by JJ Jones
Once she got into the shower, she languished in the hot water until she swore she was going to turn into a giant prune, nearly falling asleep on her feet a few times, only barely remembering to actually wash her hair. After the third bout of nearly dozing off, she reluctantly turned the water off and got out, deciding that it was probably for the best if she got out of the bathroom before she tipped over and brained herself on the toilet.
She got dressed in her pajamas, scrubbed her face at the sink, and brushed her teeth, and afterwards, scrubbed as clean as she could possibly manage, she almost felt like she fit right in her skin again. She picked up the clothing she had worn that day, balled them up in a messy lump, and pitched them in the general direction of her suitcase once she stepped out of the bathroom. They missed by a few feet and landed in a sad heap against the wall.
She looked at the clock once again, blinking slowly once she realized she had been in the shower for nearly two hours, and she mused to herself that maybe she had actually dozed off for a while if that much time had passed.
She shook her head briefly, letting the thought pass, and her attention instead drifted to the
television. She supposed it would at least be something to keep her occupied for the rest of the day, even if she just zoned out as she stared at it. But as she went to grab the remote from the dresser, she noticed a slip of paper sitting on the floor in front of the door, having been slipped underneath it while she was in the shower.
Curiosity piqued, she picked it up, and she felt a brief flood of relief as she read the words,
informing her that someone had dropped off her laptop, recorder, and phone and that they were waiting for her with the receptionist in the lobby.
Briefly, she contemplated at least putting on real pants to leave the room, but she decided that was effort she was not willing to expend. She stepped into her sneakers, grabbed her card key, and left the room, making her way to the lobby to collect her supplies.
She was still positive she would have nightmares that night, but at least it wasn’t a horrible way to end the day, considering everything else that had happened and how bad it could have been. It was a little silver lining in the dark grey rain clouds, and it was something she very desperately needed at that point.
With her possessions gathered close, she beat a hasty retreat to her room before she could start getting emotional for such a ridiculous reason.
THE FINAL CHAPTER
Clarissa didn’t remember falling asleep the night before, but to be fair, she didn’t remember most of the previous evening at all. She knew she hadn’t slept particularly well and that her dreams had been plagued with violence and blood and fire.
When she woke up, she spent a while just staring up at the ceiling, contemplating the fact that she had been kidnapped the day before, even if only for a short while. She had been kidnapped with deadly intent, and she had been just a few yards away as Abel killed someone. That wasn’t even the first time she could say that, considering what had happened with Mrs. Callahan. Both of them had been to keep Clarissa safe. She had hardly ever been in danger at all before going on her trip. And suddenly, in the span of a couple of weeks, someone had to kill to defend her more than once.
Maybe it should have made her think about Abel differently. She had watched him kill two people, after all. And yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her feelings
towards him really hadn’t changed that much. Mostly she was just very aware of the fact that he would do anything to keep her safe, and though for the moment that notion was still a bit daunting, it nonetheless warmed her to her core.
It seemed like a safe bet to say that feeling was trying to tell her something, and with a sigh, she rolled over and stared at the edge of the bed as she thought about things a bit more seriously.
Part of her wanted to just avoid Abel. She had gotten involved in such a bloody, violent mess because of him, and she felt like no one would blame her if she decided to just go home and be done with everything. But when she thought about that possibility, it felt like a frigid fist was squeezing her heart tight, until she could scarcely breathe around it, and she knew that wasn’t an option.
Finally, she threw herself out of bed, gathered up some clothes for the day, and headed into the bathroom. She had showered yesterday before falling asleep, but that seemed irrelevant as she turned on the water. It was always easier for her to clear her thoughts while she was in the
shower, after all, and right then she had a lot of thoughts to work through and to clear out.
By the time she was done and dressed as comfortably as she could be, she felt a bit more settled in her skin and at least a bit more confident about the situation. She would see Abel. She had to. More importantly than that, she wanted to. She would just…wait for him to call. After all, it felt as if the day before had changed everything. Though it made fairly little sense, part of her kept insisting that he might have decided he didn’t want her around anymore.
(She told herself that was ridiculous, and it was, and she knew it was, but it was a stubborn and tenacious voice.)
So, she kept herself busy, working on her article and deleting recordings she no longer needed off of her recorder.
Morning was bleeding into afternoon by the time she got sick of waiting for him to call. If he wasn’t going to do anything, then she would just have to take things into her own hands. She supposed she should have from the time she got up, but better late than never.
She didn’t bother to call ahead. She simply strolled out of the hotel, caught a cab, and rode to Abel’s home. If the driver thought it a bit odd to be dropping her off in such a wealthy neighborhood when she was dressed like a college student on laundry day, he said nothing about it, and Clarissa felt no need to offer unprompted explanations. She simply paid him and got out of the car.
She paused on the sidewalk as the taxi pulled away from the curb behind her and drove on its way, and she stared up at the townhouse for a moment before she took a breath and walked up the few steps to the door.
She paused there for only a moment longer before, at last, she knocked. She heard shuffling
inside followed by footsteps, and then the door was open, and she found herself nose-to-chest with Abel. Belatedly, she lifted her chin to look up at him, meeting his eyes as he gaped down at her as if a genie had just appeared on his stoop and promised him as many wishes as he could ever come up with.
She felt a bit warm at the way he stared at her, and her face heated slightly. After a moment, she cleared her throat and wondered, “So, am I allowed to come in, or am I just supposed to stand out here until you reboot?”
He jerked back a step, clearing the way for her to step inside and kick her shoes off, and the door was closed again a moment later, muffling the sounds of the outside world.
Finally, Abel admitted, “I didn’t really expect to see you again.” As if his reaction to actually
seeing her hadn’t given that away, plain as day.
“Expected me to run off into the sunset?” Clarissa wondered wryly, and Abel offered a helpless shrug in return.
“No one would blame you if you did,” he pointed out, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “I mean, I wouldn’t. Yesterday was…Hell,” he summed up neatly, and really, Clarissa couldn’t argue with that assessment. The day before had been Hell, or at least as close to Hell as she assumed she was ever going to get.
“I would blame me,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest before she jerked her head in a sharp ‘come here’ motion. “Now stop fretting and get over here,” she commanded, sharply enough that Abel closed the distance between them as if on autopilot.
Clarissa’s arms unfolded, and she reached up, curling a hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down to her height, until their lips met. Gently, at first, until at last all the stress of the previous day poured out of them, and soon enough it was less like they were kissing and more like they were trying
to devour each other with tongues and teeth. Abel’s hands fell to her hips to pull her closer, until they were pressed together chest-to-chest, with hardly any space between them to breathe.
They parted every so often when the need to breathe asserted itself, but always only for the briefest moment they could get away with. And when Abel began backing towards the stairs with a purpose, Clarissa followed willingly and urged him along, pushing at him with one hand.
When they got to the base of the stairs, at last they separated to climb them, only to get drawn towards each other all over again as they got halfway up the stairs, and Clarissa found herself pinned to the wall with their mouths sealed together once again.
It seemed to take an eternity just to make it to the top of the stairs, and even longer to make it to Abel’s bedroom. She was almost surprised that they actually bothered to make it that far, but the thought fled her mind quickly as Abel began tugging at her shirt. She lifted her arms and he pulled it over her head and dropped it, and he wasted no time before he let his hands drift behind her back to unclip her bra and let it fall to the floor.
From there, his hands slid down her sides until they got to the button of her pants and popped it easily and tugged down the zipper. He pulled her pants and her panties down at the same time, tugging them down to her knees to let them fall the rest of the way to the floor, where impatience led to him picking her up for a moment rather than simply letting her step out of them and kick them aside.
Abel was still dressed, and the disparity left Clarissa feeling a little off balance, but she didn’t have any time to point it out before his lips were sealed over hers again, his tongue delving into her mouth and tangling with her own.
It took a few long moments before Clarissa had the sense of mind to start tugging at his shirt,
before she simply pushed her hands beneath it and began dragging them up his stomach and chest, his shirt catching on her wrists and lifting upwards with the motion. Abel cottoned on to her point quickly, leaning back just a few inches so he could pull his shirt over his head and throw it aside, and as he did that, Clarissa unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and began tugging them and his boxers down his hips. He took over to shimmy them down his thighs until he could kick them aside, considering Clarissa couldn’t exactly lift him off of the floor as he had done with her.
Once they were both naked, they drew back together as if they were being pulled, hands exploring bared skin and lips pressing together. Skin pressed to skin, it was as if every inch of space between them evaporated.
Abel’s hands curled around Clarissa’s hips and he turned them both, so he could begin backing her towards the bed. Her legs bumped into the edge of it after only a few steps, and she sat down abruptly before letting herself fall backwards on the blanket, her hair spilling like a halo around her head as she did. For a few moments, it seemed like Abel couldn’t do anything but stare at her, as if her presence there was a miracle.
But he shook his head quickly, dragging his focus back to the moment. He fell to his knees
beside the bed and grabbed Clarissa by the hips, and he tugged her closer to the edge of the mattress, until she was partially hanging off of the edge of it. Abel hitched her legs up, over his shoulders to keep them out of the way, and his hands slid down her thighs and back to her hips as he took hold of them.
Clarissa had some idea of what he was about to do, but even so it seemed to hit her like a bolt of electricity when his tongue touched her sex, dragging from one end of the lips of her labia to the other, before repeating the motion, over and over until she was squirming beneath his hold. His tongue dipped between the folds to her entrance, and Clarissa sighed out a shuddering breath as his tongue delved into her heat to lap at her, and it was only his hold on her hips that kept her from grinding against his face like some sort of insatiable nymphomaniac.
And yet, that was still nothing compared to the way it felt when he dragged his tongue over her clit, just before he sealed his lips around it and sucked. Clarissa moaned, her back arching as best as she could manage. When he probed at her entrance with two fingers, she couldn’t help but gasp out a helpless, “Shit,” and her legs tightened around his shoulders. Her muscles twitched and jumped as she tried fruitlessly to lift her hips to egg him on even further.
He didn’t need much convincing before the motion of his hand sped up, fucking his fingers into her faster, crooking them at just the right angle to hit that perfect spot with each thrust. When she came, she hardly had any warning beforehand, and she moaned so loud she could have sworn it echoed through the bedroom.
Slowly, Abel leaned away from her, ducking his head to the side to wipe his face off on the
blanket. As Clarissa gasped and tried to catch her breath, Abel climbed onto the bed and began repositioning her again, pulling her back onto the bed so she wasn’t hanging off of it anymore.
It took her a moment to realize what he was doing, and once she started truly paying attention again, it was so she could watch him stroke his erection in a slow and almost absentminded manner as he gave her a slow, lasting once over, as if he was committing her to memory as she was, sweating and out of breath and thoroughly debauched. As if he wanted to take a snapshot of her in that moment and hold onto it forever.
He wasn’t done with her, though, and the moment passed. Kneeling on the bed, he shuffled
closer to her, and while she expected him to settle between her legs, instead he came to a rest beside her. He trailed a hand down her neck and collarbones to her chest, where he paused to tweak one of her nipples until it hardened into a dusty pink pebble, before he shifted his attention to the other one. Once both nipples stiffened, he pinched them both between two fingers, tugging lightly and twisting until Clarissa was whimpering and shifting on the bed beneath him. Finally, he released her nipples to instead beginning kneading her breasts. It was as if he was trying his damnedest to drive Clarissa crazy.
Or at least that was what she thought, until she realized that it was not actually close to his damnedest.
One of his hands began to slide down her front, his touch so feather light that it nearly raised goosebumps in its wake. As it slowly made its way down her chest and stomach, his other hand resumed kneading one breast, kneading the other, toying roughly with one nipple, toying with the other. It seemed as if it had taken an eternity before one hand was pressed between her legs, and for a moment he simply stroked back and forth along the lips of her sex, hardly even applying any pressure, until Clarissa was positive she was going to go insane.
And finally, he pressed two fingers to her entrance. Just lightly, circling around it at first and barely even dipping within. Until Clarissa couldn’t help but to let out a low, keening whimper, and finally he thrust two fingers into her heat. Clarissa gasped and her back arched, and she closed her thighs as if to try and pull his hand closer, until he used his other hand to spread her legs apart again before that hand went right back to teasing her breasts.
Once her hips were jerking and she was panting, Abel pressed a third finger in and picked up the pace, fingers thrusting in and out like a piston. She whimpered unintelligibly and fisted her hands in the blanket so tightly she swore she might rip a hole right through the fabric.
Abel crooked his fingers, pressing them to just the right spot and rubbing, at the same moment that he twisted one abused nipple and gave it a pinch and a tug. With a shudder, Clarissa came for a second time, muscles clenching and her back arching off of the bed. He kept thrusting his fingers into her the entire time, drawing her orgasm out for as long as he could, until she was left panting and shivering with over stimulation. At last he pulled his fingers out.
Clarissa was practically boneless when Abel picked her up, and he settled her on his lap, wasting no time and settling her so his cock slipped right past the lips of her sex and to her entrance, breaching her easily. She moaned weakly and her head lolled onto his shoulder, and the only reason she managed to stay upright was because he was
holding her there. It was as if her entire skeleton had turned into gelatin.
For a moment, Abel just shifted back and forth, his cock shifting within her and leading to a
series of low whimpers, until at last he took hold of her hips to lift her off his lap. As he began to lower her once again, he sat up on his knees to close the distance halfway, so each thrust
ended in a tiny bouncing jerk, and with each little jerk, Clarissa felt as if the air was being forced from her lungs. It didn’t take long before it seemed as if all she could do was hold on to his shoulders for dear life as he picked up speed, thrusting relentlessly.
Clarissa moaned and whimpered and keened, each sound pulled from her throat gradually getting louder as they continued, until she could feel that familiar heat building once again for a third time, as impossible as it seemed.
Her third orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from her lungs and threatening to sweep her away. Shuddering, she clung to Abel’s shoulders, though his pace continued as quickly as ever, leaving her no time to catch her breath, until she was simply gasping and panting into the crook of his neck.
It seemed to take forever before Abel’s rhythm began to falter, until it was more like he was simply bouncing Clarissa on his lap. When at last he came, it was with a low groan, deep in his chest and drawn out, and gradually he slowed to a halt. Even then, it took a few moments before he lifted her off of his lap entirely to let his cock slip free. He let her fall back onto the bed and tumbled down beside her a second later. They were quiet as they caught their breath.
