Secrets She Keeps

by Amarie Avant

My eyes lock onto hers. “Yes. That is all.”

  “Well I want some action too, Evan. I want you to fuck me. I want to taste–”

  I'm out of the seat in seconds. I kiss those words from her mouth, frazzle her brain. Once our lips break away, Reese is panting. Chest rising, falling. Her gaze is feverish.

  “Do as you've been told.”

  Reese licks the taste of my lips from her mouth. I grab her hand, and glide it down to her nether regions. When my thick, strong fingers don’t penetrate her, Reese takes on a look of melancholy enough to break my fucking heart. Oh, well. With no emotion on my face, I inquire, “You’ve never masturbated?”

  She shakes her head no. Again her legs widen, the flower blossoms for me. The pink folds of flesh are silky, wet. I could pound down those walls right now. But I'm a greedy man. I want the ocean I felt the other night.

  Trepidation flies away as her index finger dips into her lustful hole then comes out. Drip. Drip.

  “Taste it.”

  “No,” she scoffs.

  My glower makes Reese pout and her pink tongue dips out to give it the slightest taste.

  “Imagine that your finger is my cock, Reese.”

  The pout deepens. “It's not big enough.”

  I arise and step backward toward the door, ready to make my exit.

  Her pupils dilate in pure frustration yet; Reese allows her tongue to lick from base to fingertip.

  Again, I gesture toward her body, with the nod of my head. She dips her finger inside those glistening, pink folds, but instead of taking that glossy little finger to her mouth, Reese loves herself a bit longer. Jealousy tightens my jaw at her ability to pleasure herself. Then again, her finger is lifted to her mouth. Drip. Drop. Drip. Reese moans at the taste as if her pussy is some sort of delicate cuisine. Yes, that's the taste I’m going for.

  As she licks her sweets, I unzip my pants. Like a feral animal, Reese eyes my junk as it pops up, erect as ever. Those large, dark-brown eyes are full of anticipation. She whimpers while licking her finger but doesn't beg.

  I nod my head. To her knees she goes. With the same meticulous care, Reese's tongue strokes up my shaft. Then the wet tip of her tongue glides across my pre-cum, savoring the taste. She looks up at me, with the taste of my pre-cum at the tip of her tongue and grins.

  “I get all the sweets,” she murmurs before getting back to work. And if I thought my dick was rock-hard before, it's aching with the need to explode in her mouth. But that's not allowed. There's simply too many places my cock needs to go first. My fingertips grip through Reese's hair, she's got me at my brink. But she sits up on her knees just in time.

  My hand clamps softly on her neck. “Is my pussy as sweet as I require it to be?”

  “Yes, Evan.”

  I nuzzle her jawline with kisses and squeeze her neck just slightly. “You sure?”

  “It tasted like pure sugar before, Evan. When I started sucking your cock, I got even wetter.”

  “Good.” I take her hand and walk her back to the bed. Reese's eyes stay locked on mine, ready to do my bidding. I cup her breast, letting my thumb glide over her hardened nipple. Her breath is warm, tingling on my skin. She wants a kiss but we're in the training stages.

  “Fuck me, Evan,” she beseeches. The tone of her voice has my cock thumping against my leg. Like a dog ready to attack. Yet my smile fades.

  “When I say we're meeting tonight, what does that mean?” My voice is chilled, low, steely, and the hardness of these words breaks our connection. I'm no longer touching her. Reese's body is screaming for the faintest caress.

  “Th... that we’re meeting. Evan, I'm sorry.”

  “Damn right you are, the agnolotti-bolognese is getting cold. If I have to warm it up…”

  Chapter 10

  Reese

  “If I have to warm it up...” He had said.

  I want to scream. Cuss. Cry. Thank God Evan was smart enough not to bring his gun holster. I gulp just fathoming the amount of time one gets for attempting to murder a cop. Claiming insanity should work in my favor because he said "if I have to warm it up,” then he stopped. Why did he stop? The mystery is breaking my friggen heart!

  I had hastily shrugged into a pair of boyfriend jeans, a white camisole, and beige cardigan.

  Now we’re on the ride over. The music is down, and the silence is deafening as I burrow my fidgeting fingers into my thin cardigan. I've dreaded knowing what's going to happen if the agnolotti-bolognese has gotten cold. Will it hurt... Hmmm, Evan can fuck me till I'm brain-dead.

  The doorman has a good memory or he glanced at his notepad in his pocket while standing posted at the door. He greets me by name. “Miss Dunham, good evening.” And to Evan, he nods, “Zaccaro.”

  “You're nervous?” Evan mentions as the elevator doors swoosh closed.

  I lean against the golden wall and sardonically say, “Yeah, I don't want to upset you. Who knows what you've in mind as punishment.”

  The elevator doors spring open. “Trust me, I've got it all planned out.” His voice is trained with no emotion and I laugh, a mixture of nerves, anticipation, desire, fear.

  When we make it into his studio, my breath escapes as the sight of downtown Los Angeles comes into view. The bold flavors from the dining area makes my eyebrows rise. The tapered candles have gone out. But the glossy white table is set with enough food for a feast, each of the entrées are covered by silver domes. I’m half expecting a butler, for some reason in an all-white penguin suit and white gloves to magically appear.

  Evan pulls out the high-back white leather chair, and I mumble my thanks while wondering if he ever would allow ten people over for dinner. There are ten chairs, but this is the spiffiest man cave ever. Yet, there’s enough food. “Well, were you cooking for me or thinking about your various ménage a trois.”

  “Haha, my usual guests would be too worried about the carbohydrates.”

  Though Evan is honest, I quip, “Carbs, I detest that word. I prefer the synonym: heaven.”

  He places his hand on the side of one of the silver domes. “Lukewarm.”

  “Are you going to beat me?” The left side of my mouth hitches with anticipation.

  “I should. The food tastes better hot.”

  “Those are my thoughts exactly. I whole-heartedly agree with any form of punishment you wish to relay.”

  His eyes lock onto mine for a second. I wonder his thoughts since his facial expression is so clear.

  Evan lifts one of the silver domes, and the agnolotti-bolognese is food-magazine worthy. He starts to scoop it out, but I move my plate away.

  “No friggen way, buddy. Despite my consenting to your power trip, I am not like any of your usual playthings. I'll make my plate. I save my carb calories for good eats. If it's good, I’ll eat.” There's the faintest smile on his face.

  I opt for a small size and grab the tiniest piece of garlic bread. As the fork touches my mouth for the first bite, thyme and other flavorful ingredients burst into my mouth. I moan, and allow my bottom to slide down the chair. Evan becomes entertained by my reaction. After I’ve had my moment, I sit up and force myself not to shovel agnolotti-bolognese too quickly into my mouth.

  Evan’s still on his first round when I pick up the serving fork. So let’s just say someone can burn in the kitchen.

  “I'll take it that I've passed?” His eyebrow rises triumphantly.

  Not quite finished piling a tiny mountain onto my square plate, I snort, “Yes. Please give the restaurant my praise.”

  “I didn't order out.”

  “Your maid...”

  “My maid only comes once a week to shine shit and feather dust. I'd go hungry waiting to be fed.”

  “Errr. Your abuelita?” I pause, and shake my head of all my Spanglish friends. Then wrack my brain for the term “grandma” in Italian. Every once in a while, Milo called his grandma in my presence. A few times I was even permitted to speak with her. Nonna is what he called her, I think. With a grin, I say,
“Your sweet, little nonna?”

  “Reese, I cooked. One day I'll have a wife and children to feed.”

  I stop piling seconds on my plate. “C’mon now, let's keep it strictly business.”

  “We're past the business portion, Reese. It wasn't an hour ago when we agreed to a new arrangement.”

  My eyes roll away from his as I know exactly what Evan is bringing up. His "you jump" followed by my, "how high" response. There'll be no delving in intimate territories, talk of building families and the likes. The last time I engaged in a chat regarding the building of a nuclear family, it was with the friggen ex-Suit. We finished each other’s sentences for Christ’s sake. I’m adamant that it was true love and tiny, invisible aliens took over my ex’s body, wrote the breakup email and erased his mind of me… So, this touchy ass subject is off limits, way off limits.

  “Well, Detective Zaccaro, dinner was lovely. Tupperware might make it even better,” I say arising, “If you’re willing. I'll call Uber downstairs.”

  “Hmmm, this is almost like déjà vu. You’ve got that ‘running away’ thing down pat?”

  My bottom lip drops. I take a good, long sip of wine then narrow my eyes at him. “Evan, don’t go there. I am not run–”

  “Like I just said, remember our first night?” He asks, mouth cocked to the left. “In your haste to get away from me, you broke one of my art pieces.”

  I take a deep breath. “And I apologized.”

  “Then we spent the entire night talking, and the daybreak having wild, crazy sex, Reese.” Evan stands up, he steps behind me. The strength of his hands kneading the tension at my shoulders, makes my head lull and eyes flutter closed. I moan deeply as Evan mentions how we connected. “Then you tried to run away from me again.” He reaches over, as my head tips back more. Our mouths unite.

  God, I wish it were easy to tell Evan about my reason for running away. Before my dad’s post-morbid eyes can flash before my face, I grab Evan’s face. I concentrate on the man who should be taboo. Stepbrother. Suit. Italian. Cop.

  I need this.

  I kiss away the blues from being ten and going through the motions of no longer having a parent in your life. It's like missing a rib. No matter Milo’s many faults, I love my father to this day. And the look in Evan’s eyes tells me his mother loved him ten times more than my crazy father ever loved me. He opened up, and told me about a death of a parent, about losing a large piece of him.

  My hand is still caressing Evan’s cheek, as I sink back in the chair to look him in the eyes.

  Evan begins to kneel. He pulls up my camisole and plants a trail of love from his gratifying lips down my stomach and to the top of my jeans. Evan has to peel the jeans off of me one hip at a time. With a shaded, lustful gaze, he stops before getting the pants all the way off to palm my curvy flesh. Finally, I help by pressing one heel at the other pant leg until I can kick off my jeans. Then Evan bites onto the top of my thong. His nose nudges between my thighs.

  “Fuck, your scent is always so sweet,” as he speaks, my legs weaken.

  When Evan stands, my heart clutches. My nectar percolates as he slides his hand into my panties. His palm cups my pulsating mound. And then his fingers delve into silk curls before reaching my clit. His thumb strums the tiny bulb and my labia quivers.

  “Just like that, Reese’s Pieces, you’re so fucking wet for me.” He murmurs in my ear. No one has ever used my nickname in this manner, but I have no objection.

  He takes my waist and twirls me around. His hand skims the flesh between my thighs. His thumb pops up in pursuit of my treasure but I internally curse myself for having worn panties, hell, having dressed in anything at all. Would it have been too presumptuous of me to have headed over here wrapped in just my shower towel? Wow, that was a very half-baked thought. But this is what Evan does, he scrambles my brain.

  Evan’s thumb strums against the thin, silky shield that is my panties. “Let me fuck you by the window.”

  My mouth floods with saliva, ever agreeable, I flock behind him toward the glass wall. The scene which took my breath away doesn’t compare to a single touch from him. My hands plant against the chilled window, a reprieve from the way Evan touches my body since the entire surface of my skin has set on fire with desire. Evan’s body presses against my back. My hips slowly lift magnetized by the arousal of his erection. He kisses the back of my neck, allowing his dick to slam against my ass.

  A sharp breath escapes my mouth, fogging up the windows. Must I beg for the pain? Large fingers reach around me and then back into my panties as Evan finally pulls them down. I kick the thong away.

  When I stand again, Evan’s Italian loafer swipes at the inside of my feet.

  My mouth cocks to the left. “Bad cop, eh?”

  CLAP. His hand swats at my ass, gripping the thick fleshiness. Sheesh, the pain sparks from the center point of my pussy and expands. By the time it reaches my hair follicles and toes, I’m all tingly and in agreement with… more… pain.

  I can hear Evan pulling off his belt. His slacks fall. I turn to get a look at the magnificent, marble-carved shaft, but his steely voice says, “Eyes forward, Miss Dunham.”

  I giggle, imagining Evan pulling me over as a rookie. I know he’s handling his cock when he groans, my ass tilts for his incentive. Another hard clap makes my honey flow even more. Evan eases his slick, hard cock inside of me. I try to open my legs wider for ease of access.

  “Do not move,” he orders. “Reese, your pussy is squeezing my cock perfectly.”

  Helpless and hopelessly, I attempt to clutch at the cool glass wall to no avail. Bright, twinkling lights of downtown display off in the distance, and I moan at the magnificence before me and behind me.

  Evan leans forward. His cock goes deep as his lips caress the soft shell of my ear. “Someone must be watching…”

  He can read my mind. My dirty, dirty mind.

  “Whoever it is, is envious of your beauty. They’re surveying those perfect nipples plastered against the wall.” He reaches around and toys with my clit, “They’ve eyed the beautiful mound of your soft pussy, not like I’ve eyed the lustrousness of it though. They’re wishing they were handling you but your come is glossed all over my dick.”

  “I don’t… I don’t care, Evan. I just want you to fuck me.” I beg as his cock caresses my body ever so softly. In and out, so very slowly, gauging exactly where my g-spot is. Then Evan gives a hard thrust.

  “Yes!”

  “What’s my name, beautiful?” Another hard thrust brings tears to my eyes.

  “Yes, yes! Don’t stop!” I gasp.

  “Reese,” Evan toys with my clit once more, his words glide against the silky flesh patch behind my ear as he commands, “Say my name, beautiful.”

  I begin to pant, beg, plead, “Evan, please…”

  I shiver in anticipation as his member slides out of me, then slams in me once more. Moaning with the need to be fucked hard and fast, I lose myself as Evan slides his palms up and down my back, manipulating the muscles along my spine. My lower back arches. He cups my ass and gives another thrust. A jolt zips through my body.

  “God, your pussy is soaked,” Evan hisses through gritted teeth. I’m in sheer heaven as his muscle stretches my insides with each drive. Tilting my hips as much as I can, I welcome the depth of his long, thick cock. Then Evan stays there. His dick living within my wet walls. My breaths are ragged against the glass window. Perspiration fogging and evaporating. Lips chilled by the touch of the glass.

  As his arms wrap around me, chest against my back, I feel his wild heartbeat pound against me. Thank God my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I am unable to speak the words. I love you, Evan. Every single word is a lie, a lie I’ve never said, but they’re fitting words for this moment. They’re peppered with my thanks and awe.

  It has to be the sex. I bite my lip as Evan continues with the deep penetration. He’s incited nerve endings I had no idea even existed. Now his stomach is slapping against m
y ass, as he fucks me harder. The friction of his cock going in and out, ever so quickly, and the tunneling of the head of his cock back into my body makes me scream his name. “EVAN!”

  “Fuck,” he slams into me. Evan’s words are colorful, primitive, and not auditory as we convulse. I literally shatter, while we give into one last orgasm.

  Tonight Evan had carried my body to bed. I’d wanted the continual, crazy sex that we had on our supposed ‘one-night stand.’ I craved the hard fuck, the de-stresser he is such a guru at providing.

  Somehow, we just lie in bed, molded into each other. The sheets from a few days ago have been replaced by royal blue ones. The fresh linen scent entwines with the taste of our sex mingling together. Evan’s fingertips brush lightly over the side curve of my breast, down my waist, to my hip. My mind is on alert, not in a tensed type of way, it's just encouraging my heart to come alive, to recall what it feels like to fall in love. No, that can't be true, why would my heart turn traitor to reality? This man’s life is perfect, he saves people… So yeah, I’m the stupid one. So used to saving myself, my mother, and being strong. Now, I stupidly enjoy this untouchable man. Where I'm from, there's no such thing as a hero…

  I don’t know how long he’s been caressing my skin. The heaviness of my eyelids ceases as Evan’s words pull me back from the tranquil slumber.

  “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he murmurs against my ear.

  I turn around and snuggle up beside him. My eyes search his soft brown ones. “You always say I’m so sweet.”

  “Are you taking offense to it?” Evan kisses my forehead.

  My mouth opens. Just the mention of Milo Gianni Benincassa’s name would rectify any confusion of me being ‘sweet.’ And I don’t want that, I want what we have, this is perfect. Whatever this is, no-strings attached.

  Evan’s lips sweep over my forehead. “You smell like sugar, or vanilla, or chocolate, or some other form of sweets, Reese. Every single moment in your presence, I just want to devour your entire body.”

  His growl makes me tingle in delight.