Running From Forever

by Ashley Wilcox

  His proximity made my heart rate increase and a heat of passion cover my skin. “Cheers.” I smiled, raising my glass and clinking it with his before taking a sip.

  With one gulp, Miles finished his, placing it back on the ledge before turning and taking mine, a devious smirk replacing the soft smile he had just moments before. Before I could even see what he was doing, he lifted me off my seat in one swift movement, sitting me back down on his lap, allowing my legs to drape off the side of his and my arms to wrap around his neck.

  “Thank you for accompanying me this evening, Ms. Reynolds,” he began in a husky, seductive tone, his face only inches from mine. “You made this event like no other I’ve attended,” Miles continued, his words tickling my lips.

  Everything in my body was coming to life. With my lips growing dry, I ran my tongue slowly along them, moistening them before answering, “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Blackwell.”

  Miles moved in closer, his mouth nearly touching mine. “Mmm,” he moaned against them. “I like how that sounds coming from those beautiful lips,” he purred, nipping at my bottom lip. It was sexy, heated, and got the attention of an area down below.

  “What else do you like coming from these lips?” I asked, kissing him in between my words.

  “Mmm, definitely that,” he agreed, kissed me again. “And your love,” he continued, moving his mouth to the side of my face. “I love hearing it from those lips,” he moved down to my neck, “and pressed against my skin.” He traveled down to my chest, making my breath catch when his hand pushed up under my breast, cupping it firmly. “I love the way they feel when they run along it.”

  There was no questioning the way Miles had with words. Even though I enjoyed his mouth and hands caressing my body, they wouldn’t be necessary to turn every ounce of me on. It was his words that made me wild. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made me come in my panties with his words alone. The tone in which he spoke and the perfect amount of warm air that escaped his mouth when he did was intoxicating and addictive; so much so that my mind blanked out, not allowing me to distinguish any more coming from his mouth. My body was spiraling out of control, trembling with each pass he made over my skin and with each time his thumb grazed my nipple, which was already erect, standing firm and peeking through my dress. Yes, Miles Blackwell had a way with words and knew just how well to use them, especially in company with his hands. I was ready to explode only seconds into our foreplay.

  The limousine came to a stop, alerting us of our arrival and making me curse internally that I lived so close to Gotham Hall. I wasn’t ready to leave; I wanted to continue down the road we were heading. I needed relief…loads and loads of passionate relief.

  I could feel Miles grin against my chest, just above the top of my dress. My loss of control beneath his touch was apparently entertaining. Just before Malcolm opened the door, Miles lifted his head, the devious smile from just moments ago back.

  “Well, Ms. Reynolds,” he began with his eyebrow raised, “are you going to invite me in?”

  I didn’t need to think; I knew my answer before he even finished his question. “Yes, Mr. Blackwell. It would be my great pleasure if you could accompany me up to my apartment.”

  A low chuckle reverberated from deep within him before biting his lower lip with an amused smile. “Yes, indeed.” He ran his nose slowly along my cheek. “It would be of great pleasure, Ms. Reynolds.”

  That was it. I couldn’t handle it one moment longer. I needed him inside, and not just my apartment. My body ached for his, needing to feel his naked body pressed against mine, moving delicately, delectably, rhythmically up and down the length of it. I craved every inch of his being.

  I allowed Malcolm to take my hand, helping me off of Miles’ lap and out onto the sidewalk. Miles followed, letting Malcolm know that he didn’t have to wait for him. I guess he did wait outside everywhere for Miles. What a boring job!

  With Miles’ hand on my lower back, we walked confidently to the entrance of my building, trying our best to keep our raging hormones in check at least until we reached the elevator.

  As soon as the metal doors closed, Miles turned, boxing me into the corner. Immediately my breathing went heavy, the rise and fall of my chest evident as my breasts strained against the fabric of my dress. His forehead rested against mine, his erection pressed against my lower belly.

  “I need to have you, baby,” he practically growled against my lips. “As soon as we step foot inside your place, I need you beneath me.”

  I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I was frozen against the cool mirrored walls. The only feeling that I could distinguish was the throbbing between my legs. All I could do was nod my head. There would be no resistance on my end. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. The sexual tension building between us was almost unbearable. It was unmistakable; we were both ready to explode.

  Once the elevator steadied, Miles backed away, standing beside me just as any two people waiting in an elevator would. He grabbed my hand, ready to exit, and he didn’t skip a beat once they did, walking briskly and with purpose towards my door. I couldn’t get my keys out of purse quick enough, and practically fell inside when I finally turned the knob.

  Miles’ hands were on my hips as soon as we stepped foot inside, holding my back firmly to his chest, his mouth finding my neck immediately. My left hand lifted to cup the back of his head, but it never made it, his mouth separated from my body. We weren’t alone. We had company.

  ***

  I screamed at the sight of a male’s head lifting from the pull out couch. I’d forgotten about my sister and so did Miles. But that’s not what startled me; it was the recognition of that male that made all the blood from my body drain at once. It was the person I saw now sitting up, exposing my naked sister below him.

  “Trevor?” I questioned, not believing what my eyes were seeing.

  The smirk on his face was devious and full of revenge. Bastard! This wasn’t the man I’d known and loved for the past three and half years. The person before me was spiteful and ugly with his anger.

  “Hello, Kayla.” He smiled like I caught him exactly how he wanted me to.

  I was sure I was going to be sick; I felt a knot of bile rising up my throat. This wasn’t happening to me. I had to be dreaming…having the worst nightmare imaginable.

  “You could have knocked first. You do have a roommate, or didn’t you care?” He tilted his head to the side, his expression turning angry. He looked back and forth between Miles and I. “You only had one thing on your mind, didn’t you? You’re the same slutty bitch you’ve always been…”

  “Watch your tone,” Miles interjected, stepping out from behind me.

  “Go fuck yourself, Blackwell!” Trevor shouted, standing from the couch, not even worrying about my sister naked and frozen on the bed or the fact that he was free for all to see. “We had a fuckin’ deal. You owed me, asshole!”

  The world around me began to spin. What was Trevor saying? I looked up at Miles, lost. His expression was remorseful, even apologetic. No. No. No. This wasn’t happening.

  “Please baby, let me explain…”

  I could faintly hear Miles calling out to me as I began stepping backwards. I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear anything. I needed to get out of there. I needed to get away.

  I needed to run.

  ***

  ***

  It was abnormally slow for a Friday night. As I started to wipe down the bar and clean the remaining dirty glasses, I contemplated closing up early, but changed my mind when Kayla came barreling in the door in a fancy black dress, eyes full of tears, makeup smeared down her face. I did what any other guy would do; I dropped everything and met her on the other side of the bar, pulling her into my chest and asking repetitively what was wrong? Was she hurt? Did something happen? I didn’t know which it was. She was crying so hard I worried someone did something to her. I’d beat the son of a bitch that did. She shook her head no, calming my rage.
/>   I knew very little about Kayla, I had only had talked to her a few times—a little bit both nights she came in with her coworkers and then again this afternoon when I say her and her sister walking by when I was opening up. I hadn’t spent much time with her, but I was inexplicably drawn to her. She was hot, of course, but that wasn’t it. She was just one of those girls that I felt I could get close to; she was easy to talk to, and made me smile like an idiot. It was safe to say that I had a little thing for her, but it was pointless to act on because she had a boyfriend. Not just any boyfriend, though, her boyfriend was the biggest rich boy douchebag in the city. I didn’t stand a chance. The man had more fucking money than he knew what to do with.

  Once her sobbing subsided and she could breathe normally, I helped her onto a bar stool, taking a seat on another. She hung her head low as she ran her fingers beneath her eyes, attempting to wipe away her ruined makeup. I shoved a few cocktail napkins into her hand. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t any use—her face was covered. Now that she’d calmed down, she looked embarrassed. I didn’t want her to feel that way.

  “Hey,” I said, lifting her chin. “What happened?”

  She swallowed so hard that I could see her jaw, then throat, move with it. She was contemplating her answer. I didn’t want her to feel obligated to tell. I just wanted her to feel comfortable here.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I added before she could open her mouth. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

  “Not physically,” Kayla grumbled softly, so low that I almost couldn’t understand her.

  That fucking douchebag did this to her. I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I knew he would eventually. I was just pissed that he proved me right so soon. The fucker paraded around Manhattan with a new rich slut almost monthly, flooding the tabloids. I didn’t understand what he was doing with Kayla in the first place; he caught me off guard when he showed up here Tuesday looking for her. Don’t get me wrong, Kayla’s a hundred percent better looking than the rest of his arm candy, but she wasn’t one of them. Even though she carried herself well, she wasn’t part of the bitch list. She was better than that.

  “Thank you,” she grumbled again; this time looking up to me. My chest caved. She looked so broken and lost, not the fun-loving person she’d been each time I’d seen her this week.

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “For just being here,” she continued. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  My lips turned up in a smile as my shoulders relaxed. “You came to the right place.”

  “Thanks,” she said again, her lips mimicking mine and forming a partial smile.

  “Well,” I stood, reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle of the house tequila and two shot glasses, “this is just a shot in the dark, no pun intended, but I’m guessing that you’re in need of one of these.” I poured some in each of the glasses, then picked one up, handing it to her.

  She snorted. “Your guess is correct.” She smirked, taking it from my hand.

  “To assholes?” I raised my glass, hoping it wasn’t too much to declare that our toast, but her smirk grew larger, stretching into a smile.

  “To assholes!” she agreed, clicking her glass with mine before tossing it back like a champ.

  I lifted the bottle. “Another?”

  She nodded her head, agreeing. “I’m gonna need a few.”

  “Bar’s closed, buddy!” I shouted to the customer walking in.

  “Sign says ‘open.’”

  “Well, go ahead and flip it to ‘closed’ when you leave,” I told him, motioning to the sign on the window of the door and causing Kayla to bust out laughing. Her laugh was contagious, making it hard to keep a straight face. I was having too much fun with her and far from sober— running the bar wasn’t a priority at the moment.

  The guy didn’t budge, only rolled his eyes and left, flipping the sign over with attitude before slamming the door shut behind him.

  “I don’t think he was very happy,” Kayla observed, continuing to giggle between sips of her beer.

  “Yeah, something tells me he won’t be a repeat customer.”

  “Pretty sure he has to be a customer in the first place to be a repeat one,” she pointed out.

  I looked at her, confused, not understanding a word she was fucking saying. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d had too much to drink or if it was me. Probably a mix of both. Her laugh grew louder, seeing my confusion.

  “You just turned him away, dumbass, so he wasn’t a customer yet.”

  I still wasn’t getting it—clearly I was fucked up.

  “Oh, Christ, never mind.” She waved her hand, taking a long gulp of her drink. “It’s not even funny anymore.”

  We both busted out, laughing our asses off.

  “I’m gonna pee myself. Where’s your bathroom?” she stood, her legs squeezed together, looking like she was going to fall over and/or piss all over her fancy little dress.

  With my stomach now aching from laughing so much, I pointed to the back of the bar. From the slow strides she was taking, I wasn’t sure she was going to make it, especially since every other step she took she stumbled into something, making us both laugh even more.

  I still had no clue what the hell happened tonight with her, and I didn’t care. The fact that she was laughing and having a good time was all I cared about. Kayla was a unique girl, unlike any other I had met. Our conversations flowed easily and nothing was forced. She wasn’t looking for attention or asking the stupid, space-filling questions like where I was from, if I owned the bar, where I lived, blah, blah, blah…no, she was real, laid back, and cool. It was like hanging out with one of my best friends. The only strange thing about it was we were practically strangers yet laughed and shot the shit like two old time buddies.

  “MERRICK!” I heard her yell from the back of the bar.

  I ran. Well, I stumbled quickly in the direction of the bathrooms, yelling, “What?!” from outside the women’s door. “Shit, are you okay? Did you fall in?”

  “There’s no toilet paper in here.”

  “Gotta be.” I cracked the door a little, making sure not to peek all the way inside, but enough to where I felt I didn’t need to shout anymore.

  “Uh, there’s definitely none in here.” She pulled the door open the rest of the way, almost making me fall on the floor. The laughter came again when I saw her standing there, her dress hanging down like normal but with a little lacy black thong hanging around her ankles. “What the hell are you laughing at?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed. The smirk on her face told otherwise.

  I looked down at her feet, nodding to her panties. I could hardly process that I was standing in the bathroom with a chick talking about missing TP. They were hot panties, though, black and lacy and was she yelling again?

  “What? You’ve never seen underwear before? I can’t pull them up; I need toilet paper first!” she scolded me.

  The girl was a fucking riot. I couldn’t help but smile and fucking laugh at every flipping thing she said. I leaned over, shaking my head at her statement, and opened the cabinet underneath the sink, revealing the secret stash of rolls.

  “I’m well aware of what women’s underwear looks like,” I said matter-of-factly while handing her the toilet paper roll in my hand.

  “I’m sure you are,” she said slyly. “Especially hung around a girl’s feet in a women’s bathroom.”

  Burn! Normally I would’ve taken that statement as a sexual insinuation and jumped on the opportunity immediately, but with Kayla, it was different. I didn’t see her like that. I didn’t see her as a chance to get into her pants or in this case, up her dress. It was more of a joke.

  “True, but not from a sloppy drunk with piss running down her leg,” I joked, already crediting myself with a wise laugh.

  “I don’t have piss running down my leg, asshole.” She smacked my arm. “And what the hell are you even doing in here anyway? Didn’t you read the s
ign or is there something I should know about you?” She cleared her throat, her eyes fixed on my junk.

  “Fuck that!” I gripped myself, seeming insulted. “I’ve got the whole fruit basket, sweetheart, and if I remember correctly, it was you yelling that you needed me.”

  “Toilet paper—not you!”

  “Oh, whatever.” I nudged her out of the way to exit. “Go wipe the piss off your leg,” I added on my way out.

  “Ugh! I don’t have piss on my leg!” she shouted from behind me, making me chuckle.

  I loved getting under her skin; the annoyed whine that came out every fucking time was hysterical. I couldn’t help but belly laugh each time she did it.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Kayla was chanting, pacing the side of my bed. Plod, plod, plod, swear, swear, swear, and repeat.

  “Chill the fuck out, we didn’t fuck. I didn’t even see your tits,” I grumbled into the pillow, my head feeling like it was going to explode.

  “Then how did I get your clothes on and why was I sleeping in your bed?” she moaned, continuing to harass me.

  Annoyed, I sat up, but with my head still hanging low. “Kayla, take a deep breath. I gave you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt so you didn’t have to sleep in your dress and the bed is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the forty-year-old couch sitting in my living room. Any more questions?”

  She looked at me a moment longer, contemplating her answer before speaking in a much calmer tone. “So we didn’t do anything?”

  “Well, I didn’t, but you…”

  Her hands immediately flew to her face, covering her now blushing skin. “Oh God…I’m so sorry. I don’t…”

  I managed to muster a small chuckle, amused. “Calm yourself. I was kidding. Nothing happened.”

  Relieved with my answer, she exhaled, becoming visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank God.”

  “Geez, thanks a whole fucking lot.”