Chapter 25
Marissa
“How did it go?”
Hawk makes a face that perfectly encapsulates his thoughts on Dylan, and I laugh.
“Thanks for doing this for me,” I tell him.
I really didn’t want to see Dylan, so I was relieved when Hawk offered to handle the drop-off today.
“Do you want to go lie down, or are you up for spending some time here with me?” Hawk asks as he moves my hair away from my forehead so he can gauge my temperature.
“With you,” I say quickly. “I hope DJ didn’t catch my cold. What if he gets sick at his dad’s?”
“He seemed fine this morning,” Hawk tells me as he rummages through a cabinet. “And you can always call Slim for updates.”
“I guess,” I say, but it doesn’t ease the tension in my gut.
“How do you feel about arts and crafts?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t know. It’s been so long.”
“I figured we should take it easy today because you’re sick. Okay, we have an embroidery kit, a punch needle kit, and a cross stitch kit. We also have puzzles and some miniatures to paint.”
I examine his loot. “Where did you get all of this?”
“The clubhouse. We have a ton of this stuff in the family room. Hobbies can help during recovery.”
“Have they helped you?” I ask as I open a cross-stitch kit with a ladybug on the box.
“A little,” Hawk answers as he opens one with a bee on it.
“Physical movement and riding have always helped me the most, but other people find peace when focusing on a tangible task. For example, Cash crochets like a madman whenever he needs to quiet the noise in his head. He made that blanket,” he nods his head towards the item in question.
“No,” I gasp.
“Hammer is into LEGO sets. The ones with a million tiny pieces. I could never.”
“Huh.”
As I ruminate on the two men’s unexpected hobbies, I let my own task consume me.
I’ve never threaded a needle for non-practical purposes, I realize. Never thought it could be an instrument of fun and enjoyment.
I focus all my attention on separating the threads, following the pattern, counting the stitches, finding the right holes, and before I know it, my Aida cloth has half of a beautiful little ladybug on it.
“Look!” I exclaim victoriously, only to find Hawk already watching me.
He’s sitting with his legs crossed, and his project is abandoned on the floor next to his armchair.
“Are you aware that you haven’t looked up from your hoop in 45 minutes?” He asks.
I frown. He must be exaggerating.
“My neck does feel a bit sore,” I admit as I glance at the clock. “Has it seriously been that long?”
Hawk nods. “I’m guessing you liked it?”
“It was… hypnotizing. It’s like my mind finally shut up, you know,” I tell him as I stretch my back and lean over my legs to grab my toes. “I was so focused on counting the stitches that I didn’t have time to overthink or worry about anything else. It was beyond relaxing.”
“I’m glad. We can go to a craft store one day and get you more stuff. Do you need help with that?”
I gladly abandon bending my neck to my left shoulder to get the kinks out. “Yes, please.”
Hawk joins me on the couch, and we settle in a position that allows him access to my back. The moment I feel both his hands on the base of my neck, my nipples stiffen like they’ve been tugged. Fuck. I press my lips together to keep the moan to myself.
My legs reflexively spread, and I put my palms on the space they free up on the couch cushion.
“Is this pressure okay?” Hawk asks as his thumbs gently but persistently work on the knots between my shoulder blades.
I nod, unable to trust my voice. As Hawk’s hands move lower, I bend forward to make it easier for him, using the opportunity to squirm against my wrists in order to relieve some of the tension I’m feeling.
Hawk makes a small sound of surprise when I gasp.
“Do you like this, baby?” He asks hoarsely.
I shamelessly press my legging-clad ass into his erection instead of responding. Hawk’s forehead meets my shoulder as his arms move to hug my waist.
“Fuck, Marissa, you’re trying to kill me.”
His words make me giddy, and I turn over my shoulder to smile at him. He looks dazed. His eyes are black, and his cheeks are flushed. His mouth…
A magnetic force draws my face closer to his as my eyes dart between his mouth and gaze.
Hawk deftly repositions my body so that I can execute the kiss I long for, and I want to laugh victoriously.
Anything I want, this man - my man - will see to making it possible.
I want to do more to him. To reduce him to a writhing, gasping mess. I want him to say delirious, helpless, dirty things and give me more of those reverent, yearning, awe-filled looks.
I pull away from the kiss and push Hawk into a semi-reclined position. Seeing his tented sweatpants makes my pussy throb. He adjusts himself, and I can’t look away.
I slowly run my palms over his chest and abs, enjoying the quivering of his muscles under my touch. Hawk closes his eyes briefly.
When I straddle him, feeling his cock against my clit makes my eyes roll back. Hawk’s hands fly to my ass, and he helps guide me up and down his shaft.
I moan into his mouth as we make out. At one point, I steal some of the air from his lungs, and we share a surprised look before continuing. I’d kinda like to do it again.
I’ve never felt closer to someone, even though neither of us has taken any clothes off yet.
As if he heard the thought, Hawk’s hands travel under my shirt.
He gently palms both of my breasts before taking my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and tweaking them.
His fingers successfully work together with the itchy lace of my bra to drive me wild.
I moan deep from my throat, and he looks up at me.
I lean forward as I try to get more friction on my clit, and Hawk uses the opportunity to slide his right hand into my underwear, down my ass, and all the way to my pussy. Both of us gasp when his thick finger slides into me effortlessly.
“Is that it, baby? Is this what you need?” He asks as he adds another.
“Oh yes. This is it,” I tell him as I ride his fingers.
The slippery noises that ensue are positively obscene. I wouldn’t be surprised if my leggings were completely soaked through.
Hawk pumps into me a few more times as I keep grinding against his front, and when he catches one of my nipples between his teeth and pulls, I am g-o-n-e.
I explode. My pussy clenches and pulses around his fingers for what feels like five minutes, but is most likely seconds, and when it’s over, I melt into a puddle and drape myself over him.
He gives my face and hair gentle little kisses as he carefully slips his fingers out of me.
He inhales deeply when he brings them up to his face and licks them clean without ever breaking eye contact with me.
Speechless, I kiss him and taste myself on his tongue. His cock under me twitches, but I’m too sensitive after my orgasm, so I get off his lap.
It’s a sight. His grey sweatpants have several wet spots on them, and the red, leaky head of his cock is peeking from under the waistband.
I want to lick the shiny bead of liquid from its tip, but I suddenly feel exposed and shy.
Hawk gives me a warm smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I did,” I admit.
“I’m glad,” he says, running the fingers that were inside me over his mouth.
“Do you…?” I ask, vaguely gesturing to his crotch.
He laughs and pulls his sweatpants up a bit. “You’re still ill, I don’t want you exerting yourself. I’ll live.”
I blush at the image of us exerting ourselves, in bed, fully naked.
Hawk groans. “Don’t look at me like that. A man’s only got so much chivalry in him.”
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I say and run off upstairs, followed by Hawk’s laughter.
*
I’m busy eating my eggs when I suddenly realize that our table has gone silent. I look up and find Hammer gazing at Lucy with tortured eyes.
“Hey, man,” Hawk tells him casually, but I can see his body is tense.
“Hey everyone,” Hammer replies hoarsely. “Can I borrow Lucy for a second?”
Four pairs of eyes are trained on the woman in question, who never even looks up from her plate.
“Is this about work?” She asks coldly.
“Not exactly,” Hammer starts hesitantly, but Lucy cuts any further explanation off.
“Then we have nothing to talk about. Goodbye.”
Hammer stands there for a few beats, breathing heavily, as if gearing himself to try and persuade her, but ultimately he relaxes and says, “You’ll have to talk to me sometimes, Luce.”
The loud clank of Lucy’s fork against her plate almost makes me jump. She finally looks at Hammer, but her eyes are so hateful that he draws in a sharp breath.
“Listen to me, Frank.” She says his name like it’s an insult.
“I’m tired. I’m tired of my parents' criticism, of my ex and his holier-than-thou attitude, of feeling like I’m not enough for my boys.
You were the last drop, the cherry on top of a big fat shit sundae, and I’m done.
I don’t want you anymore. Get that in your thick skull.
Not as a friend, not as nothing. Leave me the fuck alone.
Stop trying to talk to me, or I’ll quit and find a new job, you know I will. ”
Hammer’s shoulders slump.
Red looks like she’s going to cry.
Hawk puts his hand on my knee, and I cover it with mine.
Lucy resumes eating.
Around us, the Friendly Fork buzzes with activity, people outside this bubble unaware of what’s going on.
Five minutes after Hammer leaves, Lucy announces that she has to go too. “I have to get ready for my date.”
“Your what?” Red asks, as shocked as the rest of us.
“You remember the customer I told you keeps asking me out, David?”
Red nods slowly.
“I finally said yes,” Lucy announces cheerfully. “Wish me luck!”