by Zoey Castile
I watch his reaction. It isn’t what he was expecting I’d say. “That’s a throwback. That feels like a lifetime ago.”
I want to kiss him on the lips, but it doesn’t feel right yet. I kiss the underside of his chin, the bare skin of his throat.
“Are you disappointed?” he asks, his Adam’s apple bobs once.
“No,” I say. “Because what’s in here, what I feel when you whisper to me, when you tell me the things you want to do to me, I still feel that, Patrick.”
There’s a scar that runs clean down his left eyebrow, so deep the hair hasn’t grown back. I can’t imagine the pain he must have gone through, that he might be still going through.
“I wasn’t a good person,” he says. “The accident didn’t turn me into a good person, Lena. You deserve more. Better than this.”
Steam rises around us, and though we’re more or less squeaky clean, we don’t make a move to get out.
“You told me that you were trying. Are you still going to keep trying?”
“I want to.”
“What else do you want?”
His voice is tender, eager. “To feel you. Can I feel you, Lena?”
“Yes,” I sigh.
He nods, takes my chin in his fingers, then traces the skin of my throat. My breasts feel full, and aching. My nipples pucker from the sensitive touch of his chest against me.
I inhale sharply as we almost slip. He catches me around my waist with one hand and plants a hand against the wall to hold us up.
“What’s funny?” he whispers in my ear.
“It’s good you had seats built here,” I say, wrapping an arm around his neck to hold on. He grips me tight and we walk backward through the waterfall and sit. I shift to straddle him, his back against the white tiles. His hands grip my hips as I settle my weight on the top of his thighs. He hisses and he takes his dick in his hand.
“Fuck, Lena, look at what you do to me.” He runs his fist up and down his length.
“Can I?” I whisper.
He nods once, keeping one hand on my lower back so I don’t slip off. I wrap my fingers around the head of his dick, tracing my thumb against the sensitive skin of his frenulum. He exhales sharply with every slide of my hand.
“Lena,” he whispers, and I catch the tail end of my name with my mouth.
I want to be everywhere at once. I want to keep stroking him. Kissing him. I want to feel the pressure of him inside me. He grips the back of my neck and presses me to his chest. I let go of his hard cock to rake my fingers through his hair.
“Touch me,” I tell him and he does, frantic and hard and reverent.
“God, Lena, you’re going to break me.”
One of his fingers slips between my folds, stroking like he’s beckoning me to come for him.
“I want you,” I say, and it feels like we’re echoing everything we said over the phone, and now we can say them to each other in person.
“Be specific. What do you want me to do?”
“Fuck me, please,” I whisper. I move my hips, my wetness sliding against his cock.
He grumbles as he licks kisses on my neck. “Not here.”
I scream with pleasure as he lifts me in the air, water spraying everywhere. He slams a fist to turn the water off, and then he’s carrying me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I’m slippery all over, and when I slide back down against his chest, I feel the ache of his dick against my opening. I stare deep into his eyes and moan.
“I’m not going to make it,” he grunts.
“Really?” I ask, disoriented as we haven’t even started yet.
But as he kneels on the pile of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, I realize he means the bed.
“Lena?” he whispers between kisses on my neck.
“Pat?”
He moves up to my ear. “I need you to know. There hasn’t been anyone but you.”
I take the kiss he hovers over my lips. I take his face in my hands, so vulnerable. “Same.”
His tip stretches my opening as he shudders against me, enveloping my breasts with his reverent tongue.
“More,” I say, moving my hips in small circles. “I want to feel all of you.”
“I’ve dreamed of you,” he tells me, his face lit by the shadows of the flames. He pushes my leg aside with his knee and pumps once, reaching deeper inside me. I grab hold of his shoulders and sigh. “Every night.”
“Show me, show me what we do in your dreams.”
He slides farther and farther, slipping into my wet pussy. I can feel the pressure building in anticipation of this. He kisses me, driving into me harder and faster. I want to be crushed by the pressure of his body, I want to feel that breathless moment over and over, until I unravel so much, I don’t think I’ll be able to be put back together the same way.
I come hard and fast. I hear him the moment he’s close. That sexy grunt at the back of his throat. He pulls out and runs his hand up and down his slick, wet dick.
“Right here,” I say, tapping my lower abdomen. He stares at me with that intensity again, only this time, neither of us are afraid. His warm seed spills on the plane of my skin and I run my finger through it, like I’m finger painting on canvas.
“Lena,” he moans, a smile I’ve never seen etched on his beautiful face. A face that tells me this night isn’t over yet.
PAT
I watch her play with my come on her skin. When she brings it to the tip of her tongue and licks it, I’m hard again.
I don’t think my heart can take this. She is the sexiest woman I’ve ever had under me. For a moment, I’m dizzy with the feeling she brings out in me. It is strange and overwhelming. Unlike all the other times, I don’t try to push it away. I let it fall over me like the water from moments ago. It passes, and I feel better than I have in weeks. In months. And I know that I am not healed but I am closer than I thought possible and it is, in part, because of Lena.
She lets her leg fall to the side, unveiling her sweet, beautiful cunt for me. Neat lines of hair guide me to the sweet spot of her clit. I take her into my mouth and she gasps, saying my name with a shocked sigh.
I want to keep surprising her. I want to let her know that I will get through this. That if she will wait for me, I can come out the man who deserves her. With the stroke of my tongue around the swollen, sensitive bud, I fuck her with my fingers. Her slick wetness all over my face and nose. I want to breathe her in until I smell like her.
She calls out God’s name and mine, and I can feel the walls inside her contract around my lucky fucking fingers, because I get to make her feel this way.
When she’s finished trembling, I drag my tongue from the bottom to the top and look up at her. She’s biting her lower lip.
She reaches for me, and for a moment, I desperately want to feel the sensation of her skin on mine. But I turn my face so she’s got the smooth, unblemished side. There’s a frown on her face, and I don’t want her to frown. I want to see her bite that cute fucking lip again. I want her to keep screaming my name.
“Get up,” she says, and my legs are already moving before I’ve had a chance to process her words.
She gives me a little shove onto the bed. I am not used to women who push and pull this way. She’s dominant in a way I’ve never experienced and my body does everything she asks me to. Lie back. Look at her.
She traces her fingers on my skin, but doesn’t scratch me and I wonder if it’s because she’s afraid of hurting the scars on my legs. With Lena touching them, a part of me shudders. I want this. I want to feel her mouth on every part of me. Why is there still a trace of fear there? Fear that I’m dreaming again.
I was dreaming that first night that changed everything. When she moaned so loud, I could hear her all the way from the pool house.
As she takes the swollen head of my cock in her mouth, I exhale a long-held breath. My dick was made to be sucked by her, my whole body changed to give her whatever pleasure she asks of me. I don’t hold bac
k how good it feels to be touched this way. I grab hold of her hair so I can see the way I disappear into her mouth, along her throat. All those nights on the phone were an experience I’ll never be able to re-create, but this? I could dissolve around her, melt into her. Lena can have all of me if she just asks.
“I’m going to come, baby,” I whisper.
The wet smack of her lips sends a sharp tug of desire. She puts pressure on my sack and grins, bites the bottom of her fucking sinful mouth as she tugs my dick with her hands.
“Then come,” she says, and kisses my cock along the length, working her way to the head. I grab hold of it, and stroke while she licks circles that have my head spinning. Glistening, pearly come pools against her lips, trickling down my shaft and her chin.
“Stay with me,” I say.
“I am with you.”
She massages my thighs with her hands, and, despite being naked and covered in my fluids, she looks sweet, innocent. That fear returns, the one where I repeat everything that just happened. Fuck, was it really just two hours ago when I thought I’d lost her?
I know who you are, she said. And with those words, I dove back into the hole I’ve been trying to crawl out of.
She climbs up on me and I clutch her full, round ass. My dick is spent, but when she touches my chest with her palms and her small round tits get hard, my dick is at attention.
“I mean, stay with me, tonight.” Stay with me for always.
“Okay, Patrick.” She brushes her hair aside and closes her eyes as she sinks around my cock. “I’ll stay.”
12
Body Like a Back Road
LENA
October
When I wake up, I’m in Patrick’s bed. The fire is off.
In fact, the floor is clean of the dirt and leaves we left behind. I sink back into the pillows, let myself feel everything we did last night. There’s a pleasant ache in my upper thighs, and a soreness between them. My mouth is swollen and when I trace my lips, I remember every single thing I used it for.
“Patrick?” I say his name and rub my eyes.
The window shades are still drawn and the bathroom door is wide open. I don’t have class today, thank goodness because I don’t know how I would be able to get my life together after the ups and downs of the last twenty-four hours. I don’t even remember falling asleep.
I get out of bed and open the door. I can’t believe my ears. There’s music coming from downstairs. I realize that I’m naked and covered in sex, so I return to the shower where everything started. There’s something about this quiet, this stillness of the shower that I appreciate. It’s like he knew that I would need to be by myself for a little while. Or maybe he just wants to avoid the awkwardness of the morning after.
After rummaging through one of Patrick’s drawers for clothes, I go downstairs. Patrick is making breakfast. I can’t believe my eyes. He’s in a long-sleeve white undershirt that hugs his muscles. In the morning light, his rumpled beauty steals my breath. His hair is long enough that he can tie a length of it at the nape. Strands of it escape as he turns to grab a packet of bacon. He blows the hair out of his face in a gesture that is somehow incredibly sexy in its sweetness.
He’s listening to a song I can’t name, but the only word I catch is “Cadillac” and that’s when I let my presence be known with a laugh.
Patrick turns to me, and I see the moment he thinks about retreating. One moment he’s confidently moving back and forth between the kitchen island and then when he sees me, he stops. He stares. He lowers his eyes. But only for a moment.
Oh fuck. It’s awkward. Neither of us really close the space but stay right where we are.
“I thought you might sleep a little longer,” he says, settling bright green eyes on me. “I could get used to this look on you.”
In one of his soft white T-shirts and shamrock boxers, I twirl in place. His eyes lock on the chocolate circles of my nipples where his shirt is see-through. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the shamrock tattoo on your ass.”
He barks a laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh this way. “My parting gift from when I lived in Vegas.”
“I’m going to need that story,” I say, still keeping my distance.
His smile turns rueful. “Come here,” he says, and those two little words seem to break the spell between us. I go to him, his arms extended and waiting.
I reach for his lips with mine and taste the sweetness of orange juice on his tongue. He kisses me slowly, holds me hard, pulls me closer. His kiss has a different effect than it did last night. Now, we are in the light and we can’t blame our actions on a spur of the moment, on adrenaline, on the tornado of hormones and emotions we felt in such a short span of time.
This kiss is his promise to try harder. It is the kind of kiss that sends arrows of pleasure through my limbs, it makes me want more. I know he feels the same when I feel his erection strain through his sweat pants.
“We should probably talk about some things we did that were reckless,” I say, between kisses.
“We really should.” He grips my middle and lifts me up on the countertop so we’re face-to-face. How can two people line up so perfectly? He gives a tiny thrust of his pelvis, putting pressure against the wet fabric of my borrowed boxers. Lucky indeed.
“Last night was—” I search for the right word but it’s hard to put just one to it. Amazing feels trite. Perfect feels too romantic. “Everything.”
He threads his fingers between mine and kisses my forehead. God, I love his little touches. “But?”
“I have never had sex without a condom before,” I say. “And it’s sort of scary that I want to do things like that with you.”
When he lowers his face to mine, he looks deep into my eyes. “You’re right. Before you, the last time I slept with anyone was the morning of the premiere. I was reckless, but the good thing about almost dying is that they run every test.”
I know that he’s trying to joke but I see the twinge on his forehead. “Pat . . .”
“Kayli gave me a clean bill of health. But we should have used a condom. Are you on the pill?”
“I have copper in my uterus,” I tell him.
“What?”
“An IUD.”
“A . . . bomb?”
“Not an IED. Intrauterine device. It’s birth control.” I laugh, falling back on the counter and he follows, kissing my throat. It is so easy for me to forget myself and sink into his touch. I’ve never wanted someone like this before—so much I want to forget reason and logic and responsibility.
“Do you feel okay from last night?” he whispers, nipping my earlobe and sucking it into his mouth.
That sends an unexpected sensation down my collarbone and into my center. “I’m a little sore, but I want you.”
He tugs my boxers off, and I squeal at how cold the marble top is on my skin. He cups my ass with his hands, squeezing and rubbing warmth into my skin.
I push down his sweats by the waistband in a frantic rush, then use the sides of my feet to get them completely down. I seize his cock with both hands and watch the pleasure move across his face as his eyelids flutter when I begin to stroke up and down.
“Now.”
He breathes hard. “Then spread your fucking legs.”
My breath hitches at the command in his voice, and my knees inexplicably drop to either side. He rests his glorious cock on my slit, a crooked grin on his mouth as I squirm with expectation.
“Patrick,” I sigh, toying with my hard nipples. “I want you now.”
“How badly do you want me?”
“More than I want to breathe.”
At my words, he makes a wordless groan and catches my mouth in his. He pulls back his hips and enters me with a hard grunt. He pumps inside me faster than last night, and I match his pace with a frenzied pulse thrumming through me because I want this feeling, need this feeling to never stop.
And then it does.
Patrick jerks off me. �
��Oh fuck.”
The fire alarm goes off, the kitchen filling with smoke. The bacon and the entire pan are burned beyond recognition.
He grabs the pan handle and hisses because it must be hot. Then he turns off the burner.
“You okay?” I ask, pulling my shirt down.
He looks at his hand, the red line across it. I wonder what he thinks when he sees it. But when he turns to me, he isn’t thinking about his nonthreatening burn.
“Who said you could get dressed?” he asks, a deep frown between his brows.
“I thought that’s all you had for me today,” I tease, leaning back on my elbows, extending my leg out to him. He catches it, kisses the inside of my knee and keeps moving up. His tongue draws out a moan when he licks up my sex.
“I’ll show you what I have for you,” he says, and the vibration of his laugh hums on my skin.
I brush his hair away from his face, trace the smooth outline of his right jaw. “So, not bacon.”
“Well, if you don’t want it.”
“Please, Patrick,” I sigh. I run two fingers between my wet folds and close my eyes at the shocks of sensation that come with it. He wrenches my hand and takes my fingers into his mouth. His tongue smothers and licks.
“I want to be the only one to taste you,” he says, and nuzzles into my neck. “I want to be the only one to fuck you.”
With the alarm blaring, I feel disoriented, dizzy. If there were a real fire, I have to pause and consider if I’d finish fucking Patrick or run out. That thought is a little more destructive than I’d like, but I feel the thrill of it as he sinks into me so deep, I arch my back to take it.
He scoops me into his arms and carries me. I wrap my legs around him tighter, the pressure of our pelvises together feels so fucking good as I bounce against him down the hall and into one of the guest rooms. It’s the first room that I finished.
We fall into bed with him on top of me, the weight of him squeezing sounds of pleasure from my throat until I come around him and he follows moments later. When he rolls off me, we lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The day is gray outside but at least there is color in here.
