by Colt, Elodie
Alas, I will never know who he is, either. What his hair looks like when it flops over his forehead. What his big, strong hands look like when they span over my ribcage. What his broad, muscled shoulders look like when they strain under his skin. Or what his rings look like when they grip my chin in a tight hold, trapping me as he pounds into me with his long, thick cock—one that I will never get to see, either.
“Focus, Ella,” I scold myself and then fetch the package of cayenne pepper, careful not to overdo it like last time.
Ross told me that he liked spicy food, too, so I figured we could start our third date with dinner, something that turned out to be a challenge when I stood in front of the shelf of Hot’n’Spiky, racking my brain about what to cook that we could eat with our fingers in the dark.
He seems to like the playful side of me, and it’s the first time I feel somewhat confident embracing new challenges knowing that, whatever I do, it will never escape the safe walls and the complete darkness of The Room. So, I wanted to spice things up by putting on this silly Halloween costume, even though I had never worn a costume in my life, not even when I was a kid and Mom wanted me to dress up for Maslenitsa—a carnival celebrated in the Eastern Slavic region. Zoya would jump through the roof if she knew I borrowed Holly’s devil costume just to put on a show for Ross, which is why I made Holly promise me to keep this between us.
My phone chirps, and I throw the chopped onions into the pot before I glance at the caller. It’s Kate.
I answer the phone. “Hi, Kate.”
“Ella, my dear,” she greets in a cheery tone. “I just wanted to check in with you and see how things are going with your match?”
Pressing my phone between my ear and shoulder, I grab a wooden spoon and stir the bubbling sauce.
“Uh, good. Great, actually.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says. “I just saw you’re meeting tonight for your third date. I take it you’re happy with your match, then?”
Match. I hate that term. As if Ross is just a rival fighting for the highest number on my board.
Because that’s what he is.
And that’s what you are, too.
“Yeah, we’re getting along just fine.”
“Great. I’m happy to hear it, Ella. Do you want to keep it at that, or would you like me to set up a meeting with one of your other matches?”
I stuff the spoon into the pot and turn around, perching against the counter. “Sorry, I don’t understand. I thought I could only date one match at a time.”
Kate huffs a soft laugh. “You can date everyone from your list at any time. Remember, Ella, Silent Sins keeps all of this confidential.”
A vein in my temple starts to tick, and I grip the counter as I replay her words.
“No,” I snap before I rephrase in a gentler tone, “I mean, no, thanks, I don’t want to meet anyone else.”
“Alright.” There’s a slap as if Kate just shut a folder. “If you need anything, just give me a ring. Oh, and please don’t forget your mandatory HIV test appointment next week.”
“Yeah, bye.”
I absently set my phone on the counter, staring off into space. A few minutes pass while I stand there, motionless, until the sauce bubbling behind me nearly boils over.
“Shit…”
After I finish preparing dinner, I toss the dishtowel onto the counter and trudge over to the fridge to grab a bottle of ice-cold vodka. Not bothering to fetch a glass, I unscrew the cap and take three huge gulps.
‘You can date everyone from your list at any time.’
And Ross can date everyone, too.
~~~
The security guy narrows his eyes at me before they flick down to the ball of tinfoil in my hands.
“It’s just food,” I grumble, unwrapping it so he can be assured that I haven’t packed a grenade.
Squinting, he leans closer and sniffs. I roll my eyes.
“Here.” I grab a taco and a napkin, pressing both into his hand. “Careful—hot.”
Not waiting for his approval, I shuffle past him into the changing room and use the remaining minutes to tame my hair still moist from the drizzling rain.
I’m rocking the frizzy look tonight. After attacking my mane with a brush, it becomes clear that it’s a lost cause, so I apply some oil to keep the strands from sticking into every direction.
When it’s time to enter the cozy bubble, I swipe my bracelet over the scanner and cut the lights, letting the darkness and familiar scent of deodorizers engulf me. The tinfoil crunches in my hand as my feet bury in the plush carpet, and my eyes scan the space for the familiar glow of Ross’ bracelet. He’s not here yet, and a pang of disappointment hits me when I see that the lights are off in his changing room, which can only mean one thing: he ditched me.
“Are you looking for me?”
Shrieking, I jump a foot in the air as he rocks up from my left. The bastard was already waiting next to my door!
“Are you crazy?” I yell, punching his shoulder. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! You know I’m—”
He muffles my rant with a scorching hot kiss, his hand clutching my neck in an almost bruising hold as his tongue dips into my mouth in nothing short of desperation. It doesn’t take me long to go lax under his attack, and I nearly whimper when he pulls away.
He sniffs the air as he tries to figure out where the scent of turkey and sour cream comes from.
“I’ve brought food,” I say, lifting the tinfoil. “Hungry?”
He laughs, and it’s only now I realize how much I’ve missed his alluring, deep voice.
“You want to eat burgers in here? Might get a little messy.”
“Not burgers. Tacos. Homemade.”
A beat of silence follows before he asks, clearly touched, “You’ve cooked for me?”
“Yeah, I know, not what you’d classify as the perfect dinner for a date, but I figured eating pasta in here without a spoon would have been a disaster.”
He offers me a throaty chuckle before he leads me over to the bed where we plop down on the silky sheets. I like how he positions my legs loosely around his waist as we sit opposite each other, his naked waist warming my calves while his knees cage me in on either side.
“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” he says, at the same time he cracks his knuckles.
I want to crawl out of my skin as the sound grates on my ears.
“Don’t!” I exclaim, my hand shooting out to grab his, and my nails digging into his skin. Gulping, I push the bile back down my throat. “Please, don’t…”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to startle you,” he mumbles, no doubt questioning my strange behavior.
“Just… don’t do that again. Ever,” I whisper, trying to keep the waver from my voice.
He slides his hand from mine and runs a curled finger down my cheek before he leans in, his hard chest pressing against mine as he gives me a feather-light kiss, one that calms my racing heart within the blink of an eye.
“I promise,” he whispers over my lips. “Now, can we eat? I’m starving.”
Quirking my lips, I put the napkins aside and fumble for a taco before I grab his hand so he can curl his fingers around it.
“Let me guess… spicy?” he asks in amusement before he takes his first bite.
“Extra spicy,” I say as I listen to him munching, waiting for him to cough. He doesn’t disappoint, and I giggle.
“Yeah, definitely extra spicy,” he mutters in a hoarse tone. A crunch resounds as he takes another bite. “But really good. In fact, these are the best tacos I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you. Oh, shit…”
There’s a dull thud as a big lump of turkey mix drips from my taco onto the bed, but it’s impossible to clean the mess in the dark. Ross snorts, and another thud resounds as he, too, dribbles sour cream onto the sheets. We both crack up, and I hold my stomach as I fall into a laughing fit.
“The cleaning staff is going to love us,” Ross remarks, re
trieving a water bottle from the fridge and trying to rinse both our hands.
“They already do. Remember when you spilled the champagne on the furry floor?” I laugh, gathering up the foil and wadding it up.
“Thanks for the reminder, honey,” he mumbles, and I try not to make a big deal of how my heart jumps erratically at the sound of the nickname.
“So…” He sinks back down onto the bed and pulls me closer until I’m nestled in between his legs so he can stroke my shins. “Share a secret?”
I smirk, chewing on my lip. “Let’s see, uhm… I’m extremely paranoid and constantly obsessed with my safety.”
Instead of the chuckle I expected to hear, Ross is solemn when he asks, “Any reason for that?”
“Yes,” I say and clear my throat, signaling him to let it slide. I raise my hand to play with the coin-sized, unembellished pendant around his neck. “Tell me about this.”
“The pendant? It was a gift from my father from one of his business trips to Jerusalem.” He pauses to chuckle softly. “I had no clue about its value until I was old and skilled enough to tell that it’s made of 14-karat gold.”
Judging by the way he said this, I take it the necklace is quite valuable, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself and ask how much 14-karat gold is worth. Suddenly, the thought fires off into a hundred different directions until one question after another pops up in my head.
How rich is the guy? I-can-dine-in-fancy-restaurants-every-day rich? Or more like I-can-buy-myself-a-new-Ferrari-every-month rich? Or maybe even I-own-a-private-island rich?
How old is he? Does he have siblings? Is he a player who lives by the bed ’em and dump ’em policy?
And the most important question… Did he meet with other matches?
“Breathe.”
His low purr breaks through my reverie, and I try to exhale slowly, as usual, oblivious that I’ve stopped breathing altogether. He lifts a hand and pulls my lip out from in between my teeth.
“What’s going on in your head, Devon?”
Cupping my ass, he pushes me up and lowers me down on his lap where I can feel the hardness building. He hisses when he realizes that I’m naked underneath my flannel shirt.
I lightly shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Devon,” he drawls in a smug tone. “What’s on your mind?”
Too much, apparently.
“Did you… did you meet with other matches?”
The hand caressing my side stills, and I curse inwardly, hating myself for bringing this up in the first place. Even if he denies it, I’d never know if he was telling the truth.
“Yes,” he finally confesses, and I’m glad the darkness conceals my downcast expression. “I met with my second match, but I dismissed her after…”
After what? After she rubbed him a quick one out? After he made her come with his fingers inside her?
“After we shared a kiss because I didn’t crave her lips as much as I crave yours.”
The last part is spoken on a whisper, and he brushes a thumb over my lips before he steals a kiss from me, one that has the power to seep right into my soul.
Before I can overthink his words, the atmosphere in the room shifts as his ringed hand travels up my thigh to vanish underneath my shirt. I suck in air as he buries a finger inside me, my back bowing. I have no idea what he’s doing, but hell, he’s pushing all the right buttons as he moves his finger in and out, crooking it right where I need the pressure the most.
“Ross…” I whine over his lips, my forehead pressed against his and my hands buried in his hair as I brace myself for the ultimate high, one that I can feel coming faster than I can handle it.
“What do you want, Devon?” he has the guts to ask, and I whimper in protest when he starts to fumble around with his other hand, almost losing his rhythm.
“Come on, speak to me,” he growls in a darker tone.
Something hard and sticky slaps against my inner thigh, and I realize that he’s just removed his boxer briefs to free his rock-hard erection and roll up a condom.
“Please, let me come,” I beg at last when the pressure becomes too much.
As if on cue, his finger slides out to circle around my clit while he thrusts his length inside me, and I detonate on impact. My thighs tremble with the sensations buzzing through my veins, and my head rolls back as I let him ride me into oblivion.
“Fuck,” he curses.
The next second, his hands are on my collar, and he rips my shirt apart down to the last button. His greedy fingers are everywhere at once, and I push him down, voraciously grinding my hips to take him in even deeper.
Gathering from his harsh breaths, he’s slowly losing control, and my lips break into a bewitching smile as I switch our roles.
“What do you want, Ross?” I hum into his ear, gripping his chin just like he did to me last time.
Something between a scoff and a grunt escapes him, his hands clawing into my ass cheeks to urge me on, but I cease my movements, relishing in the power I just took from him.
“Come on, speak to me,” I repeat his words, his hand clutching my nape in response.
He grits out his next words as if they physically hurt him.
“I want to come inside you, and I want you to fall apart at the same time, milking my cock with every fucking clench of your hot, tight pussy.”
For a moment, I’m shocked into silence. I’ve never done this dirty talk before, but his voice alone calls to a primal part in me I didn’t even know existed. A crash of pleasure ripples through me as the heat at my core bursts and my scream fills the space, one that he muffles with a fervent kiss as if desperately trying to catch the sound and keep it for all eternity.
We pant like crazy as we come down from our high, our breaths and heartbeats loud in the isolated room.
“You’re going to pay for this next time,” he murmurs.
I lift my head to look at him, even if I can’t see more than his contours. “Pay for what?”
“For unmanning me like you just did.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” I say with a grin, pushing myself up to let him slide out of me, but he grips my nape tighter, keeping me in place.
I can hear his lips parting as he wants to say something, but he seems to struggle for words for a moment.
“Did you meet with other matches?” he asks.
His question comes out of left field, but I try to hide my astonishment, hoping to brush it off with a shrug. I don’t want to make up a lie just to protect my pride, but telling the truth and dropping my guard doesn’t feel right, either.
Instead, I try to wriggle out of his hold.
“Oh no, you won’t,” he says, his hands clamping around my arms. “I answered your question. Now you’re going to answer mine.”
I jut out my chin. “Maybe.”
“Maybe what?”
“You wanted an answer. That’s my answer.”
And with that, I yank myself free, making sure to press my knee into his groin to render him defenseless and put space between us.
“You’re going to make me suffer? Fine.”
He swings his legs over the bed and walks over to me while I slip into my torn shirt. The air between us is thick and heavy with all the unspoken words floating through the space. When the silence becomes too much for him, he hooks a finger underneath my chin.
“I wish I could see you…” He takes a step closer, commanding my space. “I wish I could see the girl behind that smart mouth and sassy attitude.”
Pinching my lips, I take a deep breath through my nose.
“No, you don’t,” I say, my tone grave. “Pretty, smart, sassy… Whatever you call me inside this room, whoever you think I am inside this room—I’m not that kind of girl.”
The finger underneath my chin increases its pressure until I have to crane my neck as he leans down to whisper into my ear, “Oh, I think you are exactly that kind of girl.”
Knock-knock.
&nb
sp; How is it that a stupid sound from a phone causes such a disastrous impact?
It’s like this ring tone sets a chain reaction into motion, one that starts with my heart plummeting into my stomach which leads to a rush of adrenaline that, in return, causes my blood to race through my system until I can hear it pumping in my ears, and then whooshes down once more to spread like wildfire over my cheeks before my lungs cave, and my breath hitches in my throat, shutting down my motor functions—all happening within the fracture of a second.
But this time, my lucky streak seems to have no end because the sound makes me startle in my seat, and I knock over my coffee mug, hot liquid splashing all over my crotch. I launch to my feet with a yelp, smacking my hip against the desk hard enough to make it rattle, and the mug crashes to the floor, smashing to pieces.
“Seriously?” I shriek and shoot my phone lying on the desk a hateful look, ready to throw it out the window.
Yeah, so that’s basically what’s happening to me whenever my Silent Sins app chirps with an incoming message, and it annoys the hell out of me, mostly because I very much doubt that my messages have the power to rattle Ross’ composure in the slightest.
“Why the fuck do I even bother with yoga anymore? So much for finding my inner peace…”
Throwing my hands up in the air, I plod into the kitchen to get a wet cloth. When I’m done cleaning the mess, I pick up my phone and settle down on the couch. Taking a deep breath, I activate the screen, my heart pounding.
Rosswell: Just FYI: Sending the next invitation is on you.
A coy grin breaks out on my face. Pulling up my legs, I cross them at the ankles and type my reply.
Devonport: Noted
My eyes are riveted on the green dot above his avatar. He’s probably waiting for an invitation to drop into his inbox any minute, but I decide to let him dangle for a bit. His next message arrives a second later.
Rosswell: Share a secret?
I smirk, my fingers flying over the keyboard. I have to admit, the thought of Ross getting distracted by me at work is a satisfying one.
Devonport: I’m slowly running out of secrets.
