Chapter 38 Thirty Eight
AMELIA XAVIER
How can one explain an emotion; anger, joy, worry… . I couldn't explain what I felt whether it was anger, disgust or even clear excitement. But only one thing could help overcome such feelings.
Violence.
I punched Owen in the face, and instantly felt a lot better. “Ouch, I deserved that beautiful,” he said sarcastically, his voice deep, but clear like spring water out from a stone.
“You deserve more,” I retorted, my shoulders relaxed and my fist slowly uncurled. I assessed Owen Winters, his hair slick and shiny, and as always, he had a clean look. His shoulders seemed broader , probably with years of experience with work. “You're different,” I muttered, his cologne strong, dousing my nose from the smell of alcohol that filled the room. I didn't know what the perfume scented like, but it worked wonders for my nose.
Owen laughed, taking a bottle of alcohol from the small bucket on a table. “Let's get some air, love, we have a lot to catch up on,” he said, his smile seducing.
Focus, Amy.
The night was cool and the air, zephyr. Life dotted the night that one would think we were in a scene in a movie. We drove to the park in silence, he seemed focused on his driving, so I tried the same with my thoughts, but guess what?
I was so terrible at doing that shit.
“Let's stay here,” he suddenly spoke, making me look up at him. “We just had to drive down here, we could've gone home, Mr,” I said and he laughed.
“Your place or mine?” He asked, smirking wickedly. “Anywhere. I'm comfortable anywhere.” I shrugged, grabbing the alcohol, popping it open and downing it.
Who cared about cups? I didn't.
“Easy, sweetheart. I didn't come here so you would get drunk,” he said, taking the bottle from me.
I don't want to face you with a sober mind.
I gazed at the sky, the stars were scarce but tried its best in dotting the sky evenly. I shut my eyes knowing what came next — the question I dreaded more than anything.
Please, don't ask… please don't…
“How have you been?” Owen asked. I shrugged, grabbing the bottle from him. “I guess I'm doing great,” I answered, taking another gulp. He didn't stop me.
“No. I meant when I left, eleven years was a long time, Amelia, I'm just asking,” he sounded innocent, his voice low or was it just me?
“Nothing, I left for boarding school not too long after daddy got married and I'm back…”
“In Paris?” I rolled my eyes not wanting to answer the question. “I have my freedom, Owen,” I muttered.
The night was long.
Owen took the bottle from me and gulped down the rest. I looked at him, eyes wide, what the fuck did he think he was doing? “Are you crazy? I can't drive now, I'm tipsy!” I yelled, but he chuckled and patted my cheeks.
“I'm not drunk. I can hold my liquor.”
We stared into space for a while saying nothing, the effect of the alcohol started taking effect on me. “I missed you,” I muttered trying to stay awake. He said nothing.
“I said I…”
“I know, Amy, I did too,” he said, standing up and dusting invisible dirt from his trousers. I couldn't decipher his expression, but I liked it.
“Let's get you home, beautiful,”
“What? I don't know where I live!” I said the alcohol, fully taking effect.
“Oh fuck.”
OWEN WINTERS
I stood watching Amy for a while trying to decide what to do with her. She didn't have her address on her and she was crazy drunk. I bit my lower lips, my brains working hard.
“I could just drop you at a friend's place and…”
Take her home. Be a gentleman, Owen Winters.
My inner self scolded me for even thinking of taking her elsewhere. Pulling her up, I carried her to the car.
“Put me down, Mr! I'll tell on you, bitch,” she cursed drunkenly, kicking the air.
“Feisty even when drunk, yes?” I remarked chuckling at her behaviour.
Putting her in the car, I began driving. The alcohol was slowly taking over, but I could manage at least till we were home. The ride home wasn't long, it was actually three stones throw away from the park. I didn't live in the Winters house rather somewhere less popular — somewhere that didn't attract the police and the mafia.
The mafia owned the police.
“It's hot in here!” Amy shrieked tugging at her dress.
“We're home, pumpkin,” I joked. She was fascinating when drunk.
Home.
Carrying her inside and to my room, I lay her on the bed. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” I muttered, kissing her hair softly.
As I stood to leave… a few seconds to standing to be more specific, Amy pulled me in making me lose my balance, I landed on her.
No. She didn't make me lose my balance… I wanted to.
“Are you okay, Amelia?” I asked sincerely concerned.
“When you call me that, it sounds like you don't really care, Owen,” she said, her voice a soothing whisper. “I… fuck, you're drunk. I'm drunk. I need to sleep, Amy,” I replied, trying to stand, but she was tempting.
Kiss her… you're drunk, just go to bed… no, kiss her… .
“Then kiss me”
“What?”
“Kiss me,” she said again, this time louder. Before I could respond, she was all over me. Lips on mine, hands on my thighs.
Fuck!
I didn't hesitate, I let her savour me. I could feel the movements of her hands as it traced from my back down to my thighs. As it caressed my dick.
“We should stop, Amelia,” I muttered while holding her neck. God knows how much I loved the way she made me feel, but…
But what?
“No, I know you've always wanted this. I waited eleven years for this… or did you not?” She pouted, her eyes watering.
“Fuck this. I want you,” I replied, pushing her to the bed and ripping her dress off. I stared at her breast from her bra, all swollen and soft.
I stopped fighting the effect of the alcohol, I let the spirit take over me. It was so good to be fucking home.