Chapter 2 #2
Her cheeks went redder. A small, surprised smile tugged at her mouth, like no one had said it to her before and she didn't know what to do with the words. She looked pleased, almost shy about it, and that did something to me.
I pulled my hand free, sat up just enough to get an arm under her knees and the other around her back. She made a startled sound as I lifted her off the couch.
"Bed," I said. "Not doing this on the couch."
I carried her the short distance into the private room, laid her down on the mattress.
The light was lower in here. I stripped the rest of her clothes off carefully this time, then my own, and settled between her legs again.
My mouth found her breasts, slow now, sucking and licking until her breathing went uneven.
I worked lower, kissed the soft skin of her stomach, the insides of her thighs, then put my mouth on her properly.
Tongue and careful fingers, taking my time, making sure she was wet and open before I even thought about more.
When she was shifting under me, hands in my hair, I finally moved up, lined myself against her, and pushed in slow.
"Tell me if it hurts," I said against her mouth.
She sucked in a sharp breath as I sank deeper, her nails digging into my shoulders. Tight heat closed around me inch by inch. I held still once I was in, waiting.
"It's... a lot," she whispered. "But don't stop."
I stayed careful at first, rolling my hips in long, measured strokes, watching her face. The friction was almost too much. She felt brand new around me.
After a while she let out a breathy little laugh against my neck.
"In the videos they just go for it," she said. "All rough and fast right away. Reality's different."
I huffed a short laugh that came out half-annoyed, half-amused. "Yeah? You want the video version?"
I didn't wait for an answer. I hooked one of her legs higher, shifted my angle, and drove into her harder, deeper, the wet sound of it filling the quiet room. Her gasp turned into a moan. I kept the pace, steady and relentless now, chasing the way her body tightened every time I bottomed out.
"Like that?" I asked, voice rough against her ear.
She could only nod, clinging to me as the couch—no, the bed—creaked under us.
"Fuck," I breathed against her temple. "You take it so well."
Her hands slid down my back, nails raking lightly, then harder when I angled my hips and ground against that spot that made her breath hitch. A broken sound escaped her throat.
Her breasts moved with each thrust, soft and heavy against my chest. I ducked my head and took one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard while I fucked her. She arched, a sharp cry leaving her lips, and I felt her get even wetter around me.
"That's it," I muttered, voice low. "Let me feel it."
I reached between us, found her clit with my thumb, and rubbed in tight circles timed to my thrusts.
Her hips jerked. The sounds she made turned higher, needier.
I watched her face—eyes half-lidded, mouth open, the flush spreading down her throat.
First time and she was already falling apart under me.
"I'm close," I warned her, the words strained. "You feel too fucking good."
She nodded frantically, fingers digging into my shoulders. "Don't stop—please—"
I gave her what she asked for. Harder. Deeper.
Her whole body went tight all at once, a full-body shudder rolling through her as she came around me, pulsing and milking my cock.
The sensation ripped the last of my control away.
I buried myself to the hilt and came with a low groan, spilling into her in thick pulses while her aftershocks kept fluttering around me.
I stayed inside her as we both caught our breath, foreheads pressed together. My hand stroked slowly down her side, over the soft curve of her hip, grounding us both.
Afterward, I carried her into the bathroom.
When the hot water came down, I closed my eyes. The warmth rolled from the top of my head to my feet, washing away some of the lingering heat on my skin. Steam rose under the warm yellow light, hanging in a thin haze that clung to the ends of her deep copper hair.
She still hadn't sobered up. She sagged against me, heavy and pliant, but her hands stayed busy, tracing slow, lazy lines over my chest.
"What are you drawing?" I looked down, my chin brushing her hair.
She looked up at me, her pupils softened into a pale gray-blue in the light. "Marking."
"Marking what?"
She didn't answer. She only lifted a finger, slick with water, and wrote on my chest, stroke by stroke.
—Will you dream about me tonight?
Then she met my eyes, her voice turned soft by the heat and the water. "Will you?"
Water ran over her hair, down those thick curls, breaking into smaller droplets on her shoulders, sliding along her collarbone and into my hand.
My palm held her waist. My thumb brushed the faint red marks on her side, the ones my mouth had left, a shallow bloom like a little burn.
"I will," I said, my voice blending with the rush of water, low like I was admitting it to myself. "Not just tonight."
Her eyes brightened. Her lips parted, and a droplet clung to the curve of her mouth until I bent and kissed it away.
Sweet. Still that raspberry sweetness, mixed with the damp of steam, like sugar melting in fog.
Hot water beat down on our tangled shoulders and ran down her spine.
I caught her lower lip between my teeth, gentle at first, then firmer, and for the first time in a long time, I found a taste that wasn't blood that actually steadied me.
We went again, until she finally gave in.
When I dried her off and carried her back to the bed, she was barely able to keep her eyes open. Her lids drooped, lashes clumped with leftover moisture.
I lay down, and she shifted like a small animal finding a warm den, scooting closer until she curled into my arms.
"I was wrong," she mumbled.
"About what?"
"I won't give you a bad review. Your attitude beats everyone's." Her face pressed into the hollow of my neck, her breath light as a feather. "At least you didn't laugh at a drunk, fat woman who wandered into the wrong room."
I reached over and turned off the wall lamp. In the dark, only her even breathing remained. I lowered my mouth to the top of her head and kissed her, then tightened my arm around her.
How the hell was she fat?
She was only fuller than most. Softer. Cuter. When I held her, it felt like holding something warm that had been left out in the sun.
My fingers slid through her curls, down over her round shoulder and the back of her neck. After all these years living on edges, I'd gotten used to everything being hard. Guns were cold. Knives were sharp. Smiles always hid an angle.
Only she didn't.
She was soft, and even her breathing tasted sweet.
It was the first night in years I didn't sleep with a gun under my pillow.