Chasing After Me

by R. C. Martin

  “Not going anywhere, babe.”

  My eyes well up with fresh tears at the sound of his endearment. I really do love it when he calls me that.

  “Are you going to tell me why you ran out of my house or what?”

  “Explain?” I gasp, standing to my feet. “You need me to explain?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he mutters, folding his arms across his chest. “I’d like to know why my girl showed up to my party two hours late only to leave after two seconds. I’d like to know why my girl left me to deal with that fuckin’ mess you call a best friend only to bolt before you tell her I’m your man.”

  My whole body jolts as my spine goes rigid, completely caught off guard by everything he just said. “What?” I squeak.

  “Babe,” he grunts impatiently.

  I ignore his tone, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it as I ask, “You’re—you’re—did you just say, you’re—my man?”

  “Good god,” he groans, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair.

  “What?” I cry defensively. “We never—I mean, we never—”

  “We never what? Babe, I call you more than I call my mother. You’ve left study guides and shit on my desk at the shop. I know your favorite order at Lazy Suzie’s. I’m not fucking anyone else. Hell, I’m not even fucking you—and for reasons I don’t feel like getting into right now, I’m okay with keeping my dick in my pants for a while if it means one day I get to sink it inside of you.

  “And while we’re on the subject, you should know one thing for damn sure, babe—no man who’s not your man would let you come by his hand more than a few times without the promise of the same in return. But I’m here, and I’m in this, and I’m yours, and you sure as hell are mine—have been mine since the first time you walked into the shop, Mack. Now—are you going to tell me why you ran out of my house or what?”

  My jaw falls open as I gape at him, completely and utterly speechless.

  “Babe—if you don’t start spewin’ words, I’m going to come over there and fill that mouth with my tongue.”

  I suck in a breath, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth as my legs instinctively press together. Then, shoving aside his speech for a topic to be discussed later, I remember what sent me running. “Brooke—”

  He doesn’t let me finish before he starts closing the distance between us as he explains, “She was showing off. She’d just chugged sixteen ounces from a beer bong while doing a hand stand. She stood up, lost her balance, and I caught her. That’s it.”

  I seal my lips closed, dipping my chin as I look down at his approaching boots. I have nothing to say in response to that. It’s clear to me now that it was stupid of me to run without allowing him the chance to explain. He’s right. For the last month, he’s been giving me reason after reason to trust him. And according to all that he said a minute ago, he’s in this just as much as I am.

  When he’s reached me, he slides a finger along my jaw and then underneath my chin, lifting my head until our gaze’s lock. He studies me in silence for a minute before reaching up with his other hand and wiping away the tear tracks that I’m sure make me look a fright.

  “Why were you late, Mack?”

  His brow furrows as my lip begins to quiver. Just as I start to cry, he pulls me into his arms, cradling my head against his shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, holding on tight as I whimper, “It was Lena. God—I was so scared. I was reading to her and then—the next thing I knew—she was in emergency surgery. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave her until I knew she was okay.”

  “Fuck, babe. Is she? Is she okay?”

  I nod, squeezing him tighter. “She’s stable, but she’s weak. Coder—it was so awful,” I sob.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking.”

  Pulling away from me, he shrugs out of his motorcycle jacket, tossing it onto the foot of my bed. As he bends down to unlace his boots, he grunts, “When I say I’ve got your back, babe, I mean it. I’m a firm believer in being there when the going gets tough.” He sighs, righting himself before kicking his boots off. Then he puts his hands on my hips, pushing me back until my legs hit the bed. I sit, and he proceeds to unlace my sneakers.

  “Know what it’s like to think maybe you’ve got someone in your corner when life is shit, but then turns out you don’t. I’ve got my family, sure, and the Ink crew—but after my accident, I learned real fast that I wanted someone at my back the way Willow has Pete’s; or Grace has Harvey’s; or Daphne has Trevor’s.”

  He pauses, ridding my feet of my shoes before crawling onto my bed. He props himself up against the headboard, opening his arm for me. I follow his lead, curling up against his side as he tucks me against him.

  “I want that. But I want to give it, too. Seeing as I’m your man, you call me when this sort of shit goes down, yeah?”

  I snuggle against him tighter, well aware that my heart has taken a dive in the last ten minutes, and I’ve never been closer to being in love in all my life.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  We sit in silence for a while, and it’s perfect. This is why I went to the party, to see Coder, and to have everything he’s giving me right now. When my eyes start to grow heavy, the excitement from the day catching up to me, I tilt my head back and tell him, “I think I need to go to bed.”

  “You cool if I stay?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

  I don’t answer right away, not entirely sure of my answer. I’ve never spent the night with my boyfriend before. Obviously, my high school boyfriends weren’t allowed to sleep over, and I haven’t had one since I’ve been on my own. Even still, I was always taught that it wasn’t allowed. Beckham and Addie were together for years, and their boundaries were always so nonnegotiable.

  But I’m not Addie, and Coder isn’t Beckham; and as my man once told me, rules were meant to be broken. So, thinking only of how nice it would feel to fall asleep in his arms after the day I’ve had, I offer him a nod in reply.

  “Good,” he says before leaning down to kiss my lips.

  He doesn’t linger long, and when he pulls away, I get up to grab my night clothes from my dresser. I tell him I’ll be back, and then I head for the bathroom to complete my nighttime ritual. I wash my face, then brush my teeth before changing. I usually sleep in just a big, old, comfy t-shirt and cotton shorts, and tonight is no different. I don’t even think twice about dropping my bra in the pile of clothes I wore for only a few hours, too tired to overthink whether or not I should keep it on with Coder in the bed with me. After I let my hair down, I gather my things and head back to my room.

  I shut the door behind me, then drop all of my clothes on the floor next to my closet. Then I notice Coder. He’s already underneath the covers, laying back with an arm curled underneath his head, his chest bare, and his magnificent tattoo completely exposed. I look to see his shirt discarded on the floor. I also spot his jeans and socks along with it. My belly clenches, and I suddenly feel nervous about climbing under those sheets with him.

  Looking over at me, a small smile curls one side of his mouth as he asks, “You good, babe?”

  “Mmmhmm,” I murmur, my voice higher in pitch than I anticipated.

  “Hit the lights, Mack. Get your ass over here.”

  “’Kay,” I whisper, doing exactly as he’s commanded.

  The light that peeks through the blinds of my bedside window is so dim, it’s barely even worth mentioning, making Coder appear as little more than a big, dark figure taking up a huge portion of my bed. As soon as I’m underneath the covers, he rolls toward me, resting on his side before pulling me close against his chest. I suck in a breath, surprised when my bare legs rub against his. I close my eyes, incredibly relieved that I shaved yesterday morning.

  “Mack?” he mutters, earning my attention.

  I open my eyes, even though I can hardly see him as I reply, “Yeah?”

  “Mack?” he repeats, his voice sounding close
r now.

  “Yeah?”

  “Babe?”

  “What, honey?”

  I feel his breath against my lips before he mumbles, “Found it.”

  I don’t have to ask what he means, because his mouth is pressed against mine before my next inhale. He starts off slow and gentle before his tongue seeks entrance into my mouth. I open up for him, allowing him to kiss me long and sweet. His hands don’t wander, and he doesn’t let either of us get carried away before he stops. He offers me one more soft peck, and then returns to his back. He lifts his arm, and I immediately wrap myself around his side, resting my cheek against his warm, smooth chest.

  As I start to drift off, I realize, “You’re missing your party.”

  His lips grazing my forehead, he tells me, “I’m exactly where I want to be, babe.”

  I sigh, surrendering to the pull of sleep as I whisper, “Me, too.”

  I wake with a start, and I’m immediately alert. I blink, my eyes still tired and irritated from crying last night, but my brain too focused on a couple key sensations I feel at the moment—the first of which is the warm, hard body beneath me.

  Yeah. That’s right. Beneath me.

  I am all over Coder—and when I say all over, I mean all over. My sheets and comforter are nowhere in sight. I’m practically plastered to Coder’s chest, my right arm hugging his side, my head tucked underneath his chin, my left leg hooked entirely over his hips. And, as unbelievable as it might seem, my left hand is in his right one, our fingers laced together and resting just beside my head.

  And that’s just what my body is doing.

  Peeking over my shoulder, I confirm my suspicions that what I feel against the bottom of my thigh is his dick, which is very much awake and poking at the fabric of his boxer briefs. This, I remind myself, is a completely natural, unconscious bodily incident that men have to deal with. Yet, I can’t help but think—given that at some point during our slumber, Coder pushed up my shirt and reached into my shorts, where his hand is now resting comfortably around my left, panty-clad butt cheek—that perhaps this is all my doing, having sprawled myself all over him.

  Wishing not to disturb him, I gently settle my cheek back onto his chest, wondering just how I’m to get out of this. The longer I think about it, the more I begin to relax. I tell myself that while Coder has yet to see me completely naked, he is becoming well acquainted with my body. His hands underneath my clothes is nothing new. As a matter of fact, I won’t lie—I enjoy it very much; but after what he said to me last night, I realize that I’m not being fair at all.

  The thought of touching him makes me nervous. I’m afraid I won’t do it right, or that I’ll disappoint him with my lack of experience. I don’t want to turn him off. Granted, I’m not ready to have sex. Actually, as much as I like Coder, and as good as he makes me feel, I’m not entirely sure if sex before marriage is even something that I want. Until now, it’s never really been something I had to think about. I’ve never questioned the rule to wait because I’ve never had to. Now, I know it’s time for me to make a decision that’s mine. Not my parents’, not the church’s, not even Coder’s—but mine. Free will is a gift granted by God, and I intend to exercise it.

  Coder yanks me from my thoughts as he sucks in a deep breath, both of his hands squeezing the parts of my body that they’re holding.

  “Fuck,” he groans. I seal my eyes closed tight, not sure what to do about the crazy tingling sensation going on in my stomach at the sound of his gravely morning voice. “Babe?”

  “Yeah?” I whisper, wondering how embarrassed I should feel right now. All of a sudden, I’m second guessing my decision not to move.

  “I could get used to this.”

  My eyes fly open, a groggy giggle bubbling out of my mouth as I ask, “Really? You’re not uncomfortable?”

  He gives my butt another squeeze before he mumbles, “I’m hard as fuck, but no—you feel good. I always sleep on my back. Having you on top of me is just bonus.”

  “I’m a stomach sleeper,” I admit softly.

  “Obviously,” he chuckles.

  A smile curls my lips, and I tighten my grip around his hand, thinking how much I like waking up with him. We lay in silence for a few minutes, and I can tell by the sound of his breathing that Coder is still crawling his way out of sleep. When his fingers begin to tickle my backside, I’m confident that he’s shaken off any residual slumber, and even more aware of the ache I feel deep in my belly at the feel of his touch.

  “Coder?” I murmur, desperate for a distraction.

  “Yeah, babe?”

  I swallow, willing myself not to rock my hips like I want to, and then I ask, “Last night—when you were, um, telling me that you’d wait for me…” My mouth stops moving and I lose track of my words when his fingers trace underneath the hem of my panties.

  “Hmmm?” he hums.

  I close my eyes, holding his hand even tighter as I force myself to go on. “You said you had reasons that you—that you didn’t want to talk about just then. Will you, um, tell me now?”

  He doesn’t answer me right away. Instead, he traces his fingers back and forth across my skin before slipping them out from underneath the hem. I suck in a quiet breath, burrowing myself deeper into his chest when he dips his entire hand underneath the waistband of my panties, his fingers gripping my bare flesh. He gives me a generous squeeze, and I can’t silence my moan, the ache at my core growing more intense. He grunts and I feel his dick twitch before he starts to speak, his voice husky and low.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are. Not a fuckin’ clue, babe. I like that. You’re honest; even when you can’t find your words, your face tells me all I need to know. You don’t hide from me. I like that, too. You’re sweet and compassionate—so damn compassionate—and you’re smart, but you don’t make me feel stupid.”

  My head pops up, surprised by that last one, and I seek out his eyes before I declare, “You’re not stupid.”

  He smirks, making my stomach clench, and then rumbles, “I know, Mack.” He squeezes my backside again, and my jaw falls open as his eyes darken. “I like that, too. Like the way you see me. Like the way you look at me.” His voice drops even lower before he practically groans, “Like the way you kiss me.”

  I feel my nipples harden as my breath quickens. When he lifts his head off of my pillow, I don’t hesitate to give him what he wants, pressing my lips firmly against his—morning breath be damned. When he begins to knead my backside with urgency, his tongue filling my mouth, the throbbing between my legs becomes so much that I have to do something about it.

  I let go of his hand, grabbing onto his shoulders as I straddle him with my legs. He groans into my mouth, his free hand reaching around to join his other in my panties, holding me still as he lifts his hips, rubbing his erection against me.

  My breasts start to ache and my body is covered in goose pimples, my longing for him stronger than it’s ever been before. When he rubs up against me again, I make the decision to be brave—to be fair—and to show him how much he means to me by taking care of his needs the way he so generously takes care of mine.

  “Coder,” I moan, my lips hovering over his as I open my eyes.

  “What is it, baby?” he asks, meeting my gaze.

  I can feel my cheeks heat up in a blush, but I ignore it and whisper, “I want to—I want to return the favor.”

  “Fuck,” he grumbles.

  In an instant, I’m on my back and Coder is on his knees, his fingers pulling down my shorts. By the time I can think to speak, he’s got them at my ankles. I watch as he tosses them over his shoulder.

  “Wait! What are you doing?” I ask, feeling frantic as he reaches for my panties.

  “Don’t want your hand, babe—need that mouth. Fuck, do I need that mouth. But you wouldn’t be returning any favors if I didn’t give you mine first. Relax, baby—you’ll like it, I promise.”

  The sound of my loud gasp fills the room as he yanks my panties of
f, and I clap my hands over my face as he spreads my legs open wide. My cheeks are on fire, and I feel overexposed and embarrassed that he’s looking at me down there.

  Then I feel it—his tongue (hot and wet and hot!)—sliding up the seam of my center. When he reaches my clit, he pulls away, starts from the bottom, and licks his way up again—this time humming as he ascends.

  “Damn, you taste good, baby.” He licks me again before he demands, “Look at me, Mack. What’d I say about giving me you? Huh? Don’t hide from me when I’m bringing you pleasure.” I peek down at him from over my fingertips. When our eyes lock, he asks, “You like my tongue on your pussy, baby?”

  My chest heaving, my heart pounding, I manage only to nod my head, unable to deny the truth. I like his mouth on me so much, I miss it already.

  “Then drop those hands, babe. I want you to watch me eat you for breakfast.”

  Obediently, I move my hands away from my face, gripping the sheets on either side of me when he thrusts his tongue into my core. He groans again, making my inner walls flutter around his tongue before he pulls out, travels up, and sucks my clit into his mouth. My back arches, and I moan. I can’t believe how amazing this feels.

  He takes his time, his tongue working me up until I’m so tightly wound, I can hardly stand it. He switches between devouring me from the inside, and savoring me from the outside—sucking and licking, blowing and humming—and I forget that I was embarrassed as I watch him. He looks up at me often, his mouth busy, his eyes on fire, making my entire body burn for him.

  When I’m right on the edge, he wraps his lips around my clit, and I become someone else entirely. I fist my fingers in his hair, wishing to keep him right where he is. Then, just in case my tight grip isn’t enough, I whimper, “Coder—honey, I’m—I’m—honey!”

  Before I can speak another word, I come, and I come hard. My body is still shaking when he lifts his head and smiles up at me.

  Crawling over my body, he rests himself between my legs, lowering his face until the tip of his nose touches the tip of mine. “Told you you’d like it.”