21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Rina
The door slams behind us as we wrestle with our clothes, mouths still connected in a wild mess of limbs. He spins me around, my back slamming against the hip-high workbench as I whimper in pain.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Arlo mumbles as his kisses trail down my neck.
Somehow, my shirt is already off, and I move my hands to his side to even things up. Sliding my hands up, I take my time feeling his muscles—the notch at the start of the V that leads directly to his dick, the subtle bumps of the edge of his abs. The man is built even after everything he’s been through. With all the pain he’s been suffering through, he still manages to keep himself in peak condition. It’s ridiculously sexy.
I don’t even notice the hard, metal bench digging into my lower back; not when I drag his shirt up and over his head, revealing a literal piece of art. I push him back a little so I can just look at him. Every time we’ve been together, it’s been rushed and to the point. I’m not sure what exactly shifted, but I don’t want that right now. I want to see him, see the man who seems to be wiggling his way back into my life like I don’t have a say in the matter.
Honestly, I’m not sure I want a say. I’ll just overthink it.
My fingernails scrape against his skin, sending goosebumps over his body. I study him as my eyes follow every inch of skin I touch. I see a touch of black on his side; a tattoo I never knew he had. Forcefully twisting his body so I can get a better look, I suck in a breath at what I see.
My eyes flit to his, unsure if I’m seeing what I think I am.
“The falls,” he whispers, and my heart clenches in my chest. He got a tattoo of a place that only means something to us. I don’t know when he did it, but it certainly wasn’t when we were together.
What does this mean?
Before I can contemplate the answer to that question, I see that it isn’t just an outline of the falls we both love too much. There’s a shape that flows seamlessly into the design, something you might miss if you aren’t looking at it like I am.
A heart.
It doesn’t look like just any heart. It looks familiar, but I can’t figure out where I’ve seen it before. Maybe it has to do with us. It would make sense since it ties in with the falls. It’s not perfect, almost like it’s handwritten. I trace it as if by memory.
My fingers freeze on the heart when the realization slams into me.
It’s the heart I drew in the note I sent back with the divorce papers.
I look up at him, confusion no doubt written all over my face.
Pain shows all over his.
“I … I needed a piece of you. Despite everything, I needed you close. Always.” His gravelly voice mixed with his words sends a baffling combination of want and panic through my system.
Emotions I don’t want to face right now war with the fact that I just want to jump him. At the most basic level, he branded me on his skin, and it’s sexier than I want to admit .
My finger is still tracing the image as I think about my next move. I have two options. Shut shit down right here and now, and really figure out what I’m doing with him. Or say fuck it and pretend this revelation doesn’t fuck with everything I knew about him.
I look up at him and see him patiently waiting for me. I know with every fiber of my being he’ll do whatever I want. If I walk away, he’ll respect that, but if I don’t?
Impulsive.
Needy.
Loved.
I feel it all in a matter of seconds, and the overwhelming feeling of being loved overrules any logic I desperately try to hold on to.
My hands move to the band of his jeans, barely dipping inside as I move toward the button.
“Is this okay?” I ask because it’s a two-way street. He may go with anything I say, but that doesn’t mean how he feels doesn’t matter. If anything, that means it matters a hell of a lot more.
“God, yes. Touch me, Emmerdeur.” He groans as his arms encircle my waist and hoists me up onto the bench. His hands shift to my leggings, trying to pull them off before realizing my position makes things complicated.
He lifts me back up, placing me on the ground as I hold on tight to his shoulders.
“Fucking pants,” he mutters. “Strip me,” he says more firmly as he rips my leggings and panties down my legs.
I step out of everything, including my shoes, as I fumble with the button of his jeans before it finally pops through the little hole. I waste no time unzipping and shoving them down, catching his boxers with my thumbs as I do. He clumsily kicks off his tennis shoes before using his feet to get his pants the rest of the way off. Never once do his hands leave my waist.
Once he’s completely naked, his attention shifts back to me as he picks me up and places me back on the workbench. His thumb shifting back and forth on my skin sends a wave of longing through me.
Even though he’s right here, even though we’re doing this, it doesn’t change things outside of sex. I wish we could cut to the end where we’ve somehow made it through all the work we need to put in, all the hurt, and come out the other side together like we always should have been.
But I don’t want to focus on that. I want to focus on the heat turning his brown eyes nearly black. The tension in his muscles tells me he’s barely restraining himself.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, and it’s like the tether snaps.
His body engulfs mine as his lips crush against mine. I feel him everywhere, and yet it’s not enough. My short nails dig into his ribcage, right where the tattoo is, pulling him impossibly closer.
One hand on my ass, he yanks me to the edge of the bench where I feel the fingers of his other hand slip down to my pussy. As he circles my clit a few times, I moan into his mouth, grinding my hips against his hand.
I want more. I want it all.
A pinch to the clit sends a jolt through me, making me pull back from our kiss and narrow my eyes at him.
He licks his lower lip with a smirk on his face, and my mind screams, Danger!
Two fingers glide through the wetness already building before pushing inside of me. My head tilts back on another moan.
“Eyes on me, Marina. I won’t ask again. ”
My head jerks up as he pulls his fingers out. I whimper at the loss, on the verge of begging, when the hand on my ass squeezes tight and I feel his cock notch at my entrance.
My breathing is erratic with anticipation, but he just stares at me, making me wait.
“Arlo…” I breathe.
His hips shove forward until he’s fully seated, and his jaw is clenched. My hands move up to cup it, and he looks deep into my eyes as he stands stock still.
Everything shifts at that moment. I see things I thought were impossible for so long, a future I had given up on.
His head tips forward, resting against mine.
“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine, and you will always be mine. I don’t care what it takes to get there. I will do it all.” He grinds against me, making me whimper. “Say it, Emmerdeur. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Arlo,” I whisper. His eyes close as his hips flex.
His eyes open, and I can tell immediately the switch has flipped. Sweet, almost unsure Arlo is nowhere to be found.
And I am so ready for it.
He pulls all the way out before thrusting deep inside of me. The friction is everything as I feel my orgasm building. The grip on my ass tightens, and I know there’ll be little fingerprint bruises there tomorrow.
His very own mark on me.
His pace picks up, and I’m lost in pure feeling. The tingle in my toes. The heartbeat in my clit begging to be touched. The warmth of his breath on my neck as he bites that tender spot where my shoulder starts .
I cry out at the same time as I feel his hand shove in between us, wedged with no way to move, but it doesn’t matter. The tip of his finger presses down on my clit with perfect precision, and I detonate.
The whooshing in my ears makes everything sound far away, but I vaguely hear my screams as I come.
“That’s it, Emmerdeur, come all over me,” Arlo grunts through my orgasm haze.
Before I can register what’s happening, he pulls out of me completely and yanks me off of the bench. I barely have the strength to stand up, but he spins me around and pushes on my back, folding me over the bench.
I whimper at the loss of him, but he wastes no time.
He slams back into me, and my hips jolt into the metal bench. The pain mixed with this dominating version of Arlo has my lower stomach tightening.
Moaning, I slap my hand against the table.
“You are so goddamn beautiful.” He groans as he grips my hips, pulling them back a little so they don’t slam against the table with every thrust. “Your pretty pussy was made for me. Say it,” he demands.
“My pussy was made for you.” I cry out as he hits a spot I’ve only heard of.
“No one else will fuck you like I do. You hear me? No one else will give you what you need.” He grunts as his grip tightens, and I know he’s close.
The words mixed with him hitting the spot that feels so damn good lift me on my toes as I come again.
“God, yes,” he grinds out before he pulls out, and I feel wetness coating my clit and the surrounding area .
It’s then I realize he wasn’t wearing a condom like he has been, and a brief moment of disappointment that he didn’t come inside of me hits me out of nowhere.
It feels like he comes forever, and it’s just as sexy as him actually fucking me.
He collapses over my back, sliding his hand up my arm and intertwining our fingers.
Pressing a kiss to my shoulder blade, he pants until his breathing finally settles.
“I didn’t intend for this to happen,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Me neither, but I can’t say I’m mad about it.” I chuckle as much as I can with his weight pressing down on me.
He sighs like he’s reluctant to say something, and I decide to wait him out.
“I didn’t bring a condom with me. I’m sorry I put you in that position,” he says softly after a few minutes.
“Don’t wear one,” I say simply. “There’s nothing to worry about on my end.” I don’t know where this is all coming from, but I know this entire day changed everything for me somehow.
I want Arlo.
I know it will take more than spontaneous sexcapades in the middle of the day to get us to a point where we can move forward.
But I’m ready to forgive him.
I’m ready to move forward with him.
“Rina…” he draws out.
“You wouldn’t have put me in a dangerous position if there was something to worry about. And I…” I pause, attempting to figure out how to put how I’m feeling in words. “I don’t want anyone else. Things won’t change overnight, but I just want you.” My words are whispered at the end, scared of how he’ll respond.
He abruptly stands up, dragging me with him before spinning me around.
“You mean that?” The hope in his eyes makes my answer easier than I could have ever imagined.
“With every beat of my brittle heart.”
He cups my jaw with his callused palms and kisses me like I just made all his dreams come true.