Evan Arden 05 Irrevocable (13 page)

She was with that guy in the sedan.

I know my thoughts are ridiculous, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me.  Of course she was with another guy—probably several.  She was with other guys the last time I picked her up as well.  She could have been with dozens of guys a night when I hadn’t been able to find her.

She’s a hooker.  They’re all hookers.  That’s the way I like them.

Tilting my head down and keeping my eyes closed, I try not to breathe for a moment.

“Evan?”

“What?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

The odor burns into my head, filling me with thoughts of her on her back with some random dude rutting into her.  I don’t know if it’s really the scent of the last john on her skin or not, but I don’t like it at all.  I push away and grab both her hands to lead her into the bathroom.  I turn on the water and remove her clothes quickly.  Alina stands still and silent as I tear the shirt over my head and unbuckle my belt.  I drop my jeans and boxers to the floor as the water from the shower fills the room with steam.

She’s staring at me but doesn’t say a word.  There’s something about the look in her eye that makes me believe she knows exactly what I’m doing and why.  Hell, it probably isn’t the first time a guy’s washed the smell of another man off of her.

The thought is unsettling.

Directing her into the shower, I fill my hands with my own body wash and lather her skin from shoulders to thighs.  The familiar scent of my own soap removes the traces of whatever man or men were left on her skin, and I start to relax.

Alina leans back against the marble shower wall and closes her eyes as I stroke her sides.  I wash her around her breasts then up to her neck and back down again.  Kneeling a little, I run my hands over her legs, stand again, and reach between them.  She moans and grabs onto my shoulders as I finger her.

When I think she’s near the edge, I take my fingers away and turn her around.  She grunts softly as the contact breaks and grips my arms when I circle her waist with them.  The lather flows into the drain as she tilts her head back into the spray.

Alina takes the bottle of shower gel and looks up at me with questioning eyes.  I nod once, and she fills her hands with the soap.  First she runs her hands over my chest, then down my arms and across my stomach.  She reaches around to run her hands over my ass before kneeling in front of me and washing my legs.

Again, she looks up at me with the same questioning expression, and again I nod once.

She takes me in her mouth, and my knees buckle.  She stares up at me even though the water has to be stinging her eyes.  My cock is engulfed in her mouth as she applies suction and draws me into her throat.

“Oh, fuck…”  I have to place my hand on the wall of the shower to keep from falling over.  Maybe the lack of sleep is catching up to me, but it’s more likely the glorious feeling of her warm mouth over my length.

I wrap my fingers through her drenched hair to try to keep my balance.  It isn’t working, and I’m about to lose control.  Slowly stepping back, I watch her eyes as my cock slips from her mouth.

Her hair seems even longer now that it’s wet.  It’s almost touching the floor of the shower.  Her makeup is smeared into dark circles around her bright blue eyes, and her skin is pink from the heat of the water.

She’s beautiful.

I reach down and help her back to her feet before turning the water off and grabbing a couple of towels.  She dries herself a little before wrapping the towel around her body and under her arms.  She touches the side of my face for a moment, rubbing her thumb over the stubble on my cheek.

“You need to lie down,” she says quietly.

I agree and take her hand.  I’m still a little out of breath as we enter the bedroom and climb onto the bed.  We lie on our sides and face each other, and Alina shivers a bit as she pulls the sheet up over us.

I slowly stroke her skin, caressing her from her shoulders to her hips as I kiss her mouth, then her chin, then her neck.  I find her breast with one hand and hold it to me as I suck her nipple into my mouth.  She arches her back as her fingers dig into my scalp.

As tired as I am, I want inside of her.  I want my mark on her.  I want her to go to sleep in my bed, feeling the after-effects of my cock, not someone else’s, inside of her.

Alina moves to her back beneath me as I reach over to the nightstand, grab a condom from the drawer, and roll it over my dick.  She runs her hands over my chest and shoulders as I position myself between her thighs and push forward.  I hold myself there briefly as she reaches around and grasps my ass with both hands.

Like the previous encounter, I move in her slowly.  Each thrust is deep, and I pull nearly all the way out before penetrating her again.  My skin tingles where she touches me.  I lean forward and place my hand at the back of her neck to pull her mouth to mine.

Kissing her with the same rhythm as my strokes, I both feel and hear her groan into my mouth.  I kiss her lips before moving my mouth back to her tits.  Alina tightens her thighs around my ass and moans louder.  I smile at the sound and want to hear more.

Reaching between us, I run two fingers around her clit.  Up and down, around in a circle, then up and down again, I time my strokes perfectly with the motion.  I run my nose up between her breasts and taste the sweat on her neck.

With my lips, I can feel her rapid heartbeat through the skin of her neck.  It matches my own.  Her breath is coming in gasps, and I can feel the heat of it on my cheek.  I continue the slow pace, stroking in and out of her as she begins to writhe beneath me.

I could go on like this forever.  I’m not even sure I want to come.

Alina runs her hands down my back, gripping my ass, and pulling me into her deeper.

“Evan…please…”

I don’t know what she’s asking for.  I can feel her clenching around my cock, and a shooting, tingling feeling rushes over my shaft.  I arch my back, driving into her deeply as she moans with every thrust.  She moves her hands up and digs her fingers into my back as I rotate my hips, pull back, and then slide into her again.

Wrapping her arms up under mine and around my shoulders, Alina pushes up off the mattress and cries out as she tightens around me.  Any ideas of lasting forever leave me as I quicken my pace.  My head swims, and I let go.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I cry out as the waves wash over me.  I collapse on top of her for a moment, trying to catch my breath.  I push away as soon as I’m able, securing the edge of the condom with my fingers as I pull out of her.

I toss the rolled up condom into the nearby trashcan as Alina excuses herself to the bathroom.  She returns a minute later, smelling like lavender, and slips back into bed beside me.  I scoot over to get closer to her, wrap one arm around her waist, and tuck my head against her shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Evan?”

“I’m fine.”  I’m not, but it doesn’t really matter.

“You aren’t falling asleep,” she says.  “You usually fall right to sleep.”

I sigh and glance up at her.  Her expression is soft.

“Just work shit,” I say dismissively.

Alina nods but doesn’t ask for any details.  It’s strange being with a woman who doesn’t ask questions—strange and relieving.

I move forward, and our lips meet.  It’s a soft, gentle kiss.  She rubs her fingers at the spot right behind my ear, and I turn toward her touch.

“That feels good,” I tell her.

“I’m glad you like it.”  She smiles slightly and strokes my cheek with her free hand.

“Get some rest,” she says.  “You look tired.”

I start to respond, but I close my eyes instead.  Her shoulder is more comfortable than the pillow, and her scent lulls me into a dreamless sleep.

*****

For the first time, I wake before Alina.

Surprisingly, I don’t wake with thoughts of some horrific dream in the forefront of my mind.  I’m not covered in sweat or breathing hard, and I actually feel rested.  I take several deep breaths and open my eyes.

Alina is coiled around me, or me around her—it’s hard to tell the difference.  Our legs are intertwined, and my arm is wrapped around her waist and hers around my neck.  We’re sharing a single pillow though there are four on the king-sized bed, and the blankets are pulled up around us both.

I have to take a piss, but I’m too warm and comfortable to seriously consider stepping out onto the hardwood floors.  Instead, I look at Alina.  Her face is relaxed in sleep, and her chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm.  Her thick, dark eyelashes are long enough to be resting against her cheek.  Softly, I run my fingers over the arch of her eyebrow, then down her cheek.  Her skin is soft, and there’s still a hint of lavender on it.

It occurs to me that I don’t know anything about her.  I don’t know where she’s from or why she happened to end up in such a profession.  I know she shares an apartment somewhere with Loretta, but I don’t know where she actually lives.

I remember Bridgett’s apartment.  It was in a dump of a building in one of the worst sections of town.  Considering what I pay for a night, I would think most whores live in better conditions than that, but I don’t really know.

How much of a cut does the pimp take anyway?

Rinaldo has his hands in multiple prostitution rings, but it isn’t an area of the business where my services are needed.  When there’s an issue, the pimps typically deal with it on their own.  I’ve never paid any attention to it.

Maybe I’d check into her pimp.  Considering what area I find her in, her pimp is probably one of Rinaldo’s.  It’s also possible he’s independent.  A lot of Greco’s people went that route when he was run out of town.  Rinaldo didn’t have a problem with it.  There are enough johns to go around, so territory isn’t commonly in dispute.

My bladder feels like it’s going to burst, so I give up and touch my feet to the cold floor.  Wishing I had gotten around to buying some area rugs, I creep off to the bathroom.  When I return, Alina’s eyes are open, and she’s arching her back and stretching her arms above her head, giving me a pretty nice view of her tits and stomach.

“Good morning,” she says with a smile.  “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well, thanks.  You?”

“Very well.”  She sits up and adjusts the sheets over her legs.  “Your bed is great, very comfortable.  I love the pillows, too.  They’re so soft!”

“Yeah, it’s one of the few things I actually pay attention to,” I tell her.  “Military bedding sucks ass.  I go all out with the stuff now.”

“Oh!  You were in the military?  What branch?”

Her tone isn’t right.  It’s a little high for what should be a casual question, and the inflection at the end falls instead of rises.  I have no doubt that she already knows the answer to her question, but I can’t think of why she would pretend not to know.

Regardless, I shouldn’t have brought it up, but it’s too late now.  Answering her will lead to more questions, and I’m feeling too good to delve into all that shit.  However, if I refuse to answer, she’s going to wonder why I’m avoiding the topic and ask again at another time.  Deflection is my best ally.

“Marines,” I say bluntly.  “What sounds good for breakfast?”

“I’m famished,” Alina says.  “I’d be up for anything.”

“Waffles?”

“That sounds wonderful!”

I exit quickly and dig the waffle iron out of the back of a cabinet.  It came with the apartment, and I hadn’t used it before, but I remembered using a waffle iron a lot when I was a kid living in a convent with a bunch of other unadoptable orphans.

I mix up some batter and begin pouring it onto the heated iron.  Though I don’t have a lot of fond memories of my early years, I feel a little nostalgic.  It’s probably just the good night’s sleep preceded by good sex, but I’ll take it.

Alina sits at the table and watches me.

“Can I ask you something, Evan?”

“You can ask,” I reply.  I’m guarded, to say the least.  If she wants a bunch of information regarding my military career, I’m just not prepared to go there.  If she decides to ask about my current career, that would be even worse.

“It’s an observation more than a question, I suppose.”  Her words don’t make me any less wary, but I nod at her to continue anyway.  “You seem like you want a girlfriend.”

I laugh loudly.  Opening the waffle iron, I dislodge the first waffle and set it on an empty plate.

“Hardly.  I’ve been there and done that.  Way too much trouble.”

“Trouble, as in you would have to make breakfast for her in the morning?”

“This”—I point a spatula at the waffle iron—“is not trouble.  This is what I want for breakfast.  Making two of them isn’t any harder than making one, and I don’t have to cut the recipe in half.”

“So what kind of trouble are you avoiding?”

I glance at her sideways.  I’m tempted not to answer at all and let my silence speak for itself, but I have the feeling that won’t work.  It’s better to let her know exactly how I feel about it.

“The kind where the chick asks a lot of questions,” I finally reply.