Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
G enesis…
I turned around, and Chainsaw was just there, laughing, his hands on my hips, drawing me close.
“There you are,” he murmured, his lips descending toward mine.
I kissed him back, but it felt strange, wrong somehow, and I couldn’t be sure why.
His hands slid around my nude body, and I couldn’t remember how we’d gotten that way. Weren’t we just wearing pajamas?
His beard was softer than it looked, his lips even softer, his tongue flicking out to taste my lips, which parted gladly to let him in.
His kiss was deep, and it was as though he was drinking me down in greedy draughts. His hands tightened on my hips, calloused fingers digging to the point of pain, but I liked it. I wanted this from him, and yet it still felt wrong somehow.
We fell, both of us, intertwined, my back hitting the softness of the bed, his weight pressing me flat to the mattress behind me, his knee finding its way between mine, nudging them apart.
I felt hot, wet, slick with desire, and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me.
It crawled up my throat, entered my mouth, and teased along his tongue.
He devoured it whole. My arms went around him, pulling his muscular body tightly to mine, and he settled between my thighs and pulled at my hips.
When he thrust inside me, I couldn’t help but tear my mouth from his and gasp as he filled me.
I opened my eyes and froze at the cruel, cruel smirk on Luke Belmar’s face and gasped.
The dream shredded, light flickered, and I sat up, panting to the warm, concerned tone of Chainsaw’s voice saying, “Easy, baby, you’re okay. You were dreaming. It was just a dream. You’re all good.”
I stared at him, chest rising and falling, though it felt like I wasn’t getting or couldn’t get enough air.
His eyes were kind, his hand around mine firm, but gentle, as the other smoothed the hair from my face with a tenderness and care I didn’t think I’d ever known. Something in me broke.
I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders. Before I could even question if it was a good idea, if it was right or not, I let my lips crash into his and kissed him with everything I was worth.
Please be real, please be real, please be real, I begged silently in my head, even as his hands went to my ribs, smoothing over the satin of my pajama top, warming me through it.
He pulled me into his lap and kissed me back like he’d been waiting for this from the moment he’d first seen me all those years ago from his hospital bed.
I practically climbed him, wrapping my arms tight around him, my legs around his hips, and he held me close.
He tasted vaguely of cigarettes and the wine we’d drunk with dinner, but I couldn’t recall if he’d smoked at all today… Perhaps in the club’s chapel when I hadn’t been present, but I didn’t care.
I could taste him. This was real, and I needed real right now.
“Off, ” he ordered against my mouth, and his hands tugged at the hem of my top. I held myself against him, locking my legs at his back, and raised my arms up over my head so that he could take it from me.
He swept the light fabric off over my head and discarded it somewhere on the floor beside us.
I returned my arms around his broad shoulders and pulled myself to him, rocking my hips against him and the hot, hot, bulge through the front of his shorts.
His calloused hands ran all over my back, against my ribs, one hand palming and squeezing one of my breasts in a way that tore a moan from my throat that spilled from my mouth to his.
He rolled the sound between our tongues and made a satisfied sound in return that dropped into a possessive growl that thrilled me down to my toes.
He stood up with a grunt, turning us, and dropped into a bow that dropped me to the bed. My pussy ached through the satin shorts, and I let my legs fall open to free him. He stayed leaned over me and shoved his shorts down and off him.
I let my hands spill down the ridges and planes of his body, wrapping my fingers around the velvet steel of him, even as his hands went to my hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my satin shorts and the waistband of the panties beneath them.
I lifted my hips and he dragged both garments down my legs and off, one hand tossing them aside to the ruin of the rest of our clothes on the bedroom carpet, the other cupping my pussy against his palm, fingers slicking through my wetness and plunging inside of me, even as he pressed the heal of his hand to that sensitive place at the top of my sex.
He worked me, back and forth, fingers plunging in and out, as I jerked him in my hand with an equally pressing amount of need.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against my mouth, tearing his from mine to suck in a ragged breath through his clenched teeth.
“Yeah, like that, just like that,” he praised, and my hips rocked unbidden, begging for more of his touch, even as he pulled his fingers from inside me to taste them, shoving them into his mouth, sucking them clean as he made very real, and very intentional eye contact with me.
I could barely breathe from the eroticism of it all, but I didn’t care. I just wanted and needed him to touch me.
I took my hand from his cock and lay back, arms up, beseeching him to lie with me, begging silently with my eyes and the writhing of my body for him to fill me, to press me into the sheets beneath me.
He didn’t disappoint. He came to me, pressing over me, one of his big hands guiding his cock to my entrance.
He looked down between us and watched himself go in, hissing at the tightness around him even as I cried out from the way his girth pressed out against my walls.
He slid into me slowly, carefully, and I panted, staring down between us as his impossible length kept sliding in, further and further.
I began to realize just how impossibly large he was in comparison to the few previous partners I’d had.
I pressed myself onto him, even as everything in my head wanted me to pull away, but fear would not win. I would not be deterred. I needed this. I needed him inside me to chase back the feel of the nightmare in my head.
He delved his arms beneath me and thrust gently, working himself in further with every move, making these delicious short little strokes that both stimulated me and allowed him to gain further purchase within my body. I couldn’t get enough.
I arched beneath him, pressing my body into his, pulling his ass with both my hands and ostensibly pulling his body deeper into mine, tighter against mine, until I couldn’t tell where he left off and I began. God, did I like it.
I lay back and let him press into me, my body making micro adjustments the longer we lay together, until I fit him like a glove.
I touched the scars on his chest in the flickering blue light through the bedroom window, even as rain lashed at the window pane, closing my eyes, and letting my fingertips memorize every crease, every dimple, and every man-made imperfection in his skin, tracing the roadmap of violence and hard living, wishing I could heal them completely.
I kissed the mark, wishing that the touch of my lips against the ruined flesh could make it whole and smooth again – but that wasn’t how life worked.
“Fuck,” he uttered through gritted teeth as I showered every inch of him that I could reach with butterfly kisses. Light touches of my lips that were only the barest bit heavier than the touch of my breath.
He reared up from me, grabbing a pillow from over my head, urging me to arch, and stuffing it behind my lower back. It allowed him to keep going inside of me, moving in those beautiful short thrusts that caused waves of pleasure to mount within me while staying upright to look down at me.
He pressed his thumb against my clit and stared down at me, a silent command in his eyes that I should come before him, that he wasn’t going to stop until I was a shattered mess beneath him, and oh, how I wanted that…
Oh, how I needed it, needed him to show me the way and trust that if I fell to pieces, he would pick them up and put me back together.
I gasped and sighed, closing my eyes and raising my arms above my head, stretching, moaning, begging silently for him to bring me, to touch me and keep on touching me until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from my body.
“That’s it,” he urged. “That’s a good girl.
You got it, you’ve got it, that’s it, a little more, a little more…
” his intense urging drew me like a puppet on a string to an unearthly height, and with a final swipe of his thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves, his cock working that wonderful place inside me, those strings he held me aloft with were cut and I was suddenly falling, falling, falling, tumbling through the air, through storm clouds and wind as soft as gossamer, the kiss of a butterfly’s wings against my skin, brushing along those most sensitive places from the inside out.
I couldn’t help but cry out, my body drawn tight as a bowstring, my consciousness an arrow he fired into the heavens, arcing like quicksilver through the sky, hurtling back down to earth to spear him through the back as he shoved hard, and harder into me, the blunt tip piercing my breast, through the bed and burying deep into the floor beneath…
his own orgasm filling me, and anchoring us both back down to the ground.