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“They’ve all just turned up at the hospital, they passed out, carbon monoxide poisoning, there’s a gas leak down in the tunnel, Colt-”
“Gas leak? Shit!”
“Yeah, they’ll be fine, some geophysics guys have come and surveyed the site, there’s a natural fault line apparently, some pocket of gas that’s escaping into the tunnel… but you know what this means… the Demonios all died from gas poisoning…
“Phantom was lucky to make it out alive,” Carmelo continued, his voice clear over the sizzle of the cooking meats Phantom stood beside. “In fact, by leaving to go and try to kill the limo driver… it probably saved his life.”
The words of the Sergeant bounced around inside his skull. He didn’t kill them all. He didn’t kill them. He definitely didn’t kill them.
“Gas poisoning probably left him feeling confused, disoriented… the limo driver with the slit throat is another story, but the rest of them… no.”
He felt the guilt lift. He felt the darkness dripping off him, like dirty water. And he had just stepped under a shower of hot, clean water. He felt the clouds lift from his sky. He wasn’t guilty of mindlessly killing them all. He wasn’t a killer. Well, he was, but he’d killed on purpose, with intention, in the past. Mindfully, for a reason. Not the mindless slaughter of the people he once counted as his family. The knowledge of that changed things. Changed how he felt about himself. How he felt about Sophie. He felt like he could deserve her after all.
He felt free. Free to fuck Sophie into tomorrow, safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t a completely underserving demon after all.
He wasn’t going to fucking kill her, he was going to fucking fuck her. She wasn’t going to die under his hands, she was going to tremble and melt and come. He knew he could do it now, and it changed everything.
He whipped out his phone and his hands flew over the keyboard.
“Sophie. Tomorrow, closing time, I’m coming for you.”
She ached for him. The text she’d received. “I’m coming for you”. It swam before her eyes as she had read it. What was he coming to do? She didn’t know, she wasn’t sure she fully understood, but she would be ready.
Especially what had happened at the farmers market. The licking. It was like he rode in like a white knight in shining armor. No, he was a black demon. She was like a princess waiting for the kiss to break the spell. Instead his hot, wet tongue had thoroughly lathed up her face, leaving even her hair wet. She’d had to wipe it, her parting had frizzed up after that. She was on tenterhooks all day about whether he’d come back or not. Wet and aching. She wavered between thinking he definitely would. She was excited and nervous about what that would mean. Would it mean sex? A quickie? Another plunge inside, making a connection, but not driving toward an ending. Or would he move this time? It was clear they had unfinished business from earlier. She felt it in him, in the way he trembled as he’d held himself over her. The neck bite, it wasn’t to keep her there, in place under him. It was to stop himself from doing anything further.
She couldn’t help her mind racing ahead of her. But if they did take things to the next level, then what? Would it be just a one time thing? Would he not come back again? She’d normally date a man before sleeping with him. She’d normally have had all evening, a nice dinner, drinks, coffee perhaps, conversation, glances and flirting and giggles before anything else. Multiple text messages, a few phone calls. They wouldn’t have had sex before any of that. They wouldn’t have already gazed into each other’s eyes as he’d pushed into her in the darkness and she’d opened her wet, needy core to him.
She was normally fairly confident that she was enough for the man, too. That she knew how to pleasure him, she knew what to expect from him. She wasn’t 100% sure with Phantom. What if he wanted to do things she couldn’t? Or would he not come at all? Was it just bravado or the rush earlier? Would he have forgotten, or look back at their interactions with cold contempt? He probably wasn’t used to receiving a tender caress to his lips, her chattiness. He probably wanted her to shove her breasts in his face, like Lyle did earlier to Penny, or maybe he expected her to drop to her knees and please him. That’s what bikers wanted, wasn’t it? That’s what they expected. He’d said nothing all week. Just looked and simmered and sighed. Yes, she had seen he often sported a hard-on. She’d noticed that. The bulge, the outline of his large, pierced cock in his jeans. She had tried not to look, from a sense of modesty, but then she had wanted to look so much. He hadn’t seemed to notice it, there had been no embarrassment, no concern for hiding it. He’d just sat there, with his legs spread, his gaze raking her, lingering on her body, her breasts, even her crotch. Unashamed. Unabashed. And what he had done earlier... give me a taste, she had said. He’d literally devoured her. He’d made her come, the anticipation and excitement had got the better of her and she had split into a thousand pieces at his bold, confident move. And what was worse was that she still wasn’t even satisfied, she wanted more.
She pottered about in the shop, fantasizing, cleaning scoops, throbbing inside. Sealing the lids, ensuring everything was ready for tomorrow. Then, it was time. She closed the shop, flipping the sign on the door to ‘closed’. She peered out the window at the dusky light, but couldn’t see him. The day was giving way to night.
He didn’t speak, how far could she have a relationship with someone who didn’t speak? How could she tell what he thought of her, how could they get to know each other? She needed to coax him into her circle of trust. If only she could lay a trail of ice cream she thought ruefully. She had a sudden moment of impulsivity. She wanted to shock him, amuse him. She wanted to see him smile. Surprise him. She could lay a trail of ice cream, quite literally.
She wanted to shock and excite him. How do you shock and excite a man like Phantom? He seemed comfortable with physicality. Not words. Her initial idea about a date, a coffee or a glass of wine in a bar so they could chat, that wasn’t going to cut it. She wanted to meet him where he was comfortable, in the language he seemed willing and able to speak. Her gaze fell on the tub of vanilla ice cream. His text message flashed in front of her eyes. “I like vanilla”. She had an idea.
She wanted to tell him she wasn’t just ‘little miss vanilla’. She wasn’t just a lady with a cafe, she was ready for him. She was prepared, not just prepared, she was eager. She wanted him, all of his roughness, all of his darkness. He didn’t need to hold back. She wanted it all. She wanted to show him she could take it. She wouldn’t break, she wouldn’t scream. She could be what he needed. What he wanted.
She grabbed the ice cream tub, and a scoop, and headed into the back room. There, she opened up the tub of mini M&M’s, too, little chocolate balls covered in multi-colored sugar coating. She grabbed a roll of the blue tissue paper. Her heart was thumping. This was either a terrible idea or a great one. She began ripping her clothes off, pulling her T-shirt off her head, tugging her bra and tossing it to the side. Then slipping off her sneakers, kicking them away. Wiggling out of her leggings and pants at the same time. It must be closing time now. He might be here any minute.
She hitched herself up and onto the clean metal worktop. It was cold, and she realized her skin was hot. There was no time for second thoughts or to change the plan now. She swung her legs up, grabbed the tub of M&M’s and the scoop. She began to shovel scoop loads onto her crotch, where her pants had been moments before. She’d never felt M&M’s down there before. She scooped and scooped, until her groin was covered in a mountain of candy between her legs. They shifted as she shimmied down to her elbows, reclining. Then, carefully now, she grabbed the tub of vanilla ice cream. She listened out for the bell, for the door. Nothing yet. She slowly dragged a small scoop from the vanilla ice cream. And placed it carefully on top of her left breast. Her nipple was erect. It was hot and throbbing and burning. Would the ice cream stay there? It was cold, burning cold. A hiss escaped her lips. Yes, the underside melted a little to allow the small scoop to rest on top neatly. She slowly did the same to her right nipple, too. She should have got cherries to balance on top, as well.
She gently pushed the tubs away, and lay back completely. Her heart pounded. The cool from the worktop had faded now, she was probably making it warm. The icy burn on her nipples from the ice cream, though, was not fading. It was shocking and pleasurable in itself. She was ready, waiting. She took a breath, gently, hearing the M&M’s shifting slightly with each breath. Still no door opening. This was okay, she told herself. She breathed again, to steady herself. She felt her heartbeat calming, slowing to a steady pace. Now she turned her mind to anticipation for what was about to happen. If this hadn’t been what he’d intended he was in for a surprise. Hopefully he wouldn’t react with disdain or horror at her misunderstanding. She pushed that aside, along with any images of her having to clean herself up, half an hour later, if he didn’t show.
She closed her eyes and imagined him coming through the doors. He would stop, immediately take his clothes off, then approach her. His body would be fantastic; all muscles and tattoos and maleness. He would take her on the counter after licking the ice cream and candy off her. They would have mind blowing sex. She had never really had mind blowing sex. She wanted to put the ice cream on his nipples. Lick it off him.
And while she was lusting after his body, lying there with scoops of vanilla ice cream covering her nipples and a heap of mini M&M’s covering her mound, the front door lock clicked open. The bell above the door tinkled. Phantom. He was here.
She turned her head to the doorway. But she couldn’t see into the shop from this angle. She heard him close the door. She heard him bolt the door. She heard him step quietly into the shop, toward the counter.
He didn’t move for a second, and then she heard his footsteps approaching the back room. The self assurance in his steps–he knew she would be here, waiting for him. It was darker now, much darker back here, she hadn’t thought of that, could he see her? She was about to take a breath and call out to him, but then his shadow appeared in the doorway.
When he’d opened the door to the shop, he’d been surprised. She wasn’t there. He’d pictured her hovering behind the counter, where he normally found her. Or maybe she’d be in the front of the shop, waiting for him. But the front was empty. He had wondered if she’d left already. He’d come in anyway and locked the door behind him to ensure they had privacy. He didn’t want anyone busting in on them, not for what he wanted to do. He wanted to take her. He wanted to feel her quiver and gasp and scream under him. He wanted to hold her little body as she shook. He was going to make it happen, tonight.
He’d stalked through the shop, she must be in the back, cleaning up. The light wasn’t on, but he headed that way anyway. It was dark. Not pitch black, how he normally liked it, but dark enough, gloomy. What if she asked him what the hell he was doing here and why had he come back? What if she looked at him like he was a freak? Said she didn’t want to see him. What if…
The what ifs died. He’d stepped through the doorway and his eyes adjusted to the lower light levels. Something caught his eye. Right in front of him. A steel topped work counter. And what was on top of it. Holy fuck. Was he dreaming?
She was lying on the counter. Laid out for him like a buffet. Like his fantasies come to life. Gloriously, beautifully naked, her lithe body fully reclined, her arms above her head, one knee slightly bent, the other straight. His mouth went dry. His cock stabbed into his jeans. He gritted his teeth and stepped closer. Just one step, scared to come too close in case it was a dream, a mirage. In case she disappeared before his eyes.
