by Penelope Sky
He widened my legs farther so he could take all of me, bury that enormous dick inside me. His chest puffed up with every deep breath he took. His eyes were on me, scorching and intense, like he was the predator and I was prey.
I was swept away in the pleasure, lost in the one man who brought me to the sky. “Griffin…” My nails cut through his skin, drawing a little blood so the salt from his sweat could sting him.
He paused for less than a second, his eyes deepening in their gaze. He let out a moan so quiet I wasn’t sure if I’d really heard it. But it was just as deep as always, like a bear growling before it killed its victim. “Fuck, baby, I missed this.” He pressed his forehead to mine, his hips grinding as he rubbed my clit with his pelvic bone.
My arms wrapped around his shoulders, and I felt my body convulse naturally, his movements so good. “Me too…”
He rubbed my clit a little harder before he pulled back and started to fuck me hard. He drove me into the mattress until I was practically swallowed by the pillows, sheets, and his enormous body. His thrusts were deep and hard, and his massive dick hit me in the right place every time.
God, it was so good.
He was so good.
A man had never fucked me like this before. A man would never fuck me like this again. Even if I found the man I wanted to marry, I knew the sex wouldn’t compare to what I had with this man. I would always think about him when my hand was pressed between my legs. I knew I would always want to say his name when I was with the men that came after him. He’d left his mark on me, and nothing I did could ever erase it. “Griffin…I’m gonna come.” My palm cupped his cheek, my fingers feeling the chiseled bones in his jaw.
“I know, baby.” He kissed me, his soft lips moving with mine. “I can feel it.”
After a few pumps, he pushed me over the edge. I moaned directly into his face, my pussy tightening around him as another flood of moisture surrounded him. “Griffin…” I loved his name, loved saying it as I came all over his dick. It fit him perfectly, fit him much better than Bones ever did. My nails drew more blood, but he never voiced a single protest. In fact, it seemed like he enjoyed it.
“Fuck…” He gave his final thrusts. “I’m gonna give you so much, baby. You’re going to leak all over the sheets.”
“Yes…” I grabbed his hips and pulled him into me, taking as much of that cock as I could. “Give it to me, Griffin. I want it…so much.” I missed the feeling of his heavy come sitting inside me, the weight so warm and good. It made me feel like a woman, to have this man’s come inside me. I’d never let a man give me his seed before, and it felt so good to take his.
He gave his final thrusts then released, his entire length inside me as he exploded. I felt the heat between my legs and then the weight. It was heavier than usual, probably because there was so much of it. “Fuck…” He pressed his forehead to mine as he finished, moaning in that deep baritone.
I gripped his muscular ass and pulled him deep into me, loving the way his come sat inside me so perfectly. I loved feeling his heavy and sweaty body on top of mine, the way my nipples dragged against his chest as he moved. My nipples were chafed, but I wouldn’t give up the pain, not when the pleasure was so immense.
When he finished, he looked into my eyes, his gaze dark and intense as ever.
My hands snaked up his back, feeling the line of blood I’d caused. “I’m sorry…I got carried away.”
“Scratch me all you want, baby. I like it when you make me bleed.” He kissed me, giving me his tongue and all of his passion, like he hadn’t just come inside my wet pussy. He kept his softening dick inside me, and within a minute, it was back to full mast.
“Fuck me again, Griffin,” I whispered, my voice erupting as a plea.
He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Yes, baby.”
I slept better that night than I had all week. The sheets were warm, Bones had his arms wrapped around me with his chest pressed against my back, and the apartment felt like the safest place in the world.
I felt safer beside him than I did staying with my parents.
Even though he was a threat to everything I cared about.
I woke up rested and refreshed, and I turned over to see Bones was awake. His eyes were open, and they didn’t contain the same sleepiness that I possessed, so he must have been lying there for at least an hour.
Last night came flooding back to me.
My inner thighs were still wet from his come, and the sheets underneath me were damp from where it had dripped everywhere.
He stared at me with his cold expression, his thoughts a mystery.
I stared back, seeing the lines of tattoos reaching the bottom of his neck.
His arm slid around my waist, and he pulled me closer to him, making our naked bodies come together. He hooked my leg over his hip so he could press his shaft right against my clit. He moved his hips slightly, grinding against me. “Still wet…”
“You dumped a lot in there.”
He squeezed my ass cheek with his big hand. “Not enough, if you ask me.”
I couldn’t hold back the smile that stretched across my lips. “It’s never enough with you.”
“No.” He kissed the corner of my mouth then my neck. “And it’s not enough with you either.” He positioned me closer to him and pressed the crown of his cock inside me. He was immediately met with his come from the night before. He moaned in approval then slid farther inside until he was balls deep.
My hand pressed against his chest as I rested my face near his. I took a deep breath when I felt that impressive stretch, and I barely had the chance to breathe again before his mouth was on mine.
He kissed me as he thrust into me, his cock hitting me perfectly at this angle. His kiss never stopped as he pumped into me, and we barely moved our bodies together because we were wrapped so tightly in one another’s arms.
I got off anyway, his dick so big and my clit stimulated against his body. I moaned in his mouth and then felt him dump more of his come inside me, giving me a refill to start the day. I felt its weight immediately, the warmth heating me from the inside.
He kissed me when he was finished, then gently pulled out of me, his cock acting as a plug to keep everything inside. Once it was pulled away, the come spilled from between my legs again.
He got out of bed and rose to a stand, his impressive back muscles rippling as he moved. His ink made it difficult to see where my nails had cut into him, and it was like the wounds never happened. He pulled on his boxers and walked into the bathroom.
I heard the faucet a moment later and knew exactly what he was doing.
Using my toothbrush.
I found his shirt on the ground, a dark blue V neck, and I pulled it on before I walked into the kitchen. The apartment was still a little cold despite the heater working at full capacity, so I turned it up a few degrees and made a pot of coffee. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood there, thinking about what had happened.
I left town for a week to clear my head, but the second I returned, it was like nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed at all.
I left my coffee black then looked in the cabinets for something to eat.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind me, the way he announced himself before he stepped into every room. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he came up behind me. He stopped directly at my back, his breath hitting the back of my neck. He never snuck up on me, but he always made me wary whenever he was near.
“Want some coffee?” I grabbed the coffee pot and filled a mug. Steam rose from the surface as I set it on the counter beside me so he could grab it. I didn’t turn around to face him directly, not wanting to meet his gaze.
“I want you.” He grabbed my elbow and gently forced me to turn around. He released me when I faced him head on, my hand still gripping my mug by the handle. He grabbed his mug off the counter without looking at it and took a drink, his eyes on me the entire time.
“You drink coffee
after you brush your teeth?”
“What makes you think I brushed my teeth?”
“What else were you doing in the bathroom?”
He gave me his blank stare.
“I’ll pick up a new toothbrush next time I go to the store. You can keep my old one.”
“We both know I’m just going to use whatever one you’re using.”
“Why? Why do you like my toothbrush so much?”
“Because what’s yours is mine—along with everything else.” He grabbed his mug again and took another drink. We stood with my back against the counter, taking up one small area inside my kitchen. His large size blocked me, kept me cornered. He conquered me in size and strength, and his massive chest was level with my gaze.
Sometimes I felt like I was in the company of a giant.
We drank our coffee as we stood there, staring at each other with mutual intensity. I’d just fucked him all night and this morning, but I wanted more. I always wanted more with this man. His sinister and criminal ways seemed unimportant in the face of my overwhelming lust. I also liked this natural connection between us, the way we could be ourselves without explanation. Bones didn’t say much, but I found his silence refreshing. We could coexist peacefully in silence, our eyes doing the talking for us.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Bones spoke. “Sore?”
“A little.”
His eyes flashed in arousal, like he was proud of the pain he’d caused. “Sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “No. No, I’m not.”
I brought my arms up and kept the mug level with my chest.
“If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to tell me so. Otherwise, I’m not going anywhere.”
I wasn’t used to having a choice. Normally, I’d have to deal with Bones the way he was, stubborn and in control. But now I could ask him to stay or leave whenever I wanted. I just had a great night of sex I’d been missing, and now I could kick him out without putting up a fight. I could take advantage of it, but truth be told, I didn’t want him to go anywhere.
I liked this…whatever it was.
When I didn’t say anything, Bones spoke again. “How was your trip?”
“Good…it was nice to spend time with my parents.”
He kept up his emotionless gaze, like that sweet confession meant nothing to him.
“I displayed my paintings at the winery, made cookies with my mother, and spent time with my parents by the fire in the evenings. They love having me around, and they seem so heartbroken every time I leave…”
Still nothing. He didn’t drop his façade of indifference, holding on to his hate despite the affectionate way I spoke of my family. “How many paintings did you sell?”
My heart picked up in speed a little bit, detecting the way he believed in me so naturally. He seemed so confident that I’d sold even one painting, and that belief meant a lot to me…more than it should. “About half…”
“I’m surprised you didn’t sell them all.”
I did my best to fight my expression, but it was out of my control. I felt my eyes soften before they severed the eye contact between us. “Spring is coming soon, so that should lead to more tourists…”
“Then you must have made some decent money.”
“I sold each painting for about three thousand euros…”
He gave a slight smile. “Wow. That means you made at least ten thousand euros.”
“Yeah…about.”
“I told you that you didn’t need to go to university. You’re better than that. You don’t need to train to be an artist. You are an artist.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, his lips soft but aggressive.
I melted at his touch, just like chocolate the second it was popped into your warm mouth. My eyes closed, and I felt the heat circulate through me, the warmth reaching every finger and every toe. “Thanks…”
“Don’t thank me,” he whispered. “I’m telling you something you already know.”
But I wouldn’t have reached for the goal if he hadn’t encouraged me to. Now I was living my dream, making art for a living. Not too many people could say that.
He set his mug down and continued to stand directly in front of me, his size backing me into the corner. The microwave was behind my head, and the stove was to my right. Everything about us was intense, from the way we spoke to each other to the way we stood near each other. Anything could happen within the span of a heartbeat.
“You brought one painting back. Why’s that?”
It was the painting I’d never meant to take to begin with. My mother saw it, and now she knew I was intensely intimate with a man who didn’t have a face. She’d asked me about it, and I did my best to dance around it. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, that I’d found a man I wanted to introduce to the family. Bones was the last man I wanted anywhere near them. “I took it with me by mistake.”
“You don’t want to sell it?”
“No.”
His eyes homed in on my face, as if he was searching for something.
It would only take a few seconds for him to find it.
“The painting you wouldn’t let me see?”
I couldn’t get the words to come out of my throat, so I just nodded.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Can I see it now?” he asked.
My heart started to slam in my chest, and I hoped he couldn’t hear my heartbeat the way I could. “Why?”
“Why not? I’m your biggest fan, baby.”
“It’s just a painting…”
“If that’s the case, why won’t you let me see it?”
I held my mug with both hands, needing something to do with my fingertips. “It’s personal…”
“My name is personal, but I shared that with you.”
I dropped my gaze into my coffee, seeing the black color along with the bit of froth on top. His argument was sound, and there was nothing I could say to counter it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered him to share his name with me. But I wanted to know that name so badly…to say it in his ear when he pounded into me. “I’ll think about it…”
“No.” His quiet voice came out authoritative. “You will show it to me.”
“What happened to my rights?”
“You have your rights. But you owe me. I gave you something, and now you’ll give me something in return. I want to see that painting.”
“It’s just a painting…”
“Then it shouldn’t be difficult for you to show me.”
Fuck. I looked down into my coffee again. “Later…I don’t want to do it right now.”
Bones didn’t press the argument since he finally got what he wanted. “Fine.”
I set my coffee down because my hand couldn’t stop shaking. I listened to it clank against the counter before I crossed my arms over my chest.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he whispered. “I promise you I’ll love it.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about…” I didn’t want him to jump to the same conclusion my mother did. I didn’t want him to see me bare my soul on that canvas. I didn’t want him to see the way I viewed him, the way I stared when he wasn’t looking. I didn’t want him to realize how well I memorized the small details of his body, from the length of his shoulders in comparison to his waist, and the lines of ink that covered his forearms and the back of his neck. I didn’t want him to see how well I captured his soul from just my memory, the way I remembered the night we met so vividly. Even if he was dense enough not to understand what my painting showed, he wouldn’t be too dense to understand that I thought he was important enough to paint…that he meant something to me.
That was the last thing I wanted him to realize.
I never asked Bones to leave, so of course, he stayed. He went to the store and picked up groceries before he returned and started to make dinner in the ki
tchen. I’d never asked him to do something so domesticated. He just left, didn’t tell me where he was going, and when he came back, dinner was cooking on the stove.
He showered, but he remained in his boxers all day, choosing to dress minimally despite the cold temperature of my apartment. The frost never bothered him, regardless of how cold it was. His internal mechanism kept him warm no matter what the conditions were.
I sat at the window and painted on my canvas, taking advantage of the last bits of sunlight before it disappeared altogether. I wore his t-shirt along with a sweater and my jeans, trying to stay warm even though the heater was working at full capacity.
I listened to the sound of the sizzling pan and smelled the meat as it cooked on the stove. Bones hadn’t said a word to me in several hours.
We coexisted—peacefully.
He walked into the living room and suddenly pulled out some firewood from the grocery bags. He set everything in the fireplace, lit it with a match, and then turned it into a billowing fire within minutes. He fanned it for a bit before the flames were steady. Then he dusted his hands and walked back into the kitchen.
I was so glad he couldn’t see my face. My hand shook as I held the paintbrush, the terror gripping my heart. Only people innately comfortable with each other could enjoy the silence and not feel pressured to fill it with meaningless words. Our interaction reminded me of my parents, who didn’t say a lot to each other when they were together throughout the day. I’d seen them eat dinner together on the terrace, not exchanging a single word. It wasn’t because they didn’t enjoy each other’s company—it was because they enjoyed it so much.
Bones and I reminded me of them, of a man and a woman living their lives together. He shopped for groceries, built me a fire when I was cold, and he made dinner in the kitchen since cooking wasn’t my forte.
What the hell was this?
I dropped my brush into the water glass and sat there, looking at my painting without really caring about it. I felt the flames keeping me warm on my left and listened to Bones move around in the kitchen. He had a gorgeous apartment ten minutes away that was ten times bigger than this, and he had a beautiful mansion in the snow, but he chose to be here with me—even when we weren’t screwing.
