Posted by hisdinner on November 26, 2004 at 02:20:35:
"Why don't you ever ask me stuff?"
It had been four days since Martin had snatched Allie off the street. It was three days since she'd slept with him the first time. Yesterday she'd quit her job over the phone. Her boss had whined like a baby. An hour ago, she'd phoned in a Dear John letter to her boyfriend's voicemail. The men who had paid Martin to kill her were hunting for them somewhere south, if Martin's answering machine message had been convincing enough.
Allie was starting to get a little testy. What did he want with her? He seemed so incurious. She'd been his hostage for four whole days, well, ok, his willing hostage, but in all that time he hadn't even asked her how old she was. It was sort of unflattering. All they ever did was have incredible hot steamy sex, and listen to oldies on the radio, and drive.
Allie peered at Martin over the rim of her Starbucks cup. A bit of froth clung to her lip. Martin leaned in close and licked it.
Allie giggled and then pulled away and said, "You never ask me anything. No, seriously."
"What's there to know?" he said, lop-sided grin in place. "No. Seriously."
Allie glowered. She glanced around at the other patrons and lowered her voice. "You're an ass."
He clamped his hands around her wrists. He knew the effect that had on her. Already, there was a flush in her
cheeks. "You're twenty-two. An Aquarius. You're from Idaho and you moved to Vegas when you graduated high school. You are a secretary, a lousy typist but the boss likes your legs. You hooked up with that Saxon guy two years ago. He sucks in bed. You suck rather well, yourself." Martin grinned.
"You stalked me!" Allie kicked him under the table and nearly upset their drinks. He hadn't let go of her yet. The contest became more interesting as Martin used one finger of each hand to stroke the underside of her wrists, right on the pulse points. They stared into each other's eyes. Martin lifted Allie's wrist to his mouth, bit down and closed his lips around the warm flesh, and sucked.
"Stop," she purred.
"I just did the standard pre-snatch research stuff," Martin explained, letting loose of her wrists. That earned him a pout. The truth was, he'd fallen for Allie in the first two hours he'd watched her.
"Can I ask about you, then?" Allie reached for his hand, took it in both of hers, and licked each of his fingertips at random, stopping to suck in a finger now and then. She grinned up at him. She was learning, too, he noticed.
"Ask me in the car. It's time to get out of Dodge," he said as he rose and took back his hand. They left a tip just large enough to be unremarkable. About ten minutes later, they were sailing up the freeway, heading north.
"Where are you from?" Allie slipped on her sunglasses. It was easier to talk when her eyes didn't show. She loved talking in the car for the same reason. You could pretend you were looking at the traffic when the embarrassing stuff came up in conversation. Like her phobia of cats, or why she got fired from her last job. You could bring things up that were hard to say face to face. Like, fantasies and stuff. And oh yeah, how about the fact that her new boyfriend seemed to kidnap and murder girls for a living. At least, she thought he did.
Martin already wore his sunglasses. "Chicago. Is that what you've been dying to know?" He glanced over at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. He shrugged and kept the car headed north, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with whatever was playing on the radio.
"Were you supposed to kill me?"
"Yes. And cut you up." His tone was neutral, but his hands tightened on the wheel.
"But why me? Who paid you? And, and-- Cut me up?" Allie waved her arms around.
"You caught the eye of a client. His goons paid me, you saw it happen. And yes. Cut you into a nice selection of steaks and roasts, and sushi bits."
Allie sat back against her seat and thought about it. Fucking nuts. Martin seemed so normal except for the cutting part, but she guessed most people didn't kidnap either. But still, cannibals? He worked for cannibals? Sure, right.
"You work for cannibals?" She shuddered dramatically. "You cannot be serious. Nobody really-- they don't really-"
"Eat girls? Yes, Allie. They really do. And now we're getting a little distance between us and the Nigiri clan. Because I took their favorite food away from them." And a pile of money, too. Martin smiled. Talk about losing face. He'd bet that Mikey and his brother-in-law were already missing theirs. And a whole lot more.
Allie shook her head, unconvinced. "You make it sound like dine and dash, Martin. It's murder! And god, eating girls, ew! I can't believe it."
Martin slowed the car and eased it off the freeway. Trucks sped by and shook the car. He left the motor running. He ran his fingers down the side of her jawline and drew her into a kiss. Allie protested a little, then responded.
He kissed her again, his hands running up and down her arms, probing with his tongue, nibbling her lower lip, and then moving down her neck, biting lightly as he went. He began to open her blouse, and his bites got harder, and he cupped a breast and nibbled it, the underside especially. He bit and sucked in a mouthful of her creamy flesh. She gasped when she looked down and saw a round purple, mouth-sized bruise appear. Allie arched away from the car seat, moaning, marginally aware of the appreciative honks of the semis passing.
Bad Company was on the radio, wailing.
"The sky is burning
I believe my soul's on fire.
You are, I'm learning
The key to my desire."
Allie thought she'd never heard words that rang so true. He made her burn, just from one touch.
"I'd eat you right now if I didn't like you around so much," he said. "No, seriously."
"No way. Seriously." Allie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She took off his sunglasses and hers. She studied his face. Something in his tone.
"You would?"
"I would," he said, and he kissed her and sucked in her tongue. And then he did the most amazing thing. He held her tongue fast between his teeth, pulled her tongue deep inside his mouth. And the two of them could feel the pulse of her blood. Martin felt it dance against his teeth, did it want out? Allie felt that hard tug, felt the sharp pressure of his teeth against the beating of her heart--one pulse, one beat. She watched Martin's eyes flood with fire and need and something else. Hunger. Yes. The radio blared, and Allie's soul was on fire, yes. It really was.
Martin's eyes blazed and his teeth closed harder on her tongue. Allie gurgled. Her pounding pulse was all she heard. She felt his hands cradling her head, she felt his teeth, she felt her dread. Her eyes blinked frantically. Not yet! Not yet! Her body squirmed against his. She had been caressing him but now her hands pattered on his forearms, panicky and quick.
She whimpered and that broke the spell, and he released her. She didn't pull away from him. Her lips were parted and her breath snagged in her throat. He framed her face with his hands and kissed her forehead and let her go.
She shook her head slowly and sat sideways against the cushions of her seat, facing the window. She put on her sunglasses. Martin started to engage the car, but Allie turned to stop him, resting a hand on his forearm.
She looked off to the right at a grove of pinion pines and brush. He could kill her here and no one would ever find the body. She shuddered and then she spoke. "You mean it. Don't you."
Martin said, "I do."
They drove fifty miles in silence. The dusky light at sunset made the distant mountains look as if they floated above the desert. They saw some lights, a little town.
"Ready to stop?" Allie asked.
"Stop?" Martin looked at her. She might be right, he thought. He wondered if he could.
"Stop driving, get a room!" she said, softly smiling at him. "What did you think I meant?"
Martin shook his head, amazed. This girl. What was it about her that got him actually thinking about stopping.
"Tell you what," he said, pulling under the corrugated awning of a ten-unit motel on the outskirts f Reno.
"I'll stop for the night if you stop talking my head off, girl." She slapped his shoulder and realized it was the first time she had touched him since he-- since that last kiss. She gave him a shy peck on the cheek.
Later, they lay on the bed, exhausted but not sated, neither one of them. They'd had dinner in town, bought a bottle of wine at the grocery, and headed back to the motel. Once inside the door, their bodies took over and it was all that each of them could do to not ruin clothes as they tore at each other's shirts and pants and kicked off shoes, and fell down on the bed, and pounded into each other's bodies until their muscles quivered and their bodies were so slick with sweat, they slipped right off. Giggling, they lay side by side, staring at the ceiling. Allie's had draped her leg over Martin's, and now she cocked her knee up, letting a little cool air between them. They had the TV on some music video channel. Oldies, Fastball, singing "An exit to eternal summer laughing/ but where were they going
when no one could show them the way."
"Show me...stuff?" Allie whispered, burrowing her head into his chest.
"Stuff?" Martin shifted, putting his arm around her shoulders. Damn, he liked the feel of this.
"Take me the way you want to. Really." she said, a little breathless, a little too fast.
"No, seriously?" he said, with hardly any tease in his voice.
"Seriously." Allie said.
Martin sat up, shaken, agitated, ready. But no.
"You're not ready. Hell, I don't think I am, anymore," he said.
"Just a little," Allie whispered, daring to look him in the eyes for a moment. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. "Just a taste?"
"Oh god, Allie." Martin's voice was hoarse. He caressed her, she cooed pleasure, but she watched his face intently. When she saw that hunger flash across his features, she gripped his hands and squeezed them, crushing her breasts beneath their hands. She nodded at him. He rose from their bed, and turned to his bag.
She knelt on the bed, expectant, terrified.
When he turned he held a soft cloth bundle in his hands. His knives. She watched as he untied the ribbons and unrolled the cloth. Knives, at least a dozen, all widths and lengths and types nestled in separate cloth pockets. Allie saw Martin's hands shake. He faced away from her. She spoke. "I want it. Martin. Taste me?"
His back straightened and he turned, holding a small steel blade. Was it a scalpel? She wasn't sure. Martin stood close to the bed and drew her to him. She shuffled forward on her knees, looking up at him. Her nipples were hard, and when she shivered, her breasts jiggled. He looked at them, so lovely. He looked into her eyes, questioning. She bit her lip and nodded.
And Martin took his knife and held her breast and made a slit, only a small one, just beneath the nipple. Allie watched as the blade dimpled then pierced her skin. It was so sharp, she didn't feel much pain at all. She arched into his touch, she whispered, "More."
Martin inclined his head and drank from her. But first, their bodies joined, and as he drank, he filled her, too.
Allie ran her fingers through his hair and pressed his head to the wound. Martin longed to feast.
And soon, he would.