by Tess Harper
"Oh." He leans forward. His cold nose touches mine. "I'm not used to hearing you say that. You're not normally at a loss for words."
"Well, you're not normally this cocky."
"You're generally pretty good at putting cocky guys in their place."
"You want to be put in your place, David?"
He leans back, grinning. "If it's you doing it, I can't say I'd mind..."
"God," I roll my eyes. Hopefully he doesn't see them flutter. Hopefully he can't hear my heartbeat speeding up. "You're ridiculous."
"I think 'incorrigible' is the word you're looking for. I know how many romance novels you read."
I glare at him. "So, you read them too, then?"
"Absolutely not."
"Oh really? Then how do you know 'incorrigible' is a word they use often?"
The train stops. "Hey look, it's our stop," David steps into the center of the aisle and holds his hand out for me.
I take it. "You still haven't answered my question."
"What's that? The doors are about to close?"
"You still haven't answered my question!" I repeat.
"Huh? Only a few more seconds to get off?"
"David!" I try to swat him and he catches my hand and brings it to his lips. "We really do have only a few--"
The doors close.
"Seconds," he sighs.
The train starts up again. "Hey, if you hadn't evaded my question we would have gotten off in time."
He glances sideways at me. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" I laugh. "Most definitely."
"Well, this way might be better," he says.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. It's only a few blocks out of our way, and it will give you a little extra time to try to get the answers from me as I escort you back to your place."
***
I've tried everything. Threats. Pleas. Promises--some of which I actually kind of intended to keep. He still wont' tell me.
I pull on his arm. "David, you're so mean," I pout.
"Oh, I know I'm mean. I can't believe I'm this mean myself."
"Just tell me," I say.
He stops. Sighs. Looks at me thoughtfully. "You really want to know?"
"Yes I want to know! I've only been asking for the past fifteen minutes!"
He glances at his watch. "It's actually been about forty. Time sure has flown for you. I guess that means you're having a lot of fun."
I lower my voice and infuse it with a tone I hope is sultry. "I'd have even more fun if you told me."
He grins. "But I won't."
I narrow my eyes. "You really are incorrigible."
"Neither of us are as sweet as we pretend to be." He flashes another smile, but this one I can't read. My heart skips as he reaches for my hand. We walk the final block to my dorm in silence.
When we reach the gate in front of my dorm, he stops and lets go of my hand. Then, he leans against it. Ivy curls around his shoulders. He eyes me slyly. "Your friends won't be home for a while."
My throat feels tight. I nod.
"The place is probably pretty empty."
He's right. Almost everyone went to go see their families for turkey day. I'm pretty sure Anna, Cassie, Dolly and me are the only girls left in the building.
Which means...oh my God! He wants me to invite him in! "David..."
"I won't try anything. I can bake you sugar cookies and we can watch The Vampire Diaries or something."
"You'd watch The Vampire Diaries?"
He groans. "It wouldn't be my first choice, but you're into that show, aren't you?"
Him suffering through Vampire Diaries sounds nice. He must know about my sadistic streak. He probably knows almost everything about me, and still... "David, I just don't think..."
"I know. You love him." He leans over and kisses the top of my head. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I'll give you as much as you let me give, and I don't mind waiting. I love you, Laura. I've pretty much loved you from the moment I saw you."
I shiver everywhere. I want to return his feelings completely. I feel like I could someday, hopefully someday soon. But I'm not ready yet.
"We don't have to date yet, or anything official," he explains. "I just want you to consider me. And I'm giving you a friendly warning that from here on out, yeah, I'm going to be a little more obvious with my attempts to get into your pants...as in I'm probably going to take every chance I get."
I raise my eyebrows and laugh. I can't believe he just said that to me. "That's a little crass, David."
"I'm a guy. I'm a little dirtier than you want me to be. But you don't have to worry, because it's always about making you feel good."
"I'll remember everything you've said. I had fun tonight."
He gives me another little smile and leans forward.
My eyes shut just as his lips touch mine. The kiss is sweet and chaste. It shouldn't make me feel giddy or restless, but it does. It gives me the same warm, happy feeling I get when my first shot of tequila starts to sink in. And for a moment, I want to sit there, drinking him in, until everything else in the world fades.
He pulls back first. His eyes are dark and he's breathing a little heavily. I'm glad I wasn't the only one so strangely affected. "Goodnight, my lady," he says.
Chapter 21
I enter the dark dorm. No one else is home, just as I expected. I set down my cello case in the hall, enter the piano room, and lean against the wall.
My chest hurts.
Everything feels so perfect. So right. I can still feel David's lips pressed to my forehead, or rather my skin still tingles from his touch. I can still taste that brief bout of rain that had teased us when we left the museum.
So why do I hurt?
I should have let David come in. I bet he's still out there. I could run outside, grab him and take him upstairs. He'd let me get into his pants. When he's here, I don't feel like this; I don't need like this.
But I don't move. Instead I close my eyes. Something about this place reminds me of that other man I never really knew. Maybe it's because I'm alone. With him, I was always alone.
It doesn't matter. I want him so bad. Even though he abandoned me, I love him. Or maybe it's wrong to call his leaving an abandonment since he didn't want me back.
My legs are slick with desire. I'm back in front of all those people again at the Guggenheim. I'm imagining he's out there, that he can hear my voice. I'm singing all the words I'm afraid to admit just for him.
My cunt is so fucking sore I want to slip my hands beneath my skirt and start to touch myself. Instead I walk into the room, humming and trying not to cry. I'm trying so hard to love David. It would be so easy to love David. He would never hurt me, and I never want to hurt him. He's perfect in every way I've always wanted.
So why do I keep sinking back into the dark?
My body aches where that stranger filled me, and nothing--not the sound of rain, the sound of honking, or the sound of my own breath--can bring me back to reality. It only creates an ambiance of distance and longing that consumes me.
I almost laugh. God, I'm pathetic. I should really throw away all his letters, not keep them under the bed like a freak. It's not like I don't have most of them memorized anyway.
I walk over to the piano and rest my fingers on the keys. I'm not good at playing piano, not like David or anyone who's spent years practicing, but I'm alright. I shut my eyes, humming louder as I move my hands over the keys.
Something rustles behind me. I yelp as I turn to find someone sitting in the chair across from me.
I glance down, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't see you. I'll go." I step towards the door.
"Laura."
I stop. I can't breathe. What are you doing here? How the hell did you get in? Where have you been? There are a thousand questions I should ask, but I can't say a single thing because and all my aching and longing comes back. It fills me so much that I can't move--can't do anything but stupidly search for that face I know I won'
t find in the dark.
He doesn't move either. I hear his lips open. "Did you have fun tonight?"
Yes. It feels like betrayal to say it. All the places where David touched me--my back, my wrists, my forehead--burn. But not as much as the one place David touched with an intimacy that would be impossible for one who wears a mask to duplicate: my lips.
"I asked you a question."
He sounds angry. It scares me. Shouldn't my eyes have adjusted to the dark already? I can see so little in the room. My friends and I often hang out in this place. This is where I meet up with other girls from my dorm. Where we talk about small towns back home, big city dreams and failures, and boys.
I swallow. "Yes. I had a good time." I don't see any point in lying. I don't have anything to hide. I've always been open with him, no matter how much it hurt.
He stands. He's taller than I remember, maybe because the room is small and familiar and intimate. In the auditorium he always seemed far away. Even when he was breathing right by my ear and pressing into my body, I could look out into the darkness and see nothing.
Now, I see nothing but him.
He steps forward. Though he moves slowly, it takes almost no time to reach me.
Instinctively, I step back. My palms slam down on the piano. It's old and out of tune.
He takes his last step and grabs my hips.
The piano chimes angrily as he pushes my ass into the keys. The music stand digs into the small of my back. His fingers are beneath me, as cold and hard as ivory.
"You let him touch you."
It isn't a question. I wonder how he knows. "I only kissed--"
"He puts one hand on your cheek and the other on your breast as he dragged his mouth over your jaw." The skin below my ear tingles as his breath fans over the left side of my neck. "You brought your hands to his shoulders, as if to pull him down closer, and he grabbed them and pinned them to the table at your hips, just like this."
He lets go of my wrists and runs his hands down my arms. He's cutting off the circulation to my wrists. Your grip is tighter, I want to say. It's nothing like his. But I can only breath heavily as he parts my thighs with his knee and sinks between them. My dress slides up to my waist. His erection presses his zipper to my damp panties.
"I want you," he says. It isn't a question or a statement, but a plea. I roll my head back. I swear I can see the intensity of his gaze through the mask.
I spread my legs, sliding my cunt over his zipper.
He groans. "Laura."
I want him too. It hurts to admit just how much. Any action I take will feel like a betrayal. My body wants him, but if I give in now I'm betraying David and that fragile happiness that has always eluded me. I still remember him in the rain, the taste of his lips--I can still taste both those things on my tongue.
I've never even truly kissed this man. He's done nothing but hide himself from me. It's not fair for him to show up now after being silent for so long to claim me like this. To remind me how much I want him even though I know I shouldn't.
I should push him away. I want someone whose face I can hold in my hands. I want someone whose name I can whisper as we lay beside each other in bed. I want to run my fingers through his hair and look into his eyes.
David wants to give that to me. He can give it to me. From this man I receive nothing except an emptiness only he can briefly fill.
And then I remember his letters. The longing in his voice. The longing I can feel even now as he touches me. His raw desire calls me like a siren. Even if it's false I can't stop myself. I want to be that one to draw him back into the light. I want him to fulfill these dark needs inside me. I want to dissolve into him, even if it can only be in darkness and will only make me want and dream of more.
Perhaps his words cast a spell on me. Perhaps this isn't really me doing and feeling these things, but some alien spirit he conjured within me. Or maybe it's a part of me he unlocked. In the end it doesn't matter. I can't stay away. I can't deny him anything.
I run my hand down the tough, hard muscles of his stomach. David was sculpted everywhere, like a marble statue. This man is more like frayed rope and steel. There are scars there, old and new. I didn't see any evidence of scars when I removed his mask, but I wonder if his face is scared and that's why he doesn't want me to see it.
Slowly, I grip his cock through his pants.
He groans and his fingers dig into me, hard. I squeeze harder, jerking him through his pants. My fist bumps my cunt and I press forward, already aching for him.
He leans against my hips. I feel his teeth through his mask, brushing against that sensitive part of my neck between my ear and jaw. I want him to bite down--for his mouth to be as rough as his hands. "On the bench," he says as he steps back and pulls the bench out.
It takes a moment for me to get down from the piano. I straddle it and lean over, resting my elbows on the bench. My toes barely touch the floor.
He runs his hands up my bare legs. "Do you think of him at night when you're alone in your room? Do you think of him when you sing? Is that why your voice was so full of longing?"
I was thinking of you. How you left without a word. How much the thought of never seeing you again devastated me. I've come to need you, and it scares me. I don't like placing a part of my happiness with someone else. It makes me feel vulnerable, helpless.
But these are words I can never say, especially not when he holds me so roughly, and that vulnerable, helpless part of me finds something pleasing even in that roughness.
"Answer me, Laura. I want to know what can make you sound like that."
I shut my eyes. "I wasn't." My voice is too breathy to be my own. It sounds uncertain, even though I've never been more certain of anything in my life. How can I think of another man after feeling his hands on my skin?
He grips my dress, hard, stretching the fabric over my hips. I shiver everywhere, falling deeper into the memory of his embrace: my dark, demonic, masked lover. "You weren't what?" He asks.
He's moving my dress up. I spread my legs further on the bench. God, if he wanted an answer why did he ask and then do something like that? "I wasn't..." I start, struggling to speak, "thinking..."
Just then, he pushes my dress up over my hips and slips his hand under the elastic band of Dolly's flaming red hoochie panties.
He goes still. Only the cool air filtering through the air conditioning moves.
Fuck. He's gonna think I went out with the intention of getting some. In this case, even a little bit of hooch is still too much hooch!
I hear him swallow. "Did you wear these for someone in particular tonight, Laura?"
"Uh..." Would he believe me if I said no, or would he just think I'm trying to cover something up? Shit!
The bench creaks as he gets on it behind me. "Who did you wear them for?"
Damn. It's probably too late for me to tell him the truth, but I do anyway. "Dolly."
The bench stops creaking as he goes still. "Your roommate?"
"Yes." Then I realize what he might be thinking. "I mean, she and I aren't like that...not that it would be bad if either of us was, it's just we're not..." I inhale sharply. "We're both into guys is what I'm saying." Or at least trying to say.
He leans forward and takes my panties in his fist. "Why did you wear these for her?"
"She just wanted to make sure I had a good time," I whisper.
"A good time with that guy you were with?"
Oh god. I have a sinking feeling I've just made things worse. Actually, I know I have, especially if I answer the next question honestly.
My throat goes tight. "Everyone likes David."
He wraps his arm around my stomach. Slowly, he runs his middle finger from my belly to my clit.
I suck in a breath. I try to squeeze my legs together but his other hand slips between my thighs, stopping me. He presses against my clit slightly, once, twice. I cry as he suddenly takes it between his fingers.
"Do you like David?"
"Yes, but..." I finish with a moan, not even remembering what I wanted to say or if I even said it. He coaxes my clit with agonizing tenderness. Only the roughness of his fingers reminds me that this man isn't gentle, or to be trusted. I shut my eyes. If I'm honest with myself, I'll admit that I don't even want that, anyway.
My desire drips down my legs and onto his hands. The air cools it and all the things I should feel flood my mind: shame, disgust, guilt.
David's warm gaze cuts through my thoughts. I slide my tongue between my lips--those lips he left with a smile and a kiss. I can't taste him anymore. I can barely even remember what they felt like. No, they were soft and pink and warm, the exact opposite of the hard piano bench currently smashing my cheekbones.
The stranger spreads a hand over my ass. He pinches my clit, reminding me me still possesses it--reminding me that shame, disgust, and guilt do not exist in the dark.
"Do you want me to stop?"
My body answers for me. I melt into my dark lover's touch.
"Laura," he reprimands softly, removing his fingers.
I diligently push myself into the heel of his hand. "No."
"You don't want me to stop, but you wish it were him, don't you? You wish you could let him in like this."
It doesn't matter what I want, I couldn't let David in like this. I wouldn't be able to forget with him, and I want to forget. I want that blinding ecstasy more than anything--even something that would make me happy. I push my elbows into the bench and arch my back so it's easier for him to get at me.
His zipper trails up my thigh until it pushes against my warm, aching center. I inhale sharply as cold metal scraps my cunt. He brushes the hair from the nape of my neck and slowly unzips my dress. "Do you think about him doing this to you?"
My hips move back as I try to press myself into his erection, dying for him to take me, but I can't go far. His other hand is on my hips, pushing my pelvis and ribs down onto the bench.
His stomach slips over my naked back. He wraps a hand around my chest, bringing me close. I feel his heart hammering in between my shoulder blades, the length of him twitching between my thighs. He's even bigger than I remembered.
"Do you imagine him when I fuck you, Laura?"
