Chapter eleven #3
That evening, Connor and I are sprawled on the huge velvet corner sofa in his apartment.
We’ve just eaten a banquet of Chinese takeout, and my stomach feels fit to burst.
He sits pushed back into the corner as I lie with my head on his lap.
Deft fingers play with my hair as we watch a predictable rom-com on his huge television.
“I like this,” I whisper then close my eyes, enjoying the gentle strokes on my skin.
“The situation, or us in general?” His fingers move lower to my breast, and he plays with my nipple through the fabric of my tank top. It hardens under his touch.
“All of it.” I push myself up and move to straddle him, placing my hands on either side of his head. “I love everything about us.”
“Everything?” He raises an eyebrow. “Elaborate, please. I could do with having my ego massaged.”
“I’ll do more than massage your ego.” I wriggle off the sofa and drop to my knees between his legs.
My hands move to the waistband of the gray jogging bottoms he’s wearing, and I tug impatiently.
He lifts his hips to allow the material to slip over his ass, and his cock springs free. “Commando, I like it.”
“Noted. I will throw all my boxers away and walk around commando from now on. Your pleasure is my number one priority.” I laugh, and his eyes lock with mine. They glint with the need of a man who knows what’s coming next.
“First of all, I love how we laugh,” I tell him, and he smiles. “Second, I love the way you kiss me every time I arrive here.”
“You like that?”
“Yeah, it feels coupley.” My cheeks heat, embarrassed by the admission.
“Coupley? I’m not sure that’s a word in the English dictionary,” he teases.
“Do not question my language skills. Not after…”
“After what?” he asks, confused.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, not wanting to think or tell him about Russell’s nonsense today. “Third, my favorite thing about us is the way you don’t demand my time. The way you don’t demand sex from me. What we have feels…complicit.”
“Sex should always be consensual, Sam,” he says softly, stroking my cheek. “And both participants need to get what they want from it.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I add hastily. “I love it when you’re bossy, but I know with you if I say no, you’ll understand. You make me feel safe.”
“You always have a choice with me. And if I ever lay my hands on the bastard who didn’t give you one, I’ll fucking end him.” He holds my focus firm, then raises both eyebrows. “Who is he?” I shake my head, not wanting to discuss this with him. “I want a name.”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past,” I murmur, placing my hands on his knees and dropping my gaze between his feet. The last thing I want to discuss with him is my overly controlling ex who believed my body was his property.
“Of course it matters. Your reaction is the only evidence I need that it matters. I will find him,” he says, confidently.
“And when I do, he’ll wish he wasn’t fucking born.”
I glance up to see honest, intense eyes staring back, and my fear of the past seems to disintegrate.
This man…I believe every word from his lips.
He’s everything I don’t deserve. He’s got me, and I, in return, want to give him my soul.
“I adore you,” I whisper, never breaking our focus.
“And I worship you, but right now, I want you to suck my dick.” I giggle, taken aback by the unexpected request, absurd in the tense moment but appreciated. “Take those pretty pink lips and wrap them around my cock. I want to be balls deep in your throat before I sink myself in your pussy.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a smile and salute him. As I go to take him in my mouth, his hand touches my head.
“Wait, first I want you naked.” I blink up at him, and he signals for me to stand.
“Strip.” I gape at him, and he smiles sexily as he sits on his sofa with his cock standing tall against his toned stomach and his jogging bottoms around his ankles.
He’d been topless when I returned from work, and I wasn’t complaining.
“You want me to dance?”
“No, I want you fucking naked. Take your clothes off, get on your knees, and suck my dick until I shoot my load down your throat.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply sexily, then lift my top over my head and slide out of the shorts I’m wearing. His eyes drop to my bare pussy. “Oops, I’m commando too. It’s fate.”
“Get over here,” he growls, and I drop to my knees once more then take him fully in my mouth.
He hisses as I give him no time to prepare, sucking greedily on his thick cock.
He fills my mouth, and I push him further, wanting to take him as far as I can.
His hands move to my hair; strong fingers twist the strands pulling on my scalp.
I’m mid-suck when I’m interrupted by a furious voice.
It takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from Connor.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouts, livid. When I look up, I see Russell standing in the apartment watching us. He looks at his brother, then at me, before returning his attention to Connor and smirks.
“Enjoying the porn show,” he says casually.
“Too far, Russ,” Connor snarls, jumping to his feet.
His body connects with mine, and I’m thrown onto my backside.
My breasts jiggle, and Russell's eyes widen further.
“Sam, put your clothes on.” Connor wrestles with his joggers, trying to pull them hastily up from his ankles as I reach for anything to cover myself.
Once dressed, Connor stalks toward his brother then grabs his shirt by the collar.
He’s dressed the same way he was when I saw him earlier at the hospital.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” Connor shouts, his usual calm manner obliterated.
“And how much whiskey have you drank? You fucking stink.”
Russell’s eyes flit to the balcony. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You climbed down the outside of the building to get in here. Why not use the fucking door?” Russell shrugs, his gaze roaming the room, looking everywhere but at his younger brother. “Russ, have you done this before?”
“No comment.”
“No comment? Seriously, I’ve caught you snooping on me and my girlfriend, and that’s all you fucking have to say.” Russell shrugs again, and the fury radiating from Connor increases to a furnace. “Fuck Russ, have you done this before?”
Russell looks directly at him, his eyebrows drawn together, then his eyes dance with mischief. “More than once,” he says casually. “You two can certainly put on a show.”
I watch as Connor pushes Russell hard in the chest.
He stumbles backward and Connor hits him again before manhandling him out onto the balcony.
They wrestle for a few minutes, a suited body wrapping around a bare one.
Russell throws a punch, and it connects with Connor’s nose.
Blood spurts from his nostrils instantly.
“Stop,” I shriek, running to the doorway as the two men lose control.
I try to get between them, and Russell draws back and aims at his brother.
He misses as Connor steps to the side. Russell stumbles forward, his large body connecting with mine.
I fall to the ground, throwing my hands down to save myself as the tears start to fall.
Both men freeze, and four concerned eyes fall on me.
“Too fucking far,” Connor growls. “Fuck off back to your own apartment the way you came.” He pushes him toward the ladder, pinning him against the railing.
Russell grabs for the rung and pulls himself upwards so he is balanced between the ladder and balcony.
He swings a foot in Connor’s direction, connecting with his abdomen.
On instinct, Connor deflects the blow and pushes him hard on the thighs.
Russell wobbles. His palms grip the cool metal, then release.
The next few seconds happen in slow motion—I watch in horror as he falls then disappears behind the barrier and out of sight.