Falcon (Own the Skies Book 3)

by Emma Nichole

  “So wet. So fucking perfect,” he tells me, and I bask in his compliments. They make me want to nuzzle into him like a puppy that’s been told she’s a good girl.

  I can feel the familiar tingle building in my belly, but it’s different this time. More intense.

  And when he grazes that special spot deep within me, I dig my nails into the skin of his wrists and arch my back, chasing a new orgasm that is cresting the peak.

  “I’m going to come. I’m coming,” I tell him.

  He picks up his pace.

  Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam.

  Faster and faster until…

  “OHHHH MY GOD!” I scream, shaking from the tip of my head all the way to my toes.

  He moves once, twice, then stills, buried deep inside of me.

  “Christ, Faith…fuck,” he moans quietly.

  I can feel him twitching with each wave as he fills the condom.

  He drops down with his head on my chest, careful not to put his entire weight on me, and just listens to the sound of my beating heart.

  “That was…” I say, sliding my hands through his sweaty hair.

  “So good, and I have a feeling, we are never going to stop.”

  ***

  It’s dark in my bedroom, nearly pitch-black, except for the blue tint of the moon coming through my window. Sometimes a cloud will cover it though, sending us into a rich darkness that reminds me of times when I would build a blanket fort as a little girl. I’d lay in there for hours and read until it was too dark to see anymore, and only then would I go to sleep.

  I’m curled on my side now though, staring at the beautiful man sleeping beside me.

  Falcon is on his back with an arm swung up behind his head, only my white sheets covering him from the waist down. His face is so soft looking right now in this relaxed state of sleep. He’s finally at ease and there isn’t that wrinkle between his eyebrows like he’s in deep thought. His lips are slightly parted, and I can hear each breath he takes. It’s soothing. Like a lullaby.

  I take this moment of privacy to really look at him. Not that I haven’t before, but it’s different when someone is asleep beside you. He has those muscles, the V, that apparently drives women beyond control, and I see why. It takes everything I have not to lean over and lick it just because I can.

  He hasn’t shaved since he’s been in Savannah, I don’t think, because the scruff that was present the first day I met him is blooming into a beard, and I rub my thighs together, feeling the burn of the scratches it left behind.

  There’s no hair on his chest, but there’s a line of it that runs from his navel down below the sheet. Now I know why they call it a happy trail.

  His arm that is closest to me is bent at the elbow and his hand is flat across his abdomen, giving me a full, unobstructed view of his tattoo.

  I can see clearly now it’s a dragon. Not in the style of an Asian dragon, but more medieval. Like Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings. The head is resting on the top, rounded part of his shoulder near his collarbone, while the wings spread over his bicep and the tail wraps around, coming to an end on his outer forearm. It’s a beautiful piece and must have taken forever. Before I even realize it, I’m reaching out to trace the lines with my forefinger.

  His skin is warm, and so much softer than you’d think. It’s tanned from riding his motorcycle in the California sun and it smells rich, like his bodywash. My finger glides over the darker areas near the top and I can feel the raised skin of a scar. I want his story. I want to know everything about him.

  He’s this perfect blend of harsh, soft, tender, and rough. I’m so fucked.

  I walk my fingers along the dragon’s wing and he stirs, causing me to pause.

  “You’re staring at me.” His voice is slightly hoarse with sleep.

  “I’m touching you too,” I whisper.

  “Creep.” He chuckles and rolls toward me, placing his large hand on the small of my back and hauling me into his chest. “Can’t sleep?”

  I tuck my head under his chin and nuzzle in, getting comfortable, and he grips the back of my thigh to drape my whole leg over his hip, so we can be even closer. In this position, I can feel his heart beating against mine.

  “I’m not a good sleeper. I never have been,” I tell him.

  “Me neither, really.”

  “You seemed to be sleeping perfectly fine a few minutes ago, until I woke you up with my secret touching.” I lay my hand on his ribcage.

  “Maybe I was exhausted because a little blonde-haired pixie wore me out.”

  I just scoff, and he rewards me with a laugh.

  “I feel relaxed with you, Faith.” I can feel him shrug. “I don’t know; I was just able to sleep. I’m not complaining or questioning it.”

  He feels comfortable enough around me, and in my home, that he was able to sleep without issue? I don’t know why, but this makes my stomach and my heart do backflips.

  “Well, my bed is always open for your sleeping needs.”

  “What about other needs? Is that up for negotiation?” His hand eases down my back to grip curve of my ass and squeeze.

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  “Yesss,” he growls, before gripping my hair with his other hand and tugging my head back, forcing me to look up at him. I can just make out the shape of his face in the darkness; the moon isn’t giving me enough light to see any more.

  I grip one of his arms with each of my hands, and I feel the roughness of his scar once again.

  “Why the dragon?” I ask, and this causes him to pull back just a bit, as if he needs a bit of space to even begin to answer.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just like dragons.”

  I tilt my head to the side and shake it. “No one gets a huge tattoo on their body without a story behind it.”

  He eases my leg down from his hip and rolls over to his back once again, and I am instantly cold, missing the heat of his body.

  Have I upset him? Is the tattoo a sore subject?

  I’m about to tell him forget it, that it’s not my business…and then he begins talking.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard from Nora that our parents died when we were young. I was a teenager, fourteen, and Nora was just a kid…ten. The apartment we were living in caught on fire. Hell, to this fucking day, I still don’t even know exactly what happened. All I know is that we acted fast, we did everything right…”

  “Falcon, we don’t have to talk about this,” I tell him, placing a hand on his chest, which he tops with one of his own.

  “You asked why the dragon, and I want to tell you.”

  “Okay,” I say simply, letting him continue on with his story.

  “We did everything right. We got out safely, all of us, together, but my father heard screaming from inside the building. He was a cop. I guess it’s in their blood to help when someone is in need.” He shrugs. “He ran back into the building, and my mom went after him. I tried to go too, but I didn’t get close enough before one of my neighbors, I don’t even remember which one, wrapped me up in his arms and physically pulled me back. I fought, God, did I fight him. Screaming for my mom and dad. Hearing Nora’s screams mixing with the roar of the fire. I fought him to the ground and landed on a curb that was nearby. Sliced my arm up pretty good.”

  Tears are rolling down my face as I listen. All I want to do is go back and hold little Falcon in my arms and tell him everything is going to be okay.

  “When I was old enough, and had enough money saved up for myself, I got the tattoo. One, to cover the scar that would always remind me of that night, and two…a dragon, because that is the source of fire, isn’t it? They have ultimate control. Fire cannot hurt them because they are fire. A little tribute to my parents, I guess.”

  “Falcon,” I whisper through tears, sniffing a little so I can speak, “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. It’s okay.” He runs his hand over my hip, letting his thumb trace my scars.

  “What happen
ed to you, Faith?”

  This isn’t something I want to talk about or something I relish talking about in the least.

  “Falcon...”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I can see by the way you’re trying to look anywhere but my face; it’s something that is hard for you. I just want to know you, Faith. Your story.”

  I lean forward and bury my face in his chest before turning my cheek over his heart. I will need that steady sound as my talisman to keep my feet firmly on the ground as I tell this story.

  My brain is screaming at me, telling me not to say anything. That this doesn’t matter.

  It didn’t really happen.

  Move on.

  Move on.

  Don’t relive it.

  But I feel his gentle caress of my back, and I hear the steady thump of his heart, and I know I trust him.

  “It was my sophomore year of college up in Nashville. Football season, of course, was a huge event there, so any time we had a game, there was a big party afterward, win or lose. Losing just meant everyone was angrier and drunker.”

  “Ah yes,” he says now sliding his nails over my spine gently. “The dreaded losing team depression. Been there.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.

  “Haven’t we all?” I ask, trying so hard to force a smile, to force levity into the situation before I continue. “Anyway, I was at this post-game party at a fraternity house on campus. I’d been to many of them before. They were normally very controlled and fun. I guess this time some fraternity brothers who had graduated years ago were in town. They stopped by…and the party got significantly more out of hand.”

  I can tell by the way his muscles tense, he may have an idea of where this story is going.

  “This guy…I don’t remember his name…I don’t even know if I ever knew it, really, he was nice to me. We talked and danced. I shouldn’t have. I was so young, barely twenty years old, but I had been drinking.” I shrug as if that is a good enough reason for any decision.

  He doesn’t interrupt me. He doesn’t speak. He simply lets me word vomit all of this out. Purging the story like it burns me.

  “I don’t remember much after my third beer. It’s very hazy, but I have flashes of memories.” I swallow, closing my eyes as I continue. “A bed that smelled like cigarettes and this man on top of me. He was holding my hips so tightly that his nails broke the skin. There were deep, awful gashes from his nails, at least that’s what the doctor told me.”

  His hands completely still now. He’s frozen.

  “I was weak. I think I tried to push him off, but he hit me.” I touch my jaw where I remember his slap landing. “He raped me.”

  As soon as the words leave my lips, Falcon unwinds his body from mine and rolls away, climbing from the bed with his hands fisted into balls at his side.

  I reach out to touch him, to pull him back, to beg him to not let this ruin the night we are having, but he pulls back, leaving me with the familiar sting of rejection.

  “Don’t.”

  That single word from his lips makes my heart ache deep in my chest.

  I pull the sheet up over my breasts, suddenly feeling so exposed and so embarrassed. I move to the opposite side of the bed and sit along the edge with my feet touching the floor and my back to him.

  I close my eyes, gathering up the courage to tell him to just go, but I don’t get a chance. Before the words can form in my throat, I hear his loud, thudding walk around the bed and he drops to his knees before me, wrapping his arms around my torso, and dropping his forehead right on my stomach.

  “Faith, I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “What? I thought…I thought you were angry, like you were grossed out by me,” I say, my hands still clutching the sheet at my chest.

  He lifts his face to mine and is looking at me like I’ve sprouted an extra nose. “What?”

  “The way you got up and wouldn’t let me touch you. I just thought…”

  “No,” he says before I can finish. “I had to move away from you because I was fucking angry that someone could ever hurt you like that. I needed space to process that because I wanted to break something.” He lifts his hands to hold my face between them. “I would never be turned off by anything that happened to you in your past. Never. Especially not something like that.”

  I let go of the sheet and it drops just a bit, caught by the roundness of my breasts, and place my hands over his. “You have no idea how many people have essentially told me otherwise.”

  “Let’s hope I never meet them.”

  I lean forward to press my forehead into his. “I think I really like you.” I don’t know why I feel the need to tell him, but my heart is bursting with this newly realized information.

  “What a coincidence.” He tips my face up and leans back a bit to see my eyes. “I think I really like you too.”

  He places a kiss perfectly on my lips.

  It begins just as that, a chaste, gentle kiss, but as with every spark, there is the potential for a fire.

  The kiss builds, a glisten here, a twinkle there, until I’m flat on my back with his strong body hovering over mine. He gives my bottom lip a suck and bite, tugging it a bit before letting it plop back into place.

  “While I would love to stay right here.” He kisses my chin. “And fuck you into oblivion again.” He kisses my neck. “The collective sound our of stomachs growling tells me…” He kisses the space between my breasts. “…we need food.”

  I open my mouth to object, to tell him forget food and screw me instead, but my stomach makes its empty presence very known with a loud gurgle and groan.

  “Oh. My. God.” I cover my belly with both hands and he just laughs.

  “Come on.” He pulls me up to sit before continuing up to my feet on the floor. “We’ll refuel…then I’ll have you again. Deal?”

  “What if I want to have YOU again?” I place my hands on my hips.

  “Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’ll happily oblige to that.”

  Falcon

  To say this girl—no—this woman, seeps strength and courage from her pores is the understatement of the century.

  Hearing her story sent me through a myriad of emotions.

  First, anger. I wanted to break the arms off of whomever did this to her and beat him to death with them, after slicing off his cock and forcing it down his own throat. And not just because he hurt her…I want to do this to any man who harms a woman.

  Second, curiosity. I had so many goddamn questions. How is she okay now? How badly was she hurt? Where is he? Is he in jail?

  And finally, protectiveness. I want to wrap her up in my arms and make her promises that I will keep her safe from any and every thing that could ever harm her. I fucking hardly know this woman, and I already want to promise her more than I’ve promised anyone.

  And because of that, I am going to keep things as normal as possible. She was afraid what she told me would make me leave…and I need her to know that’s so far from the truth.

  So…a few hours later as the sun began to rise…breakfast.

  “I’m mildly offended Nora never told you about my chocolate chip French toast,” I say, as I pour a bit of milk into a bowl. “She should be shouting this shit from the rooftops.”

  “You’re lucky I had everything in the house you need to make it. You’ve talked such a big game this morning, that I need it right now.” She hops up onto the counter beside me, dressed in only my T-shirt and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “You’ll be extra lucky if you get them at all, looking the way you do right now.”

  “And how is it that I look right now, exactly?”

  I leave the bowl where it is and step between her legs, sliding my hands up her outer thighs. “Good enough to fucking eat.” I lean in and devour those plump, kiss-swollen lips of hers.

  She melts into my touch and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in even closer.

  As soon
as my tongue makes contact with hers, she pulls away, much to my chagrin.

  “First, we eat. Then, we shower, because you, sir, are sweaty. Then, we can kiss more,” she says sweetly.

  “How about we eat, then we can fool around on this counter here, then I can fuck you in the shower…then we can kiss more?” I yank her ass to the very edge of the counter.

  “Depends on how good this French toast is, I suppose.” She scrunches her nose at me and gives a nonchalant shoulder shrug.

  Christ, she’s perfect. I want to eat her alive.

  “I’ll have you know, I have no doubt, one-hundred-percent, cocky as fuck confidence that this will be the best damn thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

  She snickers, clearly catching the naughty joke that could be made there, so I continue, “Actually, I’ll add…for now.”

  “For now?”

  “Yeah, because once you suck my cock, that will take the top spot.”

  She covers her mouth with her hand and holds in a laugh. I’m curious as to why, but it becomes crystal clear the minute the most adorable little snort echoes from her body, which only makes her laugh even harder.

  “Did you just snort at me?” I ask with a huge grin.

  She nods her head then laughs some more before speaking through giggles, “I’m sorry. I just, wow, you really said that, didn’t you?” Her cheeks are flushed red like she’s been outside on a crisp winter morning.

  “I did, and clearly you found it amusing.” I cross my arms and lean against her counter.

  “It was just so,” she pauses as if searching for the right word and she clearly finds it, “cheesy and it caught me off guard.”

  “I’ll have you know, I pride myself on being the king of cheesy lines.”

  “So you’re saying you’ve used that line before?”

  “No, baby, I saved that one special. Just for you.” I tap the tip of her nose, but she catches my hand swiftly, lacing our fingers together.

  “I’m honored.” She brings our linked hands to her lips and places a kiss to my knuckle. “And now I’m starving so…chop-chop.”