me believe
life had that in store for me.
And he made me want it.
Ava. The memory of his deep, drowsy murmur assaulted my brain.
Hearing that, he took it all away.
So I got the fuck out of there.
* * * * *
Fifteen
and a half hours later…
My eyes opened when I heard the
banging on the door.
I stared at the clock on my nightstand.
Jeez, it was after midnight.
Well, one couldn’t say this kind of
thing didn’t happen occasionally. I had a variety of feelers out on a variety
of things and information trickled in in a variety of ways.
However, none of it had ever
trickled in by banging on my door in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe in the
not so wee hours of the morning, but everyone knew not to disturb my neighbors.
I threw back the covers, opened my
nightstand, got my stun gun and flipped it on.
I stomped to the front door of my
apartment and aimed an eye to my peephole.
Then I whispered, “Fuck.”
Ren was standing out there, head
turned to the side looking absently down the hall.
By the time I got to the door the
banging had stopped, but as I kept looking out, wondering what to do, I saw him
turn his attention from the hall to my door. I noted he looked a might angry,
and I heard as I watched him start banging again.
It would appear he wasn’t going to
go away. And seeing as I kind of liked my apartment, but mostly liked that my
neighbors were all pretty cool—either old as the hills, thus went to bed early
and didn’t have the energy to get in my business (outside of finding it
diverting, should they bump into an informant in the hall), or young and hip
and digging the life of living in the awesome environs of Washington Park (much
like me)—I wanted to stay in that apartment. And some hot Italian dude banging
on my door might wake my neighbors and make them tetchy.
So I turned off the stun gun and
set it on table by my door. I threw back the chain, unlocked the locks and
pulled open the door.
“God, Zano, are you trying to wake
the dead?”
This was a pertinent question,
seeing as some folks in my apartment building had one foot in the grave.
I didn’t get the chance to share
that info with Ren. His eyes pinned me to the spot and I was right earlier. He
was angry.
“What the fuck?” he asked.
“What?” I asked back.
“What…” He took in a breath through
his nose. “The.” He went on and kept scowling at me. “ Fuck? ” he finished tersely.
I was confused, and I wasn’t a big
fan of being confused. Especially not late at night when a hot guy who had
fucked me but who was in love with a good friend of mine was banging on my door
and asking me bewildering, but clearly angry, questions
“What the fuck what?” I asked.
He kept scowling at me.
Then it became apparent he was done
simply scowling at me. I knew this when he put a hand in my belly, shoved me
back and followed me, walking right into my apartment.
He slammed the door.
I lost my mind.
“Zano, hello? ” I snapped. “I didn’t invite you in. And something to know
about me, I’m not the kind of girl who gets off on some guy doing whatever the
hell he wants to do, especially around me, and especially especially when it happens to be something I don’t want him to do.”
“You invited me in, Ally,” he
replied. “Around the time you came when my mouth was between your legs on my
stairs. Then again when you came when my cock was driving into you in my bed.
Then again when you wrapped your mouth around my cock, also in my bed. And
a-fuckin’-gain when you found it while riding my cock, also in my bed. And
last, when you wrapped your sweet, hot, naked body around me and passed out in my bed. ”
Okay, I’d had a variety of Rock
Chick chinwags where the girls let it all hang out about their guys and how
they communicated in Asshole, but I’d never experienced it personally. And Ren
had just demonstrated he was fluent in Asshole.
It must be said, I didn’t like it
much.
Therefore, I invited