Chapter 42 #2
Ten minutes later, I'm debating whether to go into the store and check on him.
I don't know how long it takes to buy a couple of things, but it feels like he's been in there forever.
My fingers tap out a rhythm on the steering wheel, a hint of remorse for sending him alone starting to churn in my gut.
Just as I'm reaching for the door handle, he steps out into the sun, holding the bag up like he just won a prize.
"I was about to go in and look for you," I tell him as he climbs into the passenger seat.
"New cashier," he replies. "Poor girl won't last long if she can't figure it out."
I back out of the parking lot, my nerves trying to get the best of me as we get closer to the hotel.
"Casper told me that we have open-ended return flights," he says as I turn into the parking lot of the airport hotel."
"Tomorrow," I tell him. "I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
If he weren't here right now, I'd be at the ticket counter trying to fly out this evening.
"You can leave so soon?" he asks.
"I can take care of everything via email and phone calls."
"You know Mom has friends who work in antiques. I bet she has a contact that can take over the sale of everything in the house and get top dollar for it."
"I may do that," I tell him as I unclick my seatbelt. "Ready?"
He tilts his head, hand working deftly to unlatch his own seatbelt.
"Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous."
"I don't want to mess up," I confess.
"You won't," he assures me.
"No pressure," I mutter as I climb out of the truck, meeting him near the hood.
"I'll walk you through it," he says with a wink before we set off for the front door.
I feel like a virgin on prom night as we climb onto the elevator, my hand shaking slightly as I select the fourth floor button.
I'm both excited and more than a little nervous.
I want this more than anything, but not having gone this far with anyone makes me take pause.
Not because I think I'll have regrets, but because I lack the experience to make it good for my partner.
We're met with the low hum of the air conditioner as we step into the room, and I can feel the excitement flowing through Zayne as he pulls his purchases from the plastic bag and sets them on the bedside table.
"Lube, condoms, and a couple of Snickers bars?" I ask. "That's all we need?"
"Well," he says, turning back to face me. "The condoms are up to you, and the candy bars are for a snack after."
I scrunch my nose. "I never thought the candy bars were for anything other than that."
He shrugs. "Different strokes for different folks."
His smile is wide as he steps up to me, his arms going around my waist.
Now this feels natural, his proximity, and how much I ache to be even closer, skin touching skin.
"The condoms?" I whisper.
"How do you feel about them?"
I swallow, giving my head a little shake. "It's up to you."
He chews the corner of his lower lip, eyes locked onto mine.
"I don't see a need. You?"
I shake my head.
"Speak your truth," he whispers.
"I want to feel everything," I confess.
"Me, too."
"We can wait," I repeat, needing this experience to be the best it can be for both of us. As badly as I want it, I don't want to look back on this and remember the pain he was in. If it takes weeks of healing for us to have that, then I'd be more than happy to wait.
"Do you want to?" he asks, his body tensing as if he's going to take a step back.
"No," I tell him. "But I only want to go forward if you're sure you'll be alright."
"I know you realized at the same time I did that a little pain is a turn on for me."
"But like kinky pain," I argue. "Not pain from a beating you took a couple of days ago."
"True," he says, his fingers working their way under my t-shirt. "So just be gentle."
"That feels good," I moan as his hands work over my torso, fingers tracing my muscles.
I lift my arms over my head, letting him tug my shirt off.
His hands immediately go back to my skin, my muscles bunching under his attention.
My cock thickens in my jeans, and I absently wonder if there will ever come a time in our relationship when my body doesn't respond so quickly to such a simple touch.
I doubt it ever will. My skin is on fire for this man, an urgency I know I'll have to keep under control until his injuries are fully healed.
His eyes stay on mine as he works my belt open, his hand slipping behind the denim of my jeans before he even pulls the zipper down.
I groan with pleasure as his fingers wrap around my cock.
"That's fucking perfect." His words are a purr, slipping past lips I wish were planted on mine.
We press our foreheads together, looking down at his working hand.
The tip of my cock glistens with need, the sound of him licking his lips a cue to my body that this is going to be the beginning of a lifetime of pleasure.
The rasp of my zipper fills the room, my cock aching with even more need than relief as it's given more freedom.
"No," I tell him when he moves as if he's going to sink to his knees and take me in his mouth.
"Frankie," he growls, giving my cock a tight squeeze. "If you say one more thing about my injuries or not wanting to hurt me, I'm going to-"
"I'll come the second you put your mouth on me," I interrupt. "I won't be able to help it."
His eyes search mine as if he's trying to tell if I'm lying or not.
"I swear. I'm already so wound up. Aw, fuck," I groan, my head tilting back, eyes fluttering closed as his hand works down the length of me. "That's going to get me there too quickly, as well."
Then my cock is just hanging there, all attention gone.
"What?" I say, rolling my head forward and looking at him.
"That's not how this ends," he says, taking a step back and lifting his arms over his head.
I read him clearly. We know what we both want, and it isn't blow jobs or hand jobs.
I keep my eyes on him because I know what I'll see if I look down. The bruises marking his skin would take me right out of this moment, the anger would be enough for me to want to get a plane ticket tonight just to burn the fucking compound to the ground.
If the men in that room with him didn't have guns and engage with us when we entered, I don't know if I wouldn't have had to have the same conversation with Kincaid that Nyx had.
One look at this man in that chair, blood oozing from several cuts, eyes swollen, and bruises over every visible inch, I knew they wouldn't walk out of there.
"Stop," he says, pulling me from that horrific moment. "Don't get lost in that shit right now."
I pull in a deep breath and let my hands work to get his shirt off. I don't pay his body the same attention he paid to mine, partly out of regret and sympathy, and partly because I want him so badly. A rush of urgency builds inside me.
As if he knows I need something I can't seem to voice, he steps in closer, his lips pressing to mine.
My head clears, my mind devoid of anything other than this moment.
I work his jeans open, my hand seeking his cock and finding it easily. He moans into my mouth, and the sound lands right in the middle of me, my own cock jerking with anticipation.
The next few moments are spent kissing and working our clothes off, and as much as I need this from him, there's still a hesitancy when he pulls me toward the bed.
"We're good," he assures me, his breath warm on my lips.
I lay him down gently, and I can tell by the look on his face that he isn't impressed with the ease I'm showing.
"There will come a time when I throw you on the fucking bed, Zayne. Today isn't going to be one of them."
"Mmm. I like the sound of that. What else will you do when I'm fully healed?" he asks, reaching for the lube.
"I'll bend you over in the shower," I say, stroking his cock. "What are you doing?"
He doesn't stop pouring lube on his cock.
"I had other plans for that," I say with a frown, inwardly wondering how fucking bad lube tastes.
His chuckle lightens the tension a little, and somehow it's exactly what we both need. "Do you think I can handle your mouth on me right now, either? Come here and kiss me."
I do as he asks, my mouth covering his as my hand works up and down his slick cock.
"Slower," he demands, my hand obeying before my mind can even decipher the words. "Do what you did in the shower."
I reposition, shifting my body off of him and lying to the side as he bends his knee, giving me access.
My hands roam down his sack, fingers seeking the tight heat of his body.
His moan has nothing to do with pain when I first breach him, cock jerking against his lower abdomen.
I ache to take him in my mouth, feel the pulse of his orgasm against my tongue.
"Aw fuck, just like that," he praises when I push in and pull out slowly.
My cock leaks against his thigh, and I swear that a few more minutes of this, and I could come without being touched. It doesn't keep me from grinding myself on his side, though.
"Give me more," he pants.
I pull out, pressing two fingers against him. There's more resistance, but his body gives me the access I'm requesting.
"Feel good?" I ask, the question breathy and full of desire.
"So good," he whispers. "So fucking good."
I work on him, mouth finding every inch I can reach in this position, his lips, his throat, his ear. I suck and nibble on all of it.
"I want to know what it feels like," I confess, watching the passion on his face.
His eyes snap open. "Don't say shit like that right now."
I hesitate, my hand stilling.
He reaches down, fingers wrapped around my wrist as he urges me to keep going. I press into him again, loving the way his eyes flutter as if he's struggling to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure he's feeling.
"I'll fucking come," he explains. "Just the idea of prepping you for my cock is enough."
I chuckle, licking up the side of his neck before giving it a little nibble.
"That'll make it happen, too," he warns. "I think I'm ready."
I laugh, the sound echoing around the room.
"Not a chance," I say when he tries to squirm away. "You're not ready."
"I am," he assures me.
"My cock is a lot bigger than two fucking fingers, Zayne."
His eyes soften when he looks at me, tongue licking his lower lip.
"And the burn is one of my favorite things."
I stop fighting him, but it's not at the realization that this is about to happen, that I'm about to put my cock inside of another man in a way I never have before.
Jealousy rages inside of me, knowing that he's experienced this with others before. I'm not exactly mad. I know he had a life while we were apart, but the regret is still very real for me. If I hadn't been such a coward back then, each other would've been all we ever experienced.
"Don't get lost in memories," he tells me, a gentle hand on my cheek.
It's all the redirection I need.
"How?" I ask. "I mean, what position is best?"
"I prefer being on top, hands on your chest, controlling your cock. I want to see the euphoria in your eyes when I sink down on you and take you all the way inside," he says, but the last couple of words are released on a sad sigh. "I don't think that's something I can manage."
"So, we wait," I say.
He shakes his head.
"Nope, not a fucking chance. We'll get to that. What's probably best right now is this."
He turns over, pressing his muscular ass to my cock.
This isn't what I had in mind.
"We can wait," I repeat.
He looks over his shoulder at me, a frown on his handsome face.
"Do you love me?"
He's asked this question more than once today, and I answer him with just as much assurance as I did before.
"With everything that I am."
"Then this isn't impersonal. This isn’t a way to avoid each other. We'll snuggle and say all the lovey-dovey stuff after we come."
I open my mouth to argue once again. Our first time should be magical.
"It will be magical," he says, making me realize I said it out loud.
When his hand reaches back and wraps around my cock, I know the argument is over.
I have to trust that his words are his truth, and he's okay with it going this way right now.
"That's fucking cold," I hiss, but my body lurches forward, sinking my cock further in his hand despite the cold lube coating it.
"Warm it up then," he says, the words sultry and full of his own need as he shifts his ass back even further, leg bending forward.
I attempt to get the head of my cock where it belongs, but find it difficult. Zayne doesn't hesitate to reach back, angling it perfectly before rolling his hips.
The head of my cock presses against him, my balls already tight.
"Jesus," I groan, my hips stalling.
"Further," he pants.
I give him what he demands, pressing my forehead to the back of his neck as I sink inside of him.
"This," I groan. "Is fucking life-changing."
"Jesus, you're big," he moans. "Fucking perfect."
I can't count the number of times I pictured this.
How many times have I tried to shove it out of my head and lost the battle?
I'm sure I've come a million times, stroking my own cock to the idea of what this would feel like to him, but it has nothing on the real fucking thing.
It's indescribable, the way it feels to have him wrapped around me this way.
"My cock," he whines with need.
I reach around his hip, hand clamping around his cock, and stroke him. The clench of his ass increases, the pleasure of it making my vision go a little blurry.
The man is fucking deadly, and if I have a choice when it's my time to leave this earth, this is exactly how I want to go.
"I can't," he mutters, and for a second I think he wants me to stop, but then his hand wraps around mine, urging me to grip him tighter.
I stroke the length of him, pressing in deeper with the up stroke and pulling back when I work my hand down the length of his cock.
"I'm sorry," he manages just as the first kick of his orgasm pulses in his cock.
"Fuck," I grunt, the pulsing clench of his orgasm taking my cock hostage. "Don't be. Jesus. Never in my fucking life."
My mouth hangs open, breaths uneven and erratic as he comes. It triggers my own orgasm, and it's the best thing that has ever happened to me. The regret with my inability to last longer is just a hint of my emotions right now.
I throb inside of him, years of unspent need satisfied with a handful of pulses inside of him.
Weakness works its way into my bones as if one orgasm can drain the life right out of me.
I press my lips to the base of his neck, my words a whisper against sweat-dampened skin.
"I'll get better."
"That was perfect," he vows. "So fucking perfect."
I smile, lips curving upward on his throat.
"I think I came as fast that time as the first time you ever touched me."
His laugh is tender, coated with his own exhaustion.
"I rode that high for weeks," he confesses. "I think I'll ride this high even longer."