Hiding

by N. M. Catalano

He groans. It’s the sound of his darkness, hungry and fierce.

  “You think so?” I taunt him.

  He grabs both my wrists and restrains them behind me with one hand as he palms my crotch roughly with the other. He’s got me backed up against the wall before I even know what happened.

  “I know so,” his words are a quiet seductive warning at my ear.

  My breathing is heavy and I feel the wetness pooling at my sex.

  Why does his fierceness make me wild? Why do I want this so much?

  My mind is racing as he wedges my thighs apart with a knee and places his tall body between them. Removing his hand from between my legs, he yanks up my shirt and bra. My breasts bounce out and are practically reaching for his mouth.

  “First I’m going to take these,” he whispers huskily, his mouth a breath away from the hardened points.

  I’m panting, immobile, and on the verge of erotic meltdown. And he hasn’t even touched me yet.

  Attack. No other word can describe how Rico takes my breasts. He attacks them with his mouth, sucking, licking, nibbling, teasing them and feasting on them with his mouth, lips, and teeth. His ravishment is fevered and ravenous, like he can’t get enough of them.

  Enough of me.

  The sensations shoot like a livewire straight to my groin and makes everything tighten with need.

  “Rico, please,” I moan as my head falls back against the wall, the only part of my body that has free motion.

  He’s got my arms held firmly behind my back, his body is planted between my spread legs, and I’m arched at an angle, if I move, I’ll slide down the wall.

  He has me captive. His assault is mind blowing, and leaves me practically gasping for air.

  As his mouth ravages my breasts, sending me catapulting into a frenzied delirium, he begins to open my pants. He tugs and yanks at the button and zipper. I pull on my arms trying to break free. I need to get him, I need him to get to me, I have to satisfy this primal hunger coiling and rising within me.

  “Please what, kitten?” he murmurs against the soft flesh of my breasts, sucking on the meaty roundness, leaving love bites all across the plumpness.

  “Let me go,” I moan.

  “Not yet,” I can feel him smile against my skin.

  Shoving his hand down the front of my pants, immediately his finger finds my already sensitive clit. When he makes contact with it, jolts of pure pleasure flash through me. My stomach tightens with the electric surge pulsing through my system, igniting every nerve ending.

  “Wait until I’m free, Rico,” I grind out desperately.

  I can feel the rumble of a soft laugh vibrate through him. I thrash in his grip, but I slide down the wall. He stops me with his knee against my sex. Every instinct demands I rub against him to sate my rising hunger.

  Then he really begins to torment me.

  He alternates slipping a finger inside me, gliding it in and out, twisting it, rubbing it deliciously against my inner walls, only to remove it to tease my now throbbing clit. He pushes me to the edge and pulls me back over and over again while never stopping his onslaught on my sensitive breasts.

  I can barely thrust my hips into him with the unsteady position I’m in. I’m at his mercy, his tortuous, incredible, domination of me. A place of unending stimulation with the promise of the most intense satisfaction taunting me at the edge.

  “Do you want to come, kitten?” he tantalizes my nipple with his tongue.

  “Yes,” it’s an agonized plea.

  He clasps my clit with his fingers.

  Yes! Yes! Yes! More, just a little bit more…

  I moan. I’m beyond caring that I need to beg. Intense need. Primitive hunger. Primal heat. That’s all I am. That’s what he’s made me.

  “Then open your eyes. I want to watch you fall apart.”

  His words liquefy my insides, stripping me bare, tearing me open and leaving me so vulnerable, I tremble beneath him.

  I slowly lift my head from the wall at my back and stare into his deep dark eyes. Possessive savage lust stares back at me.

  Instantly I know this is only the beginning.

  His jaw clenches and he sucks in a breath as he stares back at me.

  “Maria,” his voice is a thick and deep whisper, “I haven’t wanted any woman the way I want you.”

  Coherent thought is impossible as his words caress me and his fingers lightly tease me.

  His words, the look in his eyes, his very touch, obliterates all my reservations.

  I know without a doubt.

  I’m lost.

  I’m found.

  “Take me,” I whisper as I drown in the depth of his eyes.

  A grin lifts the corner of his decadent mouth.

  “Come for me, kitten. Let me hear you purr.”

  Clasping my clit between finger and thumb, he pinches.

  I explode.

  The detonation is intense and pulsates through my entire body, wave after wave. I scream, how I fucking scream, from its force. He keeps me soaring, rolling my clit in his grasp. It’s exquisite, its sweet release.

  When I come back down, it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

  My chest heaving, my loins pulsing, I glare at him.

  Staring wickedly into my eyes, he pulls his hand from my pants and sucks his fingers clean.

  “Fucking delicious.”

  His body lifts from mine as he straightens and releases my hands.

  It takes me only a fraction of a second to push myself up and land on him, my mouth crashing on his.

  He stumbles backward with my weight as we plow into the coffee table in the middle of the living room, hands and arms groping, mouths and tongues consuming. The sounds of feral hungry growls fill the air as our clothes fly across the room. Lamps fall to the floor as our bodies tangle and take.

  We leave a trail of destruction in the wake of our fury.

  We want to annihilate each other, consume and devour each other. Raw. Fierce. Starved. Animalistic.

  He’s torn my shirt and bra from my body, there are scratch marks down his torso from my nails, the evidence of my clawing at him to get his pants off.

  I grab his hair and pull. He grips my forearms. Our eyes battle.

  “Take your pants off,” I hiss.

  We’re both breathing heavily as we stand-off.

  A slow smirk lifts his lips as he moves his hands to push down his pants and boxers, then kicks them to the side, leaving them amongst the wreckage of the room. Not letting go of his hair, I reach with my free hand and squeeze his steely erection. It’s hot and thick in my grasp.

  His eyes roll back as I start to jerk him off.

  “Goddam it, Maria.”

  “It’s not much fun, is it?” I sneer.

  His eyes open to slits as he glares at me and gives me a dangerous smile.

  In a lightning flash, he has my hands off him and has pushed me back on the couch, pulling the jeans from my panting body.

  “On the contrary,” he flips me to my stomach, “it is,” with my knees on the floor, he yanks my hips up, “but fun isn’t the word I’d use,” my ass is in the air. “I told you I was going to take you,” he spreads my legs, “but first you need to be taught a lesson.”

  Smack! His palm lands at the juncture of my thighs, right over my mound.

  FUCK.

  Jolts of need surge through me.

  Smack!

  The second contact of his hand makes me moan.

  Smack!

  The third one I’m on the verge of coming instantly.

  “I’m going to fuck you now, kitten,” I hear him growl through my lust filled stupor.

  I arch my back like a horny sex crazed bitch, anticipating the feel of that first delicious thrust.

  “I’m taking you bare, Maria. Nothing between us, tell me if you’re okay with that.” I can hear the strain in his voice.

  Feeling him, him, is exactly what I want.

  “Yes, Rico, take me…”

  His h
and glides over the hot flesh of my ass where his palm awoke things in me I never dreamed I’d feel.

  “Kitten, feeling how my cock is going to pet you is going to blow my mind.”

  His thickness slips through my wetness and on my sensitive clit. My desire screams for more.

  But he takes his time.

  I’m panting. Sweating. Aching. Waiting.

  Then he’s there, finally, at my entrance, I can feel the roundness of his swollen head pressing against me.

  I can’t help it, I moan. Loud.

  “Please...”

  He pushes just until the crown of his cock is in me and his fingers dig into my flesh.

  “Please what, kitten?” I can hear the tightness in his voice.

  I breathe out several heavy breaths.

  “Please fuck me,” it’s so low, I don’t know if he heard me.

  He pulls back, leaving me empty and so damn needy.

  “I intend to. Hold on, kitten, I told you it’s going to be hard.”

  As I brace myself on the cushions of the black leather couch, he impales me.

  “Oh God, yes.” I’m beyond reason. I’m past propriety. I beg, I scream, I demand.

  His thrusts are hard and rough, deep and complete, he’s using me as I use him. We’re not making love. We’re fucking. Raw. Desperate. Insatiable.

  When my orgasm rocks through me, my scream is wild and feral.

  Rico follows right behind, growling, the sound so primitive and deep, it embeds itself in my soul.

  After we collapse in a tangled heap of sweaty bodies, our senses returning us to civilized human beings instead of the animals we just were, he gathers me in his arms and carries me to his bed. He kisses my face gently and tenderly as he lays me down, then goes to the attached bathroom and returns with a cloth. He wipes away our wetness from me and joins me on the bed, pulling me close. With his arms wrapped around me, the steady beating of his heart is like a symphony.

  “Maria…”

  “Mmmmmm?” I murmur contentedly.

  He pauses. I can feel the emotions swirling thick and strong in the air between us.

  It’s so much so fast, I can’t put it into words either. I hug him tighter.

  Finally, he says, “I don’t know how we got here, but I’m glad we did.” There’s such a strong underlying current to his words, it spears my heart.

  A warm glow washes over me. I know he’s just as unsteady as I am.

  “Me too, Rico.”

  Because at this moment, life is pretty damn good.

  Maria

  CHAPTER 13

  How is your day, kitten? a smile comes unbidden as I read Rico’s text.

  The cacophony of my mixed emotions rattle around in my brain like a marching band out of tune, one just as loud as the next. I’m not normal, and mine is no normal circumstance.

  And Rico, by far, is not your guy next door.

  I can’t date.

  I can’t do regular.

  But I can’t stop.

  Not with him.

  I’m leery of relying on him.

  I hate that I want to, and love that I just might be able to.

  It’s a fucking mess.

  I was overwhelmed with gratitude he’d called Officer O’Sullivan. And I’m content with what he’d told me. Although, it wasn’t much more than what the officer had said when I first met with him six months ago.

  It’s good. How’s yours?

  When he calls me that, I get all tingly all over. Whenever I hear it, that’s exactly how I feel.

  Thinking about you and last night is the best thing about it. The things I’m going to do to you, Maria.

  My heart rate accelerates as my entire body thrums in heated lust. The man has me programmed with only a word or a look to become aroused on command. I hesitate before replying, deliberating on what to say. Do I play it safe or do I say what I feel? I don’t even know what I feel. Should I tell him, I loved how you fucked me, or, You scare the hell out of me but I want more.

  I type out my response.

  I’ve been thinking about it too.

  My heart’s pounding as I wait for his reply.

  I want to tie you to my bed and ravish you for days. That still wouldn’t be enough.

  “Oh my God…,” I murmur as heat seeps through me and flares throughout my body.

  What do I say to that? YES, PLEASE!

  I’ve been thinking about him nonstop. He’s consumed my thoughts since I met him. Always passionate, at first furious, but constantly a little bit dirty. I catch myself imagining him as he goes through his day, where he’s at and what he’s doing. His possession of me has gone beyond just the bedroom, and if I were totally honest, it started the first time we met, I still feel the power of that look. He’s completely filled my mind. And coming close to filling my heart.

  I can’t let that happen.

  He replies before I can think of something safe to respond.

  I don’t think I told you, but I love the ink on your back.

  The compliment makes me blush.

  Thank you. I designed some of the work myself.

  Really? You’re an artist?

  I don’t like talking about that part of my life. I buried it when I left New York. I miss it, and what it could have been for me.

  Yes, I studied fashion design.

  Does Elsie know?

  That’s a little strange to ask.

  No. But why is your day bad?

  Just work.

  I can almost feel his tension with those two words. I want to kiss him and take his mind off of it, comfort him, soothe him, and remind him that the ugliness he faces every day is not what life really is.

  I’d never tell him that. I can’t.

  The irony of that thought does not go unnoticed, considering what my life’s been like the past six months.

  Tell me about it, Rico.

  Maria, I don’t want to dirty what we have with this filth.

  “He can’t really be this perfect, this good.” I sit and stare at my phone. How can I have fallen so hard for him this fast? I didn’t even trust ANYONE, yet he’s slipped past my walls and taken over.

  Somehow, some way, we smashed our barriers. I’m still apprehensive, but that’s the truth. A wall was broken down, in both of us, we’d both grown so comfortable with and had accepted the way we’d been living was the way life is. Maybe it was Rico’s confession. Maybe it was our ferocity, our madness, and after the explosion of what we’d shared had settled and the dust cleared, a new beginning was born.

  A threshold I’m hesitant to cross.

  But I want to. God, how I want to.

  Tell me, I want to know.

  There was another overdose last night.

  My heart constricts knowing he’s got to be surrounded by death, hate, and the worst parts of humanity every day. That he has been for a very long time.

  I’m so sorry.

  Going after the bad guys is what I do.

  Is it because it takes one to know one?

  It’s crazy, insane, and should make me run the other way, but I’m glad he is what he is.

  Thank God…

  I’ll see you later, kitten.

  I can’t wait.

  Bye, Rico.

  Shoving the phone in the back pocket of my jeans, I have to rush to get ready for the lunch crowd. There’re still so many things to do, making iced tea, getting the tables set up, by the time the first customers walk in the door, I’m still running to catch up.

  The afternoon flies by. For some reason, everyone seems a little nicer, a little happier, their smiles a little broader.

  Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the one who’s happier, and the customers can sense it. I find myself lingering a little longer at their tables, asking how their day’s been.

  It’s amazing what a difference one kind word can make.

  By the time the last customer leaves, it’s late afternoon. I’ve been in my own little Rico world, adorned with knocke
d over lamps and broken glasses on the floor, ripped zippers and snapped buttons, topped with delectably primitive love bites and scratches across bare flesh.

  Jesus Christ, we were wild!

  My heart and stomach do another somersault, actually a hundred, until it thuds like an acrobat hurdling through the air and landing, arms raised to a roaring crowd giving a standing ovation. I have to literally shake myself from the animalistic reverie that pulses through me and get back to work.

  Grabbing the bus pan laden down with the last of the lunch dishes, I back into the kitchen through the swinging double doors and head toward the dishwasher byway of the side nook. When I turn the corner, I freeze as dread pummels me and almost drop the heavy load of dirty dishes.

  Standing not five feet from me is the devil in the flesh, the thug from the other day, talking with the young dishwasher, who looks like he’s about to shit himself.

  NONONO!

  This can’t be happening, it isn’t real!

  “What are you doing?” terror and fury engulf me simultaneously.

  The dishwasher’s gaze flies to look at me, an expression of fear and remorse battle back and forth across his face as his eyes bounce from me to the pig. Slowly the scumbag peers over his shoulder at me, his smile a hideous sadistic smirk.

  “Maria Reyes,” my name, my full name, slips from his lips. It’s cold and cuts right through me.

  It makes me sick hearing him say it, instantly contaminating it and making it filthy.

  It also scares the living the shit out of me.

  Dear God NO! He knows my name!

  I want to drop the pan and bolt. I want to throw every damn rice and bean covered plate at his vile face.

  “What are you doing?” I ask again, tightly.

  Turning back to the terrified dishwasher, he slips something into his hand and pats him on the shoulder. “Bueno, you did good.”

  I watch the exchange horrified.

  What the hell has been happening over here?!

  The thug then tells him, “Get that from her, a woman shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy.”

  Under his evil spell, the young man scurries to unburden me of the load.

  I glare at him. “Get your shit and get out of here.”

  His eyes dart to mine, round and imploring, his face pale, and he mumbles, “I’m sorry,” then he runs out the backdoor.