13Eva - Criminal, Part 5
//I've got to make a play to make my lover stay
So what would an angel say the devil wants to know//
Wow. Ya know- in a way this is exactly what I imagined his bedroom would look like. We walk in and the bed is in the middle of the room against the wall, in front of two really big windows. It's a huge king-sized bed with cast iron headboard. Dark blue comforter, tons of pillows… still- god- how the guy stand being so alone?
I look around. To my right, is his dresser with a whole wall collage of Hailie pictures- school ones I bet, Christmas shots… the proud papa. And to the left is two doors- bathroom and closet I'm sure.
"So…" I say. "What are we-"
"You're gonna come wit' me." He takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom and *yes* I still know he's naked. He's so… unashamed. Not that I would be either. But most guys aren't this comfortable walking around naked when there's no sex. Yet. Because I'm sure there will be.
He leads me into a huge, and I mean *huge*, bathroom. Double sink. Huge tub and shower.
"You uh… mind if I pee first? Before we…"
He chuckles. "Yeah, go ahead." He closes the door behind him and I do my thing. It's very modern in here- white tiles, white and black checkered linoleum on the floor, a few gray rugs. Black and white towels. Wonder who decorated because the place is gorgeous… not what I'd expect from a guy.
I wash my hands and then open the door. "Okay."
He comes back in and this is really- the suspense is *killing* me.
"So uh- what are we gonna do?"
"We?" He asks, before turning the shower on. "Nothing. Me? Something. C'mere." He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. He kisses me softly and I open my mouth and try to kiss him- slip my tongue inside his mouth and- he bites my tongue and pulls away. "I *said*- we, nothing. I don't want you to do *anything*. Just take what I give."
"I don't get it," I say, confused. Doesn't he- want me?
"I'ma pay you back for bein' so generous last night and earlier tonight- and for not callin' the press and sellin' 'em your tale."
He pulls my- rather, his- t-shirt off and pulls me into the shower with him. "The lights are on," I say. It bothers me. I like it dark.
"I know."
"Can we turn 'em off?" I ask as he takes a scrubbie and starts soaping it up. His penis is stirring a little bit- I can see it.
"Nope. It's my turn and I've got a beautiful woman here and I wanna see you. And… it's *my* *turn*," he insists before he rubs his chest with the scrubbie. And I'm just supposed to watch him? Yeah right.
I step toward him and place my hand on outer thigh before sliding it up his ass (he's got a really nice butt- doesn't look it from a distance, or from the video's where he's shown it, but it *really* is) and up his back. And then he takes my hand and picks it up off him and puts it to my side. "I said- don't do anything."
"But- what- what do you want me to do here?"
"Nothing," he answered with a smirk. "Not gonna fuck you in here, so don't get all excited."
"Ouch," I tease.
"Not mean- I'm just lettin' you know."
I watch as washes his under arms and forearms before stepping toward me and running the scrubbie over my shoulders and arms. He suds it up more and hangs it back up before moving his soapy hands over my breasts- starts on the sides and under and over before trailing them over my arms again. Shit. I gasp a bit. "Relax," he says, before kissing me softly. But I want more. I try prying his mouth open more but he won't let me. "I said- just receive. Don't initiate."
"Can't help it."
"Not gonna fuck you until you're relaxed- so you might as well just close your eyes, and enjoy my hands on you." He pulls me closer to him, so I'm pressed against his slick body with my own soapy front and his breath hits my neck as I feel him rub the soap on my back and down over my butt- gently. His hands feel *really* good. And I feel a shiver run up my spine as he blows on my neck a bit. Shit.
I slide my hands around his waist to hold his back and he doesn't seem to mind that too much. "Turn around," he says, while spinning me in his arms.
He moves in behind me, stands right against me and I can feel him slowly hardening against my ass as his hands cup my breasts again and he rubs my nipples and I cry out, arch my back so they fill his hands more. I hold the back of his thighs so he's pressed against me and I can't help but squirm against him. "Please," I whisper. "Por favor…"
"Just relax," he says and I cry his name when I feel his soapy hand slip between my legs. I try to push down into his hand, but his arm around my waist prevents me from doing that. "Stop. Now."
"What kind of guy *are* you?" I ask. It's pissing me off.
He laughs softly before moving us under the spray of the water. His hands slide over my body to aid in rinsing me off. He steps back and hands me the scrubbie. "Wash me off?" He turns his back to me and I move it on his back and then he turns around and… he did say- wash off, right? I take his penis in my hand and it jumps in my grip- gets harder than it was already. And I use the suds from the scrubbie to clean it of us. Clean his thighs and balls as well and listen to the small groans he doesn't want me to know he had.
I finish with the soap and stand behind *him* so I can rinse him off- stroke him as the soap rinses away and kiss his back as I pump him in my hand. Shit- I'm getting wet. I mean- duh- I *am* wet- but… the pulsing between my thighs is insistent.
"Thanks," he says, trying to even out his breath. And I really wanna fuck- but… something dawns on me- it must be really hard for him… I wonder if he's a bit lonely. Can't get close to anyone because you never know what they want- can't be with the one person he may have been able to be with because she can't be faithful to him for some reason- it must be *really* lonely for him. And even if he manages to get someone in bed- assuming he does throw caution to the potential lawsuit wind- it's not like he can stay with someone… I actually feel *sorry* for him.
And before I can think any more, he pushes me against the wall and is kissing me so passionately- like he *hasn't* had passion in a while. And his hands are all over my body and I start to pant and have those little sharp intakes of breath every now and then.
"Em…" I gasp, slipping a hand between us to pull his cock toward me.
And then, he pulls away. I growl. Fine. I slip my hand between my thighs and he grabs my wrist. "Stop," he says. "C'mon." He turns the water off and throws a towel on my shoulder while he proceeds to dry off. DAMMIT. He's hard. I'm wet. That's all that matters!!!!
"Ready?"
"More than *ever*- when you gonna fuck me already? I normally don't beg, but-"
He silences me with his lips and he holds my waist and he pulls me back into the bedroom.
I can't help but thrust against him as he pulls me back on the bed top of him. I'm straddling his thigh and I start rocking against him- but it's just not enough. But I can't do anything about it when he flips me over and pins my arms above my head. My chest is heaving and still damp.
"So beautiful, you know that?" He asks before kissing my collarbone and down to my nipples. He laves them each, suckles them until they're *aching* and the pulsing between my legs is persistent and bordering on painful. I spread my legs a bit more and he slides into position, between my thighs. I arch up toward him, lift my hips, trying to entice him to thrusting inside of me and putting us both out of our misery.
But he's not. He's sliding down my body and when he releases my wrists, my hands immediately fly to my sex but he catches them. "Stop it," I whimper. "*Please*."
Then, he gets up off the bed. What the- he takes two bandanas out of one of his dresser drawers and then walks back over. "Move up the bed a bit."
"What? Why?"
"That was the deal. This is what I want."
"What?" I ask, sliding up the bed. He takes one of my wrists and pulls it up to the headboard and- "NO!" I say as he ties my wrist to the bed with a D12 bandana. "Please-" FUCK. Without my hands… how I am supposed to- what am I supposed to-
"Shh," he says with a chuckle. "Gonna be worth it, I'll show you."
"I can't- please-"
"You *got* what you wanted." Dammit. He *has* a point. But- fuck… my whole body is thrumming and the pulsing between my thighs is now an amazon and throbbing- making my heart pound as it pumps the blood through my body. My entire *being* is tingling when he ties my *other* wrist and I try tugging on them but they're too tight. They even hurt just a bit. "There," he says, running two fingers from my inner ankle up my leg as he positions himself over me, kneeling between my legs and he kisses my belly button softly. Just the whisper of his lips against my skin makes me buck up.
"Come on," I say. "Please-" I yank on the bandanas again- damn workmanship. Fuck. I would *so* be coming by now. I would *so* have already pinched my clit or done SOMETHING. "Wanna come," I say, like he didn't notice.
"And you will. I promise." He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom. I watch as he puts it on and says, "much as I hate 'em- we *should* be safe."
But his words are basically lost on me because he pulls my knees apart and really spreads my legs before I feel his tongue sweep up the length of me and I close my fists and feel my nails cutting into my palms. I arch, tilt my hips, buck up- but it doesn't stop him from flicking his tongue over my clit or *slowly* pushing a sole digit inside me. "Fuckplease" I start pleading with him, Spanish, English- me da igual. (It doesn't matter.) Doesn't matter. FUCK.
He thrusts his tongue inside me and FUCK. I scream, wail- feel him fucking me this way- *no* one has *ever* done this before. And I mean *no* one. I mean- it's so… intimate. Personal- to feel his breath on my skin this way, feel his lips on me like this… fuck- I arch into his mouth, onto his tongue. Ohgod- "ohgodpleaseDiosporfavor" and I just- fall. Silently scream as I come, contract around his tongue and fill his mouth and sh-
I open my eyes and have to remember for a second what's going on- what *went* on- why I can't move my wrists yet. Fuck- why there's a man on top of me- Eminem is on top of me… thrusting inside me- using the slickness from my orgasm to ease his way inside- to coat the condom that separates us. FUCK.
I wrap my legs around his waist, he gave me that, and his thrusts are steady- not as quick as I'd like- not as rushed and… it's sort of… nice. I close my eyes again and really just concentrate on the feeling- I can feel him stretching me as he enters, feel my body accommodate his. I can feel my hips moving to meet his as our lower bodies connect. I can feel the kiss of his skin on my peeked nipples and his lips on my neck. And then he kisses me deeply- thrusting his tongue inside my mouth- like he'd been doing earlier- fucking my mouth even as he drives in deeply.
Fuck.
My body is tingling- trembling… alive.
I yank on my wrists and still can't move them. I'd like to feel his shoulders- grasp his thighs- scratch his back… instead of clutching the headboard as he plunges into my depths. I angle my hips up a bit- raise my butt so he can sink in further and he groans.
Fuck- how long has it been? Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? He's steadily building his own orgasm- not really worrying about mine I don't think. I'll get off- I know I will. He hasn't been terrible since. He moves his hips- changes the angle, the pattern of his movements and it feels amazing- like he's trying to feel everything my body can make him feel. I squeeze my muscles, clamp down around him and he growls and I feel his teeth on my shoulder- lightly. I clamp down on his again and again- holding the pressure longer- as long as I can so he really has to work to get inside me.
"SHIT," he gasps. "So fuckin' tight."
Would a whore be tight? I think not.
Shit. "Please, soon," I say. Simple.
"Uh huh," he grunts in response. "Yeah."
And I'm curious as to what he might do to throw us over the edge. He's got all the control I guess. Maybe it's a conquest thing- take the control away from me and make *me* come. I don't know- maybe he's just so damn horny- wants to remember this while he's home and lonely.
I squeeze my thighs around him tighter and that seems to get his attention- his thrusts get a little more sporadic and I have only to sit and receive what he gives... fuck. His breath is ragged and my chest is heaving and when his mouth returns to mine, he's an animal. Devouring my mouth- biting my lips enough to hurt and it's when I feel his nail scraping my clit, his name rips from my throat and pierces the air as I explode.
And he does as well- pumps into me a few more times as his orgasm hits him and I'm a bit disappointed I didn't get to feel him spill himself inside. There was something really nice about feeling him like that earlier. Something… almost primal.
He collapses on top of me, still in me and my entire body is limp. I am *really* tired now. It's been a long day.
"See?" He says, kissing my shoulder. "Told ya."
"Can you *please* untie me?" I ask, my wrists kinda hurt.
14
//What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love//
I'm still groggy when I languidly stretch my body and- ohyeah- that's a guy. Probably the first time I've ever woken *up* next to one. His hand slips around my waist and pulls me back against him. "Morning," he says groggily.
"Morning," I answer, covering his hand with mine. Shit. I'm a bit sensitive this morning. Shocker- after the obscene amount of fucking I did yesterday. Well- not that it was a *lot*- but it was… solid.
"Hungry?" He asks, kissing my shoulder softly.
"Yeah."
And a whore would *so* not do *this*. Not *wake* up with the guy. Not be offered food.
"But I gotta catch my bus. What time is it?"
"Dunno," he shrugs and then props himself up to look over me at the clock. "Ten thirty." And then he leans down and nuzzles my neck a bit. And I laugh. I can't help it. "What's so funny?"
"Just… a little star struck in my haze, I guess."
"Ya know- one time… I woke up in the middle of the night and I really hada piss, so I went inta the bathroom and everything was pitch black- and I accidentally hit the light switch and I was like- ohmygod- I'm 'Eminem'."
"Sounds… weird."
"It's a trip alright- so… up for another go?" He asks, placing his hand strategically on my abdomen so he could slide it right down and inside me.
"I really do have to get going. Not that I- I mean… would *love* to but-"
"You're *really* not like other girls. Like-" he gets up and stretches before he grabs a pair of boxers and sweats and pulls them on. "I've had… girls- a few times- Eminem-lovers… it's like all these girls throw themselves achu and- a few times… sure- I couldn't fuckin' get them *out* of my room."
"I thought I already *explained* that- I'm cool. Remember?"
"Yeah, yeah. I remember… so- can I at least feed you before you leave?"
"Sure," I say, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. "Don't suppose you got an extra toothbrush, do you?"
"You can use mine," he says. "I don't care."
"And I *realize* that with the exchange of bodily fluids and body *parts* yesterday- you'd think I *could* share your toothbrush- but-"
"You can't."
"No."
"Good- I didn't really want you too. But I think I got me an extra one…" He digs around in a drawer and pulls out a Barbie one. "How about an extra Hailie-toothbrush?"
"It'll do. Thanks."
This whole experience is very… surreal.
We brush our teeth and he gets me a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt while I pee. And we go downstairs and I pick up my clothes but I don't really wanna be in them right now. I kinda like *his* stuff.
He makes coffee and I toast a couple bagels and we sit and eat.
It's too strange! But… he's just a normal guy. And I think I knew that before- but it's still strange to think of and *see*.
And later, when I've changed into my own clothes and he's got his car started, it just seems very strange. "Um… Eva?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't know what you think but- I don't want you to think the past couple days haven't meant something to me. I think you're-"
"A really nice girl, blah blah blah- I'm not looking for a relationship- don't waste your breath," I finish for him.
"That's *not* what I was gonna say," he says. "I was *going* to say that- I don't know- it's been… interesting? Anyway- I wanchu to have these," he says, holding up the two bandanas.
"Oh- I couldn't-"
"NO. I *want* you to take them. *I'll* never look at them the same and I think you should have 'em. As… proof- that you were here with me last night- because we both *wanted* to be- not because I was paying you to be."
Because I'm *not* a *whore*.
"Thanks," I say and take them from him. That means a lot. "Oh- here," I hand him the shirt and boxers.
"Keep 'em. You looked better than I did in 'em. Ready to go?"
"Yeah- I think I am." I follow him out to the truck and climb inside.
Things are quiet. Silent. For a good ten minutes. Just quiet.
"Do you-" I stop. It's stupid.
"What?" He asks, glancing at me quickly.
"Stupid. Never mind."
"C'mon- ask me."
"I just- imagine that… your life- living in that house- being who you are… must get pretty… lonely."
"Yeah, it does," he sighs. And is quiet for the remainder of the ride.
He parks in front of the train station and I can't seem to open the door yet.
"I'd like to see you again," he says, breaking the silence.
"I'm not lookin' for-" I say, turning toward him.
"I know. Me neither- I'd just- I wanna see you again… if you want. To hang. Or… whatever- I mean… I don't wanna treat you like-"
"It's okay," I shake my head. "I know… what you meant. And- I'd like that." And I say it because… I really think I would. "Got a pen?"
"Huh?"
"I'll give you my number."
"Oh- yeah- glove compartment."
I write it down on a napkin and hand it to him. "Thanks… for everything. I-" don't know what else to say. Thanks for… what?
And I'm glad when he leans over and cups my face softly before kissing me gently. "Back acha."
I smile and kiss his nose before hopping out of the car. My train leaves in twenty minutes.
15
//What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love//
"¿Cómo estás, Mija?" She asks, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.
"Bien, Mami, estoy bien." Ya know- there are times when I can't stand the sound of her voice- that I know it's full of judgment. And honestly- I was *dreading* coming back here, in the beginning of the semester. I was dreading Christmas break like I'd be lead to my gory doom.
But ya know- I've been home for two días and it's not that bad. I mean… she's got the house decorated for Navidad because it's always been a big deal for her. And she hasn't cried and Papi hasn't yelled… and-
"¿Y la escuela? ¿Todo va bien? ¿No es tan difícil para ti? ¿Sacaste buenas notas?" ("And school? Everything went well? It's not too difficult? You got good grades?")
Always the mother- worried about how school went and if I did well. "Sí, está bien. Todo. Estoy cansada, Mami..." I whine a bit- I can only take just so much of my mother's concern for me. But- it's… sort of nice. But I *am* tired.
<Ring. Ring.>
She reaches over and answers the phone. "Diga," she says and I actually *see* the look in her eyes- her whole demeanor change. "Un chico para ti," she hands me the phone and I watch her bite back a few tears before she leaves. Probably went to church every day while I was away, hoping I'd stop giving myself away, praying for my salvation.
"¿Alo?" I ask. God- I've only been home two days- who could it be?
"¡Hola! I… uh- called your dorm room, but Jane said you'd already gone home. She gave me this number-"
"Oh- that's fine. What up, Em?" Okay- so in the two months since that first weekend- I've seen him a few times. I wouldn't say we're *dating* because we're not. But we… spend time. A little time- nights. *Nice* nights. Sort of the same as that first night. We do it *my* way and then *his*. And- we've spoken on the phone a few times. "Hailie gone already?"
"Yeah- Kim just left. I get her back Christmas morning. So-"
So he's got four days completely alone in his house, since Nate said his mother was insisting she get him home for Christmas. And so… Marshall's all alone.
"So how's it goin'? How'd classes go? I mean- got time to talk?"
"Yeah- sure," I say, leaning back on my bed with the phone when my mother opens the door.
"Mija-" she says, tears in her eyes.
"Hang on," I tell him. "¿Qué?"
"Mija, no quiero que regreses con ese chico en la casa mía- no sé lo que haces en la universidad, pero en mi casa no vas a tener el sexo con-" ("Honey, i don't want you bringing him back to the house. I don't know what you do at school, but in my house, you're not going to have sex with-")
"Mami- es un amigo mío- vive en Detroit- un *amigo*." ("He's a friend. He lives in Detroit. A *friend*.")
"Todos son 'amigos', Mija," she says and turns to leave quickly. Yeah, why *would* she believe me? She's right. ("They're all 'friends'.")
"Sorry-" I say, getting back to the phone.
"Whad she want?"
"To tell me that regardless of what I do at school- she won't have me bringing guys back to the house and I told her you were just a friend. You shoulda seen her face when she answered the phone. It's like… she's probably been doin' all sorts of Hail-Mary's for me- praying I'd come back and be pure and per-"
"*Just* a friend?" He asks, interrupting me. "*Just*?"
"Well- I don't know how to my hot-monkey-love partner in Spanish, so-" I hear him laugh in the back. But it's true- regardless of what we do in his bedroom… or bathroom… or kitchen… or studio or- enough of that- but regardless of what happens when we lose the clothes- I *do* think we're friends. Perhaps the only person that I've ever considered with that label. "'Sides, I really think I'd kill her if I told her about my thirty-year-old lover."
"When do you get back?"
"January fifteen," I say and start twirling the phone cord in my fingers.
"When do classes start?"
"The nineteenth I think, but I wanna be there a bit early- just to get the hell away from here- as.. .quasi-good as things have been the past couple days- I don't expect it to last long. Why?"
"I wanchu to go away wit' me."
"Huh?" I freeze.
"I wanna… take you away wit' me. There's this- ski resort thing in New York and the rooms are like little cabins- we could ski by day, or *try* to ski, and make-*have*… sex… in front of a fire by night… for the weekend."
A weekend? With him? Like… not a *night* but a weekend?
"I can't," I state.
"What? Why? *God* you're infuriating," he says angrily. "I wanna spend *time* with you."
"We *spend* time…" I explain hesitantly. I know- I'm crazy, when the gorgeous, rich, famous man asks you on a weekend getaway, you say 'hell yes' and fuck his brains out. But-
"Yeah- we spend *nights*. I wanna… spend a *day* wichu."
Exactly. We spend *nights*. I take the train late Friday afternoon and he picks me up and then he drops me back off at the train station at eleven am. Days implies… lunch… and conversation… and daylight and… *not* *sex*.
"I can't."
"Fuck- when are you gonna wake up?!" He says angrily- worse than angry- *hurt*. "Days doesn't mean nothin' different- 'cept instead of bein' up til one talkin'- we'll talk over lunch… c'mon. What do you gotta lose?"
"We don't make *love*," I say because it's not like I missed *that* before. His little slip of the tongue. "*I* don't."
"What do you think we've been doing every time I tie you to the bed?" I sit up and squeeze my thigh with my nails while resisting the urge to hang up. "Huh? You call it whatever *you* want- but *I've* been making *love* to you."
"*To* me, not *with* me," I spit back. "I don't *love* you, Marshall. And I'm not *going* to." I almost hang up but then add, "I'm not gonna see you anymore," I inform him.
"Oh that's how it is? Yeah- go ahead… run away then, hang up if you want-" God- a tear falls down my cheek because I don't wanna stop feeling him. "Just tell me something, *Eva*, has there *ever* been anyone who can give you what I do? Who you can be *you* with?"
I'm crying. I'm actually crying, but I don't say anything.
"I didn't think so," he says. "I don't love you either, Eva- but… I care about you- and yeah- I like fucking you- but… I don't feel quite so… freakish… when you're around- and that's… something."
"Okay" escapes from my lips before I can stop it.
"Okay?" He asks, extremely… shocked. "You'll… you'll go wit' me?"
I don't say anything. I can't.
Not yet.
He's right. There *is* no one else- at *all*- in my life who I can be me with, besides him. Who knows… or at least can under*stand* what I like… and who has never questioned why, or made me feel bad about it. Fuck- even my own *mother* tells me I'm going to Hell for being who I am.
There's no one that understands how much I crave sex- who I've *told* about it. Who I can just relax with and let *go* with… and I guess- maybe what he's sayin' is that he feels the same about me. That he craves the music- the rhyming… enough to quit school for it… he craves that like I crave sex and we're both lonely for it… *because* of it.
Maybe it's not love. But it's what I *have*… what *he* has to give.
And if I'm forced to admit it… when he has me tied to his bed and the minutes tick by so slowly and he's taking his time with me… building his climax… forcing me to *feel* who I am and not *forget* who I am… I… kinda *like* it.
And that's something.
"Yeah," I answer. "I'll go."
And it's not love. It can't be- for either of us. We don't got it in us.
But maybe… one time… when he's making love to me… maybe one time- I won't try so hard to stop it.
And that's something.
The End
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.