Chapter 17
Odin
Fuck me sideways.
Or um, I guess that’s what has me so shocked.
I’m down here on my knees, staring into Willow’s pleasure flushed face.
I knew she wasn’t going to just tell me to fuck off, or thank me for the orgasm and see me out the door.
I knew there would be something more, but her bossy, blatant, sexy as hell request has me seeing stars, all while her juices are still wet on my chin after she baptized my face in her come.
I’m no longer one of those men who has a fucked up amount of pent up aggression inside of me.
I don’t know that I have much of any aggression anymore.
There’s no anger. I’ve made peace with my regrets.
I’ve learned control, clawing it back from nothing at all at first, but over the years, I’ve really toned it down.
I’m not that guy with a hair trigger, mad at the world and ready to fight anyone to prove a point that I didn’t even understand.
I’m no beast. I’m just a man, down here on his knees before a beautiful, kind woman, worshipping her because I’d love nothing more than to make her my queen.
I know the chances of that ever happening are slim to fucking none, but there’s this stupidly optimistic part of me that’s developed over the years, and it latches onto the one or two percent chance I might have.
Her asking me for more isn’t just because she wants to be fucked long and hard, using me to get off and that’s it.
There’s a depth of feeling in her eyes that underscores her words.
Her voice wavers with her emotion. This is no game.
This is her, raw and stripped down. She might not be able to say it, but right now isn’t exactly the moment.
She’s well and truly sunk deep into the bliss of pleasure that she trusted me fully to give her. She wants the same for me.
Her eyes are blown out and darkened to that deep indigo that borders on purple, but it’s not all just a swimming sea of hormones and pleasure.
She holds out her hand to me, yearning to extend this moment, wanting more, but not just for herself.
She wants to take me into her body. She wants to lose herself in me while I bury myself in her.
The two becoming one thing might be a little bit old fashioned, but fuck if it doesn’t hit me square in the chest. It’s not just my body that shivers.
I feel myself tremble straight down to my ribcage as my muscles all clench up around my heart.
It’s that hammering organ that squeezes tightest of all.
I stand up quickly, band my arms around her, and carefully hike her up off the floor. Her legs wrap around my waist. She gasps, but she quickly smothers the sound, trapping it between our lips as she kisses me hungrily.
She feeds me more than just her little gasps of pleasure. She gives me her breath, her trust, her hope. She’s divine. She’s delicious. So heady that I almost lose my balance. She’s an emotion so enormous, I can’t put a name on it.
There’s no way I’m going to fuck her up against this wall like an animal.
I take a few steps, meaning to get to the bedroom, if I can even remember where that is at this point, when my brain is pretty much blacked out to anything and everything but the way she tastes, how divine her body is pressed up against mine with her breasts crushed against my chest so I can feel her beaded nipples through her bra and all the fabric, and her bare legs locked around me, radiating heat.
I tore her panties off, her dress is rucked up between us, and her swollen pussy is pressed right up against the hard steel ridge of my cock trapped behind my jeans.
Every step is harder than the last. It’s not that I think I’m going to drop her. I just… spot the table out of the corner of my eye. It’s been cleared away. It’s solid oak, the round surface more than stable enough. She’d be at the perfect height.
I wish I had the control to wait one more second to be inside of her, but she squirms once against me like she’s never needed anything more in her life, and I veer off course, carrying her directly to that table.
I sit her ass down on it, but she doesn’t release me. She kisses me furiously, unwilling to leave even an inch between us. Our lips mash together. Our teeth nearly crash. Her hands rake over my shoulders, trying to push my jacket off.
How the hell did I live so many years without this woman in my life?
Right. Because she was in my son’s.
She was. It’s a fact. It’s also a fact that she crashed into my world, into my life, into Hart, and into my heart. Our meeting was crazy. Maybe it was never supposed to be this destiny moment. I’m not claiming anything before this, but I know that I am beyond blessed to be here right now.
I am completely in her hands.
I’m a simple man who uses simple words and tries to do my best to understand myself and the world.
Many things are beyond my understanding, but I know that, beyond a doubt, I am so damn thankful for whatever force brought us to this moment, even if it was just our decisions and that of others.
I want to please her. Cherish her. Give her pleasure, security, and happiness. Most of all, I want to move her heart.
She’s not just my past few weeks. She’s my future. Our baby is our future.
“Odin,” she breathes, arching up to shove my leather jacket off my shoulders, trapping both my arms at my sides.
Her eyes rake over my abs and my pecs, so heated that my pulse doubles its efforts to tear through my neck.
When her gaze flutters up to my face, though, it doesn’t look like she wants to devour me or be devoured.
She guides me down to her, my arms still trapped and useless, kissing me gently, but with just as much passion.
Just her saying my name erases the last few doubts I might have had about being on a collision course with disaster.
Just like she did that day on the mountain, in the woods, she cups my face, stares me in the eye, and looks straight down into my soul. She unspools me. “Lay me bare.” Three simple words.
She’s not talking about stripping our bodies down.
My heart is already bared to her. It has been since the second day we met.
She reaches down and slowly peels her dress up.
I wait, my breath near to exploding in my lungs, letting her take her time.
I need it to gather my composure and lock it in place.
I’m not worried about closing myself off to her.
She can have all of me, every little bit.
I’m not afraid to expose all those soft points.
I trust her. If they end up wounded and torn, bleeding and beyond repair, then I’ll start the slow, arduous process of healing.
Not giving them at all would be a travesty that would cause me more pain than taking the biggest risk of all.
She already has her legs splayed around my hips, but she lets them fall open a little bit more as she pulls the last of the fabric up to pool at her waist. I force myself to work my way up from her bare feet, over her legs that are sleek with muscle, up to where she’s glistening and swollen from all the pleasure I just gave her.
Me. It makes my head spin.
Her breasts rise and fall in the dress with every heaving breath. She watches me silently, missing nothing. Her lips part, her tongue peeking out before she swipes it along her kiss swollen lower one to wet it.
She doesn’t say anything, but she does arch up and take my hands. She draws me close, kissing my forehead tenderly before trailing her mouth to mine. She devours me, a starved invitation and a command. She chases away the last of my fears, my worries, my hesitation.
I want out of my head and inside her. Except… not in the crass way that sounds. I want inside every bit of her. Head. Chest. Heart and soul.
She tugs a hand free while she’s kissing me and twines it between us.
Her palm cups my hard cock through my jeans.
It throbs in her palm, aching so badly that I have to break the kiss and grind my teeth together to keep from making some horrible, untoward noise that would no doubt make her worry that I’m having a heart attack.
I could be. My body is in a fuckton of disarray. The only time I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want her was the last time I was with her.
She lets go of me and gasps, shoulders arching off the table as her fingers stroke down her slit, pleasuring herself. I glance down, and seeing her fingers, slick and wet from playing at her entrance, go dancing over her clit, is just about my undoing.
I whip open my belt, unzip my fly, and shove my jeans and boxers down just enough that I can fist the base of my cock.
I’m probably as soaked as Willow’s panties were when I tore them from her body.
precum beads immediately. I gather up the glistening beads and bring my fingers to Willow’s entrance.
She wraps her hand around my wrist, holding me there lightly as I play with her, dipping two fingers in shallowly, teasing her and torturing myself.
She’s a beautiful woman. There’s not a bit of her that I don’t find tantalizing, and having a front row seat to her pussy with the taste of her still on my tongue, pleasuring her on top of the damn kitchen table, is a sight that’s going to remain etched in my brain forever.
Just as I brought my wetness to her, I swirl all my fingers through her slick heat and then wrap them around my cockhead, massaging her wetness into me.
I’m already slick, my cock weeping into my fist, but I want her to be able to watch what I’m doing.
She does, her eyes never leaving me, soaking up every single movement with undivided concentration and utter reverence.
Her head thuds back down on the table and her eyes close when I step into the circle of her legs. She tucks them around my hips, lifting hers, so that our bodies align perfectly.