Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3)

by Devon Hartford

  “That’s what Christos said!” I smiled.

  Nikolos nodded proudly.

  We eventually made it to the parking garage where my VW was parked. Nikolos gently lowered Christos into the back seat, then the rest of us climbed in.

  After dropping Spiridon off at Christos’ Camaro, I took Nikolos to where Spiridon’s car was parked in another garage. He pulled Christos out of the back seat of my VW and put him in the front seat for me. There was no way I could’ve done it myself. Nikolos moved Christos like he didn’t weigh a thing. He was pretty damn strong.

  “Thanks for everything,” I said as I hugged Nikolos.

  “I can tell, Samantha,” Nikolos said as he patted my back, “you’re a good girl. I’m glad my son met you. I’m just sorry it was that idiot Horst Grossman who brought you together.”

  “Oh, I don’t care,” I laughed. “That guy was a jerk and now we can forget about him. But if he hadn’t been such an ass master in the first place, I never would’ve met your son.”

  “Ass master?” Nikolos chuckled. “In the old days, when I was young, I would’ve called him a fucking asshole and left it at that.”

  I shrugged. “But that sounds like any random asshole. Horst Grossman was like the master of all assholes. He’s the one who gives all the orders,” I grinned.

  “I like how you think,” Nikolos laughed. “Do you need me to follow you back to my father’s house to help get Christos out of the car?”

  “I think I can manage. If not, he can sleep in the car.”

  “Spiridon has a wheelbarrow in the garage if you need one. Well, good night, Samantha. I look forward to seeing your art sometime soon.”

  “Me too!” I smiled. I waved as he got into Spiridon’s car and drove away.

  I hoped that Nikolos would come by the house for a visit at some point. He seemed really nice. I don’t know why Christos never spent any time with him. Based on the way Christos had talked about his dad in the past, I’d imagined Nikolos would be some rundown drunk. That’s not what he seemed like tonight. He seemed healthy and was definitely sober. Christos had been the one doing all the drinking.

  Maybe Christos and his dad would start spending more time together. I’m sure it would be good for both of them.

  Despite all of the day’s drama, I felt like things were starting to look up for me and Christos.

  Finally.

  ===

  My good mood took a nose dive when my phone rang on the drive home.

  My parents were calling.

  There was no way I was going to answer them right now. I couldn’t deal with one more drop of drama tonight. After our last call, I could only imagine the nastiness they would slam me with if I answered.

  I let it go to voicemail. I’d deal with them later. Maybe tomorrow.

  Maybe never.

  Maybe if I never called them back, my parents would slowly forget they ever had a daughter. I could hope.

  So, so, so, SO GROAN!!!

  I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the road as I drove toward home.

  Home. To my new house where I lived with Christos. Swoon. The drunk guy slumped against the door of my VW. Sigh. Oh well, nothing was perfect. So what if he was drunk? It was better than him being in jail.

  Besides, I’d been drunk plenty of times in high school as an outcast teenager. Sometimes things got so bad, it was the only thing I knew how to do to block out the pain and rejection when I was alone. Sometimes, not even ice cream was enough. But my drinking hadn’t turned me into an alcoholic. I’m sure Christos would be fine. If his drinking somehow became a problem, I’d be around to help. I wouldn’t let him throw his life away. We’d find a way through whatever obstacles life put in front of us. Together.

  Spiridon was already back at the house when I pulled into the driveway. He helped Christos out of the car with ease and didn’t need a wheelbarrow. All the Manos men were very strong physically. I didn’t know how old Spiridon was, but he had to be at least sixty. He pulled Christos out of the car like he didn’t weigh a thing. I couldn’t have done it without a forklift.

  Spiridon walked Christos upstairs and lowered him onto the bed.

  “I can take it from here,” I said.

  “Okay. I feel like some tea. I’m going to go make some. You can join me if you’d like.”

  “All right.”

  Spiridon smiled, “It’s so good to have you living with us, Samoula. It was far too quiet with only my grandson around. It’s nice to have more family in the house.”

  My heart warmed at his words. “Thank you, Spiridon.” The implication that I was family brought tears to my eyes. I’d known him for all of five months and I felt completely at ease around him. Maybe he could adopt me officially. Oh wait, wouldn’t that make me Christos’ sister? No, that would only be if Nikolos adopted me. If Spiridon adopted me, that would make me Christos’ aunt. Not gonna work.

  “What’s so funny?” Spiridon asked.

  “Nothing,” I smiled. “Just random thoughts. Let me take care of Christos and I’ll join you downstairs.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  I hung my blazer in the closet and slipped off my heels. Then I slid Christos’ dress shoes off. He was still in his suit, which was now quite rumpled. He’d been truly dashing in the courtroom. Now his rumpled face looked like it could use a press as badly as his suit. I loosened his tie and opened his collar. He moaned sleepily, but didn’t seem interested in opening his eyes.

  “You’re completely at my mercy, Christos. Think of all the things I could do to you. Draw a mustache with a marker?” No, that reminded me of Tiffany’s yacht and her painting. “Shave your head?” Why would I want to get rid of that perfect hair of his? I wouldn’t be able to run my hands through it. “Oh, forget it. How about I give you a striptease then let you have your way with me?”

  Yeah, that sounded like what the doctor ordered.

  Christos moaned sleepily. He didn’t seem to agree.

  “How about I let you sleep?”

  Silence.

  I wasn’t sure how drunk Christos was, but I didn’t want to risk him choking on his own puke. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto his side, just in case. I had to really put my body into it, he was so heavy. I had a good sweat going by the time I finished. Who knew all that muscle could weigh so much?

  I blew a wisp of hair out of my face when I was finished. “Sleep tight, agápi mou. I’ll be downstairs.”

  As I walked toward the bedroom door, I remembered my parents’ recent phone call. I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at it. They had left me a voicemail.

  The phone that had kept Christos out of jail was now the phone threatening to put me in a different kind of jail.

  Screw my mom and dad.

  They could wait.

  I dropped my phone in my purse with a scowl and left the room.

  Screw them.

  Chapter 10

  SAMANTHA

  I left Christos to sleep off his drunk.

  Spiridon poured me a cup of tea in the kitchen and we made our way into the living room.

  As tired as I was, all the stress of the past several days had my thoughts bouncing around inside my skull like a thousand ping pong balls. I needed to unwind.

  I stretched out on the couch while Spiridon sat down across from me in his leather easy chair. He told me stories about his art career for hours.

  The living room was the perfect location because Spiridon’s glorious landscape paintings hung all around us. They set the perfect mood as he wowed me with tales from his life as a world famous painter. He recalled all the celebrities he had met, the countries he had visited, and the awards he had won in the course of his illustrious career.

  Spiridon had lived an amazing life I couldn’t help but envy. Art was in his blood. As was success. Art and success were also in the blood of his son Nikolos and his grandson Christos. The Manos family was truly blessed.

  The Smith family hadn’t
been nearly so lucky. Oh well. Even if my upbringing had been bland and mediocre by comparison, at least now I got to be around the Manos family. Maybe I could absorb some of their good luck. I was still young. There was still time for my life to turn out awesome too.

  Close to midnight, Christos clomped downstairs into the living room and collapsed on the couch next to me. He still wore his shirt and tie and his slacks. Even with his hair a mess, he looked ready for the cover of GQ.

  “He’s risen from the dead,” Spiridon chuckled from where he sat in his leather chair.

  Christos clutched his hair in both hands. “I feel like someone has driven a spike through my head. I think I’m still buzzed. How much did I drink?”

  “You probably need some water,” I suggested. Experience had taught me that water was a hangover’s worst enemy.

  Christos groaned, “I think I got dehydrated during court today. I was too stressed about everything else to think about water. Those bourbons at dinner went straight to my brain.”

  “I’ll get you some water,” Spiridon said as he stood up.

  “I can do it,” I said.

  “No, you sit with my grandson.” He smiled as he walked out of the living room.

  “Christos, did you puke on the bed?” I asked.

  He chuckled and snuggled up against me on the couch. “No. Like I said, I didn’t drink that much. I think it was the dehydration. I was loopy after three drinks. That never happens. I’ll be better after I get some water.”

  Spiridon returned with a huge glass.

  “Thanks, Pappoús,” Christos said. He gulped down the entire glass in several long swallows. “Let’s see if it stays down,” he winked then set the glass on the coffee table. “Can I use your blouse as a bib if I spit up?”

  “Eww!” I giggled. “That’s disgusting, Christos!”

  He chuckled as he nuzzled his nose against my neck. “Gack!” he grunted, pretending to puke.

  “Stop!” I laughed.

  “I think I’ll be heading to bed,” Spiridon smiled, standing up. “It’s been a long day and I think you two need some time alone.”

  “Good night, Pappoús,” Christos said.

  “Good night, paidí mou,” Spiridon said as he rubbed Christos’ shoulder. “And good night to you to, koritsáki mou,” he said to me as he leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

  My parents never did that. I would’ve flinched if they did. But it felt completely normal when Spiridon did it. “Good night,” I smiled.

  “See you at breakfast. I think I’ll make French toast in the morning.” He considered thoughtfully. “Yes, I’m in the mood for French toast. Sound good to you two?”

  “I have class,” I sighed, “I don’t know if I’ll have time.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Spiridon said.

  “Oh, duh!” I had been so caught up in the stress of the day, more like the stress of the last two weeks, I’d lost track of what day it was.

  “See you two in the morning,” Spiridon said as he walked upstairs.

  Christos rubbed his nose across my cheek. “Mmmm. I missed you, agápi mou.” His hand slid across my stomach and hooked around my waist. He pulled me into him as his hot tongue slid into my ear.

  “Christos! Your grandfather’s like ten feet away!”

  “He doesn’t care,” he murmured.

  “I do!”

  “Then let’s go outside.”

  “What?”

  “There’s plenty of comfortable lounge chairs out there. I’ll get some blankets.”

  “I don’t know, Christos. It’s late. And you’re tired. I’m tired, now that I think of it.”

  He lifted his head up and looked me in the eyes with his amazing blues. “You sure?”

  Who was I kidding? Christos was the most amazingly handsome man I’d met in my entire life. He was breathtakingly beautiful. My heart accelerated and my body temperature spiked several degrees just looking into his eyes.

  “We can go to sleep if you want,” he said.

  “Ahhh, maybe we can stay up for a little while?”

  His dimpled grin widened over his beautiful white teeth. His lips looked so soft and I really needed to lick them. But his grandfather was upstairs and it was a straight shot from the living room to Spiridon’s bedroom. I didn’t want him to hear us. “Outside is good,” I grinned.

  Christos drank another huge glass of water in the kitchen before grabbing blankets from a closet.

  We went out onto the deck together.

  The sky was almost totally clear, a black velvet blanket overhead. A few scattered clouds drifted lazily past the glowing moon. Christos led me to a circle of chaise loungers on the far side of the swimming pool that had a great view of the dark ocean. Distant waves crashed in a silver drizzle against the shore.

  Christos whipped a blanket out and it billowed down on a lounger built for two. We crawled on top and he spread the other blanket over us. It was almost warm enough without the top blanket, but it wouldn’t be as cozy without it.

  We snuggled together, our arms and legs entwined. There was no way I could imagine cuddling under the stars in Washington D.C. in February. Not without a winter sleeping bag, long johns, wool cap, and mittens.

  “Exciting day,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Christos chuckled. “Who knew my girlfriend could make Sherlock Holmes look incompetent.”

  “Thanks,” I grinned. “You know, it’s still Valentine’s Day.”

  “That’s right. Happy Valentine’s Day, agápi mou.”

  Snuggled under the blankets together, I felt unbelievably peaceful in his arms. All the troubles of the world were far away. Whatever they might have been, they were no concern of mine.

  I realized that Christos was gently stroking the side of my cheek with his hand. Swirling energy flowed out from his fingers across my face, relaxing away my remaining tension.

  His thumb slid across my lower lip, tugging gently against it. I moaned softly.

  “You never got your Valentine’s Day kiss, agápi mou,” he murmured.

  I remembered all the flowers and candles and chocolates he’d given me the day before. And the love making that had followed, him inside me, inside my mouth. And how all my stuff was moved into the house the next day. I was living with my boyfriend! Woo hoo!

  Over the last few months, I had experienced so many firsts with the most perfect man in the world. Christos never ceased to amaze me. He brought so much joy and excitement into my life. I was the luckiest girl in the world.

  “I love you, Christos,” I sighed. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

  “If it’s even close to how much I love you, agápi mou, I have a pretty good idea.”

  My heart still melted every time he told me that, every time he called me agápi mou.

  “My heart is yours, agápi mou,” he murmured. “It always will be, and I believe it always was. I just had to endure the torture of waiting for you to finally show up in my life. It was a long wait,” he grinned. “But now that you’re here, I can’t imagine life without you. Without us.” There was a vulnerability in his eyes that warmed my heart.

  “Oh, Christos,” I sighed.

  He leaned toward me, his lower lip brushing across my upper. That slight contact was enough to cause a heat wave to blossom in my chest and my mouth to tingle with anticipation. When our lips gently touched, his tongue slid inside and caressed mine. Hunger for more overtook me and I fell into our kiss like it was the first time all over again. My heart raced as heat poured down into my core. I breathed him in, inhaling the life force of love that flowed from him into me, and back out again. Our bodies united in a perfect exchange of our desire for each other and our need to be needed. Our hearts were beating in an intimate rhythm, completing an eternal, infinite connection.

  Christos’ intense desire to touch me accelerated into almost a desperate thing. His hands were all over my breasts, my ass, caressing across my stomach, my throat, touching all the tender sensit
ive places that only Christos had ever touched. It was like he couldn’t touch me intimately enough, as if his fingers searched desperately for my very soul so that he could hold onto it and never let go. My heart was so open to him in that moment, I welcomed his need. I imagined my own soul flowing into his body to mingle with his. I was his to take, to embrace, to caress, to hold, to love.

  I murmured, “I need you, agápi mou.”

  He responded by unbuttoning my blouse with intoxicated languor while he licked my neck, the curve of my jaw, the lobe of my ear. He tugged the tails of my blouse out of my skirt and unbuttoned it slowly. Then he planted his warm palms firmly on my taut stomach before sliding both hands over the satin cups of my bra and squeezing my cleavage.

  “Your breasts are perfect, agápi mou. I swear, whenever I’m around you, just thinking about them gets me hard. I always want to touch them and grab them. They drive me fucking crazy. I’ve never been so obsessed with breasts in my entire fucking life.”

  For a second, I was startled by his crude language. But there was a humor to his words, a lightness, an unabashed desire. After a moment, I realized that Christos was expressing his joy. His simple, unadulterated joy. For me. For my breasts. His words had an innocence and honesty to them that warmed my heart, an innocence that I couldn’t deny.

  I encircled his neck with my arms and smiled up at him. “They’re all yours, agápi mou,” I murmured.

  “Really?” he asked almost shyly. It was so unlike him to be shy. But he was. For me.

  I nodded and smiled at him. “For you, agápi mou. Only for you.”

  He smiled wide while he unsnapped my bra in the front and it popped free, releasing my breasts. His eyes goggled and the grin on his face was now gigantic, like he’d never seen breasts before. “Fuck,” he grinned, “look at them. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He looked like he had discovered a treasure chest worth trillions of dollars. Maybe he had.

  I glanced down at my breasts. They looked like my regular old breasts. I wasn’t going to argue with Christos. If they looked like treasure to him, so be it. My own smile widened.