by Mary Calmes
I turned around to look down at him. "Yeah."
"Move," he ordered gruffly, sliding around me so he could go first. "For crissakes, Jory."
He sounded more exasperated than mad. I didn't see the problem.
"How stupid are you?"
What was the correct response to that?
He went up in front of me, took my keys, and opened the door. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he asked when the door swung open to reveal a wall and stairs to the left.
"Why? What now?"
He stepped sideways to look at me. "You can't even see up these."
My studio apartment that I'd lived in for the past two years had been originally converted from an attic to a residence. To make a separate entrance, the owner had basically made a hole in the side of the wall leading up to the very top floor under the roof. There was, however, no room for a door to open in so it opened out like a giant cabinet. The first thing you saw, because it was all that could fit, was a coat rack.
There were eight stairs to the left that hugged the wall and emptied out into my small living room.
It was basically a small space where my TV and coffee table were against one wall and the kitchen sink was on the other. I could wash dishes under a small round window that looked out on the backyard, the stove had only one burner, and there was no shelf inside the oven. My tiny microwave sat on the only piece of counter space in the apartment and the one cupboard was above that. My kitchen table was a card table and the two chairs that went with it my friend Ilise had sponge-painted over the flat black with gold. It looked odd but I liked it. My queen-size mattress and box spring sat on the floor instead of in a bed frame, so I was constantly lining them back up when they moved. A bed frame was near the top of my list of things to buy. The down comforter had been my Christmas present to myself, and just looking at it made me want to change and get under it.
"Okay, I get it," Detective Kage breathed out. "You live on your own."
"Yeah," I said flippantly. "What was your first clue?"
And he launched into me about how I would never know if someone was coming up the inside stairs let alone those on the outside. I made the mistake of rolling my eyes and he grabbed ahold of my sweater and yanked me forward so we were face-to-face.
"This place is a joke, Jory. Anybody with a paperclip could get in here."
"I disagree."
"You disagree?" He raised his eyebrows. "Because you know everything about breaking and entering."
"Calm down," I told him. "Have some tea."
"I don't want any fuckin' tea, I want—"
"Why have you been following me around?"
"What?" he barked at me, but already I was getting hopeful again. He obviously liked me, didn't mind my company, and was purposely baiting me to stay and argue.
"You heard me."
"You're my goddamn witness, you fuckin' idiot."
I nodded. "Sit down and stop swearing."
"I don't wanna sit down! I don't want tea...." he trailed off.
I smiled at him because I knew I was right. He might not know what he wanted, but I did. "Sit. I'll make the tea."
"I don't want tea," he repeated for the third time before sitting.
I filled the kettle with water but left it on top of the microwave before I walked back to stand over him. He looked up slowly, and when I stepped between his legs he didn't say a word. I sank to my knees in front of him and my hands went to his belt buckle. I checked once to make sure I was right and I saw him swallow hard, take the trembling breath.
When I tugged him forward, he let me move him, sliding down so that his muscular thighs were on both sides of me.
When I pushed his shirt up, I leaned over and kissed the six-pack abs, my lips brushing over his navel. He shivered hard and I smiled, because if there had been a time to protest it was over now.
I unbuckled his belt, and when I unzipped his jeans I realized how hard he was. As soon as I pulled down his briefs, I reached into my pocket for the condom there. He shivered once when he heard me tear open the foil wrapper and I realized that he'd been waiting for this moment. He could have run if I didn't have protection, his last credible excuse for flight. No going back when he was safe under the cover of latex. He watched my hands on him, gentle but firm without a hint of hesitancy. When his eyes came up, locked on mine, I saw how clouded they were, how steeped in need. I smiled before I lowered my mouth over him and he slipped inside the wet heat of my mouth. I loved what I was doing, liked it with everyone, enjoyed it, the power it gave me, the way they looked when I did it. But it was different for once because of the man. It had to be perfect for him, perfect for Detective Kage, who—for whatever reason—trusted me with this, his first time with a man. So I gave myself over completely to his pleasure, drawing it all out for long minutes as his panting began. It felt good; I knew it did because I'd been told often enough that my mouth was amazing. As I stroked and caressed him I heard the sounds tear out of him.
Head back, eyes closed, his bottom lip quivering, I took a second to drink in the sight of him, lost in what I was doing to him. It was gratifying to know that I could make him feel like that. His breath came in gasps, his hips rocking forward, and after a few more seconds he groaned, his fingers tangled tight in my hair. I was there, unyielding, my rhythm unchanging until he swore, cried out, his back bowed as he arched up into me. I waited for his breathing to even out before I moved slowly away, careful not to spook him as I rose from my knees between his legs.
"Let me help you, all right?" I said gently, waiting for the slight nod.
He watched every move I made as I grabbed the box of Kleenex off the coffee table. He looked drugged with his heavy-lidded eyes and languid recline.
When all evidence was gone, I put my hands on my hips and waited.
"I'm not sick," he drawled out.
There were several ways to take that. I decided to clarify.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that condom was a waste of time."
Oh. "I always use one."
"Whaddya need not to, a note?"
Weird conversation. "Yeah."
He nodded, and then suddenly realized he was sitting there naked from the waist down. Standing quickly, he got his underwear and jeans back on, fiddling with his belt, fumbling around, making the buckle jingle.
I decided to take pity on him and allow him the clean getaway. "I'm having tea," I announced in the suffocating silence. "You better get home, Detective."
He just stood there, looking at me.
I had no idea what he wanted and it didn't seem like he did either. I turned to go to the stove.
He moved so fast, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me back up against him. His arm snaked around my neck so I couldn't move.
"Oh-kay," I breathed out, because this I could work with.
"I don't know what to... if you were a... I don't know what to do!" His voice was raw and hoarse.
"Whatever you want," I said softly as he pulled my head back, every inch of my skin hot, ready to be touched. "Just...
it's okay, whatever you do. You're not gonna hurt me."
His hand went under the collar of my shirt, sliding over my throat, my collarbone, down my chest. I couldn't breathe.
I felt him shiver before his other hand slid up my abdomen, first pulling the sweater free, he then slipped his hand underneath it to touch my skin.
"What do you want?"
But I couldn't speak.
He pulled the sweater roughly up over my head and then shoved me down on the bed. It was a rush to get me naked and he tugged and ripped until I was. I was forced facedown onto my mattress and pulled to the edge. I heard his buckle go and a second later he was against me.
"Tell me what to do," he said, his voice deep, barely there.
I drew his arm down, then curled his hand around me and let him feel the length of me sliding through his fingers, how hard I was, how silky the skin. "See how good you make me feel?"
/> He leaned over and I felt his mouth on my shoulder before he bit down. It hurt and made me gasp at the same time
"Oh, you like that," he said, leaning into me.
"I do," I said, showing him how to stroke me. "Now fuck me."
"But I... what if—"
"I'm clean and you were trying to tell me you are too, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"I never bareback, Detective—believe me, you're safe." He shouldn't have believed me but I was telling the truth. No one ever got near me without a condom. What I was offering him was a gift.
"I... Jesus, I don't—"
"We're both good, just do it."
"I don't wanna hurt—"
"You won't," I promised as I pointed at my nightstand.
"There's lube in there. Get it."
He did as he was told, and when he had the small bottle in his hand his eyes locked on mine. "Come here." I was gentle, moving slowly because he was watching so intently as my hands slid over his skin. When his eyes finally lifted to mine, they were heavy-lidded as he lengthened in my hand, his breath shaky. I turned and bent over the bed and I felt his hands sliding over my ass, opening me up before he eased inside. I brought his slick hand back to me and he stroked me at the same time for as long as he could.
"Jesus, you're so tight."
"I feel good."
"So good," he groaned, his hands moving to my hips, holding me there.
It didn't take long before he called my name, his hips snapping forward before he pinned me under him to the bed.
"Holy shit," he gasped, careful as he slid out of me, caring now that he could think again.
I rolled over on my back and was ready to take care of myself when he stopped me. I smiled slowly. "You gotta let me do this," I panted, my laughter forced. "I could die from...."
"I'll do it. I want to."
I shook my head. "No, I'll—"
But he was insistent to reciprocate, pulling my hands away, moving between my legs and taking me into his mouth. He had no idea what he was doing but it still felt like heaven, and the fact that he wanted to, coupled with his eyes locked on mine, checking to make sure it was good for me, took me right to the edge. I warned him to stop and he moved, watching me finish. When my eyes slowly drifted back open, I was surprised to find him staring at my face.
"What?"
"I made you feel good." It was a statement.
"Yes."
He nodded slowly.
"Are you okay?" I asked him gently, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. The way he was looking at me made my stomach hurt, so trusting and peaceful.
"Yes," he nodded as I got up off the bed.
I took longer in the bathroom than I needed, giving him time to escape, allowing for the clean getaway. I was surprised to find him unmoved, still on his back and staring at the ceiling, when I finally emerged. I was halfway to the loveseat when he spoke and stopped me.
"Come back to bed."
I went to the opposite side, close to the wall, and lay facedown. I was trying to figure out what to do next when I felt his fingers slide slowly down my spine.
"I never did that before."
And I was going to tease him, but the moment was precious even if there was only ever this one. "I know."
"How did you know? Was it bad?"
"No."
"I wanted it to be."
"But it wasn't." I made sure.
"No."
Long silence.
"I didn't... I didn't know it would be like that."
"Like what?"
He ignored my question. "We were good, right?" Like he needed his own assurance.
"Yes," I agreed.
He cleared his throat before he pressed his hand against the small of my back. "Do you... do guys... can you make it so you can be on your back?"
"Yes," I exhaled slowly. "I just thought maybe you wanted it so you couldn't see my face."
"No, if we could, when you can, I... when you're ready, I'd like to see."
"Get up."
He did what I told him without question and he had the bottle of lube before I could say a word. I had him move to the edge of the bed and then lift my legs and rest them on his shoulders. He ran his hands from my thighs up my calves to my ankles; first gently, then harder, his fingers clenched, the knuckles white. He was going to leave bruises on my skin.
"I'm sorry I bit you."
"I'm not," I said, directing him, giving him permission to do what he wanted. He caught his breath, his eyes locked on mine as he pushed himself inside me,
The pain was white-hot for the instant before it wasn't. It felt so good I cried out.
"I hurt you," he whispered, trying to move away.
"No... and yes," I breathed out, keeping him still, tightening my muscles. "But that's how it always is."
"You should see your eyes."
I smiled up at him, telling him how he should move, slowly then faster, pushing in deeply so I could feel him. His hands and mouth on my body were rough and hard, and when I let the moan rise up out of me he lifted me off the bed and sat. I put my knees on either side of his thighs and lowered myself onto him.
"Jory," my name sounded like a prayer.
Like the easy rise and fall of a wave, I was fluid in his arms, his fingers tracing down my spine, his hands moving over my hips, my ass, and his mouth sucking and licking down my chest. The way he was looking up at me, like I was a revelation, a gift. But there were crazy boundaries that sometimes couldn't be crossed. Like fuck but don't kiss.
"Open your eyes."
I didn't remember closing them. Gazing into the silvery blue of his eyes, I realized he wasn't rushing me or trying to get away. He wanted everything slow.
"Jory... kiss me," he breathed out, hands sliding up my throat, cupping my face in his hands, touching my hair. When my mouth covered his, he parted his lips for me and I kissed him deeply, thoroughly, exploring his mouth, sliding my tongue over every inch of his, tasting him, devouring him. I heard the catch of breath as I pulled back.
"Detective," I began. "I—"
"Sam," he corrected me.
"Sam," I said slowly, liking the sound of his name on my lips.
"You're brand-new," he said to me, and I understood what he meant. To him it was a whole new world of discovery, my body just waiting for him. "Come here."
The man knew how to kiss; I felt his craving and heat. He laid claim to me; I was bruised, my lips mauled and chewed.
Easily the most desired and needed I had ever been. I arched my back and let my head fall back in his hands. He had me; I wouldn't fall, his arm around my waist anchoring me down.
* * * *
I woke up because I couldn't move. When I lifted my head I realized the reason. Sam had one heavy, granite thigh draped over my legs and his arm around my waist. I waited for the panic to come. And waited. And waited. When it didn't come after several minutes, the truth finally sunk in. Being pinned under the man felt right, natural, and that was a revelation both terrifying and overwhelming at the same time.
What was it about Sam Kage that brought all my walls crumbling down? And even though I had no idea, I did know that I had to be alone to figure it out. I needed the man out of my bed. When I pushed against him he rolled off of me, but the arm that had been under my cheek curled around my shoulder and brought me over on top of him. He tucked my head under his chin before smoothing his hand down my spine.
"Are you awake?"
"No," he growled, his voice full of gravel, patting my ass a minute before he pulled the comforter up and covered us both. His arm around my back left me unable to move as he rubbed his thigh between my legs.
"Sam, you gotta go. I don't sleep with—"
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, his voice soft, hoarse, half asleep.
"You can't—"
He kissed my forehead and then my nose. "Close your eyes."
And I thought that there was no way I could, but his big, hard body w
as so warm and the beat of his heart so strong and steady and his fingers sliding though my hair... it was all too much. I couldn't have kept my eyes open if my life depended on it.
"You're safe with me," he said softly. "I promise."
"Sam, I—"
"Go to sleep. I'm here now. I'll take care of you."
And even though I thought it was the last thing I wanted, it was still nice to hear.
Chapter Seven
There was light from the windows in the room, and I turned my head to look out at the overcast sky. It was going to be another gray day in Chicago. I loved the dark days with the smell of rain in the air and the sky a comforting shade of clay. The sun always assaulted me. I liked the slower pace of a storm-washed sky. Turning, I laid my head back down on Sam's chest and listened to his slow in-and out-breaths and the steady rhythm of his heart. I had never been this close to anyone for such an extended period of time. His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me up, rubbing his chin in my hair. My face buried now in the hollow of his throat, my mouth resting on the warm skin of his neck. I didn't want to move because I didn't want the day to begin.
"Hey."
I tried to raise myself up off him, but the hand on the back of my neck kept me there, close.
"Jory."
I looked up at him as he yawned and stretched under me.
He gave me a lopsided grin before leaning close to kiss me.
"You should see your face." He smiled lazily, rolling over on top of me, pinning me to the bed. "You should see how you're lookin' at me."
I could only stare at him. Unbelievable that he was there. I never expected him to be there in the morning. I had expected him to run.
"Your eyes are... something."
He wasn't used to talking, to saying what he was thinking.
"Oh shit, that's what time it is," he yelled, suddenly having glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand. He scrambled out of bed, almost doing a face-plant when he got tangled up in the sheets. He was a whirlwind of activity, running around my apartment, grabbing his belt off the couch, his shoes from under the bed, untangling his shirt from the down comforter.
I sat up and watched him dart around before he took the stairs and I heard the door slam as he went out. It was weird to go from all that noise to dead silence. Seconds later the door creaked back open and he was crossing my floor to flop back down in front of me.
