Page 37 of Mortala
Sneaking a glance at my parents, I gauge their conversation before returning to my phone—Dad’s eyes narrow but I let it go.Whatever he thinks he knows, he’s wrong.
Me
What happen, someone piss in your Cheerios?You know, there are more heart healthy options for geriatrics.If we need to go grocery shopping, I’m happy to help you read the nutrition label.
Klingon
Not quite, I appreciate your understanding though.
Me
Odd, never said I understood.
Klingon
Tragic.I’ll be at your apartment in thirty minutes.Bring your left over chicken piccata.I need something to eat while I’m punishing you.
Chapter fourteen
‘Lias
Ihearherbeforeshe ever makes it into her apartment—the unmistakable jingle of keys announces her arrival.Coming through the door, she flings them onto the table in the entryway, like she does everything else.She doesn’t bother to kick her shoes off, nor leave them in a heap at the front door though.The absence of their audible thump tells me she’s in too much of a rush to worry about them.Instead, she barrels down the hallway, the carpet muting her footfalls as she steps into the low light of her living room.
Her self-preservation is at an all-time low today—that or something tells her I’m already here, looking for me in the wrong places.We’ll work on that later.Right now, I’m going to sit here in the dark and watch as she searches, and fails, to find me.
My Sunshine doesn’t drink.So, I took it upon myself to bring a bottle of my favorite whiskey and use her glassware as if I own it.In a roundabout way, I do; I own her and she owns all the things in her bat cave—semantics.
Watching her has become my favorite pastime.Sports and military documentaries have lost all of their appeal, especially when she’s suspicious and cautious like now.Easing around the place she calls home—feeling danger, but not yet seeing it.Ready for a predator to jump out and gobble her up.
Skittishly, she places her to-go container on the island, leans to the left, to peek through the open door of her office.Then she shifts through the kitchen toward her bedroom, slow and easy—my timid Spawn’s ready to run.
Do it.Give me a reason to chase you.I’ll have you under me, crying before you can reach the door or scream for help.
The thought makes my cock jump—hunting her like a fugitive, forcing her to her knees, and making her atone for every second of unacceptable behavior.
One day I will, multiple times, until Pavlov himself rolls over in his grave.Punishment will be expected every time her bratty attitude flares to life; today isn’t that day, though.I want to enjoy this, to eat her alive, make her squirm and scream my name rather than letting her mouth write a check her ass can’t cash.Show her how fucking good I can make her body feel after going toe to toe with demons.
Lifting the glass tumbler to my lips, I take a sip, swishing the amber liquid around in my mouth before swallowing and savoring the burn on its descent.The clink of ice meeting the glass has her whipping around, platinum strands I’m aching to fist and use to shove her face down onto her plush bed become airborne and crash across the bridge of her nose and curve of her lips.
Blown pupils search the darkness, looking for me to pop out and scare her, but I remain seated.Instead, I shift the glass in my hold once more to make the ice sing.Frozen in place, she zeros in on me, and all of my blood plummets to my dick.Our eyes finally collide, and for a split second she has me wrapped around her finger.It’s short lived when hers narrow and the lips I’ve been craving begin to move.
Lifting the glass again, my pointer finger sticks out in warning.She stops herself, her smaller hands flexing defiantly at her sides.Thin digits twitch rather than form fists, because deep down I know she’s dying to touch me too—violently, reverently, hungrily, doesn’t fucking matter.
“Before you start running your mouth, you’re already owed punishment.Don’t make it worse by pushing your luck.”
She seethes beautifully—don’t think I’ve seen someone show as much hatred with so much elegance.She’s all sharp features, eyes glowing through the low light, and crossness I’m eager to take out on her soft skin.
Thank my lucky stars for a photographic memory because I never want to forget the look on her face, especially when I spank every bit of arrogance out of her.
Placing my drink on the small table to the right of the chair, it clinks when the two surfaces meet—the loudest sound in this massive living space.She’s too far away for my liking, but the moment I tell her to move, her body won’t—that mouth will.
Standing, my jacket slides off and drapes over the back of the chair.I take my sweet time preparing for her, placing the items from my pockets next to my abandoned drink, allowing anticipation to set her on a bladed edge.
I haven’t heard from her in over a week.I panicked, looked for her mugshot in inmate listings, checked hospitals and the morgues.Had something happened, Kace would have told me, but when you’re invested as much as I am, overthinking is second nature.The radio silence had me losing my fucking mind.Here she is, though, in a cute little sun dress and sandals.Hair pulled back in a long ponytail that hangs in the space between her shoulder blades, perfect for me to fist and lead her around with.
The second my client released me, I made a beeline for this apartment.
Still in my duds—black slacks, button-up, and Oxfords—I start on the sleeves next.Cufflinks ease from the button holes where they’ve suffocated my wrists for hours.As my deft fingers work the fabric and fold the cuff, cool air races over my tanned skin.The pressed cotton strains around my forearm, becoming more difficult to roll the closer it gets to the ditch.One step after the other, I close the distance while working on the second cuff and sleeve.
