99 Percent Mine

by Sally Thorne

  For years as I’ve watched Tom’s mouth as he talked, I’ve known how he would kiss. Earnest and sexy and primal. Each lush press is to learn what I like—but he’s realizing I like it any way he gives it. Soft, slow, teeth and tongue. Fast and rough. Bonus points for a hand on my throat. A squeezing handful of my butt has me shuddering and oversensitized; the seams on my clothes are like blades against me. He shows no sympathy and instead takes a tour of my body. When my breast is in his hand, he feels the stud in my nipple against his palm.

  “Bed,” he says in his alpha voice, and my Underswears lose their elastic. I’ve said the exact same thing to him. I wonder if I made him feel this way.

  “You’ve finally caught up.” I’m being transported backward with no effort on my part. I feel lighting cables under the soles of my feet but I’m not snagged or tripped. He’s got me. “I tore a room apart and told you to get in my bed, and you just—”

  He tips me down onto the bed.

  “I’m going to make up for it, I promise,” he says with a smile in his voice.

  Chapter 19

  His knees press on the mattress, one, two, either side of my calves. He’s a huge shape in the dark above me. Hands either side of my head, one, two. I feel the downward dip of his body, and he’s breathing against the side of my neck.

  I say up to the ceiling, “Tell me I smell right.”

  He senses the uncertainty underlying my sharp order. “You smell like the only person.”

  I exhale. “Well thank fuck for that.” I hold my arms above my head and he tugs my top off.

  “Your obsession with lace has destroyed my sanity. Do you know that your bra is always visible, no matter what you wear? It’s like your clothes don’t really want to be clothes.” He gives me a kiss on my neck that gives way to a suck and a bite. “You’re like a self-peeling banana.”

  I start laughing. “That’s how I feel around you.”

  “It fucks me up when guys look at the lace on your skin.” The thought has him returning to my lips, and jealousy is a spice in his mouth.

  I know how he feels. I’m keeping my hands on this skin for the rest of his life, so there’s never any doubt of who he belongs to.

  He arranges me across a dim stripe of light from a gap in the drapes. My lace is admired, complimented, rubbed on his cheek, then it’s slingshot-gone into the dark corner of the room. He slides his tough, hardworking palms all over me.

  The nipple piercing is a blip that interests him intensely. He drops down from his elbow to investigate, and I finally realize the full potential of that metal, slid into such a sensitive tip. Other men have tried tuning me like a radio, but Tom knows what to do. I shiver and shake as he tests my reactions.

  I wonder if he likes it. “So, pierced tough chicks are your thing?”

  “God, yeah,” he says with it in his mouth. “How is this metal so sweet?” His tongue touches it as he speaks and I’m levitating off the mattress. He laughs, pleased, and does it more.

  “Every single time I’ve thought about this mystery piercing I’ve walked into a wall. Arch up,” he adds with the right amount of bossy. His forearm slides under me, and I’m tipped up and he plays with me until I put my hand on the button of my jeans.

  He releases me to speak. “Is this actually happening? Or did I walk into a wall too hard?”

  “Yes, this is finally real.” I break the remaining buttons on his shirt. It falls open and I run my hands up his torso. His elbows lock and unlock. His hips bump forward. The involuntary reactions of his body are sublime.

  His tight T-shirts have not been lying. Body, body, body. He’s the most spectacular combination of flat and curved. Muscles for days. Lines and hips and so many hours of manual labor that I nearly hurt for him. Why does he have to toil this hard? His body loves my hands.

  “This is really happening, unless I’m having another one of my vivid Tom Valeska sex dreams. In which case, I won’t be able to look at you in the eye tomorrow.”

  He replies with amusement, “You probably won’t anyway, after all I’m going to do with you.” He feels the squeeze of my thighs and kisses me again. He loves my lips. “DB, I am going to get to know you tonight.”

  “You know me pretty well already,” I shudder out, and he shakes his head.

  “Not the way I want to.” He feels me lift my hips in reply and his hands jerk my jeans to my knees. Everything pauses. When he speaks he’s trying to compose himself. “But now’s a good point to ask if you want to continue. And if you don’t, that is completely fine.”

  My heart swells with love. He’s the best possible guy. The perfect man. And I’m in a bed with him. I’m so lucky I could cry. I try to sit up but my body is saving its strength.

  “Please, please. Enthusiastic yes. Pitiful begging, et cetera. I’m not even kidding. Put me out of my misery.”

  “Darcy Barrett, begging me in bed. I’m having one of my fever dreams.” He laughs softly and I feel his hand wrap my ankle. Then I’m rolled onto my stomach. When he pulls back on my hips I jolt inside with surprise. For a second, I expect the painful drag of elastic and a blunt breaching pressure, maybe tight hands marking my hips. It’s a bad-sex flashback and I’m quaking.

  He says, “Control freak.” Then I understand. He’s just reading what’s printed on my Underswears. I love him so much all I can do is laugh and put my hands over my face.

  Now he’s rubbing the stubble of his jaw up my spine. I feel his brow bone press into my shoulder.

  “Your skin has this silvery shine to it, and all I want to do is . . .” He shows me. It involves his tongue and teeth. My groans are muffled in the mattress. He uses his palm to turn me over. He spoils me, soothes me, and wants to know me. I feel him filing away every eyelash quiver and exhalation. He passes fingertips over me, chasing and creating goose bumps.

  “You and your beautiful skin have been haunting me for years. One Christmas I kissed you on the cheek to say hi. It . . . overwhelmed me. I had to go sit in my car.” He does it now, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “It was the best gift I got.” Over and over, he presses on my cheekbone. “Thank you.”

  He’s so sweet and open; how can I ever hope to match him? I have no experience being truthful or soft in bed, but I have to try.

  “You’re so lovely.” I thread my fingers into his hair. “Well, I spent every Christmas waiting for the goodbye hug. Yeah,” I sigh as he squeezes me to him. That deliberate pause that makes me feel like he’s saying my name in his head. “Oh geez, that’s even better now that we’re horizontal.”

  “You spent every Christmas waiting to say goodbye to me?” He has heartbreak in his voice, even as he pulls down my underwear. “DB, I gotta make it up to you.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you do.” I feel his hesitation. He’s gone shy. Biting my lip to hold back my smile, I take his hand and slide it up my leg. “Start now.”

  He feels me, he inhales how ready I am, and now we’re back to vicious.

  He bites my earlobe to hold me still while he tests and plays, his fingers easy and sure. He’s very good at solving problems. My body shivers in the cage of his body, and his breath in my ear sounds inhuman. I tense; he tightens. I relax, he rewards me. He wants me compliant and soft. He wants me liquid and silky.

  “Slow down or I’ll come,” I blurt, then I laugh in disbelief. “I’ve literally never said that before.” I grab desperately at my nightstand drawer. “Lucky I’m in bed with the world’s hardest worker.”

  “I’d better go easy on you.”

  “Why?” I’ve barely got enough light to see the glint in his eyes when he bites the foil square like it’s a pack of candy. Then I access my memory vault and laugh. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about your dick.”

  “Oh, you forgot?” He laughs and gives me a little slap on the butt. “Thanks a lot, DB.”

  “How could I forget, really.” His hand is between my legs again, giving me the sweep of his thumb, kind and tender. “Everyth
ing about you is sublime. I have been hurting from wanting you. Tom Valeska, get in me.”

  He always gives me what I ask for.

  I can’t shut my mouth to silence my moan. “Oh fuck. You feel like the world’s most perfect man.”

  He’s laughing even as his endless gentle push turns into an easy back and forth between us. He’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever had. I hate the intrusive thought—how dare my brain even think of any of the others? But it’s coupled with the realization that he’s taking care of me, and it’s the hottest thing.

  “Thanks,” he says with affection. “You feel like a dream come true.”

  My body is lit with pleasure. He has a reserved quality in his movements. If I can just get Tom Valeska to lose his mind over me, I can die happy. “No way. Don’t go easy.”

  “Just . . . Just let me be careful.”

  “I don’t want careful. I want honest.” Finally, that first slip of his control. It’s brain-meltingly good, feeling his body being so authentic. “I’m getting this every day. Deeper. Tom, I want you harder.” Automatically, I put my hand down between us. My orgasm is my responsibility. Except, apparently it isn’t.

  “That’s what I’m here for, dummy,” he admonishes me in between freestyle-stroke breaths. He tickles his fingertips against me, even as he holds himself back. “Is your heart—okay?”

  It’s the first time a man has ever asked me that in bed, because no one’s ever known. I bite back the automatic sure and assess myself. My heartbeat is a dim sloppy drum in my ears.

  “I’m okay, but if I get too overheated or if you press me down, I’ll start to feel all dizzy and claustrophobic. Then the palpitations happen and I won’t be able to . . .” My private parts will shut up shop and I will not be able to release this agonizing lust.

  He pulls away from me. Long and lush.

  I scrabble with my legs. “Give it back. Have I just ruined the mood?”

  “No, of course not. What about,” he says with a thoughtful tone, “this.”

  “You don’t have to change a thing,” I beg, but he’s rolling me onto my side and he’s curling around me. It’s comfortable enough for sleep, just a pair of platonic naked spoons. The blankets are lifted away and cool air is on my skin. For a dreadful moment I think he’s given up on me.

  Except I’m wrong. Like always, he’s found a solution. He’s kissing the back of my neck as he pushes into my body again. Now he rocks against me, a hand on my hip.

  “Don’t you worry about anything,” he suggests, sliding his hand down. “Just relax and breathe.”

  I would never have thought that concern could be sexy. I speak into the dark. “Can I confess?” I feel him nod against my shoulder and the silky friction eases. “Coming sometimes triggers off my heart. And this is gonna be a doozy. So, if that happens, do not take it personally.”

  “I’ll try to not completely blow your circuit boards.” He groans when I squeeze him. “You want to try me out, see how I do?”

  Have I ever had such a luscious offer? Tom’s voice is sounding more like a growl.

  “I want you to get in me.” I press my cheek against his bicep to anchor myself as his touch gets me closer and closer to the edge. “Deeper. Harder. Not like you’re sorry for me, or worrying about me. I want you to put yourself in me like we’re doing this daily, from now on. For life.”

  Heated blood is prickling under my skin but I’m prepared to deal with what might happen. He does exactly what I tell him to do. He gives me everything he’s got.

  The orgasm hits me like I’ve just run face-first into a brick wall.

  I contract and I hear my own inward inhale. Everything coils and I’m exhaling. Free-falling. And while I can barely hear over the noise inside my chest, I’m held safe in these arms, with someone who knows me, A to Z.

  I don’t have to worry about pretending to be normal. Just as I’m thinking how nice that was, he puts himself so hard into me that I’m now shaking with aftershocks, and I sound like I’m crying. But he’s smart and doesn’t let up. Now I’m wrung-out spasming, tears on my cheeks, contributing a nonsensical string of more, yes, more. His arms have to hold me against him or I’d be halfway across the bed.

  “Now, now,” I order, and he obeys me.

  Tom is sharing this secret part of himself; I’m bitten, spread, gripped, and I have never been wanted this intensely. He will kill and live and die for me. It’s big, what he’s feeling. All I know is, I’m his now. I put a hand on the back of his neck as he presses a kiss to my shoulder.

  “Now, that’s what I’ve waited for,” he says after several minutes of trying to breathe. “Turns out Loretta’s books didn’t give me unrealistic expectations.” He extricates himself from me with difficulty. In the dark, he says, “That’s what it’s like with you. Just . . . electric.” I feel him lean away from the bed.

  Hands smooth over me. I’m not remotely tired. I need another kiss. I need his skin against mine, so I’m never hungry again. I hear a cardboard sound in the dark, and a soft scraping sound. Is he putting away the box of condoms?

  “I said to you at the bar that being the focus of Darcy Barrett is intense. I had no idea what I was talking about. That was intense. Okay, I count four more of these,” Tom says about the condoms, and I thrill down to the marrow of my bones. “Shall we see how far we get?”

  I can’t resist. “Don’t you have an early start?”

  “Smart-ass. I’d better get to work.” His mouth touches mine, we inhale, and we begin again.

  * * *

  I’M WOKEN BY a Chihuahua scratching at the door to the studio. Tom’s gone, there’s barely any light outside, and the sheets are cold. I wrap myself in a black silk robe and my reset alarm clock flashes midnight, over and over. All I know is, the power’s on and it’s incredibly early. “Yeah, yeah,” I tell Patty. “Where’s Daddy?”

  I’m disappointed. I’ve never woken up with a man, and I was looking forward to another first. With each step I take toward the door, I feel echoes of what he gave me last night. I’m wrung out, gloriously so. Last night was a rough, soft playfight.

  Let me spoil Darcy Barrett a little. Let me get a taste of that feeling.

  It was the best night of my life. I wonder if he’d be weirded out if he knew that? I’ve finally got the one person I don’t have to pretend to be cool with. If I told him, he’d smile. Then he’d use that boss voice that I like. Get that robe off.

  I slide open the door. “Tom?” I call out. Instead of going to her usual patch of lawn, Patty sets off with determination in her stride. She’s heading for the side of the house, with finding her owner the only thing in her mind. “Patty, come back.”

  The nearest shoes are a pair of heels I left against the wall. I jam them on. I inwardly shudder as the soles slip on mud and there’s a repulsive snail crunch. My thigh muscles stretch and cramp until I yelp.

  It turns out Chihuahuas can set an Olympic pace. She’s now a tail disappearing around the corner of the house. She’s hammering up the drive when a car pulls in. Patty has the survival instinct of a lemming. My heart leaps in fright. I blink and my eyes trick me; I think I see her go under the wheel. I blink again and she’s fine, her tail waving like a flag in greeting.

  “Watch out,” I call with the last of my breath, and wave my arm to get attention, and when the truck brakes I see it’s Tom. Where has he been this early? The sun’s not even up.

  I put my hands on my knees. If I could just catch my breath . . . Huff, huff, huff. I’m not this unfit, surely. My heart is pounding strangely, faster and faster, until I know what’s happening. I feel like I could put my hand on my chest and take it out like a hamster. I press down on it, willing it to slow. The driver’s door opens, I look up, and Tom’s completely appalled.

  The passenger door opens too, and there’s a blond haircut the same as mine, and I close my eyes and will myself to get it together, because this is the worst possible moment for this to happen.

  I’d know my b
rother’s smell anywhere. Expensive cloth and a snooty Italian fragrance that smells like lemon peel mixed into window cleaner; it’s supposed to be attractive to women, and it is to most. He’s at my elbow and Tom’s at the other, both talking at once. Tom’s frantic. Fingers press on my wrist and when Tom leaves, I twist around to try to follow him.

  “He’s getting your medication,” Jamie tells me, and I crumple against him. My heart? It still thinks it’s a twin, because it sticks to my brother like a magnet until Tom is putting a dose in my hand, a bottle of water, and I’m swallowing.

  Everything’s gray. Everything’s gone wrong.

  “I’m fine,” I manage, but I can’t seem to unstick from Jamie. My hands are clutching and I’m pixelating into fainting when Jamie’s steely voice brings me back up.

  “Don’t you dare, Darcy.”

  “Am I making the call?” Tom is holding up his phone. “Jamie, am I making it?” He’s desperate. I shake my head vigorously. Jamie shakes his head, too. He’s confident he’s more qualified than a paramedic.

  “You’re too important,” Jamie tells me in a hush, like it’s our secret and not even Tom is supposed to hear it. “You’re way too important to me. Come on, now, just breathe and let that heart settle down.”

  He’s giving me a hug that only he can give. I missed him so badly I’m shaking. Fucking hell. I tried so hard, but I’m his twin sister now, more than ever. Until one of us dies, we’re stuck with each other.

  It’s a minute or two more before the palpitations begin to slow. Tom’s hands are on my shoulders, and I manage to cram my own personal whirlwind back into the lockbox in my chest. I try to push away from Jamie but fall backward into Tom.

  “Congratulations on giving me a heart attack,” Jamie says, and that’s how I know I’m okay now. “We could have shared a cemetery plot to cut down costs.”

  “Any room for me in there?” Tom’s voice says faintly above my head.