by Vic Tyler
One of the paramedics came by and wrapped my hands in bandages. I hadn’t noticed my knuckles were red and raw.
An officer took each of us aside. Johan gave his statement first and quickly left. After Maria and I gave ours, we were given the OK to leave.
“I’m going with her.” Grant didn’t leave any room for argument, not that anyone would with how intensely his eyes never left her.
The paramedic nodded, and the whole crowd suddenly dispersed, following Brie’s body on the stretcher.
Maria and I made our way down slowly, stunned. The party had disbanded already, the mess abandoned in the large empty room. Maria grabbed my sleeve and looked up at me, her eyes tormented and seeking.
“We need to talk,” she said, as she opened an adjoining door. It was a large, empty ballroom with every wall covered in mirrors from ceiling to floor.
“What?” I asked, the mess of emotions and everything that just happened fogging my mind.
“Why were you the first one she called?” Maria blurted out. She immediately covered her mouth in shock, a look of guilt washing over her face.
“What?” I was stunned. “What does it matter?”
The residual anger started seeping out. I couldn’t do this right now. I needed to separate myself from her or else I might say something I’d regret, and I didn’t want to take it out on Maria. “She just called the first person she could when that asshole cornered her.”
“I know,” Maria whispered, her face scrunched with the agony and confusion she felt. “But out of everyone she could’ve called, why was it you?”
“What are you saying?”
“Have you been seeing Brie?” Maria said, clenching her eyes shut.
“We just saw her.”
“No.” Maria’s face looked pained as she looked at me. She struggled to say the next words. “Have you and Brie been sleeping together?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I was too shocked to process what she just said. “Cheddar? Me? What the fuck?”
Maria groaned. Jesus, what was she thinking? Was she jealous? She thought I was sneaking off to do God-knows-what with Cheddar?
A burst of fresh, newfound anger shot through me.
“What about you?” I shot back, bitterly. Shit, I couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “You’ve gone on dates with Amir. Who knows what happened there? And first chance you get, you’re off flirting and jumping into some other guy’s arms?”
“What are you talking about?” Maria asked incredulously. “Johan?”
“I saw you two whispering together, I saw him touching you.” I was regretting every word, all of my jealousy pouring despicably out of my mouth.
“He’s married,” Maria gritted, steadily growing angrier. “And what touch? Oh, my god. He was taking an eyelash off my cheek. He even used a napkin to do it. That’s just common human decency. Have you heard of it? And what do you care, Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships?”
“Of course I’d be concerned about you,” I said, irritated.
“And I’m telling you there was no need to be concerned.” Maria was shaking with indignation. “And what’s with this possessiveness? All of a sudden, you think you have any reason to tell me what to do or who to see or talk to?”
“Then why do you care if I’m seeing Cheddar?”
Maria’s face paled. Shit.
“I,” she stammered, her eyes brimming with tears. Shit, shit, shit.
“Maria —”
She turned around and started running. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my chest. She tried pushing away, but I held on tight.
“Jesus, Maria,” my voice low and hoarse. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the only one I want. That hasn’t changed. What do I have to do to make you see that?”
My mouth crashed into hers, her red wine and my whiskey mingling with our saliva as we fervently claimed each others’ mouths. Our tongues explored each other, desperate to relapse into our addiction. She grasped my neck tightly, pulling me in, as I squeezed her small body into mine. She bit my bottom lip, and I growled into her mouth, as I grabbed her shoulders and whipped her around so that she was facing the mirror.
I wrapped one hand around her chin, gently but firmly holding it taut as I breathed her hair in — that intoxicating vanilla scent that I was hooked on the first time I smelt it. My other hand snaked down, flipping her dress up and roughly shoving my hand down her stockings.
“Stop,” she panted, grabbing on my arms.
“You know the word if you really want me to stop.” My voice sounded unfamiliarly guttural and hoarse.
I traced her bottom lip with my finger, and when she didn’t say anything, I shoved my fingers into her mouth and her soaking pussy.
“Look how wet you are,” I murmured into her ear. “I want to see you watch yourself cum.”
There was no teasing, no gentle caresses or petting. My lust felt raw and heady, all restraint lost from the strain of today. There was no part of me that wasn’t going to pound forcefully into her. Every part of me was reduced to an animalistic urge. I needed to mark her. I needed to make her mine.
I bit into her shoulder and sucked, tasting her smooth skin, and her cry of pleasure rang in the room.
By now, I knew her body. The way her back arched when she was going to cum, the way her breath hitched before her moans grew loud and unrestrained, and she was reaching that point.
Fuck.
I yanked my hands out of her completely. She fell to her knees, her climax ripped away from her, and she turned to me, angry, confused, lustful.
I needed to get something. Meanwhile, I’d leave her wanting. I ran out of the room. After frantically looking for it, I carried it back, Maria still in the same position on the floor.
I slid the full length mirror on the floor, up against the wall, and hoisted her above it, one stilettoed foot on each side.
“Put your hands against the wall,” I said, pushing her shoulders down so she was sharply bent with her ass facing me.
I took a few seconds drinking in the view. Her smooth, exposed back faced me, those curves within reach. The skin I could see all evening and barely keep myself from claiming, from ripping her clothes off and slamming into her for everyone to see. Those long, smooth legs toned by those unreasonable heels that I could never understand until now. Leading up to her round, full ass — her dress flipped over — with her black thong framing those round cheeks through the sheer black stockings that veiled that ass — the ass that belonged to me.
I gave it a sharp slap, her cheeks reverberating. She gasped.
I bent down and put my mouth against her slit, licking and sucking her through the fabric. Her juices thoroughly soaked her stockings. I grabbed the delicate fabric and ripped it, moving the thin strap of her thong aside.
God, I loved her pussy. Her swollen, fat lips dripping with glistening wetness from the folds of her pink little slit. It was so sensitive, and her moans came with every little lick as though her mouth had a direct line to her nether regions. I greedily slurped it all, moaning deep into her pussy as I tasted her musky juices. I almost lost myself in the pace of eating her out, before I remembered I wasn’t here for that right now.
I stood back up, unbuckling and unbuttoning my pants, staring at her reflection in the mirror. My cock jerked excitedly seeing her large chocolate eyes hooded with desire, her swollen red lips moist and parted, and her face begging me for release.
She was so fucking beautiful. It drove me crazy knowing that that expression on her face was because of me — for me.
“How long have you been on the pill?”
“A little over a month,” she said shakily.
“I’m going to fuck you raw. Any objections?”
She shuddered with anticipation and then shook her head. I dropped my cock onto her ass, the solid flesh feeling stiffer and heavier than usual, impatient from not cumming in the past week.
I moved it back so the tip of my head
rubbed against her asshole, and she jerked up in surprise. I pushed her back down and smirked at her through the reflection. She glared as if to say no. Next time.
I slid the tip of my head down, rubbing it against her aching lips. The raw feeling of her juices coating my head made me harder than ever, and I was barely fighting back the instinct to feel for myself how her insides felt when we finally connected, flesh in flesh. When we became one.
She groaned and put her head down, looking at the mirror between our feet.
“Take a good look,” I told her, still rubbing, still teasing. “You’re going to watch that filthy pussy take all of my cock until I’m balls deep inside of you. Then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk straight so everyone will know you’ve been thoroughly fucked when we leave this room. Then I’m going to cum inside of you, and you’re going to leave here with all of our juices dripping out of you. Do you like the sound of that?”
“Wait —” she said, furrowing her brow and starting to come up.
I dug my hand into her back and pushed her back down.
“I said, do you like the sound of that?”
“Yes.”
She gasped when I suddenly slapped her ass, the impact resounding throughout the room.
“What did you say?”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.
No teasing. No gentleness.
I grabbed her hips and slammed into her. Her pussy was hot and slippery, and I could feel the glorious ribbing of her pussy against every surface of my hungry cock, massaging it, milking it. Any remnant of self-control I had vanished, and I savagely pounded into her, our animalistic sounds echoing in the empty, dark, mirrored room.
She was pure sex. Her hole was hot, soaking, gasping, slurping as I rammed my thick, hard length into her over and over again. We were connected. We were one. Bare flesh inside bare flesh. This is where I belonged. There was no other woman who felt so delicious wrapped around me.
This woman ruined sex for me.
Her back arched, pushing her ass into me, as her orgasm violently crashed into her. I grabbed her hair firmly and pulled it towards me so she slanted up, knowing I was going to pound into her G-spot.
And sure enough, another wave of her climax and then another one shook her body, each one pulsing the walls of her pussy violently against my dick. Watching her eyes roll back and tear up from the pleasure combined with the divine feeling of our raw union was too much for me, as I felt my balls tighten, threatening to shoot any time.
I pulled her up closer.
“Whose pussy is this?” I growled in her ear.
“Yours,” she whimpered. I tightened my grip.
“What?”
“It’s yours, sir.”
“Who do you belong to?”
“I’m yours, sir.”
“That’s fucking right,” I think I said before my own orgasm took me.
My vision went white, and my balls shot my hot cum deep into her. It was a few seconds before I came back around, and I realized my fingers were digging into her hips and ass.
As soon as I let go, Maria’s legs collapsed under her, and I barely caught her before she fell onto the mirror, painted white and blurry by all the juices that drizzled down from our passionately carnal mating.
I pulled her limp body against me, as I collapsed onto the ground, leaning against the mirrored wall we just watched ourselves in. We panted heavily, exhausted, as we collected ourselves again. The room was empty and dark with only our breaths moving the still air.
“I think I love you.”
Maria’s voice was quiet and sad. Hearing the words in my post-orgasm haze let through the unfiltered feelings that I buried.
Relief. Joy. Adoration. Confusion. Unworthy. Fear.
“Yeah.”
CHAPTER NINE
Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You
- Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons
There were few things that scared me, and after what had just happened, I put Grant’s fury pretty high on the list. There was something devastatingly primal and unleashed about Grant that night. It instigated every animal instinct in me to run away.
The hospital was a mess. When Benji and I arrived, Grant was unrecognizable. Every guard and mask he put up was stripped off, and his unbridled rage, agony, and devastation couldn’t be contained as he paced the hospital waiting room. And I thought I related to his sentiments — the anger, worry, hope that Benji and I felt during all this. But it was an entirely different night for Grant.
When Brie’s family came, Grant went with them to explain the situation. It was only a few minutes later when Benji and I heard the crash from the room they were in. Brie’s dad was holding her older brother back, his face twisted with hatred with his bulging arm cocked back. Grant was on the ground, all of the hospital equipment scattered on the floor around him, as he stared up at the ceiling with his eye and cheek quickly darkening. And the resignation in his eyes. The punishment he felt he deserved.
When the doctor finally came out with the results and said she was perfectly fine, Grant sank into a chair, exhausted and relieved and defenseless.
It turned out that Brie was roofied and was dealt a few bad bruises, but other than that she was expected to recover soon. Her agency was thoroughly relieved and offered her as much time as she needed to recover.
But there was bad news too. Cooper was admitted into the hospital for severe internal bleeding, broken ribs, and other issues. Grant told us angrily, nearly crushing his phone in his hand, that Cooper wouldn’t be charged with anything and that there was no action in his company to do anything about it. He threw his phone at the wall, shattering the screen, but he obviously didn’t care.
Benji walked over to Grant and said something quietly to him. I could almost see the gears turning in Grant’s head before he calmed down and said something back to Benji. I would’ve been worried, but knowing that they were working together to set things right actually put me at ease.
By then, it’d been hours since we arrived and Brie was sound asleep, so once we confirmed the hospital’s visiting hours, Benji and I left. Grant stayed by her side for the rest of the night.
Since the party, things were tense between Benji and me. We didn’t talk about what happened. Benji ran around with Grant, figuring out whatever they were doing, and I spent most of my free time visiting Brie. She was doing fine, and she said she barely remembered anything from the night except trying to stay awake long enough to fight Cooper off and then seeing Grant at the door. Complete darkness afterwards.
It was a few days later when Benji asked me into his office. He picked up his camera and put it back down, only to pick it back up a few seconds later.
“I’m leaving BAYRE,” Benji said, fidgeting with his camera. He put it down and looked up at me. “I’m going to South America.”
“What?”
I was stunned. BAYRE without Benji? I couldn’t imagine it. “Why?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “A colleague invited me to go on an assignment for the National Geographic with him. It’s a project in the Amazon.”
Amazing. I knew I should’ve been feeling excited for him, and my head was telling me it was an awesome opportunity, that I should be jealous. But my heart sank straight through my stomach. This was starting to feel like a break-up when we weren’t even together. Of course it would all end after I stupidly confessed that I love him.
“Oh, that’s great,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t seem stiff or forced. “It’s a good opportunity for you. The studio won’t be the same without you.”
Benji exhaled deeply, looking at the wall. “I accepted it a while ago. We’ve been preparing for my move out. Grant said he’d like to keep you on if you’re interested.”
The pieces started crashing into place. In a massive rush that my mind almost wasn’t able to keep up with. The new photographer, the replacement, the paperwork changes, client transitions. Everything started making sense.
&
nbsp; “How come you didn’t say anything earlier?” I gritted, unable to keep the hurt and anger from seeping out. I took a deep breath and stepped back. “Nevermind, you don’t owe me any of that, do you?”
No response. It was the second time after I heard the empty echo of my voice in my parents’ home that the silence that hung in the air was infinitely more painful.
The bells at the front door tinkled.
