NOTHING BUT A BAD TASTE. (✓)

18. THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

( unedited )

EBÉN WAS HEAVILY WIRED with edge, his body and soul purling at the closed door, craving to make her reacquaintance. It had been, at best, a few hours since he'd seen her last. He missed her bad but the athlete didn't give a heck that he was simping this hard. She was, after all, the object of all his carnal desires. He sat, seated on the edge of his sheet-rumpled king sized bed, dressed down in grey athletic sweats. Desire violently flooded his tongue, and his nostrils were reminded of her ambrosial scent that would both permeate the air and the silk folds of their bedsheets. Without so much as a prompt, he was reminded of how she had a habit of drowning her entire brown skin in nothing but silk and how her beady hazel green eyes would be locked into Ebén's browns with expectancy, as the 6ft giant of a man loomed over her like the tiger he was.

"Go away," Ebén attempted to self-sooth himself by using his baritone husk to talk at it and try to wish away his length and pronouncement. He took in a breath — a tight one, and another and another. The rapid rising and falling of his chest was a measure that the athlete was impatient with want, and wasn't sure he had the fortitude to wait any longer.

Luckily, he didn't need to as his attention had been immediately pulled to the sound of a gentle rap on his door. Then came another rap and another. "Bonita, the door's open!" Ebén shouted out from where he was seated, giddy with excitement.

"Close your eyes first, but don't open them until I tell you to," said Maya, but there was something about her airy voice that sounded harsh and muffled. Maybe it was her face mask, constricting her ability to speak freely. Nevertheless, Ebén gladly obliged.

The door opened and then immediately swung close, and Ebén was greeted to the sound of a slow but sensual heeled walk in. She said the first word.

"Hi you," There was dithering in her voice, almost as though she was completely unsure of herself. She didn't tug on the ends of his beard like she would normally do before her soft lips would greet his.

"Hey baby. I'm sorry 'bout this mornin'. I sh— "

"Shh, it's ok. I forgive you."

She just stood there, about half a step in front of him, in tense silence as she looked down at him in brooding thought. His lips were already wet with moisture, as she copied him. That action alone, over and over again, had almost distracted her from the real reason she had rocked up to this city like this.

She had come to deliver something.

"Can I open my eyes now, or are you 'bout to torture me for longer?" Ebén's husk teased desperately, not wanting to continue to navigate in darkness. He wanted to grab her, make her tumble and make love to her over and over.

There was a pause that felt like it went on forever.

"Wait," she said pleadingly, her hands now fumbling his beard as Ebén grinned akin to that of a Cheshire cat with his eyes still closed, "You look so g—" Having grown impatient, Ebén finally unmasked his figurative blindfold — his eyes landing on her.

No, that. 

There was no exchange of words on his part, but he had a wooden look that said a thousand words.

What... the actual fuck?  Ebén's facial expression was contorted and had mirrored his thoughts.

"Ebén, I can explain..." she then said, appearing all meek and contrite as she gathered her courage. She knew he wouldn't give her the grace to explain, the man was infamous for his impatience.

"Explain then, Ezra." Ebén didn't initially say much, but Ezra could feel his wrath through each syllable. "Explain why you're in my hotel room, pretending to be my wife when the last time I saw I made it perfectly clear that there would never be me and y—"