Hello, lovelies! Here's chapter 13 for you all. I hope the length makes up for the wait. Sorry.
Hope you enjoy it and please remember to vote, comment, and fan if you did. (: Thank you.
Laters, baby! :D <3
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~Cisco~
We had just left the hospital, now sitting in a cab with each of us by a window seat. The one in between was empty.
Josephine was pronounced dead at twelve fifty seven in the afternoon, exactly fifteen minutes ago. And Mila was in a state of shock. She stared blindly outside the cab's windows, no sounds escaping her. Her eyes were just as gone, withdrawn from the world and pretending to watch the city as it sped in front of her. The only sign of emotion she gave was in the way she held her hands together, so tightly that her knuckles were white from the strain. And I wanted to reach out for her, comfort her with words and the touch of another human being. But how could I do that when I feared she would crumble if I disturbed the thin wall around her? Hell, I had much preferred she would crumble in my arms, kicking and sobbing, than stay that distant and removed. I needed to know she was there. Alive. Yet I knew I had to give her space and let her cope in her own way at least for now because she was far gone in a state of shock that I didn't dare try to break her from. It was impossible. I would help her break it herself.
I tore my eyes away from her and looked forward, still keeping her in my peripheral vision, then remembered the letter Josephine had given me nearly a month ago. Why it came into my mind at this moment, I wasn't sure, but it had to be nonetheless because of her death. And I remembered that I hadn't removed the letter from the very leather jacket I wore at the moment. I quietly retrieved it, knowing Mila wouldn't see it or care if she did. Not now, that was.
I read the letter for the second time, noting I'd have to put it in a safer place when I got home.
Dear Francisco,
The money is being securely kept in a safe deposit. You can retrieve it at your better judgement: when you know my daughter is safe. I know you'll do everything it takes to protect her until there's nothing or no one left to harm her. You must be wondering why I trust you so well and most probably deem me a fool for doing so but the answer to that question is simple; I trust you because Mila trusts you. As we've already established, my daughter is not exactly the trusting type so when she trusts so wholly, so unconditionally, and so quickly then I know there's no danger. She's only ever trusted you, Cisco, as I described. Therefore, the information to access the safe deposit is kept secured in my personal safe at home. It's in my bedroom, in a compartment at the end of my closet. The code is in one of my books; Northanger Abbey. In that safe are a number of other important papers and documents that I need for you to retrieve and keep safely hidden at your better judgement. Apart from documents there is a necklace I'd like for you to give to Mila.
There, that is all regarding the safe but not all I have to say.
For about the seventieth time, please, Francisco, take care of my daughter. Don't let her get hurt. I want her to live a long and happy life where she can look back on me and think of me with a smile on her face, not a frown as she remembered everything my money put her through. Give me some peace when I go wherever it is that dead souls go by letting me know my daughter is safe with you.
And the last thing before you fold this letter and put it away is something I need you to keep an open mind for, Francisco. I wouldn't be surprised if you found yourself thinking, "How in hell would this woman even know of such things?" I don't. Yet a mother can always dream. And she will always know her child better than she knows herself. So here I go, imposing and nosy, but always in Mila's better interest... Be gentle with her if she ever grows to love you, whether you share the feeling in return or not because I cannot bare to see her heart broken when I am supposed to be sipping margaritas in heaven with greek gods fanning me and feeding me grapes. I know my baby girl. When she loves, she loves with her all. When she cares, she does everything in her power to make the person she cares for happy. She feels everything with an intensity I cannot begin to describe. She's her father's daughter. I'm not jumping in and saying the future will play out just as I suggested because I'm not clairvoyant but if it does... You'll know what to do, Francisco. I know that. And I also know you care for her, too.
Now, I'm going to put this pen down because my hands are hurting very badly and I'd like some rest. I'm most probably dead by now. Or not. Depending on when you decided to read this letter. Anyway, good luck and I wish you all the best life has to offer. Don't let opportunities pass you by and don't be afraid to open yourself up to new possibilities. They might be in your best interest.
With love and respect
Goodbye,
Josephine.
I let out a breath and folded the letter, tucking it again in my jacket pocket and stealing a glance at Mila who still did everything in her power to avoid my gaze. Then I let myself think about what Josephine had written for me. I didn't even know what to think of it but what I did know was that, yes, having Mila's love would be... But I would end up hurting her. I always hurt the women who thought they loved me or did, I don't know. But those women never mattered to me. That was why when they asked for more, I'd leave, because I couldn't let them gather anymore false illusions. At least I hadn't been a complete prick. I had put on my clothes and turned around for the door, leaving them all crying and draped in sheets because I didn't want them to nurse the silly notion that I would ever love them. It had just been sex. I had made that clear from the beginning and they were all willing to engage in a no-strings affair until they became too attached and started to think they loved me, asking for love in return. How could I give love that wasn't there? I couldn't.
That had been my sex life up until little over a month ago when I took this job. No, because I was on the job didn't mean I couldn't have sex. It was just this particular time that I didn't want it. Scratch that, I wanted sex, I had quite an appetite for sex, but I didn't want it with just any willing and attractive women that caught my eye because it seemed none did nowadays. And I knew all too well why though it puzzled me to no ends. I was fixated on one woman like I never had been before. Yes, I had chased after a great deal of women, playing the sensual game of cat and mouse and enjoying the chase, but that had all been a show for entertainment. In the end, I knew I would have the woman and they knew it too. It was all pretend. But this... This was different. Too different. Mila was different.
I couldn't help but compare her to every past woman I'd had. They had all been skilled sexual seductresses with moves so predictable sometimes I became frustrated from the boredom and evident outcome. Yet I had always known why I steered to those specific women even if I knew they'd be the same; I hoped that their personalities, seeming to be as promiscuous as mine, would shield them from feeling, from ever wanting more, but most of the times, the hope was moot and once they started to feel, I left without looking back. But Mila was the exact polar opposite. I never knew what to expect of her. Her feelings and reactions were too intricate and intense to ever predict. I'd be goddamned if it wasn't refreshing. She was so pure, so honest, that I knew she had no idea on how to play games, how to be dishonest to someone she cared for. If she ever lied it was in someone else's best interest, not hers. She was beautiful but didn't seem to know or care. She was modest and innocent. And she turned me on so bad that thinking of her effect had my body tighten in places it never should when sitting in the back of a cab.
So what if Mila did start to matter to me? Hell, she already did. That was an undeniable fact. I'd be a fool if I entertained the notion that she meant nothing to me and that I'd walk away as simply as I had walked in. But that didn't mean anything. It simply meant that I cared for her well being, that she mattered to me, and that was normal when two human beings were around each other for a series of time. Yet I still had to wonder about the other alternative, what had seemed so impossible just weeks ago. What if I started to feel more for her? To want what I never considered wanting before: More. The very way my heart and just about every other organ in my body ached at the thought of what she was going through at the very second, having lost her only remaining parent, was enough to say I cared for her more than I ever intended to. If I remembered correctly, the first time I met her had resulted in a game: To tame a beautiful woman with a stubborn and easy temper. But now I knew she was more than that. Mila was by far one of the most stubborn women I knew when it came to something she believed in but she could rationalize. I knew once I had gotten to know her that her temper was anything but easy. She was sweet, considerate, and gentle with a temper that took a while to be set off. She never grew angry at irrational things and it was something I admired in her. My temper, on the other hand, was her polar opposite; quick, easily irritated, and simply put, bad. I wasn't proud of it but there was nothing I could do either. At least I had some morals to go by. Like the one that told me I wouldn't go near her if I knew I'd end up hurting her. By God, I'd try my best to contain my hunger for her if I knew I wouldn't be able to give her more and that that was what she wanted. At least I hoped I could control myself, for I couldn't sustain the idea of playing her, of toying with her emotions and having her for my own convenience and satisfaction while I completely disregarded how it would affect her. Like I had done with other women. God, I had been a dick but in my defense, they had all accepted the fact that I wanted sex and nothing more from them. They had even seemed pleased... until it wasn't enough.
So now I sat in frustration with my mind completely fucked up because of that letter. I shook my head and pushed the thoughts aside, ready to call two of the bodyguards I had appointed. The other two were off shift today. They had been working for me for three weeks already.
Holden picked up the phone on the second ring. "Yes, boss?" He said.
"Holden, we'll be at The Plaza in approximately five minutes. I need for you to come down the building and guard from afar, keeping a safe distance and avoiding suspicion. There might be onlookers. Then walk into the building a minute after us and go for the stairs. Take an elevator on the third floor and ride to the fifth where we'll be waiting. Craig is to stay behind and guard the floor. Clear?" My voice asked a question but any denial was out of the realm of possibilities and Holden was aware of that. He knew my instructions would be clear and dependable. He'd walk into the building a short while after us to decrease suspicion, take the stairs to decrease it even more, then stop at the fifth floor to guard Mila with double protection until we reached her apartment floor safely. I didn't do this as a means of paranoia and this certainly wasn't an every day stunt but today was an exception. As the news of Josephine's death spread so would the presences of strangers; strangers willing to go to extremes to get to Mila because they wanted 'real' information; paparazzi wanting pictures and rich stories submersed in credible detail. Or not, they wouldn't care if it was credible as long as it was there and they had a story. Mila would be the one suffering if I didn't protect her from the attention I knew she despised. It would be a constant reminder that her mom was dead and I would do everything in my power to protect her from that.
"Clear." Holden verified and I hung up, satisfied. I payed the cab once he pulled up into the building. It was a comfort being the one to pay.
"Stay inside." I said to Mila, knowing she would hear me. I got out and opened her door, helping her out and wrapping her arm around my waist, shielding her with my body. I caught one glimpse of her face and wished I hadn't. She seemed so far gone within herself that I felt the need to shake her, scream at her to come out of her trance. But I knew I couldn't. I skimmed the area for Holden and found him, smoking a cigarette by the fountain and looking nonchalant as he gazed ahead to where the park rested. He didn't look at the park but at Mila and myself as we exited the cab. Nobody suspected him of anything, strolling completely past him as all New Yorkers would. Not even the observant tourists spared him a second glance. Holden was a fine bodyguard. The other appointed guard, Craig, was greatly skilled as well, for I wouldn't appoint someone who's abilities I questioned. This was a life in my hands: Mila's. Even though both guards exhibited a keen intellect I knew who's skills were better, more precise and sharp, but any other person would not have noticed the differences. All in all, it was Holden whom I trusted better, who's efficiency on the job was more dependable. Hence why I called him down.
Now it was time to get moving and to make it to the apartment as efficiently as we could.
***
We entered the apartment with no troubles and the first thing Mila did was walk to the window in the living room and take a seat on the chair beside it. She kept gazing out into the sky, silent as she hugged her knees to her chest. She seemed so fragile and broken that I couldn't believe that we had been strolling down Central Park just an hour or two ago where she had worn a beautiful smile as she snapped pictures of the autumn leaves and trees. My gut twisted agonizingly and I felt the overwhelming urge to drive my fist into a wall. Instead I went to the kitchen and searched through her cabinets until I found a chicken Cup Noodles. I poured the amount of water indicated in the instructions and popped it into the microwave for the instructed three minutes. I'd make one for myself after she ate. Once the three minutes were up I took the soup contents and poured them into a bowl for her. Mila would eat this even if I had to spoon feed her the entire thing. After a minute of letting the soup warm into a more tolerable temperature I took it into my hands and went to her.
"You should eat, Mila. I have some soup for you." I said, my voice mellow as I stood over her. She shook her head and if I weren't this observant then I was sure I wouldn't have noticed. She continued looking ahead. "Mila, honey, please." I said softly. She didn't reach out for the bowl. "I'll feed you myself if you don't and I won't leave until at least half of this bowl is gone and in your stomach." Mila turned her eyes toward me for the first time in what felt like hours and the cool baby blue shock of those eyes astonished me for a second. They truly were beautiful. Even with the irritation they clearly wore. Well, I didn't give a damn. She was eating.
I took the chair beside her with my spare hand and placed it in front of her then took a seat. She looked at me with bored eyes that shifted the second she saw me raise the spoon and move it to her pretty mouth. She stared at the spoon for a second, my eyebrow rising at the sight, and it seemed she was either too weak to protest or too gone to care. She opened her mouth and let me feed her. To stay I was surprised at her lack of struggle was an understatement but I was pleased nonetheless, remaining silent just in case she decided to rebel.
Exactly half the bowl later, Mila turned her gaze back to the window, her eyes a glossy abyss, and I knew she wasn't eating anymore. I almost scoffed in disbelief, amused by the scene. She must have really been paying attention when I said I wouldn't leave until she stomached half of the bowl. Whatever. She ate enough. Now I wanted to hear her voice.
"Talk to me, honey. Please." I said, my voice gentle. I kept looking at her but she didn't budge. Frustrated, I placed the bowl on the floor beside me and arose from the chair, effortlessly taking her into my arms. I started walking away from the window, her body in my hands.
"W-What are you doing?" She demanded, her voice rusty and forced, as if it had taken a great effort to have each word escape her throat. Hell, she hadn't spoken for hours. It was only natural.
I kept walking unperturbed and looked down into her wide, shocked eyes. "You haven't used the bathroom the whole day and you had a bowl of soup." I said, let her make of it what she wanted.
I entered the bathroom and slid her down to her feet, walking out when I was sure she was stable. I didn't leave but decided to wait outside the door in the hall until she finished in case she needed my help. When I turned to prop myself against the wall as I waited, I noticed that Mila didn't realize she had left the door ajar and that I was standing right outside of it. She started undoing the button of her pants and I saw her struggle. Her cold and numb hands were inadequate to the task.
I moved silently and opened the door, startling her. Bending down in front of her, I easily undid the button then pulled down the zipper, my eyes coming into contact with the red cotton of her underwear. I stood upright, watching her crimson face and those doe-like baby blues as they fought the shock of what she had just seen me do.
And I was gone at the second, truly closing the door for her and propping myself against the wall. I remembered those red panties contrasting brightly against her ivory white skin and my loins throbbed heavily in my pants. I bit my lip in frustration, hoping to stifle the yearning.
My ears perked and my head snapped forward when I hear a loud tumbling sound coming from the door ahead of me. Mila.
I flung the door open and my eyes met Mila's body, lying on the floor where she had fallen over the rack of toiletries kept on the ground. Her eyes were shut from the pain and a wince was evident in her distraught features. Then her eyes opened and she was on the verge of tears. Shit. I went to her and quickly took her into my arms, hoping that something I did would ease the hurt she was feeling. I kissed her head and searched her legs, bare and glistening with the lack of clothing. Those red underwear were perfectly displayed for me and I felt a thin sheet of moisture ripen across my forehead. Goddammit, her legs. I tore my eyes away from them and looked at her arms, her head. She was alright, no injuries that I could see. As I expected, the worst she'd experience would be slight bruising and that would take time to form. I'd give her cream for those when and if they appeared.
I felt her head move against me and I gave her space. She looked up at me, her expression stabbing my chest. "I-I want to take a shower," she whispered, her voice almost angered at herself, "but I can't seem to do even that." Her voice broke at the last word, and tears glossed her eyes but they refused to fall. I could see the pain in them, the utter frustration in feeling so weak and useless, and I had to help her. I had to help her before those eyes became the image that kept me from sleeping at night.
"I know, honey. You need to let me help you." I whispered soothingly into her ear and lifted her from the ground. Standing in front of her, my hands supported her at each hip, and she looked into my eyes with her heart on her sleeve. My chest was punctured once again. I let my hand glide upward to both sides of her shirt and slid them between the fabric, touching the cool and smooth skin of her hips. I tugged at the shirt and looked into her eyes, asking for permission. Mila stayed silent but the way she continued staring at me with that raw expression in her features told me she was not objecting.
I moved toward the faucet and turned it on to warm then returned to my place in front of her. My pulse was throbbing, my heartbeat picking up, and my loins stirred painfully in my pants, knowing all too well what I would see. I quickly moved to her shirt and silently slid it upward, tugging it over her head. And I continued to undress her, removing her bra and underwear, leaving her naked and flushed in front of me. I couldn't help but roam her body with my eyes, marveling at her flawless skin, the satiny mounds of flesh that were her breasts and the pink erected skin of her nipples as they gleamed under the dark chocolate hair that she had self-consciously placed to cascade down her shoulders. Now she looked into my eyes, covering her flesh with her arms to protect herself from the chill. But she only covered her breasts, much to my frustration, and I wanted to take the chill away by pressing her plush body against mine and giving her my body heat.
My self control wouldn't take it, hell, I wasn't sure I could take this. All the while my common sense had screamed at me, telling me I would be putting myself through hell if I took off any bit of her clothing but I had been too stubborn in my refusal to listen to it. I would've done anything to see her body like this, so beautiful in its bareness. Even if it was almost a death sentence.
I looked at Mila's face and my heart twisted when I saw the silent tear drops begin to trail down her cheeks. She looked at me, her eyes asking me to help in which ever way I could, and I put my hands on both sides of her tender, glowing cheeks. I knew that the shock was starting to wear off from the buzzed and panicked look she gave me and I wished I could sustain the painful realization that would soon and gradually seep in.
"Give me a moment." I whispered and she nodded lethargically. I moved to the faucet and let my hand touch the water. It was as warm as I had wanted it so I clicked the shower mode. Quickly, I removed my shirt and pants, leaving only my boxers on. There was no way I would alarm her by removing all of my clothing but if I was to enter the shower with her then I'd have to take off as much as I could.
I turned around to find myself regretting it. Equally silent sobs left Mila's body and racked her bones, the only remnants of sound being the quiet whimpers she couldn't keep from escaping. She hugged herself in surprise, trying to subdue the tremors but failing helplessly. The wave of the shock as it left her was starting to hit her like feral waves, just as painful as a punch in the gut. I needed to distract her, fast.
"Come on, baby." I said quietly, closing my arm around her wrist and bringing her toward me. Gently I lifted her into the tub and went in after her.
Then Mila threw her head back and slipped on the wet surface of the tiled floor. I caught her, my hands on both her hips, and how my heart didn't combust from the fear of her hitting the ground, I did not know. She let the water soak her hair, her face, her chest, and then she started to sob. Mila's cries hit her body with so much force that I had to hold her from the fear that she'd slip again. I wouldn't let go of her. She kept crying, finally crying, and I gently rubbed my fingers against the skin that covered her hips as I tried to soothe her. All I had wanted in that cab was the very moment where she would open herself to reality and let herself feel while I held her in my arms, letting her cry and sob with the comfort of knowing that when she was done, she'd be safe and with me, not alone.
I became aware of my erection, throbbing incessantly against the thin cotton of my boxers, and I gritted my teeth from the driving need to find release inside the woman I was holding. The way her breasts stood, perfectly arched and rounded as she threw her head back, was enough to make a strong surge of heat hit every cell in my body. Her tight pink nipples were calling for my mouth to take them, for my hands to feel them. I needed her so badly it hurt, literally. I didn't know how I didn't combust right then.
But with one look at Mila's face I knew why I had to keep myself together and use more self-control than I ever had to in my life. She was in pain, crying and sobbing for her loss with cries that were slowly breaking me, and I'd be goddamned if I didn't take her pain away. I clenched my jaw and breathed in, putting my own needs aside because I knew that Mila's were the most important. She needed me.
I didn't disturb her when I grabbed the bar of soap, letting her grieve without disturbance. I moved closer to her, careful not to get so close that my erection would prod at her bare skin. I cut back the groan that formed in my throat and thought with much frustration, so what if she felt my dick against her? No, not now. She was too vulnerable. I shook my head to remove my thoughts and tightly gripped the bar of soap in my hands so that it wouldn't slip away. Then I started to wash her; her slender arms, her graceful neck, her slanted shoulders, her delicate collarbone, her upper chest. And my hand slowly glided downward to her breasts, my loins throbbing harder with every inch. It was a wonder I didn't come, the thoughts I had forced into my head managing to help me. I had never been so far gone with a woman, never so immersed in her that the need was so strong my body lost control. Bragging was not my intention but this feeling to let go had never come so quickly with any other woman. I had lasted for good stretches of time, loving the woman slowly and fully so that I could have my release when she was fully satisfied. But now... Now I was like a high school idiot needing to get to third base before the date ended, like a teenager losing himself in his first time.
The absence of Mila's sobs surprised me and I looked at her face. Her eyes were red and swollen yet wide with arousal. The knowledge that she, too, felt this desire had always been there but now wasn't the time to see it because it did horrors to my self control, weakening it gradually. Nonetheless, I restrained myself. That is, until I caught a glimpse of her nipples, tight enough to look like pink raspberries and to seem just as delicious. I clenched my hands into fists to contain myself and then I didn't know whether to feel grateful that she had covered her breasts with her arms or completely frustrated because the beautiful sight had been taken away from me. I looked up at her face, trying to meet her eyes to read what she was feeling but she shied away from me and looked to her side. She was embarrassed.
"Mi amor," I murmured, watching her eyes change from a soft stream to a raging storm of aroused blue fire. What those eyes did to my state of mind and body was indescribable. Yet in those eyes I saw the self consciousness of someone who didn't know her body, had none or little experience with the male body that was meant to fit perfectly inside and against hers... But not just any male body. A sudden wave of possessiveness tightened my chest and there went another first. "Don't be uncomfortable with me." I whispered, moving my hands to circle them around her arms and slowly take them away from her body.
The sight was there again, her breasts so perfect that my hands itched to see if they fit just as perfectly when I held them. I had to know.
I placed my hands on her hips, feeling the smooth wet skin underneath my palms. I let my hands slide upward, having instinct partially take over, and I felt the delicate slopes of her body until I reached the soft hollow separating her breasts from the rest of her. It was driving me mad, watching her shiver with delight every time I touched her. But when my hands molded gently over the satiny mounds of her breasts, I found I was the one to shiver. I watched her face; the way her eyes and the storm of blue disappeared. I needed those eyes to keep me rooted and I would do everything I knew to do in order to bring them back.
Slowly I circled my index finger around her tiny peaking bud, a groan escaping my throat from the response elicited from by body. I'd have to stop soon but how could I when she fit as perfectly as I suspected within my hands?
All I had to do was open her eyes and then I'd stop the sweet torture if I was able. With my fingers I continued to caress and fondle her breasts, stroking her tight nipples with delicate care from the fear of alarming her. But Mila was far from frightened when she melted against me, only adding to how badly I needed her and needed her gone. It was an endless conflict. Take her, fully take her body as mine, or keep torturing myself in this masochistic method even with the knowledge that I would not have her in the end.
And when I heard her unrestrained sign of pleasure, a moan so tantalizing that the hairs on the back of my neck stood, I was certain I could not keep this up any longer. My eyes found hers, finding them filled with raw tears and the innocent surprise of what she experienced with me, telling me to continue. That look my stupid sense of male pride to the edge and all I wanted was to show her every pleasure of making love, to have her lose herself as she crashed into me.
I bit my tongue as hard as I could without drawing blood so that I would come into reality with the sudden jerk of pain before I couldn't control myself and pushed her against the shower walls, thrusting into her until I emptied myself in her delicate feminine folds, her breath coming in panting efforts as she came around me and clenched me deeper within her with every sweet pounding of her hips. The erotic image I envisioned seared my blood and had it boiling in my veins.
I had to stop.
Reluctantly my hands left her breasts, sliding up her torso and watching her every movement, memorizing each and every place she loved to be touched, the places that made her shiver and shake with my hands over them. I rested my hands on her shoulders, gliding them gently over the delicate slope of each one until I found the dark wet mass of her hair and took it in my hands, letting the strands slide within my fingers. It was wet silk, seemingly black with the coat of water even though I knew all too well that its color was a rich chocolate brown. Our gazes caught and held, her sad eyes seem to smile weakly at me. Were they thanking me? The knowledge that I had somewhat helped her eased my overwhelmed mind and I remembered what I was here to do. I left one hand in her hair and used the other to retrieve the shampoo that stood on a rack beside Mila, squeezing a good amount in my palm. With my other hand now on her hip, I gently turned her so that her back was to me, and I started to wash her hair, throughly rubbing the shampoo on the large mass until it was lathered with froth. Then I washed the shampoo away, using the conditioner and washing that away too.
I would finish soon, right after I cleansed the rest of her. I grabbed the bar of soap once again and thought of what to do next, my pulse quickening when the image of her alluring round bum contrasting brightly against the tan of my hands came to mind. I clenched my jaw, fighting with myself as I tried not to. But I had to. And so my soap covered hands slid down the delicate slope of her spine to curve over her bum.
Her flesh was flawless, a lively ivory that seemed so delicate I knew it would turn red if I touched her the wrong way, too rough or too hard. This was the ass I had fantasized about every day for the past weeks; the one I had watched move slowly up and down as she walked; sway side to side in alluring rhythm to her every movement; the one that was standing bare and beautifully in front of me, melting into my hands. I swallowed the lump in my throat and rubbed the bar of soap over her bum then tore my hands away before I lost control.
I continued washing, down the length of the back of her legs, and all the while I had to bend down. "Turn around, sweetheart." I said and she moved slowly as I gripped her shins in support. I soaped her feet then upward to finish lathering the length of the front of her legs. I tried against my will to keep my gaze from going up any further but I failed tremendously. My eyes went to the dark black hair that matted her womanhood and I gritted my teeth, swallowing hard to keep back a groan of frustration. I knew I couldn't go there. I'd explode, certainly this time, if I dared going there. I wouldn't, not yet. It was too much, too intimate.
I stood up, looking down to catch sight of her face. She looked helplessly at me, waiting. "Move back. Into the water to wash the soap off." I said, smiling softly. I held her arms as she stepped under the water and let it flow over her. The soap started to gradually leave until she was completely rid of it. There, we were done. A sharp pang of disappointment reverberated through my system and I wanted to shake my head in disbelief at myself. I needed a distraction.
"Clean?" I asked. Mila nodded, her face serene and flushed. Was it the heat of the water or embarrassment? I couldn't know. "Good." I smiled, raising a hand to move a thick wet strand away from where it covered half of her left eye but Mila's face changed before I could do so. I stopped moving and she began to, coming to me and wrapping her arms around my body, her breasts plushly pressed on my skin. Oh lord. She laid her head on my chest and breathed in. A sob broke free when she tried to exhale and I quickly covered her with my arms. I let her grieve against me as the water soaked us, holding and comforting her. My heart hurt in seeing her like this, so shattered and hopeless. The bright glow in her eyes was gone. I knew I'd have to get it back. Soon.
"Come on, honey. Let's get out of here." I said and she sniffed, nodding her head. She started to move back but I didn't let her, instead holding her as I turned off the faucet and left the tub. I couldn't risk her falling or slipping again. Once out and safe on the dry floor, I took a towel from the hanger behind the door and wrapped it around Mila's body as is she were a baby, carrying her into my arms in just the same fashion. She buried her head into my chest as I walked to her room, trying to keep the sobs at bay. I hated that she felt she had to hide her feelings. If she wanted to cry then she should cry, or scream, or yell, or shout; whatever she wanted to do, she could do. I wouldn't hold it against her.
We were now in her room and I placed her on her bed, wrapped in the towel. I went to her drawers and picked out the first pair of pajamas I saw and then a pair of panties from the bedside table. I would get her dressed and end this torture on my part so that I could have something left of my sanity tonight. Clothing at hand, I went to her and picked her up by the shoulders, her closed eyes opening in alarm. The towel slid down, leaving her fully exposed before me once more. I clenched my fists.
"Cisco," She said my name, a weak murmur of disapproval at her exposure but she was too weak to really hiss at me. I stayed silent, grabbing the shirt and opening it in front of me to put it on her, but Mila put her hand out in protest to take the article of clothing. "I- I can do it." She said, looking into my eyes.
"It won't make a difference." I tugged the shirt over her head and slid it on. Two more to go. "Stand." I said and she did so, trembling visibly. I needed to get her warm. Quickly, I took her underwear and set it low at her feet. She used my shoulders for support as she slid her feet in each hole. I slid the panties upward, looking at her face all the while in an attempt at not letting my thoughts dwell on what I was doing. It worked, partially, and now the pants were the only thing to remain. The same process was repeated and she was fully dressed.
I didn't move for a second, just stared at Mila, pondering over what to do next. "Where're your comb and blow drier?" I asked.
She furrowed her brows before speaking, "On top of the vanity. But you don't need to get-"
"Oh, but I do. It's fifty degrees outside and you're not going to bed with all that hair wet. It's a death sentence. For the both of us." She considered what I said and shrugged, looking down at her hands. I could see she was fighting tears again.
I quickly took the two items from the vanity top and returned, plugging the drier in and taking the comb in my hands. It would be the first time I ever brushed anyone's hair. I moved the thing to her head and started from below, just as I had watched my mother do to my sister.
"Cisco, I can do it myse-" She started.
"Mila." She sighed, giving in, so I stood and wrapped the towel around my waist so the wet boxers wouldn't soak her sheets. I sat down and continued brushing her hair until I was sure any knots were gone and took the dryer, using it until her hair thoroughly dried. I turned the miniature machine off and the soft whimpers of her crying twisted my gut. "Honey," I mumbled, my voice broken. My hands went to her hair, caressing the strands and brushing them again with my fingers. "It'll be alright." I whispered. Mila shook her head in negation, staring in front of her into God knew what. I closed my arms around her waist and pulled her back to cradle her in my arms. She buried herself into my body, sending shivers up my spine, and closed her eyes, rubbing her hands over them to wipe away the tears. I wanted to do that for her.
"I'm tired." She whispered and I took that as my cue to leave her alone. I bent down and pressed my lips to her forehead. "I know." Carefully I moved from underneath her, feeling her body become tense as I left, and tucked her underneath the blanket. Her eyes bore into mine, telling me something that I couldn't quite place.
I turned and started to walk away.
"No, Cisco. Stay. Please." Mila's voice stopped me as she called my name and I slowly turned around, finding her sitting on the bed, waiting for me. Her eyes were red and swollen as she restrained her tears, telling me she needed me to hold her as she cried through the night. I smiled softly at her and nodded, going to her with no objection. To sleep with Mila's warm female body carved against you was any man's dream. I slid into the sheets of the bed with her and took her body into my hands, laying her on top of me where she effortlessly curved to fit every contour of my body. I rubbed soothing circles into her back with one hand and gently caressed the other within her chocolate hair. I felt every uneven movement and tremor of her body as she cried but I knew she was holding herself. The tension in her usually relaxed muscles gave her away.
"Honey, don't hold back. You don't have to pretend with me." I said and I heard the sharp intake of breath that she took at my words.
"I kn-now," she stuttered. "Thank you."
"Anytime, sweetheart." I held her protectively, loving the satisfying feel of her in my arms, and continued running my hands along her back until she relaxed. She cried herself to sleep, falling unconscious from the strain of the day within just minutes. She could have her rest now.
***
I heard a knocking at door, my entire body becoming tense. Who would come here at this time? Rarely had there been a visitor come over in the time I had started this job.
I carefully slid Mila off of my chest and slid her onto the bed, tucking the sheets around her. Then I rose to my feet. I had retrieved the gun throughout Mila's rest from where I had left it before bathing her: in the kitchen cabinet. Now it was right beside me, resting on the bedside table within arm's reach. I took it and clicked off the lock. Silently I walked to the bathroom where I quickly dressed, finally letting go of the humid boxers. I check the time on the kitchen clock: nine twenty two in the p.m. Whoever was at the door immediately took their place on my bad side. Once at the front door I looked through the peep hole. It was Dr. Merchant. What the hell did a doctor, who's patient was dead, want at this time of the day? Jack shit, that's what.
I placed the gun into my pocket, carefully hiding it with my shirt. I swung open the door, no pretense whatsoever when I looked into the eyes of the aging man. "Yes?" I asked, eyebrow risen inquisitively.
"Hi, Mr. Medina. I know it's late-"
"Damn right."
"Yes but I wanted to see how Mila was doing." The doctor said, rubbing his hands together anxiously. What was his problem?
"She's asleep." I simply replied. I didn't like the doctor. I never had. I sensed in him the weak mentality that I quickly despised in people but I had been careful not to show it to Mila. I couldn't have her worry even more than she already had about her mother. She wouldn't have been living. But then again, maybe I should've told her... Could the doctor have had something to do with Josephine's death? Perhaps a deliberate prescription of the wrong medicine, or an excessive amount of the right one. Yet my mind rejected the possibility. With a weak mentality came the lack of doing significant things. Like murder. In the eyes of a doctor I didn't see a killer just an accessory. Besides that came the fact that Josephine was battling against stage four lung cancer. I had known she was far gone, death becoming the inevitable, and Josephine had known that too. Killing her wouldn't be beneficial to anyone who wanted her dead. It would be extra blood and trouble on their hands.
Guilt gripped my gut and churned it. Mila had been the only one in the dark about her own mother's coming death. I could've told her that her mother had less than a month of life left in her. Maybe she would've done something differently had she been aware. I hadn't the right to take that away from her but I had, thinking it was better for her. Had I made the right choice? In the end I knew I had, for she was too sweet and delicate to slowly wither away with her mother as she died. That was exactly what she would've done had she known her mother was dying; she would have died with her. And it would've been my fault. I knew for certain that I had made the right choice. The only thing I hated and wished I could take back was the impact of the shock as it all fell on her at once.
I noticed the doctor hadn't left and my agitation fueled. Why did the doctor seem so anxious and laced with worry? I had to know now and I was in no way, shape, or form tolerable to any kind of bullshit. "Did you do anything to harm Mrs. Belvedere?" I asked, looking him right in the eye.
"What? No! Of course not!" Merchant exclaimed steadily.
"Shut up." I hissed, motioning with my hands for him to keep his voice low. The man seemed to want to cower away from my gaze, flashing his eyes to and fro other areas of my face as he tried to avoid my eyes. I believed him, for some reason, when he said he didn't do anything to harm Josephine. But still... There was something that didn't fit well. My instincts had never let me down before and I wasn't going to stop trusting them now.
"She's fine, Doctor Merchant. Thank you for your concern. But I'm afraid you can't speak to her now. She's finally gotten some rest since Josephine passed and I'm not about to wake her now." I said, my voice steady.
"A-Alright." The doctor nodded quickly and I shut the door right then.
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*Dear readers that I know in real life, I established that this has been the most awkward moment of my life. The whole time I wrote this my cheeks were pink and I was thinking, "Oh shit, they're going to see my dirty thoughts. Oh my God. NO!" It was so damned frustrating. Then I was like, screw it. I'm writing what I want. So if it was too much, sorry. -.- And don't tease me. Lol. But seriously, don't do it. I will send my stampede of rainbow colored elephants after your asses.