Chapter 37 Kitty
THIRTY-SEVEN
KITTY
I knew I should be freaking out.
We hadn’t used a rubber.
I had no idea if he was clean.
I’d squirted without any help from a vibrator.
My sisters had probably heard the sex show after that argument we’d had.
But…
I didn’t have it in me to give a shit about inopportune timing.
Not when that orgasm made me believe in the fucking divine.
Not when we were both so very alive.
Not when he carefully laid me down on the bed.
And not when he gently tended to me, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a small, wet towel that he swiped over my forehead, then pressed between my legs.
For such a large man, his actions were infinitely tender, and I didn’t mind being treated like a fragile piece of glass because I was sensitive and he made it clear that I was his to care for.
I also noticed he liked that he’d filled me full of his cum.
I liked it too.
I wanted more.
Of him.
Of that.
Of us.
God, my sanity had clearly left the building when he’d sent me through the stratosphere with that orgasm.
“àncilu?” he prompted after my silence extended for far longer than I’d ever been in his presence. Hell, I knew I talked in my sleep so I’d probably had a conversation with him on the damn plane.
Not that that was embarrassing. At. All.
I blinked at him in answer.
“I’m clean.”
That should have come as a relief to me, but I didn’t particularly care.
Well, okay, I did. The nurse in me was grateful I didn’t have chlamydia.
But… yeah. It didn’t matter. Not when I could feel him.
Wet. Warm. Deep inside. The nurse knew I made that up, but the woman, the freakin’ cavewoman, just savored his presence.
What it might mean.
What I wanted it to mean—
“I run health checks on myself every month. You know, so I don’t screw up my findings.” That was the opposite of reassuring. “And I don’t, haven’t, you… I haven’t slept with anyone for a very long time.”
Back to blinking at him, I rasped, “Stan?”
Hand gently making circles on my stomach, the very opposite of soothing because I was pretty sure what he’d given me was a breeding kink—was that contagious?—he paused. “Yes, duci?”
“Do you want to see me again?”
I’d have bitten my tongue off before I asked Brad that. But Stan…
His fingers stilled. “We discussed this.”
Damn straight we had. “Do you want to see me again?” I repeated.
“Naturalmenti.”
Naturally.
It was his resolute scowl that sealed my confidence and his fate.
“If you ever test drugs on yourself, even just one time, you’ll never see me again. Do you understand?”
It was like a fever overtook him.
At first, I thought I’d angered him. That I’d annoyed him with my ultimatum.
But if anything, it swept him away. If words could send a man of his size adrift.
Those circling digits of his made another adjustment. Lower this time. Drifting down, down, down.
I hissed when he grazed my clit, then my eyes fluttered when he pumped a finger into me. My own arousal and his cum had me squirming and rolling my hips like he hadn’t just fucked me through the wall.
“Are you on the pill, gattaredda?”
Breathing heavily, I nodded.
“Stop taking it.”
My eyes popped open. “You’re crazy.”
Oh, god.
So was I!
My fingers clasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin as the strangest need to be bound to him filled me.
A baby would do that.
Forever.
“You make me crazy.” He loomed over me, his fingers still petting my cum-soaked folds, the butt of his wrist giving me a thuddy kind of pressure against my clit. “Do I make you crazy, àncilu?”
At that moment, he kept me grounded before I flew away on a cloud of hormones.
“You know you do or I’d have told you to use a condom.”
Triumph flashed across his features. Wild and glorious and alive.
But something niggled. It spiraled into the desire he was forcing me to feel, worming holes into my pleasure.
“You never answered,” I bit off around a moan as I edged ever closer to another impossible orgasm. Hell, I hadn’t known orgasms could feel that intense. Not back-to-back. Not with a third one waiting in the wings. “How can I stop taking it when you’re—”
“I can’t change my job, bedda mia,” he interrupted, his tone regretful but also assertive.
“If you’d let me finish, you’d know that wasn’t where my mind went.”
“Apologies, apologies—”
“Prayers, prayers. You’ll need them if you keep butting in,” I drawled.
The amusement that creased his expression had me releasing a heavy sigh.
He wasn’t pretty. Not really. He was too much of a bruiser for that. But fuck if I didn’t want to sit on his face for the rest of my life.
“How could I ever think about being serious with you if you’re not?”
“What do you mean?”
“The pills…”
“Red?”
“No! Dammit. Fuck Red. I’m talking about your one-man chemistry show. You didn’t agree—”
“Oh.” He conceded with a grim sigh. “I see.”
My nails dug into his wrist again. “I won’t take the pill tomorrow morning if you promise you won’t be a guinea pig anymore.”
His nostrils flared as his gaze dropped to my slit. I didn’t think anyone had ever given my vagina that much attention before. Not outside of a gynecological exam, at any rate.
Damn if it wasn’t preening—I could literally feel his cum sliding from it in a show intended for one patron.
Then, he made things a thousand times hotter by crooning, “For you, I promise.”
The relief I felt told me I was mad, but at least this madness was mutual.
Tears pricked my eyes—that was how deep the relief sank. The shadow of fear for a man who’d experimented on himself drifted into the ether as I trusted in his vow.
In Stan.
Why did it feel as if I’d known him a lifetime? Or, even stranger, as if I’d been waiting one for him?
The bone-deep gratitude that he’d stop being a dumbass made me warble: “T-Thank you.”
He pressed a kiss to my nose. “Anything for you.”
And I knew he meant it.
As unideal as this whole thing might seem, mostly it was perfect.
Sure, consummating us would have been nicer in Martinez’s home, where I’d slept on silk sheets and expensive scents had perfumed the air. To be fair, a motel room was preferable to this dump. But he, me, us was what I needed.
I licked my lips as he stopped teasing my clit and, instead, settled beside me. I didn’t regret it, mostly because I thought I’d have a heart attack if he put me through that again without anymore resistance training—he needed his own warning label.
Turning, I settled my hand on his chest. “Stan?”
“Yes, bedda mia.”
“Why did you do that? Experiment on yourself, I mean.”
He was quiet for so long that I didn’t think he’d answer. Then, he uttered hoarsely, “Atonement.”
I let the word settle inside me. Pulled it apart. Let the various connotations expand and contract… “Even if it wasn’t rational?”
“Even if.”
Silence fell between us, but he didn’t push distance, real or otherwise, into that space. We just lay there. Heart rates returning to normal, lungs calming.
“Stan, do you think…”
“What, duci?”
“We could go home tomorrow?”
His head tilted to the side. “Not Vegas?”
“This whole thing led me to you, so I don’t regret that, but… I dunno. I don’t have good vibes. I’d like to get home. New York’s not exactly safe. It’s home, though.”
“What about your brothers?”
“I’m a big girl. I’ll take their lectures.” My head tipped onto his shoulder as he grabbed my leg and cocked it over his thighs. My breathing hitched when his petting recommenced. “I may feign being ill. But I don’t wanna talk about them when you’re doing that thing with your finger.”
That led to me being graced with the most delicious smirk I ever did see. Then, he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked each digit clean.
I watched him, wide-eyed. “You expect me to sleep now?”
His chuckle was soft, tender. Loving. “I do. But remind me tomorrow to spank you for not locking the front door.”
I pouted. “I did lock it, then Raisin had a meltdown. I locked the bedroom door.”
“Still worthy of a spank,” he rumbled.
“Now I’ll never get to sleep.”
Snickering, he hauled me impossibly closer, and I didn’t argue. I was sore and exhausted, plus he was a grown-assed man—he knew what went in had to come out, and getting the wet spot all over him was clearly his preference.
That just so happened to be my last thought before I passed out on top of him…