Chapter 6
Amaya
The lazy spin of the fan in my room creates a grating creaking noise that is currently driving me mad.
My thoughts rumble around my mind, like rocks being worn smooth over a sand bar, scraping against the ocean floor over and over again.
Here I am, back in a bar slinging drinks.
And also back in a restaurant serving. A fun two-for-one combo situation! “Oh, do shut up,” I tell myself.
The conversation had not gone well, but the thing she said that I remember the most was, “Mija, you’re gonna wake up one day, forty, and what will you have done with your life?
If serving is your goal, fine, take some business classes, find a way to make it a solid career, and find a nice place to move up or be a manager.
Open your own place! But this bouncing from place to place is not working, and you know it. ”
Her disappointed energy infected the room, enveloping me in it, choking me with it. And when she rose from the table and finally went to bed, it broke me completely, and I cried myself to sleep that night, turning her words over and over in my mind.
And I lay here now, tears streaming down the sides of my face into my ears, realizing that I am going to be forty in just a couple of years, and I have nothing to show for it.
Just a broken-down car that I probably can’t afford to get fixed, stuck in a small town doing the only thing I’ve ever known how to do because I never did end up taking those business classes or striving for anything higher. I never did listen to Mom.
I roll over into a ball, letting my tears drip off the end of my nose and soak into the comforter, letting my feelings wrap about my body like a wet blanket of misery when I hear three light raps on the door.
“Amaya, are you in?” Sylvain’s deep voice rumbles past the door and settles somewhere near my heart.
Sliding off the bed, I take a few tentative steps toward the door, my hesitation like a block between us.
But then I think of how he stood over me today in his office, the look of pure restrained torture on his face, his gaze raking over mine, how I so wanted him to kiss me.
I yank open the door to find him standing sheepishly, holding two loaded bags from the restaurant.
He holds one up for me to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner because I wanted to apologize properly, and we got interrupted.” He steps into my room and, in two long strides, is at the small round table.
I’ll never get over how tall he is, human or not.
“I can’t take all the credit for making it all, but I tried, and Remy helped, of course.” He starts unpacking box after box of the most delicious-smelling food. “They insisted I include the amuse bouche that is on tonight’s menu; they were very sad you would not be working tonight to try it.”
I stand near him and notice his pulse fluttering in his neck, which sends my pulse racing.
He seems to be babbling now, almost like I would if I were nervous.
But Sylvain could not possibly be nervous coming here to see me, could he?
There is a slight sheen of sweat delicately dotted along his hairline, and he is compulsively rearranging the boxes on the table.
Without thinking, I grab his arm that is holding the box of food and plunk it down on the table, dragging him to the bed, pushing him down so he sits on the edge of it. The look on his face is the same one he gave me when I first stepped into his protected wooded garden, utterly gobsmacked.
I peel my top off and toss it onto the floor, taking pleasure in the fact that his eyes are as big as saucers. “Why did you really come here, Sylvain?” I take a step forward, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra.
He doesn’t answer me, his eyes zero in on my own, a frown appearing. “You’ve been crying. Why?” He stands to meet me, hands cupping my face and looking over me as though he would find physical marks on my body. “Did someone hurt you? What happened?”
Gathering his hands in mine, I shake my head, realizing that he went from being distracted by my naked body to concerned for my well-being in an instant.
I can’t recall a time in my life when a man prioritized my feelings over his own hard-on.
I decide to tuck this confused thought away for another day.
“Nothing happened, I’m just sad, and homesick, and feeling like a complete loser.
” I feel my bottom lip tremble, and I wish my shirt were back on. What was I thinking?
Sylvain tucks me into his chest, enveloping me in his soft leather jacket that smells like the forest and whiskey. His body is shifting and changing under me, and I know when I look up, I will see the dark rack of antlers towering over me and the delicate tattoos etching his skin.
“You shifted,” I whisper.
“I find it very hard to stay in my human form when I am around you, for some reason.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest, sending pleasing vibrations all along my skin and deep into my core.
One long finger tucks under my chin, forcing my gaze upwards to his deep, black eyes.
“You are not a loser. You have Remy wrapped around your little finger. They were so excited to learn something new from you today. Gale is so pleased that you are a professional and that you needed practically no training. It is very rare in our business. You have worth.”
“Thank you,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else.
The pad of his thumb traces over my bottom lip. “You have distracted me from the moment you breached the protective veil of my sacred lands. I don’t know how you found me, or that place, but I have been wanting to do this from that very second, Amaya. I am bewitched by you.”
His head dips to mine, and our lips meet, full and lush.
I open mine to meet his tongue, letting him explore me, taste me.
My body nearly sags into him, my knees feel weak from the sensations zipping along my skin, the electricity practically setting me on fire.
We break apart, gasping, hearts thumping out of our chests.
We hold our gaze for a millisecond before the match is lit, just like we were in the woods, as our clothes go flying.
Whatever can’t come off easily is torn off, and we’re a tangle of limbs on the bed.
His hot mouth is everywhere, suckling my hardened nipples, grazing my sensitive hip bones, slicking against my labia.
The room spins, and I can’t keep track of where he is.
Sensations assault me from every angle before I can register anything, and finally, I realize his massive hands are squeezing and lifting my ass, pressing his mouth to me as he thrusts his tongue into me mercilessly.
He shoves a pillow under me, pinning me into place, eating me like a starving man, while those fine boned fingers work over my clit.
Through slitted eyes, I watch myself, completely spread-eagled before him, any hint of shyness or self-reservation never even entering my head.
This never happens. I’m never like this.
I shoo the thought away because Sylvain’s impossibly long tongue has now hooked upward into that sweet spot that only I have ever found when pleasing myself.
My orgasm comes suddenly and with force, and leaves me boneless just as quickly.
I’m a puddle, my body a live wire. His fingers trace over areas where I never thought I would jump to someone’s touch: the tops of my feet, the undersides of my knees, the shallow dips in my hip, and finally my inner arms.
He is over me now, his big body pressing me into the bed in such a male way it makes me want to cry all over again. His mouth suckles my earlobe, laying delicate kisses along my neck.
“Amaya.”
I’m blissed out and not paying attention. “Hmm?”
“Amaya, look at me.”
My eyes snap open to find his, searching my face, imploring.
“Tell me what you want, what will please you? I will do anything.”
What do I want? Faced with my pleasure in my hands, I am suddenly at a loss. But I do know one thing that I have rarely gotten in my past few relationships is to own my pleasure, and right now I want to take that for myself.
Suckling his bottom lip I feel his breath quicken, as my hands roam his long body, feeling along the length of us until I reach his smooth, velvety cock. “I want to ride you,” I breathe into his neck, watching it bob with anticipation.
Without a second’s hesitation, he rolls over so that I’m lying on him, lifting me by my waist, helping me spread my legs. I pin his cock between us, slicking myself over him, enjoying the feeling of his smooth cock against my clit.
“Could you come like this?” He asks, breathless, watching my face with wonder, hands firmly on my waist, but not moving me, just feeling me on him.
“Yes,” I groan. “Would you hate me if I did?”
“No.” His face is serious. “I would be honored for you to come however you wanted.”
I can tell he means it, and my heart swells because of it. But there is something I want more than to come, so I pause, notching the head of his cock against my pussy, and I lean in to watch his face.
His eyelashes flutter as I move myself over just the head of his cock, swirling it against my opening, causing his jaw to drop open and his hands to grip me in such a way that I know there are dents in my flesh.
I long to thrust him into me, but I don’t, savoring his face as it scrunches up in pleasurable agony.
“Do you want to be inside me?” I whisper, pausing so there is a millimeter of space between my now drenched pussy and his cock.
“Yes,” he croaks.
“Well, you can’t,” I say lightly, and pin his cock back down and slide my clit back over him, moaning at the sensation.
His hands reach up to cup my breasts, but I bat them away.
“No touch, only looking.” They fall to his sides, a pained look crossing his face.
His tongue darts ou,t and I know he wants to lick my nipples very badly, and that thought spurs me on, and I grind a little more on his cock, which seems to have gotten harder since we started.
He reaches up and crosses his hands over his head, gripping his wrists in each hand in an effort not to touch me, causing his biceps to bunch most enticingly.
Leaning forward, I dip my nipples towards his mouth, grazing them over his lips. “No licking, either.” As I snatch them back just as his mouth moves to capture them, causing him to utter a strangled cry.
Once more, I notch him just inside and slowly bounce.
“Are you always in charge?” I say, watching his face carefully, never letting more than an inch of him inside me, and slowing down as he answers.
“Yes, usually.” His voice is tight, strained. His hands grip his wrists so hard that his skin is turning white where his fingers are gripping.
I sit back, straddling his thighs and just watch him breathing, his ribs expanding and contracting, larger than a normal human. His eyes are trained on me, every move I make tracked.
“Sit up slightly,” I command.
Immediately, he sits up against the headboard, cock bobbing as he adjusts.
My fingers graze my neck as his eyes track them, his breath coming in short puffs.
I let them trace my collarbone before winding slow circles around each nipple, causing them to pucker and peak.
His throat bobs again as I reach my mons, and his head drops back onto the headboard, exposing his throat as my fingers dip into my slick labia.
“Amaya, please.” He begs.
“Please, what?” I say, as I reach for his cock with my now slickened hand and start stroking him with a light grip.
“Please, fuck me, I beg of you.” His pleading is like music to my ears.
I stroke him harder, gripping him so he hisses at the touch, bucking his hips into my wet hand before releasing him just as his sac begins to draw up.
He relaxes on the bed, a fine sheen of sweat on his sculpted, lean muscles.
Tracing them, I feel each rip, each taut ridge of muscles as though chiseled from hardwood.
Seeing him laid out in front of me like a buffet, knowing he would lie still and accept probably anything, is tempting, but now I want him.
I scoot back over his hips, lock eyes and watch as his pupils blow out as I sink onto his cock.
My mouth drops open with a breathless gasp, feeling him stretch into me deeper than anyone has ever been, and we stay there, locked together.
“Fuck.” He mutters, hand gripped into fists at his sides.
“Touch me,” I pant, and in an instant, one hand grips my ass, the other at my hip as I ride him, rolling myself onto his cock so it brushes that sweet spot inside me. Guiding my nipples to his mouth, he sweeps his lips from breast to breast, suckling me until I cry out.
His hips thrust up to meet mine, and I’m bouncing, the entire bed shaking. Fire builds in my core, snakes around my belly, and shoots up my back into my scalp, and I know any second I’m going to come.
“Come…with…me,” I gasp, just as it grips me over and over, right as Sylvain roars, spurting inside me, his cock pulsating, sending aftershocks throughout my entire body. He pushes me down as far as my legs will spread, face pressed into my throat as we cry out together.
He falls back into the bed, dragging my limp body over him, so I’m draped like a lion over a tree branch.
The fan creaks, the room is still, with only the sounds of our slowing breaths to punctuate the space.
We lay like this for an indeterminate amount of time, still connected.
I’m basking in the sense of fullness, wishing we could stay like this forever.