Текст книги "Indecent Cravings: Part Three"
Автор книги: S. K. Cross
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 6 страниц)
Chapter 2
The sun is down. The night is thick but comfortable. The clouds have moved on temporarily. Tourists flock around Collins Ave.
As we walk, I link my arm through Trevor’s. His biceps are thick. I squeeze a little. He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t push me away, so that’s a start. A devious and dirty plan comes to life within me.
“Where are we going?” I say in my best little girl voice, jumping up and down with a big squeaky smile without letting go of his arm.
Trevor glares down at me with a confident look worthy of a movie star. “Dinner. I’m hungry.”
I jump up and down. “Please, pretty please, can we get a hamburger? Please, please, please!”
I know this is going to get to him. Trevor hates extravagances. “God, what is wrong with you, seriously?”
“And I don’t want to eat out. I want to bring it back to the Redmond Apts.”
He shoots me another evil look, then says “Come here.” I scream as he locks me in a wrestling neck hold and scratches the top of my head. I play-scream and then he pushes me away from him, walking ahead of me.
I run to catch up with him and impale myself on his arm again. I skip as we go, giggling and laughing some more. Just like I used to do when the ice cream truck would drive through the neighborhood, and I’d beg him to buy me a Fudgsicle.
“Oh, look,” I say, “what a perfect name for a liquor store!” The sign reads I <3 Liquor. “Can we go in, please? Can we, please? Can we, please? Huh?”
“You know, I know exactly what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work.”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Nuh-uh!”
I break from him and run into the liquor store. I grab a bottle of his favorite Jameson, some club soda, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio for me. By the time he arrives inside, I’m already in line. He falls in beside me, shaking his head. I giggle and blow him a kiss.
There is a girl ahead of us wearing jeans that barely cover her ass. I can’t help but stare. She’s a little big but nice and round.
Trevor notices, looking down at me. “You’re funny,” he says.
“How am I funny?”
His eyes gaze into mine with that look that launches my longings again. “Just funny.”
“Can I help you?” says the gorgeous black girl behind the counter. I can’t help but stare at her stunning eyes and luscious pierced lips. Yeah, I’m fully activated. I want to throw myself at those lips right now and flick that piercing with my tongue.
Trevor takes the bottles from me and places them on the counter. This time I let him pay, with another giggle.
Once we’re back out on Collins Ave, I link up with his left arm and say, “I know what you want.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.” I drag him left at Lincoln Road, past the creepy guys who hang around the bus stop.
“Shut up, Smudge. Don’t go there.”
“I know what you want,” I sing in an up-and-down musical tone.
“It’s not going to work,” he says.
“What’s not going to work?”
“Whatever you’re doing. I know you. You want what you want. You always get your way, being the youngest and all. It works with your dad, but it will never work with me.”
I stop in front of the TD Bank at Washington and face him, pressing my breasts up into him. “What won’t work?”
“Convincing me to go to some fancy restaurant. They’re all way to pricey around here, and most of them suck.”
I squint while looking at him and point behind me. He smiles. “You’re not serious.”
“Why did I drag you one block? Think, Trevor, think!”
I watch his eyes as they fixate on a spot behind me. “I can see why.”
I giggle, turn, and run against the Don’t Walk sign across Washington and into Trevor’s favorite restaurant of all time.
Just as he arrives behind me, I say to the cashier, “Three hamburgers, two Filet O’ Fishes, a large fries, and a small fries. To go.”
I swipe my debit card again. Thanks, Zander. I’ll pay you back, I swear, I promise.
“You know you’re fucking ridiculous, don’t you?” says Trevor when we’re back out on the street, McDonald’s bag in hand, crossing over to James Ave and back to the Redmond Apts.
I lean up into his ear. “Yeah, well guess what?”
“What?”
“I think you like fucking ridiculous.”
Chapter 3
We’re on the couch watching TV, stuffed with fast food, and somewhat drunk. Or at least I am.
The talking heads babble endlessly about Donald Trump, who is apparently the only subject allowed on television tonight. I don’t pay much attention to politics, even though I have a sense of where I stand.
“That’s a funny sign over the door,” I say.
“What sign?” says Trevor.
“Redmond Apts. Not apartments. Just apts. That’s what I’m going to call it. The Redmond Apts.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I resemble that remark.” I fall into a fit of giggles.
“Hey, this place is semi-famous. It was in an episode of Miami Vice.”
“No way.”
“Yeah, Crockett and Tubbs came through that door and yelled, ‘Freeze!’”
“Didn’t they do that in every episode?”
“Yeah, but once right here.”
“And you know this how?”
“I was here, watching them shoot it. I stood off to the side out front. Back in those days, there was no courtyard or hedge. They widened the sidewalk, so back then this window behind us was right on the street.”
“You’re boring, you know. A boring old man.”
He puts me in another headlock and scratches my head while I play-scream. When he’s done, I use it as an opportunity to snuggle closer to him on the couch. He doesn’t move away from me, which tells me my plan is working.
We watch the talking heads blather about Donald Trump some more.
“I hate his toupee,” I say.
“It’s not a toupee,” says Trevor, play-hitting me.
“Yes, it is! Look at that… thing.”
“There was an episode of The Apprentice where he was standing in a windstorm at a construction site. No toupee would have ever survived this wind. You’re delusional.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re a moron!”
“Oh yeah? Well, Smudge, you’re a whiny brat!”
I squint my eyes and do my best Robert DeNiro. “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?” Trevor laughs and falls off the couch. “So much for your ability to handle Jameson, tough guy.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tweedle-Ditz.”
“Oh no! No, no, no! You promised never to call me that again! For that, you get punished!” I leap onto the floor and attack Trevor, throwing slaps and punches this way and that. “Tickle fight!”
It’s all a bunch of fantastic laughs until . . . oh my God . . . until . . . he pulls me onto his face and kisses me.
This time he means it.
Yes! Success!
He claws at me as I spread my legs across his thick muscular torso. I expertly undo his shirt and get my hands all over his hard naked chest and down to his abs.
Oh God, they’re solid!
A new wave of ravenous yearning sweeps over me. I press my crotch downward over his thickness while licking his neck and drawing a line down to the tattoos I know so well.
He caught me drawing a picture of them once in my sketchbook. For some reason, he got mad and ripped it out. I ran back into the house and cried. Another unsolved Trevor mystery.
Right now, I don’t care. I just want him inside me as soon as possible. As I glide myself downward, I undo his pants.
Another goddamned flash of Lukas Thorn hits me.
Stop it! Just stop it! Get out of my head, dickwad!
I grunt out loud to get the image away from me and rip Trevor’s pants down.
I don’t waste time. The cock I have sucked once before is again in my mouth.
Oh God! So good to have a cock in my mouth again! It’s been way too long!
As I suck, I catch Trevor looking down at me. His beautiful eyes are almost too much. I reach down and stroke my pussy.
I suck hard, and he launches a thick stream into my mouth.
Ohhhhhhh!
The day’s frustration, anger, energy, and sexual turmoil all rolled into one push me over the edge.
I come.
Ah.
Yessssssssssssss . . .
So good.
I rub my nub hard as more gobs of sweet white delight fill my mouth and run down my throat.
“Good girl,” says Lukas Thorn’s voice in my head from earlier.
Shut up! Shut the fuck up!
I growl out loud.
“You just came,” Trevor says.
I giggle and smile at him, swirling his come around my teeth. “Uh-huh.”
“Oh God, that’s hot! I don’t usually come that fast.”
“I do.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
I swallow the rest of him down and smile at him.
His next move surprises the shit out of me. He lifts his legs to either side of me, rips his pants off all the way, and then roughly flips me up into the air somehow. I see the ceiling for a split second before finding myself looking at the parquet floor and his naked muscular ass.
Then I’m flipped again and on my back on the bed in the bedroom, my naked protector and childhood guardian on top of me.
God, he’s like a tank. I mean, I always knew he was big. I’ve seen him with his shirt off a million times, but the sheer mass and weight of him is like being pinned down by a wall of rock.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous!” he says. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“You can have me. Take me.”
He makes a sound like some sort of animal and puts his hand over my face, scrunching it.
My body convulses under him, ready to be ravaged.
“I want to fuck you,” he says with a low hiss through gritted teeth.
“Fuck me!” I say.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you since . . . I shouldn’t say . . . since I first . . . knew.”
Huh?
Something goes haywire. My head spins a little.
No, no, no! Let’s just fuck!
“Fuck me!” I scream.
“I want to fuck you, don’t you understand? I want to fuck you so hard until you explode.”
I scream. “Then do it!”
“I can’t!”
Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, nooooooooooooo!
He meets my eyes in a frozen perplexed glare. We stay like that for a moment too long.
“What?” I say.
“You’re Smudge. You’re my little Smudge.” He grazes the back of my cheek with his hand, like he’s wiping the latex paint off my face again.
“Stop it! I’m not Smudge anymore! I’m Abigail! No, fuck that! I’m Jayd! Jayden Raye!”
“What? You’re who?”
The moment is fading. We’re talking too much. “Fuck me!”
“I can’t just . . . fuck you, Smudge. I love you too much!”
The world stops spinning. Everything goes crashing down all to hell.
I close my eyes, feeling everything implode into nothingness.
Damn. Shit.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
I push on his chest, and he rolls off me. I swing my legs around the bed to the floor, suddenly feeling very exposed, even though I’m not even naked. I wrap my arms around myself and face the floor.
“What did you say?” I say.
“I said I love you. I’m sorry, Smudge. You have to know. I can’t just do this. It wouldn’t be right. Go ahead and hate me. Go ahead. I have principles, and I can’t violate them.”
“Principles? What the fuck are you talking about, Trevor? This isn’t some goddamned movie about being noble. I’ve wanted you since the first time I got horny.”
“And that’s the problem. You’ve wanted me. I’ve always sensed that. But there’s a difference. You want me, but I love you. I mean, I really love you, Smudge. Like nobody else on earth. And I am not right for you.”
Oh God, will men please stop saying that to me!
I try to speak, but I don’t know what to say.
“See,” he says, “it’s one thing to desire someone. It’s completely another to adore and worship someone. And yet it’s completely another to love someone more than your own flesh. So that what is best for that person is your primary intent. My love for you has nothing to do at all with me. Nothing to do with my desires, even though I desire you more than any woman on Earth. But you deserve a boy your own age, not some aging bodyguard running from his own demons.”
I turn to look at him. “A boy my own age? A boy my own fucking age? Fuck you! I’m a grown woman, asshole! It’s not like I’m the little girl whose face you wiped paint off.”
“I’m fifty, Smudge.”
A lead weight drops on my head, or at least that’s what it feels like. “No, you’re not. You’re thirty-five. Forty, tops.”
“Smudge, do the fucking math! When your dad hired me to rescue Addison, I was thirty-two. You were three. That was eighteen years ago. Numbers don’t fucking lie.”
“But you can’t be fifty!”
“I tell myself that every morning when I look in the mirror, but facts are facts. It wouldn’t, it couldn’t, ever work with you and me and you know it. I would be in a position where I would be a source of hurt to you eventually. And if there’s one promise I made to myself, it’s that I would protect you from any hurt . . . including my own goddamned self.”
I rock on the edge of the bed for a while. “But I do love you, Trevor.”
“Not like I love you, Smudge. I know Chad or Todd . . . or who-the-fuck-ever . . . isn’t the guy for you, but I also know you don’t love me the same way I love you. I’m your childhood fantasy, your father figure.”
“Fuck you! You are not some childhood fantasy! And I have a father!”
Trevor laughs, then drops his voice down low. “Yeah, okay.”
We stay quiet for a very long while, not saying anything. The wind kicks up again outside, and the rain pours down. There is thunder and some flashes of lightning.
Eventually, we both realize we have nothing else to say. What else can be said?
We’re two people stuck in two different times who love each other, and yet what he said makes sense. I can’t lose him. He means too much to me. He’s Trevor, not my sexy lover, even if he is and always has been super-sexy.
Maybe some things are better left to fantasy.
I finally break the silence. “You make too much goddamned sense, Trevor.”
“I do. It’s what keeps me going. I was trained to make sense of everything. But, Smudge . . . ” He takes my hand. “. . . just knowing there is one person in this world that I’m connected to like no other.” He places my hand on his chest. “Someone to care for and love with every fiber of my being. It’s worth so much more than fucking.”
I sense wetness on my cheeks. I get up onto the bed and touch the right side of his face, his rough stubble burning my hand.
“One favor,” I say.
“Anything.”
“Hold me.”
“That I can do.”
My protector and guardian wraps his arms around me as I cuddle into him.
Soon, I’m asleep.
Chapter 4
The smell of coffee wakes me up.
Where am I?
Oh yeah, right. The Redmond Apts.
I swing off the bed and walk across the creaky floor to the kitchen. As I pass the bathroom, I notice it’s been used.
Trevor is in the kitchen, showered and shaved and ready for the day, cleaning the Keurig.
“This doesn’t belong here,” he says. “Ruins the feel of the place, don’t you think? Should be an old-fashioned percolator instead.”
“Good morning,” I say.
He doesn’t look at me. “Good morning. So, look, Smudge, I’ve got some shit to do. Your dad spent the night at the Radisson¸ and I’m going to meet him later.”
“Can’t you stay and have breakfast? I bought Hungry Jack pancakes.”
“No, but you’re safe. Stay here for as long as you want. You won’t be charged.”
“Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that.”
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
“But how can you just–”
“I said, don’t. Look, I’ve got to run. I just need to take care of something I’ve been meaning to take care of for years. Now that I’m here, I need to do it. Especially now that I’ve played a card with Rodrigo. I just announced to someone that I’m here. I need to go see . . . this particular someone. It will get my mind off this.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and meets my eyes for a tenth of a second, then looks away again with a little smile. “Couple times.”
“You know, it’s strange. We know nothing about your life before Dad hired you to rescue Addison.”
He gulps down his coffee and rinses the mug in the sink. “And I want to keep it that way.”
He’s about to walk past me toward the door, but he stops and pauses. Then he turns and looks into my eyes.
He steps forward and hugs me.
“Love you, Smudge.”
“Love you too, Trevor.”
Then he’s out the door. I grab a tissue from the box on the table and wipe my eyes.
Chapter 5
I’m barely functioning at the restaurant. I’ve already delivered the wrong food to table ten, now I forgot table twelve’s Perrier. Everyone is shooting me dirty looks and leaving tiny tips. So not me.
“Are you okay?” says Javier next to me at the coffee station. “I haven’t known you that long, but you’re off today. Way off.”
“I don’t know. I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Well, your old bat is here. She’s requesting you.”
“Oh shit no. Can you take it?”
“No, I’m outta here.”
Dammit. I don’t have time for Lorena. The place is too busy. Plus, I hate her. No, that’s wrong. I don’t. I’m just so torn up over Lukas Thorn, and she’s so a part of Lukas Thorn that I just . . . well, okay, I know it doesn’t make any sense.
“Hi, Lorena,” I say as I put a menu down in front of her. “Would you like to hear about today’s specials.”
“You haven’t answered my calls, Jayd.”
“Tonight we have a lobster flambé with orzo in a port wine reduction with mint and olives. We also have a–”
“Is it because of Addison?”
I freeze. “Addison?”
“Or is it Ashley? Did one of your sisters call you? You told me their names, remember? Addison and Ashley.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, even though I don’t remember telling her about either of them. Guess I must have at her party that night. “Why do you ask?”
Her eyes squint. “No reason. I had a hunch; that’s all.”
“Look, Lorena, I can’t talk about this. In fact, I can’t do the things we talked about before. Let’s just go back to I’m your waitress, and you’re here for dinner. Now–”
“I’m not here for dinner, Jayd. I’m here to retrieve you.”
“Retrieve me? What does that mean?”
“Jayd, I have a problem that only you can solve.”
I roll my eyes. “Lorena, it’s busy. I can’t talk.”
“Lukas Thorn has quit.”
That makes me pause. “Quit?”
“Yes, he ran out on my school and left Miami. I need him back, Jayd. It doesn’t work without him.”
“I’m sorry, Lorena, but that is not my problem. Now, I need to go get table nine’s order. I’ll bring your usual drink.”
“Do you know why you were rejected, dear?”
“I told you, I’ve got to go!”
“Because you got to him. Do you know what it takes to get to Lukas Thorn, dear? A million women have tried. You succeeded.”
I feel like my head is about to explode. I run to table nine, take their order, then to the kitchen where table eleven’s plates are up.
“Eleven is ready!” says Fernando. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Hustle, chica, hustle!”
“I know, I know. Sorry.”
I try to get my groove back by ignoring Lorena. In effect, that reduces my tables to three so I can focus better.
A million women have tried. You succeeded.
“Grrrrrrrr,” I say out loud as I carry a large tray on my shoulder to table ten, trying to shake off the thought.
But it’s no good. Out of the mouths of each of the four family members at table ten I hear the same words:
A million women have tried. You succeeded.
I go back into the kitchen. Fernando yells at me again.
“A million women have tried!” he shouts. “You succeeded!”
No, that can’t be what he’s saying. I’m lost in some sort of a mental fog.
Okay, fine. Let’s have this out.
I return to Lorena.
“Okay, what do you mean by that? No, wait, don’t tell me, this is bullshit. You and he are up to something.”
“Jayd, listen to me. You’re here for a reason. Fate brought us together. You are the only person I can trust.”
“What did you say?”
“Lukas Thorn has quit. I need him, but more than that I need to prevent him from making a serious mistake in his own life. You are a good person, and you are also the only person I’ve ever seen Lukas Thorn look at like that. Well no, the second.”
Second? Who was the first?
Dancing around tables.
“Okay, so what, Lorena? What are you asking me?”
“I have a plan to get him back. But you’re the only person who can do it.”
“Why me?”
“Because of this power you have over him.”
“Power? What power?”
“Waitress!” says the asshole at table nine. “Could you check on our steaks, please?”
“Be right there!” I say with a fake smile.
“Don’t go in the kitchen, dear,” says Lorena.
“I have to go in the kitchen! This is my job! I’m working!”
“Not for long, dear. Bogart is about to go out of business.”
“Lorena, I don’t have time for this.”
She grabs my wrist and squeezes, looking me in the eyes with a hypnotic stare from a netherworld while clamping an iron grip to my arm. I can’t seem to move.
“Waitress!” shouts someone from table nine.
“Ignore table nine,” says Lorena. “They’re going to be eating somewhere else in just a few minutes. I’m sorry, Jayd, but I had to ensure you leave this job. This restaurant is about to be shut down.”
I’m breathing hard. “When?”
“Right now.”
At that moment, a beautiful Latina woman in a black suit walks out of the kitchen holding up a police badge, her right hand resting on her gun in its holster.
Simultaneously, two Miami-Dade cruisers with sirens and lights blaring pull up front. Several uniformed officers get out, hands resting on their guns. They come in the front door.
The Latina woman cop steps forward into the dining room. She looks remarkably like the girl who was on the TV show Lost when I was growing up. The tough, gorgeous one. What was her name?
“May I have everyone’s attention please?” she says. “My name is Detective Sergeant Martinez-Vallejos of the Miami-Dade Organized Crime Section. Everything is fine, and you are all safe. But unfortunately, this restaurant is being shut down right now. Sorry to disrupt your evening, but I need everyone to vacate the premises immediately.”
There is a rumble of scoffing and arrogant remarks as everyone gets up from their tables.
“But I just got my food!” says a woman’s voice.
“Be quiet!” says a man’s voice.
Several people ask what happened, but the cop just repeats, “This is a police matter relating to a criminal investigation. That’s all I can say.”
I glare at Lorena, who finally lets go of my arm. “You did this?”
“Fernando did it to himself a long time ago, dear. I just expedited the process. Oh, you didn’t know the soup bins had hidden compartments in the bottom full of heroin?”
“Um, no.”
She stands up. “Well, now you do. Let me give you a ride to your new apartment in my building.”
“What?”
“I own the building, dear, remember? The rent will be a big whopping zero. I think you can afford it. Let’s go.”
Confused and bewildered, I’m about to follow Lorena when someone calls my name.
“Jayden Raye!”
I turn to see Detective Sergeant Martinez-Vallejos. “Could you stay for a minute, please? I need to ask the staff some routine questions.”
“Oh, of course,” I say.
“I’ll have my driver wait for you,” says Lorena.
“Lorena, no. Please. I need to get my things from . . . my friend Karissa’s place. How about if I just meet you tomorrow?”
“Fine, dear. Let’s say eleven. But, I’ll have my driver, Vargas, take you home.”
“No, really, Lorena. It’s okay.”
She squints, trying to figure out what I’m hiding from her. “Fine, dear. Eleven tomorrow at my place.”
“Can we make it later? Like two? I have something I need to do in the morning.”
“Fine. Two p.m. tomorrow at my place.”
She leaves with the other guests. Javier, the three other waitresses, the hostess, and I are all whisked to a table. About twenty other people, some wearing DEA vests, swarm around the restaurant. They must have taken Fernando out the back on Ocean Court.
In turn, each of us is questioned by the female cop who tells us to call her Sofia. She’s tough but nice. Not to mention hot. When it’s my turn to be questioned one-on-one, I can’t help but fantasize about her thick black curls flowing all around my face as she fucks me with a strap-on.
“Was that a yes or a no?” she says.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”
“Did you ever see anyone picking up the soup containers besides Fernando?”
“No, I didn’t.”
She asks me a few more questions about the basic running of the restaurant and then places a picture on the table.
“Have you ever seen this man?” she asks.
I can’t help it. My hand goes up to my mouth, and I inhale sharply with a little squeak. Damn.
Her eyebrows rise. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Shit, I’d make a terrible criminal, wouldn’t I? On the table is a photo of Lukas Thorn, in a flowing white shirt open to his waist, that goddamned evil half-smile on his face.
I’m about to speak, but words don’t come out. I have no clue what to say.
“Jayd, I know you know him. I also know your real name is Abigail Trowbridge from Concord, Massachusetts, date of birth four-twelve-ninety-four. That’s correct, right?”
“Umm . . . yeah.”
“Don’t be alarmed. I just ran a standard background check on all the employees here. But I need to speak with this man. What name do you know him by?”
My brain scrambles. “Um . . . “
“Lying to a police officer is a misdemeanor in the state of Florida punishable by a prison sentence of up to five years. Now, honey, you’re sweet. I know you’re not going to lie to me, but I just wanted you to know.”
I keep my mouth shut. Even though Lukas Thorn is my least favorite person on Earth right now . . . while simultaneously my favorite person on Earth right now . . . I’m not turning him in.
“That’s fine,” she says with a warm smile. “All we want to do is talk to him.” She takes out a card and hands it to me. “Please call me if you see him. He’s not a suspect in anything. We just need to speak with him about an unrelated matter. Nothing to do with what’s going on here tonight.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Thanks. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, I’ll walk.”
