Drifter's Blues (Erotic Noir) (11 page)

Donna stepped up to him and slapped his hand away and took his cock in her own grasp, kneading it, sliding the skin back so that the head bulged even more hugely.

‘Get back on the bed,’ she whispered.

He reached for her breasts but she put a hand up to block him and pushed the other one into his chest, shoving at him. ‘Get back on the bed. I’m going to fuck you.’

Kyle flopped back on the bed, which creaked like a crypt door in an old horror movie. Through the wall, the couple seemed to have paused and be murmuring to one another.

Donna hooked her thumbs into the elastic of her panties and peeled them down, kicking them off. She watched Kyle staring at her pubis, then ran a hand down through the hair and crooked a finger inside herself, rubbing as she advanced.

‘You want this?’ she breathed.

‘Yeah.’ He nodded.

‘You want to put your cock in here?’

‘Yeah.’ His voice was a croak. ‘I want.’

Donna mounted him, her knees straddling his thighs. She felt the springy mattress sag erratically beneath them and wondered how many scores, hundreds, of other couples had writhed and fucked on it.

When her teasing of his prick with her labia had gotten too much to bear for her she parted the lips with her splayed fingers and with her other hand guided his cock into her, sinking down slowly, exquisitely, the breath hissing inwards through her clenched teeth. As she fed his shaft in she moved her hips experimentally, with infinitesimal movements this way and that, until she felt the shocking, almost painful thrill of his glans nudging her G-spot. She paused, savoring the first contact, and when Kyle tried to push deeper in she gripped the shaft more tightly, squeezing it slightly so that he stopped.

He seemed to sense that she liked that because he thrust with surprising delicacy, butting the head of his cock quickly and with tiny stabbing movements against the wall of her vagina where that sweet spot lay. Each dab against the spot was like a jolt from an electric prod. The orgasm came more quickly than she’d been expecting, than she’d ever experienced, in fact, the explosion of pleasure deep in her cunt so intense she collapsed forward onto her lover, limp as a ragdoll. Dimly she was aware that she was screaming, and that beyond the wall the screwing couple paused a second, then began muttering in what sounded to Donna in her near-delirious state like awestruck, admiring tones.

But she didn’t lie still for long, because Kyle’s penis was deep in her body and she wasn’t just using it to masturbate herself with, like a dildo; she was
fucking
him, and fucking involved more than one person. Donna pushed herself up with her arms and reared above Kyle, gazing down at his beautiful face, his hair tangled and splayed across it, his taut ripped torso, impossibly young and defined. She arched her back and pushed her hands into her hair, thrusting her breasts out in a movement calculated to inflame Kyle, and Donna Knew it had worked because he cried out and raised his head to fit his mouth around one of her nipples, his jaws stretched wide to take in as much of the surrounding breast as he could fit. 

He grasped the globes of her ass and began jerking his hips hard, thrusting his huge cock savagely up into her, and Donna responded in kind, grinding her pelvis down against his, aware that the force of the thrusts was making her tits bounce in a way that would drive any red-blooded man insane with desire. As her second climax began its slow rise up the curve, fantasies mired in the sordidness of her surroundings played through Donna’s mind. The fornicating couple on the other side of the wall, who were probably in reality a fat, ugly guy and his cheap whore, became in her imagination a dark, muscled stud and a beautiful teenaged brunette.

In Donna’s mind-movie, the gorgeous couple were with her and Kyle on a much bigger bed, though still in the same sleazy motel. The girl was crouching on Kyle’s face while he ate out her cunt, and at the same time Kyle’s cock was deep inside Donna, as it was now. The dark-haired stud had his penis in the young woman’s mouth. As if a kaleidoscope had been twisted, Donna saw another version of the scene. This time she was on her hands and knees, the brunette in front of her, her legs splayed, and Donna had her tongue in the girl’s pussy. The dark-haired guy was under Donna, his penis in her vagina. And Kyle knelt behind her, his cock in her ass. Something she’d never allowed any man to do, never even fantasized about. Until now.

Kyle spurted hard within her, bringing her back to reality. When his spasms had ebbed to nothingness, Donna lifted herself off his dick and clasped one of his thighs between hers and, her hair splayed across his face and her mouth and nose pressed against the silken warmth of his neck, began to rub her vulva against the hairy muscular hardness of his thigh, slowly at first and then in ever-increasing sweeps until the friction pushed her over the edge and she climaxed, moaning long and huskily.

She lay on Kyle, luxuriating in the tingling feel of his palms stroking her back, moving down to smooth her waist and her ass. Through the wall things had quietened down, and aside from the occasional low murmur there was silence.

Kyle raised one of his hands and stroked Donna’s hair. Suddenly she found herself delighted and touched by the gentle intimacy of the action, and she raised her head, found his mouth and kissed him, with only the smallest flicker of tongue. She eased off him and snuggled her back against his side. When he slipped an arm about her waist she took his hand and moved it up to cup her breast.

Against the hair covering her ear Kyle murmured: ‘I want to sleep with you.’

‘We’ve just - ’

‘I don’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I mean
sleep
with you. Wake up in the morning with you. Find us in the exact same position we’re in now.’

Donna caressed the back of his hand, pressing it lightly against her breast. ‘We will, honey. We just need to give it some time. But we will.’

In the semi-darkness, disturbed only by the neon glare through the curtained windows, their breathing gradually slowed and synchronized. Kyle’s thumb and forefinger worked at Donna’s nipple, the only sign she had that he wasn’t asleep. After she’d waited for what she thought was an acceptable length of time, she said, ‘Baby?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Where’s the painting?’

She felt Kyle tense, though his hand continued playing with her breast with the same delicacy as before. After a second he murmured, ‘You know it’s better if I don’t tell you, Donna.’

‘I know. It’s just...’ Her voice trailed off. In a few moments she felt his face up close, his lightly stubbled cheek brushing hers.

‘Just what, honey?’

‘All these secrets, You and I kept secrets from Blair, he kept secrets from me. Or tried to. And now here we are, keeping secrets from one another. It’s omething I didn’t want to start happening between us, that’s all.’

‘Donna.’ When she didn’t respond he took her shoulder and turned her gently so that she was looking up into his face. Through the tangle of his hair Kyle’s eyes were earnest, and kind.

‘Donna, honey, listen to me. I promise you that after the police have talked to you, maybe not the first time but the second or third, I
will
tell you where the painting’s hidden. Hell, I’ll show it to you. Then we’ll take it along to this contact you mentioned and we’ll sell it. And be set up for life.’ He searched her face urgently. ‘That’s still what you want, isn’t it? For the two of us to have a life together?’

Donna propped herself up on one elbow, laid her palm against the side of his face. ‘Of course, Kyle. More than anything else.’

‘Okay. Because I want it too, Donna. More than you could imagine.’ He lowered his face and placed a soft kiss on her lips. ‘It sounds real cornball, I know, but I’ve never felt this way about any woman before, babe. Not even close to it. You’re like a drug to me, but in a good way. I feel better every time I see you, even for a few minutes. It’s not just the sex, though that’s awesome. It’s the way you look when you turn your head and glance over your shoulder, the way you stand, that expression that touches your eyes when you smile... ah, Jesus.’ He collapsed back onto the mattress, his face turned toward her. ‘I’m in deep with you, Donna. And I don’t want to get out.’

She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him deeply. ‘Kyle, that means a lot. But no more secrets after this, okay? No lies, no subterfuge.’ A thought struck her suddenly. Was the painting here? Had Kyle brought it to the motel room and hidden it under the bed, or in the closet? Her eyes started to roam around the room but she stopped herself.

‘Promise.’

He laid a hand on her thigh, and a shiver of desire ran up toward her center. But she pushed his hand away gently.

‘It’d be easy to carry on like this all night. God knows I’d like to. But I’ve got to get back. Call the police. Make this work.’ Donna ran her hands through her hair, smoothed her palms across her face. ‘Oh God. I’ve just remembered. The dinner party I was at tonight. I told them I was heading home because I was tired. If the cops check with the hosts, there’ll be a discrepancy between the time I left and the time I call in the news of Blair’s death. A gap of more than ninety minutes.’

Kyle shrugged. ‘You stopped for coffee on the way. Got a flat tire. In any case, the cops aren’t going to believe you overpowered your husband in a fight and got him to shoot himself. He’s a big guy.
Was
a big guy. You’ll be in the clear, babe. As long as you can keep your cool, and keep your story straight.’

Donna gazed at his face. She was the one who’d come up with the plan. But now Kyle, this kid, was calmer and more collected than her. She found it reassuring.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

She sat up, felt the wetness between her legs and wiped herself with the sheet. She couldn’t take a shower; it would look suspicious if the police found her freshly washed and perfumed. Sensing Kyle’s eyes on her naked body, and forcing herself to ignore them, she began to pull on her clothes.

*

Kyle took a pull on the half-pint of bourbon and sat back against the propped-up pillows. It was three a.m. and the Saturday night crowds were out in force beyond the motel window.

Even without the noise, Kyle knew he wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

Delayed shock had set in after Donna had departed, and Kyle had been surprised at how late it came. He dropped to the bed, his throat constricted, his hands shaking uncontrollably. The motel room seemed to rotate around him and for a few seconds he was convinced he was going to pass out.

He’d found the whiskey in his rucksack, kept there for a rainy day. Or for a night like this, when he’d killed somebody. At first he had to force himself to take it easy. He knew gulping it down would just make him puke and he’d feel a hundred times worse.

I killed a man. I killed a man.

Kyle had been in fights before. He’d had his share of brawls in the school playground as a kid and a teenager, and there’d been bar fights aplenty. But none of them had gotten out of hand, none had resulted in serious injury to either him or his opponents.

He knew technically that he’d acted in self-defense. That he hadn’t even killed Blair Thurgood, really. Thurgood’s gun had gone off when he’d been trying to shoot Kyle, and it was just the guy’s bad luck that it had been pointing at his own head. But the cops wouldn’t see it that way, of course. Kyle had after all broken into Thurgood’s house. Thurgood had been defending his property. There was no way Kyle could ever convince the cops, or a jury, that he was the victim here.

But as the liquor seeped through his veins, relaxing him or at least suppressing the sudden panic he’d felt, Kyle realized there was no point in even thinking about all that. What mattered now was that he and Donna stuck to the plan. He had to lie low, keeping as far from the Thurgood place as possible despite his urge to go there, to be with the woman he loved. Donna in turn had to play her role without a hitch: the hysterical, grief-stricken wife who couldn’t let her guard down for a moment, not with the cops, not with the friends and family and other well-wishers who’d flock round her in the coming days and weeks.

He’d nearly told her where the painting was, wracked by guilt that he was keeping the secret from her. But he’d managed to hold out, and he was glad. It was one less lie she’d have to tell the cops, that she didn’t know where the picture was. There were plenty of other lies they could catch her out in, of course, but not that one.

The question was
when
. When would it be safe to tell her where he’d stashed the painting? The answer was: not so early that the police might still interrogate her about it, but not so late that she’d be starting to get pissed off with Kyle for holding out on her, starting to wonder if he planned to skip town with the picture and keep the money for himself.

Yeah, Kyle
, he thought.
Great answer. So exactly when will this mythical point come? How will you know it’s arrived?

Well, there was no use worrying about that now. He’d have to take each day as it came, follow the news reports as closely as he could to gauge the progress of the police investigation that would follow. And he’d have to find some way of keeping in contact with Donna. They couldn’t meet. They probably couldn’t even talk on the phone without putting themselves at risk. But Kyle couldn’t bear to be completely apart from her for weeks on end.