by G. D. Madsen
I squeeze Lava's fingers and get on my knees. "Don't cry, beautiful," I murmur, caressing her wet cheek. "Smile for me instead."
She smiles, tracing my lips with her thumb and setting my body ablaze. I capture her finger with my mouth and suck it in before releasing it. Lava’s eyes darken, and her hand trembles against my cheek. We lean for each other simultaneously. She tastes of wine with a hint of vanilla from countless milkshakes she gulped down at the diner. Sweet and intoxicating. I want to savor her everywhere, but the part of me that wonders about those milkshakes she never drank demands to reach past her safeguard first, and this seems like the ideal moment for confessions.
I tear my lips away and press my forehead to hers, trying to calm my breathing. "What about me? Well, my French grandparents seemed utterly indifferent to my future, and my Saharan family thought it would be best for me to finish my education here, so when my best friend's father offered me a place to live, they agreed. The man treated me as his own son. Lucas, my friend, and his two sisters became my new family, and when that family got ripped apart, his other two best friends and I swore we would help Lucas seek justice."
"Did you?" she asks hesitantly.
"Not yet." I lean back. "Legal system was not powerful enough to punish the guilty, so Lucas decided to become the judge and the executioner. The day after his sister’s funeral, we made a blood pact to avenge her death and always be there if one of us needed help."
Lava does not ask, but I can see curiosity in her eyes, so I tell her the entire bloody story starting with the day my friend's mother ran away with another man. I divulge the gory details of the methods we used to question those directly involved in crimes his father was trying to expose. By the time I finish talking, I expect her to look at me with near disgust. Instead, I see tears. Lava blinks rapidly and wipes the corner of her eye.
She unwraps herself from the blanket and walks off to the edge of the balcony. "These men... Are they dangerous?" Her question is just a whisper, her voice breaking. "If anything happened to you..."
Putting my empty glass on the floor, I go to her and wrap my arms around her delicate frame. "Nothing will happen to me." I bury my face in her soft hair, inhaling the same flowery scent reminiscent of warm sunny days on the beach. Only her shivering body suggests it is still a cool spring night on Lake Michigan. "Would you like to go inside?" I let Lava go and pick up the glasses.
She shakes her head and snugs under the quilt again. "Just a little longer." She smiles, and I am unable to object. It is almost as if she is cherishing every single second of being outdoors.
I leave her to refill the glasses, and when I return, the smile on her lips is different. "Do you play the guitar?" Lava points at the window, and I burst out laughing.
"Why do you think it's mine?" I tease her. "Do I remind you of a poetic troubadour proclaiming feelings in songs of his creation?"
"Well, you are the master of sweet-talking women over the phone into meeting with you," she teases back. "Your voice sounds like a hoarse melody making me imagine... things."
I laugh at her reference to the words I told her over the phone and retreat inside to fetch the guitar. "Any special wishes for your troubadour, my queen?" I ask upon return.
She only giggles.
"There is one song my mother loved," I say, sitting on the sunbed in front of Lava’s again. I choose the song, hoping the lyrics would trigger something in her and help her open up to me. My fingers strike the chords and breach a dam of sad memories. I played the song in this very house for my mother on her very last day.
I start to sing and get lost in the recollections of the only woman I truly loved in my life.
Illuminated by the moonlight, Lava’s tears resemble pearls as they roll down her cheeks by the end of the song. "It is so sad... The verse..."
Something warm and fuzzy hugs my heart.
"Yes and no," I say, putting the guitar aside and getting on my knees in front of her. "Yes, the song is about dying, but it is also about keeping the loved ones alive in your soul forever." I kiss the tears away from her face one by one.
"I don't remember my parents," she speaks after the silence that lasted too long. "I try, but the memories are so faint... Their image hovers in the back of my head like a mirage, but as soon as I approach them… I don't know… It's like the picture remains smudged by the tears I cried..."
"Why were you crying?" I ask gingerly. If I spook her now, she might never open up to me.
"I was afraid and lonely." She hesitates for a moment, but then adds, "Only Mauro's friendship calmed me."
"And your father?" Maybe my question is not forethought, and she could shut down again, but I need to try. I cannot just sit here and ignore the truth that she may hold the answers to all the heist mysteries, including Evelyn's murder.
Lava's face turns paper-white in the pale moonlight. "He..." She looks away, nervously biting her lower lip. "He was not around much at first. He would come whenever I had nightmares. After they stopped, I only saw him during... the lessons..."
"Your father home-schooled you?" Not that there is anything odd about home-schooled children, but the man I met hardly strikes me as a personal tutor.
"Him and some other people..." Lava's hand trembles when she lifts the glass to her lips. "Most of the time, we had books to study from by ourselves, and Father would later—" She halts, unwilling to go further.
"Did you grow up in Chicago?" I decide to take a detour.
She circles her finger around the brim of the glass and sighs. "No. Somewhere in the countryside. It was very quiet. Almost as quiet as here."
"We moved back to Chicago when I was fourteen." Lava bends to place the drink down.
"You said moved back," I point it out.
The glass turns over. "I... I don't know..."
I clasp her hands in mine, ignoring the red liquid spreading on the floor. "You do know more than you are telling me. You told me your father found you on the street. Where was that street? Was it in Chicago?"
"I don't remember," she sobs. "I told you! Please, stop questioning me. I already revealed more than I should have! Father would be infuriated—" Her breath catches.
Lava never meant for me to hear this, I am sure.
From everything I witnessed until now, I have no doubts that the son of a bitch is one ruthless bastard, and the longer I look at those huge frightened doe eyes in front, the more I wish to rip Beltrani's throat.
"What would he do if he found out you talked to me?!" I clutch her shoulders, and she flinches, but I decide to ignore it. I have to know the truth. "Bloody hell! Tell me, is he hurting you? What has that man done to you?"
"I can't..." Her eyes beg me for sympathy, but when it comes to getting crucial answers, I am far from a sympathetic hero. The bastard who cut Lucas father's car breaks could testify to that.
"Yes, you can!" I squeeze her chin and force her to face me. "Enough protecting him. Who is this man? Is he behind the robberies?"
"You don't understand!" Her cry is one of desperation. "I can't! I can't..." Lava slips out of my hands and runs for the door.
I catch her in the middle of the living room. She shakes her head, eyes closed, and keeps repeating the same phrase over and over again, so I do the only thing I can come up with to bring her back from this frantic state of panic. I capture her mouth with mine.
Instantly her whole form shifts. She turns liquid in my arms. Her hands fall to her sides, her lips part, and her body converts into the monument of surrender. As I continue kissing her trembling lips, they feel alien. The sounds leaving her mouth are nothing like the humming moans I got addicted to in less than a day.
I pull away to look at her. The image in front of me looks painfully familiar. I witnessed it last night in her cell – right after Lava heard his voice.
The realization punches me in the stomach.
That bastard! This is why she is terrified! I will destroy that piece of shit. I will erase him from the surface
of the earth to free Lava from his claws, but first I need to somehow make her see me, not him.
I try shaking her shoulders again in vain. Her eyes are shut in fearful anticipation, her breathing fast and hollow. I need to calm down if I want to comfort the woman in my arms. "Please, Kahina... Look at me... I am here. Forgive me for frightening you... Please, just look at me."
Her eyelashes flutter, and I actually witness the moment she recognizes me. Her beautiful hazel eyes become alive again.
"David!" She clings to my chest, her arms so tight around my neck they threaten to strangle me.
She loosens the grip enough to look at me, the fire in her eyes more intense than ever. "Make me forget the world!" So much pain and hope for salvation resonate in those words that I can't say no. My cock indeed is not about to say no.
I claim her mouth without any further invitation, promising to keep her demons at bay with no words.
Clothes fly across the room like the unnecessary obstacles they are, and I press her naked body underneath mine right on the living room carpet.
I have been dreaming about this moment for a month now. What an idiot I have been. Nothing even remotely compares to the warmth of her body or her mouth kissing me like I am the air she needs to survive. This time I recognize the kiss. I recognize those silent moans when I tease her lips, and I lose my mind.
This is not the kind of desire that asks for foreplay. Fuck, foreplay lasted all afternoon. I part her legs, and thrust inside her wet pussy, so fucking ready for me.
She feels like velvet.
A silent cry escapes her lips, and her eyes lock onto mine. "I trust you," she moans as I pick up the pace. She presses her hips against mine, attuning her rhythm to mine, not even trying to stop me from ramming into her like a madman.
This is probably how the first people were mating. It is not pretty, not sophisticated, certainly not gentle. It is the most natural primal instinct. Pure, desire clouded madness.
Lava's body arches, her fingers threaten to tear the flesh from my shoulders, and her lips shape into a mute cry. She's like a vision I could contemplate forever, but the sight of her is all I lack to find my release, my whole body shaking in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm.
Unwilling to crush her with my weight, I roll on my back, bringing her with me. Wetness moistens my chest hair as I hold her tight in my arms, her face buried underneath those endless curls. "Did I hurt you?" I keep my voice soft and soothing, but Lava starts sobbing instead.
Her head shakes in denial, her body still trembling from sobs, and I have no idea how to calm her down.
"Tell me, what's wrong, please," I nearly beg, my hands caressing her naked back. Her skin is like silk, and my arousal threatens to come back, but I am not about to use a crying woman for my pleasure. "Would you like some water?"
This time Lava nods, and I gently lay her on the carpet, my body reluctant to separate from hers. She rolls to her side and hides her beautiful face inside her hands. I caress her hair and reluctantly retreat into the kitchen.
By the time I return to the room, she is standing in her trousers and tank top. "This was a mistake... David, please, I need to go back. I cannot do this to you. I don't deserve you... I don't deserve any of this..."
She storms out faster than I manage to digest her words. I'm stuck in slow motion, trying to get into my jeans, before running after her into the stillness of the late night.
Somebody presses a panic button inside my head while my eyes search the emptiness around me in vain.
I hit pause on the alarm and close my eyes. The waves wash the shore, a lonely owl is crying in the tree behind the house, a car passes by a few streets away, but no sound of footsteps. Where would she go?
'I have never been to a beach.'
I turn around and run past the house toward the water. The moonlight and the shimmering lake create the illusion of a white night, pale blue light illuminating every corner of the beach.
Sure enough, I spot a silhouette leaning against a tree about fifty feet away from me.
The sound of the wind whispering through the trees above her head dampens my footsteps, and Lava fails to notice me until it's too late for her to flee. I trap her between my body and the trunk she leaned against.
"Why won't you talk to me?" I seize her wrists when Lava attempts to push me away. "Tell me what I did wrong, please!"
"No, not you! What happened in the house was perfect! I don't deserve this... Damn it, I am not worth it, David! I am—" I consume her last words, my mouth on hers, and I don't let go until Lava stops struggling.
"Do you think I am a fucking Prince Charming on a white horse looking for a virgin damsel in distress to marry? I am not a romantic hero, but I will fight for you, Kahina, – blood, sweat, and tears – if I have to. I want you more than I ever wanted any woman, and I do not give a fuck if you consider yourself worthy of me! I only care if you consider me worthy of you!"
"I am no queen. I am a slut, and nobody ever saves one." Lava looks at me, her eyes moist. "Sluts are not worth fighting for. You will see me for what I am soon, and regret everything… if you don't already."
"Are you serious?! Do you want me to show you just how much I regret meeting you?" I pull her baggy trousers down hardly taking time to unzip them. My jeans suffer the same fate, and I press myself against her again, my cock hard to the point of aching. "Does this feel like I am disappointed?" I grasp the back of her thighs and lift her up, her back against the bark, as I wedge my body in between her legs. "Tell me again how I don’t find you worthy!"
I claim her body with one resolute thrust, dissolving Lava's startled cry with the kiss. My entire body demands her response, and she does. Her thighs tighten around my hips, her fingers tangle inside my hair, and her soft moans send me on a straight road to insanity yet again. But it is her body, pulsating around my cock, that makes me lose every last bit of control. A growl escapes my mouth and bounces off the surface of the lake, disrupting the silence and crushing my previous determination to keep away from feelings deeper than lust.
"David..." A whisper reaches past the high of the moment. "I can hardly breathe."
I loosen my iron-clad embrace and land her on her feet.
"I am ready to go back now. Are you?" I ask after zipping my pants and immediately want to slap myself for not choosing better words.
Lava pulls up her trousers without looking at me. The most gorgeous woman I ever held in my arms walks past me with a nod, biting her trembling lips.
I catch her wrist and draw her to me. "I meant back to the house."
"I thought you had enough of me..." Her words come out as a sigh.
"Why would you think that?" I laugh, kissing her salty face. "Was I not convincing enough just moments ago? I want you like an addict wants his high!"
Her lips quirk upwards. "But you had your high twice, and I thought..."
"Yes, I have fucked you twice like the animal I am, but now I am taking you back to the house, to my bed, and I would like to make love to you for the rest of the night if you allow me."
Chapter 10
Lavinia
My heart jumps up to my throat the moment I am awake enough to feel the weight of somebody's arm draped around me. Chaos and fear invade my brain incapable of piecing together a coherent thought, until I inhale the scent of musk, cedar and something exotic deep into my lungs, and my pulse skyrockets for a very different reason.
A wave of relief washes over me, drowning any remainders of panic. David keeps me tight against his chest, his whole body shielding me from the horrors of the world outside these walls.
Last night he chased away all my hesitations and self-loathing with his gentle kisses, with his hands and lips worshiping every inch of my body. Nobody ever touched me this way, and I allowed myself the luxury of forgetting my ugly past.
Every sickening image of those men who had touched me seized to exist because none of them ever made sex feel like a dance – slow and sensual. Never h
as an orgasm swallowed my whole essence, without me crying in pain and shame.
I lay for some time, absorbing the sound of David's deep and calm breathing, but out of nowhere, a brutal surge of panic cramps my stomach. Tomorrow this illusion of freedom will end, my world will turn dark again, and hopefully, this time my prayers of dying will be answered because I will never be able to live knowing this could have been mine. Yet it never will, not in this universe, not in this lifetime. I would rather suffer in Silvio's cruel hands than risk him hurting David. This is my last day with the man I am willing to die for.
David's embrace tightens. "Good morning, sunshine," he murmurs, landing kisses on my neck, and my body melts. "How long have you been awake?"
"A while." I free myself from his warm hug and turn to face him. "I liked listening to you sleep."
David raises one eyebrow. "Did I snore?"
My smile shifts into a grin. "A little, but you were cute."
His second brow goes up. "Cute? Are you calling me cute? I am a thirty-two-year-old male; there is nothing cute about me." David rolls on top of me and starts tickling me all over. "Puppies are cute, kittens are cute, I am not cute, woman!"
"Cute, cute, cute!" I squeal in between laughs, whirling under him. "My cute teddy-bear!"
He halts. David gazes at me, his expression a mystery. "Say that again."
I stare at him, trying to catch my breath and rewind my words. Oh. "Mine?" My cheeks flush.
"Damn straight," he says, brushing wild curls off my face. "And I am not letting you go." Our lips and bodies collide again, and I allow myself the luxury of believing this fairy tale for a little longer.
By the time we vacate the bed, David's bedroom is drowning in the rays of the midday sun, streaming through a tall window, the white curtains still tied on each side of the frame. David disappears into the bathroom while I pick up my clothes scattered all over. My top hangs on the floor lamp by the dresser with wooden drawers and black metal shelves, same style as the vast bed we barely slept in. My panties and converses are still in the living room, so I drop the rest of my clothing aside and pick a blue T-shirt from the open dresser shelf instead, eager to wear something of David's.
