curiosity, as I take a gloved finger into my mouth and pull off the glove in one swift motion.
Much harder of a task with a balaclava on, but I need to feel her flushing skin beneath my touch.
Like someone seeking water in a desert, eager to quench my hunger.
With my ungloved hand, I skate past the useless shirt and take her warm breast within my palm. My fingers move to caress her nipple when I realize she has pasties on. Now that just won’t do.
I release hold of her wrists, then spin her around so that her perfect ass is pressed against the counter instead of my groin.
Her hands find the sink counter behind us; our bodies face one another.
Finally, I press against her. Cindel is so small compared to me, but watching her as long as I have, I know she has the ability to be fierce despite her stature.
Her pupils dilate and I relish the moment when she realizes I’m hard.
I want to drown in those sparkling blue pools of hers.
Impatiently, I unfasten the belt clips of the suspenders, before untucking and pulling the dress shirt from her body.
Her shape is flawless. Perky, natural, just the right amount for my hand.
No fake shit. Huge knocks don’t do it for me.
I’m already envisioning what they would look like when they bounce. How fast can I make them move?
Her chest continues to surge. As rapid as the tempo of the muffled music that plays beyond the walls.
I wonder if she can sense how fast my heartbeat thunders behind my rib cage.
Superior to any marbled Grecian statue, I trace a finger from the notch of her neck, slowly trailing down to just above her waistband.
Cindel’s still, quiet form watches me with such intensity.
It is hard to keep myself from spinning her back around, pulling down her pants, and driving into her. I can’t rush this.
Reaching around her to the faucet, I turn on the cool water and soak my hand. Dripping palm, I cup each breast one at a time, saturating the pasty that keeps her hidden from me. Rogue droplets trickle down her stomach, before disappearing beneath her covered lower half.
I never expected to envy water like this.