Chapter Thirty-Four - Ixion
I’m waiting for her when she comes home, my cameras trained on the front door like a cat watching a hole in the wall for a mouse.
She is rumpled. Hair tousled, breathing hard, cheeks red from the cold, and beautiful in all her disheveledness.
I feel like maybe this is the real Evangeline. That this stupid goal of spying on Jordan has taken her somewhere she’s been before, but hasn’t been back to in a very long time. Like it’s giving her power.
Why? I have no idea.
But I think… I think I really like the powerful music maker.
She takes her coat off, throws it on the floor, then her gloves, and her hat, and her sunglasses. She looks up at the chandelier. At me, looking at her through the black bulb. “What the fuck?” she screams. “Why can’t I just catch a break? I mean, I’m out there, putting myself out there, and he even looked at me! Waved! And this stupid guy who thinks… I don’t know what he thinks… is distracting me, asking me out on a date! A date?” She shakes her head, like the idea makes no sense to her. “I just want a few moments to spy on Jordan. Is that too much to ask? Where else does he go? You have to know. Tell me. I feel like I’m making an effort here and the universe is just laughing in my face!” She squints her eyes up at the camera bulb. “Are you laughing at me?”
I chuckle. But say nothing. Not even a push of the intercom to let her know I’m listening.
“I know you’re listening,” she says, eyes fierce, expression defiant and vulnerable at all the same time. “Say something.”
I take a sip of the coffee I got while I was out. Enjoy it.
“X,” she says. “Are you there?”
X. Just hearing her say my name makes me want her. It’s so close to what Jordan calls me. Ix. X. So close.
“I’m going upstairs,” she says.
“Good,” I say, but only to myself.
“I’m gonna put the blindfold on,” she says.
“Perfect,” I say.
“I’m gonna wait for you.”
“I’m gonna make you wait.”
She starts walking up the stairs, then turns about halfway up to stare at me again. “You’ll come, right?”
My heart skips.
“You will,” she says, trying to convince herself. “I know this probably isn’t easy for you. And you probably have a million better things to do with your life right now than babysit me.” She pauses. “But I’m glad we’re doing this. I… I think I like you.”
And with that proclamation, she turns her back to me and disappears.
I am so stunned at her admission, I don’t even follow her on the cameras. I just sit there in front of the monitor, wondering… wondering how I got here. And wondering what I did to deserve this chance.
Because that’s what it seems like all of a sudden. Not that I’m here helping her, but she’s here helping me.
The stories we exchange are sad, but beautiful too. They’re desperate, but bring a sense of peace.
It makes me wonder if she’s getting better because of me? Or Jordan?
I’m dying to know the answer to that question.
Especially since I’m starting to figure out why I’m really here.
And it’s not her.
But I want it to be her.
I don’t make her wait too long. Not because I’m feeling generous or anything. But because I think I need her tonight. I think I’m going enjoy this a lot. Because I sense that she’s not as fucked up as she thinks and our time together in this house is drawing to an end. It hasn’t even been a week, but we’re almost done here.
Almost. But not quite.
So I get up, take off my clothes, check the mirror and wonder if I should shave. Decide no. I want to eat her pussy and I want the stubble on my jaw to scratch the sensitive skin on her inner thighs raw.
I want her to remember what we do at night when, tomorrow, she leaves here again looking for the man who isn’t me.
When I climb the stairs leading up to the third-floor bedroom I realize I didn’t check to see if she was wearing the blindfold. She could be waiting in there to ambush me. Eyes open. She’ll know everything if she is.
But I open the door without knocking anyway. Trusting her.
She’s lying down on top of the white down comforter, legs straight, arms at her side, the tie wrapped around her eyes just like she’s supposed to be.
Trusting me too.
She exhales as I stand over her. Sensing that I’m close, maybe fearful I will leave if she moves. She stays absolutely still.
“Touch me,” she breathes.
I want to talk to her so badly. I want to say so many things about what she’s been writing in our book. I want her to know I’m listening. I’m here. I want to help her.
And I want to know what she thinks about me. The things I’ve told her.
Her hand reaches out, finds my bare leg. She sucks in a breath, surprised that I’m naked. But then her palm flattens on my thigh, her fingertips stroking me softly.
I close my eyes. Lost in her touch. The moment. Not caring that everything we’re doing here will end soon. I have her for now and that’s all that matters.
My knee sinks the mattress next to her hip. The other leg swings over her body until her legs are between mine. There’s a crinkle in her forehead, like she’s closing her eyes tightly underneath the silk tie, not wanting to see the truth, but eventually, she’ll have to. She’s gonna come to terms with her life. Maybe I’ll come to terms with mine too?
I stare at her face. Her tongue darts out, swipe across her lips. Wets them.
The smile on my face is between her legs a moment later. Licking. My tongue probing between the lips of her pussy until I find her clit. I take it gently between my teeth. She whines, then lifts her hips up, pushing my face deeper. She tries to open her legs, give me better access, but I hold my position, not yet ready to give her what she needs, still enjoying the tease.
“Take my blindfold off,” she says.
I stop.
Her hands finds my head, urge me to continue. But I just stare up her body. Past her peaked nipples, to her sweet face.
I shake my head no.
“Please,” she begs, still pushing on my head. Hips still moving. Like she wants to grind my face on her pussy.
I ignore her verbal request and sit back, taking both her hands in mine as I pull her up as I lie back. She gets what I’m doing. She gets me. So as I lie back, she scoots up, and even though I won’t let her take off the blindfold, I will grant her nonverbal request. Her legs settle on either side of my head as she lowers her pussy down onto my waiting tongue.
I close my eyes and lick her. Tongue sweeping back and forth, stopping at the nub of her clit to flick it until she arches her back so far, the tips of her long, dark hair brush against my hands holding onto her ass.
She lifts up just a little, giving me more access, and then begins to rub her pussy against my unshaven jaw.
She will have a rash in the morning. And I’m gonna make sure she thinks about what I’m doing to her all day long.
She’s inhaling, exhaling. Long, breathy pants that get louder and louder as she slides her pussy against my chin. My tongue tickles her clit, making her squeal, and then her hands slap down on the bed above my head and she really begins to fuck my face.
I push a finger into her asshole, remembering how much she liked that last time, and decide I will fuck her in the ass before she leaves this house for good. I will take her every way I can think of before I let her go.
She comes in my mouth, my tongue lapping up the gushing wetness of her climax. Her legs straighten, flatten against the outside of my thighs as she slides down my body.
For a second her blindfold slips and I think, Shit.
But she adjusts it. Puts it back into place, still sucking in air like she will never get enough. Her body trembling slightly, her muscles fatigued from suspending herself over my face.
I flip her off me, pin her to the bed, and then allow myself one more transgression…
I say, “Now it’s my turn,” in a whisper so low, it barely counts as words.