Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3) (10 page)

“Not everyone is like you, you know,” she muttered.

“Baby,” he chuckled, “most of them are. At least at that age.”

Eliza just glared at him, but didn’t say anything. They continued watching the film, but all the time Mitch was just waiting for her to keep going.

“So you were never in love?” she eventually said.

“Honey, if you have questions about guys falling in love, you’re better off talking to Mac about it. He took girls a lot more seriously than I did, even before he hooked up with Vi.”

She muttered something, but he couldn’t tell what, and he dropped it. Sometimes she needed those small victories.

He wished he could’ve told her differently, that the slightly older guy was probably madly in love with her. And he might be, but he was probably madly in love with anyone who had a cup size the same as Eliza’s. Just thinking about her tits was disturbing as fuck, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“Why doesn’t she want to stay the night?” she suddenly asked.

“She has some exercises, or some shit like that, to do in the morning,” he answered. “She smashed her leg a while back.”

“Is it Anna?”

“Fuck. You know her?”

“No, but Vi talked about her. She’d done some ink on her.”

Anna had a dancing ballerina on her upper thigh, a really nice tattoo, and he’d known Vi’d done it, but when Anna was naked he didn’t pay much attention to her tattoo. There were a lot nicer things to look at.

“Okay. Just shut up about it. I don’t think she wants people to know.”

“And what about you?”

He laughed. “Honey, I don’t care if people know or not, but I like seeing her, and I have a hunch I need to shut up about it for her to keep seeing me.”

“You like seeing her?” Eliza said with a knowing smile.

“Don’t go there ‘cause that’s not it, and you don’t want any details on why I want to keep seeing her.”

“Okay.” Eliza leaned over and gave his cheek a kiss. “Love you, you male chauvinist ass.”

-o0o-

The guests stuck around for almost a week, and towards the end of their stay, Mitch had decided he really liked Pico, and that Eagle was as crazy as Bull. Those two got along really well, and Mitch was glad he’d missed most of their private conversations. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what sick, twisted methods they’d shared between themselves. The only discussion he had been privy to was regarding how many coils there was supposed to be in a hangman’s knot. Bull had argued that thirteen was the correct number, while Eagle claimed that was superstitious bollocks, anything over eight was fine as long as the person you were hanging wasn’t too big. Mitch had left them alone after that.

“Whatta you think?” Mac asked as he dropped down next to him in the couch.

“About what?”

“Fuck!” Mac shrugged. “Take a pick. Going into business with some Europeans, someone trying to hack us, Wrench as a prospect… All of the above?”

Wrench had been suggested as the next prospect, and Mitch had thought it was a good choice. Wrench was definitely the one he liked best among the current hang-arounds.

“I don’t know, but I think Wrench is good. A bit cold, but not in a creepy Bull kind of way. He’d get the job done.”

“That’s what I think,” Mac agreed. “Was a bit surprised that Dawg said he’d sponsor him. I thought Sisco would.”

Mitch had thought the same thing. Wrench and Sisco had gotten pretty close the last few months, but apparently Dawg had kept an eye on him as well, and Dawg had a good eye when it came to judging people. He’d apparently seen something in Wrench that he liked. They hadn’t voted yet, though; there were some things Brick and Bear wanted to do first, and when Mitch saw his dad walking over to Wrench with a bottle of tequila, he assumed it was the ‘get the fucker drunk as fuck and make him talk’ test coming up.

“Think he’ll do fine,” Mitch said and looked around and found Mech staring at one of the strippers, which was unusual, but it also reminded him of something he’d been meaning to mention to him. “I just thought about something. I need to talk to Mech. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Need a night by the river soon,” Mac grumbled. When Mitch looked at him with a raised eyebrow, Mac sighed. “It’s Vi. The fucking hormones make her cry all the damn time. She cried about a puppy who stumbled outside a shop yesterday. I just need to spend a night with someone who isn’t bawling.”

“Next week,” Mitch agreed and walked over too Mech and sat down next to him instead. “What would Lynn say about you ogling tits?”

“She knows I’m a man, and all men are slaves to boobs. The unconquerable desire to eye the amorous sources of the unmerciful attraction every man feels.”

Mitch looked at the girl who was definitely showing off her impressively-sized tits to Mech. “Yup, doomed to forever hankering the swelled fleshy spires dangled in front of us,” he chuckled, which made Mech laugh and continue.

“Chained down by the hypnotizing black arts coming from the female cones.”

“Cursed to forever dream of the swelling sweetness adorning the female bosoms.”

“What
the fuck
are you two talking about?” Bull almost roared.

“Boobs,” Mitch and Mech answered in unison.

“Fucking hell, you two aren’t right in the head.”

Mitch just laughed and turned towards Mech. “What does the security look like now? Think the alarms and firewalls we have are enough? Just thought we could do a setup at our houses, so we don’t have to come here every time that ass makes a feeble attempt.”

Mech sat still and continued to stare at the swelling sweetness in front of him while he was thinking. Mitch had learned early on that it was best to just let Mech process things at his own speed. It might look as if he was slow, but he was just going through every possible scenario, and his imagination for scenarios was impressive. His brain worked like a fucking computer, and Mitch’d learned to trust whatever Mech concluded. He was rarely wrong.

As many hackers and hacktivists, Mitch’s interest had started on 4chan, a place mostly for posting pictures. It was basically pictures and comments sorted into separate forums based on what topic it could be considered. There were a lot of things he liked about it, but especially that it was anonymous.

Among all those boards was one called the ‘/b/ board,’ the ‘anything goes’ board, and its main purpose was to post stuff in the category ‘no eye or brain bleach in the world can make you forget this.’ Most of the pictures posted there were posted to make sure people never came back. Mitch’d fucking loved it!

The main reason he’d liked 4chan, and especially the /b/ board, was that it was the opposite of what Facebook later turned into. It was honest, crude, and brutal. No one ever tried to show themselves off as the perfect person with the perfect family who always did cute and funny things with their kids. Also, nothing was ever archived on 4chan. A thread could explode and go on forever, or it died and disappeared. That was where memes evolved and came from, like lolcats—all of it started in the petri dish that was 4chan.

It was also where Anonymous came from, but before it turned into hacktivism it was all about creating Lulz—laughs.

Mitch’s all time favorite prank was when they fucked with an online thing for kids, like an early version of Second Life. They all signed up for it, using the exact same avatar—a black guy with an afro and a suit—and took over the place. Like swarming an area to stop people from getting through, or to form swastikas with their avatars. The best joke was when they blocked the entrance to an online pool with all their avatars who looked exactly the same. The expression ‘Pool’s closed’ had turned into a label for a successfully executed hack or prank after that.

Then it turned into hacktivism and fucking with the man. ‘The Man’ being anyone who wanted to limit the online information flow in any way. Around the time Anonymous went after a neo-Nazi blogger and radio show host, Mech was on to Mitch, and warned Brick about his hacking activities. That’s when Brick handed him over to Mech to make sure he was taught properly. He’d really thought he knew a lot about hacking before that, but he’d been dead wrong.

Mech’s online handle, Blue Knight, was one that Mitch’d heard of long before he knew it was him. He was a legend, no longer officially active as a hacker, but he was still talked about. Mainly since he’d managed to hack into pretty much every .mil server in the US, and the .mil servers, the ones belonging to the US military, had a special status among hackers. When it came out that Blue Knight had hacked the hq.af.mil server, his status as a member of the absolute elite had been solidified. It was the server belonging to the US Air Force’s headquarters, which was one of the units in charge of the cyber warfare. He hadn’t done it to steal information or destroy anything, real hackers rarely did, but just to see if it could be done. Unofficially, Mech and him were still doing some stuff for fun. Mainly helping out, since they were both still convinced that anyone trying to limit the web deserved to be fucked with.

The thing Mitch liked most about Mech was that he never showed off, never even tried, and he was good a making other people understand. For example, Mech had described the hacking attempt on them to the other members as trying to anally fuck someone with a flaccid dick and without lube, which had made everyone understand just how stupid it was.

“I think it could be done,” Mech mumbled. “I’m just trying to figure out how we can do it without opening another port for him to mess with.”

“What if we turn that into the honeypot?” Mitch asked.

Mech smiled. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. Think Lynn would appreciate me spending more time at home.”

“Even if it’s in front of the computer?” Mitch asked with a laugh.

“That’s where I am most of the time anyway, and she doesn’t give a fuck what I do while I’m at it. Let’s have a look at it tomorrow,” Mech said and stood up. “I’m gonna go home and see if I can catch Stella’s boyfriend.”

Mech had two kids, Dennis, who was the same age as Violet, and Stella who’d turned eighteen earlier that year. And now she had a boyfriend. She’d tried to argue that he should be allowed to stay the night at Mech’s house since she was of age, and Mech had said he was perfectly welcome but shouldn’t expect to leave in the morning with his dick intact. The boyfriend had still had the guts to sneak in a few nights, and now Mech was staying awake at night to see if he could catch him.

“Sure. I’m going home, too.”

Mech just gave him a curious eye, but didn’t ask any questions.

Once he was outside, and Mech had left, he picked up the phone and called Anna. He was hoping he’d be able to get her to stay the night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

You’re a Hogger

-o0o-

We’d seen each once or twice a week since that first time. I sent him a text if Irina was away, and if he could he came by. He’d called a couple of times as well, and those times I took a cab to his place, and then another one back home a few hours later. This time I’d gone to his place.

I had fallen asleep, and when I woke up, I was alone in the bed. I got up and collected my clothes and took my cane from the glass railing. When I took it, I could see right outside to the terrace and that was where he was, lying on the couch, smoking. It was warm for being November, but not
that
warm. I went downstairs and outside.

“Hey, babe,” he smiled when he saw me. “Was kinda hoping you wouldn’t wake up.”

“You know I can’t stay,” I said and sat down in one of the armchairs.

He hadn’t nagged but had still made it very clear that he’d like me to stay. I honestly wasn’t sure why I kept refusing, but I still felt uncomfortable with it.

“Come here.” He reached for me and pulled me down on top of him. “What exactly do you do?”

“I massage and stretch. Then there are some other things to strengthen the muscles to compensate for paralyzed areas.”

“There are areas that are paralyzed?”

“It’s… hard to explain, but yes. But it’s also to stop my leg from withering away.”

He hugged me tighter. “What if I help with the massage and the stretching, and I’ll throw in some morning sex for exercise as well? I’ll even make a huge breakfast for you. I know you like those.”

That was pretty appealing, and he usually stayed the night when we were at my place, but he left not long after we woke up. Probably because I basically pushed him out the door, but it would be nice to try to get used to him seeing it. He’d been really okay with the leg so far, and never seemed grossed out by what it looked like.

“Planning on staying out here?” I asked in an attempt to gain some time before I had to answer, and I looked at him. “Because that’s not going to happen.”

“Nah,” he answered with a laugh. He pointed up. “Like lying here and watching that while smoking some pot.”

I looked up, and it was a beautiful, starlit night.

“I never smoked pot,” I mumbled.

“Really?”

“I smoked regular smokes, but I quit a few years ago. I stayed away from drugs, though. Didn’t drink much either.”

“Wanna try?” he said and held the joint in front of me.

“No.” I knew most of these guys smoked pot like others smoked cigarettes, I just didn’t want to. I was prepared for him to ask me why not, but he didn’t. Just shrugged and put it to his own lips. “Okay. I’ll stay. I need to text Irina, so she knows I’m okay, and then I’ll come up to bed.”

“Let’s go now, I bet you left your phone on the nightstand.” He sat up and grabbed my cane, and he was right. I’d forgotten the phone just as I always did. He usually had to run up and get it for me before I left. “Get up on my back.”

“Why?”

“Wanna try something.”

I stood and jumped up on his back. He reached behind and took a firm grip of my ass and hauled me higher up.

“Starting to see how those guys can toss around ballerinas all the time. You don’t weigh anything.”

“And I weigh more now than I ever have.”

“You look fine.”

“I know,” I said and laughed. “But thank you. I have boobs and curves now. When I danced I didn’t have any body fat at all. It’s not very flattering, so I’m quite fond of this.”

He carried me up the stairs and helped me off with my clothes. I texted Irina while he got undressed before following me into the bed. I turned around and pulled the cover around me.

“I only have one cover, so you’re gonna have to play nice,” Mitch muttered and pulled some of the cover off me. “You never told me about breakfast.”

“What about breakfast? What I want for breakfast?”

“No, you said you used to only eat a grapefruit.”

That’s when I understood what he meant. I’d mentioned that after the first night when he commenting about me really liking my breakfast.

“Actually, I was more eager to get you away since I was in a lot of pain.”

“Aha, sneaky girl.”

“But I do like breakfast now. I couldn’t eat much before dancing. I had a light breakfast, light lunch, and then ate late at night, after performance if I had one.”

He turned me around. “How many hours were you working each day?”

“Class and training started at 10:30, twelve to six were rehearsals, and a few hours of performance at night.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, all those things came back to me, and clearly recalled the feeling of walking through the corridors with the coffee in my hand and bag over my shoulder. Or sitting on the floor, warming up my feet while laughing and talking to the other dancers. Then warming up the rest of my body, stretching, and finally at night doing the makeup for the performance. I turned around again and tried to take deep breaths.

“I’m tired,” I mumbled. “Good night.”

“Night.”

-o0o-

I woke up the next morning by Mitch kissing my shoulder and neck.

“So how do you start?”

“Massage me,” I mumbled when the cramp took hold of my leg as soon as I tried to sit up. I grabbed the leg and started with the back of my thigh. “You can do the lower leg.”

I didn’t mind at all that he was helping me at the moment. It seemed like a much bigger thing when I wasn’t actually mid morning cramps, but for now I was glad for any help I could get.

He started, but it wasn’t doing much, so I looked at him.

“Harder.
Much
harder.”

“Okay,” he chuckled.

We continued in silence, but when I lay back, he stopped and looked at me. I held up the leg and started on the back of my thigh while slowly pushing it against my body.

“Massage and push,” I said, and he did as I’d asked without questioning.

“Jesus, how far can you get your leg?” he asked when the leg was getting closer to my shoulder.

“It’s going all the way. Keep massaging.”

The cramps started to subside a few minutes later, and I indicated for him to let go and sat up, starting to stretch that way instead. When I started to relax, I finally looked at him again.

“You weren’t lying,” he smiled when he noticed my eyes on him. “You are a hogger.”

“Sorry, but I did warn you.”

“You did. Still think you need to do something to make it up to me when you’re done.”

I thought about it, and decided I could do some more workout when I got home, and that I could be done for now. So I laughed and pushed him over to his back. Straddling his legs, I looked down at him. I drew my hands over his tattoos and through the hair on his chest before leaning down and giving him a kiss.

“I think you’re cheating with the exercise,” he whispered against my lips. “Not sure if I should scold you for it to make sure you don’t use that as an excuse to not stay here, or just roll with it.”

“I can do the rest while you make me that big breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’m going to make sure you do.”

He smiled when I rose up and moved further down to lick his nipples. By the time I reached his dick, he was hard, and I grabbed the root of it and took as much in my mouth as I could.

“Fuck, Anna,” he groaned and put his hand on the back of my head.

I kept it up, and I liked it. I liked feeling him throbbing inside my mouth, his hand flexing around my neck, and the moans when I squeezed my hand harder or ran my tongue around his glans.

“Babe!” he said and his grip around my neck got harder as he tried to pull me off. “If you want some, you need to stop.”

I sat up and reached for the condoms he kept in the nightstand. “I want some.”

“Of course you do.” He flipped us around and took the condom from my hand. “Like that about you, you always want some.”

He was right; I was a pretty easy lay, and I knew it. I didn’t care much, though. We were very much in agreement about this, and it was good, not complicated at all, and he was fun. We had a lot of fun. He’d also gone out of his way to keep me comfortable at all times. It never felt weird, and I assumed what Lisa had said about him getting a lot of practice wasn’t just about technique, but also how to handle booty calls in a smooth way.

When I felt him teasing my opening with the tip of his dick, I smiled and he chuckled.

“Always want some.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “And you make it so easy to get some.”

He pushed inside, lay down on top of me, and kissed me. His hand rested on my cheek, and I opened my eyes and met his.

“When it’s this good, I don’t fight it.” His other hand went down to the back of my knee, and he pushed the leg up to the front of his upper arm, and his hand was on my behind. “God damn, gotta love that morning stretching if this is what it does.”

I grabbed his cheeks and kissed him to make him stop talking. Talking seemed to work him up, and I didn’t want him to be done too soon. I felt him smiling, and his other hand went down to rest next to his other on my ass, squeezing hard.

He’d been touching my bad leg more and more, stroking the scars, and I was starting to be pretty okay with it, which was probably why I’d been fine with him helping me with the massage. It hadn’t felt strange or like something I should be uncomfortable with.

I wrapped my free leg around his waist and continued kissing him, my arms around his neck, and kept it up until I felt myself getting closer.

“Don’t stop,” I moaned into his ear.

“Fuck! Give me a sec,” he groaned after a while, let go of my leg, and moved us around so I was on top. “Like watching you.”

I knew he wouldn’t be able to take it easy for long in this position, he never did, and as suspected he soon sat up, arms around me, and managed to fuck me from underneath. I came, hugging him hard and with my face pressed against his neck.

“Babe, fuck! So good!” His hand went up to my hair and he fisted it, holding me tightly against him. “Shit!”

He hugged me, and then I felt him coming as well. Afterwards, we both sat still, just holding each other.

“Did I make it up to you?” I finally mumbled.

“Oh, yes,” he chuckled and leaned back to look at me. “You can hog my cover whenever you want, baby. Want some breakfast?”

“Sure,” I said and rose to get off him. “No grapefruit.”

I followed him downstairs, and I sat on the countertop, doing my leg exercises while he made me breakfast. It actually worked pretty well, and him blabbing during it all made it more fun. I might not have been as focused as I usually was, but on the other hand I’d been doing them for a long time, so it didn’t require much brain activity to do them anymore.

“What do you know about Russian Oligarchs?” he asked out of nowhere.

“Probably not much more than the average American,” I said and continued to lift my leg in a straight line. That particular movement tended to tease the sciatic nerve, which meant it hurt a little, so I closed my eyes, but kept talking. “Mom probably knows more.”

When he dropped the bacon in the frying pan, my stomach grumbled, and he laughed.

“So no inside information about Russia, then?”

“I know a lot about it during the revolution, or… both of them, actually. Some about the time after both of them, too. My dad’s family left Russia in 1922 when the Bolsheviks went after religion, and Mom once the Iron Wall fell. There was a lot going on around that time, of course, but she doesn’t talk about it much. If she talks it’s about the ballet, but I’m guessing that’s not your major interest.”

“No,” he answered with a smile and gave me a kiss. “How do you like your bacon?”

“
Very
crispy, and then lying on paper for a while. That makes them even more crispy.”

“The girl has good bacon taste.” He let go of me and moved back to the stove. “What would you say that the average American knows about Russian Oligarchs, then?”

To some, the Russians seemed very exotic, but besides asking me to say something in Russian when we met outside the sex shop, he’d never mentioned it. Either way, I couldn’t be called more than a half Russian, and although I’d been there a few times, I would never be considered a native to the people there. We’d kept up with some of the traditions and the language, but that was about it. It was actually not Mom who’d been the firmest about it, either; it was Irina and Dad who tried to maintain that part of our heritage. I assumed it had to do with Mom never having seen the culture and traditions in the same romantic light as Dad and Irina. She’d always spoken Russian with me when I was a child, though, but these days it was mostly English.

I sighed and tried to remember what he’d asked me. What the average American knew about oligarchs, and then remembered what Mom used to call them the few times she’d mentioned them.

“Vory v kostymukah.”