Wiping Out

by Carrie Quest

  I’m his. I’ve always been his. I might not carry his marks on the outside, but he owns my heart.

  “What are you doing?” Fuck, I wish I could see him right now. My voice is high and needy and a little scared because what if regret is creeping into those dark eyes? He’s silent for a moment and I can’t stay still any longer.

  I grind up into his hardness, making him groan. But he doesn’t lower himself back down. Not yet.

  So I run my hands up his arms, tracing over the smooth skin, feelings the bumps of muscle and the tension as he holds himself above me. I draw stars on his shoulders and tiptoe my fingers up to his neck, where the skin starts to feel slightly rougher, until I’m cradling his face in my hands, my thumbs teasing his swollen lips.

  He’s perfectly still for one, two, three seconds, and then his tongue darts out and swirls around my thumbs. He nips at them, then turns his head and licks a circle into my palm.

  “Did you think I was going to stop?” he asks me. He presses his hips down hard, stilling me, and laughs low in his throat. “The earth could open up and the sky could fall, and I still wouldn’t let you out of this bed, Piper. There’s no way I’m stopping now. I’m just planning everything I’m going to do to you. I need to get from here”—he touches the center of my chest, a feather-light tease of a touch that’s gone too fast—“to here,” he continues, rubbing his hard cock against me. “I’m looking for the best lines.”

  He moves back so he’s kneeling between my legs. “Removing the barriers,” he says, and then I feel his fingers at my hips, and he pulls off my sleep shorts and panties in a whoosh.

  I’m totally naked now, blind and helpless, spread out before him like a sacrifice. He can see every single part of me, all my flaws and scars and soft parts. I’m totally vulnerable in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be with anyone else, but I’m not even scared. Because this is Adam.

  He might leave me. We might part ways tomorrow and never find each other again. My heart might fold in on itself with the pain of missing him. I have no idea what will happen and all of the different futures I’ve been able to imagine are scary as hell.

  But they’re in the future. And right now, here, in this room, I have no doubts. There is no hesitation. I am safe with Adam and I don’t have to see his face to know he is cherishing all of me, even the parts I’m scared to let him see.

  I just wish he’d cherish me a little faster.

  “The quickest way between two points is a straight line,” I tell him.

  “Ah, but where’s the fun in that? It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.”

  “I know it’s been a while for both of us, but I’m pretty sure the destination is a huge part of this process.”

  “Aw, baby, did you just call me huge? Because flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “Will it get me your tongue back on my skin? Because that’s really all I’m interested in right now.”

  “Greedy girl,” he says approvingly. The bed dips on either side of my hips and I reach out, feeling for him, until my hands circle around his wrists.

  “I’m right here.” He bends forward and drops a kiss on the spot he touched earlier on my chest.

  “Ready.” His tongue darts out and he licks up to my neck.

  “Set.” He’s at my ear now, sucking the lobe into his mouth and pulling at it playfully.

  “Go,” he whispers.

  And then he kisses me. I open for him instantly, hungry for his taste, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tastes faintly of mint, and beer, and that mysterious spice that is uniquely Adam and that I’ve been chasing in every kiss since the last time we were together. It’s heaven, and I moan my approval, reaching up to bury my hands in his hair and pull him even closer.

  He knocks against my stupid goggles and I want to rip them off, along with the rest of his clothes and anything else that dares to get between us. I can’t get close enough. He pulls back a little after he hits the goggles, but I yank him back down because he’s not going anywhere.

  “You okay?” he murmurs.

  “It’s fine. Fuck the goggles.” I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and revel in his groan.

  He pulls back and plants openmouthed kisses down my neck, dragging his lips along my skin until he gets to my breasts, which are practically sitting up and begging for his touch. He breathes out a curse, then slowly slowly slowly starts to lick his way down to my nipple, which is so hard that honestly he should probably be the one wearing the goggles. Sexual safety measures.

  He’s writing letters on my breast with his tongue, getting closer to where I want him, and when he reaches my aching nipple and flicks it, I bow up off the bed and scream. Thank god Ben and Nat left this morning so we’re alone in the house.

  He sucks hard, pulling as much of my breast as he can into his mouth, and fuck I would give anything to see him right now. I answer every pull with a kick of my hips because I can feel what he’s doing to me everywhere, like there’s a magic line of tingling energy going from my breasts to my clit and then radiating out to the rest of my body.

  Yeah, he’s definitely found the best lines.

  He moves over to my other breast and I feel the huff of his laugh against my skin when I grab a handful of his hair to hold him there.

  “I’ll be back,” he promises when he finally lifts his head. Then he groans and sucks me in again, one more glorious time, before moving down to my stomach.

  I feel his fingers tracing a heart around my belly button, and then he follows the line with his tongue before burying his face in my stomach and shaking it back and forth until I laugh. I forgot sex could be like this. Passion and silliness and tenderness and want all rolled into one.

  He stops tickling me and I’m panting, breathless from the laughter and the anticipation of what’s coming next. He rests his cheek on my belly for a second, all soft hair and bristly cheeks and hot breath, and then he mumbles something against my skin that I can’t quite hear, but before I can ask him what he said he moves and I lose the power of speech.

  Because he drops to the floor and yanks my hips until I’m at the end of the bed, my legs over his shoulders. He kisses me softly on the little patch of blonde curls. Just once. Just enough to make me whimper and squirm, trying to push myself closer.

  “God, you make me hungry,” he says.

  Then he starts to feast.

  He flattens his tongue and licks from my entrance to my clit, again and again until I’m begging him for more.

  “Please, Adam. I need…” I trail off on a groan as he hardens his tongue into a point and flicks my swollen and needy little bud.

  “I know what you need,” he tells me. And with any other guy I might be tempted to say “well, actually, you’re about three centimeters away…” but not with Adam. Because he knows my body like nobody else ever has, or probably ever will.

  He holds me open and swirls little circles over my clit and the pleasure is so deep and heavy that it’s like a drug, pulling me down, drowning me in sensation. I feel the orgasm coming, everything below my waist tightening and tingling, and then he puts a finger inside me, crooking it up to find the spot the nobody else has ever managed to discover, and I explode.

  I scream again, and if Adam’s other hand wasn’t planted firmly on my stomach, I’d be thrashing off the bed right now. He holds me down, still moving his tongue and finger, drawing out the orgasm that’s rushing through me. It starts at my core and radiates out, pure energy zipping and fizzing through me to the tips of my fingers and my toes and back again. Lights explode behind my eyes, a perfect aurora of swirling colors, and I’m floating. There’s nothing but pure pleasure. Only my body and what Adam can do to it.

  Bliss.

  I drift down slowly, little aftershocks rocking through me as he gentles his licks but doesn’t stop. Like he’s not quite ready to let me go.

  “Come here.” I reach for him and he grabs my hand, hard, like I’m the one tethering him
now when a moment ago he was all that was keeping me on this earth.

  He lifts me up the bed so my head is on my pillow and drops down next to me, pulling me into his arms and holding me tight. I lie there for a moment, warm and boneless, and listen to his breath. When I can move again, I snake my arm down between us to where I feel him, hot and hard against my belly. He lost his jeans at some point and he sucks in a deep breath when I reach into his boxer briefs and pull him out.

  “Fuck,” he grunts. And I remember that nobody has touched him this way in almost two years. I like the thought of that, probably a little too much.

  I rub my thumb over his tip, which is slick and wet, and his hips buck. But when I lower my face to kiss his chest, he stops me.

  “Wait.”

  I hear his heart racing in his chest and can feel his dick pulsing with need against my palm, but I don’t move.

  “It’s just,” he pauses and I hear him lick his lips. “It’s been so long…and I haven’t…”

  His voice is deep with need, but there’s a note of vulnerability there that makes me let go of his dick and cradle him into my arms.

  “I can’t do the things I used to do,” he whispers. “My body and my brain don’t connect sometimes, and I don’t know…”

  “I know,” I tell him, hugging him to my chest.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. I know that I want to touch you. I want to put my mouth on you. I want to taste you. You said I make you hungry? Well, I’ve been starving for you, Adam.”

  He gulps. “It may be a very short meal.”

  I nuzzle into his neck. “Then it will be the appetizer. I’ll come back later for the main course.”

  He tilts his head, giving me better access, but he’s still tense as hell. For the hundredth time I consider ripping the damn goggles off.

  “I’ll stop if you want me to. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But whatever happens is okay with me, you know that, right? I’m not judging. I just want to make you feel good.”

  “Whatever happens?”

  “I’m ready for anything.”

  “Even if I shoot so hard and fast I mess up your eyes?”

  I tap my fingers on my goggles. “Already wearing protection.”

  He laughs and yanks me up so I’m lying on top of him. “I fucking love you, Piper Easton.”

  “I love you too.” And this time there’s nothing sad about saying or hearing those words. We’re safe. I roll off him and work my way down his body, running my fingers and tongue along the grooves of muscle on his stomach until I get to the waistband of his briefs.

  “Okay?”

  His answer is to lift his hips and shuck his underwear off so fast that I actually hear his dick bounce back hard enough to hit his stomach.

  “Yes, please.” That rough, needy voice kills me and the groan he lets out when I lick him brings me back to life.

  I smile and lick around his head, twirling my tongue in little circles around his sweet spot before sucking him down as deep as I can. Then I stop, humming with happiness, and wait a minute because I want to fix this moment in my mind. Adam’s salty taste on my tongue, his moans of pleasure echoing through the room, the silky hair of his treasure trail and smooth skin of his stomach under my fingers. I’m here now, having Adam, and it doesn’t matter what happens next. This moment will always be with me.

  Then I hollow out my cheeks and suck hard, moving up his shaft until I release his head with a loud pop.

  “Piper,” he groans. And I have just enough time to suck him down again before he comes, shooting and pulsing down my throat. I swallow everything he gives me, then crawl back up to lie next to him. He doesn’t say a word, just envelopes me in his arms and kisses my head over and over again, murmuring my name.

  “Sleepy?”

  I’m already drifting off when I hear his voice, so I just burrow in closer and nod my head.

  “Need any more pain pills?”

  “No.” My eyes don’t hurt at all anymore. Who knew orgasms had healing powers?

  He pulls the covers up over us and I drift off as he strokes my back, and it doesn’t matter that I can’t see because I know I’m safe.

  I wake up to the alarm I set when I first went to bed last night. The sheets next to me are still warm, and Adam’s gone, but I can hear him walking around upstairs. I sit up and start picking at the tape around the goggles, my heart pounding. This is it. I thought I’d be nervous taking off the bandages—I’ve had nightmares about taking them off and finding myself blind, or with even worse vision than before. Instead, I’m excited.

  Maybe it’s the afterglow.

  I wince when the tape sticks to my forehead, but a few yanks and I’m down to the thin gauze patches over my eyes. Then it’s just me, blinking in the morning light of my bedroom, trying to adjust to this strange new world.

  Everything is sharp and clear and I play around for a minute, covering first one eye and then the next, testing out my vision and laughing to myself when it’s perfect. A decade of waking up to a blurry world is over. I can see.

  I run to the window and look out at the trees, delighting in the crisp lines of the bare branches against the pale winter sky.

  “You okay?”

  I turn around and Adam’s there, leaning against my door. He’s bare chested, a pair of sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and his hair is a wild halo around his head. He’s carrying two cups of steaming coffee, I can smell the caffeinated goodness from across the room, and he’s giving me my favorite smile. The one that crinkles up his eyes and brings out the brackets around his mouth that look like dimples.

  I see him perfectly and I know, without a doubt, that he is it for me. He is the one.

  I also know that he’s about to tell me goodbye, and that I’ve got about ten seconds to come up with a plan to make him change his mind.

  14

  Adam

  I almost break when she looks at me. She’s sleep rumpled and gorgeous, her hair tumbling down her back and her face creased with pillow lines and marks from the medical tape, which shouldn’t be sexy but somehow are, because they make me want to kiss them away. A secret smile is playing along her lips and I’m so happy to see her eyes again, clear and blue and blazing, that I almost let the mugs crash to the ground, so I can pull her back to bed and keep her there for days.

  But I don’t, because we need to talk.

  “You okay?” I ask again. I’ve been watching her for a few minutes, too enraptured by her joy at seeing the world through her new eyes to let her know I was here.

  “Better than okay. I can see everything.” She beckons me over to the window and I’m a weak bastard, because I put the coffees down on the desk and go. She leans back against me, pressing tight so my chin can rest on the top of her head. She fits me perfectly.

  “What are you looking at?”

  She picks up my hand and holds my fingers up to point. “The trees. Yesterday they would have been blurry blotches, just blending into the sky. Today I can see every single line. They’re so beautiful.”

  My breath catches, because for the first time since I’ve been back, I see it. The beauty. The hundreds of shades of gray in the winter sky and the wisps of whiter clouds rushing back and forth, like waves cresting in the ocean. I see shapes in the stark black lines of the trees; a crone’s fingers beckoning a scared child, a thin man running after an even thinner dog, the bones of summer holding strong and waiting for the flourish of spring. It’s all there, and Piper is showing it to me.

  My fingers twitch for my camera, to capture this before it gets away, but I’m not even sure where I put it during my epic clean out. Fifteen months of practically sleeping with my hands wrapped around the thing, and now I don’t know where it is.

  I don’t rush off looking, though, because Piper’s here in my arms, and I cannot seem to make myself move.

  “Hey, Adam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please don’t leave.”
<
br />   I jerk back and she turns to face me, her gaze strong and sure.

  “I’m not going to leave,” I tell her, which I hope is the truth. Because the fact is I did think about going this morning. When I woke up wrapped around Piper, the smell of her all over and around me, her hands resting on my arms like she was trying to pull me closer, even in her sleep.

  I woke up and I was so in love with her that I thought about running, because we crossed all the lines last night, and if she is feeling even fraction of what I’m feeling, then we’re going to break each other’s hearts.

  “Promise me,” she says. “Until the end of the Olympics at least. Promise that you’ll be with me until then.”

  I drop my forehead to touch hers and close my eyes. “It will only be delaying the inevitable, sweetheart. All the things we talked about before are still true.”

  She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in jagged puffs. “I know.”

  “I can’t stay in Colorado.”

  “I know.” Her voice is stronger this time, steady and even.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper. “And you can’t fix this.”

  I don’t articulate what that means for us, but she knows what I’m getting at. She goes still in my arms and when I pull back so I can look at her she refuses to meet my gaze, staring out the window instead.

  “We need to talk about Japan.” I whisper the words into her hair. “And that summer. We need to talk—really talk—about all of it.”

  A quick nod. “We will.”

  She’s not ready, and I don’t want to push. Hell, maybe there’s no point in hashing out all that sad old history anyway. We’re both adults. Our chemistry is insane and neither one of us is actively trying to hurt the other. Why shouldn’t we fuck like rabbits until the end of the Olympics and then go our separate ways? I want so badly to just say yes and toss her on the bed, but what if that’s just selfishness talking?