by Amber Burns
They sat down. She felt small and protected as she leaned against his chest and placed her hands on his knees. He hugged her bare shoulders protecting her from the wind. As they sat there in silence, Enya studied the ink on his arms. They carried the same dragon theme, but there were also some numbers hidden in the design, which Enya thought were dates that mattered to him. There were also some scars which were covered with the artwork.
“They are beautiful,” she said. Touching them, made her feel stronger, and believe that there was no hardship or disappointment that could crash her.
“I’ll make sure you have a nice view of them when I take you,” he promised.
His hand slid down her thigh. He massaged the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, getting very close to her exposed pussy but never touching it. He then directed her hand toward his crotch and placed her palm on his cock that jerked to life as her fingers touched it.
Enya hesitated for a moment, before she cured her fingers around his member. With every touch he grew larger and harder. So much power flew through her body as she held that sensitive shaft in her hand and knew he reacted to her; she had the ability to make him want more, love him or hurt him.
Distracted with now very erect cock in her hand, Enya had completely forgotten the fingers that were getting closer and closer to her slit. It first felt that his mind was far away and his fingers were mirroring his thoughts by caressing her thighs in those lazy, circular movements. The more he ignored her needy parts, the more awake and excited they got. There was the heat of her body radiating through them, burning her from the inside, and the cool night air that brushed her love lips, made them tremble and crave for more touch.
When his fingers finally found her clit, she winced and squeezed the hard member in her hand. He responded to her with a throaty groan and more forceful caress on her pink little button setting it on fire. He collected her juices in his fingers and brought them to his mouth. He licked them clean, moaning as he swallowed her flavor and made her feel like the most delicious treat that had touched his tongue.
Enya leaned closer to him. She liked how his shaft was squeezed between their bodies, enjoyed the hardness of his chest, and now, as she knew that there was a fiery dragon inked on it, she almost felt the heat of that fire as his skin touched her back. His breath was heavy and when his chest rose and fell, it seemed that the dragon was coming to life and it was its fiery breath warming her back.
His fingers reached back to her clit. He had left them lonely for several long moments and she knew she did not disappoint him when he discovered all the sweet juices her lonely pussy had released in the absence of his fingers, waiting for him. Her excitement was dripping down her thighs and onto the rooftop. His strong fingers explored her folds, massaging her swollen lips, teasing her opening, probing it, pushing in and withdrawing quickly, leaving her hungry for more.
Their hands moved in perfect unison, every time he rubbed hard on her clit, she put more pressure in her caresses on his cockhead; when he circled her opening, she did the same to his shaft; when she touched his balls, he pinched her clit and made her body jump with pleasure. With his other arm, he held her in his embrace.
“Tell me what you want,” he repeated.
Those simple words gave no rest to her. They also empowered her. Enya realized she liked telling her lovers what she wanted and getting it from them.
“I want to see the dragon and the stars as you fuck me,” she said.
He shifted behind her, rising to his knees. Enya winced as his manhood slid free from her grip. Her pussy was also abandoned and left alone against the cool touch of the wind.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
He helped her to lower her back until she felt the cold touch of the roof against her. It was so much nicer when she was leaning against his chest. Now, as he spread her legs and knelt between them, so close to her aching pussy, a perfect view of his upper body opened in front of her eyes.
“Place your hands under your head and don’t move them,” he told her.
Enya did as he asked. Grabbing her hips, he helped her lift her legs and spread them wide apart.
Enya felt her face blush with embarrassment. With her legs in the air so widely open, they had formed a V frame through which she would watch him. Her folds were open and exposed to him. Her breasts stood proud and erect, with nipples pink because of all the excitement they got, blushing under his gaze hidden behind those glasses.
He did not hurry. Every time he eased himself a little bit into her heat, he pulled back and Enya whimpered as the emptiness inside her was becoming unbearable. Every time his cockhead laid at her opening, her insides quivered ready to swallow him in. He pushed inside her, halfway, and pulled back. Enya thought that not only his eyes but also the bright green eyes of the dragon were staring at her. She was getting so impatient, she tried lifting her ass and thrusting into him but the strong hands at her hips held her in place.
“Relax, beautiful,” he spoke to her. “Lie back and enjoy.”
And then he was inside her again and pushed all the way in. Enya’s back arched. He grew even larger when buried inside her. She felt so full that even breathing was an effort. He did not move until the tension left her body and she relaxed under the double-gazes piercing her to the rooftop. Varying the speed and depth of his thrusts he took his pleasure driving Enya mad with desire to explode around him. He was skilled enough to not let her rush with it.
Washed in the lights of the city, he made love to her unhurriedly. His grip on her hips was hard and Enya knew he was going to leave a new set of marks on her. His breathing grew ragged and it seemed like the dragon was flapping its wings as it flew out of the fire. The flames and ashes also came to life as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing.
He placed one of her legs on his shoulder and used his free hand to rub her clit driving her wild.
Thrusting into her deep and fast now, and teasing her clit mercilessly, he pushed Enya further and further into the land of blissful pleasure. She exploded first and as her pussy shook and quivered around him, he thrust harder and harder and harder until she felt his hot essence fill her body.
“Thomas,” Enya screamed in bliss as her body shook in the aftershocks of her orgasm and as he shot strings of his cum inside her. She was not sure why she called that name but she knew that was the only name that came to her mind, the only person she needed right now.
“I am right here, darling,” he said and collapsed on top of her.
It took several long moments for Enya’s mind to recover from the maddening orgasm and for the words to sink into her conscience. She did not ask who he was, he did not deny being someone else. He hugged and kissed her and called her ‘darling’ as only Thomas Silversson did.
Enya’s hand, still trapped under her head, moved before she knew what she was doing. She pulled off the mask and the glasses to find a pair of vibrant green eyes staring at her, those eyes that she loved and hated so much. Those lips, the very same ones that she had been dreaming about for so many days, crushed against her mouth and stole a kiss from her before she could speak a word.
Confused and filled with anger, Enya wrapped her arms around Thomas’ neck. She did not feel relief from the realization that she was in his arms again. The world just grew darker and the pain of being deceived filled her.
She let herself enjoy another moment in his embrace. He buried his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply. His body shook feverishly, his grip tightened. They lay on the roof in silence. There were no words that could fill the void between them, no words to make things right.
Enya did not find the words even after she got up, put her clothes on and left. He did not say anything either. The sound of their silence was all that filled this night. The night of their farewell.
18
How many times could one idiot lose the woman he loved? Enya had given him one chance after another to at least try and make things right. As if that was not enough,
she had given those chances to him as Thomas and as L.
L. was tired of counting how many times he had screwed up his sole chance for happiness. Yes, it was not going to be easy but that was not her fault. He was the one with messy past, double-identity that even he was starting to get confused about and the insatiable hunger for destroying what other people held dear. He was a mess who had not appreciated the love of the one woman that mattered to him.
One night after the other L. had been spending in the streets. Twelve nights and nine pieces of rage-filled street art were made from the moment Enya turned away from him and left him alone on the rooftop. He tried to spill out everything that made him angry, tried to turn his rage into colors and shapes. None of that was enough to calm him.
More than ever in his life, L. was mad at himself and who he had become during these years. When she had come to him, to L., searching for comfort and understanding, he thought she had chosen him. She had seen through his shield and reached for his true self. He was flattered that she had chosen the artist, the rebel, the lone wolf that was his true self. Yet, she had screamed his given name which caught him off guard in the moment of bliss. At that moment, she had still desired the other him, the arrogant jerk Silversson who had stripped her of what was the dearest to her.
He was not mad at her. However hard he tried to separate his one persona from the other, he was getting more and more tangled in the mess of his thoughts and emotions. He was one body, one soul and nothing was going to be right until he found that damned peace inside himself.
For years that struggle had been internal. Olivia had tried to help him, but could never reconcile the two identities. When it had not worked, she had turned to professional help. That had made him even angrier. Separating his one part from the other had been the one solution that had worked until now. Until the day when the woman who stole his heart fell for both men what lived inside him.
Now, Thomas told himself. Go and sort that mess out.
Tonight, L. saw what needed to be done clearly. He knew he could paint every single wall in this city but the city was not the target of his rage. He was. He directed his steps to the one location which could satisfy the anger blooming in his dark heart. He had created his own monster that was Thomas L. Silversson. He was the only person who could destroy him.
While on his way, he made necessary arrangements. It was not the easiest thing to attack the empire he had raised himself. First, L. called the head of security. He told him he needed all the lights of the headquarter to be turned off and everyone evacuated from the building, every single security guard who was there had to be moved to the other offices in the city.
That was a bizarre request, he knew it. Lucky for himself, Thomas L. Silversson’s voice could intimidate anyone, and even the former marine veteran who was now the head of his security did not question his command.
Second, L. stopped at the first hardware store he could find and bought out their inventory of spray paint. The image that he had in his mind was huge. He wanted to cover the windows of the sixty-ninth floor entirely. The very same floor where Enya and Thomas had met, face to face, as business rivals. If he had not been so full of himself and told her who he was in the elevator, things could’ve been different now.
Not that different, he discarded his own vain hope.
By the time he came to the building, the Silversson Industries tower was completely sunk in the darkness. Not a single bulb was lit, not a breathing soul inside its walls. L. punched in his executive control code at the door, allowing him entry and shutting down the alarms and security cameras.
L. entered the building and took the stairs to the sixty-ninth floor. He was going to use the large balcony to climb out onto the narrow platform. Several days ago they had been cleaning the mirror-like walls of that floor. His timing was perfect. The platform was still hanging there and was safely attached to the walls.
His message to himself was also clear. The words had been in his head for days now. He simply could not figure out the place where he needed to paint them. Now, every detail fell into the right place. When lit again, the building was going to feature the words ‘I SURVIVE YOU’ in his signature dragon-style letters.
He was going to survive himself, the wreck of a person he had made himself into. This graffiti was only the first step, but an important one. He had enough paint and time to finish the main painting today. He could add the details to the design later if everything went smoothly.
L. checked the time on this watch. He had five hours till the sunrise. There was no more time to waste. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out to the balcony and climbed onto the platform. One look downstairs at the sleeping city beneath his feet, and he knew how right this decision was. The feeling of endless flight and freedom filled him. For the first time in so many weeks, L. breathed and the fresh night air filled his lungs with the arousing smell of freedom.
It was three hours later and almost two-third of work completed when L. heard the police sirens. He was never afraid of getting caught, as he never used much light which could give him away. Now, on the platform on the sixty-ninth floor in the middle of the night, there was almost no chance that anyone could’ve noticed him and called the police. He decided to wait for one minute until they passed.
However the police sirens only grew louder until the cars stopped right in front of the building. This was not a false alarm, they were coming after him. L. shook his head. He had been a street artist for two decades of his life and had never been arrested, had never even been close to caught. But now, as he was painting the building he owned the police were on his doorstep.
Still, there was no way to prove it. He was not going to admit who he was. He was careful enough not to carry any documents with him. That could destroy Silversson Industries and get him into serious trouble. As much as he intended was to bring his own empire down, a scandalous revelation that the billionaire owning half of the city also owned half of the street art in it was not his plan. This was a secret that was never going to reach the public. He had made sure nobody but his grandmother and his most trusted lawyer knew about it.
L. did not resist when the police stormed into the offices on the 69th floor. He silently let the officers cuff his wrists and lead him to the car. Sebastian, the only person among his lawyers’ team who knew about his secret lifestyle was currently overseas supervising some deal of Silversson Industries. That left only Olivia to come and bail him out when he was allowed to make a call.
L. refused to tell them his name or to give any information until then. He knew he was making it worse for himself refusing to tell his name, but that was his only chance of getting out of this situation and clearing out the mess without much noise and public attention.
Not finding any personal belongings on him, the police threw the street artist into a cell while they figured out what to do with him. The four hours that L. spent detained until he was allowed to make a call, turned out to be quite productive for his self-destructive plans. He had enough time to reflect on the whole situation and figure out his next steps. Silversson Industries was going down but, as always, he needed to do it with style. L. sat silently in his cell, devising his plan with a slight smirk upon his lips.
The middle-aged police officer gave him a suspicious look. L could guess it was not so often he saw people silently smirking while arrested for destroying the property belonging to one of the most influential businessmen in the city.
“Are you on drugs, son?” the officer asked. They had tested him earlier, so the question carried more of a rhetorical nature.
“Never been more sober, sir,” L. answered happily.
Finally, the police allowed L. to make his call. He called Olivia and made sure she spoke very carefully, to avoid giving away unnecessary information. Without names or context he asked her to come and see what she could do with this situation.
His grandmother arrived an hour later. He knew she was mad at him the moment he met her eyes. She did
not speak until she was sure they were alone in the room.
“Thomas Luis Silversson,” his grandmother crossed her arms over her chest. “You have outdone yourself this time.”
“I’m glad I can still surprise you, Grams. Just call me L. while here. Just in case.”
“I’ve tried to reach Sebastian, but his phone was off. I left several messages to him. How are you going to get out this without exposure?”
That was Sebastian’s problem. That was why he paid him a six-digit salary every month. So that Thomas didn’t have to give a shit how the guy solved the most unsolvable problems for him.
“Can you get me out of here before he’s back?” he asked Olivia.
“Darling, you refuse to tell them your name and show any identification, how do you expect an elderly woman who also refuses to tell her last name to get you out of here?”
L. sighed, she was right. He was going to need Sebastian before he would be set free.
“On the positive side, though, there is still no official complaint from Silversson Industries,” she laughed.
