17. ETHAN
17
ETHAN
“Yeah, we’re in Carolina Beach, near Wilmington.”
I’m standing outside our motel room on the phone at three a.m. at some run-down hole-in-the-wall motel on the beach, trying to keep my voice down while Sophia sleeps inside.
The clerk at the front desk didn’t give Mr. and Mrs. Smith too much trouble for not having a photo ID, especially when I showed him a few pictures of Benjamin Franklin.
He was quite accommodating.
Yiva sounds quite awake despite having just been roused from her slumber. She’s a seasoned reporter, accustomed to the unpredictable nature of the job.
“I will only give you what I can confirm. The rest ... well, I trust your instincts to dig for the story. I’ll keep you updated as best I can. I have a guy looking into it as well, so if he brings me more, I’ll let you know.”
Sophia and I preemptively went on the run once I decided to disclose what was happening to the press. If I waited too long, it might have been too late.
I lay out the story as far as I know to this point. I include Lena Gardner’s victimization by Harrison Whitmore and the fact that she is a potential target. She is probably safe until she gives birth, but if Whitmore feels the net closing around him, who knows what he might do?
I detail what I know about my parents’ involvement, although they might manage to avoid any serious consequences. They can always claim that they were only trying to help some poor girl and had no idea what was happening.
Rodney was always a genius when it came to spinning a good yarn.
After hanging up, I pull up a map of the East Coast to try to find where to go next. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of staying here for a few days.
Surely, the people assigned to watching Sophia and me back home will notice we’re gone and draw the proper conclusions, but how can they possibly guess where we’re headed?
Yiva’s story hasn’t even dropped yet, so they’re not even aware we’re preparing to bring them down? They might suspect, but ...
We’ll stay here for a few days, maybe even enjoy the beach, and plan our next steps.
There’ll be plenty of action once Yiva’s report goes viral, then it will be all hands on deck for Whitmore’s men and possibly Pierce’s.
The turmoil caused by the arrest of Jeffrey Epstein had opened the floodgates and showed the perverted power brokers that even they weren’t safe from the long arm of the law.
They know now what lies in store if they’re exposed and are willing to do everything in their power to prevent it.
I wonder who else might get caught up in this? Whitmore was not running some Lolita Island or anything like that. Everything he was doing was on the down-low, but there had to be people who knew about it.
Some people claim to be friends of Whitmore—heads of state and other politicians, corporate CEOs, celebrities. For a recluse, he has quite a circle of admirers.
Which raises another question.
Even if we manage to bring Whitmore down, would we still have a target on our backs? We may not have anything more to say, but some people can be vindictive if they feel we’ve threatened their livelihoods.
For the moment anyway, I feel relatively safe. Maybe tomorrow Sophia and I can live like normal, at least for one day.
I walk into the room and smile as I hear her snoring lightly.
I wonder if what I’m feeling for her in this moment is love?
Maybe. Possibly.
The day dawned bright and clear, and I sit in a lawn chair perched on the second-floor balcony, a cup of awful motel coffee in my hand.
I take the last swallow, heading into the room to see if Sophia is awake yet.
She’s still in bed, but opens one sleepy eye as I step inside.
“Well, good morning, sleepy head,” I say cheerfully.
“What time is it?” she groans.
“Almost ten.”
I had been up since just after dawn, force of habit, and went down to get coffee and a bagel at the shop across the street. Their coffee was much better than the stuff in the motel office. When I needed a refill, I topped it up with the “motor oil” in the office. Figured it was worth a shot. It wasn’t.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I say, sitting on the corner of the bed. Maybe we can stay here a few days and find the safest place to lay low. Might be nice to relax a bit.”
“Are you sure that’s safe,” she asks, sitting up.
“Should be OK, at least for now. It might be the last rest we get for a while.”
She looks at me skeptically. “Well, you’re the boss.”
“Yes, I am,” I reply, crawling into bed beside her.
I have no toys, no plans in mind; it’s just Sophia and me, and that’s enough.
She is naked beneath the sheets, and I can feel the heat emanating from her body. She’s practically a furnace.
I spoon her from behind, nuzzling my nose into the nape of her neck.
She smells musky. It’s incredibly erotic.
I’m surprised when she lets out a small giggle.
“Your beard tickles.”
I guess I haven’t considered that, not having shaven for a few days.
I begin to nibble at her ear, drawing a soft moan, and my hand finds her soft upper thigh, stroking gently with just the tips of my fingers.
Feeling her shudder, I begin running the palms of my hands up her thighs and over her pussy, just barely touching her, leaving her needing more.
I begin kissing her forcefully, pushing my mouth against hers, letting my tongue part her lips and probe the inside of her mouth.
Pausing at her breasts I taste the flesh, making her gasp loudly.
I move lower and my tongue finds the quivering pink flesh of her pussy, lapping at the inner flesh of her labia and teasing her clit with my tongue.
She calls out my name and presses her mound into my face, striving desperately for her climax.
Something seems to roar from within, causing her entire body to shudder. She throws her head back as every muscle in her body tenses up and arches her back, trying to drive my tongue further inside her.
Adding my finger to the equation, I run it up and down against her channel, teasing her clit as she moans and whimpers for me to fuck her.
I quickly jump out of bed and unfasten my jeans, stepping out of them. I then maneuver my fully erect cock into position and tease her by running the tip against her glistening slit.
“Fuck me,” she moans. “Fuck me now, Ethan.”
She reaches out and guides the head to her opening and practically forces me inside her, whimpering as the shaft sinks into her velvety wetness. I begin to move inside her, finding my pace, forcing her to beg me to fuck her harder. “Harder,” she gasps.
I can hardly believe this renewed passion that seems to have come out of nowhere, and I wonder where it’s coming from. This is nothing like our first encounter—not that I have a problem with it.
“What?” I ask, wanting her to beg me for it.
“Harder, please!” she cries, louder this time. She’s now thrusting back against me with abandon, prodding me to increase my pace. “Harder, faster… Ethan, please!” she begs.
I plow into her hard and fast with my thick cock. I can feel every inch of her vagina wrapping firmly around my rock-hard member.
She wraps her legs around my waist, digging her heels into the back of my thighs.
This is almost becoming unbearable.
She grips me more tightly, her pink-painted nails digging painfully into the flesh of my upper back.
She shrieks loudly, and I hope no one is occupying the adjacent rooms. It almost sounds as if her very being is being forced from her body.
We climax together, and I grunt heavily as I come inside her.
She takes a deep breath and relaxes as I gently caress her torso. She gazes into my eyes, and I can see hers are still ablaze with desire.
We might be here for a while.
“How about another round cowboy?”