Nocturnes (17 page)

Our bodily battle eases as the oral one takes center stage. His hands loosen their grip. I fuck him harder still, biting, pulling, dragging. I feel the struggle bleeding out of him.

With a rough shove, I disengage. His breath rages in my ears, competing with the loud, swirling bubbles for attention. I fumble around for the controls, switch off the jets, and loosen the drain plug. The vortex of spinning water suctions as I smash my lips to his and feast. I tongue the metal rings on either side.
Fuck, fuck, fuck him.
His hips stop thrusting as I absorb his body into mine. I’m gonna devour every bit of him till there’s nothing left but a quivering, gelatinous blob. Once I’m certain I’ve bled his energy, I move in for the kill.

The water level is down to my butt crack, and aside from gasping, he’s no longer moving. Working my thighs, I grind up and down his cock, bouncing on his lap. My wet hair slaps skin like a whip.

“You like that, motherfucker?” I buck and twist my hips. If I have to, I’ll drag another orgasm out of him, kicking and screaming. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have any more cum left for me? I can fuck all day and all night if it takes you that long.”

He straightens suddenly, and I smell his heat on my face. “Is that what you want, bitch? More cum? ’Cause I’ve got at least two more servings for you. Where do you want this dick milk, Eve? Show me where you want it.” My pussy floods at the salacious tenor of his dirty talk.

He yanks the makeshift blindfold from my face and lobs it over the side of the tub. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but they latch onto him the moment I can see again. His smug smile gives me all the reason I need to let go, but I hold on for a bit longer.

Next thing I know, he pulls out. My famished pussy is empty. He slaps his dick on it until leaking water and natural juices splatter between us.

“I want your cum on my ass.” I flip over to hands and knees and hike up my butt.

“My fucking pleasure.” He kneels behind me and spreads my cheeks with one hand. I pit my ass against his dick, moving in slow spirals, taunting him. In seconds, liquid heat hits my hole in a long series of spurts.

He laughs and swipes the head of his dick through the cream. “Lube.”

I start to laugh with him at the allusion to our first night in Hell, but searing pain interrupts, yanking my head backward as he shoves that big cock into my ass with no warning.

“Fuck!” I scream. The mixture of agony and pleasure is too much. My knees wobble, and my chest drops to the bottom of the tub, which is almost empty. Ass up and getting the reaming of a lifetime, all I can do is moan. Pain-tinged tears sprout at the corners of my eyes and mingle with the last of the water.

It’s like he never even came. How does his dick stay hard after two orgasms? The attendants in Hell have nothing on this guy. He’s a fucking jizz machine.

He presses his front into my back and lowers his lips next to my ear. A pair of fingers spread my pussy and dive in while he continues to pound my butt with vicious strokes. I’m on the verge of begging for mercy when he slows to a seductive swing that shifts the sensory tide from torment to heady lust. I swivel my hips to the rhythm he lays down, dancing, rejoicing at finding the partner I’ve lacked for so long.

“You like me fucking your ass, don’t you, Eve?”

Stroking my aching breast, I ride his pole. “Yes,” I whisper. “God, you hurt so good, Rax.” But I know how to hurt too.

I slide a hand behind me and alternate between fondling and squeezing his balls. With each new stroke, his breath hitches, his eyes peering over my shoulder glaze a bit more, and his control slips farther away. I pinch the line between the two fleshy weights, and he mumbles something I don’t understand. When I let go, he puts his hips to work and slaps my cunt with his swinging sac. I shove his fingers aside and concentrate on the cadence. Gotta time this orgasm just right.

Readjusting my stance, I push into him, and spread my ass cheeks to give him an all-access pass. He groans.

“God fucking damn it, Eve. I’m about to hose your asshole with a fucking gallon of cum. You good with that, baby?”

I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm. “Tell me when, and I’ll come with you.”

He squeezes my tits. His balls spank my hungry pussy. My muscles tighten around his meaty cock and then clench like they’re holding on for dear life.

“Now.” The thrusts stop, and his body freezes as he releases into me. With three brutal clit rubs, I free-fall with him. Roughing my pussy until it’s covered in my own juices, I lose my vision. His hooked middle finger joins mine and hits a nuclear power button inside me. He sets off an atomic bomb so potent that it robs me of part of my fucking soul.

Rax’s heavy pants echo off the tile, mirror, and walls, and he collapses on my back with a guttural battle cry. He’s totally limp except for those fingers pumping away inside me like they’ve struck oil and want to stake their claim.

I’m still orgasming.

With his free hand, he withdraws my fingers and licks them while the other continues plunging my pussy, working it into a frenzy.

Still coming. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God…” It’s like I’m stuck in an orgasmic merry-go-round featuring the most intense pleasure a human being can experience without drugs. Hell, maybe it’s even better than drugs, for all I know.

A good thirty seconds later, the climax ebbs, and I fall into a heap beside him. I’m wasted. Thoroughly wasted.

A pair of arms winds around my body, enfolding my cold skin in delectable heat. Rax kicks a leg over mine and covers all my corresponding parts with his.

I’ve been robbed of my senses. Best fucking mugging ever.

“Fucking fuck.” A smile warms his tired voice.

“Yeah.” I laugh. Apparently, there really
is
such a thing as a G-spot. Who knew? I curl an arm around his neck, and he leans over my shoulder.

When I turn my head, his lips subsume mine in a tender, unexpected kiss. It’s like a ray of sunshine in the middle of a downpour, slicing through sinfully alluring darkness and so full of light, it’s almost blinding. When he breaks away, his eyes look different. Softer. Beaten. Broken.

I did that to him. I broke him.

The endorphin high kicks up anew, and a fluttery feeling I haven’t had since Joe Bennett asked me to the prom muddles my stomach.

Rax presses a sweet kiss to my sweaty shoulder and rests his cheek there. Submissive.

I close my eyes. God.

We lie in the tub that way until we fall asleep.

At some point in the night, another damn dream about my father invades my peaceful afterglow. The accident again. He reaches for me, his face a bloody mess. I cry out, scream for him to stay with me, try to help him, but of course, it’s too late. The drunk driver cries on the sidewalk. He has Rax’s face.

Why do these dreams plague me? Why won’t they just leave me alone?

An onslaught of shivers accompanies a few deep inhales intended to calm my inner struggle. It’s getting harder for me to collect myself every time I wake up from these nightmares. And harder to look at Rax, knowing his drinking is probably the source of the dreams and the reason we can’t be more than…this.

But I’ve got him for at least a couple more hours. And he’s mostly sober.

Seeking comfort I never had the option of embracing until now, I stretch in Rax’s arms, brush the wet curls from his handsome face, and whisper, “Let’s go to bed,” in his ear. He rouses, sleep turning him innocent.

Holding hands, leaning on each other, we head for my room and tumble into the covers together. He moves in for a lingering, sweet kiss, and the awful memories of my dying parents bleed away. Safe again.

I sneak a peek at him while our lips play together. From under the half-lowered shades of his lids, he’s staring at me. Heat seeps into my cheeks, and I pull away. My thumb awkwardly fiddles with one of the rings through his bottom lip.

“You’re supposed to shut your eyes when you kiss a girl.” My voice is soft like the rest of me, thanks to Rax.

“I never close my eyes when I’m kissing you. I don’t want to miss a single second.”

My heart flutters. It’s the only reply I’ve got.

He must’ve heard it. Or felt it. He tightens his arms around my middle, pecks my forehead, and settles back into sleep like it’s business as usual at the Belikov residence.

Funny how quickly Rax turned my world upside down. A few weeks ago, the only thing that motivated me was my job. Right now, it’s the only thing holding me back from an impractical dream I
wish
I could live.

Side A: “Ballroom Blitz”

Around 4 a.m., I wake up shaking and covered in a sheen of sweat. Eve’s nestled beside me, her breaths long and even. I don’t want to leave her after all we’ve been through tonight, but if I don’t get some alcohol in my system, my heart’s gonna burst from my chest,
Aliens
style.

I slide my arm out and kiss her neck. Her eyes flutter open.

“I gotta piss,” I lie. She nods, tucks a fist under her chin, and rolls over.

As I crawl out of bed, I stare at the line of her partially exposed spine, her mane fanned over the pillow, her flawless skin. God, I need this woman.

But I need booze more.

Picking through my jeans for my wallet, I swallow hard. I promised her another $500 to be herself with me. She held up her end of the bargain, and now I have to do the same. I lay the money on her dresser, grab the rest of my clothes, and tiptoe out of the bedroom.

After getting dressed, I pause on my way out to pick up the picture of Eve and her parents by the door. She was as pretty as a kid as she is now but happier in her youth. I turn the frame over. The clear backing reveals an inscription: “2002 RIP Mamochka & Papochka.” I wonder how she lost them. Ah, fuck. It’s none of my business.

I set the image back in its place and face the bedroom. Guess this is goodbye. Eve has my number if she wants to call, but I’m not going to pursue her further. She made it clear this was a one-time deal.

Still…my chest aches at the thought of never seeing her again.

Fuck it.

I sneak out and lock the door behind me. It’s probably a couple of miles back to the Quarter. As shaky as I am, I’m not sure I can hoof it, but I start walking anyway. Maybe the fresh air will help clear my head.

A quick consultation with the map feature on my phone tells me there’s a package store on the way home. Unsteady on my feet, I walk through the dark, mostly deserted streets of New Orleans until I land on the liquor store’s stoop. I stare up at the buzzing neon sign.

Another chill passes over my clammy skin. This is my crossroads. My chance to break free. If I turn away and keep walking, it’ll be the first step on a long and difficult path, but the pot of gold at the end of that monochromatic rainbow is the promise of colorful sobriety. Freedom from alcohol’s clutches. The end to reliance on shit that makes me sin.

All this drinking has fucked me up. I know it has.

I glance down at my trembling hands, my jittery legs. Without booze, I’m useless. A total wreck. I can’t function. It’s only been a few hours since my last shot, and already I’m jonesing like my life depends on the next one.

It does. You’re an addict.

Can’t argue there.

But I also can’t afford the hell that awaits me if I choose the straight and narrow.

I push open the door and buy the biggest, cheapest bottle of vodka I can find. As soon as I go outside, I turn the glass up and guzzle several swallows. God, the burn is just what I need. I recap the booze and walk toward the bright lights of the Quarter.

By the time I get to the house, I’m good and buzzed, relaxed enough for sleep, though without Eve, sleep seems empty and pointless.

Get used to it.

I mount the steps, trudge to my room, and tumble into bed fully clothed with my bottle. My only friend.

* * * *

Someone snatches the vodka from my arms, and I flail. Scrambling to sit up, I try to make sense of where I am, but my mind is all over the place. Nothing looks familiar. Gnashing my teeth and furious as fuck, I lash out at the body leaning over me.

“What the fuck, man!” The voice is familiar, but I can’t see straight.

I blindly throw windmills and kick at the sheets twisted like ankle cuffs around my boots. “Give it back. I need it. Give it…”

The figure twists the bottle away and shoves me. “No. You’re done with this shit. Snap out of it.”

A hard slap sears my cheek and knocks some sense into me. My vision clears enough to recognize the thief who stole my liquor.

Goddamn Toombs.

Just the asshole I’ve been itching to exchange a few punches with.

A wave of adrenaline surges and peaks in my veins, and I tackle the motherfucker off the bed to the floor. I still owe him some bruises from the night I tried to make it with Jinx, but I’m thinking a broken bone or two might be even more rewarding.

He’s the reason I drink. He’s why I can’t have a decent relationship with anyone. It’s all his fault.

I straddle Toombs’s hips, yank back my fist, and cut it loose. He catches the punch with one hand and forces my arm down. We’re about the same size, but I’m heavier. I use my weight to maintain control and launch another assault, but he rolls left and scrambles out from under me.

“You fucking asshole,” he growls between clenched teeth. When I come at him again, he throws me back. His next blow lands squarely in the hollow of my cheek, stunning me for a couple seconds. My teeth collide. The bottle rolls out of sight under the bed, and I desperately reach for it. Toombs drags himself on top of me and drops his knees on either side of my waist. Another wallop strikes home, and the taste of iron fills my mouth.

I cough and spit blood at his shirt. “Get the fuck off me, Toombs. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you.”

His pained expression catches me off guard, and I hesitate. Biting his bottom lip, emotional agony staining his expression, he looses another round of blows on me. I absorb each one, limp, defenseless, stripped of all forward motion by that devastating look.