For the Roses [Suncoast Society]

by Tymber Dalton

  If she had to, she could always talk to Eliza about Topping her, or finding her a Top.

  This was something that needed to be settled sooner rather than later.

  It was also sweet that he wanted to cook her dinner. She’d long since gotten over the little bit of stray weirdness that he’d been her teacher. He wasn’t the same man he’d been back then, and she damn sure wasn’t the same woman. They’d both lived a lifetime, been through mental and physical pain.

  Survived it.

  She would drive herself tonight, and had told Ron she’d text him with updates.

  Elvin knew that and was fine with it.

  As she headed over to his house late that afternoon, she felt the nervous tension winding inside her. They’d been talking about tonight, including exchanging test results, even though they were still going to use condoms, for now.

  This was really going to happen.

  She hoped.

  It would happen up to a point, at least, and then his reaction would determine if they moved forward or parted ways.

  When she arrived, she’d only made it halfway up the front walk before he opened the door for her, a smile on his face.

  “Hello, sweetie,” he said as she stepped inside.

  She kissed him hello, letting him take her overnight bag. “Hey, you. Whatever that is smells great.”

  “Pork chops.” He closed the door. “Almost ready.”

  She slipped her arms around him and sighed as he hugged her. She’d grown comfortable hugging him over the past couple of weeks, sinking into his embrace and just…being.

  If he freaks out tonight, it’s going to break my heart.

  Except she didn’t want to think like that. She tried to stay positive and in the moment. The last thing she wanted was to tank this before they even had a chance.

  * * * *

  Elvin approached tonight as if they were going to have a nice dinner together and that was all. He wasn’t going to expect her to have sex with him, or even that she’d stay the night.

  The last thing he wanted to do was put pressure on her.

  Or on himself.

  It’d been nearly two years since the last time he’d been with someone, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

  He set her bag on the end of the sofa and she followed him into the kitchen. “Anything I can help with?”

  “No, just waiting on the timer to go off.” He held up his phone, where it showed eight minutes left on it. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Since mead’s off the menu, I’ll take whatever you have.”

  “Brave woman. Iced tea?”

  “Sure.” He’d taken alcohol off the table for both of them tonight. He didn’t want either of them to have clouded faculties.

  He poured her a glass and handed it to her, pleased when her touch lingered, her hand on his, her gaze locked on him as she took it from him.

  He smiled. “We heatin’ this up now?”

  She took a sip from her glass and set it aside before draping her arms over his shoulders. “I don’t want to lose my nerve.”

  “Whoa, wait. Why would you lose your nerve?” His hands settled on her hips. “We don’t need to do this tonight if you’re not ready.”

  He watched her eyes, the way they suddenly grew too bright, something he’d seen happen before with students trying not to cry.

  And how she quickly blinked, trying to hide that from him, too.

  He pulled her close. “Shh. If you aren’t feeling it, let’s not worry about this tonight, okay? We’ll have dinner, watch TV, and talk.”

  “But I do want to do this.”

  “I’m thinking no, sweetheart. Not unless you can tell me what’s wrong and we can talk it out first.”

  She stepped back, out of his arms, and pulled her shirt off, startling him. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “This, okay? This.” She closed her eyes and tears spilled down her cheeks.

  His gaze swept down her torso, and while he noted her scars, he didn’t care. He pulled his T-shirt off and then reached for her, holding her against him. “Come here, baby,” he whispered. “Let your scars talk to mine, okay?”

  She’d stiffened in his arms at first, then went pliant, crying against him as he leaned back against the counter, her flesh warm against his and feeling so damn sweet he couldn’t begin to put it into words if he tried.

  “You’re not scarin’ me off that easily,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Your scars saved your life. We might not be standing right here, right now, if they didn’t. My scars nearly killed me but they also remade me.” He finally made her tip her head back and cradled her face in his hands until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “Are we eatin’ half naked tonight? Because I’m good with that if you are, but you tell me.”

  Her eyes widened before a snurffly, snotty laugh broke free and she hugged him.

  He rubbed his face against the top of her head. “That’s better. That’s a sweet sound. You feeling a little less freaked out now?”

  She nodded, then her eyes widened again as she really seemed to see his scars for the first time. “Holy cow.” Her fingers traced the largest one on his abdomen, a long, curving scar, bumpy and slightly paler against his darker flesh and all the more visible for it.

  “See? You’re not the only one with scars.”

  She looked up into his eyes. He was about to kiss her again when the timer went off. “Whoops, hold that thought.” He handed her his shirt and turned to grab potholders to remove the pan from the oven.

  * * * *

  Meredith had honestly expected pretty much any reaction from him.

  Except that one.

  Completely unsurprised acceptance.

  She also hadn’t expected him to whip off his shirt like that.

  Yeah, his scars were far worse than hers, and considering some of them ran beneath the waistband of his shorts…

  Along with she wondered what else he had in his shorts.

  She watched as he set the pan on the stove, switched off the oven, and checked the pork chops with a knife and fork. His shirt felt warm in her hand, and she brought it to her face, inhaling his scent. Instinctively, she pulled it on.

  When he turned, he smiled when he saw. “Come here, sweetie.” She walked over and let him pull her into his arms again. “You like my shirt?”

  “Smells like you.”

  His lips nuzzled her forehead. “You can wear it, if you want. I don’t think I’m gonna fit in yours, though.”

  She laid her hands flat against his pecs, her right pinky finger covering another scar there, about two inches long. “I’d rather look at the view, Sir.”

  “Would you now?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She felt him harden in his shorts and couldn’t help shifting her hips against him, teasing him.

  His hands slid down her back, settled on her ass, and he lightly patted her there. “You keep teasing me like that, we won’t get to eat dinner before it gets cold.”

  Tipping her head back so she could look him in the eyes, she had to say it. “I really don’t freak you out?”

  He let out a sigh. “Baby, my biggest fear is I’m gonna disappoint you either in bed or in the dungeon. That’s it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. You aren’t the only one with issues.” He kissed her. “Now, let’s eat, then you can help me clean up the kitchen, and then we can get on with our evening.”

  The pork chops were perfectly cooked, and he’d made a large salad with lots of fresh, raw veggies in it to go with them.

  “So what’s Ron doing tonight?” he asked once they were seated at his table.

  “He was meeting friends for a movie. I need to text him in a little while.”

  “Proof of life?” He smiled.

  “Yeah. Thank you for understanding.”

  “You should be worried if I wasn’t.”

  “True.”

  He’d remained shirtless, and…yea
h. He had scars on his back, too, a couple that looked like burns, and one on his left leg, on his thigh, that ran up under his shorts. He had a few on his scalp, too, smaller ones and slightly darker.

  They silently told the story of how they almost weren’t sitting here, at this table.

  He caught her watching him and smiled. “Second thoughts?”

  “No, Sir.” After thinking about it, she stood, slipped off her shorts and panties, and dropped them on the floor. That left her in his shirt, which hung past her ass. She slid back onto the chair and smiled. “There. Fair’s fair. Now we’re both half-naked.”

  * * * *

  Elvin nearly choked when she did that. He took a couple of swallows of tea to wash down his food and let out a laugh. “Damn, girl. You tryin’ to kill me?”

  Okay, now his cock was tenting his shorts and he was glad he was sitting down.

  Then again…

  “Behave, baby. Hurry up and eat.”

  Her sly, sexy smile didn’t help matters any. But thirty minutes later, they’d finished eating, had cleaned up the kitchen, and she’d texted Ron she was fine and enjoying herself. He gathered her into his arms and stared down at her, studying her features. She’d pulled her red hair back into a ponytail low at the base of her skull.

  “Tell me what you want to do.”

  She wiggled her hips against his. “You. I want to do you.”

  “Naughty girl.”

  “I can be a lot naughtier.”

  Reaching up, she hooked a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He let her, enjoying it, trying to stay in the moment and keep the past safely locked away and silent in his mind.

  He wanted his entire focus to be on her, right now.

  Right here.

  He skimmed his hands down her back, to her ass, cupping her and holding her body against his. The only thing between his hands and her bare flesh was his T-shirt, that she still wore.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said.

  “I want to make love to you.” She nipped at his lower lip. “Please?”

  His control snapped. Scooping her into his arms, he headed out of the kitchen with her giggling, her arms draped around his neck. “That’s the magic word, baby,” he said.

  He didn’t bother with the lights, because with the bedroom door open enough spilled in from the hallway. Maybe it would help relax her a little, too. It’d definitely make him feel a little less self-conscious over his scars.

  In his bedroom, he laid her on the bed and stretched out next to her, letting her set the pace.

  Apparently, that pace was NASCAR. She rolled on top of him, straddling his legs and shimmying down a little so she could reach the fly of his shorts. He caught her hands and pulled her back up, stretched out along his body. At this rate, she’d have him blowing in seconds, and that wasn’t very fair to her.

  He tipped them onto their sides with her cradled in his arms and slowly explored her lips, down her chin, around her jawline. He found the places along the side of her neck that made her shiver and gasp in good and sexy ways that soon had her slinging a leg over his and trying to grind against him.

  And still he would not be rushed.

  Not this time.

  Maybe the next time—if there was a next time—but tonight he wanted to take his time and absorb every square inch of her flesh with his lips. She fit perfectly against him, her body meshed with his like they were made to match.

  So this is what good sex feels like.

  He’d thought he knew, back then, with—

  Nope. Not tonight, Satan.

  Soft, needy mews drifted from her lips, making him smile as he fought against his own insane need.

  He trailed one hand down her front, dipping under the hem of the shirt, his fingers slipping between her legs. Her fingers dug into his upper arms and her back arched. Oh, she was wet. So damned beautifully wet for him. One finger, then a second easily slid into her pussy, and he slowly stroked her. He loved the way her hips rocked in time with his motions.

  Elvin propped himself on his other elbow and stared down into her eyes, his heart twisting even harder when she opened hers and looked up at him. Sweet, brown eyes, her heavy-lidded gaze never left his as he fingered her.

  This playful, sweet woman wanted him. Had someone once told him he’d be right here, right now, he might have been horrified to know that then. But time had tempered both of them, inflicting wounds perfectly shaped like each other, just waiting to come together to heal.

  Of this he was certain.

  With every stroke his fingers also brushed over her swollen clit. He couldn’t wait to bury his face between her thighs and eat her out, but first he wanted to watch her come, stare into her eyes as she tipped over, memorize every sweet sound rolling from that gorgeous mouth.

  Then he’d make her come all over his mouth, until she begged him to stop.

  But he was just getting started.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Meredith stared up into his eyes, heat pooling around her clit as he slowly finger-fucked her. He watched her, intense, slowly lowering his lips just over hers.

  “Is that good, baby?”

  “Uh-huh!”

  Better than good, it was fanfuckingtastic.

  Peter had trouble finding her clit with both hands and a goddamned searchlight-enabled GPS, unless he had his face between her thighs. Then he was great.

  But with his clueless fingers? They couldn’t do the walking, because they were too busy doing what felt more like a drunken stumble.

  Elvin had a magic touch that was quickly driving her toward the edge.

  Warm breath brushed across her lips. “Let me hear you come for me, Meri.”

  Like that, she was there, not just at the edge but over it and falling. The smile that lit his features before he closed the gap and kissed her spun her heart sideways toward him.

  His fingers slowed, then stopped, remaining buried inside her pussy as he devoured her mouth. She reached up and held him in place, her hand hooked around the back of his head and eagerly kissing him. When he slowly pulled his fingers from her pussy and brought them up, her mouth opened automatically, a trained response, she belatedly realized.

  But then he sucked her juices off them and kissed her again, rolling her onto her back before he sat up. “I want more of that.” He moved down her body, shouldering her thighs apart. Then he was there, face buried in her pussy and his tongue circling her clit.

  Her world unhinged, especially when his hands closed around her wrists, holding her in place and quickly tipping her over the edge into another orgasm.

  With a mind of their own her hips rocked against his mouth, wanting more, needing it, her heart already knowing this wasn’t their last and only time together. This was the start of something magic and deep and scary in some really good ways.

  Let your scars talk to mine.

  She couldn’t have told anyone how long she lay there or how many times he made her come. But as she caught her breath, she realized he was up and under the shirt, kissing a trail north from her navel toward the base of her throat.

  Through a valley that no longer existed.

  Her first instinct was to want to push him away, keep him from exploring, but he was faster. He once again pinned her wrists to the bed, this time sitting up, and letting the shirt puddle around her armpits.

  His gaze fixed her in place. “Stay,” he whispered, releasing her wrists.

  He lowered his head and traced the bottom edge of her ribcage with his lips, still watching her as he did. Across her torso, down the other side, waiting to see if she’d resist. “We do this,” he softly said, “then we do it. We get to that point, you’ll belong to me, every bit of you, and I won’t let you hide any of you from me. We clear?”

  She slowly nodded.

  Kissing down to her navel, his tongue traced circles around the outside of it, up again. He caught her wrists and placed her hands over her head, then took the T-shirt and
pulled it up, over her head, until it lay around her wrists. He twisted it just enough in his fist that it held her in place, although she suspected if she resisted that he’d release her.

  He lowered his body over hers and she started grinding against him again, hooking a leg around him, wishing he’d remove his damn shorts so she could go down on him!

  “Tell me what you want, baby.”

  “Please let me suck your cock, Sir.”

  “You want a condom for that?”

  “No, Sir.” She hated oral over a rubber, and they had test results.

  He rolled onto his back, loosening his grip on her wrists but holding the T-shirt. When she pulled her hands free, he lobbed the shirt off the bed.

  No more hiding.

  One of her favorite things was sucking a cock, being face-fucked with it, every messy choking second of it. As she finally opened his fly and slid his shorts and briefs off him, she resisted the urge to throw her head back and howl with joy.

  The man was hung.

  A gorgeous, thick, eight inches, cut, just waiting for her to devour. She took him all the way down, the last little bit gagging her, but she made herself take it.

  Wanted to take it.

  Needed it.

  He was hard and there was no lying about that reaction. She pulled off to the head, enjoying his moans and the sweetly salty taste of pre-cum leaking from the slit. Grabbing his hands, she put them on her head and her moans merged with his when he gently nudged her to take him deeper into her mouth again.

  Yeeeaah.

  She palmed his dark, heavy sac in one hand, more deep, rumbling moans rewarding her efforts. In her mind, she could already envision plenty of afternoons spent together just like this, on her knees in front of him at the sofa, or maybe under his desk in his home office while he tried to grade papers.

  Then he pulled her off his cock and back up into his arms to kiss her. “Baby, I’m gonna blow if you keep that up, and I want to fuck you.” He held up a condom pouch and she grabbed it from him, ripping it open and quickly sheathing him.

  Lying back, she spread her thighs and offered a smile.