Page 31 of Just One Night
I'd never been there, but right away I knew it was Mrs. Gardner, Ella's favorite neighbor. We didn't talk about everything we should have, but I did my best to find out the details she was so guarded with. It took me two days to go after my girl, but at least her neighbor expected me. But, I was two days too late.
“Gone, handsome. Back home to Ohio. Packed it in, said to tell you to fuck off if you came looking. Fuck off.” Ilaughed even as her words stole the ground from underneath me.
Fuck me. Gone. Fucking gone? Back to Ohio?
All those details I wanted but never asked for. Ones that would let me know where to find her, how to get her to come back, how to make it right, I didn't have. None of them. We laughed and fucked and I ate her sweet pussy and fed her before I fucked her again. But, I never made her give me those details.
For two weeks, I sat back and watched my world fall apart because of the details.
Details like where my girl, the woman I loved, the best thing to ever happen to me, grew up.
How I had let my best friend turn his back on me and try to give what we put everything into away to a woman who didn't give a shit about him.
Or how I had ignored all the signs that Ora had been plotting to shake us down from the very beginning. Ora might have wanted me once, but what she really wanted was KL Hotels, and the lawsuit that landed on my desk two days ago said as much.
“Fuck her up. Shake every fucking slimy scale loose.” I barked to my private investigator, Mac, who is tasked with blowing holes in Ora's case.
“And, the other girl?” Mac cocks his head as he mentions Ella.
“Find her for me, Mac. Tell me every detail you find.” Ora would take time I didn't truly give a shit about. I would fight her and Taylor if I had to.
Right now, my focus was getting my girl back. Getting every fucking detail about her and giving her mine.
Like how I loved the fuck out of her and would shackle her to my goddamn bed if she thought about walking out on me again.
Details like how I loved her laugh almost as much as her moans.
How I liked holding her all night more than I liked spanking that sweet ass of hers. It was a close though.
Or details like how I think I loved her a little after the very first time she called me Sir, on that text message months ago.
Two months now.
Two months of knowing Ella existed and not nearly enough time having her, learning her details, telling her how good she was, how beautiful and perfect and how wanted her to love the city and love being mine and love me.
“Found her Sir. Check your emails for my files, tickets to Springboro and photos my contact came through with this morning. Good luck, Sir.” I can't get to my email fast enough as I rush from the office, telling my secretary to handle shit. I didn't even know what shit I mean. I didn't much care lately.
Ella. My gorgeous Earthy motherfucking Ella.
A vision in pink leggings that made her legs go on for days, a tiny tank top that flashed her taught belly and pretty tits, snuggled into a hoodie where she held her fluffy cat, Bilbo. Fresh off a plane at the airport, she looks stunning but sad. I ache to hold her at the same time I want to tear a whole in those leggings and punish her tight pussy for days.
Boarding KL Hotels's private jet, because right now fuck yes, I am calling in perks, I head to do one or the other. Probably both.
“Natalie,” I bark at my secretary, making a mental note to send her on a vacation once my shit got cleared up, “Get ahold of her land lord. Pay whatever she owes. Have her things brought to my place and unpacked instead of sent back to Ohio. Get started on her paperwork this afternoon.”
Two hours later, I step off the tarmac in Springboro, knowing all the details I needed to know about Ella motherfucking Foster.
Twenty-five, Ella was raised much like myself; with a mother who forgot how to mother and left her seeking something she never really knew how to find. With her, I found the control I needed and Ella found being controlled by me worked. A fuck-stick of a boyfriend lured her to the city promising things he could never give her. Mostly because he was giving it to everyone else.
Nearly a year ago Ella moved into her own place, got a job teaching dance at a studio just down the block from her place and tried to make a go of it for herself. I am proud of her for sticking it out when so many others would have run home. But, I am shamed I hurt her badly enough to send her running back home.
“We are here, Sir.” I go still, shoving my phone away as I peer up at the house I am parked in front of.
It's like looking into my own past. Situated in a tidy neighborhood, it’s the pink house on the block—though not actually pink, it stands out because everything about it says those inside don't belong in the quiet cul-de-sac. Too many cars parked in the drive, in need of a paint job and with secrets I can hear echoing through the rusted windows as I walk up the steps.
I knock twice before a rougher, rounder, colder version of my Ella pulls the door open. I smell cigarettes, Pine-Sol and greasy food. I step back once she cracks the screen door, ducking just her head out.
“Help you?” A long cigarette hangs from her lips, bobbing as she narrows her eyes at me.
