The second tattoo is running down his side; a man on his knees in front of a cross, in what appears to be a praying position. There is a banner of script above it that reads: Not forgiven unless forsaken. There is a matching banner underneath the man that reads: Redemption through atonement.
Every line of black ink is beautiful, but holds so much sadness. I've already noticed the girl's name on his forearm, and I find myself wanting to know his story. There's more to him underneath what lies at the surface, but as he finds me looking at each one he interrupts my thoughts. "Don't ask what they mean. Got it?"
"Okay, Haddox." Believe it or not I understand. I have a little ink of my own that I don't want someone dissecting, even though it's not as vague.
He unbuckles his brown, leather belt and pulls it through the loops, making a slapping sound as it slides around his waist. He tosses it on the bed. Unbuttoning his pants, he slides his jeans down his legs and steps out of them; all while his eyes never leave mine. He's standing in black briefs, trunk style, as he places his knee on the edge of the bed, followed by the other.
I begin to crawl backwards toward the center. He follows me as if he's about to pounce. "Spread your legs for me." I'm normally pissed off at the sound of someone telling me what to do, but something about it coming from him makes it okay. I do as I'm told and open my legs for him.
He stops on his knees in between them, his erection making itself known. I haven't seen it released and already its size has my attention. I unintentionally lick my lips. "You want to suck my cock, Piper? You want to try out the hardware?" I look up at him slightly embarrassed I was caught staring. "Ask me."
Am I really about to ask him if I can suck his dick? Isn't that usually the guy's job to request it from the girl? It’s not going to do me any good. I know Cole used to ask so frequently it was a turn off. Why does the thought of asking him if I can, have my panties soaked and getting wetter by the second?
He is standing on his knees before me, rock solid on every inch of his body. I bite my bottom lip, ashamed of what I'm about to do. "May I suck your dick, Haddox?"
"Pull it out." There is something strangely erotic about being told what to do, freeing even. You don't have to think, just do, and maybe that's what makes it enjoyable.
I sit up and hook my hands around the black elastic band covered in royal blue lettering, pulling it away from his body so that his dick can spring free as I slide them down his legs. Seeing it not held back makes it so much bigger than I anticipated. It’s the perfect fucking size: large in all categories without being a fucking porn star. There is such a thing as too big. He places his hand on the back of my head, fisting a handful of my hair. I continue to stare at it. Not only is it long in length, but also large in girth. I have no idea why, but I wait for further instructions. "Wrap your hand around the bottom."
My mouth is beginning to salivate as I imagine placing it inside and I've never liked giving oral sex before. Placing my hand around it, my thumb and fingertips don't meet. "Put it in your mouth." I'm so turned on right now I can't think straight.
I place the head inside my mouth, filling it from cheek to cheek. I relax my throat by breathing out of my nose and swirl my tongue around the head. I can taste the bead of pre-cum at the end, adding a salty flavor. His hold on my hair tightens as I suction, taking him further inside my mouth, and running my tongue along the bottom of his length. I continue until the head is touching the back of my throat. He bucks forward slightly.
I'm just getting started when he pulls my hair, hard, pulling my head back until his dick falls free from my mouth. "Ouch. What the-"
He falls forward and his lips crash to mine unexpectedly, cutting me off mid-sentence. His lips are full and soft, his tongue warm and wet, as it slides through the opening of my mouth. I'm not sure if he wants me to touch him, so I don't. In one motion he unfastens my bra, then removes it from my body. He leans me back against the mattress, continuing to kiss me frantically.
He breaks free to look at me, studying my body in almost full nudity. “Fuck, you’ve got some awesome tits. They’re fucking beautiful.” He cups his hand around one, before swiping his tongue over my hard nipple. “And completely natural,” he says, and then brings his lips back to mine for more.
The taste of him is consuming me. It's nothing I've ever tasted before. It sends me spiraling into another world, a beautiful oblivion. The high I'm feeling right now is enough to hook me, and that in turn scares me. He moans and I'm completely checked out of the real world, flying high in fantasyland.
He moves from between my legs, now beside my body on the bed, never breaking the kiss. I feel like I could kiss him for hours, but the eruption of sensations inside signal that I want more to go along with it. His smell is just as addictive as his taste. He hooks his finger under the crotch of my underwear and pulls them down my legs until I'm in nothing but heels. I kick each one off, causing a thud as each hit the floor.
My hair is becoming matted from him tangling his fingers through it and my lips feel swollen from the roughness of the kissing, but I don't care. Right now I don't care about anything but this moment. As if he doesn't trust himself to let go, he pulls my hair again, separating us. I can finally breathe, but I'd rather have no air than this.
I hear a drawer open and close as he cups my breast in his other hand, placing his open mouth over my nipple, flicking his tongue over the pebbled center. He bites, pulling my nipple outward. It hurts, but makes it harder. He swirls his tongue around it again, as if he can’t stay away from it. He runs his tongue across my skin and between my breasts as he straddles me. On instinct I arch my back. He must have found my tattoo, because he licks the small script that runs down my ribcage on the left side, just below my boob. It's long, because it's a poem I wrote that means more to me than anyone will ever understand, but it's done in small, black script so it doesn't take up a ton of space in terms of width, but the length of flow takes up most of my left side. It’s not readable to most human eyes at a distance.
In one single moment you can evoke so many different emotions. I hate the person that I am because of you. Why do you cause so much destruction in your wake? I may not be your last or your only, but one day you'll look back and realize that I was your best. On that day I hope that I am soaring high in the sky while you slither on the ground, because when I was nothing to you I was everything to someone else; someone that loves me for who I am and not who you wanted me to be.
He stops briefly after running his tongue along each line, clearly reading it. It makes me feel bare. People don't usually read it. I don't think Cole has ever even paid it much attention.
He looks into my eyes as if he's going to ask about it, but he doesn't. Right now we're just two clearly broken people getting lost in the euphoria of one another. What comes out of his mouth, though, I wasn't expecting. "It still won't be vanilla, but I think I can settle for just chocolate syrup and sprinkles tonight. We'll save the exotic flavors for next time. I'm in the mood to try something new I suppose."
I'm trying not to look into the phrase next time too closely, because it's most likely just something said in the heat of the moment. He places the edge of the wrapper between his teeth, tearing the plastic. He removes the condom from the packet, tossing the wrapper aside.
He leans into me and kisses me again, moving down my legs. I can hear him roll the condom on as he spreads my legs with his, positioning himself in between. I'm so lost in him kissing me that I don't even notice he's ready to go until he slams into me, temporarily taking my breath away. I groan at the slight pain that results.
He digs into my hip and begins rotating his in a circular motion as if he's trying to stretch me to fit his size. He's by far the biggest there has been. Pulling back he rams it inside again, causing me to lift my back from the bed, rolling further upward on my head. He releases my lips. "Fuck, you're tighter than I expected. Shit, Piper. I thought you were kind of wild."
He changes position to a stance o
n his knees and sits back on his heels. He grabs me by the waist, pulling me up to straddle him, never breaking contact. He presses downward on my hips, deepening himself inside me. He smirks when I grab onto the back of his hair and begins grinding me back and forth. I can feel the top portion of his dick hitting up against something and shit does it feel amazing.
He quickens his pace and a foreign feeling begins to take place inside my body, causing me to moan out and close my eyes. My head falls back revealing my neck, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He has total control of my body. It feels so good I don't want it to stop.
He kisses the soft indention at the beginning of my neck and runs the tip of his tongue upward in a straight line, nipping my chin between his teeth, before pulling my bottom lip between his. He starts working me harder than before and he presses into me with his hips, making his dick feel so much harder than it was previously. He's so hard it’s all I can think about. It feels marvelous. I don't even really understand why I feel this way. I can get off clitoral fine, but to my knowledge I've never had the famous G-spot orgasm that so many talk about. I just assumed my body didn't work since I'm now twenty-three and nada. "You want to come?" He speaks against my lips.
He continues grinding me against him rapidly. That feeling continues to build. I dig my nails into his neck skin. "Yes. I want to come," I say breathlessly, pressing my chest into his. "Please make me come this way. I want to know what it feels like."
"Not yet." He places one thumb against my clit, rubbing up and down, spreading the wetness to make it slick. He is gripping my side so tight it hurts, but he continues grinding my body flush with his and stimulating my clit with the opposite hand. The pleasure of both at the same time is almost too much. I don't know if I can stand it. I can feel them building in unison. I clamp my legs tighter around him, squeezing my inner muscles. "Haddox, please stop. I can't take it. It's too much. It feels too good."
He growls and lifts into a knee standing position. My upper body falls backward onto the bed from being caught off guard, but he never lets up for one second. On the contrary, he gets faster, pounding into me with his dick and working my clit with his thumb. I scream out. It’s so deep this way. "Fuck, Haddox. I'm about to come. Please let me come."
I grab my breasts in my hands. My nipples are sensitive from all of the extra blood flow and the peak of my arousal. The back of my head is the only thing lying against the mattress. He has me in an upside down angle. "Come, Piper."
As if my body has been waiting for his command, I start to orgasm. The angle that I'm in and the combination of not one, but two different orgasms in unison has me feeling like I'm free falling in slow motion. It is the single most amazing experience I've ever had in my entire life. I'm lost in the fall, not able to process any realistic thoughts, and barely able to keep my eyes open enough to look at him, but I try with everything I've got, because the visual of looking at him while he thrusts into me over and over while grinding my body against his is mind blowing.
"Damn you're hot as fuck when you come. Shit."
As it subsides, I feel refreshed but exhausted. I can't think, I can't speak, and I can't move, but damn if I don't already want that high again. "Here comes the fun part, baby."
He pulls one leg up to rest on his shoulder, followed by the other leg on the opposite. Grabbing each hip for leverage, he begins pounding inside of me relentlessly, changing the direction altogether. Each time he slides out until all that remains inside is the tip, he slams it back inside, burying himself to the hilt. He's so deep this way that it hurts. He fills me completely. I tighten my muscles around his dick and he increases speed once again.
"I'm about to blow my load, but not like this. Move your legs," he orders. I drop them and place my feet flat against the mattress. Grabbing behind my neck he pulls my upper body back up like before as if I weigh nothing, now straddling him. Our lips are only a centimeter apart. "Ride me, baby. Milk my cock."
Sitting back on his heels, he stops, giving me the control. I wrap my arms around his neck for stability and give him what he wants. "You like my cock, Piper? Do you like how it feels inside you?"
"Hell yes. I love your dick."
"Good, because I'm not even close to being done with you yet. This pussy is mine. I like it more than I thought I would… so say it. Whose is it for the time being?"
I'm sweating and exhausted. My thighs hurt from holding my weight as I let my pussy consume his cock, but I can't stop. It’s making me greedy. I don't want to stop. I'm so wet it makes it easy to slide down his length. "It's yours, Haddox; only yours for as long as you want it." I'm not even fully aware of what I'm saying, but I know that sex with him is amazing. It's not even comparable to what I've had with anyone else, so if he wants more he doesn’t even have to ask.
He wraps his hands in the back of my hair and crushes his lips to mine. I come up one last time and he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me off of him and grunting at the beginning of his release. “Fucking shit that feels good,” he says in a mumble against my lips.
Once finished expending himself, I start to feel a little awkward. I have sweated out all of the alcohol and what this is comes to the forefront of my mind. It was nothing short of phenomenal and I'm not ready to stop, but I need to put some distance between myself and him so I don't associate the best sex of my life with emotions, becoming attached by trying to replace what I feel for Cole against my will.
I cross my arms over my chest, attempting to cover myself. I’m waiting for him to start hinting he wants me to leave or for the excuses to start flowing from his mouth. Surprisingly, he kisses me again before getting off the bed; a gesture I wasn't expecting from a guy like him. "Don't cover your body. It's beautiful. When you're around me, I want to see you; all of you."
"If you'll call me a cab I'll get out of your way. I don't know the address for pickup."
"No need. You're staying here tonight. I don't want you wandering around New York this late at night. Psychopaths and sociopaths lurk in the dark. Go into my closet and look in my top two drawers to the right of the door. You'll find my boxers and tee shirts. Pick something out to wear and come get back in bed. I'll be right back."
He disappears from the room and I can finally breathe. He wants me to stay? Why? I’ve known Cole in every way possible and he’s jetting out the door as soon as he can get to it without being a complete ass about it. I can do this. He's no different than any other hook up. I'm just staying one night. He's only being nice because I just slept with him and he doesn’t want to be a dick. I can tell earlier he’s a gentleman to some degree.
I need to slip out before he wakes in the morning to avoid the awkward goodbye for both of us. I'm sure after tonight he will dip out, stop showing up, create excuses to avoid me, or straight up tell me it was a mistake and will never happen again. Whatever the reason, it's always the same. I'm still just the pretty face with a fuckable body. I've not only come to terms with it, but also learned to embrace it.
The light beaming through the large window wakes me up. The full morning light causes confusion. I usually wake up at least once a night having a nightmare, all from my childhood, but not once last night do I remember waking up.
I sit up and rub my hands over my face, attempting to fully wake up. I feel more rested than I have in a really long time. Most mornings I have to drag myself out of bed for my early morning run through Central Park, but right now I want to run.
As if a light bulb turns on in my head, I remember last night. It slipped my mind, because I haven't brought a woman to my place since I lived in that small Brooklyn apartment before I signed my contract years ago, aside from Alyvia that is, but that's a different scenario.
I have no idea what possessed me to bring Piper here, let alone sleep in my bed. That probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. It's too risky with my nightmares, because I talk in my sleep. I don't need to admit to anything out loud from my past and I sure as hell don't want women knowing where I liv
e. I don't like unexpected visitors showing up at my door. I pay a lot for my privacy and I decide when I want the company of a female.
It seems like I do a lot of things different from my normal with her already and I just met her. She is a big question mark to me and I don't like it. Everything in my life operates through a controlled itinerary, because that's how I need them to be. Every way that I am is for a reason. Where most people like mystery, I don't. I despise it. It's never gotten me anywhere but further down the road that leads straight into Hell.
I look beside me, but she's gone. Where would she be? I would have heard her leave. I learned when I was a kid to always sleep with one eye open, metaphorically speaking. In my world you had to always be prepared for anything living with my old man. In reality, I'm a light sleeper. A pen dropping on the floor could wake me up.
The comforter is already halfway hanging on the floor at the end of the bed, but I throw it off of me. Placing my feet flat against the floor, I stand and go in search of her. She could just be in the bathroom. The silence leads me to think otherwise. I look in each room anyway, but no luck. She's not here. Why would she just leave? Damn. That’s probably a first.
Normally, I would be happy for this result. There is nothing more awkward than trying to respectfully push a woman out the door. I may be an asshole, but it's never misled. With that said, I only let a few people into my circle of trust and two of the few have been women, so my respect level for them is higher than most men.
I end up in the kitchen, removing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Before opening it, I set it on the island, followed by my hands palm down on the countertop. What the hell am I supposed to do now? My head drops between my shoulders, closer to the counter as I grip the edges. I linger in my thoughts, deciding what to do next.
Fight for You Page 8
