High Horse Bastard

by Smart, Kit

  As I concentrated on freeing him, I felt Hadrian’s hands moving along my thighs, sliding my skirt up, and it was all I could do to focus on unzipping him as my body clenched and all but burst into flames in anticipation of getting him inside me. “Fuck.” I swore softly as his hands came to rest on my hips; his thumbs on the front of my by now soaked panties; deliciously, and painfully close to where I needed them.

  “Soon.” Hadrian promised softly as he went to work with those thumbs.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I chanted as those thumbs caressed their way around my clit. Desperately, I concentrated on pushing the sides of his zipper aside and freeing him for the confines of his underwear. Grasping his deliciously rigid length in my right hand, I used my thumb to to swirl the bead of pre-cum glistening at his tip, along the sensitive head of his cock, only part of me cognizant enough to take satisfaction in the groan of pleasure that simple caress elicited from him as I reached back with my left to pull my panties to the side.

  So swollen and engorged and throbbing, that the sensation of the cool air on my lips and clit was a pleasurable torture, I couldn’t help but touch myself where I needed to be touched as I moved into position over him.

  The pressure of my fingers was not enough and I groaned in sheer relief as I felt the solid pressure of his cock against my entrance. Rocking myself gently against that soft hardness as I rubbed my clit, I prepared myself to take it slow; to savor the deliciousness of our first joining. Just a little bit at a time. I told myself as I started to sink onto him.

  “Fuck.” Hands clamped down on my hips, and I wanted to scream in frustration as I was thwarted from getting what I so desperately needed.

  “Condom.” I followed the gritty voice to its owners mouth and found Hadrian; his face a rictus of pained desire as he sucked in air.

  “What?” I fought to clear my brain, to focus on his mouth as my body screamed and throbbed. Finding the slightest bit of leeway in his grip, I shifted until I could feel the tip of his cock against my clit. He was wet with pre-cum and the soft friction had me rubbing compulsively against him.

  When his hands relaxed against my hips I knew I had him and rejoiced in my victory by shifting until I was rubbing myself against the sensitive underside of his tip.

  Hadrian surprised me though by baring his teeth and fighting to stay focussed even as he shivered at the jolts of pleasure running through him. “Condom.” He gritted. “Sinclair—” He closed his eyes briefly only to force them open again and clamp his hands down once again on my hips. “We need to use a condom.”

  Somehow that broke through. “Okay.” I forced myself to stop moving against him; forced myself to ignore the howling protests of my body; forced myself to think. Do I even have condoms in the cottage?

  “Pocket.” He nodded down at his right hip. “In my pocket.”

  “Okay.” Nodding dumbly, I shifted forward so I could reach into his pocket.

  “Fuck.” He cursed as the motion brought my pussy in contact with his cock.

  “Sorry.” I apologized because he sounded so pained. Truthfully though, I wasn’t sorry. His reaction was so satisfying that it took everything I had not to repeat that motion; not to drag the wet swollen lips of my pussy against his rigid length again and again until we were both begging for completion.

  He laughed shortly. “You have nothing to apologize for Pippa.” He told me as I pulled the condom out of his pocket and sat back up.

  “You sound… pained.” I said by way of explanation as I ripped open the packet with shaking hands.

  “Not pained.” He corrected. “Excited.” He paused. “I’m afraid it’s been awhile for me.”

  “Yeah?” Pulling the condom out of its packet, I reached down between us and positioned it against the tip of his cock which elicited a groan from him. Grinning wickedly at his responsiveness, I rolled the condom down his shaft in a long, slow smooth motion that had him gasping.

  “Fuck.” He groaned as I lowered myself onto him.

  “Now?” I teased as the sensation of his hard which length filling me up where I needed it made me cocksure.

  “Fuck.” He gasped as I clenched my internal muscles. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck”

  16

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “You are.” I traced the length of the faded scar on his right hip with my index finger.

  He huffed softly with laughter. “Go on then, spare my feelings.”

  Struck by that, I looked up at him. “Would you like me to?”

  “Spare my feelings?” He repeated wryly. “No.” He gave a small shrug; nothing more than a twitch of his shoulders. “Not in my better moments anyway.”

  That leaves a fair bit of ground uncovered. “I’m not sure what to do with that.” I admitted slowly as I continued to trace the skin around his scar. Tilting my head to the side slightly, I gave him a cheeky grin. “What are these better moments you speak of Hadrian?”

  His eyes warmed with appreciation. “I like that.” He told me. “The humor.” He clarified at my quizzical look. “The way you tease me no matter what’s going on.”

  “No matter what’s going on?” I rolled my eyes at him. “You make me sound rather inhumane.”

  “Not at all.” He shifted slightly under my hand. “It’s very reassuring actually.”

  That gave me pause. “Reassuring how?”

  “It let’s me know that you’re not affected by my—quirks.”

  “Quirks meaning seizures etcetera?” I clarified as I reversed my hand to sweep out along his hip bone and flank.

  “Hmmm—” Hadrian groaned appreciatively. “Yes.”

  Quite pleased with myself at eliciting such a reaction, I extended my caresses to encompass the sensitive skin of his belly as I thought about that. “I am affected by your seizures etcetera.” I said finally.

  “Yes—but they don’t appear to affect the way you think of—interact with me.” He murmured, eyes closed as he soaked in the attention.

  I considered that. “It had occurred to me that I ought to go easier on you at times.” I admitted.

  “Don’t.” He was breathing deeply, and evenly now, not quite on the verge of sleep but some where adjacent to it. “I don’t need easier.”

  I listened to the sound of my hand sweeping across his skin. “I need you teasing me—acting normal.” He paused for such a long time that I wondered if he had fallen asleep.

  “It makes me feel grounded.”

  I snorted softly. “I am not sure what it says about me that you think my normal is teasing.”

  He lifted an eyelid at me. “That you like me?” He hesitated ever so slightly. “Can I say that? That you like me?”

  That warmed me and I cocked an eye at him in return. “I think we may be well beyond like at this point Hastings.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Trailing my hand up along his abdomen and then chest as I went; I slid into position beside him. I only lifted my hand from his body long enough to pull the covers over us.

  It felt good; peaceful, lying there with him in the dark, and it made me hesitate to ask what I wanted to ask, so I lay there for several minutes tracing my index finger along his collar bone trying to figure out what to do.

  “Pippa.” Hadrian murmured, his tone equal parts amusement and seriousness. “I can feel your brain humming.” He captured my hand in his and drew it down slightly to rest against the center of his chest.

  “My brain hums?”

  “Hums, rattles, gallops wildly, screeches madly around corners on two wheels.” He tilted his head back until he could look down at me and I caught a glimpse of his smile in the darkness.

  “Bastard.” I muttered without heat.

  His smile widened into a grin. “That’s High Horse Bastard to you I believe.”

  “Glad to see you’re having such a great time at my expense.” I returned lifting our joined hands and giving him a light thump on the chest.

  His low rumble of amusement, felt as
much as heard, travelled out along the arm I had across his chest, straight into my heart, and for a moment I had the hardest time remembering to breathe.

  “I am having a great time.” He admitted. “Though hopefully not at your expense.” He set his head back onto the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s causing your brain to hum.”

  I considered the mood; the lingering hum of sleepy satisfaction in my body and thought about saving my questions for later.

  “Your hesitation is making me imagine all sorts of horrible possibilities.” He teased lightly but with a slight undertone of worry that made the decision for me.

  Gathering my courage , I took a deep breath and turned my head until I could make out his profile on the pillow next to me. “I feel like this is probably one of those conversations that we should have had before sex.” I admitted keeping “my tone light—trying to convey that there was no reason for concern.

  “Ah. One of those conversations.” He replied dryly, but not without amusement.

  “Yes. One of those.” I affirmed. “Do you mind?”

  “No.” He slanted a look down at me. “Fire away.”

  “It was very difficult to get you into bed.” I started, hesitated when I found myself uncertain of where to go with that.

  “Is that a question?”

  “Uh…. Kind of?” I tried to rein in my scattered thoughts. “I know you told me about having seizure brain.” I grabbed another thought. “And I know that the seizure itself dishes out quite a beating physically…” I felt my way along the question I wanted to ask carefully. “And I understand that you’re feeling a little off kilter—” Reassured by the continued calmness in his expression as I bungled my way through, I continued. “But did you really think that I would have a problem with your scars?” Please don’t be offended.

  That elicited a wry smile, and I felt myself relax.

  “No.” He hesitated. “Yes,—maybe.” He shifted slightly; stared at the ceiling. “It’s more that I’m more susceptible to—reactions after a seizure.” Another wry twist of the lips. “My guard is down.” He admitted. “And everything hits pretty hard—much harder than when I don’t have seizure brain.”

  I chewed on that. “So, you were defending yourself against the possibility of a negative reaction?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you had told me about your seizures before—”

  “There wasn’t time.” He reminded me. “And I actually very seldom have them.”

  I picked up on the slight defensiveness in that. Seizure Brain at work? “That’s not what I meant to say—” I squeezed his hand in mine. “I meant to say that, as you told me, that is the value in having these conversations first.” Relief flowed through me when he squeezed my hand in return.

  He raised our joined hands and pressed the back of my hand to his lips.

  He didn’t say anything for so long that I had all but drifted to sleep when he did speak.

  “I sometimes have seizures during intercourse.”

  That woke me up.

  * * * * *

  “I can have several seizures one after another and then nothing for months.” He continued. “It doesn’t always happen like that but—”

  “It has happened in the past.” I continued picking up on where he was going.

  “Yes.” He confirmed. “Something about the electrical system in the brain being disrupted and heightened emotion…I didn’t want to put you through that.” He cleared his throat. “It’s rather gruesome.”

  “Gruesome.” I seized on the word. That’s not something I’ve ever heard you say before. “Who told you that?” I flipped through my memories of his seizure; tried to imagine it occurring in the midst of sex. Unless, I am having a failure of imagination here, gruesome isn’t the word that I would use either.

  “My ex.”

  “The woman from the night of your birthday?” Whether it was from a possessiveness spawned from all the feel good attachment hormones swirling through me, or straightforward anger that someone would say that to another person, I found myself pissed off.

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame her.” He told me picking up on censure in my voice. “Whatever else it is, it definitely isn’t attractive.” He told me wryly. “And there was a period a couple of years back when I was having my medications adjusted, and I was having a lot of seizures. It was tough on her.”

  Tough on her? I bit my lip in order to stop myself from cursing. Not a good idea Pippa. In an effort to distract myself, I seized on the other part of what he’d said: A couple of years ago. I flashed on an image of Hadrian’s tense and angry looking face when we’d first been introduced. His irritated tone as he’d introduced himself and without so much as a handshake, disappeared into his office. The way he’d shifted impatiently this way and that during project meetings as he preemptively shot down ideas and picked holes in all my ideas and suggestions. The way he’d get up and leave with a curt: “We’ll continue this later.” Arrogant, inconsiderate and unfriendly. And so I nicknamed you the High Horse Bastard. “A couple of years ago—” I put it together. “Was this during the time I joined the firm?”

  He drew my hand up to his lips for another kiss. “Regrettably yes.”

  “So, you were an asshole to me because you were feeling horrible?”

  I felt him wince. “I suppose I should count myself lucky that you only saddled me with High Horse Bastard.”

  “High Horse Asshole doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”I pulled his hand towards me so the I could kiss his knuckles before settling our clasped hands back on his chest. “How many seizures were you having?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “One or two every couple of days.” He said eventually.

  It was my turn to wince. I thought about how sore and tired he’d been since his seizure. Not even taking into account the beating his brain and emotions had taken. “I can’t believe you were still working through that.”

  “In retrospect, neither can I.” He admitted ruefully.

  “Stubborn bastard.” I murmured, not without affection.

  “Yeah probably.”

  “Definitely.” I emphasized. “Stubborn, stubborn bastard.” I punctuated each word with a kiss on his shoulder.

  “I am sorry.” He apologized. “I shouldn’t have been so horrible to you Pippa.”

  “Probably not.” I conceded because it had legitimately sucked. “I do understand now that you really weren’t feeling well.” I studied the side of his face. “I do wish you’d told me—that I’d known—”

  “So do I.”

  Something occurred to me. “You haven’t been having seizures like that these past two years.”

  “No.”

  “But you’ve—”

  “Continued to be a bastard?” He finished for me.

  I considered that. “You haven’t been a bastard exactly.” I corrected him. “You’ve just never warmed up to me I guess.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” I forcibly suppressed my irritation. Not helpful Pippa. “And don’t tell me that I’m too nice. We’ve covered that.”

  * * * * *

  “I didn’t trust you.”

  For some reason that shook me. Nobody’s ever said that about me before. “Did I do something—”

  “No.” He interrupted firmly. “My ex was nice.” He said after a moment. I can hear your brain humming Hadrian. “Right up until the moment she left.” He pulled his free arm up over his eyes. “She never asked about—never had anything to say about my CP.” He let out a low breath. “Not until she was leaving.”

  I watched him breathe as I processed that. “That must have sucked.” I said finally, shifting more fully onto my side so I could see him better. “Did you have any idea?”

  “No. She didn’t appear to mind my…quirks.”

  Ouch.

  “The seizures were the final stra
w as it turns out.”

  Final straw as in the last of many. I tried to decide if I should ask—if I wanted to know what else she had said.

  “She didn’t want to be married to—to have kids with someone she’d have to take care of.” Hadrian took the decision away from me.

  “You were engaged?” I didn’t expect that.

  “Yes.”

  I nodded to myself. “So, you didn’t trust me because I was nice—” The words stuck in my throat. “—like her.” You don’t trust nice.

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I am sorry Pippa.”

  “I know. I suppose I wouldn’t have trusted me either if I were in your position.” I conceded. “Especially since, I do have some issues around being too nice and accommodating.” It was my turn to sigh. “I’m working on it.”

  “I’ve noticed.” He lifted his arm enough to slant me a look. “How is it that you suddenly came to decide to ‘work on it’?”

  Relieved that he was looking at me again, I offered him a grin and settled into my pillow. “Well, this magnificent little tea shop opened up near my house…” I began and by the time, I had detailed the story of the unlikely advice giving tea bag and my conversion to piracy, he was laughing.

  “Remind me to keep you out of that box of tea.” He turned his head to face me. “God knows what you’d get up to next.”

  “You don’t approve?” I asked though, by the expression of delight on his face, I was already certain of his answer.

  He leaned forward to kiss the tip of my nose affectionately. “I wholeheartedly approve.” He leaned back. “I just wonder what other sage pieces of advice are contained within that box of tea. I think I may need pre-warning.”

  “You don’t think I’m flakey?”

  “Because you took advice from a teabag?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “No. I think you already knew that you had a problem, and that’s why the advice on that teabag struck a chord in you.” He paused. “Also, I am wholly in support of your new pirate boots Sinclair.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Pirates are sexy.”