SILK Volume Three Page 3

  Good people like her don’t suspect how manipulative and devious people like I can be when we want it.

  “What are you planning to do today?”

  I pull her to me and nuzzle her neck, knowing that it’s a fifty-fifty shot if I can even fuck when I’m this high. I want to, though. I want to be buried in her wet cunt or have her down on her knees sucking my cock right there in the doorway.

  “Don’t know, but I have some ideas about what I want to do now.”

  We haven’t made love since she came here three days ago, so my newfound desire for her pleases her more than I imagined. Running her hands down the front of my pants, she unzips them and takes my semi-hard cock in her palm, stroking it from base to tip. I might not be able to get a hard on like this, but the touch of her hand on my skin feels fucking incredible, like every sensation is twenty times more pleasurable than ever before.

  Kristina looks down at my hardening cock and licks her lips. “Follow me.”

  Taking my hand, she leads me to the bedroom, and as I watch mesmerized by how much I love her, she slips out of her clothes and beckons me to her. By the time I reach the bed, I’m out of my own clothes and my cock is more than willing, but I can’t be sure if I have to face her while we make love that she won’t realize I’m high.

  So even though I know it may still upset her, I roll her over on her stomach to take her from behind. She doesn’t say a thing and angles her ass high in the air so her pussy is right there for me.

  I stuff my hand in her hair and tug her up off the bed as the first inches of my cock are swallowed by her willing cunt. She’s hot and wet and all mine.

  In her ear, I groan, “God, I fucking need you, Kristina.” I mean more than just to fuck her, but at that moment, she thinks it’s just sex talk and moans as the base of my cock pushes up against her body, fully nested inside her.

  She’s as eager to please me as ever, so once I establish a rhythm in and out of her, she begins her own, meeting my thrusts as she pushes back against me. I love this about Kristina. Whatever we are when my cock is buried inside her isn’t just me fucking her but the two of us together moving toward that sweet moment of oblivion when her cunt contracts around me and I flood her with cum.

  As I think about all of this, she moans, “Ian, I want it faster. And harder.”

  Gripping her sides, I ram my hips forward and fill her fast and hard, just as she asked. She gasps but after a moment repeats for me to go faster and harder, pushing back against me as I remain inside her.

  As much as I can in my state, I fuck her exactly how she wants it. Her hands grasp at the sheets and she moans over and over as I inch her closer to her release. I feel her body begin to surrender to my invasion, the walls of her cunt gently squeezing around my cock as she orgasms harder than I’ve ever felt her come before.

  “Ian, don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

  I don’t and she continues to shake from coming until I finally pull out, still hard since I haven’t come yet. Heroin may make the sensations of sex one hundred percent better, but coming isn’t one of those parts that are improved.

  Kristina collapses on the bed and rolls over to look up at me. Her expression tells me I satisfied her, but when her gaze falls on my still hard cock, she frowns. “You didn’t come. Why?”

  I can’t tell her the truth, so a little white lie has to serve. “I wanted you to suck me off. You know I like that.”

  Her frown disappears, replaced by a sexy, devilish grin. “I do. You like to see me taste myself on you, don’t you?”

  I nod and pull her up toward me, loving the idea of her mouth around my shaft. I still might not get off, but the feeling of her soft lips and tongue riding up and down my cock will still be incredible.

  She kisses me so full of love that for a fleeting moment I hate that I’m lying to her as she lowers herself to take my cock inside her mouth. Kneeling in front of me, she looks up and runs her tongue over her lower lip, like she’s dying to taste something she loves. Pulling her hair off her face, I close my fist around it while I gently caress her gorgeous mouth that in the next moment I’ll fill with my cock.

  Any regret for what I’ve done vanishes the second she gently sucks the head and moans against my skin, sending the most exquisite sensations up and down my shaft. I pull her down hard on me until she’s taken every inch and I’m bumping up against the back of her throat. She never closes her eyes as I fuck her mouth just like I fucked her pussy.

  I want to come. I want to fill her mouth until cum oozes out the sides and drips down her chin like beautiful lines of white love she gives me. My brain wants to, but my body has other ideas because of the heroin.

  Kristina sucks my cock like every stroke down my shaft brings her happiness. Her blue eyes stare up at me waiting for the moment when I look like my release is just upon me, but no matter how long she tries, my body isn’t letting it happen.

  I massage her jaw, knowing she’s hurting, but I don’t stop her. I’m selfish and a fucked up prick for not letting her just sit back and have her orgasm without me having one, but I don’t push her away. Instead I watch in wonder as her head bobs up and down into my crotch, and with each pass I know it’s hopeless.

  The junk has taken away another good thing.

  Finally, she looks up at me with hurt in her eyes like she’s done something wrong or she’s deficient and that’s why I haven’t come. I shake my head and ease out of her mouth as that twinge of regret finds its way back into my mind.

  “I thought you liked how I do that,” she says in a sweet voice that makes my heart feel like someone’s run it through.

  “I do. I just can’t now,” I answer in the kindest voice I can give.

  “Oh. Why?”

  I look away, afraid she can see the truth written all over my face. I’ve never felt so bad when I was high. Was that stuff my editor sent over shit?

  “Ian, look at me. What’s going on? Is there someone else you haven’t told me about?”

  Jesus, the pain in her voice is killing me. I can’t do this. “Kristina, it’s nothing.”

  The silence that follows makes the room feel like she and I are miles apart and she’s receding more and more every second. I can’t look at her and see the hurt in her eyes, so I just keep my head hung and wait for her to say something.

  Anything but that she needs the truth.

  But she doesn’t need it. She already knows. “You didn’t stop, did you?”

  Again, silence, but this time it’s me who can’t bring myself to say the words. Instead, I just shake my head.

  A sound like a gasp is all I hear, and then the bed moves as she stands up. I turn to see her getting dressed.

  “Kristina,” I begin, but stop, knowing she doesn’t deserve some watered down excuse for why I’m like this.

  “I should have done what I said I would when you told me what you were. I couldn’t, though, so I stayed and believed you. What a fool I am! I’ve seen this so many times and still I thought you’d give it up for me.”

  “Don’t,” is all I can get out. I don’t want her blaming herself. She isn’t the fucked up one.

  “Don’t what? Don’t feel like an idiot that I believed you and went against everything I knew I should do?”

  I sit back against the headboard and close my eyes. I don’t want her to blame herself. I just don’t know what to say. It’s sad, really. A fucking author who can’t find the words he needs to say to say to the woman he loves.

  “I know you said you’d leave, but don’t. Stay. Show me you love me enough to stay.”

  The sound of her pants rustling as she pulls them on makes me open my eyes, and suddenly, I see her lunging toward me on the bed. Before I can lift my arms, she’s on top of me swinging her arms wildly. Her delicate fists hit my face as she sobs words I can’t understand.

  I deserve whatever she does to me, so I don’t try to grab her wrists to stop her. Maybe if she hits me hard enough or I have to watch her cry for long
enough I’ll finally get it through my head that I shouldn’t be a slave to this shit I crave even now.

  “Why, Ian? Why would you do this? Am I so unimportant to you that you’d pick drugs over me?”

  Her beautiful mouth—the mouth that made me want her from the moment I first laid eyes on her on my television screen—twists into a terrible frown as the tears roll down her cheeks from those cornflower blue eyes I love so much. Her face looks ravaged by sadness.

  Sadness I caused her.

  “I don’t want to do this, Kristina. Believe me. I want to stop.”

  At the moment I say that, I mean every word. I do. I just can’t see how I’ll stop, though. It’s been only a few weeks, and all the progress I made over the past nine months is all but lost.

  “I can’t stay here with you. I can’t watch you throw your life away, Ian.”

  She moves to leave, but I can’t let her. I can’t lose her.

  Grabbing her arm as she crawls off the bed, I stare up into those gorgeous eyes so full of pain and worry I can’t change her mind. Like when she was sitting there on the floor with me the night she came back, it feels like we’re miles apart.

  I’m losing her.

  “Please don’t leave. I’ll stop. I swear I will. Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. Just don’t leave.”

  She shakes her head and begins to cry again. “I can’t tell you what to do. That you don’t know if you do this you’ll lose me tells me all I need. I have to go.”

  Yanking her hand from my hold, she runs out of the room as I scramble to my feet. I reach her just as she hits the front door, and knowing this might be my last chance to ever convince her I love her, I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

  “Let me go! I can’t do this, Ian! I can’t!”

  She writhes in my hold and I barely hang on, but finally she stops and collapses against my chest, sobbing, “I can’t do this with you. I love you too much to see you ruin us like this.”

  “Stay with me, Kristina. I’m begging you. Stay even though I’m fucked up. Stay even though I made the biggest mistake and you think you can’t forgive me. Just stay.”

  For the longest moment, she says nothing and all I can think is I’ve lost her. I laid it all on the line and still she won’t stay.

  She begins to push against my hold, but instead of leaving she turns around to face me. Her cheeks are tear stained, her eyes rimmed with red, but I see love in them still.

  “Why can’t I leave you? Why after all these weeks without you does the thought of losing you now make me feel like I’m losing part of myself?”

  I cradle her beautiful, sad face and nod because I know exactly what she feels. The mere thought of my life without her in it is too much to bear. Leaning forward, I kiss her with all the desperation inside me and when I finally pull away, I wipe her tears and say, “Because you love me as much as I love you.”

  “We’re a mess, Ian. This love is crazy and hurts so much that I don’t think I can go on.”

  “Stay even though everything you know about me is bad.”

  Closing her eyes, she presses her forehead to mine. “You aren’t bad, Ian. I don’t know why you’re like this, but you’re not bad.”

  “I’ll stop. Don’t leave me. I can do this. I can quit it.”

  “Oh, Ian, what if we can’t get through this? What if this is just who you are?”

  Pulling her to me, I kiss the top of her head. “I can’t believe that. I love you, Kristina. Since the moment I met you, I’ve been crazy about you.”

  She hugs me and whispers, “I don’t know what to do. I love you so much, but this scares me. You won’t pick me when it comes down to it.”

  “I will. I’m picking you right now. Stay with me no matter what I become, and I promise when this is all over we’ll have a new start.”

  She kisses me with such sadness I’m sure the next word out of her mouth will be goodbye. But then she smiles sweetly and I believe I can give up the junk for her.

  Never before in my life have I been so certain I was making the wrong choice, and still I don’t leave. I look into those nearly jet black eyes staring at me so desperately as Ian waits to hear he hasn’t lost me and I can’t.

  I can’t leave him. Whatever this is between us—love, lust, or obsession—I need it. I need him. For the past five weeks I’ve walked around feeling like part of me had been torn out and what was left when I looked down at my phone and saw him tell me goodbye was an emptiness inside that ached day and night.

  But he won’t choose me over the drugs. I knew that when I told him I would leave, and I know that now as he pleads for me to stay.

  And still I can’t say goodbye.

  I push his unruly black hair off his forehead and sigh. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life as I am right now that you’re going to break my heart.”

  “Give me the chance to prove you wrong.”

  Looking down, I can’t help but smile. He’s naked at his front door begging me to stay. But then I remember he snuck that terrible junk in and it’s still somewhere in his apartment. Angrily, I say, “You need to get rid of any you have left, or I’m gone. Period.”

  He nods, but I can see he won’t be able to throw it out. “I don’t want this job, Ian, but if I’m going to stay, I’m staying on my terms. That leaves or I leave.”

  His hand slides down my arm, and he weaves his fingers in mine as he leads me back to the bedroom. Pointing at his pants, he says quietly, “Back pocket. And there’s probably a tiny bit left on the edge of the tub in the bathroom.”

  A surge of anger races through me as I remember standing in the doorway to that bathroom after my shower feeling all clean and fresh and ready to spend the day with him and all the while he was high already. I reach down and find a plastic baggie with white powder in the back pocket of his pants.

  “This is it?”

  “Yeah,” he says in a strained voice as he stares at it in my hand.

  “Fine.”

  Turning on my heels, I walk to the bathroom that until now had held the memory of that incredibly sexy lovemaking session we’d had that one night. From this point on, now that will be joined by the memory of me scrubbing the edge of a fucking bathtub so he can’t find any more of his drugs on it.

  I flush the powder down the toilet and clean the tub from top to bottom like I’ve never cleaned before in my life. I’m like a woman on a mission as I scrub and scrub that white marble tub until my right bicep feels like it’s going to blow out of my arm. With each push of the sponge, my hair swings in my eyes, and for a moment I remember the bathroom cleaning scene in the movie Mommy Dearest as Faye Dunaway scours that tile floor while her poor little daughter watches on in horror.

  The sound of Ian’s footsteps on the tile as he enters the bathroom takes me out of my daydreaming, and as I wash away the last of the cleanser from the edge of the tub, I can’t help but say, “Some glamourous life of a movie star, huh?”

  “I’m sorry, Kristina.”

  I think he’s genuine when he says that. I do. I just don’t know if it matters much. I dry my hands on a towel and see my fingertips are all pruney like they used to get when I was a little girl and spent too much time in the bath at night.

  Ian looks lost, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Is he unsure what to do because of how angry I seem or because he’s craving more of the heroin I just flushed down the toilet? As if he’s reading my mind, he says as he takes my hand to kiss the back of it, “I don’t know what to do when you’re like this.”

  “Like what, Ian? Hurt? Angry? Worried that the minute I turn my back on you that you’re going to have some guy come to the front door pretending to deliver something from that fuck of an editor?”

  Letting my emotions out should make me feel better, but the sad look in his eyes just makes me feel terrible for being so angry at him. Hanging my head, I admit, “I’m no good at this. That’s why I told you I’d leave if you went back to doing d
rugs. I’m not kind enough or sympathetic enough to be what you need now.”

  “You’re exactly what I need now. I don’t need someone to believe my lies when I say I don’t want heroin more than anything else in the world at this moment. I don’t need someone who’s worried about hurting my feelings. I need you to kick my ass and make this real for me because if you don’t, I won’t be able to do this.”

  I sit on the damp edge of the tub and look up at him. “Do you really want to keep doing that more than anything?”

  His expression twists into a grimace, like what I said hurt him, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s how it is with me and heroin. Nearly a year without it, and now all I want is more.”

  “More than me,” I say sadly, hating the truth.

  Ian takes my hands in his and squeezes them. “No, not more than you. It’s not the same. I love you. I need you. That shit fucks me up and takes control of me. You make me happier than I’ve ever been before in my life.”

  “You said you were addicted to me. Why can’t you want me more than you want this?”

  I sound childish and naïve, but that’s how I feel. The fact that he could feel more for some white powder in a plastic bag than he feels for me is tearing me up inside. No matter how I try, I can’t understand how that could be.

  He gently pushes my hair out of my eyes and bends down to kiss my forehead as he whispers, “I hate that my weakness makes you doubt yourself. Don’t do that.”

  I hang my head, and he pulls me to him to hold me. With my cheek pressed against his side, I tell him the truth. “I love you, Ian, but this hurts so much. Why did you have to go back to that awful stuff?”

  As he gently strokes my hair, he says, “I’m an addict, and I turned to the one thing that I knew could take the pain away. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I’m like this.”

  Looking up at him, I see he’s hurting still. “Why didn’t you just call me? I would have taken the pain away.”

  “You were the reason I was in pain. I missed you so much while I was in Italy and couldn’t deal with it, and then when I saw that magazine that said you were in a torrid love affair, I just wanted to forget. I just wanted to close my eyes and not hurt anymore.”