Chapter 10 #2
She melted into him immediately, her arms winding around his neck, her body arching up to press against his. The refrigerator hummed behind her. The protein shake pooled forgotten at their feet. The world outside ceased to exist.
He lifted her easily, hands gripping her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist like she'd been waiting for this exact moment. The movement pressed them together in ways that made coherent thought impossible.
"Where—" she gasped against his mouth.
"Table."
He carried her across the kitchen without breaking the kiss. His perfectly organized, obsessively maintained dining room table was actually clear for once. He set her on the edge, and she pulled back just far enough to look at him, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"I have never been less sure of anything in my life." He cupped her face in both hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "And I have never wanted anything more."
"That's—" she laughed breathlessly. "That's confusing messaging."
"Welcome to my existence since you arrived."
Her laugh softened into something warmer. "I do that to people."
He kissed her again, slower this time. Savoring. His hands traced the curves of her body with the same focused attention he brought to studying game footage, cataloging every response and every small sound. When his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts, she shuddered.
"You like that," he murmured.
"Yes. Very much."
"Good." He repeated the motion, watching her eyes flutter closed. "I like learning what you like."
"Tarmek—"
"Tell me if I'm too rough."
She opened her eyes and gave him a look that was half exasperation, half something hotter. "You won't be too rough. I promise."
She reached for the hem of her tank top and started to pull it over her head. "Now can you—oh."
His hands covered hers, stilling the movement. "Let me."
She dropped her arms and let him take over, watching his face as he slowly revealed the skin beneath. He pulled it over her head and tossed it somewhere behind him, immediately forgetting where as his attention focused entirely on the woman in front of him.
She was perfect. All pale, freckled skin and delicate curves, decorated with the occasional smudge of paint she'd missed during her shower. A small sun tattoo adorned her right shoulder.
"Beautiful," he breathed as he cupped her breast, stroking his thumb across a stiff peak.
She gasped and arched into his touch as he continued to explore, happy to show him what she wanted. She met him with equal hunger, her hands exploring, her mouth demanding. She tugged impatiently at his shirt, her eyes widening as he yanked it away.
"You're—" she started, then stopped, fingers tracing the scars scattered across his chest.
"Damaged?"
"Beautiful." She said it simply, like it was obvious. Like scarred green skin and oversized muscles and a face designed for intimidation could possibly qualify as beautiful.
He laid her back on the table, his mouth covering her breasts before trailing down her stomach. She writhed beneath him, her fingers twisting in his hair when he teased the edge of her shorts.
"Tarmek, please."
He stripped the shorts away, leaving her completely bare except for a tiny scrap of fabric.
"So pretty," he murmured, trailing a finger along the lace edge. "Is this for me?"
"Just for you." She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Are you going to do something about it?"
He hooked a finger in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down slowly, baring her to his gaze inch by inch.
When he reached her feet, she kicked them away impatiently, and he took a moment just to look at her.
She glowed in the kitchen's soft lighting, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
He could see the evidence of her arousal glistening between her thighs, and the sight made his control slip another notch.
"Tell me what you want."
"You." Her voice was husky. "I want you. Everything."
He groaned and leaned down to kiss her again, spreading her thighs wider. She was hot and wet and when he brushed his fingers against her, the sound she made was pure sin.
"Inside," she demanded against his mouth. "Now, Tarmek."
He straightened, fumbling with his belt, his hands shaking with a need that bordered on pain. She watched him undress with undisguised hunger, her tongue darting out to wet her lips when his erection sprang free.
"Tattooed and pierced?" Her eyes widened appreciatively. "We're definitely going to need to do this more than once to get everything to fit."
The sound that left his throat was closer to a growl than human speech. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge of the table, and positioned himself at her entrance.
"Tell me if—"
"If it's too much, I'll tell you. I promise." She reached up and traced the curve of his tusk with gentle fingers. "Now stop talking and fuck me, Captain."
He drove forward, entering her in one long, slow thrust that had them both gasping. She was impossibly tight, gripping him like a vise, and so wet that he slid easily to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming—heat and pressure and the feeling of coming home to a place he never knew existed.
"Move," she demanded. "Please, Tarmek—"
He did. He set a rhythm that made the table creak, her breasts bouncing with every powerful stroke.
She met him eagerly, her hips rising to meet his, her hands clinging to his shoulders.
The sounds she made were driving him to the edge—soft cries and sharp gasps and his name whispered over and over.
"Harder," she moaned, and he obeyed, driving into her with the single-minded focus that he brought to every important task. The table beneath them shuddered with each thrust.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice rough. "I want to see you when you come."
Her eyes locked with his, wide and dark and so honest they made his chest ache. He reached between them to circle her clit with his thumb, and her back arched off the table.
"Tarmek—"
"That's it," he coaxed, feeling the orgasm build at the base of his spine. "Come for me, Edie."
She shattered beautifully, her body clenching around him as she cried out his name. The rhythmic tightening pushed him over the edge, his own release hitting him with the force of a checked hit, leaving him gasping and braced above her as pleasure crashed through him in waves.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator. He rested his forehead against hers, still buried deep inside her, not wanting to break the connection.
"Wow," she whispered finally, her voice dreamy. "I didn't know you had that in you, Captain."
He couldn't help it. He laughed. A real laugh, full and unexpected, rumbling from his chest.
"You're impossible."
"You love it."
He raised his head to look at her, still smiling, feeling lighter than he had in years. "You're not wrong."
She reached up to trace the line of his jaw with gentle fingers. "We should probably talk about what this means."
"We probably should." He kissed her forehead and slowly, regretfully, withdrew. "After."
"After what?"
"After I take you to bed properly and do that again. And again. And possibly again after that."