Chapter 5 Aerin #2
As I’m running my fingers through my hair, a growing bruise on my wrist catches my attention.
It’s from Falco.
In those few terrifying seconds, the sight of him throwing himself forward to catch me was incredible. Somehow, he caught me.
He held onto me like I was the most precious thing in the world and it’s the most important anyone has ever made me feel.
Over and over he spoke to me, making me feel safe even as he pulled me to safety.
It’s hard to match that Falco with the one standing in the bathroom doorway like he’s made of stone.
As water runs down my face and neck, I run my fingertips over the bruise.
His hands were rough, expected of a retired soldier, but his grip was warm and firm.
Is it the alcohol?
Maybe it’s the bratty part of me that tried to kiss him just to force a reaction out of him, but my mind takes that tangent and runs with it.
What would those hands feel like elsewhere on my body?
A man as tough and old as him surely knows his way around a woman’s body.
He has to know all the best ways to fuck someone, how to make them feel utterly amazing and put them back together after taking them apart.
He must be single.
Everyone working for my father is denied outside commitments of any kind. In his eyes, it enforces their loyalty.
He’s definitely single.
Which means my kiss has to be his first kiss in years.
The more I think about his rough hands roaming my body, the hotter I become.
I picture him standing in front of me and running those hands all over me, checking my bruises and scrapes and kissing each one until my skin tingles from the rough scrape of his beard.
Falco would be my first.
He’s old enough that he would know how to take his time, how to blow my mind.
If his cock is anything like the rest of his build, then I bet I wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks.
It starts as an attempt to soothe the growing ache between my legs and force Falco to leave the bathroom.
After all, there’s no way he’d stay there knowing I’m masturbating right behind him.
That surely breaks so many of my father’s rules.
My fingers slide down my wet stomach and slide between my legs to my damp pussy where slick mingles with the water cascading down over me.
I whimper softly, easing my fingers between my outer lips and stroking over my inner folds while rubbing the heel of my hand down against my clit.
Another whimper escapes me and it melts into a moan as pleasure, distant and warm, begins to pool in my lower belly.
By the time my legs give way and I sag back against the tiles, propped up on the edge of the bath, my heart’s racing and the pleasure building between my legs is growing.
I don’t hold back on my sounds either, especially when my fingers slide inside myself like they’ve done countless times in the past.
Droplets of water roll over my hard nipples, teasing them with contact, and every touch of water from the shower is a caress from Falco in my mind.
Delving my fingers deeper, I try to picture what it would be like to feel his cock inside me instead. It’s bound to be thicker than my fingers.
Longer too.
Chasing that fantasy only gets me so far.
Something isn’t quite right.
It could be the shower or the unfamiliar room, or the fact that tonight has been a complete mess and now I’m fingering myself to try and assert dominance over my sexy bodyguard who won’t even look at me like I’m a person.
It’s not enough.
My fingers aren’t enough.
My hand isn’t enough.
Frustration begins to replace desire in my chest and the budding pleasure in my gut is seconds away from fading.
It’s taking too long.
Then, suddenly, the shower water fades from my skin and a subtle chill steals across my chest.
Opening my eyes, I’m face to face with Falco.
His hair is drenched in seconds and becomes like jet-black ink clinging to the sides of his face.
What light is left in the bathroom settles in the golden pools of his eyes and the silver streaks in his stubble seem to melt away as he gets completely drenched.
In seconds, his shirt is clinging to his body like a second skin and I glimpse every sexy, sculpted inch of his torso.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Falco says in a low voice. “Let me help.”
I’m frozen, my breath caught at the back of my tongue like his words have wrapped around my throat to gently hold me in place.
Blinking up at him through a few droplets still clinging to my lashes, I nod slowly.
“Like you could do any better,” I croak.
His warm hand cups the back of mine between my legs, then he coaxes my fingers out of myself.
I keep one hand braced against the edge of the bath to hold myself up and continue to stare directly into his eyes as he finally touches me.
Thick, rough fingertips slide over my clit and my hips jolt upward. He strokes down to my entrance and I gasp, lifting my chin but still unable to look away from his constant gaze.
Eye to eye, he holds me in place with just that look as he slips a single finger inside me.
“Oh!” Pleasure surges through me like his touch has ignited a fire in my veins.
My core clenches and my head tips back so I’m looking at him through my lashes.
He slides that finger deep inside me once, then twice.
Gentle, slow strokes that send my heart racing faster and faster.
I can barely breathe.
Just as I part my lips to taunt him again, Falco curls his finger and touches something inside me that makes me lose all control.
Heat surges through my body, my cheeks flush hot and rosy, and my core clenches as that explosion of sudden pleasure inside me drags me over the crest of my orgasm.
I come with a cry and latch onto his shoulder with my hand, struggling to keep myself supported while pleasure quakes through me from head to toe.
Falco doesn’t look away.
He keeps his finger inside me, massaging that intensely pleasurable spot in circles until my eyes roll back in my head and I give myself over to the pleasure.
Holy. Shit.
Sleep comes swiftly after Falco tucks me up into the single bed.
I can’t find the words to say anything to him and I’m fast asleep before I can even finish my thoughts about what happened in the bathroom.
Was it a dream?
There’s no way that really happened, right?
Doubt swirls around my chest as I open my eyes the next morning and gaze through the open door to Falco as he sits at the kitchen table drinking from a steaming mug.
My head throbs with each beat of my heart, so I close my eyes and try to gather my thoughts.
I picture Falco’s face being right up at mine, every detail from the swirls of gold and brown in his eyes to the subtle deepening of his laughter lines.
It had to be a dream.
Falco’s made it clear that he can’t stand me, that I’m just part of his job, so there’s no way that could have actually happened.
When I slide my fingers between my tights, the memory of his rough, careful fingers comes back to me like a slap, and my eyes snap open.
It was real.
It actually happened.
After mulling over the sheer insanity of the night before, I slowly get out of bed and dress in the jogging pants and hoodie Falco left at the foot of the bed.
They smell like him, although slightly musty. Presumably, they were stuffed at the bottom of that bag he carries.
After attempting to tame the wild way my hair dried during the night, I walk into the kitchen where Falco doesn’t even react to my presence.
“Morning.”
Silence.
Uncertainty warms in my gut.
I have no idea how to talk to him now.
Before, it was easy being angry at him because I’m angry at most people when I’m not pretending to be the perfect daughter. But now?
He holds the cup with one hand and my cheeks warm slightly at the memory of his fingers being inside me.
Stepping forward, I suck in a deep breath when he suddenly speaks.
“There’s coffee in the pot.” His tone remains as abrupt as ever.
“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t we talk?”
Falco doesn’t look up from the electronic tablet flat on the table in front of him. “About?”
“What do you mean about? About…what happened yesterday. What you did.”
He sips his coffee. “I saved your life. I did my job.”
“Not that!”
“Then what?” He finally looks up at me, but the face in my memory from last night might as well have been a dream. He’s as stoic as ever.
“I’m talking about what you did to me in the shower! When I was…” I can’t even say the word and my cheeks heat up.
“You were struggling, I helped you out. That’s all there is to say.”
“That’s it?”
Falco returns to his tablet. “You can cook your own breakfast.”
Anger ignites in my heart.
Asshole!