Page 44 of Shifted

"I haven't had sex in years, I’ll admit, but I want to." I'd probably never see him again after this. Maybe this could be the band-aid I could rip off. I could finally add this aspect back into my life and not just stick to watching porn in my bed to please myself.

"How serious is this boyfriend? I mean, am I home wrecking?" I shrugged in response. I didn’t fully know where Reed and I stood; it was newer, and we were taking it slow and steady. Most I know have sex after the second date.

"He's new, no sex yet." He scoffed in response, leaving me more confused than relieved.

"He's with you and hasn't had sex with you yet? What an idiot." He took me, placing me directly below him gently.

"No, no, it’s not like that. I just haven’t wanted to. The last guy I slept with, I loved. So you can see why I’m hesitating,” He brushed his finger against my lip and then leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. “I mean, how do you know I'm not some ugly witch? Maybe that's why?" Referring to the mask that conceals my identity. It was almost thrilling and slightly silly that we were doing this with only our lips and eyes revealed in the open.

"You’re right. I don’t know… Maybe if you'd take it off—" I grip his closest arm and stare him straight in the eye.

"Touch my mask, and I'll kill you, no questions asked, Amartolós." He raised his hands, escaping my grip in response.

“See, now I know who loves me,” he teases, “Guess it’s a green light for us then, huh?” He jokes, and I find myself laughing. It eases the tension between us. "But you'd still fuck me, even if I look like a witch?" he asks. I shrugged at his question.

"I think beauty within a person is worth more than beauty on the outside of a person. You help me kill bad people, so you can't be too awful?" My hand reached for the zipper of his pants, and he stopped me. Instead, he moves to my pants, slowly pulling them down, revealing my sheer thong, then he bends down, biting the waistband and pulling it down with his teeth.

I help him with his belt, and I lean back as he pulls himself out and rips open a condom, discarding the wrapper into his pocket. "So, you've just been waiting for this moment to get into my pants, huh?" I tease.

"I never said I was a saint, did I, Angel?" He thrust into me with no warning, and I gasped. It hurt, he was bigger than I expected, and it hurt. But with each thrust, the pain grew into pleasure. I gripped his arms as he moved in a rhythm, sinking deeper into me.

"Amartolós," I moaned aloud as his finger pressed down on my clit.

"Shhh, Angel, there's still people after us." Our lips connect, the one thing about his body that was revealed to me. Even his tattoos were concealed, but I knew he had sleeves of them underneath his clothing. I craved to explore every inch of him, but I couldn’t. It was almost like a tease, in a way.

He groaned as I tightened around him slightly, as a warning to being close, "Fuck, Amartolós.” I beg as a pool of fire burned my stomach as he pushed down on it.

"So fucking tight," He moans as I can feel myself begin to pulse around him, “Angel. Come for me, baby girl,” he says, allowing me, and so with one last thrust, I did. My legs shook as I tightened around him, crying his name against his lips.

After a few moments, we lay in each other's arms, silent and breathless, "Is this now the part where you kill me?" I rasped, joking once more. He pulled out, discarded the condom, and pulled up his pants.

"Afraid not, Angel, but this is the part where I have to go." He ripped a piece of his shirt to clean me up and helped me with my clothes. “Don't worry; I'll stalk you again soon." And with that, he left me with my heart racing and me feeling like a cheater. I'd never cheated, and I felt a bitter taste on my tongue. But the problem was that I liked him.

Amartolós.

A man whose identity I had no clue about.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Hope Taylor

Stressed is one word I’d use to describe myself at the moment. I'd honestly say that Christmas was one of those holidays that you were either excited for or felt like running away. As I mentioned, the stress of the holiday in itself tends to be too much, especially with the unwelcome memories of past holidays and dates that you personally don’t cherish like many others do. But as a parent, it’s also about making sure Joely doesn't pick up on Santa and keeping that magical secret.

But it also means seeing more people than usual. It’s not that seeing the Jones family over the holidays stressed me out; it’s that this Christmas was different. This time, it was worse because I was meeting Reed's parents and his family.

So, as I looked at him, scanning through his tablet at the island counter, letting go of my thoughts, I voiced what I feared.

"What if they think I'm a slut?" I heard him choke on his water as he looked over at me. Clearing his throat, he stared at me, confused.

"Hope, why on earth would my parents think you're a slut?" I wasn’t quite sure, but I had this illusion in my mind that, for some reason, most of the time, meeting the parents goes wrong. Today, I had a strong sense that it would, but my only comparisons are My Big Fat Greek Wedding and that episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory meets Logan’s parents. But I didn’t think it would go either of those ways, mostly just their image of me. Well, precisely, of what they might think of my character.

“I mean, I didn’t make responsible choices when I was younger. I don’t really have any family, and I have a fatherless child and-"

"An incredible daughter, you're a goddamn lawyer on top of that? You did law school while pregnant with Joely and then with a newborn. My mom was impressed by you, Hope, not disgusted?" He came behind me, massaging my shoulders as if he could sense my stress.

"What if she hates my pajamas?” I turned to face him, standing in my candy cane footie pajamas and looking down at my slippers on the floor.

"We won't be showing up to dinner in our pajamas now, will we?" Nodding, I took a swig of my wine and walked out to his porch to view Copley Square, "So what is our friend doing this evening? Last I saw her, she wanted to bake cookies with me?" I chuckled at the memory. Joely walked up to Reed, handed him a ball of cookie dough, and asked him to help to the best of her ability.

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