Rites of Passage

by Catherine Gayle

  “Ravyn?” I asked again, holding out one of the bottles of water. “You hungry?”

  “I didn’t come here for you to feed me,” she said, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what I was saying.

  “No, I don’t suppose you did.” I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed, too, which didn’t make any sense. We both knew why she was here.

  She took the water from me, though, and loosened the lid. When she took a sip, she eyed me over the top of the bottle. “You don’t have to keep playing the good guy, you know.”

  I didn’t know what to make of that response. At all. “What are you talking about?” I wasn’t playing at being a good guy. Hell, I’d only met her a few hours ago, and I’d brought her back to my place for sex. What kind of good guy did that? None that I knew of, which only made me feel worse about the fact that I’d done it.

  But she shook her head and looked out the windows into my backyard and the pool. “So where’s your bedroom?”

  She sure didn’t seem to mess around with anything, did she? That said, her bluntness was refreshing. I hated being given the runaround. Chelsea’d given me more than enough of that to last a lifetime. I didn’t get the sense that would ever be a concern with Ravyn. She might not be forthcoming with every tiny detail of her life, but why should she be? There was no reason for her to open up the closet of her past and give me the proverbial tour, tossing a welcome mat down at my feet.

  Keeping a few things close to her chest was normal. It was smart. But in other ways, she laid everything out there, for me to take as I would. Too bad there weren’t more people in this world who did that.

  I took my water with me and headed down the hall. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  She didn’t waste any time, following close on my heels as I led her to my bedroom. Once we got there, I set my water bottle on the nightstand while she looked around, kind of like she’d done in the kitchen and living room. I apparently hadn’t closed the closet door this morning when I’d left, so she could see all the way in there. I took a moment to chuckle to myself over the irony of the situation—me, leaving my closet open so she could see all the skeletons in there. Not that there was anything she could truly learn about me from my closet. It was a big walk-in that wasn’t even close to being full since Chelsea’s stuff had never been moved in.

  Then her eyes landed on the en suite bathroom. Admittedly, it was enormous, with a separate shower and garden tub, his-and-hers sinks, and a separate room for the toilet. That had been one of the selling points for Chelsea when we’d bought the place. All the space and separation meant we could both be getting ready without one having to wait for the other to get out of the way. But we’d divorced before she ever moved in. With it being only me, it felt like overkill. But it was mine.

  I tried to read what was going on in Ravyn’s mind while she checked out my things, since she wasn’t talking, but she was an impenetrable wall, her face a perfect mask of nothingness. Was it nerves that had her so silent now? Or was it something else?

  But then she turned so she was fully facing me, stripped off her shirt and let it fall to the floor next to her feet.

  Not gonna lie. My mouth watered at the sight of her bare torso and her breasts straining to come free from her bra. “Not wasting any time, hmm?” I said, trying to keep things light.

  If she was already feeling jumpy, then the last thing I needed to do was add to her anxiety. There was no stopping my eyes from roving over her body, though. There was a silver ring with a purple jewel in her belly button. So I’d found at least one of her hidden piercings. My mouth watered as I wondered how many others I might find and just how deeply hidden they might be.

  I stopped my inspection for a moment, landing my eyes on a colorful Japanese dragon tattoo down the side of her ribs. When I moved on, it was to discover more colorful ink peeking out from beneath the cup of her bra. I couldn’t tell what that one was, though. There wasn’t enough showing. But damn if I wasn’t curious as all hell.

  Unlike most of my teammates, I didn’t have any ink. My parents were pretty straight-laced, and a lot of their conservative, traditional values had rubbed off on me. I’d thought about getting a tattoo a couple of times, but I’d always chickened out before actually going through with it.

  And now that I was HIV-positive, I didn’t know if I even should. I mean, yeah, they used clean equipment and whatnot, so theoretically I shouldn’t be putting anyone at risk. But still. There would be a needle puncturing my skin over and over again. In a situation like that, there’s bound to be blood. Better safe than sorry, right? Some risks just didn’t need to be taken, and I’d already put too many peoples’ lives at risk out of my own selfishness. No need to add to that list over something as silly as getting ink on my skin.

  She shrugged, deflecting my attention for the moment. “Don’t see the point in wasting time. This is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” I said with a wink. For now, she seemed to be relaxed enough. I wanted to keep things that way, so I reached overhead and drew my shirt up from behind, the way I’d always done.

  Now it was Ravyn’s turn to check me out. She wouldn’t be finding any ink on me, but she seemed interested enough, anyway, her gaze landing on my biceps for a bit before skittering across to take in my shoulders and down to my abs. She licked her lips. I had to assume she liked what she saw, especially with the way her chest was starting to rise and fall with greater frequency.

  She reached behind her back to undo her bra, but I didn’t want to rush this.

  “Wait,” I said, inching closer.

  She dropped her hands to her sides like she’d just been caught raiding the cookie jar, chest heaving. “Is something wrong?”

  I closed some more of the distance between us, trying to figure out what I wanted with stopping her. “Not wrong, no. I just thought…I could help you.” My gaze fell to her chest again, and particularly to that tattoo that was peeking out from over the top of her bra. I reached out a hand to trace a finger along the delicate fabric.

  When I glanced up, her eyes had darkened, and her lips were slightly open. Her desire was palpable, thickening the air between us. Mine wasn’t far behind. “What’s the tattoo of?” I asked, my fingertip teasing the black outline surrounding the bold pinks, purples, and greens.

  She hesitated. It wasn’t just something I’d imagined, either. Her jaw had dropped for a flicker of a moment, at the same time as something flashed in her eyes. It was gone as soon as it came, though, and she said, “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

  Was I wrong about my earlier assessment, then? Maybe she wasn’t going to be quite so upfront about things as I’d initially thought. But then again, tattoos could be very personal. I knew that, even though I didn’t have any of my own. Just talking to a few of the guys about theirs was enough to educate me on the matter. And while Ravyn’s tattoos could just be for decoration, something told me there was a hell of a lot more to them than simply making a fashion statement.

  Which meant I needed to not make a big deal out of them if I ever wanted to learn what they were. Time to turn on the charm. My lips curled upward in a seductive smile as I slipped the strap off her shoulder and tugged the cup down, revealing a pink heart entwined with a purple and green triangle. The symbol of adoption. I’d recognize it anywhere since it was all over my sister’s house. Melody and her husband, Shawn, had adopted two toddler girls a little over a year ago after several failed attempts with fertility treatments.

  The tattoo covered quite a bit of Ravyn’s left breast, falling directly over her heart.

  She attempted to distract me, flicking a finger over her taut nipple and drawing my eye to the piercing there. It didn’t quite work the way she wanted it to, even though I liked what I saw a hell of a lot more than I expected to. But she didn’t do a damned thing to explain the tattoo. Probably hoping I didn’t know what it meant, I’d guess.

  But even though I knew what it was a sy
mbol for, I didn’t know why she’d have it etched onto her body. Had she been adopted? Or maybe someone she knew? There was no way to know unless she told me, and it didn’t appear she was in the mood to do so.

  I traced over her ink with the nail of a finger, leaving a path of goose bumps behind on her skin. Her tit puckered even more, and she sucked in a breath.

  “What does it mean?” I asked softly, nudging the other strap down so I could free her other breast—also pierced, my dick was happy to report. Not that I expected her to answer. Still—I wanted to know. Wanted her to tell me. To trust me enough to let down some of her guard. I knew it was crazy to want that. Hell, I didn’t know her. Didn’t know a damned thing about her, really. But there was no denying I was drawn to her.

  But she didn’t answer me. Instead, she wrapped both arms around my neck, stretched up onto the tips of her toes, and kissed me.

  I let out a surprised moan, but it didn’t take me long at all to get with the program, picking her up by the waist and crushing her against my chest. She hardly weighed a thing. Her breasts and hips were full, but the rest of her was thin as a waif. But she didn’t give me the chance to linger on that, kissing me with an intensity I hadn’t known I was missing until right this moment.

  Our lips met with almost bruising fervor, then our tongues tangled and teeth clashed. She dug her fingers into my traps, rubbing those pierced tits up and down my chest until my skin felt raw, but I still wanted more. Faster. Harder. Christ, that was hot.

  I kneaded her ass, grinding her softness against my cock. She responded by biting my lower lip and suckling it into her mouth to soothe the ache. Her hands were everywhere. Exploring my chest and arms. Dragging my head down to wherever she wanted me. Reaching for the waistband of my jeans.

  “Fuck me,” she said, her voice husky. “Please. I need you to fuck me.”

  There wasn’t a chance in hell I could tell her no.

  HE’D KEPT LOOKING at the tattoo on my chest and asking questions—about it, about me—but I didn’t have any way to answer him. That was why I’d thrown myself at him. At least at first. But now his big, strong arms were all around me, and he was so damn hard all over, and it wasn’t about avoiding awkward questions anymore.

  It was about scratching an itch I didn’t believe, at least up until a little while ago, I’d ever have properly scratched again. It was about letting this Greek sculpture come to life do what he’d told me he could do and make me feel good, or at least try to. It was about escaping from the hell that was my life for a little while since everyone knew escaping it permanently wasn’t an option, outside of ending things.

  Drew might be a lot more vanilla than any of the men in my life, considering his lack of ink and piercings and his perfectly naturally colored hair, but that was probably for the best. My judgment, when it came to men, was worse than poor.

  Now, if he could fuck even half as well as he kissed, I thought we might get on all right. At least for this one afternoon hookup.

  Because that was all this was. A way to blow off some steam and let go of some tension before real life reared its ugly head again and dragged me back down.

  He carried me a few steps and set me on the bed. He’d barely let go of me before I grabbed at his jeans—I’d already undone the button and fly while we were making out—and dragged them down his hips along with his briefs.

  When he stepped out of them, though, he moved out of my reach. I started to go after him, but he shook his head and held out a hand to stop me. “I’m coming right back,” he said with a wink as he headed for the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a condom.

  Yeah. Probably good thinking. I really shouldn’t be allowed to make adult decisions sometimes, because the thought of protection had never crossed my mind. We might not have to worry about giving each other HIV, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of other reasons to practice safe sex.

  Not the least of which was pregnancy. Of all the people in the world, I should have thought of that.

  I pressed my eyes closed, silently remonstrating myself for sheer and utter stupidity.

  “You okay?” he asked. And damn if he didn’t sound concerned. Again. Why the hell did he have to keep up with the good guy act? Good guys didn’t exist in the real world, and even if they did, I didn’t want him to be one right now. I wanted him to do dirty, dirty things to me, and good guys didn’t do dirty, dirty things to anyone. They made love and other bullshit like that.

  I fluttered my eyes open again and met his gaze, slipping my shorts free from my hips and kicking them away. “Fine. Amazing,” I forced out. At least, I intended to be amazing very soon, even if I wasn’t there yet. This guy had better not be a bad lay, because I needed a good orgasm right now more than I needed my next breath. I hadn’t had decent sex, let alone mind-blowing sex, in so long I wasn’t even sure it was possible for me anymore, and there was no telling when I’d have my next opportunity.

  “I’m clean, other than the HIV,” he said. “But you already know about that. Still, no point taking chances.”

  I blinked. Again with him thinking like an adult and acting like a good guy. I didn’t know what to do with him, other than knock his legs out from under him so we could get on with the dirty stuff. His good guy act was only serving to remind me how bad I was, not to mention how stupid I was acting by coming home with him. I didn’t like it. “I’m clean, too,” I said, reaching for him.

  But he nodded and stayed out of my grasp like a pro. What the hell? Still, even I had to admit it was crazy that either of us would just take the word of the other over something like STDs, but that was exactly what we appeared to be doing. At least we were using protection. We weren’t being complete and total idiots. Only mostly idiots.

  If we ever got on with it.

  He might not be letting me rush him, but a moment later, his attention dropped to the space between my legs. Or, more specifically, to my piercing.

  “No fucking way.” His cock had already been at full attention, but it jerked and bobbed a couple of times as he stared. “Doesn’t that hurt? That’s got to hurt.”

  “Life is pain, Highness,” I replied, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

  He quirked up a grin, so at least he was taking it well. “You just threw a Princess Bride reference at me?”

  “Guess so.” I winked. But I damn sure wasn’t going to slip up and say anything like As you wish to him on accident. No reason to let the guy get any crazy ideas about things, and if he knew one quote from that movie, he was bound to know what they all meant. “Besides,” I said, “everything worth having in life hurts.” And a hell of a lot of other things hurt, too, if truth be told.

  He shot those big, brown eyes up to meet mine, his brow etched with unease. I should’ve kept my damned mouth shut after the movie quote. I didn’t want him to keep pretending to be sweet and caring and all that bullshit.

  “It hurt at first,” I hurried to say before he could delve any deeper. No need to dig into the past when I only wanted sex from him. A good fucking orgasm, damn it. That was what I needed, nothing more and nothing less. “Now it just makes everything feel better.”

  “Everything?” he repeated, cocking a brow.

  I tugged him toward me, urging his hand down to my pussy. He explored the piercing with his fingers, spreading my natural wetness around. I let out a moan, somewhat surprised by how ready I was despite having barely gotten started. I dropped my head back against the mattress. “Makes me more sensitive. There’s always pressure on my clit from the bar, always contact, so I feel every touch just a bit more than I would otherwise.” Or a lot more. Whichever.

  “Is that why you pierced your nipples, too?” He kept swirling the pad of one finger around my clit in gentle circles, with just enough tension for me to know he was there but not enough to really get me off, easing his other hand toward my tit. He caressed my breast with the slightest pressure, like he was afraid he’d hurt me.

  “Th
ey’re more sensitive now, too,” I said, having a hard time remembering to breathe because he was driving me to distraction, trying to carry on a conversation while working my body to a fever pitch. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up saying something I’d regret.

  “Mm hmm,” he murmured, continuing to torment me with delicate caresses. Hell, he hadn’t even tried to slip a finger inside me yet, but I was so wet and swollen I could probably take his whole hand without straining.

  Apparently he was in the mood for a slow tease, not hard and fast, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. I didn’t want slow, careful, cautious sex. I wanted rough, filthy, wild sex. His current pace didn’t line up very well with my plans for how this should go. Not at all. It gave him too many opportunities to try to get past my defenses, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.

  I sat upright on the bed, grasping his erection firmly in my hand. And then, before he could voice a complaint, I took him in my mouth.

  He groaned, but it definitely didn’t sound like a complaint. Not only that, but he put a hand on the back of my head. Not forcing me to take him deeper but softly guiding my efforts as I worked him over.

  Everything with him seemed to be firm but gentle. Fuck that. I wanted to drive him crazy. I wanted him to lose the thin rein of control holding him back. Nothing turned me on more than a man who was so fueled by lust that he forgot to be careful with me, and right now, Drew was being far too considerate.

  His cock was already weeping, the pre-cum salty on my tongue. I swirled my tongue around his head a few times, drawing carnal sounds from his throat. Then I took him as deep as I could, using my hand to stroke the base of him while I sucked like my life depended on it.

  It didn’t take too much of that before I could sense the difference in his response. A bit more of this, and he’d be like putty, willing to just get on with things like I wanted.

  The hand at the back of my head fisted around some of my dreads, growing more demanding by the moment. I gave him a gentle tug on his sac. His balls drew up, tightening like he was about to come, so I backed off and tightened my fingers into a circle around his base, like a cock ring, and kept sucking and swirling my tongue around his head. Sure enough, he swelled even more, and he added his other hand to my hair, directing my movements more vigorously. But my pressure at the base of his cock also held him off from coming too soon.