Misters Series - Nocturnal Stories

Vera

My mind froze in that brief span of time when he came inside me. All it took was hearing the way he roared, feeling him fill me, and I came too. The orgasm was so powerful, so overwhelming, that I think it left my brain starved of oxygen. I was dizzy, drained, adrift. It was the kisses he pressed along my back that slowly, patiently brought me back.

I felt like crying because there was no going back.

I couldn't pretend nothing had happened, or that I hadn't felt him connected to me in a way I'd never experienced before. I tried not to let it get to me, tried to swallow the ache. After this-after the delirious sex, after the devastating orgasms-came the indifference. The: "It was a pleasure. See you around." But it was done. I had to pull myself together, piece myself back into something resembling a whole person, and get out of that warehouse with as much dignity as I could manage.

Alejandro stroked my arms. His kisses were small, gentle, almost grateful. I decided to stay still and enjoy them. There would be time later to cry my eyes out.

"What do we do now?" he asked, his lips brushing my neck.

"I don't know," I replied, and I truly had no idea.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

There it was: the goodbye. Well, the dream had been beautiful while it lasted.

I nodded without saying a word. I felt him slip out of me, felt his semen running down my thighs, warm and thick. And by the time I had the strength to turn around, Alejandro looked perfectly put together again.

I can't imagine what I looked like. Probably a complete mess. The animal who had just fucked me against the wall pulled a handkerchief from his jacket, crouched down, and began running it between my thighs, between my legs. Cleaning me with painstaking gentleness. Damn psychopath. How many faces did he have?

He made sure to wipe away every trace before handing me my panties. I put them on, smoothed down my dress, and he brought over my shoes dangling from two fingers. He even did that. And I had no idea where to look or how to face him.

It was very easy to fall in love with a man like that. A man built like a tower-mature, well-mannered, commanding. The kind who fucked without restraint and then treated you like a piece of porcelain afterward. Who wouldn't? Sure, he was a controlling lunatic. But he was so handsome, so sexy.

He took my hand before we left the warehouse, and at the door he kissed me. One of those kisses that leaves you drunk and stupid.

Barefoot, I followed him to the back of the building, where the parking lot was. At least he didn't make me walk past all those people. He opened the car door for me-he actually opened the door for me!-and then drove off.

In silence. I didn't know what to say and, honestly, I didn't want to talk anyway. Alejandro drove with his eyes fixed on the road. Reserved. Serious. The same poker face as always. I felt small. And even more foolish. Because there was a difference between the spoiled pretty boys I was used to-the kind whose egos you have to constantly stroke-and him.

It wasn't until we turned onto my street that I realized I'd never given him my address. He had simply driven straight to my house.

"How did you know where I live?" I asked, staring at my slightly run-down green front door.

"I know," he replied, just like that, and turned off the engine.

Of course. He could interrogate me and question me like the Gestapo demanding answers, but when it came to him, all I got was an "I know" that shut down any further discussion. I felt that familiar prickling sensation between my shoulder blades again-the feeling that he was unbearably arrogant, conceited, completely insane.

I grabbed the handle to open the door. Me and my ridiculous fantasies. The guy had fucked me, gotten what he wanted, and that was that. Stupid, Vera. I needed to get out before embarrassment took over and I told him to go to hell.

He didn't let me.

He caught my hand and gave it a tug, pulling me face-to-face with him. Two more kisses. Sweet, unhurried kisses. And at the end, a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose.

"Get some rest, Vera," he said.

I practically fled the car, almost running. My legs felt heavy. I shut the door and leaned against it. It was insane-the way he could go from ice-cold to warm without a single change in his expression.

Onur came to greet me, wagging his tail, his tongue hanging out. Standing on his hind legs, he was as tall as I was. He sniffed my legs, and I had to pull him off me. Then I heard the engine start outside and fade away. My whole body went limp, and my mind was still a tangled mess of confusion.

That was exactly why I'd spent the last year alone. Exactly why: so I wouldn't have these feelings, so I wouldn't get confused, so I could focus on my work and keep my life calm. But no. I had to meet him. I had to let myself get carried away.

I let out a cry of pure frustration, running my hands over my face. "Jesus, Vera."

Onur watched me curiously, tilting his head.

"Yeah," I told him. "Your mother is crazy. Completely insane. Tough luck. If you didn't eat like a dinosaur, I never would've accepted that job. This is your fault."

He jumped on me, licking my face. I scratched behind his ears and let him out into the little backyard. At least he didn't have to worry about anything. I envied him. His life consisted of eating, sleeping, making messes, and being my emotional support. Quite the job.

I went to the bathroom while Onur did his business. I took off my dress along the way, remembering how I'd told him I was his little little slutt, how I'd given myself to him, how I'd clung to his lips. Dying of embarrassment. I wanted to disappear.

The mirror wouldn't let me. It showed me, without mercy, what I had done with him: the mark of his bite on my shoulder, my ruined hair, my smeared makeup. And yet, the woman staring back at me looked satisfied.

My body could still feel his hands, my mouth his kisses, and between my legs I could still feel him. How long had it been since anyone had given me that kind of pleasure? I brought my hand to myself. I was still wet, with traces of his semen. My skin felt raw, and it aroused me. The touch of my fingers felt like his. Those large hands that had covered me completely. I closed my eyes and smelled my shoulder. His expensive cologne and the whiskey on his breath still clung to me.

Once again, I fell under his spell and gave in to my need.

I turned on the shower and stepped beneath it. Either the water was freezing or my body was burning. All I could do was touch myself. The sensitivity hurt, but it didn't stop me. I would have fucked him all night, through the early hours, all morning.

Alejandro.

I had a small, fleeting orgasm that left me empty. It scared me to think that I might never again come apart, never again implode, the way I had with him.

When I came out of the bathroom, there he was: my 175-pound emotional support system, staring at me. The most dependent dog I'd ever found. My anchor.

"Come on, big guy. Bed," I said, dragging myself to the bedroom.

That was my life: paint and dog hair. I just had to find my way back to that life and forget about Mr. Vicenzo. Or better yet, keep him as a memory that could sustain me whenever I felt the loneliest.

My phone chimed with a notification. It was him.

"Tomorrow at 11. Your final check."

That was it. Nothing else.

Asshole.

I wanted to throw my phone against the wall. He wasn't just a controlling maniac, a sociopath. He was a damn bipolar case. I laughed at how stupid I was, at how confused I'd been. I threw my arms and legs into the air. I wished he'd been there with me so I could've kicked him a few times.

I hugged Onur tightly. He was already somewhere far away, dreaming. I clenched my teeth and fell asleep.

"Eleven o'clock. Perfect, you damn idiot."