Chapter 11
~~ Lorelai ~~
I wake, startled. The fire is still glowing low, and in its light I see Rusty is alert, his posture says he’s ready to act. He”s watching the form in the bed.
I hear it again. The groan that must’ve woken me, then a muffled curse, low and angry. Rusty looks at me, back at James, and then back to me. Something is wrong and he wants me to fix it.
I can just make out James’s arm lying outside the blanket. He’s gripping a handful of cloth so hard his knuckles stand out, strained. He jerks in his sleep. “No, don’t...” That is clear enough. He’s having a nightmare.
Rusty and I leap up at the same time and rush the few steps to the bed. I stop short, not exactly sure what to do. I read somewhere you aren’t supposed to forcibly wake someone from a trauma dream.
I reach out and ease my hand over James’s, but I feel the flinch, the gathering of muscles, ready to strike. I pull my hand back. “James,” I whisper. He doesn’t move, doesn’t waken, but I hear him grinding his teeth.
How can I soothe him without becoming whatever he’s fighting in his dream?
There’s room behind him, so I crawl up onto the bed, my bad knee screaming at me. I lean against his back, rubbing his shoulder slowly. “James, it’s okay.” I whisper close to his ear. “You’re safe.” I keep running my fingers over his shoulder and down the tattooed bands on his arm. His muscles are tight, and I keep up a soft pressure, moving up and down again. It takes several minutes, but gradually his arm relaxes, and his fingers release their grip on the blanket.
Finally, James turns to me. I can’t see his face, but I know mine is highlighted by the fire glow. “You were having a nightmare,” I say softly.
His whisper is rough, “I remember.” His hand lifts to cup my shoulder. “I was back in Afghanistan, and my team was caught in between a suicide bomber and a squad with ARs. The bomber was just pulling out his trigger. Then an angel came to lift me out, telling me I was safe.”
His hand runs down my arm. His calluses scrape against my skin, leaving a reverberation running through my body. I shiver.
James mistakes it for a chill and moves the blanket out from under me. He lifts it over me and reaches under to run a hand over my arm again. My eyes close as sparks follow in the wake of his fingers, my hand comes up to rest against his chest. His hand moves from my shoulder down my side to my waist.
His fingers barely tighten, but I feel it. Flickers of flame travel from his hand, through my stomach and lower. My hips shift on their own, rubbing against his groin.
He’s hard. Very hard. My eyes fly open to search his face. But he”s in the shadow, and I can’t read his emotions or his intent.
“Lorelai...” He grinds out my name.
He’s refused me twice now, but my body is burning. It’s been a long time since someone touched me in any unselfish way, and I don’t remember ever feeling this kind of heat. A desperate need rips through me.
When my hips move this time, it’s with purpose. I move my hand under his shirt. His skin is hot. I trace his abs with my fingers and his hand squeezes my waist. His pull is tentative, but it’s there. My lips fall open, and an audible breath is dragged out.
His fingers open and smooth their way to the curve of my lower back. A rush of liquid pools between my thighs.
“Lorelai.” He grits out again. “I’m grateful you woke me, but you have about 10 seconds to go back to the couch.”
His arm pulls back. I know he wants me, but he’s fighting it, giving me room to leave, to choose. Somehow that is hotter than any of the pushing, squeezing fumbles I’ve experienced.
My hand under his t-shirt moves up over his pecs and brushes across his nipple. He groans, but this time it’s a sound of pleasure.
“No,” I hear myself whisper. “Touch me. Please?”
“Fuck,” he growls. But his hand is back on my waist, smoothing over my hip, cupping my ass, pulling me against him. He lifts onto his elbow and his mouth is on mine. His tongue parts my lips and delves inside.
My tongue dances with his. The friction sends tight curls of smoke spiraling through me. My hand reaches up to his jaw, around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into my mouth.
His hand pulls my leg over his hip, and my sex is settled against his hardness. I grind against him, needing to feel more, harder. The room falls away and the places we’re connected is all there is in the world.
Then he’s pushing me away. Cool air rushes in, and I feel more than hear my whimper.
But he’s shifting me until my back is pressed to the mattress, and his hand is shoving inside my panties. One strong finger presses into me, thick calluses rasping against smoothness, sliding through the stream of my desire. My back arches off the sheet and my eyes roll back in my head.
He pulls completely out leaving my whole being empty and I stare up at him. “More,” I beg. “Please more.”
His other hand smooths my shirt up to my neck. I can see his face now that his back isn’t to the fireplace. His eyes are pools of darkness, stripping me raw. His mouth is partially open, and his tongue licks out to touch his lower lip. Then his mouth is on my breast, drawing my nipple into hot wetness. His tongue flicks and teases, drawing circles and then sucking again.
My hips lift, searching. I hear my ragged breathing. “Fuck.” The curse sounds angry, demanding.
He slides his finger back inside me, pumps a few times, then pulls back. He adds a second digit, pressing in hard and reaching so, so far. I make some hungry sound, and I feel him curse against my nipple. My channel clenches around him, and I shatter into a thousand pieces, my head spinning, flames devouring me.
My whole body is shaking, but he isn’t stopping. His fingers move in and back, his mouth travels up my neck, his teeth scrape my skin, then his tongue is on mine again. His fingers thrust inside me, circling, searching— Oh, fuck. My hips move to his rhythm, riding his fingers. His mouth leaves mine. “Come for me again,” he demands. “Now.”
I convulse around his fingers with zero control over my own body. “Harder.” He grounds out against my mouth, curling his fingers up, sending circles of flame in a tornado spin rippling through me. Waves of fire crash over me. Stronger. Over and over. I forget my ugly past. I forget my name. I forget how to breathe. Tears escape and run down to my temples.
There is only James, slowing his hand as my trembling subsides. He’s watching my face now. He sucks my juices from his fingers, then one comes up to trace the trail of tears. Then he leans down, following his finger with his tongue. When his mouth covers mine again, I taste the salt on his tongue, and I shiver.
My skin cools, and the waves of orgasm settle into a smooth pool. My hands release their grip on the sheets, and I flex my fingers to relieve the ache. I reach up to grip his waist, but he’s moving away again. I try to hold him against me, and I must’ve made a sound. “Shhh. I’ll be right back,” he whispers.
I close my eyes. I’ve never felt this... This warm thread winding around me, connecting me with living, pulsing need to another person. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to allow anything... Less. If I can’t have this, I want nothing.
I feel emptiness sinking its way back into my soul as he edges off the bed.
Then his hands are back, pushing my shirt over my head, leaving it tangled around my forearms. He pulls my thong down, down, around my ankles, then my legs are free to wrap around him as he kneels between them. But he’s still pushing me away when I need to be closer.
Then he”s shoving my thighs apart, his mouth pressing a hot kiss against my clit. His tongue laves between my lower lips, leaving heated flickers in its wake. He sips at the juices collected there, then pushes his tongue inside me. A moan rips out of me.
His tongue does a dance around my clit, then his whole mouth presses down onto me, into me. He’s devouring me. My body, my soul. Everything I once thought about intimacy is replaced with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. Just when I feel my inner thighs tingle and start to tremble, he moves back.
“Dammit,” I curse. Loud.
His mouth is against my stomach, and I feel him chuckle. He presses kisses up and up and up. Cool air flutters in the places where his mouth has been. Then there’s nothing.
“Lorelai.”
I grunt, angry that he’s pulled away again.
“Look at me.”
I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed, but I squeeze them tighter. I just want the heat spreading back across my skin.
“Look at me,” he insists. My eyes obey, opening instantly to his demand. I realize he’s propped on his arms above me, his knees between my legs.
“Lorelai.” My eyes jump up to his again.
“I’m going to fuck you unless you tell me no right now.” He waits, watching my face.
A growl erupts from me. “Yes. Fucking yes.” I almost shout. “Fuck me.” I tell him. “Fuck me right fucking now.”
He laughs.
I frown at him. Nothing is funny. I need... I just NEED.
“Such an impatient little chipmunk.”
I hear his amusement and feel sobs rise up in my throat, the emotion overwhelming me. My mouth parts to let them loose.
But then he’s pressing against my entrance. His fingers reach to part me, and blessed heat is pushing inside me, stretching me around the head of his cock. He hadn’t been leaving me. He’d been pulling on a condom.
His mouth comes down on mine, his tongue teasing mine into action. Hunger consumes every conscious thought. I pull him closer, and he’s filling all my spaces. More than filling. Pushing the boundaries, the walls I built around my heart crumbling at the foundation.
My hips meet his, thrust for thrust, until my vision tunnels and all I can see is James. My hands are on his braced arms, and I feel my fingers tighten as the momentum speeds up.
I close my eyes, determined to memorize every sensation. Delicious friction and the small bite of pleasurable pain as James grows even thicker and pounds against the back of me turn into a kaleidoscope of colors behind my lids.
It seems like only moments go by when I feel my muscles tighten around James’s cock and I’m shuddering. My nails dig in, searching for a solid grip, as wave after wave of icy heat envelopes me.
When my body settles, an acute awareness returns. I open my eyes to find James watching my face. His pace slowing.
I wonder what he sees right now. I know my body is in good shape. I stay active. I’ve always received more attention than was wanted from the opposite gender, the same gender even, but I’ve never considered myself beautiful.
Given the brand names on his clothing, I’m sure he’s used to women in a certain class category. Ones who get their hair styled and their nails done on the regular, and I am not that.
I’ve seen undeniable interest in his eyes even though he resisted, and there is no doubt that desire is there. The proof of that is inside me right now. But now that he knows some of my story, maybe his view of me is changed. Does he see me differently?
“Where’d you go, Chipmunk?” James’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Come back to me.” The deep timbre vibrates through him and into me, and at once I feel sweet heat curl through me and my pussy clenches in response even though his movements have stopped.
“There you are,” he whispers. “We can stop if you want to.”
The idea of his body moving away from mine right now brings an automatic, “no” to my lips. I’m not even sure I say it out loud. He doesn’t move, so I guess he’s waiting for more clarity. “Don’t stop,” I grind out.
He chuckles, and my pussy clenches even harder and drenches him in fresh wetness. Some escapes from around him, circling my ass and dripping down to the sheets beneath me. My hips move into him.
James’s gaze goes to half-lidded at that, and a moan pulls from him. His mouth drops to my neck, and I hear him curse. He pushes harder into me and holds himself tightly still. He lifts his eyes to mine again, and one hand reaches up to cup my face. His thumb brushes my cheek.
And then he moves again. Pulling himself almost out so slowly and thrusting in again hard and fast. And again. My world tilts, and I can’t tell up from down. The only parts that exist are his body and mine, moving in coordination. My breathing turns to a pant, and James’s is ragged.
He holds my eyes. “Lorelai,” he breathes out. “You good, sweets?”
I frown. I can’t focus on his words. “What?”
His voice is strained. “I’m going to come,” he says. “Do you need a few more minutes or are you good? I want you with me.”
“Do I...” I shake my head while the words sink in. That question has never been presented to me. “I...” I take a couple of breaths. “I’m good.”
Two more hard thrusts and I feel his cock leap inside me then pulse over and over. My body answers with its own throbbing. I convulse around him, and my body dissolves into an explosion of too bright colors echoing in my head.
James collapses on top of me. I’m suffocating, but the weight of him is welcome even if I never breathe again. He pushes up onto his elbows, brushes errant wisps of hair from my face, and runs his finger over my cheeks. “Fuck, Lorelai. That was... Unexpected.” He pushes farther up on his hands, and I feel his not-quite softened cock slide out of me.
I feel empty. And cold. Already. He leans back over me and presses a kiss to my mouth, and a flush of warmth spreads over me again. “I’ll be right back, Chipmunk. Don’t move.” He pulls the blanket up to my shoulders and heads into the bathroom.
He’s only gone for a few seconds. I barely have time to wonder if he is satisfied. I mean I know he finished, but from his use of “unexpected,” maybe he wanted more from me. The survivor in me rears her head to tell me I’m being stupid, but it’s James’s warm body sliding under the blanket next to me that chases the thoughts away.
He slides one arm under my neck and pulls me half on top of him. “Thank you,” he whispers, and I’m startled.
“What for?”
“It’s been a long time since anyone saved me from a nightmare.” He nuzzles my hair with his face. “And it’s been even longer since one has ended so sweetly.” He rubs his hand along my arm, over my shoulder, down my side. “Will you sleep here?” he asks. “I know you’ve been making the loveseat your bed, but stay here with me tonight?”
I nod against his chest and burrow my face into his curls there. There’s no way I could make myself get up right now. My legs are still shaking and I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to walk properly. I’m pretty sure I won’t sleep after this either.
James’s hand slows on my skin until he’s still. His breathing levels out and I giggle at the slight snore that erupts. I know I should be used to it after the past few nights, but it still amuses me.
This experience is nothing like I’ve found to be the norm with men. I think of some of the quick tumbles I’ve had in the past. For me, sex has always felt transactional in some way. Men took what they needed and rarely cared about my satisfaction. I usually had to get myself off in the shower later, if I even bothered.
This felt like the scenes I almost always skipped in the coverless romance novels I used to retrieve from the dumpster behind the drugstore when I was a bored teenager. I scoffed at them, never once imagining it could be even a little real.
This I want to play on repeat in my head until I know every second by heart.