by Liz Crowe
What had she done? Why had she behaved like that? Ross was a kind, lovely man and he wanted to help her, to hold her and protect her and she’d turned into a screaming banshee, ordering him out of her house.
A surge of longing for him filled her soul, choking her throat, making her want to scream, to cry, to shove her fist through the wall all at once. The Monster had ruined her for men. But one man wanted to pull her out of that mire, to bring her back to the land of the living, breathing, sexually healthy women. And she’d shoved him away.
Without thinking, she stuck her finger straight into the cake, pressing against the soft genoise—the chocolate sponge cake layers. She pulled her finger out, observed it a few seconds, then stuck it into her mouth.
“Shit,” she spat out, in English, which surprised her. Since she thought in German and had to translate every time she spoke, having Ross around to converse with in her native tongue had gone a long way toward easing her into a level of comfort with him. That was probably why she’d opened herself up. But no matter why, she knew she had to fix it. It was up to her to go to him, now.
“Don’t do it,” her nagging Oma-sounding subconscious insisted. “Don’t trust any man, ever again, remember?”
“Fuck that,” Elle declared, covering the cake so it wouldn’t go stale, then sticking her feet into flip-flops and grabbing an umbrella. “Wait, Elisa. You don’t even know where…” She snapped her fingers and grabbed her phone. Ross had obviously turned off the pleasant dinner music on his way out her door. As she was typing out a text to Evelyn, she gave up and hit call.
“Hello, Elle? You all right?” Evelyn’s voice hit her brain, bringing on a rush of reality. She dropped onto the futon, boneless with anxiety, hand over her lips.
“Evelyn…I…”
“What is it? Do you need me to…?”
“I need to know where Ross is living, or staying, or whatever he is doing.”
“Oh.” The woman’s voice died off in an odd way. Elle bit her lower lip, recalling that she’d declined to answer Ross when he’d asked her she was jealous of Evelyn. “Hang on, let me ask Austin.”
After a few minutes spent second-guessing this whole thing, Elle heard Evelyn’s voice again, sounding back to normal. “He’s at the Residence Inn over on Sumner. I’ll text you the address if you want.”
“Yes, please.” The pause extended past a polite period. “Evelyn…we…”
“I can’t think of a better suited couple, Elle. I mean, I guess you know about…us. About me, and Ross…and Austin.”
“Well, I know some of it. I know Rose is Ross’ biological child.”
“Oh.” Another long, awkward pause. Elle waited, knowing they would have to get this figured out sooner or later. Because she had no intention of leaving Fitzgerald, and every intention of making Ross Hoffman something more than just her fellow brewer.
“It’s all right, Evelyn,” Elle said. “You have a history. We all have one of those, remember? Besides, Ross is—”
“Ross is a great guy. An amazing man, really. You’re… You should go for it. You’re perfect for him. And he will be the sort of man who’ll protect you, forever.”
“I know. I’m not sure we’re… Well, let’s say we’re working some things out.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Yes, I can just imagine. Listen, Elle…I want you to know that I consider you more than an employee. I mean, obviously, since you saved my life and all. You know what I mean.”
Elle smiled to herself, getting that warm all over feeling she’d gotten earlier—sans the girlie tingles this time.
Friends. She had actual friends. She hadn’t had those since…well, since ever.
She was the only daughter, the youngest child, of a reclusive set of parents who divorced, more or less leaving her to be raised by her elderly grandmother as her brothers had already gone away to University. She’d always been small, pale and weak until she figured out that she’d better get strong to protect herself. Her Oma had been rich and had loved her, in her way. She’d even paid for the French cooking school.
When the woman had died the month after The Monster had dragged her to Chicago, he’d not allowed her to return to Germany for the funeral. And of course, He’d kept her completely isolated from anyone she might consider a friend.
“Elle?”
“What? Oh, sorry, Evelyn, I was drifting.”
“Anyway, listen, once you and Ross…uh…figure yourselves out, please know that Austin and I support you completely. Since Ross lost his job out west, we were considering…well, hoping really, that he’d stay with us. Which has to be good for you…I mean, right?”
“Right.” A thrill of possibility shot up her spine again. “So…I’m going to go now. To find him. I owe him an apology.”
“Have fun. See you on Monday.” She ended the call before Elle could respond.
After sitting and staring out at the ongoing deluge, relishing the power of the lightning and thunder, Elle packed up all the leftovers, including the cake that now sported a finger-sized hole, grabbed her keys and ran down the metal steps to her car. She sent up the usual prayer of crappy car owners everywhere that the thing would actually start. When it did, she gave a little yip of nervous pleasure, checked the directions on her phone to Ross’ hotel, and pointed herself that way.
She knew she was fully capable of chickening out, so she forced herself up and out into the pouring rain, cursing her lusty forgetfulness over the umbrella still in the closet of her flat. But the thunder had mostly subsided and the rain, while steady, wasn’t pelting. It actually felt good when she tilted her burning hot face up and accepted its caress on her cheeks, lips and forehead.
She’d parked in front of the building where Ross, apparently, had a set of rooms at the top of a single flight of wooden steps. She stared up them, contemplating how drastically she wanted her life to change, and the fact that if she walked up those steps, it most definitely would.
She went up fast, not giving herself a chance to turn and run away. But when she raised her fist to knock, she hesitated. The voice was screaming at her now, blocking out the sound of the rain. She put the bags down and slammed her hands over her ears, crouching for a few seconds, willing it silent. Finally, her mind cleared, and she stood. Taking a deep breath, she raised her fist and banged hard on the door. “Hoffman! Open up!”
By the time he finally did open the door, she was soaked all the way to the skin but she felt energized—reborn. Slick and wet and eager in ways that confused her. Even the line of stubborn between Ross’ eyes didn’t deter her. She smiled, held out her arms and yelled, “Can I come in? It’s a tad damp out here.”
He stood inside the door, arms crossed over his bare chest. She stared at his pecs, at the thick black hop vine tattoo that matched hers, at his visible ab muscles.
“Eyes up here, please, ma’am,” he said. “I’m not a piece of meat, you know.”
She held up the bags of food. “Do you have a microwave?”
He nodded, but didn’t move, continuing to block her way in. She dropped her arms, letting the rain pelt her, sensing his gaze taking her in from her dripping hair to her wet shoes. “You are a crazy bitch,” he said, conversationally, as if she weren’t standing right there, getting pelted in the rain while he remained dry less than a foot from her. “I’m not positive I want any part of you.”
She blinked, then forced herself forward and into his arms, dropping the bags as she wrapped herself around him. “That’s okay. I want us enough to make up for your lack of enthusiasm.”
He yelped. “Shit, you’re—”
“Yes, wet to the skin. I know. We seem to be like this a lot, don’t we? Now, shut up and kiss me before I—oh.”
He did just that, transporting her to what she’d come to think of as her only happy place—in his arms, with his mouth on hers, his tongue breeching her lips, forcing her to give in to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him drag her inside. He picked her up, soaking clothes
and all, continuing to kiss her all the way to the bedroom at the back of the mini-apartment.
He was gentle and tender as he undressed her, kissing every inch of skin he revealed, teasing her at the back of her neck and along her bare shoulders with his lips and teeth. He turned her this way and that, taking her all in, running his long fingers down her torso, cupping her breasts, licking each of her nipples, giving extra care to the still deformed one all the while muttering to himself in German.
He seemed especially fascinated with her piercings. He kissed her nose, her eyebrow, sucked the tiny ball in her lip into his mouth for a few seconds, rolled his tongue against the metal she’d placed there.
The line of balls in her ear cartilage got special attention. Each one of them touched with his fingertip, and his tongue.
Elle stood, eyes closed, letting him do what he wanted and loving it, loving him, if she were honest with herself. He ran his hands down her hips, around to her ass, across the evil puckered skin where she’d been burned. He was on knees now, his lips pressed to her stomach, then lower as his hands slid down the outside of both legs. His touch tickled, taunted, made her breathe fast as she tried to relax.
With shaking hands, she untied the leather string holding his hair back and slid her fingers into its silky depths, grazing his scalp with her short fingernails. He looked up at her. His eyes were bright with emotion. “You all right?” he whispered. “This is okay?”
“It’s very much okay. Please…more?”
He nodded and stood. He’d answered the door wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, as if he were going to exercise. She’d attempted to ignore the sheer magnificence of his body, but its size was enough to take her breath away. He was at least six foot four and obviously spent plenty of time at the gym. The light covering of blond hair across his upper chest was matched by a darker line of it below his navel. She touched his ribs, inside the tiny heart with the word Rose. His skin pebbled at her touch. She trailed her finger up to the hard, bronze disc of his left nipple, then higher, sliding her palm against his bearded cheek.
He took her wrist, kissed it, then planted tiny kisses on each of the inked stars on in the inside of her arm. “Oh,” she gasped as he pulled her close with his other hand, keeping his lips on her skin. “Ross,” she sighed as she molded herself against him, sensing the massive press of his erection against her stomach. She wanted him so badly it was a physical ache, centered between her legs. But it was more than sexual, somehow. She’d had plenty of orgasms in her early days with The Monster. This, however, was something else entirely.
“What are these?” he whispered as he kissed the last star, the one on the inside of her upper bicep. “Tell me what they mean?”
She reached down and slid her hand into his shorts, smiling when he hissed an exhale at her touch. “There is one star for every year I’ve been free of Him.” The tip of his cock was wet and as she slid her hand down, then back up, he groaned and thrust his hips against her.
“Oh,” he said, pulling her hand off him. “I see. So, let me suggest one for this year.” He eased her down onto the bed, spreading her dreadlocks out in a fan around her head.
“Okay,” she said, unhappy to no longer be touching him, but figuring there’d be time enough for that later. “Suggestions are welcome.”
“I think,” he said with a smile as his large, warm hand slid up her legs to her hips, her waist and finally to her breasts. She gasped and arched her back as he teased her nipples with his thumbs. She had her arms up over her head, eager for more, aggravated and hornier than she’d ever been.
His lips found the spot where’d she’d planned the eleventh star, almost into her armpit. He pressed his nose there, then his tongue, making her groan with pleasure and wrap her arms around his hips, eager for friction, for a release. “I picture a heart here.” He kissed that spot again, leaving her gasping and squirming. “I heart with a big…” He kissed her neck. “Fat…” He slanted his lips over hers, staying somewhat detached from her, propped up on his strong arms, probing and teasing her mouth again. “R,” he said after he broke away.
“A…what?” She was clutching at him, feeling like a stupid virgin, wanting something she didn’t understand but something was urging her to do things that felt natural, not forced.
“An R. For Ross. Because these…” He trailed his fingertip up the line of stars. “These end now. No more gauging your life in terms of how many years you’ve been free of him.”
His blue eyes were dark with lust as he stared at her. She let go of him and lay back, pondering this. “All right,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “If you say so.”
“No, God damn it.” He rolled onto his back, one arm draped over his eyes. “I’m not that guy, Elisa. I’m not the guy who tells you what to do.”
She propped herself up on her side, draping her leg over his thigh and pulling his arm off his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” But she had. It was pure reflex, of course. A sort of sick Pavlovian training she’d probably never be free of. When he turned his head to look at her, the anguish on his fact made her want to weep. “Maybe this is more than you want to get into, after all.”
Resigned, she slid to the end of the bed. But he pulled her back, tugged her until she was on top of him, straddling his hips. That incredible cock was rock hard, now nestled against her pussy. But he didn’t move. His hands rested on her thighs. “Do you mind?” she asked, as she did her own exploring, letting her fingers do the walking from his shoulders, down his arms, then across his chest. She flicked his nipples, smiling when his dick jerked beneath her. She lifted her hips so she could get at his shorts and slid them all the way down, while he lay there, quiet but for his rapid breathing.
“Ross,” she whispered in his ear as she used her lips on his skin, tasting every inch of him, including the salty tip of his penis. As she attempted to slide her mouth down his shaft, he grunted, and eased her up. “What?” She swiped at her lips, more eager than ever to have him inside her. “You don’t enjoy that?”
“Oh, I enjoy it all right. Too much so. I’m not skipping any steps tonight, Elisa. Now, lie back. It’s my turn to taste you. And I can’t wait to see what kind of jewel you put there for me to find.”
Giggling, she scooched up until her head was on the pile of fluffy pillows while he watched. When she got her first glimpse of his cock, she couldn’t help but gasp. “That is…one impressive piece of equipment, Herr Hoffman.” She put her hands behind her head and bent one leg, loving it when he focused his gaze on her pussy and licked his lips. “Women must line up for miles for that thing.”
He touched himself, his hand moving up and down its impressive length as he smiled. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me. But the line stops here…even if you don’t get to have it quite yet, Fraulein Nagel.”
She pouted, then yelped in pleased surprise when he dropped over her, kissing her hard, shoving his tongue into her mouth as one hand roamed down to her breasts, then lower, cupping her entire pussy in his hot palm. “I can smell how much you want me, Elisa,” he whispered, taking the ball in her lip into his mouth, then kissing his way down her neck and shoulder, pausing to suck each nipple gently, before placing a line of fluttery kisses down her belly. “I want to taste it so very badly.” His voice was hoarse. She felt as if she could taste his lust, his need for her, as he draped her legs over his shoulders and cupped her ass in his hands. “Ach, my love,” he sighed as he touched his tongue to her clit, teasing and nearly making her come before backing off and licking her lower lips slowly.
She felt his mouth on the curved bar that went through her hood. The pressure sensation that provided her clit as the tiny jewel pressed against it was, indeed, mind blowing.
“Oh…oh…God, yes,” she sighed as she buried her hands in his hair and tilted her hips up, giving herself up completely to him. “Ross…I need…I must…”
He latched onto her clit again, sucking it hard as he slid fingers insi
de, stretching her, which hurt, since she’d gone a long time without a man inside her. She made low cooing noises and thrust her hips upward as the lowlying tingling that had been creeping up her spine hit brain with the force of a hammer blow.
She cried out, not even aware of what she was saying as she let go of his hair and grabbed the pillows behind her, while the blessed release of a massive orgasm transported her. He kept stroking inside her, but had let go of her clit, somehow knowing it would be sensitized by that point.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh,” she kept saying as her back arched. “My God in heaven,” she groaned when her eyes opened again.
“That was lovely,” he said, looking up from between her legs. “You are delicious.”
She sighed and stretched, relishing this amazing freedom from fear. “I want you inside me, Hoffman,” she managed. “I need it.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, but he backed away from her.
“Well, then where in the hell are you going?” She rolled to her belly, feeling sated, and revved up beyond belief. “Hoffman, come back here and bring that giant dick with you.”
“It goes where I go, my love.” But he remained on the other side of the room, staring out of the window.
She got up and went to him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his strong, sweaty back. She touched her tongue to his skin, tasting salt, which made her want to taste more. Dying to get her hands on it again, she slid them down his torso, wrapped one hand around his thickness and cupped his heavy balls with the other. He grunted, and his hips started moving as she stroked him. Just when she thought he would blow, he pulled away, turned and stared down at her.
“I can’t do this, Elisa,” he said around clenched teeth.
“I don’t understand,” she said, pressing against his warm skin. He ran his hands down her back, cupped her ass, then let go with a loud curse.
“I…can’t love you. And I do. I mean… I will. You know?” He raked his fingers through his hair.
