Faster We Burn

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “I’m not going to fuck you, sweetheart.”

  “I know. I don’t want you to. I just want this. You and me with no space between us.”

  “No space.”

  He slid his tongue into my mouth and we tasted each other as our hands got to work removing our shirts. I went to take my glasses off, but he stopped me.

  “Leave them on. They’re sexy.”

  I smiled as we backed our way to my bed. I expected him to toss all the pillows off, but he picked me up and lay me back on them. My sports bra was absolutely hideous, but he didn’t seem to care, and it was gone soon enough, thanks to his nimble fingers. Unlike all the times before when we’d been naked and together, this time I wanted him to kiss me, to know me, and I wanted to know him.

  My hands gripped his arms and I kissed the ink on his tattoos, kissed his nipples and his hard stomach that quivered under my touch. Good. I wasn’t the only one that nearly lost their mind. Stryker was slow, which was agonizing. He left no inch of my skin untouched by his lips and fingers and I still had my shorts on.

  I was a quivering mess already and he’d barely made it down my neck. His lips painted my body with kisses, just kisses, but those were enough. I was burning for him and with him and under him.

  And then he took one of my nipples into his mouth and I moaned. He was making this all about me, and that wasn’t exactly fair, but I wasn’t really in a position to stop him. All I could do was hold on and wait my turn.

  Then he went down my stomach and pulled my shorts down, just a little and kissed the line of my underwear band and then backed off and went for my lips again before doing the same thing, tugging them down just a little more.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I said as he moved his way back up to my lips.

  “Patience, sweetheart. I’m going to make this last.”

  Fuck patience.

  I went for his belt before he could stop me, getting it undone and slipping my fingers under the elastic of his boxers. Ha. Two could play that game.

  I watched his face with satisfaction as his eyes closed and he bit the corner of his lip like he did when he drew.

  “Nope,” he said, grabbing my hands and putting them over my head. I was about to protest, but he held my hands with one of his and pulled my shorts off with the other. I didn’t put up much of a fight as they went down my hips, my knees and to my feet. I kicked them off.

  “Behave,” he said, kissing me again, biting my bottom lip and sliding his fingers around my underwear and caressing me. I moaned again as he worked his fingers and his lips. Touching, pulling back, and then touching again.

  It was driving me insane, and I was completely helpless. I tried to push myself closer to his mouth, to his hand. I wanted him closer, but he kept pulling back a little.

  “Patience,” he said as he pushed one finger inside me, removing it so slow I wanted to grab his hand and take charge. He did it again, and then added another finger, driving me to the edge and back again.

  “Not yet,” he said, nipping my lip again. Like I had some sort of control over what was happening to me. He plunged his fingers into me again, this time harder. Words had deserted me. All I had left was incoherence.

  He pulled his fingers away, as if he knew how close I was.

  “Stryker!” I was hot and throbbing and frustrated.

  “Patience.” He finally removed my underwear and his mouth took the place his fingers had vacated. He spread my hips wide to get better access as he started the slow build again. My brain nearly exploded when he moved his mouth back and forth, his lip ring rubbing against me.

  It was the roller coaster all over again, but he wouldn’t let me go over the edge. He pulled back just in time. My body shook with the need for release, and I was afraid it was going to kill me when he finally took my hands and let me help him remove his pants and boxers.

  “Finally,” I said as he grabbed a condom from the drawer in my desk. I was wet and ready and I grabbed his dick, but he pushed my hands away.

  “Plenty of time for that.” I almost screamed at him, but it turned into a moan when he put his fingers inside me again.

  This time he took me to the edge and let me fall and I broke around his fingers.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me,” he said as his lips ravaged me further.

  I couldn’t help but comply as it went on and on, tearing me apart and putting me together and tearing me apart again. Just when I thought it was over, he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, paused for a moment and plunged into me.

  “You and me,” he said, pulling out slow and plunging back in.

  “No space,” I moaned, digging my fingers into his back. He went deep, deeper than he ever had. After every thrust, he waited for a second. No space.

  He picked up the pace and I felt myself building again. I pushed myself up to meet him and he met me with force.

  I came again, just as strong as before.

  “I love you,” he said as the world was shattering.

  “I love you,” I said as I felt him come a few moments later. Our lips met one last time.

  You and me.

  No space.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Stryker

  It was what I had wanted that very first time I’d met her. Watching her face as I drove her to the edge of pleasure and pulled her back was something so beautiful I didn’t think I could ever do it justice with my pen.

  Afterward, I lay with her, our sweat mingling and our bodies as close as they could be without being physically connected. She was busy reading my tattoos.

  “You figured out what you want yet?” Her skin was still ink free.

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, how about we practice?”

  “What do you mean?” I unwrapped my arms from around her and sat up, grabbing a marker from the box on her desk. I’d been planning this ever since I got her naked.

  “How about we try out a few. What was something you considered?” I held up the marker and she smiled.

  “A butterfly on my shoulder.” She pointed.

  “Turn over.” She rolled onto her back and turned her head so she could watch me. I dragged the marker across her skin, making the outline of a butterfly, as if it was resting on her shoulder. I grabbed a few other colors so I could make it more vibrant. She giggled a little at the touch of the marker. I finished the butterfly and then drew a flower below it, as if the butterfly had stopped on it to rest.

  “What next?” I said.

  “Um, how about a starfish?”

  “Where?”

  She turned over. “My hip.” She pointed to her left hip and gave me a little smile. I let my eyes trace her body. I’d seen it many times before, but I had a whole new appreciation of it now.

  It was so tempting to drop the marker and make her moan like she had earlier. Leaving the cap on the marker, I and slowly drew it over her body, from her collarbone and down her breasts to her bellybutton, where I made a circle and then lower.

  “Starfish,” she said in a harsh voice, her eyes closed and her hands fisted in her blanket.

  “Of course, how could I forget?” I uncapped the marker and started to draw, watching her skin pimple with goosebumps. I drew one starfish and then a clam and then some more shells, starting a seascape on her hip that stretched close to her bellybutton.

  “What’s next, my sweet canvas?”

  “Use your imagination.” She seemed to be out of ideas.

  “So I can draw whatever I want?”

  She grabbed my wrist before I could start drawing again. “Within reason.”

  I grinned at her and gave her a kiss, which was meant to be quick, but turned heated before she nipped my lip near my lip ring.

  “You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

  ***

  I covered her shoulders and arms and stomach and back and ass and legs and feet with drawings. Flowers and swirls and stars and quotes that reminded me of her and song lyrics and little thi
ngs that made me think of her. There was no continuity, except that they all reminded me of her.

  I drew hearts on the bottom of her feet and sat back to admire her. She looked over her shoulder, trying to see her back.

  “Come on,” I said, reaching for her. I picked her up and carried her to the full-length mirror that hung in her closet. I set her down and turned her so she could see.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “You are freakishly talented.”

  “An artist is nothing without good materials to work with, and a muse.”

  She looked away from her beautiful body to meet my eyes. “Oh, so I’m your muse now?”

  I touched a poppy I’d drawn on her shoulder in bold red marker.

  “Every artist needs one.”

  “You seemed to do pretty well without me before.”

  “That was because I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  “Hm,” she said, touching my more-permanent ink. “So I guess we’re not friends anymore, huh?”

  “I beg to differ.” I kissed the poppy and picked her up, making her squeal as I tossed her back in bed. “I think you are my very best of best friends.”

  I kissed her, not being able to hold back anymore.

  “You and me,” she whispered against my lips.

  “No space.”

  Katie

  It wasn’t until I woke up in Stryker’s arms the next morning that I realized I couldn’t go to class the way I was. He’d drawn all the way up around my neck, giving me what looked like a lace necklace, not to mention my arms and hands and legs. Unless I wore a bodysuit, everyone would be able to see it.

  “Was this some sort of ploy to get me to not leave this room?” I said when his green eyes finally opened. I would totally paint my walls that color.

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” He rolled over me and his dick pressed against me, ready to go again. I stroked him with my hand and he growled in my ear. He tried to remove my hand, but I wouldn’t let him.

  “Your turn to learn patience, my friend.” I kissed my way down his chest as my hand worked and he swore and moaned. It was nice to know that I could affect him as much as he affected me.

  I took him to the edge and back with my hands and my mouth, making him mine until I straddled him and we became united again.

  ***

  “I did have class today, you know. And I’m sure that any moment now someone is going to knock on the door and ask me to go to breakfast,” I said, still panting. Some of the beautiful drawings were smudged, but I was still covered in them.

  “What, you don’t want to go around like a walking art project? Afraid of what people will think?”

  “No, I just don’t want them staring. I can’t deal with more people looking at me. It’s like being at the funeral all over again.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

  “No, it wasn’t. You just forgot, and so did I.” Even if it was just for a little while. Knock, knock. Reality calling. “I can’t believe I forgot. Oh my God.” I sat up and moved away from him.

  “Oh my God. My dad is dead and we had sex and you said you loved me and I said it back. Oh God, I’m going to hell.” I tried to get out of bed, to get away from him, but he held onto me. I squirmed against him.

  “We shouldn’t have done this.”

  “You have got to stop blaming yourself for things, Katie.” He shook me a little as he said it. “Do you honestly think your dad would want you to stop living just because he did?”

  I knew he wouldn’t. I thought back to what he’d said to me when we’d had that chat in the basement. That I was strong and he was proud of me.

  “No.” He took my moment of weakness to pull me into his chest, right next to his heart.

  “What is the point of being alive if you don’t live it?” His eyes were bright and his voice was urgent. I’d never seen him like this. “I know you’re scared and I’m scared as hell too. That’s what love is, being scared as hell, but doing it anyway because it’s worth it.” He held me so tight, his arms like ropes that tied me to him, tied this moment together.

  “You terrify me, sweetheart.”

  “I terrify you. Me, with the pink obsession? I terrify the guy with the piercings and the tattoos and the, ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude?”

  “Terrifying things come in pink packages.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, I’m not scared of you, big bad boy.” He unwrapped his arms and held my face.

  “I never, ever want you to be scared of me.”

  “You’re not Zack,” I said. “You’re not anything like him.”

  “That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, sweetheart.”

  Just as he was leaning down for a kiss, there was a pounding on my door.

  “Um, you wanna get that? Just tell them I’m not feeling well, maybe?” He climbed over me and put his pants on as I pulled the blanket up to cover myself.

  “Oh, hey, Stryk,” Simon said. Stryker made sure to keep the door only halfway open so they couldn’t see me. “We just wanted to see if Katie was up for breakfast, but…never mind.”

  “She’s…she’s not feeling that great. We’ll probably just have something here.”

  “Sure, yeah, that’s…that’s great.” I could hear other voices, but I couldn’t tell who they were. “See you later?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Is she okay?” That was Lottie.

  “Yeah, she is.” He wasn’t facing me, but I could hear the grin in his voice. “She just needs to take an extra day, I think.”

  “If she needs anything…”

  “I know. I’ll call you, I promise.”

  He closed the door and I could hear them chattering. More than one of them had a problem with voice volume modulation.

  “Thanks for that. I wasn’t sure what they’d say about all this.” I motioned to the drawings that had stained my sheets a bit.

  “Anytime, sweetheart.” He took his clothes back off. “Now where were we?”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Stryker

  Katie and I spent the next few hours alternating between getting closer and eating the rest of the ice cream Lottie had stocked up on, and sometimes combining the two, which was the most fun.

  “How long do you think it’s going to take to wash this off?” The marker had faded from her skin a little, but she was still a walking, talking canvas. “I would like to leave this room at some point and rejoin the world.”

  “Why? The world is so overrated.”

  “True, but I think our friends might like to see us.”

  I kissed her shoulder. “You, maybe. I’m fine with staying in this room with you forever.”

  “That would be a bit of an issue when the semester is over and summer break comes and we have to move out.”

  “We could hide in the ceiling and then wait until everyone left and only come out at night to get supplies. Like vampires.”

  “You have put way too much thought into this. But seriously, I need to shower. I need to…do something.”

  “I have something you can do.” I took my hand and slid it down her stomach.

  “Fine, if you want, you can come shower with me. I need someone who can reach my back.” She got out of bed, then put my hand on her waist.

  “I wish we could save it somehow,” she said.

  “Are you at all opposed to nude photography?” My phone sat on her desk, and I reached for it, turning it on.

  “I guess not, as long as these don’t end up somehow plastered all over the internet.” I was about to answer her when I saw another text from Ric.

  Enjoy it while it lasts.

  Katie was waiting for me to answer.

  “What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just…Trish, being Trish.” Fucking Ric. That was why I’d left my phone off.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  I looked back at her, putting a smile on my face. S
he studied me for a second, and I thought she was going to demand that I tell her, but then she smiled.

  “Where do you want me?” she said, posing and throwing her head back. God, she was stunning.

  I moved the blankets on her bed so she could lay out and took first pictures of her front, moving from her neck on down. I grabbed a lamp to give us better light and she struggled with trying to stay still. I couldn’t believe she was letting me do this, and then it hit me.

  She trusted me. Not only did she love me, but she trusted me.

  Fuck.

  She trusted me enough to let me take pictures of her naked and keep them on my phone and not share them. That meant she probably trusted me to not fuck anyone else. Too late.

  I took the pictures of her back and her hands and finally, the bottoms of her feet.

  “Done.”

  I kissed them and she squirmed.

  “Shower?”

  “Only if I can come,” I said, making her squirm again as I dug my finger into the arch of her foot.

  ***

  I wrapped her up like a mummy and made sure the coast was clear before we hit the shower. The handicap shower, which was bigger, was known as the ‘couples’ shower’, she said, and more than a few couples had partaken in water conservation.

  “Is it working?” She said as I scrubbed her with her most exfoliating soap and this loofah thing she’d brought.

  “Sort of.” I rubbed harder and her skin turned red, but there was still a little bit of the drawing left behind. She was busy working on her front, checking her arms and stomach to see if it had faded.

  “You know, you could have just kept it. Would have come off eventually.” I ran my hand down her back and touched her, sliding one finger into her.

  She made an incoherent sound and I dropped the loofah.

  “Maybe we just need a little more friction,” I said.