12. Raven
My mind is filled with the memory of Christian groaning as I worked his cock in that empty shed, the fair still in full swing just outside the door. There was a thrill to knowing we weren’t completely alone while he slowly lost control under my touch. Of maybe getting caught in such a public place.
But he stopped me abruptly at the last second, tucking himself, still hard, back into his pants, then steering me out of the shed and to the parking lot.
Now we’re driving home in silence, the car filled with so much tension. I’m afraid to ask because…well, I don’t know if I’ll like the answer.
I’m almost sure of it when he parks the car and is as rigid as ever, his voice cold and just a bit distant. He doesn’t even look at me.
“You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
The disappointment is sheer enough that I’m left speechless as I head to the living room, where I end up standing and staring into space. Then I snap out of it and turn, determined to get to the bottom of this?—
And Christian swoops right in from the garage’s side door, locking it first before he lifts me off the floor and—oh.
“Christian.”
His kisses are madness. They bring me to life and make me lose my thoughts altogether, leaving behind a blessed emptiness as the roaring lust takes over.
His hands? They’re a different set of madness, touching me as if he’s claiming me and already unbuttoning here and unzipping there. Then, he finds my breasts and cups them, his thumbs already working on my nipples.
Somehow, my back is already pressed against the wall as he grinds his erection against me, intensifying my pleasure. I shudder at the sensation, feeling his hardness pressed right against my panties.
“When you said catch up, I thought…”
“I know. I thought about it. Or tried to.”
“And?”
His answer is another kiss, one that’s so deeply hungry and almost volatile. My body becomes a tight string while my hands shakingly undress him, too, needing to touch as much of his bare skin as possible. But I have to ask one more time.
I have to be sure.
“We’re doing this?”
He pulls away from the kiss to breathe against my neck, and I rest my head against the wall as I feel the unbearable heat between us. When he speaks, his voice has the roughest, sexiest drawl there is.
“Do I look like I have a choice? Wanting you is consuming me, Raven. I can’t not want you, but…”
The agony in his voice decides it for me, mostly because I feel it, too.
“I get it. No attachments. No commitments. This is just us wanting each other.”
He growls at my words, then looks at me.
“Yes. I want you. I want you so badly.”
I want him, too, and I’ve had enough of talking as I seek his mouth next, then take his cock in my hand again to continue where I left off. His next groan is rawer and louder, and the delight that we can be as loud as we want here takes over until I’m consumed by it.
I stroke him off until he’s harder than ever, then protest when he abruptly steps back. But when he kneels before me, I realize his intention and feel my anticipation building like a storm, darker than ever.
“Spread your legs, Raven. Open up for me.”
It’s a whispered command, one that I have to follow. I brace against the wall when he rests one leg over his shoulder, then clutch his hair when he takes his first lick and the fire spreads just like that. I’m burning at every lick after, then burning some more when he eases a finger in to tease me further.
Again, I still don’t talk, but I’m beginning to discover that Christian isn’t the silent type when it comes to intimacy.
“So nice and wet. So fucking tight, too. That’s it, sweetheart.”
I’m so tight that it only takes one lick for me to explode. Then my knees give in, so he stands and pushes his body against mine to steady me and kisses me with surprising gentleness this time. It’s a complete contrast to the jutting hardness I feel against my stomach now that his jeans are gone.
I rock myself against him, then look down when I hear the tear of a wrapper. I watch him roll a condom in place and quiver when the ache in my core intensifies.
“Bed?”
But Christian shakes his head, and I realize he’s trembling, too.
“We’re not reaching the bed, baby.”
I almost protest until he grabs my ass and lifts me off the floor again, then urges me to wrap my hips around him. The protest turns into a plea.
“Yes. Please…Christian!”
No sooner than I ask, his cock slides inside me in one smooth thrust, buried to the hilt so quickly. My eyes almost roll back at the spark of electricity before he’s moving, as if he can’t wait anymore. Neither can I.
Christian fucks me against the wall, his cock thrusting in and out with a charged intensity that feels like he’s been so locked tight and he’s releasing everything now. I take it all, my body moving with his until we’re one continuous rhythm, so in tune with each other that nothing else matters but this. Then he’s pressing my hips against the wall, immobile, while he keeps driving into me, and the desire builds up so fast that I know I’m close.
“You take me so good, baby. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? How many times I’ve dreamed of this?”
It sounds impossible, but he takes it up a notch and goes harder. Yet he doesn’t stop being thorough, still putting me first despite everything, as if my needs are his priority. It’s almost too much to bear, that and the friction working in tandem until I’m out of my mind.
Then his cock finds my most sensitive point, and he croons his approval at my cry.
“There. Right there, Christian.”
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Let go.”
I arch as my release comes at the next thrust, a powerful orgasm that snatches my breath. It’s an assault of pleasure on my body and soul, carrying me to depths that I never reached until him. Until Christian.
And when I come down from my bliss, there he is, poised in waiting and jaw clenched. I run my fingers in his hair, then whisper in his ear.
“Let go, Christian.”
He moans, too, a guttural sound that’s so primitive and crazed. Then his control snaps and Christian shudders into his pleasure after a few more powerful thrusts.
* * *
“Can I ask you about something?”
We’re in bed, where we finally ended up after a second round in the shower. The bed was probably the longest session, with Christian taking his time in getting me off before he slipped his cock inside me again. I’ve never had sex marathons before, but this feels like one—and it’s the best kind there is.
Now we’re both just resting, my body laden with exhaustion after the five to six orgasms I’ve received. It has never felt so…indulged, but it’s the good kind. I don’t think I ever really got what multiple orgasms meant until today, and it’s the most mind-blowing thing.
How could I have missed this over the years with all my other relationships?
And how on earth can I ever go back?
I can tell Christian is just as sated and exhausted, but he’s not asleep. He takes some time to answer me, though.
“What?”
I delay, thinking it over for a second before deciding that I might as well get to the bottom of this, too. But I’m more careful this time.
“Your policy. The client one. Is it because of someone or is it just your policy from the get-go?”
There’s a long pause.
“Someone.”
I don’t expect that answer. I don’t expect more, either, understanding now that it’s a sensitive topic and has nothing to do with me. His fingers dance over my skin, a gentle caress just because he can.
But just when I think he’ll tell me to sleep, he finally speaks.
“There was this client. She was young and rich. Kind of famous, too, with her indie band, though she liked to keep a low profile. She hired me when she was going through a divorce and thought her in-laws wanted to drain her of her fortune.”
It’s more information than I imagined I’d get from him, and it awakens my curiosity. But I don’t dare speak, waiting for him to gather his thoughts before he continues.
“We clicked. We started sleeping together when the divorce papers were signed, but they still needed to continue settling who gets what. They were civil about it and the ex wasn’t violent or anything like that, and they were dividing assets and properties peacefully. We started dating while the settlement was happening, and someone saw us together.”
The next silence is foreboding. My stomach twists into knots, and I can’t be silent anymore.
“And?”
Lying in front of me, Christian’s hand tightens around my hip.
“The next day, she was going to meet her friends. Catch up with them now that she was free. But she got shot on the way to the restaurant by her brother-in-law.”
My heart jolts at the coldness in his voice, then the truth that unravels from him. I make a sound, dismayed, as I already know what’s next.
“She didn’t make it.”
“She didn’t. Her brother-in-law went to prison, but…she didn’t make it.”
God, the tightness in his tone makes me want to erase the memories, but I know he carries that event like I carry my past.
“How long ago was this?”
“Around two years ago. I was juggling my Navy SEAL commitment and my business, which was just starting.” He leans over and kisses my shoulder, something painful in his gaze. Unable to resist, I reach up and cup his jaw, soothing the hardness with my thumb.
“That wasn’t your fault.”
But he shakes his head, denying my words.
“It was. It is. Because I got distracted with our relationship. I didn’t keep investigating—and if I had, I would have known the brother-in-law was a violent man who already disliked her from the start. He was the one I should have watched out for. Instead, I was too busy screwing her—and that cost her life.”
Bitterness coats the air, and all I can do is keep rubbing his jaw.
“That’s when I knew that romance has no space in my life and I can’t ever get distracted with attachments and feelings again.” This time, his eyes meet mine. “It’s why I got mad at you when I found out about your ex and situation. But mostly, I was mad at myself.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, then nod. I want to keep insisting that it’s not his fault and that the blame shouldn’t be put on his shoulders since it was a tragedy more than anything else. But I know what trauma can do—and I know more than anyone how all one can do is breathe and take it one day at a time.
But I also know I have to let him understand one thing.
“You’ll protect me.” I whisper it, but my words ring clearly in our hushed space. I kiss him, wanting to reassure him with that, too. “Whether we’re sleeping together or not, whether we’re fighting or not, I know you’ll protect me.”
He kisses me back, then pulls me closer, making me feel so alive and aching for more at the same time. We stay kissing for a long while, enjoying the slow and lazy exchange of passion before he settles me against his chest and kisses the top of my head.
“Sleep. You’ve had a long day.”
I want to protest that we shared the long day and I still have some energy left, but it’s no surprise when my eyes give in and I’m knocked out before I can say anything. At first, my sleep is dreamless until a woman shot in the head fills it up before it morphs into Sam running after me with a gun in his hand.
I wake up with fear stuck in my throat and my hands clutching the mattress for protection. Then I realize it’s not the mattress but Christian’s shirt, and he pulls me even closer until there’s no space between us. I try to explain, but he’s one step ahead of me.
“It’s okay. You just had a nightmare. It’s not real, Raven.” He kisses the top of my head again, then my forehead. Then, my lips. “This is real. You’re safe here with me.”
I’ve never believed anyone more in my life.
And just like that, I’ve never been more ready to go back to sleep, confident that the nightmare won’t return while I’m in his arms.