The feeling in her gut doubled, making her feel like she was in need of a new pair of underware, as the current pair began to become soaked. It hit her then. What he had said earlier. 'You don't want me to leave. I can smell it.' Had he meant that he could smell her? Smell her getting aroused? The red in her face deepened..
"Get out of my room." She said softly in a strained whisper.
"You don't mean that, darling." He chided, coming one step closer, then another, "I think we both know what you really want." He was so close now. Close enough to touch. Close enough for him to touch her. She kept her eyes on his, even as the grasp of his right hand loosened, and sheet fell, her own hand on the blade getting tighter. "Let me give you what you need," he pleaded, those eyes of his imploring her to give in, one hand reaching to touch her face, "keep the knife if it makes you feel safe, but please for the love of god, let me touch you."
And just like that, the naked stranger she had met at the club, began to kiss her. Grinding against in the same way as when they had danced. Only something was wrong with this picture. Some key articles of clothing had yet to be removed. She groaned, hoping it would be enough of a submission for him to understand. Just when she was turning to complete putty, he pulled back, those pupils dilated, "Turn around."
His instruction made her suspicion rise, but another kiss, a raspy whisper convinced her, "trust me."
From each side, his hands framed her hips, while his mouth began sucking and biting at the skin of her neck. 'God, why does this man have this effect on me... I'm not this easy...ahh!'
An irreversible gasp escaped her as one hand suddenly shot down into her underwear, cupping her bare and virginal mound. The heat alone made her desperate to chase this heat, made her hips jump on their own accord. He was only too happy to serve. Taking his middle finger, he circled her clit, exactly the way she liked it. 'How did he...for fucks sake who cares?!'
That same finger, now extremely wet, prodded at her, touching places no other man had. With a bit of pressure, his finger began to move in and out, again and again. He bit hard at her neck, and she cried out as it seemed like his hand was moving too fast to be real. The pressure began to build. It was too much, it was too good. "That's it darling, come for me." He encouraged, not slowly down. The sound of his voice made her tight hole spasm hard around his finger, and triggered a long orgasm. One she felt almost lightheaded from, and leaned back into his arms. "My darling Mia, I finally found you."
Her eyes flew open, wide. A cold sweat enveloped her body, and she was cold. Feeling the chilling sensation of ice against her back, she lifted up into a sitting position, finding her hand down the boxer shorts she had put on before going to sleep. "A goddamned dream," she cursed, getting up, shivering. Every bit of the water and salt mixture, had turned to ice. This happened to many times. Waking up in the middle of the night cold, covered in frozen sweat, afraid of her own shadow. It had been like this for years. This nightmare was different this time; it had started as a dream of this stranger. Her teeth chattering became too loud even for her, breaking her out of the current thought. She put herself together, went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on. While she waited for the water to heat up, she gazed at her own reflection. Her brown eyes and hair seemed ever darker against her pale skin, appearing the perfect image for an Ice queen, blue lips and all. She would warm up, and then she would get the hell out of here.
Tossing the last shirt in, she eyed the grey backpack. It was one the only things that remained from the shadow of a life she once had called her own. Despite her current way of life, she kept it with her. Not only because she thought it best to travel light, but because it served as a reminder of what she was running from.
With a deep breath, she looked over the place she was leaving as she sprayed it down with air fresher almost to the point she couldn't breathe, and began to choke. This made it less likely someone would be able to track her by scent. And if she had learned anything in the past three years, it was that she couldn't leave things to chance. Right down to covering her scent by bleaching everything she could, collecting every bit of her hair she could, and spraying down the motel with another fragrance, anything that could risk her being found.
Outside it was nearly dawn, the sky barely turning from black to a dark navy blue. Backpack over her arm, she raced down the stairs, as quietly as she could manage, keeping tabs on her surroundings. No one appeared to be up at this hour, which for her, was the exact reason she had chosen to leave now. At ground level, she found a less than humble car. In fact, it wouldn't be amiss to call it a downright clunker. There was a subtle dent on the driver's side, the brown paint was starting to flake away, and the passenger's side had duct tape over where the widow was missing. This hunk of junk Toyota was exactly was she needed.
After peeling the duct tape back, unlocking the passenger door, and sliding into the driver's seat, she was overwhelmed by the scent of cigarettes which stung her nose, and made her all the more eager to find the right wires her hand was currently searching for. After fiddling with it for about a minute, she finally got the engine to start, and headed for the right side roads to take her to the next town. Though eventually she knew she would have to hop on the interstate. Providing this clunker held it shit together, she might actually get to the next town in time for breakfast.
