by Mia Ford
“I see,” I say. “Well, I’m sorry we disturbed you, Mrs. Phillips, but I am busy today, so…”
“No respect,” the old woman grouses, glaring at me. “And after I came over here to tell you about this letter at your door!”
I pause.
“Letter?” I ask, confused.
Mrs. Phillips taps her cane on the ground. I look down and step back. There’s a plain white envelope right outside my door. The old woman scowls at me.
“Did you leave it there?” she demands.
“Not me,” I promise. “Someone must have dropped it off.”
“Was it that bastard who was banging on your door at that ridiculous hour the other night?” she asks with a scowl.
I fight to keep my face straight.
“I doubt it,” I say. “I’d say someone just dropped it off so I could see it when I left today. Thank you for letting me know.”
She squints at me, as though trying to figure out whether or not I’m being sincere. I give her my sweetest smile, hoping that I look innocent enough.
Eventually, she huffs and turns away.
“Tell your friends not to litter!” she shouts over her shoulder as she hobbles off.
“I’ll let them know!” I call to her.
Shaking my head, I move back into the apartment, turning the envelope over in my hands curiously. As soon as he hears the door shut, Kyle comes out of the bedroom.
“Who was that?” he asks, frowning.
“Mrs. Phillips,” I repeat with a grin. “Dealing with her is always an experience.”
“You don’t say,” he says dryly. “And what was that about motorcycle riff-raff and bastards knocking on your door?”
“First, the bastard knocking on my door was you,” I say, and he grins. “Second, Mrs. Phillips is very traditional and set in her ways, so I wouldn’t listen too much. At least you know your bike survived the night.”
“It was locked down so tightly, I’d be more impressed if it wasn’t there,” Kyle says with a laugh. He glances at the envelope I’m carrying. “What’s that?”
“No idea,” I say with a shrug. “Mrs. Phillips actually came to tell me that it was at my door. Looks like someone dropped it. Maybe Jacqui, though I don’t know why she didn’t message me to tell me she’d dropped it.”
“Well, you won’t get anywhere by not opening it,” Kyle points out. “Let’s see what’s in it.”
I shake the envelope. It feels flimsy. Frowning, I rip it open and peer inside.
“Photographs?” I mutter, confused.
Kyle looks as puzzled as I am. I overturn the envelope and allow the photos to fall onto the table. Some of them are glossy and new, I notice, as though they’ve only just been printed out. Others are a little older.
“Is that you?” Kyle asks, pointing to one.
“Yeah, it’s…” I say, picking it up.
I trail off. I can feel my face draining of color as I stare at the glossy photo, barely able to believe what I’m seeing. Kyle, who’s staring at it from the back, gapes.
“It has two holes in it,” he points out unnecessarily.
With a shaking hand, I pass the photo. It’s immediately clear what’s causing me distress; the photo is one of me and my family and, in it, someone has poked out my eyes in my photo.
“Fuck,” Kyle swears.
He quickly goes through the photos. There’s photos of me and Jesse, some of me with my friends, quite a few with me and Jacqui. A lot of them I recognize from my social media site, which means the culprit accessed my page and downloaded several of my photos just to print them out.
All of them have the eyes poked out on my photo counterparts.
“What the fuck?” Kyle snarls. “Who…?” He stops. His expression darkens. “Jesse.”
I don’t want it to be true. But I can’t deny that it was likely him. There are several photos here that I left behind at the apartment because Jesse asked to keep them. Now they’re here, on my table, mutilated beyond repair.
“Why would he do this?” I ask, turning beseeching eyes on Kyle.
He looks back helplessly. He has no more idea than I do.
Chapter Fifteen
Kyle
Blood is pumping through my veins. I’m so angry that I can’t even think straight anymore. Allison is standing on the other side of the table, trembling as she looks at the photos, shocked by what she’s seeing.
Me? I’m ready to take to the streets, find that fucking scumbag and deal with him so he never comes near Allison again.
“Allison,” I say.
“Just…give me a moment,” she says, holding up a shaking hand. “I just…need to process this. It has to be Jesse, especially after the spray paint, but why…?”
“Because he’s insane,” I say in a low voice. “He doesn’t care that he’s hurting you, he just wants to put you in your place.” I pause. “Jesse knows where you live, Allison. If he’s making these kinds of threats…you aren’t safe here.”
Allison’s head jerks up. There’s fire in her eyes.
“Why should I have to be the one to move!” she shouts, infuriated.
“You shouldn’t have to,” I say, as calm as I can manage. Allison doesn’t need me shouting back at her right now. “It isn’t fucking fair that you should have to. But Jesse knows where you are, and this is the second time he’s threatened you.” I hold up a hand before she can snap again. “I’m not trying to tell you to do something about it now. I’m telling you to think about it.”
Allison stares at me, still angry. After a moment, however, she calms and sighs, running a hand through her hair.
“Yeah,” she says after a long moment. “You’re right. I’ll think about it, okay? Just…” Her eyes drift back to the photos. “Not right now.”
Alright, first order of business is to get rid of these fucking photos. I gather them all up. Allison watches me, not making any move to stop me, not even when I take them all to the trash can and throw them inside. Once I’ve done that, I tie up the bag and haul it out.
“I’ll take this on my way out,” I decide, stalking over and dropping it beside the front door.
“Thanks,” Allison says quietly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. How long have I known Allison now? It was Wednesday night when I saved her from Jesse. It’s now Saturday morning. I haven’t known her for very long at all.
But as I look at her, her shoulders hunched in vulnerability, her eyes far away as her mind races through possibilities, I know I want to do anything I can for this beautiful woman who has let me into her life. I want to protect her from everything, including jealous ex-boyfriends that can’t take a hint.
“Allison, I’ll do what I can,” I say, stepping toward her. I catch her hands in mine and hold them tightly. “If you want me, I’m here for you, I swear.”
She looks up at me. Her eyes are too bright and they’re searching mine, looking for something. She tugs her hands out of my grip and I let them go instantly.
Then her arms wind around my neck and her lips meet mine in a hungry kiss.
It’s nothing like before, when we were teasing each other, the heat slowly pooling in my stomach in excitement for what’s to come next. Suddenly it's hot and hurried and desperate, and I know this is only happening because Allison is upset, because Jesse has targeted her once more and she wants to pretend that he doesn’t exist.
So I break the kiss and step back. Fifteen minutes ago, she was looking at me. She wanted me. Now she only wants to forget, just like she did on that fateful night we met.
What do I do in this situation? Is it okay to give her what she wants? Or would she be better off if I refused and made her another coffee instead?
I don’t know.
“What?” Allison asks when I step back, hurt. “Sorry, I know that was unexpected. But it’s okay, right?”
“Allison…” I take a moment to stamp down on the heated lust that had flushed through
me the moment her lips touched mine.
“You don’t want this anymore?” she demands, suddenly angry.
“I do!” I exclaim, wincing at the volume of my own voice. “I do want this, Allison, so fucking much. But only if you want it.”
For a moment she looks confused.
“I kissed you,” she reminds me. She’s recovered at my assurance that I do want her, and she’s stalking slowly toward me, and intense look in her eyes. “So, yes, I do want this. I want you. I want to feel your hands on my skin, feel you in me, thrusting deep inside. I want you to fuck me hard.”
Fuck. My body trembles at her words. It’s a losing battle, and she hasn’t even touched me yet. I try to stand my ground anyway.
“Allison…” I try.
“No more talking,” she whispers.
She kisses me again, her hand drifting downward to cup me through my jeans, her other hand on her shoulder, and I’m gone. It was hard enough to back away before, when the touch of her skin is like a drug. Now that she’s telling me what she wants and is touching me again, I simply can’t refuse her.
It will be okay, I decide. I could talk to her about this afterward. For now, I’ll let her work off some steam.
I kiss her back just as hard. I remember last night, how we had moved slow and sensually against each other, taking the time to feel everything about each other’s bodies. This is nothing like that. This is more like the first time we had sex, when Allison had pressed me up against an alley wall until we decided to move onto her apartment.
It’s rushed and animalistic, taking only what we each want from the other, biting and scratching until all we can feel is each other’s touch. I put my hands under Allison’s butt and lift her up, and her legs wind tightly around my hips, her fingers digging into my cheeks as our tongues tangle and fight, unwilling to be apart for even a moment. I walk blindly forward until we hit the table, and I push Allison so she’s sitting on top of it, her legs spread open and me sitting between them. All that’s between us is my jeans and her robe, as neither of us saw fit to dress properly when we got up.
I’m thankful for that now.
“Fuck, you’re all ready for me like this,” I say with harsh, panting breaths, pushing Allison’s robe over her shoulders.
She smirks at me and grabs my hardened penis through my jeans again, and I choke on my next breath.
“What about you, Mr. Commando?” she teases.
Of course, she would have noticed that I didn’t put my boxer shorts back on when I got out of bed to get the aspirin. I grin at her and wind my hand through her hair, tugging lightly on a fistful of strands. Her hand falls back obediently, exposing her neck to me. I lap at her jaw and travel down, biting at her neck as I go. Allison wriggles beneath me, gasping with each bite, her hands gripping my arms as an anchor.
“Shit, Kyle,” she groans.
I reach her collarbone and, remembering the way she marked me last night (I can still feel the bite marks), I bite down and suck the skin in my mouth, working it between my teeth and then soothing it with my tongue. She lets out a wordless groan this time, her head falling to the side to give me better access, and I grin against her skin before I pull back.
“Look, now we match,” I chuckle.
“Seriously?” she asks, glaring at me through half-lidded eyes. “Now isn’t the time for jokes, Kyle.”
She tightens her legs around me and pulls me forward. My clothed groin meets her bare one and we both groan. Allison rubs herself against me, looking for some friction, and my hips buck toward her without permission.
“I need more,” she gasps. “Fuck, make me feel more, Kyle.”
She wants to feel, not to think. I know I should pull away and talk to her now. I know she’s stressed and scared, and she’s just using me, right now, to make those emotions disappear. But I don’t pull away.
I can’t.
She’s here in my arms, and I can’t let go of her, not now. I’m sweating and my breath is heaving, and we’re so close together that there’s nothing that could pry us apart anymore. If Allison wants to feel rather than think, I’ll give her exactly what she wants.
I put my hands under her knees and tug her forward. She almost falls backward, but she catches herself on her elbows, her expression confused as I sit her right on the edge of the table and step back, forcing her legs to unwind from around my hips.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Patience, Allison,” I say, repeating what she had said last night.
She grins. “Fuck patience,” she laughs.
I grin at the role reversal and drop down to my knees. I see the moment she gets it. Her expression goes wide and her legs tremble as I gently push them further apart so I can kneel comfortably between them. I wink up at her.
“Just thought I’d return the favor from last night,” I say.
I reach out and rub my fingers over her folds. She’s wet, and it smears over my fingers as I rub them over her entrance, her entire body trembling. I look up at her; her eyes are fixed on me, watching my every moment.
I hold her gaze and slowly put the fingers I touched her with into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the digits. She gasps, panting hard as she watches me taste her. I remove my fingers, which are now wet with saliva.
“Just preparing,” I say, my voice rough.
I move them back to her entrance. Her body is shaking so hard that I’m surprised she hasn’t fallen off the table already. I reach up to put a hand on her leg, holding her in place. Then I circle her entrance with one wet finger, teasing it.
“Oh please, fuck, just do it,” Allison moans.
“When I’m ready,” I promise.
I circle it twice more, then, without warning, I plunge my finger into her body. Her body sucks the digit in as she writhes and moans, and I thrust it in and out, watching as it disappears into her. I curve my finger, stroking her inner walls, and she falls back against the table them with a sharp gasp.
Then I wriggle another finger in beside it, scissoring them in and out, crooking them as I search for that one spot that will make Allison scream. I move them around, thrusting the digits in as deeply as I can, hitting gold when Allison’s entire body jolts with a loud cry.
“Looks like I found it,” I say, satisfied.
“Do that again!” she groans.
I pull my fingers out and thrust them back in, and she’s like Jell-O on the table, unable to do anything other than feel my fingers moving in and out. Her hips jerk down to meet my thrusts, trying to force more of me in but, long as my fingers are, they aren’t long enough. She wants more, and I know that.
But she wants to feel, too, and I’m willing to draw this out for as long I can, until the only memory left in her head is me.
“What do you want, Allison?” I ask.
“More,” she sobs. Her hands find my head and she tangles her fingers in my messy hair. “I want more!”
I grin. I can give her more. I remove my fingers and her hips jerk downward, disappointed at the loss. I push her legs back even further so I can lean my head in. Her body is so hot it feels like a furnace, and I blow on her fluttering entrance, making her jerk.
“What are you…?” she gasps.
And then my mouth is on her, my tongue wriggling inside her body, and she falls silent.
“…Fuck,” she whispers under a long moment, her entire body going boneless, helpless against the waves of pleasure that she’s feeling.
I lap at her entrance, licking and sucking, my tongue swirling around the walls inside her. It’s thicker than my fingers, though not as long, but I know she’s feeling every ridge of my tongue as her walls clamp around me. I hold her hips in place, stopping them from jerking down, massaging the skin with my thumbs.
“Shit, oh shit,” she cries, panting. “Kyle…too much! Kyle…!”
That’s okay. Too much is more than okay. Too much means that she isn’t thinking about Jesse anymore, that her only thoughts are of me and
what I’m doing to her. If that’s the case, then I’m more than fine with bringing her over the edge again and again and again. I’ll catch her every time and drag her back up into my arms, where she’ll never have to worry about Jesse again.
Allison is tugging at my hair now, her body trembling with need. My tongue isn’t quite enough, she needs more, but her body is still being wracked with pleasure, leaving her little room to consider anything else. It’s just me and her, nothing else.
Finally, though, I pull away. She’s panting, her chest heaving, her robe falling open on the table. My dick is hard in my jeans, pressing uncomfortably against the denim. Slowly, uncomfortably, I stand. I lean over Allison, now lying on the table with her legs dangling over the edge, bracing my arms on either side of her head.
“Do you want more?” I ask, my voice low.
“Yes,” she moans. “Fuck, yes, please.”
I grin. She’s thinking only of me and what I can do with her. She isn’t thinking about Jesse. She isn’t thinking about the photos. It’s just me.
I’ll make sure it stays that way for now.
Chapter Sixteen
Allison
I know I’m using Kyle right now. And Kyle knows I’m using him, too. He’s known it since he pushed me away and asked me if this is definitely what I want. I was afraid that he was going to make me stop and think about all this.
But he didn’t. And I’m grateful, because I can think about it all later. Right now, I just want to feel everything Kyle will give me, to erase the thoughts of Jesse and whatever vendetta he has right now from my mind.
Kyle pulls back from me, his lips glistening with the moisture from my vagina, and my chest heaves as I pant at the sight. The feeling of his tongue inside me was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Jesse had never done that to me before. It was wonderful and overwhelming and too much and not enough, all at once.
