by Tasman Gibb
“Faith…yeah. I’m so pleased to be working back with Doc again. It’s as if he gets me, you know? He doesn’t have to ask the questions all the others do because it’s like he already understands. Right now, he gives me the confidence that this time it will work. This time I’m going to pass through the tunnel.” While he spoke he’d walked towards her, dropping into a crouch at the sofa near her head.
“I believe you will make it through.” Her belief she underscored by reaching her hand for his cheek in a slow, snake charmer’s move.
He took hold of her fingers, straightening them and pressing her full palm against the side of his face. The warmth of her hand, slightly damp from holding the hot mug of tea, gave him a rush of pleasure. There was no attempt from her to withdraw from his clasp and as he watched carefully for any apprehension he slid her palm down to his mouth, pulling her fingers back to trace her lifeline with the tip of his tongue.
Her gaze never faltered: no startled blink of her eyes, nor twitch of her head. He continued to the base of her little finger, tracking a line across the mounds of her palm, finger to finger and when he stopped, his tongue at the base of her index finger, she flexed her hand from his grip. She turned it a little and covered his mouth and pressed against his nose to hamper his breath. “Do you trust me, Vince?” she whispered, her eyes earnest.
At that moment, he believed he did. He breathed through her fingers, taking in the barest amount of air through the small gap she’d granted him. He nodded, accepting that if she wanted to squeeze harder and cut off his breath, he’d allow her that. He went through several inhalations, working through the jags of panic, the desire to gasp or knock her hand away.
“It feels good, doesn’t it, conquering that battle you’re having, remaining calm as your brain sends requests for more air? Even though I somewhat control the amount of air you get, you’re controlling what you do with it. Your instinct tells you to take my hand away; you know you can do that, but it feels better to work with what I’m giving you. Am I right?”
He grunted his assent. He only had to twist his head, and he would be free from the clasp of her hand, but he stayed with her, curious to know her next move.
“Impulse control. We teach it to the dogs, and it’s amazing the difference in them once they grasp the idea. It stops them being so reactive and gives them a chance to make the right choice. All round, the dog becomes less stressed, because he learns that there is a right choice to make, a way to make it better. This is the control you want over your emotions, yeah? When they’re all rushing at you, giving you too much, and jerking with your arousal, you want someone to smother them so that you can filter them through your psyche, feeding it a meager scrap, and holding back until it begs for one scrap more. Let your emotions trickle over your memories to drag some order into the chaos.”
Her hand was wet now as his rasping breath condensed on her palm. Whenever he moved his mouth, to open it a little, to swallow, she gave his nose a quick squeeze, completely shutting off the airway until he stopped and ceded control back to her. All the time, she remained still. Between them, there was no fight, no manipulation, merely this play with control, backwards and forwards, both accepting and both giving.
The way she made him stronger by taking something so vital away amazed him. She gave him courage through the power experienced each time he curbed a surge of panic. He wanted to swallow again, yet he tried to keep his mouth and tongue from moving, because almost as much as he needed to comfort himself, he needed to obey Lulah’s unvoiced request that he stay still.
He remained in the crouched position by her head, his thigh muscles begging for relief, yet despite this discomfort and brief moments of emotional turmoil, he was getting hard. Was this arousing for Lulah, too? When he pulled from the locked gaze of their eyes to slide a quick look down her body, she made a sound of reproof, tucking her little finger under his jaw to tilt his head back a bit more.
“Stay with my eyes, Vince.”
“Uh-huh.” In trying to speak, his hot breath flowed back over his face.
“Are your legs tiring?”
He shook his head with the smallest movement she allowed, and that helped him to subtly shift his weight. Sure, it was a lie, his thighs were on fire, but there was this odd thought that if he admitted to fatigue, it would disappoint her.
“How’s the chaos in your head?”
Was this a test or a game? Did she have an end result in mind? His thoughts raced along the path of where this might go, returning quickly to the point they were at now, the junction. And how should he communicate with her? Eyes? Hands? If he slipped his tongue between his lips, he could get at her palm with the tip. The commotion in his head—the usual shit—was nowhere to be found, because all he could think about was Lulah and how much he wanted to swipe her hand away, take it over her head, and pin it with her other hand against the arm of the sofa. Fuck, that idea wasn’t helping his cramping thighs nor the struggle for supremacy between his brain and his cock. The only way to answer her was to stay calm.
“The chaos?” She reminded him, the words drawn out.
In answer, he closed his eyes and accepted the calm, and as he did that, he noticed her fingers relax around his mouth, her hand trail back across his cheek to his jaw. Caught her. In one quick move, he rocked from his heels to his knees and gripped her arm, his fingers snapping shut around her wrist. She offered little resistance as he took her hand to the sofa, pinning it alongside her body. The full access to all the oxygen he needed gave him a heady rush over the next few deep breaths.
“Tell me what you want, Vince. When you walked across the room and crouched here, what did you have in mind?”
Joker took their attention as the dog slipped from the sofa to the floor and made his way to join Calliope in her bed. When Vince turned back to her, Lulah eyed the clasp of his fingers around her wrist.
“Touch,” he said. It was the truth. He needed to feel human, to be touched and to feel her warmth beneath his hand, the pulse in her neck, the beat of her heart. Apart from that night in her cabin when she rubbed him to life, he hadn’t enjoyed the hands of another human who cared in such a long time.
There was the hint of a smile in her eyes.
“I wanted to touch you,” he elaborated.
“Do you want to make love to me?”
Fuck yeah, he did. Every cell in his body screamed for her. “Is that what you want?”
“My question, Vince.”
Her wrist moved, and he tightened his fingers. “Yes.”
Now she smiled completely. She was fantastic, this little imp, stretched out on the sofa. He took his other hand to her hip, wrapping his fingers around so that the heel of his hand rested against the dip down to her stomach. Compared to him, she was so small. His hand looked like a bear paw as it rested on her, and he gave her a squeeze. At that, she returned a small nod, her breath a bit quicker.
“But…?”
She wanted him to continue, expected more. Could she sense the way his fear made him hesitate? ‘But’ indeed.
“What are you frightened of?”
Really, everything. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Go on.”
How could he find a voice for this mounting concern? Would she understand if he tried to explain that he had no idea if he could control himself if that terrible beating darkness rolled in. “What if I have a flashback?”
“Has that happened before?”
He shook his head. Nothing had happened before, but he’d heard some terrible stories.
With that she shifted away, and alarm shot through him. Please, don’t go.
“Here,” she nodded towards the space she’d created, “lie with me.”
Could he? He stayed with her face.
“Do it,” she mouthed.
Chapter 15
HE PUSHED TO his feet and stood over her as she lay prone. A deliberate power move driven by some little piece of ego trying to get the upper hand. She gav
e him a saucy grin as she trailed her fingers over the vacant stretch of sofa alongside her. When she tucked her bottom lip into her mouth, he shifted his gaze. Did she have any idea what that did to him? Honestly, he wanted to jump her, right there, strip her of all her clothing, and make her scream his name. Instead, he took every piece of calm he’d assembled over the past hour and called on it as he lowered himself alongside her.
He propped himself on his left side, arm bent, head resting in his hand. From that place, he could look down on her, watch her lively face for reactions to whatever he did. She smiled and went to do that teeth dragging over her bottom lip thing again, but he stopped her with the deft press of a single finger against the center of her mouth. “You, little imp, are a tease.”
She must have agreed with him, because she dipped her head forward a little and captured the tip of his finger with her teeth. He wondered if she really knew this game. With patience, he held his finger still, pretending he wanted to pull it from her mouth. When she lifted slightly and tried to grab hold of it, he instead used the forward motion of her head to do the opposite and slide his finger farther in.
Her eyes shone as she wrapped her lips and tongue around his finger and suckled. Turned out she was with him every step of that move. She teased with her tongue for a bit then pulled her head back into the cushion, trying to break away, but he followed with his finger so that it stayed in her mouth. When she twisted her head, he went with the move before he ducked his head down near her ear. “Imps who tease don’t always get to stay in charge,” he whispered.
She made a small noise and continued to suck his finger. Every stroke she made with her tongue seemed to travel straight to his cock. This had to stop before he exploded. He went to pull away, but she held on with her teeth again. “Lulah, let go,” he growled.
She pulled her lips back in a smile, revealing his trapped finger.
He returned to her ear. “Now, imp, before you bite off more than you can chew.” Her teeth closed harder on his finger, and he reciprocated by catching her earlobe in his mouth and gently biting. She closed more, and he matched her.
“Ah.” She released him and chuckled. “How hard would you have bitten?” she asked.
“I’d have stayed right with you. I wouldn’t have stopped until you did.” His trailed his finger, slick with her saliva, along her chin and down her neck. “Now, why don’t you lie still and behave yourself?”
“Impossible,” she said as she wriggled against him.
He believed that. He continued to run his finger across her shoulder, watching her give a little shiver, a little shrink from the light touch. No bra strap blocked his way, and when he glanced down a little farther, he could see her nipples stiff beneath the thin cotton of her shirt. She must be able to feel his cock against her thigh. He tried not to press against her, but there wasn’t much space on the sofa, and she wasn’t exactly moving away. He continued with his finger, tracing a path, learning more about her with every inch it traveled. At her sternum, he noticed she held her breath. That place was a junction for both of them. Would he continue to her breasts? Left, right, or down? Would he tease her, wait for her to start breathing again before making his choice? He’d already made his choice, but she didn’t have to know that.
“You’ve stopped breathing, imp.”
Her chest rose slowly.
Fucking amazing. Even the way she took a breath kept him hard. He shouldn’t be doing this, he really knew that. Every smattering of sense that still existed in his head screamed no. But what, he should leave the sofa and go back to his carving when the world’s most awesome nipple was trying to pierce its way out of her shirt?
“You’re not wearing a bra.” His voice cracked.
“Not really required uniform with tits this size. They’re not exactly flying about making trouble.”
“I wouldn’t say that, they’re causing me all kinds of trouble.” His concentration broke and she took that moment to seize hold of his finger. He studied the clasp of her small hand, then met her eyes. She had that look that crossed between triumph and challenge. “Let go,” he warned.
“I want you to ‘let go’, Vince.” She squeezed and released his finger.
The way she challenged him made him want to do so many things to her. Did he want to let go? With all his heart he wanted that but he couldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t hurt her. His finger remained at that junction on her chest. If he moved it a little he would feel the beat of her heart. A slight diversion and he’d be messing with her left breast. Awesome. He wanted to watch every reaction on her face as he ran his finger along and over the small curve of her breast to circle her nipple. Oh, yeah, big gasp, barely hidden jerk of her hips. Somebody loves having her tits played with. “Like that, much?”
“I’d like it more if you kissed me while you did that.”
His own hips twitched against her. He hadn’t intended to do that. It wasn’t one of those feel what I’ve got for you moves because it was an involuntary, haven’t had any kind of release for way too long move. It was as innocent as a move like that could be. He hadn’t stopped thinking of a wet, noisy, tongue-fuck sort of kiss since it came to mind that day. In fact, too much had come to mind that day and never left. And every time he’d looked at her mouth since that moment… Jesus, his entire body jumped, ready for action. He lowered his head right down to her lips. “Christ, Lulah, if I start this I may never be able to stop.”
“Perfect,” she whispered back. She lifted her mouth to meet his and fucking delicious, he was right there with it. He met her lips, trying, really trying to be gentle, but he wasn’t any good at sipping water when dehydrated, either. Her tongue found his in this crossing-swords sort of challenge and now that he had a free hand, he cupped it behind her head and brought her hard against him. This wasn’t going to end until he was finished. She pushed her breast against his other hand and he pulled away a little, keeping the play on her nipple teasing, a little too light, a little frustrating. Lulah moaned into his mouth and, hell, his jeans needed adjusting before his dick snapped.
He kept playing with her nipple, rubbing it, circling it. He pulled away from the kiss and heard her little gasp for air.
She ran her tongue across her lips. “Tasty,” she said.
“Stay still,” he ordered, slipping his hand under her breast and drawing her nipple up to his mouth. He latched onto it through the thin cotton and Lulah’s hand reached to his head, holding his mouth to her.
“Are you hungry?” she whispered, then giggled.
Bossy and demanding. He could fix that. He lifted his head and came back to her, nuzzling her temple. “To be honest, I’m starving.” He had made her t-shirt wet so that it clung to her nipple. It must feel cold. It would feel colder if he blew on it. He placed the palm of his hand over her breast again, smiling as she rose to meet it. But instead of curving his fingers to grip her, as she might have expected, he simply grazed the nipple back and forwards with the flat of his palm. He listened to her exhale with a huff and a hiss. “Like that, huh?” he spoke against her temple.
In answer she reached for the hem of his shirt, trying to draw it up but he easily blocked her hand. “Uh-uh, don’t touch.”
“Don’t touch?”
He shook his head. “Clothes stay on.”
“Is there something you want to hide, UHT Guy?” She shifted her thigh against him. “Nope, you’ll never hide that in a pair of jeans.”
He withheld a groan. To stay in control took every ounce of strict discipline he could muster.
“I want to touch you.”
“Lulah, let’s slow down. I’m trying to keep my shit together here…trying to be a good guy.”
“Stripping me of my clothes and ravishing me, that would make you the bad guy, right?”
“You know it would.”
“Do you think you and me are a bad idea?”
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, tucking his head in under her neck, right at a point where she s
melled so sweet, so uniquely Lulah. How on earth did he answer that question? Bad idea? Good idea? No idea. He lifted his head again, searching her face, trying for that connection they reached sometimes. The one that made him feel whole.
“Uh-oh, I’m sensing the detonation of a Vince-bomb.”
“What the…?”
“Say it, go on, say what’s on your mind right now.”
“You’re fantastic, do you know that?”
“That’s not what’s on your mind. You can’t lie to me, Vincent!”
“This nipple of yours is on my mind…a lot.” She started to wriggle if he backed off the touch, and if he pressed a bit harder she made this tiny noise, almost a little grunt. He slid his mouth along her jaw, to speak up against her cheek. “How’s that going for you?”
“It’s driving me nuts. If you keep doing that, I’m going to…”
“Explode?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And that’s a better Vince-bomb than the one you were thinking about, yeah?”
“Much better.”
“Good.” He claimed her mouth again, diving in, tasting her. He circled her tongue with his with the same intensity he worked her nipple. Her short hair was in reach behind her neck and he slid his hand and grabbed hold of it, keeping her head restrained as he pulled away from the kiss. Now she started to pass back some control.
Her hand found the hem of her own t-shirt this time, and he pinned her arm when he noticed her trying to pull the shirt off.
“Vince, I need more.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Clothes stay on.” Her eyes widened to baby-animal size, imploring. She tried to lift her head and he tightened his grip in her hair. Once she’d tested the hold she relaxed and everything changed, slower, deeper, with a more patient attitude.
“Your nipple’s like a bullet tip. Tell me how it feels?”
“Freakin’ intense.”
