InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 9: Subterfuge ❯ Double Trouble ( Chapter 56 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"Fuck me."

Grinding his teeth together, Evan stared into the brilliant hazel eyes that glowed at him through a half-closed haze of lust.  Lying flat on his back, unable to draw anything more than shallow breaths that rasped in the darkness, he could smell her as she held herself above him, braced on one hand and her knees, her other hand slipping down her body, between her legs, a harsh moan tumbling from her lips as her fingers slid into her pussy.  He shuddered at the squelching sound as she pumped those fingers in and out a few times before bringing her hand back up, her fingers glistening in the moonlight filtering through the windows.  Staring at her hand for a few seconds in complete fascination, she smiled suddenly, laughed unsteadily, her tongue darting out to lick the moisture from her fingers.

"Oh, hell, no," Evan growled, grabbing her hand and dragging it to his lips, sucking her fingers into his mouth greedily.

She laughed again, rising up on her knees, reaching down with her free hand to grasp his cock in her hand, only to lower herself on to him.  The sensation of his head slipping between the naked folds of slick, hot skin was too much, too wicked, too overwhelming.  A throaty sound, almost like a purr but not quite, escaped her as she rose up then down again and again, each time only taking his head into her before pulling away.

"Goddamn it, V . . ."

"I've wanted you," she said, her body shaking, quivering.  "I've wanted this."

He groaned again when she squeezed him tight.  His body jerked in violent reaction.  She laughed, pleased at her undisputed control over him, began to lower herself onto him once more.

Letting go of her hand, Evan grabbed her hips, jerked her down as hard as he could.  Her scream echoed in the thickening air, her body convulsing around him as her orgasm took her.  Breasts heaving, body quaking, pussy tightening around him, it was too much for him.  The first swells of come shot out of him and into her, and with every beat of his pounding pulse in waves of pleasure so intense that it almost hurt.  Dazed, disoriented, unable to do anything as his mind struggled to keep up with his body, he couldn't move for a long moment.

Valerie's breaths were little more than gasps.  All too soon, she pushed herself up on her knees once more, their bodies separating with an obnoxious pop of wet flesh separating as the suction was released.  She scooted down his legs as his orgasm dripped down his cock, down his balls, only to catch the mess with the heat of her tongue, the sound of her greedy slurping electric in the room.  "Damn, V," he half-moaned, leaning up on his elbows, fascinated as he watched her bathe him with her mouth.  Sucking one of his balls into her mouth, she rolled her tongue over it, rewarded with the sound of his harsh groan as he fell back once more.

"You're still hard," she murmured, idly jacking him off with both of her hands.  "Why is that?"

"Why do you think?" he ground out.

Her answer was a soft laugh as she scooted forward to position herself again.  "Don't tease me, V," he warned.  She closed her eyes, sliding the tightness of her pussy down over him in one fluid motion.  Arching her back, she grasped her heels in her hands and thrust out her hips, ground them against his.  Rising and falling, creating a slow rhythm that increased with the sound of her breathing—panting, moaning, begging, and taking.  Evan opened his eyes, stared at the gorgeous swell of her breasts as they bounced up and down with the jerky motions of her body.

"Damn, you're hot, V," he murmured, his muscles bulging as he fought for restraint that he just didn't possess.  "So fucking hot . . ."

"Shut up and fuck me, Roka," she retorted.

He chuckled, but the sound rapidly turned into a groan when she pulled away from him, crawling up over him to grasp the headboard.  Evan managed to snag one of her nipples in his mouth, drawing it in deep and hard.  Her body shivered as her scent exploded around him once more, and he bit down gently, prolonging her pleasure as he pinched her other nipple between his thumb and index finger.

She was so deep in the midst of her orgasm, her gorgeous face contorted in an expression that bordered on pain as her pleasure intensified, that she didn't seem to notice when he rolled out from under her, positioned himself behind her, lifted her ass just a little higher to position her to receive him.  Her pussy gave no resistance at all—she was too wet, too ready for that—and with a visceral growl, he jerked back on her hips as he thrust his forward, savoring the liquid warmth that surrounded him as she opened and closed on him.  "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God . . ."

"What's the matter, V?  You gonna come?" he goaded.

She moaned, shoving her body against his, meeting him somewhere in the middle.  "Make me," she ground out between thrusts.

"Gladly."

He was losing himself, damned if he wasn't.  She was so tight that he was afraid that he'd hurt her, but her wanton movements were enough to convince him that she wanted more.  The undulation of her body, an involuntary ripple of shivers, was impossible for him to ignore.  As though everything within her was reaching, grasping, pulling, she gasped out his name, her body taut as she struggled for a control that she just couldn't attain.  Renewing his grasp on her hips, he jerked her back hard.  She screamed over and over again, her voice calling out to him, calling out to God, alternately praying, swearing, until words became nonsense.

He could feel it deep inside his balls, the absolute torture right before the end.  The tingle, the tightening, the swelling, the surging.  Jerking her back hard, grinding his hips against her ass, he held her there, pumped her hard.  She screamed, cried, laughed as her body exploded, and he closed his eyes, called out her name as the flow of his orgasm coursed deep inside her . . .

"Evan?  Oh . . . my . . . God . . . What in the world . . .?"

Evan shuddered and groaned as that voice cut through the stupor of sleep that still beckoned him.  He didn't want to wake up, did he?  No, he didn't, because . . .

"Wo-o-ow . . . I'm not sure whether I should be really disgusted or thoroughly impressed . . ."

Opening his eyes, struggling for breath, the first thing that Evan realized was that he had only been dreaming; Valerie wasn't there, after all.

The second thing he realized was that, though the woman of his dreams—literally—wasn't actually there, he really had come all over his sheets—a number of times, apparently.

Female giggling, and it was most certainly not Valerie.

The third thing he realized?  It was going to be a cold day in hell before he was going to forgive Madison for waking him up from that particular dream . . . "What do you want?" he grumbled, closing his eyes and starting to roll over to go back to sleep.  Wincing when he rolled right into a very cold, very wet mess, he heaved a sigh and sat up.  "Damn."

"You know, I remember that you used to have issues when you were a teenage kid, but I don't think I've ever seen even you make this big a mess, Evan," she pointed out sweetly.

He snorted and shot her a fulminating glower.  It only made her laugh harder, which figured.  Sitting up with a marked grimace and a heavy sigh, he glanced around, only to shake his head at what the mess he'd managed to create.  "Shit . . ."

"Then again, I don't think you even made this much of a spectacle of yourself when you were a teenager," she mused, grasping the stripper pole and leaning casually against it as she continued to grin at him.  "Congratulations, Evvie. You've reached a new level of twisted."

Heaving another heavy sigh, Evan didn't bother to look at her.  "What do you want, Maddy?" he growled in the nicest tone he could muster, raking his hands over his face in a defeated sort of way.

"What do you mean, what do I want?  You asked me to come over and do your hair, remember?  Something about an interview with Hellion magazine later . . ." she drawled.  "Guess I can see why you'd forget that, though.  Good dream, I take it?"

"Damn good dream," Evan muttered, digging his hands into his hair as he hunched forward with his elbows on his knees.  "Fuck."

"I'm going to assume that you want to take a shower before I work on your hair," she added in a completely understated, almost dry sort of way that irritated him, nonetheless.  She grimaced.  "You got some in your hair," she pointed out, then suddenly shook her head.  "I don't think I even want to know how you managed that."

"Yeah, whatever," he grunted, tossing the soiled sheet aside and shifting to stick his legs off the side of the bed.  "If you're going to keep pestering me, you might as well make me a pot of coffee, will you?"

"All right," she agreed, pushing herself away from the pole and sauntering toward the doorway.  "Do yourself a favor, Evan.  Open the windows.  It reeks in here."

The sound of her laughter lingered in her wake along with the echo of her footsteps on the floor, carrying back to him in the silence.

Damned if he could credit what had happened.  Just how long had it been since he'd had something as base as a wet dream, anyway?  Half forgotten memories of his teenage years and the mornings that he'd woken up with a crusty sheet slung over his hips made him grimace.  In those days, he'd learned how to wash those sheets himself, knowing full-well that his darling mama would've blushed about fifty shades of red—if she'd figured out why his sheets were messed up, to start with.  She would, of course, since semen had a very distinct odor, and Evan might've always liked to tease Gin Zelig, but even he had to draw the line somewhere . . .

Of course, there were the rare times when his sister, Jillian would catch him, stuffing his bedding into the industrial sized washing machine.  She'd giggle and tease him about his predicament, and he'd shrug it off since he hadn't honestly been too embarrassed about it, in the first place, but as far as he knew, his mother never had figured out anything, and he'd been thankful enough for that, too . . .

The overwhelming problem these days was that fucking kiss, though.  If he'd just been able to ignore that particular urge, he'd be a lot better off now.  Considering that he knew that it was his own damn fault to start with, he also couldn't rightly blame her for her reaction, either.  He'd known at the time that kissing her was the worst idea that had ever crossed his mind.  In fact, he'd have been more surprised if she had gone on to pretend that nothing had happened, in the first place.

What he hadn't been counting on was Valerie's abrupt decision to avoid him completely, and the hell of it was that so far, it was working out quite nicely for her.  The real reason that he hadn't forced the issue yet was simply because he didn't dare.  Sure, he figured that he deserved the unwilling separation, at least on his part, considering he'd known at the time that kissing her was bad.  No, the real problem was that being around her might well be an even worse idea, all things considered.  There were times when he wasn't sure whether possessing the ability to remember everything was a blessing or a curse.  Now was one of those times.

Yanking the sheets off of the bed, Evan let out a defeated breath and balled up the bedding, tossing it onto the floor before stomping toward the bathroom door.  Going on two weeks without anything but the most necessary communication from the attorney was wearing thin on Evan's nerves.  Something had to give before he ended up doing something drastic—and probably stupid, too . . .


Sipping a cup of tea in a distracted sort of way, Valerie read through the toxicology report that she'd already examined numerous times since she'd taken on Zel Roka's case.  There wasn't any real help there, and she hadn't thought that there would be.  Still, she knew that sometimes the biggest hints were the hardest to find.

In the last two weeks, she'd devoted herself to poring over the notes she'd collected, the official reports and the written statements, the taped interviews, all of it, and while she was no closer to figuring out any way to help the errant rock star, she was growing more and more certain of one insular thing: there was definitely something that everyone was keeping from her.  The trouble was, she had no idea what that might be and whether or not it would help or hinder Evan's overall case.  At the moment, the best course of action available to her was the sketchy idea of going after the responding authorities since more than one person had attested to the fact that Evan hadn't seemed to be under the influence of anything at the time.  Too bad she knew as well as anyone that it wasn't unheard of to administer sobriety tests regardless of appearances when there was an accident of that nature.  Still, had Evan not been tested, the entire thing would have easily been the fault of the other driver.  It was cut and dried.  Evan had the right of way; the light was green and had been for a number of seconds before he'd even entered the intersection.  By all accounts, he hadn't been speeding, hadn't broken any rules of the road at all.  If not for that damned toxicology report . . .

Letting out a deep breath, she set the report aside and reached for another document—this one, Evan's written statement just after the accident.  It was the same thing that he'd said all along, the same story.  There weren't any discrepancies there, either.  He'd decided to go on a beer run, he'd approached the intersection but didn't stop since the light was green, and Mr. Mathis blew through the red light on his side, smacking straight into Evan's car.  All in all, it was as straightforward as it came.

So why couldn't she shake the feeling that everyone was lying to her . . .?

Setting aside the reports and the inch-thick file she'd compiled, she set the mug aside and stood up, bracing her hands against the small of her back and arching to stretch.  Pulling off her glasses, she tossed those onto the file on the sofa before wandering toward the windows.

Evan.

Grimacing as the memory of the first meeting after the club catastrophe, Valerie slowly shook her head.  Certainly, she wasn't sure what she really had expected.  She supposed that she'd thought that he'd act completely different—more of the innuendo and the outrageous flirtations that she'd come to expect from him.  What she hadn't really expected was the gentle teasing, almost coaxing nature that he displayed.  As though he'd realized that he'd gravely overstepped his boundaries, he'd seemed more like an elementary school boy, trying to get out of trouble after being caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

And for a moment, it had almost worked—until Valerie had reminded herself that it was all just part of his act.  He could be entirely too charming, of course he could, when it served his purposes.  That was the reason why a man like him was so dangerous.  Able to turn on that charisma at a moment's notice and without so much as blinking an eye, he knew damn well what he was doing, and as long as he got his way in the end, he didn't really care about anyone else's feelings on the matter.

No doubt about it, something wasn't right.  Even still, there wasn't much she could do if no one was willing to tell her what she wanted to know, was there?

Glancing at the clock, she bit her lip and shuffled over to her desk, retrieving her cell phone.  He had to be up by now.  It was a little strange that he wasn't when she'd called earlier.  At the time, she'd told herself that it was a good thing since he couldn't possibly be getting into any trouble if he was still sleeping.

"Oh, who the hell am I trying to kid?" she muttered as she opened the device and hit the button to connect the call.  "He'd find a way to get in trouble, regardless of whether or not his eyes are closed."

It rang three times before she heard the soft beep when the call connected.  "Hey, V.  What's up?"

Valerie blinked and lowered the phone, staring at it for a long second before pressing it against her ear again.  "Maddy?  Why are you answering that man's phone?"

Madison laughed as though Valerie had just told the world's best joke.  "He's a little busy at the moment, but I can have him call you back, if you want."

Rubbing her forehead as she paced as the floor and back, Valerie shook her head and let out a sigh.  "Busy doing what?  Please tell me he's not up to something, or I swear, I'll—"

"Relax, sweetie," Madison hurried to say.  "He's doing an interview; that's all."

That was enough to satisfy Valerie just the tiniest bit.  "An interview?  Then that's okay. He didn't answer his phone when I called him this morning . . ."

"Yeah, he was still sleeping when I went over to do his hair.  He's being very well behaved at the moment—at least, for Zel Roka, anyway . . . Of course, there's a good chance that his maid might well kill him when he goes back home—or she might end up in tears.  Either is possible."

"Maid?" Valerie echoed, shaking her head since she wasn't entirely sure where that comment had come from.  Evan's maid only came by early in the morning twice a week to clean everything but the kitchen and the music room since Evan tended to get a little anal about those rooms in particular.  "Why would she kill him?"

For some reason, Madison's laughter seemed a little heartier than it probably ought to have been.  "No real reason," she quipped between giggles.  "I just don't think she's going to particularly enjoy washing his sheets, is all."

That remark didn't really make any sense to her, either, but considering Madison was talking about Evan's bed, Valerie figured that the hairdresser had to be alluding to some sort of debauchery or another and snorted loudly.  "Why can't he stay out of trouble for a whole day?" she muttered, more to herself than to Madison.

Madison giggled again.  "It's really not what you think, V, I swear.  Suffice it to say that he's just not in the best of moods today, God only knows why."

Letting out a deep breath and ignoring the heavy sarcasm in Madison's voice, Valerie decided to let it drop.  She wasn't entirely sure that she believed the hairdresser, but she couldn't say that she felt like delving into it any deeper than she already was.  As long as he wasn't doing anything illegal or anything that could potentially get him into more trouble with the law, then he was on his own, as far as she was concerned.  She wasn't his lover, his mother, or his conscience, and best she remember that.  "You swear he's not doing anything he isn't supposed to do?" she asked.

"I'm sure," Madison replied.  "You know, if you're so worried about that, why don't you come see for yourself?"

"I'm trying to work on his case, Maddy," she pointed out, unsure why she didn't really want to tell Madison the absolute truth.  Evan might have told her; Valerie didn't know, but it seemed to her that talking about the incident would only serve to lend it more meaning than it should have, didn't it?  "Just remind him that he promised that he'd abide by my terms, all right?"

"Are you sure that you don't want to remind him yourself?"

"I've got a couple interviews lined up this afternoon," she hedged.

"For Zel's case, you mean?"

Valerie rubbed her forehead as a surge of irritation shot to the fore.  Madison sounded like she was fishing for information, didn't she?  Why . . .? "Yes.  I'm going to speak with Mr. Mathis and his attorney, and then I'm going to meet with the first officer on the scene."

Madison didn't reply right away.  "Didn't you already talk to them?"

Valerie frowned at the contrived casual quality in Madison's tone.  Of course, there was the off chance that she was just hearing things that weren't there or making too much in her own head of it all, but her instincts told her otherwise.  Madison was definitely a little too polished about the whole thing.  "Yeah, but there were a few follow up questions I wanted to ask."

"Anyway, just remind him that he agreed to behave, okay?  Thanks, Madison," Valerie said before clicking her phone closed with a sigh.  She couldn't shake the feeling that Madison knew more than she was letting on, and the only question was, why wouldn't she spill it?  Valerie knew well enough that Madison adored Evan, and in that vein, she had to want to protect him, so why was she lying?  Or maybe not lying as much as she was just not saying something—something that might be really important . . .?

His case was set to go to trial in mid-November after he finished the mini-tour in late October.  That didn't leave much time for her to figure out what was going on, especially if she really was forced to go on tour with that man.  Last week, she'd filed a motion to have the judge reconsider his order that she travel with him.  She only hoped that he listened, because the very last thing that she wanted to think about was being alone with Evan Zelig for that length of time . . .

There was no sense in worrying over it, though, at least at the moment.  Better to keep herself busy, wasn't it?  If the judge didn't reconsider, then she'd figure out what she was going to do . . .


"He looks awful."

"Doesn't he?"

"Mhmm."

Evan leaned to the side, snagging a sheet of staff paper and the mechanical pencil and concentrated on scribbling a few notes as he tried to ignore the running commentary coming from across the living room.  He was able to keep a lid on his moodiness during the interview that had lasted just over three hours, and he'd even agreed to pose for a few pictures to accompany the article that was slated to run in the publication next month.  He'd even been able to control his temper when Mike had called to tell him that he'd arranged a spot on KROC-95.4 with shock-jock, Tim McCarvell later in the week—an interview that was pretty much guaranteed not to go well since MC Car, as he liked to call himself, tended to try to annoy his guests as much as possible.  What he couldn't fathom and was having distinct trouble with now was exactly why Madison had opted to follow him home, and when Bitches stopped by less than an hour ago, the two women had immediately decided that he looked like a good target for their silly chatter.

"Has he been like this all day?"

"Something like that," Madison quipped.  "Of course, he looked worse earlier . . ."

"Is that even possible?"

"Oh, sure . . . It's entirely possible . . . If you'd only been here this morning . . ."

Determined to ignore the irritating women, Evan grabbed a pair of wireless earbuds and jammed them into his ears to drown himself in the very loud and discordant mayhem that was Your Monkey's Uncle, a new band out of Cincinnati that Bone had badgered him into giving a listen.

"His bedroom smells like he held a massive orgy—with only one participant, of course."

Evan snorted since he could still hear Madison despite the music blaring in his ears.

Bitches laughed.  "Oh?  Have you told Bugs about it?"

"Oh, my God!" Madison groaned, covering her mouth with her hands in a show of mock horror.  "Bugsy wouldn't be able to contain himself!"

Rolling his eyes, Evan snorted again before tapping the volume control to turn it up.

Bitches stood up, sparing a moment to shake her hips to adjust her tan leather micro-miniskirt before sauntering over to stand in front of him.  "You poor baby," she crooned—he could still read her lips, damn it—as she reached out to touch his cheek with a tender hand.  He might have believed her if he hadn't seen the tell-tale glint of amusement in her eyes.  "But you know what they say, right?  Better out than in . . ."

Evan knocked her hand to the side then yanked out the earplugs and tossed them aside as he shot to his feet and started to stomp away.  "I didn't have fucking gas, goddamn it!" he snarled.

"Aww, now, Zel, don't be mad," Madison pleaded between bouts of giggles as Evan kept moving in the direction of the one room that neither of them would dare to follow him into: the music room.

Flipping them the finger, he could feel his mood sink from 'bad' to 'worse' with every moment that passed.  His expression of his true feeling only served to heighten their amusement, which just figured, considering.  He still hadn't completely forgiven Madison for having not interrupted his interview to tell him that Valerie was on the phone, anyway, and her current behavior wasn't doing a thing to appease him, either.

He'd almost reached the sanctuary of the studio when the phone near the house's computer monitor cut him off.  Ignoring the two women who were still cracking stupid jokes behind him, he grabbed the phone and smashed it to his ear.  "What?"

"Hey, Roka.  Just letting you know there's a pretty young thang on her way up to the house."

Evan snorted—he'd been doing that a lot today—and tapped the touch screen monitor to bring up the security camera on the front porch.  "Who is she?"

Bone chuckled, and Evan could hear the thickly padded leather chair squeak and groan as he sat back.  "Dunno.  She asked for 'Meezter Rokaah," he replied, rolling the 'r' with a flourish of his tongue.

Evan frowned since he couldn't see the girl in question.  "Great," he muttered under his breath before dropping the receiver back onto the cradle, he flipped through a couple more cameras before sighing in frustration and heading for the foyer, instead.

He'd just stepped through the archway when the soft knock sounded on the metal door.  Jerking it open with a curt yank, he scowled at the uninvited guest.  "What do you . . .?" Trailing off, his eyes widened as a slow sense of recognition seeped over him.  A strange trill raced up his spine, only to explode in his head as his brain slowed to a crawl then stopped altogether.  "Y-You," he murmured, unable to look away from her.

A timid little smile surfaced on her features, and she suddenly giggled before throwing her arms around his neck in a blur of motion that he certainly hadn't quite expected.  "Meezter Rokaah!" she exclaimed without relinquishing her hold on him.  "I find you, yes?"

Evan blinked, his mind still blank as he slowly, almost pathetically lifted a hand to pat her back.  "Uh, y-yeah . . ." he stammered stupidly.  "You . . . You sure did . . ."