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“That the family of the girl they found at Alex’s hotel is not wanting to settle.”
Fuck. There was more to Alex’s case than the public even knew, and a lot was kept private, despite the interest of reporters like Mila.
“How did you hear about that?” I sighed.
“Tommy.” She laughed, “It only took a few bats of my eyes, and he spilled the beans.”
I shook my head, annoyed that Tommy—my own fraternity brother—would so easily divulge in private information. It was a bad look for the firm, one that could ruin our case if it ever leaked out. “I don’t have to tell you this, but you know not to say anything.” I warned, squeezing her foot in a massage. She purred sweetly but gave a mischievous grin.
“Is it true then. They found the girl in his bed?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“You should…” she toyed. “If not me then at least tell your precious Gemma. I’m sure she would want to know what happened with her boy-toy at The Pierre Hotel.”
“Gemma is smarter than that.” I spat, unaware of how harsh my tone was. Mila pouted, and that expression made me feel remorseful, almost like Gemma’s. I continued to massage her foot, growing more upset. I wasn’t annoyed with Mila but more so myself. The way she labeled Gemma as ‘my precious’ made me feel both transparent and foolish. Outside of that, the indication that Alex Rivers was somehow her boy-toy made me sick. I couldn’t tell Gemma a lot of things, exclusive not only to Claire, but also to Alex. I knew she could take care of herself, but that didn't make me feel better. Maybe I needed control, maybe I was just incapable of caring any less than what my entire heart felt.
“You’re the one that said he was dangerous.” Mila reminded me.
“Yes, I know.” I reflected, trying to ignore the fact that Gemma brought Alex to Claire’s house today. Why him? I had always been there for her, yet he was invited to a place she never let me see. I was jealous to say the least, and a part of me was hurt. I suppose it was selfish, expecting the complete truth from her while keeping secrets myself. Still, I watched from afar, anticipating Alex’s moves before he could take them. I wouldn’t let him hurt her, or anyone for that matter. I never wanted to see that sad little face again, the one that made me want to find Gemma, to hold her and tell her everything I ever wanted.
“Well, if you’re making her feel better, who’s making you feel better?” Mila asked.
“Myself.” I answered quickly, “That’s no one’s job but my own.
“Wrong.” Mila corrected, “It’s my job now, and I would do it happily.” She pulled her legs back, sitting up on her knees along the couch. Her tight black dress creased along her hips, hugging every line of her gorgeous body. “How can I make you feel better?” She asked, her soft fingers traced my chin. The natural rasp of her voice was tempting. It was something that momentarily distracted me from the things I felt but, of course, came with its own unique sense of remorse.
“Gemma’s in the next room.” I whispered, telling Mila but reminding myself.
“I can be quiet, not like last time.” She reached down, her small hand wrapped along my thigh. “A part of that was your fault though.” She narrowed her eyes, “You fucked me too good.”
Maybe that was true, and maybe I fucked her good because of the angst Gemma gave. Only with Gemma in mind could my cock curve with such an erection, almost painful without her imagined touch. Mila didn’t make it easy to say no, her own breasts pressed together, aching to be sucked. I chewed my lip, discontented with my urge to be a decent person, but to relieve the stress I felt with not having the woman I truly wanted.
“Only cause I fucked you hard.” I admitted, remembering how frustrated I was that night. Mila was sexy, even I could admit that, but I couldn't help but feel that our relationship was more about convenience than passion. Gemma needed to see me live a normal life, and Mila needed insight into Alex’s case. We seemed to help each other out; me with the legal information, and her with the appearance that I was a taken man. I didn't feel good about doing it, but maybe I cared more about Gemma feeling assured, than my own sickening guilt.
“We need to take things slow.” I added, knowing that last time we slept together was a mistake. I was already frustrated as it was, not having Gemma how I truly wanted. It was as if I couldn't get her out of my head, especially the visual of her changing in the closet. I watched her that night, invited into her room, lying on her bed as she dropped her robe. My cock grew stiff at that thought, the visual of her round ass that tempted to be touched. What I wouldn’t have given to reach out, to have yanked her close by the straps of her panties alone. Zipping up her dress, god that visual, it was an insight into the future I’d wanted for so long. Could she tell I was on edge, that seeing her bare shoulders being covered up drove me mad?
Even tonight with her outfit, I wanted so badly to pull her hips down into the couch, to lay her on her back. I’d slip those pajama bottoms off her legs, if not rip them off with the strength of my hand. I begged to feel the warmth between her legs, to lick her like a dog. Fuck if I didn’t feel like a piece of shit, and how my erection twitched at the fantasy.
“What if I suck you off?” Mila asked. “I’ll let you come in my mouth.” She stuck her tongue out, as if to show me the perfect place to come. It made me grow harder, the unique cocktail of shame and arousal. I wanted to bend her over, to plow myself into that little pink pussy of hers and have her scream my name. Maybe then I could lose myself, if not just for a moment. My sweats were no longer loose but tightened by my sudden growth.
Without thought, she pulled my pants down my hips, springing my cock loose. She squeezed my shaft, constricting the steady flow of blood that pumped harder against her grip. Resisting sex was damn near impossible, and though I said our relationship was convenient, it didn't mean I hadn’t hoped for something more. This idea of a normal life was not only for Gemma, but for myself.
“I want to be kind.” I assured, a vague request to let me off easy, her temptation left me both guilty and undeniably hungry.
“What if I want to be fucked?” She asked, “Will you make me feel better?” My answer to that would be yes. I wanted to be sweet to Mila, I wanted to care for her just like she deserved, but I knew I needed time. Would there ever be enough? Yes, I could fuck her, I could make her come like I did that night. But I’ll never forget walking in on Gemma, her body wet with bubbles in the tub. I wouldn’t admit it, but I saw her perfect little tits, peaking from the water. If I could’ve, I would have pulled her out of the bath and slipped her right over me. I’d suck those perfect nipples, making those little nubs red with the nip of my teeth.
It was bad enough that I already came to the memory of her, beating myself off into a sputtering mess while in the shower that very next morning. If only she’d been in there with me, I’d shoot myself all over her stomach. I’d watch as my filth dripped down to her beautiful cunt and into the drain. I wanted that now, maybe alone in the bathroom.
Mila straddled my lap, placing her hands around my cheeks. She leaned in for a kiss, her dress pulled passed her panties, whose chic black lace pinched between her lips. She was warm, or at least her pussy was as it pressed against my cock.
“Do you care for me?” I asked. I wanted her to say no, and maybe that would make me feel like I had more time to develop feelings.
“I think that’s apparent.” She shrugged, “I’m having fun, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” A half-truth, focused on the promise of sex rather than the pain in my heart.
“Then let's enjoy that. Just like you told me about your candy, I’m trying to show you something.” Her sultry whisper was sweeter now, more caring, “What if it changes your life?”
