9. Slow and Sweet
slow and sweet
Solomon
I intend to stay awake while she's gone, but exhaustion wins—Scarlett wasn't wrong when she said I'm still healing. I've been toughing it out, but I’m still sore and under full strength from the weeks of starvation, dehydration, and abuse.
Which is how I find myself asleep, kicked out on the bed, pistol at hand, hat over my eyes.
Feels like I've barely closed my eyes when a noise brings me awake—a footstep on a stair tread. I remain in place, as if asleep—the way the hand carefully tries the knob tells me it's not Scar.
Fuck. I don't love the idea of an unsuppressed gunfight in a place with walls as thin as this. Stray rounds will carry and hurt innocent people, not to mention the noise will bring a lot of attention.
I roll off the bed and creep quickly across the room to stand against the wall, disgusted with myself for leaving my knife across the damn room.
The door creaks open slowly, and a suppressor enters the room, followed by the rest of the gun and a long, burly arm.
Not a pro, though—he fails to sweep the room properly; you always check the inside corner and then behind the door. This guy just barges in, firing at the bed blindly. Unlike in the movies, the suppressor doesn't quiet the report to a weird little puff of air—it's still fairly loud, a clack that echoes in the room.
I lunge, wrap an arm around his gun arm, bend it the wrong way and smash it inward with my fist, breaking the elbow. Strip the gun from him while putting his body in front of mine—he jerks as several silenced rounds smash into his chest, and I shove him forward at the second shooter, dropping to a knee and firing between the first shooter's legs, catching the second mark in the knee. He drops, shouting, and I sweep up to my feet and lash out with a front kick, catching him under the chin. His head snaps back, teeth cracking together. I smash the butt of my pistol against his forehead, dazing him, and then again, rendering him unconscious and likely giving him a pretty severe TBI. The first mark is gurgling on the floor, bloody froth at his lips, the holes in his chest whistling.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I growl. "Stupid amateurs."
I go to the window and look out: our room facing an alley on one side, and the street on the other. Directly below the window is an open dumpster overflowing with trash.
Perfect.
I shove the window open, toss my pistol onto the bed, and then drag poor Mr. Sucking Chest Wound by the heels to the window. Pin his feet to the floor with my feet, pull him by his hands onto my shoulder, and stand up with him. Dump him onto the windowsill and then shove him unceremoniously out. He lands in the trash, wriggling weakly. Shooter number two is already coming to—motherfucker must have a hell of a hard head. I haul him over and dump him out, as well; unfortunately for him, he falls wrong and cracks his head on the side of the dumpster, leaving a red smear.
He moans weakly, writhes a few times, and goes still.
"Fuck." I wipe my face. "He's fine."
"What the fuck, Sol?" I hear behind me.
I whirl to see Scar in the doorway, carrying a plastic bag loaded with carryout containers.
I shrug. "Had a situation. Handled it."
She sets the stuff down on the bed, grabs the silenced pistol from the floor on the way to the window, and peers out.
"Well, they're still alive…mostly," she mutters: POP—POP. "Not anymore." She grins at me. "You didn't kill 'em, I did."
I sigh. "I mean, yeah. But they'd have died anyway."
"Still, it doesn't count in my book. Right? I pulled the trigger that ended them." She checks the gun in her hand. "Suppressed Glock 19. Fuckin' beautiful."
"Make that two," I say, grabbing the other one.
She shakes her head. "Can't even get food without trouble finding you."
"Any sign of anyone out there?" I ask.
"Nah. That's what took so long—I took the long way back and made sure I wasn't followed."
"So, do we stay or go?" I ask.
She shrugs. "Stay for now. I'm eating while this food is even remotely warm. Plus, I need a nap."
We shut the window and sit on the bed—it's close quarters, being a twin, and me being the size I am.
"This is fucking fantastic," I say. "What is it?"
"It's called Bandeja paisa," She answers. "Beef, beans, rice, plantains, and avocado, and some other shit. Close, cheap, and filling."
Once we're both finished eating, we set the empty containers aside.
"I got some rest," I tell her. “I’ll keep watch."
She shrugs. "We’ll both hear if anyone comes."
I slide down and pull her onto my chest—before, she always resisted this kind of close contact unless it was directly preceded or followed by sex, and even then, she'd only allow it for a short time before putting distance between us.
This time, she just sighs, her hand on my shoulder. "Why did I fight this so hard?" she murmurs sleepily.
I shrug. "Dunno. You tell me."
"Too tired for self-reflection," she mumbles.
"Doesn't matter. I've got you. Rest."
"Mmmmm."
A moment or two later, she's sound asleep. I doze again, too, but don't let myself fall asleep all the way, not with these assholes finding us fast as they have been.
Daylight fades to evening as an hour passes, and then two, and then three. A cell phone rings just outside the window—one of the shooters. Which gives me an idea.
Later, though. Scar is still asleep on my chest, and I’m not about to disturb her.
She feels too damn good like this, her head on my chest, hand on my belly. Close. Warm. Mine.
I doze again.
Movement brings me awake—Scarlett stirring.
"Slept awhile, huh?” she mutters.
"Few hours," I answer. "Feel better?"
She nods against my chest. "A lot, actually. I think there's something about your chest—I dunno."
I rub her back. "It's called feeling safe, babe. You can actually relax a little because you know I've got you."
She sighs deeply. "Maybe you're right." She snuggles closer. "I guess I could get used to falling asleep and waking up like this."
“Me too, honey."
A long pause. "I didn't like feeling safe," she says, answering my question from earlier. "I didn't trust it. It's still hard for me."
"I see you trying, Scarlett. Means more than I can say."
I slip my hand under her shirt and find the soft warm skin of her back. She hums quietly as I caress her back between the waist of her shorts and the band of her bra.
"That's nice," she whispers.
So, I keep doing it. Rub her back, scratch in wide lazy circles, smooth with my palm where I scratched.
After a few minutes, she lifts up on an elbow, looking down at me. Her hair is tied back in a stubby ponytail. "Keep doing that and I'm liable to fall back asleep."
"Wouldn't be the worst thing."
"We need to move. Been here too long as it is. I'm honestly surprised they haven't gotten another hit team here already."
"Probably won't be too long. One of their cell phones rang outside earlier," I say. "We should grab it on our way. I can use it to call Inez. Maybe even get her to do some magic and figure out who these fuckers are being sent by. Because they wouldn't still be after me if it wasn't a high-dollar payout.”
"And you have no idea who or why?”
I shrug and shake my head. "Nope. Like you said, I'm sure I have a lot of enemies out there, but it's hard to say who actually knows who I am and has the skills and resources for an operation like this. Lotta cash being spread around, looking for us."
She lets out a breath. "I think we take one alive and do some enhanced interrogation."
"Works for me."
For a moment or two, neither of us speaks. She looks down at me with a million questions in her eyes and a million feelings.
"What, Scar?" I whisper.
She buries her face in my chest, covering the subtle flush of her cheeks. "Nothing."
"Bullshit. Don't nothing me. Tell me."
"I just…" she whispers against my chest, words muffled. "I might be willing to see what soft and sweet feels like."
I touch her chin, tilting her face up to mine. "In that case," I whisper, my words a breath on her lips, "let's dance."
“Dance?" She says, brow furrowing. "I don't—"
I silence her with my mouth, capturing her lips with mine, but this is not a ravenous, aggressive kiss. I start it off slow and gentle, sliding my fingers into her hair, feeling the contours of her skull with my fingertips, tasting her mouth, her tongue, her breath. She whimpers softly as I claim her tongue, the kiss wet and deep, and slow.
For several long, luxurious minutes, I just kiss her. Making her hungry and eager and then backing off to slow and soft, and then ratcheting up the intensity again. Until she's half on top of me, fingers digging into my chest over my shirt, panting into the kiss.
"Sol," she gasps, pulling away an inch or so. "Jesus."
"You like that?"
She presses her forehead against my cheek, nodding. "Yeah," she breathes in answer. "I do." She palms my jaw. "Kiss me like that again. Please."
So, I do.
Long, slow, not moving past kissing. The deeper we kiss, the more she writhes against me, and yet I keep my hands away from her curves, caressing her face, her hair, her back.
She grinds her core against my thigh. "Sol," she whispers. "I need you."
I put her on her back and lean over her, pulling her hair out of the ponytail. "Tell me what you want, Scarlett."
"Everything,” she pants. "You. Just you."
I dip closer and consume her in another kiss, this one hotter and hungrier, finally allowing my need for her to break free of the iron control I've kept it under.
She arches her back and whimpers as I turn the kiss wild and needy, letting my hand skate up over her belly to cup her breast over her shirt. Her nipple is a hard pebble even through the layers of bra and shirt.
She lifts into me, and I help her sit up. She raises her arms over her head, and I peel her top off, taking the bra with it, letting her soft small taut breasts bounce free. I cup the back of her head and capture one of her nipples in my mouth, suckling it until she gasps. "Fucking love your tits, Scar."
"You don't—you don't wish they were bigger?" she pants.
“No. Never." I lay her down and worship her breasts. "I love them. They're perfect."
"They're tiny."
"They're you. That's all that matters. I wouldn't change a single thing about you, Scarlett."
I kiss down her belly, dip my tongue into her navel. Open her shorts. She lifts her ass and shoves shorts and underwear down, kicking them off together inside out.
Her fingers dive into my hair, tangling and tracing. "Sol, please."
I laugh, kissing her hipbone. "Please what?"
She pushes my head toward her center. "Eat me out, baby. Please."
"Love it when you call me baby," I answer, and then fuse my mouth over her clit.
"Feels weird, to be honest," she answers, and then gasps. "Oh fuck —it feels weird, sounds weird."
"It's not weird. I love it."
She cradles my head as I lap at her. "Love hearing it, too."
"I know."
I take my time, then, devouring her slowly, building her to a climax and backing away before she can come, again and again, until she's writhing under me.
After the fourth or fifth time I deny her the orgasm, she growls like a feral cat. "Sol! Quit fuckin' teasing me."
"When I’m ready, sweetheart, when I'm ready." I slip a finger inside her and resume my slow circling of her clit with my tongue.
This time, when I bring her to the edge, I let her fall over it into climax. She clutches my head and shoves me against her core, grinding her hips and wailing through gritted teeth.
"Sol, Sol, Sol," She chants as wave after wave slams through her.
She slumps back against the mattress, panting raggedly, sweating, flushed. Still shaky and out of breath, she starts tugging at my shirt. "Off. Off, dammit."
I chuckle at her impatience, peeling out of it. "I'm not going anywhere, honey," I tell her.
She ignores this, dragging my sweatpants off and grasping my cock the moment it springs free. "We don't have a lot of time and I need you."
I kick the sweatpants off and fill my hands with her curves, carving my hands over her body as she caresses my cock and kisses my jaw, my throat, my mouth.
I roll into her, and put her on her back. She's never liked this position, so I don’t give her all my weight, which would make her feel trapped. Brace my weight on a forearm and cup her cheek. "Okay?"
She nods. "Yeah."
"I know in the past you said you don't like—"
She cuts me off with a kiss. "Things are different. I'm good for now. I'll tell you if I'm not." She reaches between us and finds my erection, guiding it to her entrance. "Just…just make l—" she exhales sharply, cutting herself off. "Just make me feel good, Sol."
"Coulda said it," I whisper. "We both know what you were gonna say."
She closes her eyes, shakes her head. "Not ready for that yet."
"We know what it was between us before, Scar," I murmur. "Even if we never said it."
"Sol," she says, wrapping her thighs around my waist. "Talk later. Fuck now."
I chuckle. "Ohhhh, Scarlett." I touch my forehead to hers. "So impatient."
“Yeah, I am impatient,” she snaps. "I don't want to get halfway to an orgasm and then have to stop to shoot people."
"The way things have been going," I say, "that’s exactly what would happen."
I touch my forehead to hers and ease into her. She gasps, and then her breath catches, and she claws her fingernails into the backs of my shoulders as I enter her in a long, slow, grinding thrust.
"Holy fuck, Scar, you're so goddamn tight," I growl.
She hooks her heels together at the small of my back and grinds eagerly against me, impatient and wild. "Sol, please."
I know what she's doing—now that she's here beneath me, she's having second thoughts about soft and sweet.
I trap her hands in one of mine and pin them over her head. "Hey, now. Ease up, wildcat."
She struggles. "Let go, Sol."
I loosen my grip but don't let go. "Scar, trust me."
"Sol—"
I stay buried deep, rolling my hips against her gently, slowly. "Scar, honey. Look at me."
Her eyes are squeezed shut—she's fighting panic. "Get off."
"Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me."
She shakes her head, but her lids part a tiny bit, enough to see a hint of her brown eyes, hazed with unshed tears. "Sol, I—"
I grab her hands and put them on my face. "It’s me, baby. Look at me. Feel me. Be here with me."
"I keep feeling…him," she whispers. "Aleja—"
I cut her off with a kiss. "He's dead, babe. You killed him. You're here with me."
"I see him. I see him."
"Eyes on mine, beautiful," I say, cupping her face. "Touch me. Tell me what you feel."
She fixes her eyes on mine, panting heavily, heels wedged against the back of her thighs. She touches my jaw. "Your stubble."
"What's it feel like?"
"Rough, but kinda soft, too."
"What else?"
Her hand moves to my shoulder, my arm. "Your skin. Your muscles."
“Keep talking, honey. Touch me. Talk to me."
She runs her hand down my back. "Your back." To my butt. "Your ass." Both hands grasp my buttocks. "I love your ass, Solomon."
I ease another slow, gentle thrust. "Feel that, sweetheart?"
She gasps, nods. "I feel it."
"Who is it?"
"You."
"Who?"
"You. Solomon."
I roll another thrust, just as slow and gentle. "Who's inside you right now, Scarlett?"
Her eyes are wide, now, still scared and filled with panic, but locked on mine, fighting, trusting. "You, Solomon. You are. You're inside me."
"You're here. You're safe. You're with me." I brace both hands beside her face and set a slow, easy rhythm. "Move with me, honey. Show me whatcha got."
Breathing heavily, still, she clutches my shoulders with biting, bruising force, whimpering in her throat with each thrust; faltering at first, she starts to meet my thrusts with her own. Then, she loosens her death grip on my shoulders.
She finally lets go and moves her hands down my back to clutch at my ass, pulling at me. "More, Sol. Harder."
"No way, honey.” I shake my head, nuzzling her cheek, her nose, her jawline. “Just…like…this."
Slow, soft, gentle—I roll each thrust into her tight wet pussy, groaning as she clutches around me, rippling tighter as she moans. She pulls at my butt with each thrust, now, Heels tucked tight against her ass cheeks, knees flung wide.
"Oh god, Sol. Sol…Sol."
"That's right, baby. Keep saying my name. I'm the one fucking you, baby. It's you and me. You gonna come for me, Scar? I wanna feel you come for me. Need you to scream my name."
“Not—not yet. I'm not there yet."
"Good, me either."
“It feels good, Sol," she whispers, cupping my ass and pulling with each of my thrusts into her sweet hot depths. "Feels good like this. You feel good."
"Just good isn't anywhere near enough," I say.
"Incredible. Fucking amazing."
"That's better."
"I wanna come, Sol."
"What do you need, honey? Tell me what you need."
"Just… just you, baby. Don't stop—I'm close."
"You want to touch yourself?"
She shakes her head. “No. Just—just you, Sol. All I want is you. Just…just don't stop."
I hold the pace, stay at the same angle. Move into her slowly, pacing myself. I'm not holding back yet, but I'm not far off either. I stare down at her, locking eyes with her. "Look at me, Scar. Stay with me. It's just you and me."
She nods, mouth falling open, expression going soft and full of wonder as a climax builds inside her. I feel it in the way her thighs shake, in the way her thrusts falter against mine, in the way she gasps, whimpers, and groans. "I'm with you, Sol."
"Come for me, beautiful. I feel you. You're right there. Give it to me. Come on my cock, Scarlett."
She grabs at the back of my neck and pulls me closer, panting raggedly in my ear. "Sol—oh god, Sol . I'm gonna come."
"Whose cock is this?" I demand, thrusting hard now. "Who's fucking you, Scar? Who's making you come?"
“You are. Solomon, oh god, oh god, Sol. You are—you're making me come. Oh fuck, don't stop. Give me that cock, Sol. Feels so fucking good when you fuck me like this."
I groan as she ripples around me, squeezing so tight I can barely move through her clamping, spasming walls. "Fuck, Scar, that's right, that's it, honey. Come for me."
" SOL !" She screams. "Oh god, oh fuck, oh godohfuckohgodohfuck!"
I hold back, then, focusing on her, thrusting slowly as she comes around my cock. God, I could come, but I'm not ready yet. I want more. I need more.
I slide my hands under her, lift her as I sit up and shift cross-legged. Her legs wrap instinctively around my waist, and she sinks onto me, groaning low in her chest as I sink so deep inside her that it aches down into my balls.
"Scarlett, god, you feel amazing. Love feeling you come around me." I cup her ass with one hand and the back of her neck with the other and bury my face in her breasts. "Say my name again, sweetheart."
"Solomon—my Sol, my sweet, strong, beautiful Solomon," she whispers, and my heart swells fit to burst hearing her speak like that.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yours. I'm yours, Scarlett. Your Solomon."
"Mine," she gasps, rising, lifting so I'm nearly out of her, and then crushing slowly down onto me. "My Sol."
"Are you mine, Scarlett?" I demand.
"Yes!" she cries. "Yes, Sol. I'm yours."
"Gonna make me come, Scar? I'm right there."
She nods, chin moving against the top of my head. "Yes, Solomon. I want it. I want you to come."
"Gotta make me, sweetheart. Make me come."
She sets the pace, then—hard thrusts, bodies meeting, her tits bouncing, ass slapping against my thighs. "Need it, Sol. Need you."
"Then take it. Take me, honey. Take all of me. Take me how you need me."
"Oh god, Sol. I need—-I need to fuck you."
"Then fuck me, honey. Fuck me as hard as you want."
Her arms wrap around my neck and she clutches my face to her chest, and she fucks me—hard. I meet her, match her, driving up into her with a steady chorus of groans and growls.
I feel it, then, a hot, heady, dizzying wave of ecstasy boiling in my balls, and then in my gut, and then in my chest, expanding, swelling.
"Scar, oh god, baby. I'm—I'm gonna come."
"Yes!" She cries. "Come with me, Sol. Come with me, baby—right now!"
She wails, then, a loud shrill breathless cry of release as her pussy spasms around me and rips my orgasm from me. I grunt, and then the grunt turns into a roar as the orgasm tears through me like wildfire. I can't see straight, can’t breathe, can only drive up into her and let loose. She's wild with her own climax, snarling in my ear and slamming down onto me.
White heat batters at my skull and washes down my spine, and then bursts out of me through my cock and into Scarlett, and I press my mouth to her breasts and groan, my throat raw and raspy as I pour into her in wave after wave of release.
The door is kicked open at that moment; my back is to the doorway.
Scarlett slaps a hand out and finds the stolen, silenced Glock; she doesn't slow in her thrusting down onto me or quiet her loud cries as she comes around me. She squeezes off three rounds— POP-POP-POP ; adjusts her aim and fires again— POP-POP! — POP-POP! — POP-POP!
I hear the thud of bodies hitting the floor; I turn to look, but she grabs my face and turns it back to her. "Don’t—stay with me, Sol. Don't stop fucking me."
Aching and pulsing with the aftershocks of my orgasm, I keep moving with her, and I feel her shuddering again. She fits her ring and middle finger to clit, hanging onto my neck with her other hand, leaning way back and riding me hard.
"Oh fuck, SOL !" She screams, shattering all over again. "Oh god, oh god, Sol!"
After a few more minutes of slowly, lazily riding me, she finally goes still. She hangs from my neck with both hands, staring into my eyes.
"Solomon—Jesus." She searches me with her eyes. “That was—"
I topple us forward, pinning her to the bed—I lose her in the process, and she whimpers, but the whimper turns into a moan as I kiss her. "That was us making love, Scarlett," I whisper.
She touches her cheek to mine, nodding. "I know," she breathes. "I'm not ready to say it, though. Or hear it."
"I know."
For a while, we just stay like that, wrapped up in each other.
Eventually, she pats my back. "We need to go."
I pull back to look down at her. "I know you're not ready to say it or hear it, but you need to know it. So, when I say ‘I’ve got you,’ just know that's what I mean. Okay?"
"As you wish," she replies, grinning up at me.
I laugh. "Best possible answer."
"I'll never admit it to anyone else, but that's my favorite movie," she says. "When I missed you really bad, I'd put that on. Made me feel connected to you."
I choke. "You did? No bullshit?"
She nods. "I did. Couple times a month, at least."
"Me too," I whisper. "I watched it all the fucking time. My brothers thought I was fucking nuts."
"Blood brothers or teammate brothers?"
"Both."
She smacks my ass. "Come on, hot stuff. Get off me so we can get out of here. We don't have time or resources to deal with all these bodies."
Within five minutes, we're both dressed and hauling our shit to the truck. We take everything, including the shell casings and all the spare mags the dead dudes were carrying. Once the truck is loaded, I jog around the side of the building and fish the cell phone out of the dead guy’s pocket.
Sixty seconds after that, we're gone.
Scarlett drives with one hand on my thigh and a not-so-secret smile on her face.
I put my hand over hers. "Got you, Scar."
She smiles brighter than ever, so bright the sun seems almost dim. “Got you too, Sol."
Bring it on, assholes. With this woman at my side, I can do fucking anything.
And she loves me.