by Adriana Law
I laugh out loud at his absurd comment. “Why would I want to hit you?”
“Your first time should have been special. If I’d known….”
“It was special, I mean it is. I’m with you.”
“You should have told me.”
“I didn’t think it was important,” I lie, raising my hips as I arch back onto the piano, encouraging him to move.
He groans. “Of course it was important. I would have handled you with the care.” His eyes lower to where his hand is making a slow path out over my skin as if he is admiring every inch, memorizing it by sight and touch. The pain has become bearable, if not fading completely. He pulls his hips slowly back and pushes back in. “I would have treated you like something fragile.”
Okay, suddenly the feeling of him dragging in and out feels good, great actually.
“I’m not fragile, Sterling,” I murmur leaning up, seizing his lips, convincing him to put aside his guilty conscience. My lips move against his, “Finish what you started.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’ll only hurt me if you stop.”
His tongue slips into my mouth pulling a moan from deep inside me. I close my eyes hooking a leg around his thigh, the heel of my foot urging him to thrust forward. I feel safe. Like I’m right where I should be, a feeling foreign to me but welcomed. His hand makes its way out over my shoulder blade, slowly sliding down my arm, lacing our fingers once his reaches mine. He kicks his jeans to the side and lifts me, carrying me across the apartment.
“I’m sorry,” his words are whispered against my lips.
“Stop saying you’re sorry. It’s what I wanted.”
“I’m not saying I’m sorry for before … I’m saying I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.” His voice is deep, sexy. “You’ll be sore.”
“I don’t care.”
My fingers trace out over his shoulder, his flesh several shades darker than my own. On impulse I lean forward and press a kiss to his nipple, my tongue flicking out over one of the piercings that has fascinated me ever since I met Sterling. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and I notice him shiver. I smile loving I can cause such an intense reaction in him. My mouth slowly travels up to his collar bone, his throat, out over his jaw, when my mouth reaches his I kiss him slowly savoring the feel of his tongue moving against mine.
I’m vaguely aware of him walking me backwards toward the bed. We fall back onto the bed, his elbows cushioning the fall. But what will cushion my heart? Nothing will be the same after this. Sterling Bentley will always own a piece of me. He will always own my heart.
“Shit.” He lays his forehead on mine, bracing himself up over me. His eyes clamp close. I can feel his heart racing, his erection captured between our lower bodies.
“I want to make love to you without a condom on,” he says, his voice raspy with need.
Did he say make love?
This is a horrible time to think of needles and prostitutes. No. Now is the perfect time to think of needles and prostitutes.
“We can’t,” I say breathlessly.
“Relax Phoenix, I said I want to. I know we can’t.”
I kiss a corner of his mouth, one of my legs hooking onto his hip.
An hour later we’re spooning, nude, skin glistening with sweat, one of his legs pushed between mine beneath the sheet. His chin rests on my shoulder. His fingers trail leisurely down my arm until they reach my hand; he lifts it bringing it to his mouth where he places gentle kisses on the inside of my wrist, and then on the inside of my palm rubbing it over the side of his cheek. I stretch, bowing into his warmth, the same hand he’d kissed creeping around to the back of his head, my finger combing affectionately through his messy hair. A smile spreads across my face at the thought that I’m the one that made his hair a mess. Well, the two of us together, it was a joint activity. And now I can’t stop touching him and he seems to feel the same way, nipping at the outer part of my shoulder.
“Your turn,” I tell him.
“You sure you want to talk? I can think of a dozen things we can do that is far better than telling each other about our shitty pasts.”
I slowly shake my head, giggling when he tries to roll me toward him so he can have access to my breast. “Uh huh, I told my story. Now you have to tell me yours. It’s only fair.”
He presses me to my back, laying his ear on my chest close enough to my heart to hear it beating. I swallow hard, my stomach fluttering as I continue to comb my fingers through his hair. He exhales a long breath warming my skin. “In high school I’d dabbled with cocaine,” he admits. “Nothing major, just occasionally with friends on the weekends. In my first year of college I secured a rep as a badass and I figured every badass needs a motorcycle. So I bought one with the money my father put into an account; his way of buying my loyalty. I was high on power. I thought I didn’t need anything or anyone. I was arrogant. A real jackass.”
A small chuckle causes my chest to shake. It’s not funny. None of this is funny.
“What?” Sterling’s asks, lifting his head to look up at me.
“You’re still arrogant,” I inform him and he tenses. I get the sense he can’t help it. “I’m sorry. That was mean. Please continue.”
“Oww,” I squeal when he bites the tip of a nipple. He rests his head back on my chest.
“Two weeks after I bought the bike I laid it down in a curve. I was damn lucky. My doctor said I should have died that night and someone must be looking out for me. One second I was the star soccer player with a full ride, the next I was laid up in bed being pumped full of morphine for the pain. Goodbye scholarship. They told me it would take years to get back to where I was physically. When my doctor noticed I was abusing the morphine he stopped prescribing it.” Sterling reaches for my hand dragging it to out in front of his face. He slides his against mine, fingers straight, my hand appearing small next to his. I still can’t get over the fact that he plays the piano. How can someone with so much to offer lose sight of how special he is?
Sterling continues, “I freaked when the doctors cut me off of the morphine and went looking for something that would give me that feeling.” He raises his head again, staring up at me from under the sweep of long lashes. “I wasn’t always like this, Phoenix. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to become a junkie. I’ve spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling, wondering how I got here. I’ve devoted the past couple of years to heroine. It’s getting harder for me to not use.”
I shudder. His hold tightens, pulling me closer.
“I know it sounds horrible,” his voice is hoarse. “Believe me I know. I’m desperate to escape it. The dope sickness is the worst.”
“Dope sickness?” I ask, noticing goose bumps have covered his arms.
He lightly chuckles at my curiosity. “Yeah. The withdraws that make it painful to walk, to talk … hell, being alive is a fuckin’ chore.”
I reach for his chin forcing him to look directly at me. “You made it through the withdraws, Sterling. You’re a lot stronger than you think.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m weaker than you think. I’m going to disappoint you. It’s what I do.”
“Sterling, have you ever been tested?”
“Yes.” He grimaces. “But it’s been a while.”
My stomach drops.
He curses, groaning. “My shit is affecting you.”
I capture his face with my hands forcing him to look at me. Sterling feels a lot of shame and self-loathing. I guess we all do, he just has more shame and self-loathing than most. “Shhh, we used protection,” I reassure him even though I still know there is a risk. There is always that risk when you’re with someone. “We will always use protection until we’re certain.”
His pushes up onto an elbow staring down at me. One of his hands comes up to slip the hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind an ear. His knuckles brush the side of my cheek. “Your skin is like porcelain. Perfect. I’m always afraid I might break
you.” He presses his lips to mine whispering, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not as breakable as you think.” I smile. “I think we’ve proven that tonight.”
He chuckles low. “I’ve fallen in love with you phoenix.”
“Don’t say that to me …” I growl into his chest. He places a finger under my chin, urging my mouth back up to his.
“But, I am … I have.”
I want so badly to say it back, I want him to know my heart is like putty in his hands, but I can’t … the words are stuck. I don’t know why.
“Enough serious talk,” he laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
Love doesn’t follow any rules.
“Hmm, something about me … I want to travel.” I admit. “I’ve never been anywhere other than Colorado Springs.”
Dimples show. “That’s not exactly true.”
“Okay I forgot, the only other place I’ve ever been is here—”
“With me,” he finishes, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose.
“I’m trying to be serious. You said you wanted to know something about me … so there it is. I want to travel the world.”
“Where would you like to go, Phoenix.”
“Alaska, Greece, Ireland, France …” I can tell by the look of boredom on his face and the way he is absently stroking my cheek that he has already visited all of those places. “I know that might sound silly to someone who—” I start all huffy.
“Hey. It’s not silly. I will take you to France.” His expression turns all serious. He presses his mouth to my ear murmuring, “Vous pétez dans votre sommeil.”
Sterling whisper French in my ear is beyond sexy. “What did you say?” I ask him as he pulls back to look at me.
“I said … you fart in your sleep.”
“I do not fart in my sleep!” I insist, horrified. I push against his chest trying to knock him off of me.
“How would you know if you’re asleep?” He seizes my arms and rolls taking me with him so I am now on top of him, my legs on each side of his hips.
“Because I just know,” I continue in between his laughter. “That was mean.” I glare down at him. “Couldn’t you have at least said something nice?”
“Like what?” he says, his laughter tapering off.
I give it some thought. I don’t know much French, but maybe I know enough to piece something together.
“Give me a second,” I tell him.
His arms tighten around my waist as he lifts his head, his teeth grazing my throat. His tongue makes a warm path our over my shoulder. I can feel his erection press against me. “Stop it! You’re making it hard for me to think.”
“Good. I’m tired of talking,” is muttered against my skin.
“I’m serious, Sterling” I respond by moving seductively on top of him. I shower his neck with the same attention, his stubble rough against my lips and tongue. “You had your chance … now I get to have mine.”
He swallows thickly, gripping my hips tight. “I’m listening.”
“Tu es mon feu,” I whisper.
You are my fire.
“Is this where you ask permission to sketch me?” I ask, giving him my best come-hither smile, walking backwards, purposely staying beyond his reach. I’m slightly bent, moving my hips in a playful way. I’m wearing one of Sterling’s dress shirts which—on me—serve as a short dress. Grabbing the collar I flash him some skin since he acts like he is getting bored.
He grins, slowly following me, resembling a lazy panther deciding if it is worth the effort to try to catch me. The boy definitely has swagger. After a quick shower he’d thrown on a navy sweat shirt and a pair of jeans. A navy baseball hat is turned around backwards on his head, pushing his bangs into his eyes. I thought Sterling couldn’t possibly be any more attractive than when he is wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans, but I was wrong. Even with the tattoos covered up by the long sleeves this playful comfy Sterling is sexy as hell.
I’m not sure many people are ever privileged enough to see this side of him.
I may be the only one.
“You want me to draw you?” he drawls, snapping me out of my trance of ogling his body. He gives me a mischievous grin while openly staring at my breast. “If I agree, will you stop withholding what is already mine?”
I continue the slow backwards movement, waiting for him to make a move. I have a feeling he is thinking, hatching a plan. Don’t underestimate the boy. He’s smart.
“Haven’t you ever heard nothing worth having comes easily?” I grin back at him.
The back of my thighs bump the end of the couch and eyes go wide. Opps. He lunges. I spin around and yelp, almost tripping over the arm of the couch. I put the length of the couch between us, smiling triumphantly from the other end.
I continue making my point. “About art. That always happens in books, some insanely sexy artist asking to sketch the extremely attractive girl.”
He snorts and makes another sudden attempt to catch me but I dart out of reach.
“I paint imperfections.” He hesitates, his eyes narrowing on me. “You don’t have any imperfections.”
“Yes, I do,” I smile widely slowly backing up. “I have plenty of imperfections.”
“Where? I don’t see any. Would you be still! I’m already out of breath. I need to save my strength for the real fun.”
“If you don’t see my imperfections, then you’re not looking hard enough.”
“Trust me, I’m looking.” He wags his brows, which only draws my attention to the cute hat getting me all hot again.
“Maybe you’re blinded by lust.” I smirk.
He chuckles low again, the sound’s addicting. “Yeah, you may have a point. I’m trying really hard to be good.”
“So, stop trying to be good.”
“I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever told me to stop trying to be good.”
The piano is separating us now. I’ve really screwed up. The wall of windows is behind me. Only two ways out and he can block either easily.
“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?” He stares over the glossy finish at me, a cocky grin in place.
“You outsmarted me,” I say breathlessly. “You pushed me right into a trap. You play dirty.”
“You haven’t seen dirty yet.” He laughs out loud when he captures me. My body slams up against his, his arms circling my waist. “Face it, Phoenix, you’re mine now.”
His fingers dig into my side and I giggle, wiggling in his hold, fighting to break free.
“Stop, stop, please stop,” I squeal, grabbing both his wrist to imprison his hands so he won’t be able to tickle me anymore. I pant hysterically. We’re so busy wrestling that we forget about the couch and tumble over the back of it. I sink into the cushions with him landing on top of me.
“You planned to do that,” I laugh, surrendering.
“I’m smooth, but not that smooth.” He grabs hold of my hands and pulls me up to sit beside him. He reaches for the glass of ice water on the glass coffee table. Tugging my legs up under my bottom I stare at his side profile as he drinks the water. He lowers the glass, wedging it between the opening in his legs. Smiling over at me he reaches out, a fingertip trailing down the side of my neck causing me to shiver.
“You’re sweating, baby.”
Just that simple touch and the smoldering look in his eyes has my breaths coming out ragged. My nipples harden underneath his dress shirt as if they are bouncing up and down screaming, woohoo touch me, touch me Sterling.
He lashes lower and he tilts his head, leaning over to lick my neck. My eyes flutter closed at the feel of his tongue. He doesn’t just lick my neck, he sucks it. His hands go to my upper arms, his fingers curling possessively into the meaty part. His tight grip speaks volumes of his desire and I moan, angling my head for him to have better assess. His teeth graze my skin and I shudder, then he is back to sucking, moving to the tender spot below my ear.
“Ke
ep this up and I’m going to have to get in your lap,” I warn already rising slightly.
“What’s stopping you?” his breath heats my flesh.
The suction on my neck is broken long enough for his lips to move to my mouth. I raise up on my knees my tongue delving inside his mouth. He makes a deep throaty sound as I make a move to straddle him.
“Hold up. The glass is in the way,” he whispers over my lips. He lifts the glass out of the way so I can throw a leg over and lower myself onto his lap, instantly feeling his erection under his jeans press at my core.
“One second … I’m thirsty.” He grins breaking off from kissing me to take a huge swallow of the water, and then another, and another, watching my reaction the entire time.
Rubbing over the hardness under his jeans I become impatient to have his full attention.
“Seriously Sterling,” I whine. “Hurry it up. You can’t be that thirsty.”
“Patience baby.” I can hear the amusement in his voice. “Haven’t you ever heard nothing worth having comes easily?”
“Oh. My. God.” I punch him and he flinches as if I hurt him. “You are such a butt.”
I snatch the hat off his head, holding it up high, out of his reach. Careful not to spill the glass of water he lifts an arm, wrestling the hat out of my hand and dropping it back in place hiding his hat hair. His cheeks are bright red. If I didn’t know better I’d think Sterling was self-conscience about looking less than perfect around me. This coming from a guy who didn’t care what I thought when he’d brought those girls back to his apartment. If that hadn’t made me won’t to stay away I’m sure seeing hair flatted to his scalp won’t either.
He makes a show of taking one last swallow of the ice water and then leans forward sitting it on the glass table, crushing me over backwards in the process. He draws me up with him as he settles back into the cushion. His hands go to my bottom, cupping it and rocking me forward over his erection. He covers my mouth with his. His lips are still cold from water. As my tongue explores I find the piece of ice he is trying to keep away from me. He laughs into my mouth and I know he wants to play. I can be a very determined girl when I want something and I want Sterling’s ice. Taking control of the piece of ice, dragging it into my own mouth I smile against his lips, victorious.
