Chapter 28 – ELLIE
ELLIE
Tank's hands shake as they hover over the button of my skirt. I can feel the tremor through his fingertips where they rest against my hip, see the war playing out behind those dark eyes.
Want versus fear.
Desire versus the certainty that he's not good enough, not whole enough, not human enough to deserve this.
Monster…
That's actually what he sees when he looks at himself in the mirror. And I hate that I've never even seen his face, so I know he doesn't believe me when I tell him the truth.
The truth that no matter what he's hiding, he's still the kindest, gentlest man I've ever known. The person who makes me feel safer than any other in this world.
And he doesn't hate me.
He was just trying to keep me safe.
"Hey." I cover his hands with mine, stilling them. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready. I can just—"
He shakes his head. Want this. Want you. Just don't want to hurt you.
The confession makes my heart flutter. This massive man who could snap necks like twigs, who's probably killed more people than I want to count, is terrified of touching me wrong.
"Then let me show you." I guide his hands to the zipper at my hip, helping him slide it down with fingers that are steadier than his. "There's no wrong way to do this, Tank. Not with me."
The skirt pools around my hips, and I shimmy out of it, leaving me in just my panties and shirt. The grass is soft beneath me, sun-warmed and smelling like earth and growing things. Better than any bed.
Tank's breath comes faster through the mask, his eyes tracking down my body like he's memorizing every curve. His hands hover again, uncertain where to touch, and I realize with a jolt that he's probably never seen a woman like this. Never had permission to look, let alone touch.
"It's okay." I reach for his hand, bringing it to my thigh. His palm is rough, callused from work and violence, and the contrast against my soft skin makes me shiver. "See? I'm not going to break."
He traces up slowly, reverent, like I'm something sacred instead of the girl who abandoned him. When his fingers brush the edge of my panties, he freezes again.
Can I?
"Yes." The word comes out breathier than I intend. "Tank, yes. You can touch me however you want. Anywhere you want."
His fingers hook into the fabric, and he pulls my panties down with agonizing slowness. The air hits my bare pussy, and I'm already wet—have been since he pulled me against him, since I felt the evidence of how much he wants me pressing into my stomach.
He stares. Just stares, and I can feel it as surely as if he were touching me. I'm completely exposed to him, spread out on the grass like an offering, and the vulnerability should make me want to cover up.
Instead, it makes me wetter.
"Touch me," I whisper, and his hand moves like I've given him permission to breathe.
His fingers are gentle when they find me, exploratory, testing. He traces through my folds with reverence, learning the shape of me. When his thumb brushes my clit, I gasp, and he immediately pulls back, fear flooding his gaze.
Hurt you?
"No." I grab his wrist, guiding his hand back. "It felt good. Keep going."
He does, circling my clit with more confidence now. The touch is unpracticed but eager, and somehow that makes it better. He's learning me. Memorizing what makes me gasp, what makes my hips buck, what makes me moan his name.
"Inside," I breathe, and his eyes go wide behind the mask. "Put your fingers inside me."
He does, one thick digit sliding into my pussy, and we both groan. His hand is so much bigger than Jinx's, stretching me in ways that make my back arch off the grass. He watches my face like he's afraid he's hurting me, but all he'll find is pleasure written across my expression.
Okay?
"More than okay." I rock my hips, taking him deeper. "Add another."
Two fingers now, and fuck, the stretch is perfect. He pumps them slowly, carefully, and I can tell he's holding back. Afraid of his own strength. Afraid of breaking me.
"Tank." I reach up, cupping his face through the mask. "I'm not fragile. You won't hurt me. I promise."
His expression shifts. The carefulness doesn't disappear, but it's joined by something darker. Hungrier. His fingers move faster, curling to find that spot inside that makes my vision white out for a second.
"Yes," I gasp, my hands fisting in the grass. "Just like that. Right there. Don't stop."
He doesn't. Keeps working me with those huge fingers while his thumb finds my clit, and the dual stimulation has me climbing toward orgasm faster than I expected.
The clumsiness of his hand somehow works perfectly.
His fingers are so huge, it would be impossible for him to not find those spots.
My thighs start to shake, my pussy clenching around him in warning.
"I'm gonna—Tank, I'm—"
The orgasm crashes through me, and I come apart on his hand with a sharp cry, his name on my lips. He works me through it, gentler now, easing me down from the high with touches that feel almost worshipful.
When I finally open my eyes, he's staring at me like I've performed a miracle. Like watching me come is the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.
Perfect, he signs with his clean hand. You're so perfect.
"Your turn." I sit up on shaky arms, still breathless as I reach for his jeans. "Let me see you."
His whole body goes rigid, and I see panic flash across his expression. But he relaxes slightly when I work his zipper down, only to get tense all over again when I shove his jeans and boxers down his muscled thighs.
Holy shit.
He's huge. Thick and long and flushed dark against his solid abs like a skyscraper, already leaking precome.
"Tank." I wrap my hand around him, and he groans. The sound makes my spent pussy clench with renewed interest. "You're so big."
Too big? he signs, and there's genuine worry in his expression. Might hurt you.
"You won't." I stroke him slowly, watching those dark eyes roll back. "We'll go slow. I'll show you."
I guide him over me, his massive frame blocking out the dying sun. He braces himself on his forearms, keeping most of his weight off me even though I want to feel it. Want to be crushed beneath him, surrounded by him, consumed by him.
"You can take the mask off," I say softly.
He goes completely still.
"Not because I need to see," I continue quickly. "But because I want to kiss you. And I can't do that through fabric."
Ellie—
"Please." I reach up, my fingers brushing the edge of the bandana, his lashes fluttering at my touch even as he flinches again. "Let me see all of you. Let me prove to you it doesn't change anything."
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just stares at me with those dark eyes that have seen far too much violence and not enough love.
Just when he starts to reach up, I realize his hands are shaking. He's fucking terrified. My heart sinks.
"It's okay," I say softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek, right over the scar pulling at his eye where I kissed him goodbye four years ago. "You don't have to. This is enough."
The relief that floods his eyes and sags his shoulders makes my heart ache, but I know one moment isn't going to erase a lifetime of fear. Of rejection.
Or four years of silence.
Instead, his hand comes down and cups my face with tenderness that breaks my heart all over again. His thumb sweeps over my bottom lip and I draw it into my mouth, sucking gently.
Heat darkens his gaze and I feel the length of him pressed to my inner thigh, hard and pulsing. I reach between our closely pressed bodies and guide him toward my core, toward the waiting heat that throbs to be filled by him.
His hips roll forward involuntarily, his cock sliding through my wetness, and we both groan. He's not inside me yet, just grinding against me, but the friction is perfect. Maddening.
"Do you want—" I stroke along the top of his shaft where he's pressed against me, arching my hips into him. "You can go inside me. If you're ready."
He nods twice, as desperate as I am, his breath rustling the fabric of his mask.
"Okay." I guide him back to my entrance, feeling the thick head of his cock pressing against me. "Slow. We go slow."
He pushes in, just the tip, and already I'm stretched wider than I thought. Fuck, he's huge. Bigger than any guy I've ever been with. Bigger than I thought was even possible.
"Just like that," I encourage, even as my body struggles to accommodate him. "Nice and slow."
He slides in another inch, his muscular body vibrating with the effort of holding back. I can see the cords of his neck standing out as he fights his instincts to just bury himself to the hilt.
"You're doing so good," I pant, my nails digging into his shoulders. "So fucking good, Tank."
Another inch. Another. He's filling me so completely I can feel him everywhere, stretching me to my absolute limit. My pussy flutters around him, trying to adjust, and he groans.
"All the way," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Give me all of you."
He does, one final thrust that seats him fully inside me. We both freeze, panting, adjusting to the sensation. He's so deep I can feel him in my stomach, so thick I'm not sure how I'm taking him.
But I am. I'm taking every inch of Tank's cock, and the knowledge that I'm the only woman who ever has makes me clench around him involuntarily.
His whole body shudders, and I see panic flash across his expression.
"Don't you dare come yet," I order, even though I'm barely holding it together myself. "Not until I say."
The command seems to ground him. His hips pull back, then push forward in an experimental thrust that has us both gasping. He finds a rhythm—slow, careful, like he's afraid of breaking me—and I let him set the pace even though I want him to fuck me harder.
This is his first time. I'm not going to rush it.
"You feel incredible," I tell him, my hands sliding up his back.