Rory stood perfectly still, head bowed and eyes staring blankly at nothing.
“How did you get this scar, Rory?”
His jaw clenched and his breathing grew heavier. He pressed his eyes shut again.
“I came home late that night. They were already passed out on the couch,” he said, forming each word precisely. “I should have just gone to bed. I should have just kept my head down… but I couldn’t ignore the bruises he had given my mother.”
A lump swelled in the back of my throat. I eased closer to Rory, pressing myself against him as his shoulders started to sink.
“She had a black eye,” he said. “I don’t know why, but I snapped. I accused him of hitting her… and then he threw me against the wall and pressed his cigarette into my arm.”
“Your mother didn’t try to stop him?”
“She was just laughing her ass off the whole time,” Rory shook his head. “Meth is one hell of a drug, right?”
Rory opened his eyes and stared up at the sky. The sun had mostly disappeared, and the sky was fading slowly to purple.
I traced my fingers around the rose design again, feeling the soft crease of the cigarette burn.
“Too bad tattoos can only hide so much, right?” he said grimly, glancing down at the scar. “People can tell as soon as they look at me that I’m damaged goods.”
“No,” I shook my head, circling it with my finger. “You don’t need to hide anything, Rory. These scars don’t mean that you’re broken… they’re proof that you’re strong. They’re proof that you fought back.”
I held his arms between my two hands and leaned forward, pressing my lips over the raised scar.
Rory’s body didn’t tense this time. Instead, his shoulders started to ease apart and he released his white-knuckled grip on the balcony railing.
I didn’t pull back. My lips followed the trail of scars and tattoos that decorated Rory’s arm, kissing every place he’d been hurt before…
When I reached the sleeve of his black t-shirt, I felt his hands slip around my waist and guide me towards him.
Electric chills rattled through my body as I felt the firmness of his rock-hard chest press against mine. His heat spread through me like a wildfire, rushing straight between my legs. I felt myself throbbing for him; burning from head to toe with a desire I had never felt before.
I wanted him. I wanted all of him. Every cell in my body was consumed by an intense, burning need; a need that burned straight through any shyness or inhibition.
I could tell that he felt it, too. His breathing was strained and his eyes were devouring me… but still, he was holding back; still resisting.
Why?
“It’s hot out here,” he said finally. “We should cool down.”
“Oh… do you want to go back inside?”
“Not yet,” he shook his head. “Actually… I have a better idea.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN | RORY
I needed to ‘cool down,’ alright.
I needed a cold shower. I needed to soak in a bathtub filled with dry ice. I needed a harsh rinse from the firehose. I needed to pour a 10lb bag of ice down the front of my boxer-briefs.
I needed anything to defuse the bomb that was inching closer and closer to exploding inside my ripped black jeans.
What I really needed was Des… but that wasn’t an option. Not yet, anyways.
Des and I both had scars. I wore mine on my arms, buried underneath my tattoos. Des wore her scars on the inside, too deep for me to kiss away. But I knew they were there, and I knew that some of the biggest ones were left by me.
I had left a nasty gash when I disappeared, and I knew it would take time before that old wound healed entirely. I had to earn her trust again. I had to prove that I wasn’t going anywhere.
That’s why we had to take things slow. That’s why I had to use restraint. And that’s how I found myself leading Des up the apartment building’s dimly lit cinderblock stairwell.
“So… any chance you’re going to tell me where we’re going?” Des asked as we rounded the twelfth -- and final -- flight of stairs.
“Nope,” I winked over my shoulder. “But you’ll see for yourself in about thirty seconds.”
We climbed up the final steps and found ourselves in a narrow concrete hallway.
There was a door at the end of the hall, and affixed to the wall directly next to it was a control panel. The digital screen glowed bright yellow, creating an aura of light in the darkness.
I tapped a button on the panel and it chirped loudly, then prompted me to type in a six-digit clearance code.
“Rory, are we--” Des lowered her voice to a hiss “--breaking in?!”
“Technically we’re entering on official fire department business,” I told her as I typed in the clearance code. “The Connecticut state fire code stipulates that certain places must be accessible to fire personnel at all times. This six-digit code is like a digital key to the city…”
I tapped the ‘enter’ key and the panel chirped again, then we heard the sound of a deadbolt disengaging and the door popping open gently. I grabbed the handle and pulled it open.
“After you,” I said, ushering Des through the door. She hesitated, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Can we get in trouble for this?” she asked.
“Only if we get caught,” I winked.
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, and she sucked in her bottom lip to stop it from spreading to her cheeks. Then she ducked under my arm and slipped through the open door. I followed, ignoring the Louisville Slugger that was taking practice swings inside my jeans.
When I was trying to sell Charlie on the idea of moving to Hartford, this rooftop pool had been one of my biggest bargaining chips. It looked even better in real life than it had in the glossy brochure photos. The pool was a rectangle of turquoise water, casting a cool blue glow over the rest of the deck. Black pool chairs were arranged in neat rows on either side of the water, and glass bulb string lights were hung in a zig-zag pattern over the entire deck.
“Oh my God, Rory… this is incredible!” Des said, turning around slowly as she took it all in. “This makes my apartment’s pool look like a garbage dump.”
“You’d probably feel differently if you saw it during normal pool hours,” I quipped.
Des was biting her lip again as she turned back around to face me, and her eyes were glistening mischievously.
“So… are we gonna get in, or what?”
My eyebrows flung up in surprise.
“What?” she narrowed her eyes at me playfully. “Don’t tell me we came all the way up here just to get our feet wet?”
That’s exactly why we came up here, I thought.
“We don’t have any swimsuits,” I pointed out.
“Oh well,” she shrugged. She smiled innocently at me, and I felt my dick twitch eagerly in my jeans.
Fire. This is playing with fire.
Her hands crawled along her waist, wrapping around the hem of her white t-shirt and rolling it up slowly.
Fire, fire, fire…
She slipped the shirt over her shoulders and tossed it aside, and in the soft yellow glow from the sting lights I saw her breasts spilling out of a black lace bra.
Fuck…
I didn’t think I could get any harder than I already was, but when I saw those tits I felt all of the hot blood in my body pulse straight to the steel rod in my jeans.
I gulped, trying to stay in control… but she was making it damn near impossible. Her hands slid down her taut stomach towards the waistband of her denim shorts. She popped the button open easily and shoved down the zipper, then gave her hips a little wiggle until the denim slid down her thighs and puddled on the floor around her ankles.
FIRE.
She stood still just long enough for me to confirm that the black lace panties matched the black lace bra… then she took two giant strides and leapt towards the pool, crashing into
the turquoise water with a giant SPLASH.
Tiny droplets of shimmering water pelted the deck, and when her head emerged through a wave of blue she was buried under a curtain of soggy black hair, laughing hysterically.
She shoved the hair away from her face and glanced up at me.
“Are you coming?”
My cock was throbbing through the seams of my jet-black Levis, and I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of me stripping down to my briefs and jumping into the pool without her catching a glimpse of my unbridled beast.
“I’ll just put my feet in,” I resolved, waddling awkwardly towards the edge of the pool and bending down to sit on the edge. I rolled up the hems of my black denim pants and thrust my legs into the water.
It felt cool… but not cool enough to relieve the sweltering heat the was pounding through my veins.
Des swam up beside me and propped her elbows on the concrete edge of the pool, then she glanced up at me. Her skin was glistening wet, and the water droplets looked like tiny twinkling diamonds in the light.
Her burning hot eyes rolled down my chest towards my crotch, and they widened when she saw the bulge.
“I want you to come in,” she said. Her voice was low, husky… almost a purr.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You don’t need to protect me, Rory,” she said, flicking her gaze back up to me. “I can handle it… I can handle you.”
She pushed herself away from the wall and glided closer towards me, planting her hands on my knees and positioning her torso between my legs under the water. Then her hands crept over the tops of my thighs, slowly inching towards my cock.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Des…”
“You won’t,” she whispered. “You have to trust me. I want you, Rory. I want all of you…”
Her fingers wrapped around my shaft, stroking through the thick black denim. I sucked in a breath as my body reacted to her touch.
“Fuck, Des…”
Her hand slipped away and she slid back down into the water, gliding away from me.
Fuck me…
I grunted, pulling myself up from the edge of the pool. I peeled off my shirt and undid the front of my jeans. As soon as I undid the zipper, I felt an immediate sense of relief tingle through my suffocated shaft. I kicked off my jeans, then I jumped straight into the water.
I crashed through the turquoise waves and I let my body sink all the way to the bottom of the concrete pool. All the way down, I tried to convince myself that this was horrible idea… but reason and logic had gone out the window. All I knew was that I wanted her… and she wanted me too.
I kicked off the bottom of the pool and surged back to the top, popping through the surface and taking a deep gulp of breath. I opened my eyes and immediately found myself nose-to-nose with Des.
She was hovering directly in front of me, and before I could think twice I reached forwards and gripped onto her. As I tugged her towards me, her thighs eased apart and wrapped around my waist. I felt the scratch of lace rub against my chest as our bodies latched together.
Our lips found each other like a pair of magnets. This wasn’t a gentle kiss, like before… this time, it was messy.
This kiss was wet, desperate, and urgent. We were both gasping and panting as our lips slipped and slid together. I scooped my hand around her waist, cradling her ass and dragging her closer to me. Her hips bucked forward, thrusting against my throbbing rod.
That thrust was almost more than I could take, and I pulled back. Des immediately pouted.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpered.
“Oh, I’m not fucking stopping…” I promised her. Then I gripped her waist and pulled us both towards the edge of the pool. In one swift motion, I had lifted her out of the water and propped her ass on the concrete deck, so that she was sitting in the same spot I had occupied moments earlier.
She was dripping wet, and her bra and panties were soaked through and clinging to her skin. I could see the rosy-pink outlines of her nipples through the lace bra, and her panties were so damn soaked that they clung to the shape of her mound, forming a perfect outline of her anatomy.
I wanted to bury my face in those tits until they smothered me… but her pussy needed my attention more. I eased her knees apart and pressed my lips into her inner thigh, kissing my way towards her juicy wet center.
“Rory!” she gasped, stiffening as I got closer and closer. She reclined backwards, propping herself up on her elbows as her back arched up.
I sunk my teeth into her inner thigh and bit down gently, sucking in the sensitive flesh until her knees were shaking on either side of me.
By the time I reached the lace panties, I was desperate to taste her on my tongue. So desperate, that I ripped the flimsy fabric straight off of her. She gasped again, and I opened her legs further apart so that I could see all of her glistening, quivering sex.
Her plump lips were swollen and oozing with excitement. I spread her slit apart with my fingers and traced around her rim with my thumb. She was tight… and just imagining how her walls would feel around my cock sent a tremor through me.
I thrust my thumb into her hole and dug my tongue up her slit until I hit her hard clit. It was swollen and pink, like a tiny little raspberry, and when I flicked it with the tip of my tongue her entire body bucked towards me.
“Rory, I’m--I’m--” she stammered, rocking her head back and forth.
“Are you close?”
She nodded her head and whimpered softly, practically begging me to let her finish.
I had never seen this side of Des before. She had always been so shy, so reserved, so quiet… but now she was writhing on the concrete like a wild animal, and I was the one holding her by the reins.
Her hands reached up, gripping around her own tits and squeezing through the lace. She moaned softly and her eyes rolled back.
I buried my head between her soft thighs, and with one swift flick of my tongue her entire body crumbled. She convulsed as the orgasm roared through her body, and she made a sharp cry as her head tilted back and her mouth fell open.
When it was over, she looked like she was seeing stars. She rocked forward, gasping for breath, and I reached up to steady her.
“Holy shit,” she murmured.
“We should probably get back to the apartment,” I whispered, pressing my lips into her stomach.
“Get back?!” she gasped, glancing down at me. “Bu--but… we… you…” she glanced down at me through the water.
“We have plenty of time for that,” I said.
The truth was, I wanted nothing more than to ravage her; to thrust inside of her until we both exploded. But Des was special, and I wanted our first time together to be special, too.
Not here. Not like this...
CHAPTER TWENTY | DESIREE
“Newspeak is the name of a language that is spoken in the dystopian novel titled ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’ by George Orwell. The book is called ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’ because that is the year when it takes place. However, it was actually written by George Orwell in 1949. So it was a book about the future. In the future, George Orwell imagined that people would adapt a new language. The name of that language is Newspeak…’
I slammed my head against the coffee table, drumming my forehead repeatedly in an attempt to eviscerate the sheer terribleness of what I had just read from my memory.
In lieu of another pop quiz, I had tasked the students in my first period AP English class with writing a 500-word short essay explaining the significance of Newspeak in George Orwell’s ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four.’
I figured this would be an easy A for any student that had bothered to pick up the book or flip through the first few chapters. Unfortunately, it was starting to seem like I had overestimated my class once again.
If the first handful of essays were any indication, it seemed like my students hadn’t even bothered to skim Cliff Notes. I capped my
red grading pen with a heavy sigh and stood up from the table. If I was going to make it through the rest of these abysmal essays, I would need wine. Lots of wine.
Luckily I had picked up a fresh bottle at the grocery store, and when I popped open the fridge I was relieved to see that Kas hadn’t gotten her grubby little hands on it yet.
I hugged the bottle against my stomach and pulled open the utensil drawer to find a bottle opener.
I was still rummaging through the drawer when I heard the apartment door open.
My eyes shot up and I watched my roommate shuffle in. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of oversized black sunglasses, and her frame was obscured in a ginormous sweatshirt that fit her frail frame like a potato sack. She looked terrible… which wasn’t exactly surprising, considering the fact that she wasn’t usually conscious during daylight hours.
“Kas!” my eyebrows raised up in surprise. “It’s 5 p.m.… what are you doing out of the tomb at this hour?”
“I had to get my eyelash extensions redone,” she sighed, snapping a piece of bubble gum between her teeth. Then she noticed the bottle of wine and added, “Oooh, pinot greej! Yes please!”
I didn’t offer, but… ok.
I sighed as I placed the bottle on the kitchen counter, then popped open a cabinet and grabbed a pair of wine glasses.
“I’m actually, like, super glad you’re here,” Kas said, thunking her baby pink BCBG flip flops against the floor as she stomped into the kitchen. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Ok,” I said slowly. I kept my eyes on her as I reached for the wine bottle, then wedged the corkscrew through the foil until I stabbed cork. I couldn’t get a read on Kas’ face; between the dark sunglasses and the botox-frozen expression, she was completely devoid of emotion.
I twisted the corkscrew into the neck of the bottle, then I pried out the cork with a soft pop. I had barely finished pouring wine into the first glass before Kas reached across the counter, grabbed it by the stem, and yanked it towards her mouth.
With one giant glug, she polished off the entire glass. My eyes shot wide open, and I blinked at her in horror.
April Embers_A Second Chance Single Daddy Firefighter Romance Page 14
