Aston's Story (Vanish #2) (2 page)

I feel the whiskey burn in the pit of my gut, it’s nice and
warm. “Naked,” I say. “Leaned against the couch.”

She steps back, holding my stare, as she lifts the ends of
her shirt over her body. She isn’t wearing a bra, her perfect breasts point her
hardened nipples my direction. Her skin is slick, glistening with the dim
lighting. Her hands ride over her tits, along her ribs, then down to her jeans.
They pop the button and draw down the zipper. I just watch while she shimmies
out of them, down to her thong, a tiny black thing that does only enough work
to cover her most private area. She turns away from me and bends forward, her
upper body leaning over the couch, her gorgeous ass beckoning. Her thumbs slip
beneath the straps that wrap around her hips and pull. The thong glides out
from between her buttocks and drops to her heels. Naked, tan, smiling, perfect
Auna awaits my touch. I can’t help making her wait for a moment.

I pour another shot and throw it back before I round the
side of the bar and step up alongside her. I stare into her eyes which sparkle
with a lust I want to consume. I place my hand on her back, level with the
floor, dipping from shoulder blades to ass. I examine the whole of her. Auna,
you are the perfect devil. Lead me into your sin.

“You’ve been bad,” I tell her.

She smiles and nods. “I was,” she says. “I’m sorry, Mr.
Moore. Are you going to fire me?”

I shake my head slowly from side to side. “No.” My hand
slides along her back to the precipice of her ass. “I’m going to punish you.” I
lift my hand and strike it swiftly across her left cheek. It bounces, the sound
reverberates through the pool house, and when I look at it, a red mark rushes
to the surface. She moans. I’ll feed that guttural sound with every ounce of
me. I strike her once more, harder, and her body lurches forward before
rebounding. She growls.

“I’ve been really bad, haven’t I?”

I nod. I place my hand beneath her chin and squeeze her jaw.
Her lips pout. Their shape makes a heart and for a moment I think of one
bleeding. I run my zipper down and pull my hard cock out. I pull her mouth
towards it and watch while she slips it into her hot, wet mouth. She moans as
she slides it deeper, and I feel her voice reverberate down my shaft. I smack
her ass again and hold my hand against it, gripping the fleshy buttock with a
ferocity and a fear. I won’t let go. I pull her face further onto my cock, let
spit dribble down her chin before I pull it off.

Auna takes in a deep breath, her chest heaves, and her
breasts dangle. I grab hold of one by her soft nipple, forcing her up against
the couch. I lean my body against hers, my suit rubs against her skin. I wrap
my fist in her hair and pull back. The sweet expanse of her neck stretches out
beneath my lips and her racing pulse bulges a vein beneath it. She moans,
pressing her lower body into mine, rubbing my cock against her stomach. I can
feel the heat of her belly radiate into my erection. I stare into her eyes, and
despite the darkness I feel boiling up from the recesses of my lust, she
remains playful. I reach a hand between her legs and shove two fingers inside
her, soaked in her gushing juices. They race down her legs and into my palms as
I work them in and out of her. I release her hair from my other hand and wrap
it around her neck, pulling her face into mine, but refusing her lips.

“You enjoy this? You enjoy your punishment?”

“Yes, Mr. Moore.”

I take my fingers out of her pussy and shove them into her
mouth. She sucks them with a veracity that fills my cock with blood. I take
them out, wrap both hands around the back of her head and pull her mouth into
mine, shoving my tongue inside, lashing at hers. Her hands wrap around my back
while we kiss deeply. I inhale her. It’s not enough.

I pull her away, turn her around, and bend her over the end
of the couch. I spank her ass once, throw my jacket to the floor, and tear my
white shirt from my chest. The buttons scatter, then the shirt follows. She
throws her hair over her shoulder staring back at me. Her hand reaches back,
her fingers glide along my chest, down to my abs, where they rub against my
muscles. I grab hold of her hips and thrust my cock inside.

“OH!” she screams.

I thrust harder, faster, listening to the pounding of her
ass against my body, the sound of her buttocks patting and her wet pussy taking
this hardon. It’s still not enough.

I pull out, grab her arm, and spin her around. I grab her
face. “Have you learned your lesson?”

She shakes her head.

I wrap my hands around her thighs and throw her over the
couch. She squeals while I pull down my pants and kick them from my feet. I
come around to the other side, cock pointing seven inches in front of me. She’s
rubbing her clit watching me, my hand shimmying up and down my shaft while I
stare through the fire in her eyes to a place I can’t make out. I step closer
and she lunges forward, pulling me into her, wrapping her lips around my wet
cock and lashing her tongue across it. I can’t describe this feeling, but I
want to remember the words that best capture it to memorize them and return to
them every day until I die. Jesus Fucking Christ.

I throw her head back and push her body into the cushions,
face first. I straddle her ass and lower my face down towards it. I kiss the
curvature of her back into the valley of the small of it and back up to the
mound of her behind. I slip my tongue between her cheeks and glide it down. She
screams in pleasure as it reaches the erogenous zone of her anus, then further
into the slit of her cunt. I suck the flavor, pulling through me and into my
bones. I want all of you.

I lay atop her and press my cock between her legs. It drives
straight into her pussy and I begin pumping her mercilessly. She lifts her left
hand around and latches onto my neck, pulling my mouth into hers once more.
When we kiss, I feel it pushing through my cock, a surging rush of cum
threatening to burst. I wrap a hand around her neck, holding her head back
while I bite into her bottom lip and feel her pussy clench and release into a
powerful wave that rushes over her body. I feel it spread through her skin as a
warmth I want tingling through me. Shit, I can’t hold back any longer. I pull
myself out of her, wrapping my fist around the end of my cock, aiming it at her
sweaty, round ass. I spray white across her skin as I listen to her moan. “Give
it to me, Mr. Moore.”

“Take it all--you--fucking--sluuuh,” I empty and lay back
into her, our sticky bodies pressed together. My heart’s pounding, but through
the thumping sound, I hear her giggle and pur. She turns her head over her
shoulder and kisses me once, a brief, soft peck.

“Did you enjoy that, Mr. Moore?” she asks with a smile.

“Auna,” I start. I’m breathless. “Where did that come from?”

“You never roleplay? It’s fun.”

I kiss her perfect shoulder. “Yes,” I agree. “It is.”

It’s fun, she says. Is that what she thinks of me? “Auna,” I
repeat.

“You like my name? You say it an awful lot.”

“I think if I believe in it, it will summon you.”

She laughs, which settles into, “Mmmm.”

I think if I believe in it, your name will keep you with me.

A buzzing steals the moment. My phone rests on the marble
counter and when the plastic shakes against it, the whole room fills with the
obnoxious sound. I grunt as I stand, careful not to disrupt her repose. She’s
beautiful there, laid naked across my couch with my cum smeared across the
astounding skin stretched taut over her ass. I’ll hold this image in the
forefront of my thoughts until the taunting thought of still not owning her
burns it. Will she stay? How can I make sure?

I nearly trip over myself thinking as I rush over to my
phone to shut it up.

But the screen reads a name I can’t ignore. Nate Hardy. My
best friend Nathan. Auna’s ex Nathaniel. Westwood Valley Deputy Hardy. My rat.
Pig rat’s don’t make erroneous calls to the drug dealers they’re secretly
supporting.

Shit. I have to go.

4.

The blood’s still wet, pooled around the head of a puffy,
purple face I can’t stop staring into. There’s a hole almost perfectly in the
center of his forehead and his eyes have this wide stare going on that’s
quickly replaced the image of Auna on my couch. I feel like swinging my leather
shoe into it, if it weren’t for the distinct possibility I’d smear flesh and
blood and godknows across the underside of my dress shoe. I think I’m entertaining
the idea for the sake of levity. There’s a dead fucking body laid out in front
on me, for the first time in my life, save for a handful of funerals. Those
bodies were cold and grey. He’s young, fresh, and murdered. I feel my hand
start to shake so I stuff it into my pocket.

The room is a disheveled collection of drug paraphernalia,
shitty old porno mags, and a random assortment of likely stolen clothing. A
handful of bills leave a crumb trail through the kitchen to the backdoor. This
was a drug den. Here, on the outskirts of Westwood Valley, the collected
assortment of outcasts live out their exile. Mostly, they’re harmless. But now
there’s a wolf in their midst. A backstabbing brute of a bouncer by the
deceptively simple name of Al.

“Tip got called in maybe a half hour ago. They weren’t even
sure it was a gunshot,” Nathan says. He’s standing beside me, close enough for
the work of a whisper, but he dispenses with discretion. He knows no one’s
listening. At least, there’s no one that matters, not here. I’ve never been
here. I’m itching to leave. “I’ll put the call in for the body when you leave.
We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Great,” I say, imagining all the time in the world spent in
this shithole must be the center ring of hell. The air smells toxic. I shove my
hand deep into my pocket, nearly tearing at its seams.

“You wanted to know,” he comments.

I look over at his face. He’s a tall guy, I have to look up
to meet his line of sight. His big nose protrudes above his small mouth, and
light stubble stretches across his cheeks, then down his throat. He’s thin, and
hunched. I think he’s probably depressed, the way he carries himself and how
his words come slurred together and monotone as they slip through his
tight-jawed mouth. Who wouldn’t be after losing Auna? It’s been a year, but the
man keeps dragging himself around like it was yesterday. Sometimes I feel
guilty, until I realize it’s the way the world works. The meek will never
inherit the Earth. “Is there enough to nail him?”

His thin lips perk at their edges, threatening to smile.
Somehow, I amused him. “What, like forensic evidence? Not likely. Most murder
cases in Westwood Valley solve off of eyewitness accounts. We don’t have many
people premeditating around here.”

“Ballistics? Gun powder? Anything?”

He just shakes his head. I want to swipe at it, but at the
same time, I just want to buy the sad sack a drink. I do, frequently. When he’s
drunk, he likes to talk about when we were young. He was more lively then, but
still just as quiet and unassuming. He wound up on the force by way of
suggestion as opposed to the perceived obligation of duty. It’s what made him a
good friend all these years, and especially since I started selling. I’m still
at the start line, though. My first package, totally fucking bungled.

Light flashes over the face, for a moment I think he’s
coming back to life. Then I look behind me at the blinds as they sway, passing
the incoming bars of streetlight over the decrepit residence and slipping along
his dull expression. He’s only dead. I think for a moment what I would look
like after a perfect headshot like that. My shivering hand grows cold and I
squeeze my fingers together to warm it back up.

“Al,” I say, I guess in contempt, but partly also in awe.
He’s a true beast, I’m coming to realize. I’m facing the abyss of humanity now.
While I embrace the truths found in our shadows, I do believe in ethics. This,
this shit, fuck. The reeking, festering, violent stage sprawled out before me
showcases his depravity and the willingness to commit again. I have to stop him
and prevent any further damage. I have to stop him before he reads my
suspicions as threats and turns his snarling bite on me.

I feel a pressure nudge against my shoulder. I shake my head
and turn to the side. Nathan’s grinning at me. “Was that it? Did you want to
say something?”

“Huh?” somehow escapes my lips, like some halfwit. I’m lost
in thought.

“Al. You said Al. What about him?”

The rage returns my thinking’s coherency. “He’s screwing
more people over. This must’ve been a bait and switch. He took my drugs to a
low level dealer, but by the time it was going to change hands, he thought he’d
take the money and the drugs. That bastard needs to be stopped.”

Nathan steps into the room, careful in his steps not to
tamper with potential evidence. Or mostly to avoid piles of trash, and the
corpse. “You’re so convinced. Because you want that bouncer to be this big bad
guy, you can’t help seeing his name all over this.” He pauses on the other side
of the room and hangs his thumbs in the loops of his
 
blue uniform pants. “You don’t know anything for sure here.”

I make an emphatic gesture with my hands and raise my voice
for the first time, “Then why’d you call me?” It’s a burst I feel immediately
foolish for, I must be blushing.

His eyes are full of something condescending, like a
teacher, or a parent, eager to see me learn their lesson. It pisses me off.
“Show you what you’re entering, Aston.”

“You interrupted a very pleasant evening with Auna,” I say,
before I have time to edit. I shouldn’t have said her name. I shouldn’t utter
it in a place so foul.

“Ah,” is all he replies. Then, after a length of time, “You
should probably head out, I’ll have to call this in now.”

“Sure,” I say, turning back towards the door.

“Knob,” he warns.

“Thanks,” I say, using the tip of my shoe to wedge into the
open crack and ease the door open. I step out onto the wooden porch and turn my
head over my shoulder. Nathan’s already lifting his radio to his lips. He
pauses when he sees me. We have an exchange, a meeting of stares that display
the men we are. I see his dismay at the place he’s found himself, a circle I’ve
dropped into, where company includes murderers and the self-righteous men who
hunt them. We are neither, but we know, by action, we must appear to be. This
is our world.

On accident, my gaze falls into the eyes of the dead body
once more, and a severe cold shiver rips its way through my spine. I hope it’s
the last dead body see. Except, maybe, for Al’s.

I want so desperately to see Auna right now. I can’t bring
this to her.

I need a drink to drown the darkness, to flush the cold.