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five
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Evan says as he meets me in the hotel lobby the next evening. That isn’t exactly a greeting; his entire demeanor is that of a man wound tight and grumpy. “How the fuck am I supposed to leave for a year now? And to another continent?”
His words mimic my emotions. I’m unsettled. Out of my mind because she isn’t here.
Ever since Mila left my side yesterday to meet with old friends, I’ve been struggling with my responsibility. Something that brings me joy now feels like a giant, yet almost impossible hurdle.
How will I feel when I’m thousands of miles away? How do I leave her?
“Timing is shit,” I admit. Not that I would change a single second of meeting Mila. That sweet little morsel is my reward for all the good deeds I’ve done. She’s mine, and I like it.
More than like.
“Tell me about it.” Evan strains his neck looking for his own interest. We’ve yet to discuss them, but seeing his own desperation settles me. Can’t be that crazy if he’s been knocked on his proverbial ass, too.
Fate is a psychotic mistress, and she’s having fun at my expense. I wasn’t looking for Mimi, but here she is, and I’m not letting go.
Is this all too fast? Yes. Do I care? Not a single fuck is being given about timelines or rationality.
There’s something there, and I need to figure it out.
I spent the drive home yesterday lost inside my head, trying to work out the logistics of my leave and new relationship. All I’ve done is think:
While watching reruns of Married with Children, I tried to come up with a way to make this easier for her.
While trying to nap, I replayed our kiss while pushing down on my cock—failing at finding relief for the ache she creates.
While in the shower with her name on my tongue, I gave in to my urges and fucked my fist. Each stroke bordered on painful as I imagined her sweet lips stretching around my cock—humming at the back of her throat as her fingernails dug deep into my thighs.
Pleasure and pain. Motherfucking bliss.
“Come on my tongue, Nick. Let me taste you.” That was my undoing. Her whispered words around my girth broke me, and on my next stroke, I came. Spurt after spurt dribbled down the tile wall as I tried to regulate my breathing—to not fall on shaky legs.
That’s the fastest I’ve ever come. The hardest. And I’ve only kissed the girl.
“A week won’t be enough time,” Evan whispers harshly, and my eyes snap back to his; it’s easy to get lost inside my head when thinking about her. “None of this makes a lick of sense.”
Subtly, I adjust myself. Just thinking about the mouth on her has me throbbing. “I know.”
At that he looks at me, his face serious, more intense than in any emergency we’ve been through. “Where did they come from?”
“Not a clue, bro.” My eyes travel from his to the elevator bank. “Not a fucking clue.” There’s a ding and the doors open, but it’s not the girls. An older couple steps off, and I swallow my curses. Instead, I try to make conversation. “Are you working at all this week? Have you already set yourself up for the leave at the clinic?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Everything is covered, except a follow-up consultation I’m handling on Thursday. Nothing major; an appendix removal that went well.” Bringing his hand up, he checks the time on his watch—purses his lips and then flicks his eyes back to the elevator. “Checking incisions for swelling or infection before I hand him over to my partner.”
“That’s it?” Again, the elevator reaches our floor and a family of four gets out this time. What is taking her so long?
Once more, I am stricken by my need for her, the yearning to have her close always.
Could I take her with me? Yes, but that wouldn’t be the responsible thing to do. A disaster-stricken country with an active volcano still threatening to erupt isn’t the place for her. She would be away from family and friends; months with little to no communication for days on end depending on where I’m at. Being alone most of the day while I work grueling shifts to supplement the country’s need for healthcare might make her bitter toward us.
I can’t have that. Decisions have to be made.
But then again, not going isn’t an option—Mila wouldn’t allow it—but after this contract, I’m done. Leaving her this soon after finding her is pure misery; I’d rather go back to working stateside in areas hit by natural catastrophes. Somewhere she can come with me, maybe even volunteer if she so desires.
My mother is going to love this. Love her.
“Yeah,” he says, and then grumbles something low while pulling out his phone. Three swipes of his finger, and the annoyance disappears. “They’re heading down now.”
