Chapter 16 #2
It sounds so silly now. I was sitting up in bed, reading a book on animal psychology.
It was late and the apartment was quiet.
Even when the tattoo studio is full below me, the building is well insulated and must have thick floors and walls.
I hardly ever hear anything other than the faint thumping of the basslines from the music, and never late into the night.
It was quiet and then suddenly, not so much.
I heard a rustle like a paper bag scrunching.
I froze and it came again, and then stopped for a minute.
Out of nowhere, a massive brown mouse came careening right into the bedroom.
It leapt, scrambled up the bedframe and got right into bed with me.
I love animals, but I prefer those kind of animals to stay outside. I screamed and grabbed the blankets, flinging it onto the floor. It took off out of the room, and I immediately texted Odin.
I peer into the bag and see he’s brought the catch and release type traps. If I wasn’t already falling for this big, kind man then a gesture like this would have turned me to mush.
Out of the other bag, he produces a rotisserie chicken and a head of lettuce. “Was it presumptuous of me to assume you could do something with this befitting a delicious dinner?”
The smell of those chickens is basically like catnip. I could be sick as hell and would still find my mouth watering. “I can think of a hundred different things to make. Come on up and we’ll figure it out.”
He follows me up the stairs, his heavy boots ringing on the metal steps.
He stands there, his grin stretching from ear to ear.
I take the bag from him and say, “Thank you for coming. Thanks for taking the time to show me all these things that my dad never got to show me. I could have learned them online or asked someone else, but I didn’t even really know it was knowledge I was missing. ”
He strokes his beard, a little bit awkward now, but he’s adorable when he’s shy. Compliment the man and he grows more and more flustered. “It’s an honor.”
“I think that- that it might not be the only thing I didn’t know was missing.” I should wait. Make dinner. Let the man come in, but here I go, still blabbing away, just because I’ve had too much time to think and it’s all coming out.
“What do you mean?”
“I think about that afternoon. More than I should. I’ve tried to tell myself to stop.”
“There’s nothing wrong with keeping a memory.”
That’s not what I’m trying to tell him. I need to be clear.
He deserves to know. “If it was only a memory, maybe that would be true, but it’s…
. not. We talked through this once. I wanted you then.
That hasn’t changed. Even if it was only supposed to be for a night.
Our lives were supposed to be separate, but that didn’t work out, and now I’m here, and I haven’t stopped thinking about you once.
It’s not some silly crush. It’s not an experiment or a daddy kink.
You’re no rebound. If I asked you to kiss me, what would you do? Would that ruin everything?”
I can’t breathe. I’ve just asked the worst question, in the worst way possible. There’s no undoing it. No button where I can just pause and brain scrub.
Odin is so beautiful. His insides match his outsides. I might be freaking out, but I know that I can trust him. I know that he’ll never hurt me.
My heart speeds up, pounding in my throat. I can’t believe I said all of that, but only because it’s a minor miracle that I got the words out when I can barely gasp for air or process a single thought. It’s impossible when Odin’s looking at me like this.
Confused and heated. All his emotion in his eyes. No doubt. No anger. No real surprise. Just a deep honesty that I feel down to the marrow of my own bones. His truth. Mine. Are they the same?
His gaze drops to my mouth and remains there.
The bag drops from my hands and I step forward straight into his space, cupping his face. I tug, trying to pull him off balance, to trap myself between him and the wall so I have something to brace with when my whole world shifts.
He doesn’t budge. This isn’t going to be haphazard.
It’s not an accident. There’s no rushing.
Just his face so close to mine that we can breathe the same air, his lips hovering a few inches away.
He doesn’t take a step until he’s good and ready and then he moves with me.
Mine back, and his forward. He wraps an arm around my back and brackets my head with the other.
When I meet the wall, it’s all him. I’m not trapped. I’m perfectly balanced.
My hands are both free. I fist one in the collar of his jacket and the other in his t-shirt.
As I thought, the cotton is buttery soft under my fingertips.
I press my hand firmly against his chest the way I imagined I would if I was behind him.
I let all his warmth soak into me. I inhale that now familiar scent, the one I pegged exactly as I stood on the metal stairs outside and watched him drive up.
“Odin…”
“Is that an Odin, please kiss me, or an Odin, you should probably go before we do something that we’ll regret?”
“I won’t regret you. I don’t. Like I said before. The world can fuck right off with its preconceived notions and—”
His mouth meets mine, just like the first time.
Gentle. Searching. His beard tickling my chin.
When I respond, parting my lips and tugging him closer by his shirt, he devours me, groaning against my mouth as his devours mine.
Just like the first time, that kiss is starving.
Not just Odin. Me too. His tongue glides along my lower lip and I open for him.
This.
This is why I’m alive. This is where I’m meant to be. This is the man I’m meant to be with.
All my nerve endings fire on high alert. My body comes alive, aching for him. Needing him.
I reach for his hand and tangle his fingers in mine. His right stays trapped behind my head, keeping me perfectly protected as his lips drive me back and I surge forward, a perfect battle of wills that isn’t a battle at all. It’s a give and take born of sheer hunger.
I’m worried for a second that I’m hurting him. He’s still healing. I know that he’d say something if it was anything more than a twinge. He’d switch the position.
I guide his hand down, over my breasts, over my flat stomach, to the apex of my thighs. I curl his fingers in against me there, at the junction of my thigh and over my soaked panties. My dress is probably wet, and hot. So hot because I’m a pillar of fire.
I squirm against his hand and mine. I try to scrunch my dress up, balling it into my fist, trying to lift the fabric out of the way so I can feel his rough, callused palm against my skin again. The weeks I’ve spent longing to relive that exact sensation feel like lifetimes.
There is nothing wrong about his touch. About the heart beating in his chest that I long to map and trace.
We’re here. I’m scared. He’s still the most beautiful experience, heart, soul, mind, and person I have ever known.
I feel something with him that I’ve never felt with anyone.
Beneath the desire. The thrill. The fear.
The joy. The transcendence and the agony of coming back down to earth.
He makes me feel at peace. Like all I have to do is take a breath and everything will be okay.
I guide his fingers straight to my soaked panties.
I try to hold my dress and pull the wet, clinging fabric aside, but Odin tears his lips from mine and slowly drops to his knees.
It’s the most dramatic fall. His mouth grazes my chin, my collarbones, my stomach before both hands push up the fabric of my dress.
One large palm wraps around my hip, his fingers digging in lightly against my ass.
The other smooths over my panties, fingers brushing against my seam over my underwear, and grazing my clit.
My hips writhe against the wall and buck straight into his face. He rests his forehead against my belly, bowing his head like he’s waiting to receive a benediction.
I keep my dress pulled up with one hand and dig the other into his soft hair. The silver strands catch the late evening sunlight, always so strong and bright as it descends down the autumn skies.
“I didn’t get to do this last time. I wanted to. I should have. I should have made it special for you.”
“Don’t you dare.” I tug on his hair to tilt his gaze up to me.
“Don’t you dare say that. What we did was more than special.
I’ve kept it with me, locked inside of me, afraid to go over and over the details, afraid to want more.
I have treasured it. I will always cherish those memories.
But, if you want to do this now, then I’d…
I’d really like you to do what you want to do to me. ”
“Tell me.” It’s more a plea than a command, always so careful about my feelings and my consent. This isn’t a man who takes, not for a second.
“Odin. I want you to eat my pussy. Right the fuck now.”
He’s already wearing the expression of a man in pain, but his face twists into a grimace. It’s so hot, him looking at me like I just slayed him and freed him.
He hooks his fingers through the thin elastic waistband of my cotton thong and tugs.
They’re not substantial and when they tear away from my body it doesn’t even hurt.
He does the hot guy thing and stuffs them into the pocket of his leather jacket.
After, his hand trails up my knee, to my thigh, and then to the crease of my leg.
My head thuds against the wall and my hand splays out against it when his fingers trail over me.
He parts me and glides his index finger over my crease, gathering all the slick arousal.
I shudder at his touch, shivers of pleasure racing out from beneath his fingertips.
I wrench my hand from the wall and fling it onto his shoulder.
Curling my fingers into his leather jacket, I hold onto him while I grind my shoulders into the wall so that I can keep standing.
My legs are already shaking and weak. I need him to hold me up.
He doubles down on that by bringing two fingers to my entrance and teasing me before he pushes them inside.
My breath rushes out in a great long sigh as he fills me.
He’s not content to just touch me. He has to taste as well.
His mouth, so deliciously hot, closes over my clit.
He sucks it hard before licking a path all the way to his fingers.
He’s not quiet. The noise of him feasting on me seems to echo in the room with us.
He sets a rhythm that has my legs so wobbly that I really have to work on perfecting my balance, or risk falling over.
He licks me, laps at me, sucks me, until I’m certain that I’m completely swollen, and I know for a fact that I’m soaked because I can hear the evidence of it every time he glides his tongue over me, driving me nearly delirious, beard tickling my inner thighs and all my sensitive places.
He thrusts his fingers in and out of me at the same time as he licks me.
Just thinking about my arousal all over his face, dripping into his beard, has me even more soaked.
I bite down on my lip to keep from making obscene sounds. A few little moans and whimpers are fine, but if I really wanted to let loose, they’d probably hear me downstairs.
Odin is good at this. Too good. He knows exactly when to stop and move away from my clit to keep me from coming too soon. He tortures me just right by crooking his fingers when he fills me completely.
I want to come on his tongue and all over his face, but I’m too embarrassed to just say so.
I don’t want to demand it. I want him to give it to me.
My hips are wild, rocking between him and the wall with every delicious thrust of his fingers.
The pleasure building gets more and more intense, but it doesn’t burst. There’s no peak yet.
It could be there if he wanted it to be.
All it would take is him not moving off my clit, and I’m sure he knows that.
I want to howl in frustration, so I keep chewing at my lip and grinding my teeth together when that gets too painful.
I try to take what he’s not in any hurry to give, grinding my hips into his hand and bearing down on his fingers so he hits all the right spots.
I try to guide him by his hair, curling my fingers in almost viciously, but still, it’s not enough.
He leaves my clit again and I nearly growl in frustration, but then I tilt my head down and I can see him lick around his fingers.
I can feel it too, and that double sensation makes my head spin.
This time, when he goes back to my clit, he does things with his tongue that he didn’t do before.
His fingers saw in and out of me until the whole room pitches around and darkness closes in for me.
I can’t watch him anymore.
I can’t breathe.
I can barely stand up.
He’s been down there for just a few minutes, though the sweet torture seems to have lasted forever.
All this time, the pleasure was building, and when it finally detonates, I’m hurtled straight into a wall of pleasure that slams into me with the force of a hurricane.
It’s like being just fine and then the next second, getting hit by that massive wind gust that turns you right around and tosses you onto the floor, then picks you up and hurtles you through the air.
I can’t get a grasp on reality. All I can do is pant and shake.
I pretty much collapse right on top of him, my body peeling off the wall like I was stuck there and the glue had all let go.
It rocks me forward, onto his tongue and further onto his fingers, even though I catch myself on his shoulders.
I can’t stop heaving for air. There’s only him and clinging to him while the world goes on spinning around us.
I want to pant out something silly about not knowing that orgasms could defy gravity, but good luck with that.
There’s no way that I have enough oxygen to give my brain the ability to form language, let alone push it out.
The breaths I can heave in are for my lungs only, so they can get back on track.
The first words out aren’t anything scientific, or funny. It’s not even a thank you. “More. Another. Fuck me up against this wall, Odin. I want you inside of me. I want you to come so hard that you’ll forget everything else exists, just for this moment.”
Well, I suppose that it depends on how you term gravity, because I think that we’ve definitely surpassed every scientific expectation and explanation that I’ve ever had.