“Day thirty?” I asked, my tone somewhat apologetic.
“Day thirty,” she said mockingly. She placed her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. “Do we decide now, or do we have to make it through the entire day? Please tell me you’re not going to make me wait until midnight.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked, knowing the answer would be no.
“No,” she snapped.
She was eager. I liked that about her. Regardless of her hope to discuss matters in the wee hours of the morning, I knew starting a conversation – and having it be meaningful – without a cup of coffee preceding it would be impossible.
I turned toward the kitchen. “I need a cup of coffee before I start much of anything.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Sure. Yeah, let’s have coffee.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get ‘em started.”
“But not in the dark.” She turned the lights on. “And, put the gun up, please. It makes me nervous.”
I walked into the kitchen and placed the gun in the cupboard. After brewing two coffee pods, I carried the cups of coffee to the island and placed them side by side.
“I don’t want to sit there,” she said with a wag of her index finger. “I want to sit across from you. I want to see you when I talk to you.”
I carried the coffee to the dining area and sat down. “How about here?”
She looked the table over as if it were the first time she’d ever seen it, and then took a seat across from me. After taking a sip of her coffee, she winced and then looked at me. “Where do we stand?”
“It’s something we need to discuss,” I said.
She glanced at her cup of coffee. “Can we do that now?”
“Sure.”
A few seconds of silence followed, primarily because I wasn’t prepared to discuss anything quite yet. I was still recovering from two and a half hours sleep. Apparently, the lull in conversation was more than Taryn was willing to accept.
“I guess I’ll start,” she said in a snide tone. “In the last thirty days, I’ve learned a lot. For the first time in my adult life, I’m comfortable being me. While being in this relationship with you, I feel like I can just do me, let you do you, and together we make a pretty damned good team. I think having this end would be a huge mistake on your part, I really do. I’ve got a lot to offer, and if you’re too shallow – or too stubborn – to see it, maybe you’re not as good at seeing into people’s souls as you think you are.”
I leaned away from the table and looked her over. She had gone through changes during our relationship, and I’d noticed each one of them. They weren’t abrupt, nor were they unnatural. They were an accommodating transformation that took place over the course of our thirty days together.
With my eyes fixed on her, I sipped my coffee. Trying my best to appear in deep thought, I continued until she began to fidget in her seat.
I lowered my cup to the table. “I’ll need to get a pad of paper and a calculator so I can tally up the points and see if you made it or not,” I said dryly.
She leaped from her chair and shot me a fiery glare. “Are you fucking serious? A fucking calculator?”
She reacted exactly as I’d hoped. One thing I admired about her was her spunk and her attitude, both of which seemed to diminish slightly in the last thirty days. I’d hoped they were simply suppressed. It was now obvious that was the case.
“I was kidding,” I said.
“Excuse me?” she snapped.
I grinned. “I was kidding.”
She glared. “About what?”
“The calculator.” I raised my eyebrows in hope of coercing her to forgive me. “And the notepad.”
“Are we going to continue this or not?” she asked in a quaking voice. “I haven’t slept yet. If we’re not, I need to go home and cry myself to sleep.”
I cleared my throat and then stood. “Four years. That’s how long I’ve been single. Until I met you, I assumed I’d simply live the remainder of my life a single man.”
“You don’t…” She swallowed heavily. “You don’t think that’ll happen now?”
I shook my head. “I watched you come and go from that bar for six months before I approached you. Six long months, I might add. You fascinated me, but there was a slight problem--”
“What…” Her mouth began to twist into an ever so simple grin. “What was it?”
“I’ve been dropped into some of the fiercest combat zones to ever exist. I’ve been shot at and missed, and shot at and hit. I’ve been stabbed, tortured, and beaten half to death. But. I’ve never feared anything as much as I feared approaching you.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the most remarkable woman I had ever seen. Seeing you laugh? One of the best things to ever happen to me. Watching you walk made me imagine what it would be like to have you at my side. I’d go there and wonder if I’d see you again. Each time, I thought to myself, if I see her tonight, I’ll say something. But, I didn’t. I watched you, fascinated by what I saw, but I feared what might happen if I approached you. Failure is not an option is the Navy SEAL motto, and I didn’t want to fail. Then, I overheard you talking about being single. So, I decided I’d take the chance. That was the night we met.”
“I’m guessing you want to continue?” she asked.
“Only if being in a relationship with me is what you truly want.”
“It is, but I uhhm. I have a few questions first.”
“Okay.”
I was eager to hear what they were, and hoped I could accomplish whatever it was that she may want of me. The thought of continuing life without her made me feel ill, and it had nothing to do with failing.
I feared I was falling in love with her.
“Have you ever hit a woman?” she asked.
“No.”
“Will you?”
“You have my solemn promise. I will not.”
“If you’re ever too drunk to drive, you have to tell me. And, you have to promise not to drive.”
“I don’t drink.”
She let out a sigh. “If you’re ever too drunk to drive--”
I gave a sharp nod. “I promise. I’ll tell you.”
“Every night before we go to bed, we make amends for whatever differences we had throughout the day.”
“I like that.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
She twisted her mouth to the side and looked away.
It appeared she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and I couldn’t have been happier. Until we agreed, however, I stood at the edge of the table and refrained from expressing my excitement.
I simply stood there and admired her natural beauty.
She met my gaze. “Are you the one who rescued those girls? The nine teenagers?”
It seemed like an odd question. “I suppose so.”
“You suppose so?”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. After a moment, she looked up. “Acting alone, and with little concern for his own safety, the detective entered the residence. Was he talking about you?”
“He was.”
She crossed her arms. “If we continue, just what is it? Are we dating? Exclusive? Boyfriend-girlfriend--”
“If we continue, I’m committed to you,” I explained. “In my eyes, it’s no different than the commitment of marriage. I’m devoted to you, and I hope you’re able to make the same commitment to me. Proceeding beyond this mark, especially introducing sex in the relationship, is something I’ve always viewed as sacred. If I share that with you, I’d like to believe you’re committed to me, and to this relationship. We’re in this through the thick and the thin.”
Her eyes fell to my waist. Slowly, they rose along my torso until she met my gaze. “Take off the shorts, March.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m in. It’s a go. Let’s do this,” she said with a laugh. “What do
we need to do? Shake hands?”
“We need to have a talk first,” I said.
“About?”
The only thing that was left untouched was sex. I guess we saved the best for last.
“The severity of sex,” I said.
Her eyes shot wide. And then, they narrowed to slits.
Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Nine
Taryn
With his fingers still inside me fully, he paused. “Sex isn’t simply an act that two people take part in,” he explained. “At least it shouldn’t be. If properly executed, sex has the severity of an earthquake.”
In anticipation of what was sure to come, I could feel my heart beating between my legs. He was mind-fucking me again. I needed to pay attention. I swallowed heavily, and then parted my dry lips.
“That’s uhhm. That’s an interesting concept.”
“It’s not a concept,” he said. “It’s fact. A person’s life becomes marked by severity. The severity of sex will certainly mark yours. Only sex can create life. That alone paints a clear picture of the severity of the act. If sex is executed without permission, the punishment for the crime can be death.”
“Taryn.” He withdrew his fingers. “Do I have your permission?”
There was only one response to give.
So, I gave it.
“Yes.”
“Open your eyes,” he said.
I did.
I looked around the dimly lit room until my eyes adjusted.
“The severity of an earthquake is determined by two things,” he said. “Magnitude and intensity. Magnitude measures the energy released at the source. Intensity measures the strength of shaking produced. The severity of sex is the same. The energy released should come from your source. From deep within your soul. The intensity is directly correlated to the magnitude of the energy expelled.”
He seemed so sure of himself. It sounded awesome. Hell, at that point, a quickie would probably have left me breathless. I’d waited thirty days, and seeing him in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts was making me ache.
“The severity of sex,” I said under my breath.
He rolled to his side and looked me in the eyes. “If we do this, we’re committing to each other that we’re prepared to not only bring life into this earth, but that we’re willing to spend our lives together, regardless of the difficulties we face. The only thing I won’t accept is infidelity.”
“Neither will I.”
“Are you prepared to do this?”
I grinned. “Were you hoping to scare me?”
His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Just making sure you understood what you were agreeing to.”
“Is this the part where we shake hands?”
He sat up and extended his hand. “I guess so.”
I shook it. “You’ve got a deal, mister.”
With a tug of his arm, he pulled me into him. The fingers of his free hand raked through my hair, and came to a rest against the base of my skull. He gripped my neck firmly, using it to force my mouth hard against his.
Our tongues danced together delicately, while our mouths merged in a more aggressive manner. I writhed about as pleasure and nervous anxiousness drove the involuntary movement of my muscles. Eventually, our tongues caught up with the tempo.
My mind went void of any ability to reason, and my knees went weak.
It was a kiss all kisses should be modeled after.
I groped along his body, not knowing where to focus my attention. I found the tight muscles of his chest tempting, but that temptation didn’t prevent me from exploring every inch of him that I could reach.
My heart faltered as my fingers fumbled over the ridges of his abdomen – each one of them hard, like a stone. The waistband of his boxer briefs caused me to pause, and then I realized we no longer had restrictions.
I slid my hand into his shorts and gripped him firmly in my hand.
Oh God.
He moaned in pleasure as I stroked his stiff cock from its tip to the base. Knowing that I’d brought him to that state of arousal with nothing more than a kiss was extremely gratifying.
Yet.
I needed more. I yearned to feel my skin against his. To have every inch of him inside of me. To experience the scent of our sex filling my nostrils while I gazed into his mysterious eyes. I wanted to hear our bodies slapping against one another with such force that it reverberated throughout the home endlessly.
There would be plenty of time in our future to make love.
The time had come to fuck.
With reluctance, I broke our embrace.
Our eyes met. He reached for his boxer briefs, navigated them over his rigid shaft, and then pushed them along his thighs. As he fumbled to get them off his feet, I realized I was still dressed.
It was the moment I’d been waiting for, and I was daydreaming instead of doing. Breathless, I hopped off the edge of the bed and reached for the hem of my dress. “I’ve waited…thirty days, I’ll probably…explode.”
“Thirty days?” He coughed out a laugh. “Four years for me.”
I tossed my dress onto the floor, and then rid myself of my bra and panties. While I considered asking him where he wanted me, he pulled me onto the bed by my wrist.
Flat on my back, and with eyes wide open, I gazed up at him as he positioned himself over me.
He guided himself between my legs while he met my gaze.
The tip penetrated me, and all but brought me to tears. Not from the size or the force, but from the raw emotion that rushed through me. I never wanted anyone as completely as I wanted March Watson. Having him was beyond what my inexperienced heart could manage to comprehend.
He slipped his arms beneath me and gripped my shoulders in his hands. I wedged my lower lip between my teeth and prepared myself for the inevitable. Cautiously, he pushed himself into me, one slow inch at a time.
I held my breath, and it appeared he did the same.
I knew very little at that moment, but one thing that became immediately clear was that we fit one another. Having his girth fill me was breathtaking, but manageable. He stretched me to what I was sure was my limit, however, it wasn’t overly painful. He was gentle, but not so cautious that it left me wanting something more.
Having him inside of me was the solution to the Big O equation.
Methodically, he continued. Although I believed I’d accepted his length fully, each stroke proved otherwise. I pressed my palms against my inner thighs and spread my legs as wide as I was able. Every thrust of his hips provided a little more of his thick shaft.
Eventually, I felt his base against my clit.
Dear God.
“Is that all of it?” I gasped.
He grinned. “That’s it.”
“Holy crap.”
“Holy crap is right. Your little pussy is heaven.”
“You like it?”
“Love it.” His eyebrows raised. “Are you okay?”
A short breath shot from my lungs. “I’m good.”
With our eyes locked, he began to slide in and out of my willing warmth. Each stroke brought with it a wave of emotion, sending a tingling sensation across every inch of my skin. Be it his size, his positioning, or simply who he was, I had no idea – but having him inside of me was different.
So much so that I stared back at him, bewildered.
He released my shoulders and cupped my boobs in his hands. He squeezed them firmly, paying special attention to my hardening nipples. His thumbs tickled each one masterfully, leaving me no alternative but to watch.
I alternated glances between his hands, face, and watching his entire length disappear inside of me. Seeing his glistening shaft as he withdrew his hips was beyond satisfying, and I became fixed on it for an immeasurable amount of time.
I tore my eyes away from his thick cock and met his gaze. “I like watching you fuck me.”
“I’m not fucking you, yet.”
“What…what are you…doing?”
�
��This?” He chuckled. “This is foreplay.”
“Oh.” I felt like I could explode at any minute. If what he was doing was the predecessor to sex, I was in trouble.
Deep trouble.
“Let me know when you think you’re ready,” he said.
I though he was fucking me. In fact, I was sure of it. After finding out he wasn’t, I wanted to know just what he was capable of. Being fucked senseless was on my list of things to do with him, and he’d almost accomplished it with what he described as foreplay.
I’d likely draw my last breath if I agreed to let him have his way with me. At minimum, he’d screw me into a coma, leaving me incapable of anything but staring at the stark white walls of his home for all of eternity.
I had always been one to take risks, though.
“You don’t have the guts to fuck me,” I said snidely.
His eyes shot wide. “Come again?”
I clenched my jaw. “You heard me,” I said through my teeth.
“Say it again. I want to make sure--”
“You. Don’t. Have. The. Guts. To. Fuck. Me.”
His face went flush and his eyes thinned to slits. Then, as he held my gaze, he withdrew himself from me slowly.
He stepped off the edge of the bed and gestured toward me with his hand. “Get up.”
I wondered exactly what I’d done, and if there was a means of recovering from it. He’d said we were in this through the thick and the thin, and I suspected I should remind him of that. While considering rolling off the edge of the bed and attempting to reason with him, he hoisted me to my feet.
He stomped across the bedroom floor with me in tow. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t laughing, either. I wanted to protest whatever he was doing, but before I had a chance to assemble my objection, he lowered me to my feet just inside the wall of glass.
He flipped the switch, and parted the mechanical blinds that provided a barrier between us and a view of the great outdoors. As he leaned over and slipped his hands up the outside of my thighs, I voiced my dissent.
“March, I was just--”
His fingers came to rest just beneath my butt cheeks. “Spread your legs,” he said through his teeth.
I did just as he asked.
Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set Page 136
