Scarred: Sailor’s Grave #3

by Elyse, Drew

  There was no preamble, just him climbing on top of me and sliding right in.

  “So fucking ready for me,” he praised.

  I was. I was so ready, I worried I wouldn’t last long.

  In another few strokes, I knew I was right. He felt too good. The way his cock stretched me, the way his weight blanketed me, the way his hands held me tight. I was speeding toward it faster than I ever had.

  “Fuck,” he grunted into my neck. “You’re already close.” The pleasure in those words washed away any embarrassment I might have felt at how aware of that he was. “Let go and come. I’ll get you there again.”

  It didn’t take long before I was doing as he said. He didn’t let up as I orgasmed, or as I came back down. He didn’t let up at all even as he built me back up again to the point that I had my face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound of my moaning.

  His hand went into my hair, digging his fingers into my curls before yanking just enough to make me turn my head.

  “I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make for me.”

  He did then, when those words and his unrelenting thrusts made me moan long and loud again.

  I hadn’t expected this from him. The control he took was surprising enough, but the way he talked shocked me to my core—and did a lot more pleasant things besides. For such a quiet guy, he had plenty to say when he was taking me.

  I was coming again. I couldn’t believe he’d done it so fast, but I couldn’t deny it. And Park could feel it approaching.

  “That’s it, my beauty,” he encouraged, taking me faster still.

  There was no holding it back. The second orgasm slammed into me, drowning me in pleasure. I cried out Park’s name as his thrusts became jerky. He let out a low groan that I swore I could feel vibrate right down his cock.

  We collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t think I was capable of moving after that.

  I barely had it in me to ask, “How do you do that?”

  He chuckled, and I wondered if it was weird to take so much joy in making him laugh after both times we’d had sex. But I did.

  “Gorgeous, that’s all you.”

  I snorted, not caring if it wasn’t sexy. He could say what he wanted, but I’d never had anything like what he gave me.

  All me, my ass.

  “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you pick?”

  It was hours later. In that time, we’d managed to doze off, have sex again, shower, and migrate our way to the couch. There, with Parker in just a pair of boxers and me in one of his shirts—no underwear, per his demand—we’d been lazing the day away.

  Usually, spending all day horizontal was something I’d only do if I was too sick to help it. I’d always been the type who would find something to do. Cleaning, baking, running errands that weren’t all that important. A whole day of nothing made me restless.

  Right then, with Park lying flat, my body half draped across his, half between him and the back of the couch, and with his fingers trailing whisper-soft all over my skin, drawing invisible patterns all over, I had no desire to move at all.

  “Feeling pretty good here,” he answered, his hand mischievously moving down to grab my butt.

  Mischievous Park was new. There’d been hints of it already mixed with his dominant streak in sex, but I’d been getting more tastes of it all day, mostly when he didn’t want to keep his hands off of me. I wasn’t complaining one bit.

  “Besides here,” I said on an eye roll.

  He turned his head, pressing a kiss on the top of mine, then answered, “Australia, maybe. Or New Zealand.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. They just seem interesting.”

  I got the sense he wasn’t being withholding, he simply didn’t have a concrete answer, so I let that be enough. After all, he was going along with my string of questions, so long as he got my answers, too. I hadn’t delved deep, but it felt like progress over our one-for-one.

  “I’d go to Ireland.”

  “Why?” he shot back.

  “I guess it’s interested me for a long time. We had to do one of those projects on where our family was from when I was a kid. I did Ireland because we had Irish blood on both sides of the family. It wasn’t like I grew up with any traditions from Ireland or anything, just that learning about it from that project, seeing all the beautiful countryside, it stuck with me.”

  He nodded. I’d realized as we’d done this that one thing I’d always liked about talking to Park was that he could be quiet, he could not respond verbally to things often, but that didn’t mean he didn’t give something. He hadn’t just laid there leaving me to wonder if he was listening or not. Sometimes it wasn’t a nod. It could be a look, or a squeeze of the arm he had around me. He had a myriad of ways of communicating that he cared about what I had to say.

  “Can I ask about your family’s background?”

  I didn’t want it to come off as a demand. Asking anyone about their ethnicity should be broached with respect. That it was also innately a question about family, a topic Park had been cagey about all along, only added to that. I wanted to push like Carson had told me, wanted to know more about him, but I wouldn’t bulldoze my way in.

  “I get the question a lot,” he began. I was sure he did. Some of it was probably innocent curiosity, but I was sure there were others who asked with hate behind the words. The thought alone had my blood heating.

  Park went on. “I don’t know. Not the kind of thing that was talked about growing up. Never saw my dad myself. Only clues I’ve got there is my mom had no problem throwing around the N-word when referring to him, so I can guess he was at least part black and where I inherited some of that from. She didn’t talk about her family, but I know I get some Asian blood from her. That’s all I’ve got to go on.”

  It was the first time he’d so much as mentioned his parents. I’d wondered at times if he’d ever known either of them. What I was getting from that story, a mother that would throw a word like that around when it was the kind of vitriol that could be thrown at her own son, didn’t seem promising.

  Not wanting to go too far, not on our first day as the us we were building, not when he’d willingly offered up that much, I steered us away from the darkness lingering there.

  “Well, I know one thing,” I said, kissing across one pec.

  “Oh?”

  “Wherever it all comes from, you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

  His eyes were heated, voice low when he replied, “You think so?”

  I nodded against his chest, sliding more on top of him as I traced the tattoos that covered it with my tongue.

  His hands came into my hair, pulling the short length of it into his fists as best he could.

  “Why don’t you show me?”

  Everything in me flushed, that heat scorching between my legs. “Show you?”

  He applied the faintest pressure to that hold on my hair, his hips rolling up a touch. “Show me,” he repeated.

  Taking his hint, I kissed my way down his stomach, my hand already teasing over his hard cock through his boxers. I was more than happy to show him. In fact, I’d been waiting for my chance.

  I took my time making my way down, pulling away the fabric. A little retribution for his torture the night before.

  “Gwen,” he growled when I’d freed him, but still only ran my fingers along the length.

  I bit back my smile. I wasn’t done yet.

  Lowering my head, I ran my tongue from the tip down to the base. His hold on my hair tightened until it stung a bit, but it only made me feel more powerful.

  “Beautiful.” It was a warning, but I knew it was an empty one.

  I continued to tease him, lavishing attention on his cock and balls with my hands, my lips, my tongue, but never taking him inside. Even as his cock jerked and leaked pre-cum, I didn’t stop.

  “Goddamn it, Gwen,” he groaned, his voice agony and ecstasy in equal measure.

  “W
hat?”

  “You know what.”

  I swirled my tongue over the head, eliciting a low moan. “Do I?”

  His head was thrown back, his whole body tight. I was in complete command of him, and it was heady. He wasn’t the only one that could take control.

  Only then, when I knew I had every bit of his mind and body, did I give him what he wanted.

  I sucked him deep, no longer holding back at all. Giving him everything until he came.

  And then Park returned the favor.

  It was the best day off I’d ever had.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Park

  “Excuse me?”

  I knew I shouldn’t have asked her. This was a mistake. A big mistake.

  “I’ll ask Liam,” I muttered, but Jess jumped out of her chair like I was going to run.

  “You will not!” She scrambled around her desk and smacked me on the arm.

  “What the fuck?”

  She was staring at me like I was the one acting like a lunatic when Liam came strolling up anyway.

  “What’s got her all riled up?”

  It was directed to me, but Jess answered for herself. “He just asked me for a good restaurant to take a date.”

  Liam didn’t flip out, which proved me right. I should have just asked him right off.

  “Morelli’s,” he answered. “Quiet, food’s great. Best place in town.”

  Danny popped up in his station, in the middle of a tattoo. “Did I hear Morelli’s? We going? Because I am so in.”

  “Park’s looking for a good date spot,” Liam explained, and I was trying to figure out when my simple fucking question turned this place into a three-ring circus.

  “Definitely Morelli’s, man,” Danny agreed. “Even if the girl isn’t into pasta, they’ve got a bunch of options. Mom even loves the salad when she’s on one of her diets. But get pasta. They make that shit in house. The best.”

  Morelli’s it was.

  “Butt out Danny!” Jess snapped, rounding on me and Liam. “Are we seriously just going to ignore the elephant in the room?”

  I was thinking then it was a good thing my beauty didn’t have Jess’s flair for dramatics. Gwen could ramble, but she was pretty relaxed in general. That suited me better.

  When no one answered her, Jess pressed, “Who exactly are you going on a date with?”

  “Gwen.” Even I heard the pride in my voice. I didn’t want the attention, but I’d tell anyone that wanted to know that she was with me.

  “Congrats,” Liam offered. “She’s cute. Kate really liked her.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jess’s eyes bugged out, her mouth gaping, but she didn’t say anything. She did look like she was going to pass out, though.

  “You okay?”

  “You are going on a date with Gwen,” she stated, her voice surprisingly calm.

  “Right.”

  “When the fuck did this happen?” she demanded.

  “Saturday.”

  “It’s Wednesday!”

  She really needed to stop screeching, but there was no way in hell I was saying that.

  I didn’t bother confirming the obvious. She didn’t need me to, anyway. After a second, another thing occurred to her. “You guys were at my place Saturday.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what, you just didn’t say anything?” The way she said it made it sound like I’d kept the fact that I has a terminal illness from her.

  “No, it happened after.”

  “How?”

  I wasn’t getting into Gwen’s personal shit with her, and I definitely wasn’t talking about everything that happened after. “Not going there.”

  “Come on. You have to give me something.”

  I didn’t say a thing, which was all she needed.

  She rubbed at her forehead. “Okay. Fine. And you haven’t mentioned it the last to days because?”

  Mostly because I knew she was going to flip out like this.

  “It didn’t come up.”

  “Because you didn’t bring it up!”

  I noticed then that Liam was moving away. It was smart. He didn’t need to be in the middle of this.

  Dropping my voice so my business wasn’t open for everyone in the damn shop, I told her, “It’s new. It’s good, but it’s new and complicated by the fact that we already live together. I’m sunk enough into her as it is, I don’t need to get everyone involved in that too soon and mess this up.”

  Some of her frustration melted away, but not all of it. “I wouldn’t mess this up for you, Park.”

  “I knew that.” At least with Gwen. Jess liked her. I also knew Jess wouldn’t hesitate to insert herself into my shit if she felt she had cause to, so it was a risk I hadn’t felt the need to take. I’d hoped asking her about a restaurant would be quick and uneventful. Which was stupid of me.

  “For the record, the jackasses are right. Take her to Morelli’s. She wasn’t all awkward about eating last weekend, so she’ll love the pasta if she hasn’t been. If she has, everyone loves Morelli’s.”

  “Thanks.”

  I was going to head back to my station when she added, “I better see more of her with you soon. I didn’t get to talk to her much on Saturday.”

  Meaning her interrogation hadn’t been thorough enough.

  “Soon.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know you’re lying. Get away from my desk.”

  Later that night, I walked into Morelli’s with my arm around a smiling Gwen. She was wearing a teal dress that dipped low enough in the front that I was contemplating taking her with it on when we got home.

  “You know, you didn’t have to take me out,” she said as she went through the door I held open for her. “I think the last few days have shown I’m a pretty sure thing.”

  The last few days had shown me we couldn’t keep our fucking hands off of each other. It’d been fine on Sunday when we’d had time to spend together between rounds of sex when we were both recovering, but work meant most of our time together since had been entirely in bed. Tonight, I was going to show her a good time before I took her back home and got another taste.

  I tucked her back into my side and she snickered at her own joke.

  “This is my favorite restaurant, though.”

  “Good.”

  We made our way up to the hostess, who I gave my name for the reservation. I saw her look at both of us before dropping her attention to her screen to check us in, but it was when her head came back up that I noticed it. As she listed her head, her eyes went directly to Gwen’s face. The right side of her face.

  Then, as she said, “Right this way,” and led us back, she didn’t look Gwen’s way again.

  It rubbed me the wrong way, so I kept my eyes peeled after I pulled out Gwen’s chair and she sat. Sure enough, even when the hostess handed her the menu and told us our server would be right with us, she very obviously avoided looking directly at Gwen.

  I didn’t avoid it, I focused right on my beauty when the woman walked away. She was looking over the menu but must have felt my attention. She smiled at me, and I set that bullshit aside.

  “Have you been here before?”

  “No. Everyone at worked recommended it when I asked,” I explained.

  “Everyone?”

  “Felt like it, at least.” I gave her the basic play-by-play and she laughed. Funny how her enjoying it made the whole scene less annoying.

  Our waiter came, introducing himself and asking for our drink orders. When Gwen ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio, I told him to bring the bottle.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “One glass is good for me. You should order whatever you want.”

  I ignored her and reiterate for him to bring the bottle, which he did and poured the first glasses for us while we both looked over the menu. I was glad to see he, at least, didn’t react to her outside the normal interaction.

  “What are you thinking?” Gwen asked.

 
“Not sure.”

  “Me either. It’s always such a toss-up. Both the tagliatelle and the bucatini are amazing. I can never decide between them.” She rolled her lips together, glancing down at the menu like it might make the hard decision for her.

  “Get both.”

  Her eyes widened. “The portions here are huge. It’d take me a week to eat both.”

  I shrugged. Then she’d eat good for a week. I didn’t see the problem.

  “Do you want any appetizers?” I asked instead.

  “The burrata is fantastic. They make it in house, same with the bread they serve with it. The arancini are incredible, too. But I’m good with just pasta.”

  I didn’t know if this need to be accommodating was a first date nervousness thing, or something that she hadn’t had the occasion to display yet, but I was going to have to get her to break the habit. I wasn’t in the position to be going out every night and getting a bottle of wine with it, and wouldn’t even if I was. However, on a special night, which this damn well was, she was going to need to get used to being treated well.

  When our waiter came back, I let her order first. She went for the bucatini.

  “And for you, sir?”

  “The tagliatelle. And we’ll start with the burrata and arancini.”

  Gwen opened her mouth like she might protest, but I stopped her with a look.

  “Excellent. I’ll get that in to the kitchen and be back shortly.”

  When he was gone, she reached her hands across the table and said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  I took them in mine and told her straight up, “My beauty gets what she wants.”

  Her eyes dropped, a smile spreading across her lips. She’d need to get used to that, too. She had no reason to be shy about me calling her exactly what she was. I didn’t call her out for it. She’d get there.

  Dinner was great.

  I didn’t mean the food. The food was good, some of the best I’d had, but that didn’t factor.