Requisite Vices (12 page)

My lips part, and the air is cut with my screams of pleasure. Over and over, my screams ring out until the strength from my body drains, and I’m left slumped between the wall and his body, panting heavily in an effort to catch my breath.

He slips from inside of me and picks me up in his arms, holding me close to his chest as he moves to the bed. Laying me down gently, he walks to the bathroom, fetching a dampened wash cloth and towel to clean us up. Once he finishes, he sits on the edge of the bed with his back towards me. I slip my arms under my head, a smile painted against my lips as I watch him sitting in the fading light.

“What is this? Is this a surreptitious relationship with you?” I ask hesitantly.

I’m not sure if I want to know the answer; I’m afraid of what I may hear, but I need to define it somehow.

“I don’t know. It could be. I don’t really know what you’re asking, here. I can’t be anything like your garden variety boyfriend, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

His elbows rest on his knees as he gazes out the window. The light catches his hair, scorching his curls, turning them into a delicate tangle of spun gold and coiled fire.

“I can’t come and spend birthdays with you, or sit by the fire under a decorated tree for Christmas. I can’t commit to a Valentine’s Day dinner, and can’t promise I’ll ever remember important dates. My work is my life; it’s my child.”

“I’m not asking anything like that. I’ve never been good with titles, anyway. I guess what I’m saying is…I don’t really know what I’m asking. I feel like I need some idea of what we are; of what this is, so I know how to treat it. We had this great night together that I haven’t been able to get out of my head, and then it feels like you dropped off the face of the earth. I tried to forget about you…I tried to move on, then got roped back in. I want to know what all of…this…is, and what you expect of me.”

“What do you want me to be? What do you want
us
to be?”

“I don’t know…”

He chuckles and turns towards me, brushing his thumb against my cheek.

“So you wish to know what we are, but don’t know what you want.” He smirks, crawling into bed beside me and wrapping me in his arms.

“Yes, I suppose so. Sounds foolish, I’m sure.”

“Not too foolish. I enjoy the pleasure of your company, and I would love to indulge in it further, however, work tends to get a bit out of hand for me at times and things slip my mind. I am too easily lost in what I do.”

“You simply forget to respond? It takes ten seconds to type a text and hit send.”

He sighs, clearly trying to hide some smidge of annoyance, and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes, and if I’m in a meeting, I’m not going to respond. Once I get out, chances are I’ve gotten other messages, and responding to everyone seems impossible. I won’t pretend to make excuses; I’m just telling you how it happens. I can’t always be around to talk to you and reassure you of my feelings, and regrettably, I can’t always be here to cater to your insatiable appetite, as much as I may want to. I just don’t have that kind of time.”

His words would cut if they weren’t so delicately spoken. It’s like being slapped with a down pillow, or sliced open with a piece of chocolate. It should hurt so much more, but instead, it’s just a dull ache centered somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. It’s just enough to let its presence be known.

“I don’t really want to do this with anyone else…” I murmur, my eyes fixed on an exposed beam in the ceiling.

“Are you even capable of handling that? It seems like it would drive you a bit mad; not getting satisfied as often as you need to be. I’ve had a taste of that appetite, Miss Roman. I know it can’t be satiated on a meal given once every week or two.”

“I’d like to try. I like to think I’m stronger than my urges. You’ve satisfied this part of me; not just physically but more…I don’t quite know how to describe it, honestly. I feel so comfortable with you, and that isn’t something I can say about many others that have come in to my life. I want to see what this is, what it could be, just so I can be certain. And if it doesn’t work, then at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I tried, and can find some kind of closure in that knowledge. Not knowing will do nothing but bore holes in my bones.”

What the hell am I saying? Shut up, Cass! He doesn’t need to know any of this shit…

“Well then, I suppose we can give it a try. I make no promises that you’ll be completely happy with me, but you already know that.”

I bite my lip as I think back to Ethan and his deep, sensual voice. There’s the potential for something there, isn’t there? Am I willing to give up those every changing eyes and the sound of his voice melting against my ear? I guess I’ll just have to see…

“So, how did you know I would be here? Now that you can’t distract me with a kiss…”

“Oh I’m still quite capable of distracting you, but if you must know, it was Riley’s doing. She loves to post pictures and status updates every time you two go out.” He chuckles.

“So you’ve been stalking me via social media?” I laugh.

“Hardly. She’s putting it out there for everyone to see. It’s public. What I saw was no different than what any other random person would see if they stumbled upon her account.”

I open my mouth in protest, but my words fall short as I think back to the times I’ve searched him on the internet, and the many times I’ve visited his webpage just to get some sense of connection again.

He leans toward me and places a soft kiss to my forehead, then slips his arm under my head. His fingers stroke over my arm and leave goose bumps in their wake. Tilting my face toward his, he kisses the tip of my nose.

“You are so easily distracted. You seem to have forgotten something very important, my dear.”

I cuddle close, draping my arm over his bare abdomen and nuzzling my face against his chest. I breathe deep, savoring his scent mixed with the sweet, stimulating fragrance of our lovemaking.

“What might that be?”

He laughs, softly teasing my hair.

“My silly girl, you’ve forgotten all about your guests.”

Chapter 13

By the time I had showere
d
and raced out of Alex’s loft office, the sun was barely visible, slipping behind the horizon as the stars began to illuminate the night. I hop in the car, trying to fix my hair in the best way possible, given the circumstances, and speed back to where I left Riley, Tom, and Ethan. As I pull into the parking space and race up to the door, Tom catches sight of me through the window and jumps up to open the door for me.

He’s always such a gentleman.

I flash him a quick smile as I pass, and he grabs my arm, forcing me to face him.

“Riley was worried.” he hisses, his brows knitting together. “It’s been almost two hours and you weren’t answering your phone. Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Of course it is. I just got caught up and lost track of time.” I stutter.

His eyes do an overly-critical once-over of my body, and he squints skeptically.

“Are you sure? You look a bit…disheveled...”

“I was rushing to get back, that’s all. I’m sorry I kept all of you waiting so long.”

“…is your hair wet?”

I pull politely away from him, smile again, and make my way to the table with Tom at my heels. I pick the chair next to Riley and opposite Ethan, as Tom settles back into his place at the table. Ethan’s eyes are burning into me with the intensity of a southern midsummer day. His emotions are plastered against his eyes; a silent ‘Where on earth were you’ pleading against my heart.

We glance over our menus and Riley and I leave our orders with the men as she grabs my arm, much too tightly, and drags me to the restroom to ‘Powder our noses,’ in her words.

Once the door to the extravagant restroom closes behind us, and Riley peeks under all the stalls to make sure they’re unoccupied, she turns on me like a hellhound that’s clawed its way out from the mouth of the underworld itself. Molten fires are swirling beneath the surface of her eyes, as her words spill from her lips in a near incoherent fashion.

After what feels like a lifetime caught between a wall and a raptor, and the incessant slew of obscenities quells, her body deflates, and the fire in her eyes turns to nothing more than ash.

She slumps against the wall, and sighs heavily. She’s utterly spent, as if she’d run a five mile sprint while holding the combined weight of two full grown men.

I want to explain, to comfort, but I can’t lie to her and I can’t bring myself to break the silence that has so precariously balanced itself between us, as fragile and transparent as a thinly pulled piece of sugar.

“It wasn’t work, was it?”

It wasn’t exactly a question. No, it was more of a complete, irrefutable fact.

“No…”

I didn’t bother to find an excuse, or try to say anything other than no. She would’ve seen right through it, and I would’ve lost more than just her trust. At this point, I’m surprised she is still talking to me at all.

“Who was it?”

“Someone I met a few months back while working.”

“Did you use protection?”

“Riley…”

“Answer me!”

“Of course I did! I’m not an idiot.”

It’s not like we had sex anyway. Well…not at first.

“Sometimes I wonder.” She huffs. “Got it out of your system, then?”

I’m being chastised in the most passive aggressive way possible. Perhaps it’s best to not say anything that may send her teetering off the edge.

The lust in my body wasn’t quelled by my random romp in the loft of Alex. If anything, it only added to the flames which were destined to engulf me and leave a burned, charred husk in their wake, still twitching with the aftermath and yet, craving more.

“Yes…” I answer hesitantly, though I don’t see Alex
ever
being out of my system.

She turns to the sink and splashes cold water on her face, then touches up her make-up to the best of her ability. As she pulls a few stray strands of hair back into place while she stands in front of the mirror, she says those few words that every person hates hearing.

“We will talk about this more when we get home.”

I’m five years old again, being scolded by my mother for talking back and saying ‘No’ in the middle of the store, and I hear those same three words. Though I’m sure a conversation with Riley won’t end up with a belt to my ass and me crying in the corner, I have no doubt I’ll feel just as miserable afterwards.

“For now…” she sighs, then tries on a fresh smile in the mirror to check her new face “let’s try to enjoy the rest of our evening, okay?”

She stares into the mirror for just a second more, puckers her lips to slather on one more coat of lipstick then ushers me back towards the dining area.

She can’t even stand to look at me…

We settle back into the tail end of a conversation between Tom and Ethan about the importance of music in films, then it somehow segues into the age old debate about whether Batman or Superman would win in a fight against one another.

For the record, Batman would win every time.

As their debate intensifies, the waiter — a tall, stringy man with his hair gathered into a neat ponytail — places our plates before us. He then flourishes a bottle of wine, though I haven’t the slightest idea where he pulled it from, and tops off our glasses before rushing off to tend to other customers.

The conversation between the two men dwindles, and Tom refocuses the spotlight on me.

“How did everything work out with you and your client?”

I swallow and glance frantically at Riley. She doesn’t look my way, but I can see the corner of her mouth curve into a roguish grin. She wants to watch me burn.

Both Ethan and Tom are staring, waiting patiently for my response, and with a deep, exasperated breath, I try to plaster an annoyed look on my face.

“It went fine, I suppose. She wanted me to look over a few more things and it clearly couldn’t wait until I got home.” I sigh, rolling my eyes to portray how completely inconvenient my meeting with this ‘client’ was. “She has a tendency to over-exaggerate, and made it seem like life or death circumstances. Otherwise, I would’ve made her wait.”

The grin on Riley’s face wavers, and it’s hard to tell whether she wanted me to get caught in a lie, or is satisfied with the fact that I dug myself out. I clear my throat and casually take a sip from the wine glass in front of me.

“So, did you guys get a chance to explore the area in my absence?”

“Oh!” Riley exclaims.

It’s as if the events of our little bathroom pep talk had been completely forgotten as she to excitedly rambles on about everything she had seen while walking around the city. The words spill from her lips, and I wonder how she manages to speak so much without taking a breath.

She describes the Mercedes-Benz stadium in intricate detail, and then moves on to speak of the street vendors and the street car they had passed. It takes a bit of mental reshuffling to remember that this is her first time here, and though it was only my second, the city had already lost its shine after my first night with Alex Delacroix.

“Cass! The streetcar was so cool! Like, from that one Disney movie! I never thought I’d actually see one in person!”

Her eyes sparkle with the complete, unencumbered joy of a child.

“Sadly,” she pouts, “Tom wouldn’t let me ride it.”

“Darling, it was filled to the brim.” Tom coos gently. “We can ride it another time. I promise.”

He reaches over and squeezes her hand. Riley’s lips crack a smile as she sips at her glass of wine, and launches back into her one sided conversation. Amidst their chatter, my mind wanders back to that tall, slender man with the silver rimmed glasses and curls.

The ride back home is a quiet one. As I’d only had a few sips of wine, I was dubbed the official designated driver for the evening. I don’t mind. After all, I wouldn’t let just anyone drive my car.

As a slow, haunting song spills softly from the speakers, Ethan lazily reaches over and places his hand on mine, which was resting on the stick shift between us. His soft fingers trace over the back of my hand, caressing their way back and forth along each of my fingers. The faint touch sends a chill down my spine and goose bumps erupt along my arm.

I glance in the rearview mirror to see Riley with her head on Toms shoulder, and his head resting upon hers. They’re passed out. I think that third bottle of wine was a bit too much for them to handle, and perhaps, a bit much for my bank account.

Ethan lolls his head to face me, and the shadow of a goofy, alcohol-induced grin slips over his lips. He lifts my hand to his face, and presses his lips against the back of my hand. His lips are like hot fire, burning the very flesh from my bones. His heated breath seeps out from between parted lips, wrapping around my hand and wrist, willing my hand to melt between his fingers so he could drink me in.

“Cass…” he whispers, the low tones in his voice reverberate throughout the car, assaulting my ear drums with the sweet stickiness of warm maple syrup.

“Yes?”

“I know it hasn’t been long since we first met, and I know we’ve only really started talking this past week, but I’d love if we could, you know…”

I keep my lips sealed as I attempt to concentrate on the music and on the barren road before me.

“We could make a long-distance thing work, couldn’t we? I know I move around a lot…”

I try out a fake, but thoroughly convincing, giggle to hide my lack of emotion. He’s incredibly attractive, with a face chiseled from pure marble and a voice which will forever haunt me in my dreams, but the pull toward Delacroix is all-encompassing, and I can’t hurt Ethan like that. No…he’s too good, and I don’t know if I could ever wrench myself from Alex’s web.

“Oh Ethan,” I exclaim, in my best impression of a swooning girl, “I’m flattered! But I think all that wine has gone to your head! Why don’t we talk about it more in the morning, after you’ve had a proper night’s rest?”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied with my statement, and drifts to sleep.

By the time I pull in to the driveway, my car is filled with the sounds of drunken snoring. It takes all my will to rouse the men, and all my strength to assist Tom in carrying Riley into the house while making sure he didn’t topple over as well. I open the door to a very irritated cat, who absolutely refuses to move her rump from the middle of the entryway, forcing us to go around her.

After some very delicate maneuvering, I manage to get the three lushes into the living room, and settle Riley and Tom into the queen sized pull out couch. I fetch two cups of water and Tylenol for their wake up call, and tuck both under a light blanket. I then turn my attention to Ethan, who had attempted to brace himself against the wall, unsuccessfully, as I tended to Tom and Riley. He was now, a crumpled mess on the floor, desperately trying to grab the bannister of the stairs in an attempt to hoist himself to his feet.

“You’re not going to vomit on me, are you?” I ask as I hold my hand out for him to grab.

He manages to crack a smile, then pulls himself up and wraps me in his arms. As he sways unsteadily on his feet, he buries his face in my hair and breathes deep.

“You smell divine.” He slurs.

I lightly pat his back and pull away, letting him hold on to my arms to stabilize his unsteady steps.

“Okay, why don’t we try to get you settled in for bed too, okay? Do you think you can handle the stairs?”

“Mhm.” he groans, as one hand reaches out for the bannister and holds tight. I position myself on the other side, drape his arm over my neck and help him up the best I can, despite the drastic differences in our height. Surprisingly, we reach the second floor without him plummeting head first in the opposite direction.

I lead him to the room, and press him into the bed, with him giggling like a school boy as I struggle to remove his shoes. As I grab a spare pillow and blanket from the closet to make my bed on the floor, he grabs my wrist and pulls me close, causing me to stumble and crash into the edge of the bed.

His mouth presses heatedly against mine; tongue slithering between my lips, wrapping me in a deep, intoxicating, passionate kiss. It’s hard to pull away as his hand reaches behind my head, holding me firm against his molten mouth. My legs weaken and give, and my body aches and throbs from the passion he pours directly into my blood.

The several seconds that encompass the kiss, stretch on for hours in my head. As our lips regretfully pull from one another, he presses his forehead against mine. His breath is hot against my skin as his words drip from his lips; breathy, decadent and oozing with primal lust.

“I want you.” He whispers, the tip of his tongue tracing my lips.

My body shudders; my excitement building as if I had been starved of sexual contact for years, when in truth, it’d been a mere few hours. I struggle against my thoughts, my brain pounding against the confines of my skull as my hips develop a mind of their own and press firmly against the bed, sending yet another aching shock through my system.

I can’t. As much as I want to, I can’t. It feels too much like cheating, though I know in my head, it shouldn’t.