by Gwyn McNamee
I wish I could put it off, avoid telling her and just let her have a few hours of calm after everything she went through.
“That was fast,” I say as she travels around the island and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, followed by a knowing grin.
I know she wants to make a “that’s what she said” joke. I can practically see her restraining herself and I can’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” I wrap my arm around the back of her thighs and pull the t-shirt up, confirming my suspicion she is completely naked underneath. My well-worked cock hardens. I’m tempted to pull her down onto my lap for another round right here, right now.
She glances down and smiles as I press my lips to the smooth skin of her ass. “I don’t have any clothes here,” she says with a shrug.
“I’ll have Gabe go over to your place and grab some of your things today.” I brush my lips across her skin, making my way to her stomach. She steps away and turns to face me, letting the shirt fall back into place.
“Why can’t I just go?”
Somehow, I knew this was going to be a fight. I just hoped we could hold off and save all the combat for after breakfast. I’m fucking starving, and my head is starting to pound due to a lack of sustenance.
“Look, we will talk about it later. I’m going to go take a quick shower. Will you make the omelets?”
She scowls at me, her annoyance at my delay evident. “Fine,” she says, grabbing the knife off the cutting board and grabbing one of the peppers.
I retreat to the master bathroom and shower as quickly as I can. When I return to the kitchen, she is just placing plates with the omelets on the table. She grabs the pot of coffee and sits next to my spot, pouring herself a large cup.
“You want some?” she asks with some definite attitude in her voice.
Shit.
She pours me a cup without waiting for my response and sets the pot down on the table.
“Yes, please.” I take my place and watch as she adds cream and sugar to her cup before taking a sip and moaning in appreciation. I much prefer when she makes that sound because of me, and who the fuck knows when that will happen again. The way I anticipate this morning going, I won’t hold my breath.
We eat in silence for several minutes, but I watch her out of the corner of my eye. The tension she carries is evident in her posture and I know she has to be exhausted—physically and mentally. Knowing I’m going to make things worse as soon as we finish this meal makes me quickly lose my appetite.
I push away my half-eaten omelet and sit back, watching Danika scarf down her breakfast like she hasn’t eaten in days. I’m relieved. Part of me was terrified she would slump into some sort of depression, but she seems okay today, more than okay.
I always knew she was a badass bitch, but I know she was affected by what happened last night. There’s no way a human being couldn’t be. The nightmares are evidence enough. I just hope she doesn’t do something stupid, like try to ignore it, like I did.
She drops her fork to the plate with a clank and turns to me. “You done?”
I nod and she scowls. “What? You didn’t like it?”
“No, it was great. I’m just not that hungry, I guess.”
She gives me an incredulous look and grabs our plates, taking them to rinse in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher. I head into the living room, knowing she’ll follow me when she’s done.
Besides, I need a few seconds alone to figure out what the fuck I’m going to say to her. My alone time in the shower did me no good. All I could think about was how fucking incredible it felt to be inside of her. How fucking amazing I felt watching her come apart in my arms.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I head to the couch and pull myself into the corner of it to wait for her. She appears in the archway, with more than a little trepidation in her gaze.
Holding my hand out across the back of the couch, I motion her over. “Come here. Come sit with me.”
She eyes me warily and slowly crosses the room. She stops in front of me, climbs into my lap, and leans back against my chest, resting her head against my shoulder. “You going to tell me what’s going on now?”
I press my lips to her temple, holding them there as long as I can and savoring the feeling of having her in my arms before she gets annoyed at my non-answer. She turns her head to look at me expectantly.
“Shit, this is harder than I thought it was going to be,” I say, running my hand back through my hair. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, what did you want to say last night when you asked me to come over?”
I guess that’s as good of a place to start as any. Truthfully, it’s best we have that conversation right away, because after I tell her about Abello and the rest of it, she may run before even giving me a chance to explain.
“I wanted to talk about us.”
Tilting her head back, she locks her eyes with mine, and I see a hundred questions, and fear. “What about us?”
“I’ve been trying to figure things out.”
Her eyebrow quirks up. “Did you?”
“Some of them. I need you to know, I love you. That never could and never will change.”
“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?”
I sigh, burying my face in her partially-damp hair. “Because, I don’t know if this morning changes anything.”
She turns across my lap and takes my face in her hand, forcing me to look at her. “What would this morning have changed?”
Having to look into the eyes of the woman you love, more than anything, and tell her you aren’t sure you can satisfy her is probably the most fucked up, torturous thing a man can do. I haven’t even said anything and already my chest feels like it has been ripped open and battery acid poured inside.
“That night, when you left…”
She nods, urging me to continue.
“…that wasn’t the first time that happened.”
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it gently. “The first time what happened, baby?”
“That I had a panic attack. The other ones just weren’t that bad.”
“When did they start?”
I knew she would ask. That question was inevitable. So is giving her the answer I know will hurt her no matter how I say it.
“When I met you.”
She freezes, her entire body tensing as she processes my words.
“Danika, listen to me. This isn’t about you. You did nothing wrong. This is about me, and how fucked up I am in the head without ever realizing it.” The tears pool in her eyes and threaten to fall, clinging to her bottom lashes. “Please don’t cry. Let me explain.”
She nods. I wipe the tears from her face.
“You know I haven’t dated anyone since the accident. What I never told you was that for almost eight months after the accident, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to be with anyone again.”
Her eyes widen and I know she understands what I’m trying to say.
“You mean…?” I nod and she glances down at my crotch. Natural reaction to telling someone you were impotent, I guess. “So, what happened?”
I shrug. “Eventually the surgeries were completed and the swelling finally went down. My body was able to recover and some of the nerves regenerated. Let me tell you, I’ve never been so happy to have morning wood as I was that day.”
“Oh, my God! Do you think that’s why Becca left?”
Danika always has a way of getting right to the heart of the matter, and then kicking you in the balls. I should have known she’d see right through me.
“I don’t know, maybe. I’m sure it was part of it. We didn’t know what was going to happen, or what our lives would be like. She couldn’t handle it, and honestly, I don’t blame her.”
“She was a total cunt.”
I can’t stifle my laugh, and I drop my head back before kissing her. “I won’t disagree with that. The truth is
, I never realized what all that, and her leaving, did to me emotionally. I put so much into just getting stronger and getting back to my business, I never really let myself consider anything else.”
“Until I came along…”
I squeeze her hand and bring it to my mouth, brushing my lips across her knuckles. “Until you came along.”
“So, every time I tried to have sex with you, you were freaking the fuck out, and I was essentially instigating a panic attack?” Her tears begin again and I sigh.
“No, baby, don’t think about it that way. It wasn’t anything you did. It was what I was doing to myself. Dr. Cochran made me realize what I’ve been doing, and how unfair it was to you.”
The way she looked at me that night, standing beside my bed, completely broken, I’ll never forget that as long as I live. I never want to see her like that again, especially because of something I did.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I continue. “I just didn’t understand what was going on, or why, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
She watches me silently. For someone who is constantly talking, the silence from her is deafening. I know she’s just processing what I said, but I fear she is over thinking. Finally, she clears her throat.
“So, all this distance you put between us, it was because you thought you couldn’t have sex with me?”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Oh no? Well, I think this morning proved it is that simple.”
Not that simple, not by a long shot. She didn’t know me before. There’s no way she will understand. My frustration grows. I’m trying to figure out a way to make her comprehend my real struggle. “No, it really isn’t.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh and drops back against the couch. “Then explain it to me. I’m not understanding what the problem is here.”
Oh, fuck it…
“The problem is I don’t know how to have sex.”
She bursts out laughing until she realizes I’m not joking. “Wait, you’re serious? Baby, did we not have sex twice this morning?”
I scrub my hands down my face in frustration. “You didn’t know me before. That was not how sex usually went with me before the accident. In case you haven’t noticed, I am a bit of a control freak.”
She rolls her eyes and smirks at me. “No shit. So, what, you were a Dom?”
“What? Fuck no, nothing like that. I just like to be in control in the bedroom, and everywhere else in my life, and now, I don’t know what to do, because I lost that.”
She looks at me, confusion written in furrowed brow and the twist of her mouth. “What makes you think you lost that?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I’m not following you here.”
“Jesus Christ, Danika,” I yell, my anger and frustration finally boiling over. “I can’t use my fucking legs. How the hell am I supposed to fuck you?”
I want to slap him—just haul on off and smack my hand across his beautiful face. I want to scream at him and shake him and rage until he realizes how fucking ridiculous he is, how totally, completely, utterly crazy he sounds at this moment.
But, instead, I take a cleansing breath, slide down his lap, and throw my leg across him, straddling his pelvis and squeezing his hips between my knees.
Taking his face in my hands, I force him to look at me. “Stop. Just, stop.”
“Danika…”
The exhaustion he’s feeling is written all over his face and, even though I know he doesn’t want to hear it, he is going to listen to me.
“No, now you’re done; now you are going to listen to me.” He starts to protest, but I press my hand over his mouth and shake my head. “No.”
He glares at me, but when I remove my hand, he presses his lips in a tight line and raises his eyebrow in question.
“Baby, did you really think I don’t know you have some dominance and control issues? The moment I walked into your office, you radiated power, confidence, control. You exude it, whether you intend to or not. You were the epitome of everything I always sought out, a man who would pin me against the wall and fuck me blind whenever I wanted it.”
He freezes beneath me, his eyes going cold at my words. I know that probably hurt him, but he needs to hear what I have to say, all of it. “Hard and fast was the way I always lived my life, and preferred my sex. I never wanted a relationship. I never wanted love. I never wanted anything more than great sex, and I was happy with that. Or so I thought. You want to know why I came to the club that night, after I had left like a fucking asshole? I came back because I barely knew you and I already wanted something more than I ever wanted with anyone before. I wanted you for more than your cock.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly and he tilts his head to side. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult?”
I kiss him gently and shift closer to him. “It is definitely a compliment. Look, I’m not going to lie. When I found out, I was confused as hell and not sure what I was going to do. Then, when I was in D.C., I kept waiting for you to call or text me like a fucking high schooler waiting to see if her crush is going to ask her to prom.”
He chuckles, squeezing his hands around my waist.
“I’m serious. I wasn’t even like that in high school. This has been a completely new and utterly terrifying experience for me.”
“Being with me is terrifying?” he asks jokingly. He leans in to nuzzle my neck.
“No, being in love with you is terrifying. I’m afraid I’m going to lose you and won’t know how to live without you.”
He pulls back, his love-filled gaze filling me with a warmth only he can provide. “Baby, you won’t lose me, ever. The last couple months have been torture for me, trying to stay away from you.”
Ditto.
“Then, why are you trying to push me away again?”
He recoils slightly, confusion in his eyes. “I’m not.”
“Then stop talking nonsense. Baby, I’m not worried about our sex life.”
“How can you possibly say that?”
“Well, there have to be a thousand different ways to have sex. The Kama Sutra alone has sixty-four positions.”
He groans. “I don’t want to know how you know that. Seriously.”
I roll my eyes and continue, “My point is, we try and figure out what works. And if all else fails, I don’t care if I have to ride you like Seabiscuit.”
His laughter fills my ears and eases the tension in my chest. “Really? Seabiscuit? You need to update your analogies, American Pharoah baby, American Pharoah.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I pull his face to mine and attack his mouth with my own. All this talk of sex is making me horny as hell. I rock my hips against his, pressing down on his hardening cock. His arms come up around my back, tugging me closer until our chests touch, our hearts already racing against each other.
Thank God I don’t have any underwear on, because I can feel the heat of his cock pressing against my flesh through the thin material of his boxers.
“Fuck,” he groans, “you’re wet already.”
I shrug, kissing my way to his ear. “What do you expect? I’ve been imagining riding you like a racehorse.”
He chuckles in my ears and pulls down on my hips, pushing my clit against his hardness.
I growl in his ear. “Take these damn boxers off. Now.”
“God, yes,” he mumbles. I slide down to his knees, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and yanking them down to his thighs, letting his erection spring free.
His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as he yanks me back toward him, capturing his cock between our bodies and crushing his mouth to mine. His all-consuming kiss steals my breath. I let myself go, completely losing myself in him—his kiss, his touch.
Rising up onto my knees, I grasp his cock, positioning the broad head against my wet core. He groans into my mouth. I slowly lower myself down onto his length, his cock stretching and filling me in a
way only he can.
Sweet Christ…YES!
I always believed sex was just sex, but with Savage, it isn’t sex. It’s connecting on a level I never knew existed. As I begin to move, taking him into me over and over again, I can’t fathom living my life without him, without this.
Everything else is forgotten when we are together. His hands are everywhere—my face, my breasts, my clit. I can barely keep track as my orgasm builds, preventing any form of thinking from being even remotely possible.
All feeling; no thinking.
Exactly what we both need—reaffirmation of us, of our future, of our love.
The silence of the room is broken only by our moans and the sounds of our flesh colliding in our race for release.
I finally pull away from his mouth, gasping for air as my body heats and the telltale tingle of impending orgasm starts in my core. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” I cry out and slam down on his dick, grinding against his pelvis, taking him as deep as possible.
He slides his tongue along my neck, then sucks my earlobe between his lips. “Come for me,” he whispers, his voice shaking with his body and I know he is fighting his own release.
I whimper and cry out his name when my orgasm washes over me like a tsunami. Wave after wave of pleasure course through my body, my head spinning and my rhythm falters. He catches my mouth as my orgasm wanes, and sucks my tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own.
Rising above him and slamming down, he groans into my mouth. I repeat the move, swirling my hips, and he gasps, his eyes rolling back into his head and his release explodes in my pussy in hot pulses.
He collapses back against the arm of the couch, dragging me with him and wrapping his arms around me, cradling the back of my head against his sweat-dampened t-shirt.
I relax and just let him hold me, praying this isn’t just some cruel dream.
I clutch her close to me, not wanting even an inch of space between us. I know we both needed that, need this, need the connection after everything that has happened.
That I’m going to have to fracture this beautiful reverie with the truth about Abello breaks my heart. She doesn’t deserve this bullshit, but she has somehow found her way here, in the middle of a shit storm she doesn’t know the half of.
