CHAPTER 7 #2
“Then hold it closed and keep it above your heart,” he said. “Do not let anybody near it with a needle who is not me.”
The Cage smells of gun oil and cold block.
I went in first and got the wet jacket off my shoulders, and my shirt came off with it, and my bra went after that.
The cold got at my nipples before he was through the door.
I put my good hand on his chest and walked him backward into the north wall, and he let me, and being let is not the same thing as moving a man.
“You are going to stand there and let me be angry at you,” I said.
“I am going to stand here and let you do anything you want to me,” he said. “Then we are going to talk about your hand.”
“Hands on the block. Leave them there.” He raised them over his head and laid them on the block and left them. I pulled his wet shirt up his ribs and off over his hands, and there was a smear of my blood down the front of it.
“I am going to look at your nipples and nothing else until you tell me otherwise,” he said. He waited about as long as a breath, because I was already stepping into him.
“Otherwise.”
He bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth. His hands never came off the block. He worked it with his tongue and then with his teeth, gentle and then not gentle at all, and my nipples went hard enough to hurt. When I told him the other one he went to the other nipple.
“I can feel how wet you are against my leg through everything you have on,” he said, with his mouth still at my nipple. “Tell me to stop and I stop, and I will not ask you once why.”
“Do not stop, and do not take your hands down.”
“Tell me the next thing before you do it,” I said. “Every time.”
“Every time.”
I opened his belt with one hand, which took longer than it would have taken him, and he did not offer to help. I got the buttons open and got his cock out and put my fist around it. He made a sound into my hair that was not a word in any language.
“I am going to kiss you.” I answered him into his mouth. He kissed like a man who had been made to wait for it, and his hands stayed where I had put them. My fist kept working his cock between us until his hips started giving me something back.
Then I went down on my knees on the mat. He looked at my left hand before he looked at any other part of me, and he spoke to the hand first.
“You stop the second that palm goes. I will know, because I am going to be watching it the whole time.”
“Then watch it.”
I got my lips around his cock. He said my name once and then stopped saying anything at all. The only sounds in that room were the ones I was making and his palms flexing on the block over his head.
“Look at you,” he said, from somewhere above me. “On your knees on my floor and running the entire thing.”
I pulled off him and put my fist back on his cock and took him deeper, and he swore at the ceiling. His hands stayed up. They would have stayed up until the building came down, and that was when I stopped being angry about the lock and started being angry about how much I wanted this.
“I am going to lift you, sparrow. Tell me no and I will not.”
“Lift me.”
His hands came off the block for the first time all night.
He got me up the wall with his shoulder and one forearm under my right thigh, and the burn on that forearm rode across my skin so that I could count every ridge of it.
He got two fingers into my pussy and his thumb onto my clit, and he did not hurry with either one.
“You told me to leave my hands on the block,” he said into my throat. “I am off the block. Tell me to put them back and they go back.”
“Keep them exactly where they are.”
He worked me slow and then not slow, and his thumb never left my clit. I came fast and hard with my heels crossed at his back and my mouth open against his ear, and the noise I made came back at me off the block. He held me through the shaking and said nothing until it stopped.
“Your thighs are shaking and you are still giving me orders.” He was grinning against my jaw when he said it.
“I have more.”
“I am going to fuck you against this wall. Tell me to. Say it.” He stopped everything he was doing and waited on it.
“Condom,” I said.
“In the wall kit.” He shifted me just enough to reach it, tore the foil one-handed, and rolled it on. “Now tell me again.”
“Fuck me against this wall.” He got his cock into me in one push that took the air out of both of us.
There was nothing gentle in it after that, because I had not asked for gentle and he listens to what I ask him for.
My shoulders took the block on every stroke and I could feel the grain of it in my skin.
His hand came under me and his thumb found my clit again, and my pussy was wet enough that the sound of it filled the room.
“Harder. Do not stop.”
“Ask me for that again.” His voice had gone to pieces on the second word.
“Harder.”
He gave me harder. I came again with my teeth in his shoulder and my hurt hand fisted in the air beside his head.
He went a stroke or two after me, with his cock as deep in my pussy as it would go and my name buried somewhere in the noise.
He kept me up on the wall until my legs remembered what they were for.
He set me down. He put his forehead on the block beside my head and breathed there like a man who had run the tunnel himself.
“Look what you did to my shirt. Good girl.”
“You are shaking,” I said.
“So are you.”
“You have my blood on your shirt and your cock is still out,” I said. “Do not lecture me about shaking.”
I got my breath back before he got his, or he got his first and let me believe otherwise. I could not have told anybody which. Neither of us said out loud which one had lost, and I have gone over it since and it does not come out the same twice.
He crouched to get my jacket up off the mats. Then he had my hurt hand open on his knee and was turning it toward the bulb.
Then a voice came down the east stair, unhurried, from above the first turn, and pitched to carry as far as us and no farther.
“I have had the sub-basement log since Tuesday and did not tell you — and I told Julian four minutes ago, and he is at the head of the east stair, and he has not said anything since.”