Ethans Fal (12 page)

“That was you on the beach earlier, wasn’t it?” She slows her chewing and sips her coffee. Her expression is guarded and I find I’m intrigued to know so much more than she clearly wants to share. My voice is softly coaxing. “I saw you on the beach. It was pretty early. Did you have a late night and get locked out?” I sniff out a laugh and shrug like we’ve all been there.

She swallows, and now that her plate is empty, she carefully places her cutlery neatly down the centre, and dabs her mouth gently with a napkin. Who knew I had napkins? “Something like that.” Her voice is barely a whisper and she leans into my hand when I tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Her eyes meet mine and she looks startled, delicate, fragile, and I want to grab all that uncertainty out of her.

“Okay.” She exhales, and my smile starts to spread across my face with an unbridled sense of achievement. Buddy can suck it. I have earned
that
privilege and all it took was some bacon and a fried egg. “How about I go and get a brush and some bands, and we can braid each other’s hair at the same time.” Her fingertips clip my jaw shut. I would be pissed, if her smile hadn’t just hit me like a sucker punch. She’s so fucking beautiful when she smiles playfully but fine…let’s play. She stands and takes both our plates. I knock them from her hand and send the dishes crashing to the wooden floor. Her gasp of surprise and the worry that flits across her face is perfectly placed. She should be worried. She attempts to retreat, but with each slow step I advance with a much wider gait toward her. The gap closes; the heat builds.

“Ethan!” Her tone is a warning, but I don’t head it. “Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you; to be rude.” She places her hand on my bare chest. Her fingers are so soft and firm, the pressure goes straight to my balls.

“No?” I tilt my head with disbelief.

“Well, I did, but I didn’t think you–”

“Didn’t think I would what? Be offended? I’m not.” I snap my interruption and Ada jumps. My jaw clenches because I fucking am. I want her to tell me, to be the one she whispers to, not Buddy. That she would joke about it just pissed me off, but she doesn’t need to know that. “But you were rude and after my hospitality, I think it’s only fair that I return the sentiment.” I step up, quickly taking her in my arms, and walking her until her back is pressed against the wall. We hit with the force of my eagerness and our momentum. She gasps and I groan. My mouth covers hers; her hands fist into my damp hair and she pulls me with equal ferocity against her mouth. I can’t get close enough, and there are too many damn clothes in the way. I keep my mouth soft and urgent, kissing and sucking her lips, not giving her the chance to voice her protestations. My hands grab the edge of her oversized sweatshirt. I could slip it off her shoulders it’s so fucking big, but I pull it and another sweater over her head. I tug at her ugly misshaped grey sweatpants only to find another pair of jeans underneath.

“Jesus Christ, woman, why are you wearing so many layers?” I see her hesitate, and her eyes flash with a reservation I am far too gone to want to explore–another time maybe but not right now. “You know what? None of my business.” She smiles and her shoulders sink about an inch with her relaxing breath. She eagerly helps with the buttons on her shirt and jeans, and once the T-shirt is gone, we are down to gold. Bra and panties, and flawless, silken skin. I step back and drag my eyes up her mostly naked body. She starts to cross her arms, but stops at the slow shake of my head.

“I don’t think–” She starts to voice her concern, but I growl my interruption.

“Hmm…and I
think
that is a great idea. Don’t think.” I hold still and I can hear her heart thumping; the rhythm is hypnotic. I place my large hand on the centre of her chest, just above her soft swelling breasts, and I take a moment to enjoy the racing beat. I push my body flush against hers, and drop to my knees in reverence at the offering before me. I keep my hand in place and she watches me with trepidation in her eyes. That’s why I know this is an offering. She is so unsure but so driven by her desire, she is utterly helpless to resist what is about to happen. It feels like she is sacrificing something deep inside; her face is etched with a world of turmoil. I should stop…this girl screams complication with her secrets.

Despite her struggle, unlike before, she is right with me–every breath, every beat–and right now I’ll take her sacrifice if it means I get to be inside her. I need to be inside her. I drag my hand down the centre of her body, and I can feel her shaking, her deep blue eyes wide with tempered lust. Fuck that, I want her wild with lust…I want that passion–that fire. I want us to burn in it.

Her skin is impossibly soft, and a deep guttural groan rises from the pit of my stomach when I peel her panties down her legs to reveal that she is bare and glistening with her own arousal. She has an intricate tattoo just above her pubic bone; not permanent, some sort of henna. It’s pretty, delicate, erotic–just like her. She tenses and whimpers, her hands pulling the strands of my hair so tight I would think she doesn’t want me to lick her into next week. “You want me to stop?” I blow a little puff of air on an exhale, and she practically jumps back up the wall.

“Oh, God, no! Please don’t do that.” Her little panting pleas are all the encouragement I need– almost all.

“You’re gonna need to loosen the vice grip on my hair then, baby.” My wide smile is met with an embarrassed flush to her smiling cheeks.

“Oh, sorry, it’s just been a while.” She bites her lips tight and frowns, unhappy with the disclosure. Well, that sort of information is private, I guess. I am pretty much a stranger; one who is just about to–

“Holy Fucking God!” She squeals when I drag my tongue and swirl it from her very centre to her very swollen tip. Hmmm, I hum and breathe in her scent–ocean and sunrise, sweet and musky, and not enough. Her legs start to shake violently and I have to hold her tighter than I normally would–unless it was intentional. I fight to keep her upright, she is wound taught with sexual tension. One of her hands is braced against the wall, the other has found its way back into my hair and is progressing nicely at scalping me. I growl into her folds and she freezes, her grip relaxes and I resume, because
this
is the best fucking breakfast.

“Ethan…Ethan…I…I.” She pants and squirms against my mouth. I take one hand and thread my fingers through hers against the wall. Holding her tight, we’re both white knuckled with the grip. I slide my other hand between her legs and push my two longest fingers inside her delicious wetness.
Shit, she is so fucking responsive, I can’t wait to sink inside her.
My balls ache at the glacial pace I’m setting, but I’m in no hurry–I have all day. I curl my finger deep inside and apply just that little bit of pressure. At that moment, I am glad my neighbour is hard of hearing. Ada’s voice tears from her just as her climax rips her apart. She clenches and quakes in my hand, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing I have seen. She sinks down the wall and slides into my waiting lap–soft, sated and pliant. She sighs and tightens her arms around my neck.

Long moments pass and I don’t know what I’m waiting for, because my balls hurt enough that I should have her nailed to the floor right now. But this just feels too perfect, I can wait. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, and I get this strange, warm surge of hubris in my chest. Her fingers trace my lips, which curl into an unstoppable smile at her gentle, reverent touch. I lean down and she reaches up to cover my lips with soft sensual kisses. But her kiss is a little more firm with its finality, rather than teasing and seductive. “I have to go.” She jumps from my lap so quick, I topple back, sufficiently stunned with the erotic U-turn.

“I have to go.” She speaks slowly, like she would to a child, and by the look on my face the confusion means she repeats with a qualifying statement. “I have work to do.” The speed at which she is dressed, should be in some record book. I am still shell shocked in my shorts with an equally record breaking hard on.

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” I hate that I sound as hurt as I am, but she just blindsided my A-game.

“Oh, and….um…thank you.” Her smile is incredible and if I wasn’t so fucking mad, I would say she was adorable, edible, all over again.

“Consider it my donation to charity.” Okay that was low, and I physically cringe when I see her reel from shock. I add quickly because her eyes would cause bodily harm if they could. “Stand down. I meant my apartment.” I sweep my arm around at the area of concern. She is hardly playing nice herself, but she didn’t deserve that.

“Oh, don’t fucking worry,” she counters. “I’ll be back to clean your apartment before the party. But then we’re even.” She storms to the door, pulling the last of her many layers roughly over her head. She is swamped by that thing and has a look of vulnerability that doesn’t sit right. Fortunately, due to the way she just blue balled me I don’t give a shit how vulnerable she looks.

“Ada, I don’t think you understand. We are so far from being even.” My voice drops and her eyes widen. Oh, good, she does understand.

“SHIT! SHIT! SHIIIIIIIIIT!
” I scream into my scrunched up sweater, muffling the sound to an early morning appropriate volume. I throw my head back and look to the heavens.
What were you thinking, Ada? Jesus what was that?
I mean, I know it’s been a while–I’m not talking about the two or three encounters I rushed into right after my escape from the facility. They were a knee jerk reaction to a desperate need to feel normal, because fucking strangers is normal, right? Those don’t count because first, they didn’t
count,
and I ended up feeling less connected, a little sad, and a little less like me. Second, I quickly decided a good hug from Buddy gave me all the intimacy I craved and failed to get from fucking a random guy. No, I am talking about my time with Cal…someone I had had the deepest connection with…someone I loved. Cal was good–no that’s unfair, Cal was amazing –but even with him I never came like
that
…ever! My hand hovers on the rear entrance door of the apartment building and I look up the stairwell. Ethan’s hooded eyes shine with a deep desire that zeros in with military precision…right where his tongue just left me gasping for more.

His heavenly, talented lips curl with a knowing grin. He puts his fingers against his mouth, and I think he is going to blow me a kiss, but he slips his two middle fingers inside and slowly draws them back out, sucking them clean.
Holy fuck!
I want to run back up the stairs and start all over again. My breath hitches and I have an internal debate about my work commitments and whether I really need to eat today or not, when he helps me make the right decision.

“Don’t forget your rubber gloves, Ada. I’m just about to make a real mess in the shower!” He calls out, and I can hear his belly laugh even as he slams the door shut.

“Shit! What a fucking, arsehole!” I am shaking with pent up rage and frustration…mostly frustration…sexual frustration…damn it!

“Wow, Ada!” I cringe at the familiar but reprimanding tone of Ethan’s sweet hippy neighbour, Burt. “You are an angel, and angels don’t use language like a sailor on leave.” He holds his elbow for me to help him down the last few steps on to the narrow back street. He is not so old, maybe late sixties, but has bad knees and crippling arthritis in his hands, which is why he keeps painting. That is how I knew him before I knew he was Ethan’s neighbour. “Off to Sheila’s I take it?” I smile and nod. I’m a creature of habit and Burt is familiar with my morning routine at least. “Well, let me escort you on this most
interesting
morning.” His cheeky wink is replaced with a look of misplaced innocence.