From the Ruins

by Janine Infante Bosco

  He moves between my legs again, pushing my shoulders. My head hits the mirror and my back arches as his mouth closes around one of my nipples.

  “Fuck, yes,” I cry, pushing my fingers through his thick hair. Flicking his tongue over the erect bud, he teases me before taking it between his teeth and tugging. The most exquisite pain shoots through me as he pinches my other nipple tightly, taking turns biting, sucking and licking the one in his mouth. I feel his other hand slide between my legs and I lift my ass off the counter, begging for it.

  For him.

  All of him.

  “Touch me. Fuck me. Take me,” I beg shamelessly. He releases my nipple and buries his face between my tits, gliding his fingers between the soaked lips of my pussy.

  “Fuck, Layla,” he murmurs against my skin. “I want these tits in my face and you bouncing up and down on my cock,” he growls, cupping one breast, squeezing it so hard I’m sure he’s bruising me. The pain is delicious and not like anything I’ve ever known.

  “Yes,” I cry, drunk on sensation.

  He pushes two fingers inside of me and grabs my chin with his free hand. He turns my head and brings us face to face.

  “Eyes on me when I touch you,” he commands. “I want to see you,” he asserts, punishing and pleasing me with his fingers. Deeper and deeper he slides, twisting and turning, pressing me in all the right places.

  “I’m going to come,” I whimper as he starts to pull his fingers out. Desperate to keep him inside, my pussy tightens.

  “Shh,” he rasps, lifting his hand between us. His fingers are coated in my wetness and as I gasp for breath, I watch him move closer. “Give me that mouth,” he orders, pressing his wet fingers to my lips. He paints my mouth with my essence and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. In a sudden movement, he takes my mouth with his. His tongue is slow as it licks my lower lip from one side to the other, soaking up every drop he’s covered me with.

  “Lee, please,” I cry as he continues to trail his tongue across my lips. “I need it.”

  “What do you need?” he questions, inching back. Opening my eyes, I watch him kick off his boots. Next, he pushes his jeans down his legs and kicks them off. Standing completely naked in front of me, he wraps his hand around his cock.

  Lifting my head, I part my lips and hesitate as he closes the distance between us, stretching my legs and wrapping them around his waist. I lock my ankles on the small of his back as he takes my face in his hands and runs the tip of his nose down mine.

  “Tell me.”

  “You, I need you,” I whisper, grabbing his shoulders and bracing myself for what comes next.

  “You got me,” he answers, pushing into me. Gasping, my nails bite his flesh as he moves deeper and deeper, filling me. He moves slowly and precisely until his balls are pressing against my ass and I’ve taken every thick inch. Once fully immersed, he stills, pushing my damp hair away from my sweaty face.

  “Ready?” he grinds out.

  I didn’t think I would be.

  I expected to be nervous, to be self-conscious but being with Lee feels natural. There is none of that awkwardness you feel the first time you sleep with someone new. I trust him. I have no idea why but I trust this man with my body, with my mind and with my spirit. Maybe it’s because my expectations aren’t ridiculous and I see him as just a man. A beautifully flawed man.

  Nodding, I give him permission to take me. I surrender my body and hang on for dear life as he pistons his hips and starts to move inside of me. My initial fears of Lee being a three-pump man are quickly put to rest as he rotates his hips and fucks me like it was a skilled sport he mastered.

  The control fades from both of us and it becomes a war between two bodies fighting to feel. Fighting for the reminder that there is life after loss and though parts of us may feel dead, we’re very much alive. His nails dig into my ass and he lifts me from the counter. I wrap my arms around his neck and he spins us around, throwing me against the bathroom door. I grab onto the towel rack as he slams into me over and over, deeper and deeper.

  The sweat drips from his brow as he works me. My pussy pulsates and my eyes roll back as I start to fall over the edge, enjoying the glorious climb my body makes toward an orgasm.

  “You fucking feel like heaven,” he growls. “I’ve never been to heaven,” he adds, sucking on my neck. “Never want to leave now.”

  “Don’t.” I pant. “Don’t stop.”

  “Want you coming all over my dick,” he hisses. “All over me.”

  “Yes,” I cry. “Yes, fucking yes.”

  “That mouth. So dirty.”

  “Fuck me dirty, Lee,” I plead, setting him off. His body slams into mine repeatedly and I start to lose it. My walls clench as my knuckles clench around the rack. A scream pours from my lips as I come.

  I fucking come.

  It’s amazing.

  Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  Something I never want to end.

  “That’s it, come, killer. Drown me in it,” he purrs against my neck. The end of one orgasm rolls into another and it’s too much. I pull the towel bar off the wall and throw my head back as his cock pulses inside of me and his release shoots in warm, wet spurts. The rack falls from my hands, crashing onto the floor as Lee moans into my neck.

  “Holy fuck,” he pants.

  I lean back against the door, struggling to catch my breath as I process what I just experienced. There are no words and so I focus on keeping my limp legs wrapped around him. After another moment, he lifts his head from my shoulder and turns my face so our eyes meet.

  “You’re going to fucking ruin me,” he rasps.

  “Not exactly the words a woman wants to hear while she still has your cock inside of her,” I argue, threading my fingers through his damp hair.

  “Just speaking the truth,” he responds. “I’m just getting started, Layla.”

  Happily sated, I close my eyes and smile.

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Yeah, yeah it is,” he says, pulling out of me. His swollen cock swings between us as he cups my boob. “It’s going to be a long night,” he adds, twisting my nipple between his fingers. “You’re going to be fucked every which way a man can possibly fuck a woman. You may ruin me, killer, but I’m going to fucking wreck you too.”

  Wrecked and ruined never looked so promising.

  Bring it, Lee Jameson.

  I may just be the woman who can take it.

  All of it.

  Every fucking inch.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A chill passes through me as I lean back in the Adirondack chair and bring the cigarette to my lips. Basking in the peace, I run a hand down my bare chest and stare up at the dark sky. Taking Layla in the tiny bathroom wasn’t part of the plan. That sounds fucking absurd considering I’m not a planner. I’m more a fly by the seat of his pants type of guy.

  I tried to resist. Really, I did. I rang her doorbell only intending to inform her I was home like I promised I would. She answered the door with that ridiculous shit all over her face and I was immediately reminded of the chaos I’ve come to feed off. The chaos that comes attached to a five-foot-three woman with a sinner’s mouth. There was no hope after that and any thought of being a good guy disappeared.

  I followed her into the bathroom, peeled that crap from her face and got lost in everything that is Layla. I saw the gleam, the need radiating from those honey eyes and I ran with it. For the first time since Oksana’s death it wasn’t my grief. It wasn’t about fixing the broken parts of me. Sex with Layla was about taking the pieces of me that were left, and making them whole again. It was a reminder that I wasn’t dead. I was very much alive and I was carrying on. I wasn’t just existing, I was feeling.

  I was feeling all of her and in turn she was healing all of me.

  However, that’s a heavy load to carry, heavier than grief. There are expectations that come with rebirth. The dire need to make it work and not fuck up. It�
��s knowing not everyone gets a second chance and for some reason you have been given one. It’s a gift and a burden all at the same. How do you live when you don’t believe you deserve to? How do you embrace the peace and not look to raise hell?

  How do you not ruin it and her at the same time?

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Layla calls from behind me. “I ordered enough Chinese food to feed a small village,” she explains as she steps around me, carrying a tray full of paper cartons. Dressed in a short robe, sporting sex hair and a satisfied expression on her pretty face, she’s a sight. A beautiful sight.

  “Fucked looks good on you, killer,” I say as she sets the tray on the small table next to me. The smile she wears is contagious and I find myself joining in as she tucks her wild hair behind her ears. Stepping between my legs, she takes a seat on my lap and makes herself comfortable.

  A man can get used to this.

  He could die happy just like this.

  The sick thing is, I want to be that man.

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, I sit up and run my free hand down the front of her robe.

  “Fucked feels good,” she replies with a laugh. Her arms circle my neck and she presses her forehead to mine. “Are you running or staying with me tonight?”

  “You think one time against a bathroom door is enough?” I counter, pushing the ends of her robe apart, exposing her tits. Goddamn, they’re fucking amazing; more than a handful and complete with large pink nipples perfect for torturing. They’re my new obsession.

  “Truth?”

  “I prefer that, yes,” I tease as I close my mouth around one of her perfect nipples and suck.

  “I thought about this,” she confesses. “About you and me…being like this,” she murmurs.

  “You thought about me sucking your tits on your back porch?” I say, moving to the other one. That earns me a slap to my bare shoulder.

  “I was worried you were a three-pump and done type of guy,” she reiterates, forcing me to lift my mouth and stare at her. She nods, confirming the truth. “I had high expectations and was worried you wouldn’t deliver.”

  “And I haven’t even eaten your pussy yet,” I tell her, lifting an eyebrow.

  “You’re a cocky asshole,” she says as she smiles and closes her robe. “A cocky asshole that exceeded my expectations,” she adds, climbing off my lap.

  “Then where the fuck are you going,” I growl, pulling the sash of her robe. “Get back here,” I order.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she questions, pointing to the tray.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, pulling myself up off the chair. Glancing around, I spot a lounge chair in the corner. “I’m fucking starving,” I say, grabbing her hands.

  Leading her toward the chaise, I push the ends of her robe apart and point to the chair.

  “Lay down.”

  “Lee.”

  “Now,” I order.

  “But the food,” she argues, biting her lip as she glances between the chair and the tray.

  “Lay the fuck down and spread your legs for me.”

  “What if someone sees?”

  There isn’t anyone in the woods but the fucking deer and I doubt Bambi would mind the show.

  “Then they’ll know how you look when you come,” I growl, shoving her down onto the chair. Getting down on my knees, I spread her legs so they hang over the sides of the lounge before I drag her down the length of the chair. Her ass hangs off the end and her pussy calls to me. Neatly trimmed except for the small patch of hair and wet as fuck.

  “I’m—”

  “Shut up, Layla, or I’ll shove my cock in your mouth and shut you the fuck up. Now, give me that pussy.”

  “I’ve never had someone talk to me like you before.”

  “Pity,” I mutter as I make myself comfortable between her thighs. “Your pussy don’t seem to mind,” I tell her as I trace my fingers down the seam. “You’re soaked.”

  “You’re killing me,” she rasps, laying her back against the cushions of the chair. “Quit talking and start licking.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply obligingly as I spread her lips wide and lick her from ass to clit. One taste and a gasp from her sets the ball into motion. My tongues makes her clit its prisoner and as I shove my fingers through her wetness, I suck and nibble on the bundle of her nerves, feeling her swell against my lips.

  “Shit,” she cries. “I feel it already.”

  “Hold it,” I demand, sucking and fucking her with my mouth and fingers. I don’t want her to come yet. I want her writhing. I want her crying. I want her begging.

  I want her to need me for as long as possible.

  Then she can come.

  And I’ll do it again.

  I’ll shove my cock inside her and own every piece of her cunt.

  I want her dependent on pleasure, pleasure only I can give her.

  “Lee,” she shrieks, lifting her hips off the lounge. Her pussy rides my face, my beard, my fucking mouth. She’s out of control and I love it. “I can’t.”

  “Fucking hold it,” I growl, shoving my fingers deeper as I bury my entire face between her legs. Covered in her, I press my tongue against her clit and curl my fingers inside her. I force my eyes upward and watch as she lifts her head off the back of the lounge and cries out. Grabbing the arms of the chair, her thighs tighten around my head and I watch her close her eyes and lose the battle.

  I lick and suck until I’ve consumed every drop of her release. Still starving, I pull my fingers out of her and shove them into my mouth, devouring every bit I can. Her scent wafts through the air and sticks to me as I lean back on my haunches and drink her in.

  Yeah, fucked looks good on her.

  And it smells even better on me.

  Keeping her legs spread, the robe hangs off her shoulders and I watch her tits rise and fall with every strained breath. My cock can’t stand being left out but experience has taught me it’s more rewarding to be a patient partner. Deciding to let Layla breathe a little, I press the heel of my palm against my raging cock and reach for another cigarette. Pushing it between my lips, I flick my lighter and take a long pull as Layla sits up. She doesn’t bother to fix her robe as she pushes off the chair and walks toward me.

  Looking out of sorts, she reaches for the cigarette and snatches it from between my lips before wrapping her own mouth around it. I lean against the porch railing watching as she inhales and I can’t help the smirk.

  “Help yourself,” I joke.

  “I am,” she says as she blows out a stream of smoke. “It seems only fair,” she adds, holding the cigarette between her lips as she ties her robe. I think about taking another for myself but decide against it. Instead, I push off the railing and walk back to the tray of food.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” I comment.

  “I made a promise to Lexi I’d quit, and I swear I’m trying but it’s hard. If you ever see my garage light on in the middle of the night it means I’m hiding from my kids, smoking my brains out.”

  I laugh, picturing half-pint lecturing her mother as I open one of the paper cartons. Plucking a dumpling out as Layla slinks into the chair next to mine, I pop it into my mouth and chew.

  “This is awful,” I mutter, cringing as I force myself to swallow the rubbery piece of food.

  She flicks the cigarette and nods in agreement.

  “It’s not good warm either,” she offers. “I miss the city,” she confesses. “Everything tastes better.”

  “Not everything,” I argue, tossing her a wink as I rummage through the rest of the shit.

  “Cute,” she laughs. “Seriously, it’s horrible and the pizza? Forget it.”

  She pauses, pointing a finger at me.

  “If you ever tell my kids I said that I’ll kill you. They bitched for months about pizza and I think I’ve finally convinced them it’s all in their heads.”

  I grin as I sit next to her and offer her some Lo-Mein.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” I
assure her as she shakes her head. Glancing at her from the corner of my eye, I take a bite of the thin noodles.

  “What do you miss the most?” she asks as I chew and she puts out the cigarette.

  That’s a loaded question, one that holds several different answers. I miss more than take out, but opening that can of worms will result in a never-ending list of questions.

  “Too much,” I reply, placing the carton back on the tray. I feel her eyes assess me, wishing for more than just the vague shit I continuously supply.

  “The noise,” I add, giving her what she needs. However, it’s not enough. Not for her and not for me. “My routine, my house, my garage…all the things I took for granted.”

  I leave Oksana off the list because that’s a given. I’ll never go a day without missing her or regretting what I took from her. As long as I live, I’ll think of her and wish that she’s at peace. I’ll never bury the memory of her but I don’t need to put that on Layla. That’s my own personal burden.

  Wanting me to continue, she doesn’t respond at first. A moment later she nods in understanding and places her hand on my knee.

  “You don’t have to answer but I’m going to ask anyway,” she warns as she twists around to face me. “What was your life like?”

  “Before I met you?”

  I nod, realizing I’ll take whatever he’s willing to share just to know him better. To know all of him. Who he was in the past and who he is now.

  “The club was my life,” I answer truthfully, sighing as I do. “After my mother died when I was sixteen, I became a punk who looked for trouble. I hated being a kid in the system and I thought being a delinquent was a better fit. I got sent away, did my time and when I was released at eighteen, I found the Satan’s Knights. I busted my ass proving myself and then they patched me in. At the time, I thought they chose me but I’m realizing it was a mutual thing. I chose them to be my brothers and they chose me.”

  Pausing, I reflect on that bit of information and I realize I chose them once again. I swore I wouldn’t, that I was done with all of them, but making them aware of Brantley’s threats and taking those bombs out of the garage was just another instance where I chose brotherhood over everything else.