chapter 4

Felix

No matter how hard I try, I can't get her out of my mind.

Now, I rush through the day, finish my business earlier, and wander into The White Rabbit almost daily.

The first few times I returned, she ignored me. Not in the I - didn't - notice- you manner, but more of I know you're here, but I'm playing hard to get.

I let her carry on this charade for however long she wanted, but now, I'm losing my patience.

Today, I'm just about done. I watch as a group of low-rung soldiers try to flirt with her. I smile when I notice she ignores them too.

But then I see it. A signal. She twirls her hair around her fingers and looks at me out the corner of her eye.

It's like a floodgate opened. I can't believe I don't even know this girl's name, and now here I am, walking up to her with a smile, ready to make my move.

"Why'd you ignore me?" I ask her out of curiosity.

She arches her perfectly shaped eyebrow at me, seeming amused.

"Maybe I wasn't interested," she says, leaning back onto the counter and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her breasts push up against the fabric of her white shirt, making me want to reach out and touch them.

"Is that so?" I reply, stepping even closer to her. I can see the vein pulsing in her neck, and I know she's affected by my proximity.

"Maybe," she repeats, her eyes flickering down to my lips before meeting my gaze again

I reach out a hand and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingertips brush against her cheek

"You're lying," I say, leaning in and whispering, "Have dinner with me. Tonight.

She looked at the clock behind her. "I would," she says, "but I don't even know your name.

I smile at her, "I don't know yours either.

"Emily Jackson," she says

"Felix Carlisi," I offer. "I thought you were Italian.

"Why?" she asks, looking at me quizzically

"I heard you speaking Italian that night with the intruder, and you are a true beauty

The kind of rare flower only Italy has to offer.

"Well," she said, now looking nervous. Perhaps she wasn't used to compliments; maybe it was someone else. "My mother is Italian. My father was born and bred in the USA."

I nod. "Pick you up at 9?

"Sounds good. The bar's shutting early tonight. The big boss needs the place to himself.

I don't ask any questions. Around here, just like the rest of my life, I follow the don't ask, don't tell policy

When I return at 9, she's waiting for me, all dolled up. I try to keep my eyes on hers because I know I'd get lost in the curves if I don't

She's wearing a shimmery black top with thin straps, loose around her figure but low-cut, tucked into a short, very short, tight black leather skirt

"You really ought to cover up," I say

"I'm with you, aren't I?" she dares me, her eyes glistening with rebellion. "Would anyone harm me if I'm with you?

"No one would dare," I retort

Something tells me she's done her research on who I am. After all, I did tell her my name earlier today

As we get in my car, she instructs me to drive her somewhere quiet. "I'm tired of bars and restaurants. For me, that's just a reminder of work.

"Do you want to go to my place?" I ask cautiously. I don't want her to think I'm too eager

"Yes, please," she mutters

We reach my house. I wait for her to react as the magnificent mansion comes into view

But she sits content through it all. From the moment we entered through the wrought iron gates, drove down the winding driveway, and crossed the Olympic size pool with the fountains - she could have cared less

Every single woman I brought home in the past gave a fuck. Some pretended to hide it, and some asked me all about it. She looks like this is her local seven-eleven

And I feel slightly worried. Should I be concerned

But then I observe her face, and she looks lost in thought, her eyes glazed over as she stares out of the window

"We're here," I say, putting the car into its slot. I open the door for her, and she steps out slowly.

"Is something on your mind?" I ask.

Her eyes dart at me like a deer caught in the headlights. "No. Just some news from home."

"Good or bad?" I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders non-committedly. "I don't want to talk about it," she says.

"Where are you from?" I ask her.

"Chicago," she lies. After all, her accent tells otherwise. But I don't probe. Everyone's entitled to a secret or two in our world.

"How old are you?" I inquire as we head inside.

"Nineteen."

"Ah... young."

"You?" she looks at me.

"Guess?"

"30?"

"Close. 35."

"You look younger," she compliments me.

"You look older," I say.

She smiles.

"Tonight," I say, leading her into the kitchen. "I'm going to cook for you."

I can tell that she's surprised. "You cook?"

I chuckle. "Yes, I cook. Is that so hard to believe?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's just...unexpected, I guess."

I take some ingredients from the fridge and start preparing the meal while she sits at the kitchen counter and watches me.

The sound of the knife against the cutting board fills the otherwise silent room.

"Can I help with anything?" she asks.

I turn to her and feel a spark of desire like I first met her. She's sitting there, legs crossed, in a very short skirt.

I imagine what she looks like without it.

I clear my throat. "No, that's okay. I got it. You can...relax if you want."

But she doesn't seem to want to relax. She gets up from her seat, walks over to me, and stands so close that I can feel the heat emanating from her body.

I look down at her and see the hunger in her eyes. Then it happens.

We kiss - starting off slowly, then growing more fervent. Our hands drift and caress each other's bodies.

I pick her up and run to the bedroom closest to the kitchen.

The minute I close the door behind her, her arms wrap around my neck.

I deepen the kiss, tangling my hands in her hair and letting her tongue explore my mouth.

The taste of her is addictive, and I can't get enough.

Before I know it, I lift her onto the dresser and position myself between her thighs.

Our kisses become more urgent, and I can feel the heat between us building.

I slide my hand down her body, feeling the curve of her waist before reaching the hem of her skirt.

She breaks away from the kiss, looking up at me with a hungry expression. "Do it," she whispers, and I don't need to be told twice.

I slide my hand under her skirt, feeling the wetness of her panties. She moans when I touch her. I slide my fingers into the waist of her panties, feeling her heat against my skin.

"Oh God," she breathes.

I bring my hand to touch that hot spot. She squirms under my graze, and then I slide my fingers inside her.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper, and she rewards me with a smile, eyes still closed.

"Touch me," she whispers, gripping my forearms, urging me to touch her. "Harder."

I push my fingers deep inside her, testing her limits.

Then I rub her clit with my thumb, and she cries out. "Oh! Ahh! F-Felix!"

I can't take it anymore. I undo my pants, put on a condom, and slide inside her.

A small cry of pleasure escapes her lips, and she wraps her legs around my hips. I carry her to the bed, my dick still in her.

I rock my hips into her, setting a steady rhythm. She's panting in my arms, eyes still closed, but her head is tossed back.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Felix," she whispers, not even looking at me. She's searching for something - something I can give her.

Fuck, I love the way it feels when she calls my name like that. As if I'm almost otherworldly to her. Somehow beyond reach.

She pulls me right to her. I quicken the pace, desperate to reach the spot that makes her cry out my name.

But she's not ready for it. I can tell. I can feel her changing her angle slightly to direct the pace.

I don't stop her. She's taken control of the pace - of my body. She's driven me to the room, to the bed, and now she's driving me to the edge.

I can feel it and see it in the way her eyes are sparkling, and her cheeks are flushed. I can feel her tightening around me, but I look at her, taking her in.

She's so gorgeous. I could stop right now and just look at her, and it would be enough. But I don't get to.

"Fuck me," she whispers, gripping my forearms, urging me to pound her, to tear her apart.

I love being intertwined with her. This feels so natural.

As I continue pounding her harder and harder, her moans become more illicit.

"Oh baby," I say, lingering my hands through her hair.

"Go faster," she moans. "Go harder. Go as hard you can ... now, Felix, now..."

I can feel her legs tremble beneath me and the walls of her pussy clench against my dick.

"I'm cumming..." she says. "I'm cumming..."

"Me too," I moan, and we both find high together.

We both collapse onto the bed, still intertwined. I cradle her in my arms and kiss her forehead.

"That was fun," she whispers, smiling up at me.

And with that, we drift off into dreamland, exhausted from all of our exploring.