Can't Touch This

by Pepper Winters

  My own chest constricted at the thought of slowly dying from breathlessness. How had he run around so long while I tried to catch him? Where did his energy come from barking and growling?

  I raked my hand through my hair. “Am I to blame? Did I scare him too much? Make him exercise too—”

  Vesper took my hand from where it rested on the dog bowl. “It’s not your fault, Ry. Adrenaline kicked in and kept him going. But he’s tired. His body has had enough and I don’t blame him.”

  Scar continued to eat, his ears twitching while listening to our voices. “How long does he have?”

  Vesper sighed. “Honestly? I’m not sure. If we kept him quiet for the next few days, pampered the hell out of him and gave him everything he missed out on, he might hold on for a week, possibly two to enjoy it. But he’d suffer. Or…” Her eyes flittered to her bag. “I could send him to sleep and grant him peace finally.”

  I jerked. “No, not yet.”

  She didn’t argue, merely nodded as if that was where her thoughts had gone too. Was it right to let the dog be breathless just because we didn’t want to be the ones to take his life? Or was it kind to give him a few cuddles and good dinners before he said goodbye?

  I didn’t know and who were we to make that decision on his behalf?

  While Scar took another mouthful, I risked patting his head. He didn’t grumble and I accepted the invitation to touch him. “What do you want, boy? Are you done and want to go, or are you happy to stick around for a bit?” I looked up. “What about surgery? Is there anything you can do to bring the heart back to normal size?”

  Vesper shook her head. “Not without flying him to specialised clinics—even then, it’s touch and go.”

  No apologises or explanations. It was what it was.

  My shoulders rolled. “Well, buddy, you tell us. We’ll take it by the hour. How about that?”

  His head bounced as he grabbed another mouthful of dwindling dinner.

  Vesper smiled. “I think that was a yes.”

  Silence fell as our attention remained solely on Scar. We didn’t speak as the battle weary Pusky Bull finished his food, yawned, and licked us in gratitude. When he stood on wobbly legs and left a patch of blood with every foot fall across the dusty wooden floor, I literally couldn’t fucking take it.

  “Can you take away his pain at least?”

  Vesper nodded. “Of course. Now he’s eaten, I’ll clean his wounds and bandage them.” She looked around the uninviting lounge. “Will he sleep in here? Or do you have a place with the other dogs?”

  “He can’t go in with the others.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “He’s a killer. He’s been bred to attack others. I can’t run that risk or freak out the other rescues.”

  “I agree.” Standing, she headed after Scar as he looked at the window where a breeze came in and whined. “I think he wants to go out. Do you have a dog bed you can set up at least? Give him his own space until…”

  Until he goes.

  “Yes, of course.” Jumping into action, I added, “You take him to do his business and I’ll get his room ready.” I grinned, but it felt tired and forced. “Can’t have him sleeping in anything less than luxury from now on.”

  She half-smiled. “You’re a good guy, Ryder. The best. And the dogs know it. You’re loved…by all of them.”

  The moonlight cast her in silver shadow and it was my heart that lurched this time, not my cock. The intensity of that inconsequential moment filled me with lead and bubbles grounding me at the same time as making me float away.

  I couldn’t reply.

  I merely nodded and turned on my heel to prepare the best few days of Scar’s life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ---------------------

  Vesper

  BY THE TIME SCAR HAD done his business outside and allowed me to wash his paws in betadine and apply topical cream with bandages, tiredness was a heavy shroud. I’d found a few puncture wounds on his left flank from another dog’s teeth and a few festering sores under his front arms.

  Every inch of him was inspected and tended to. I just wished I could reach into his chest and somehow fix his enlarged heart.

  The clock in the kitchen showed two forty a.m. by the time I was happy with his condition and given him a Schmacko treat I found in a drawer designated for utensils but was choc-a-block full of squeaky toys and dried jerky for dogs.

  I’d completely underestimated Ryder.

  Looking around his large but unhomely house, I picked up clues that he’d kept hidden. His humour and antics made him come across as carefree and slightly self-absorbed. But as my gaze landed on hammers and chisels and the occasional crude comment written by a finger in the dust on the kitchen top, I saw a man who had a fascination with fixing broken things.

  Dogs. Houses. Maybe even humans, too.

  I hadn’t been broken, but I had forgotten how to laugh; how to ask myself what I truly wanted. That night in my apartment had been the first honest to God connection I’d felt—not toward him but toward myself.

  I’d been true and didn’t hide behind filters or thoughts of what I should be and how I should act.

  He had a gift, and he gave it so damn generously to everyone.

  Thinking of him must’ve summoned him as he appeared, his hands jammed in paint-splattered jeans like always, and his hair a mix of dark brown and plaster grey from dust. “How’s the invalid?”

  Scar wagged his tail as Ryder bent over and scratched behind his ear but his breathing was no better. The rattle and wheeze broke my heart.

  “Time for bed, buddy?”

  Scar licked his hand.

  Rubbing my lower back, I said, “He’s all done and I’ve given him a dose of Metacam which is an anti-inflammatory and painkiller. He’ll be feeling pretty happy right about now.”

  “That’s great.” Ryder stood. “In that case, time to show his highness his throne for the night and then, I want to show you something, too.”

  My heart skipped as Ryder patted his thigh. “Come on, boy. Your night of decadence isn’t over yet.”

  Scar hauled himself up with a war-weary groan. He took a few strides to become flexible enough to walk without stumbling.

  I wrapped my arms around myself as I followed the two males from the kitchen, through the partially renovated foyer with its gorgeous wood panelling and cobwebbed chandelier, and up the elegant sweeping wide staircase.

  Half way up, Scar stopped mid-step, coughing and gasping, trying to catch his breath.

  Instead of making a big deal out of it, Ryder scooped up the solid muscle and carried the killing machine up the final steps and into a room off the hall.

  Once again, my heart tied itself up with string and swooned.

  Stepping into Ryder’s bedroom, I slammed to a stop. “Oh my God, Ry.”

  He looked over his shoulder as he carried the pooch to the window seat that could easily fit four people to watch the gardens below and the scattered cushions and towels littered in the horse-shoe shape.

  It was a bed fit for royalty (man or beast) with a sheet propped up with two chairs to create a tent/den. A large water bowl, another bowl full of a second dinner, a fluffy rabbit toy, a long piece of jerky, and a brand new green tennis ball rounded off the boudoir.

  Placing Scar down, the dog immediately wagged his tail so hard his body jiggled. He beelined straight to the doggy tent of heaven and plonked himself down in a cloud of cushions with the biggest grin on his face.

  Ignoring his breathlessness, he scooped up the tennis ball and chewed.

  I couldn’t stop myself. Coming up behind Ryder, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “What you just did makes you the best person I know.”

  He swivelled in my arms. “The best, huh?”

  I nodded, forcing myself to smile even though sadness sat heavy from the evening’s prognosis. “One hundred percent. The best. My favourite person to date.”

  His hands came up, capturing my cheeks in a possessive hold.
“That’s only because you’ve only known me a few days.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve known you a few months and admittedly most of them were spent trying to avoid your high handed commands but now…now I truly see you.”

  He gasped dramatically, pressing his forehead against mine. His hazel eyes captured me, full of seriousness even as he chuckled. “Oh, no. My secrets are out. How can I get into your pants now you know the real me? I thought all attractive men were supposed to bark orders and be so alpha they carried a riding crop in their back pocket to keep their harem in line.”

  “I must admit a riding crop sounds interesting.” My lips tingled as he brushed his ever so lightly over mine. “However, I prefer a man who has a heart.”

  “How do you know I have one?”

  I laughed. “You’re right. I think you might have two with the generosity you give.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Compliments make me nauseous.”

  I laughed, pulling my face from his grip. Pressing my ear against this chest, I listened to the solid thump thump of his beating organ. “Ah, my mistake; you only have one. I take your generosity factor back.”

  “Thank hell for that.” His fingers twined in my hair, tugging my head back and kissing me.

  The kiss started simple and thoughtless—as if we’d kissed a million times before. But it swiftly turned deeper and hotter, reaching inside me and systematically melting my insides and heating my blood at the same time.

  Walking me backward to the only piece of furniture in the room, he didn’t stop until I tumbled onto his bed. The soft puff of black sheets billowed as I fell. However, I wasn’t allowed to rest. Ryder continued to push me as I crawled backward, scooting my butt higher as he climbed over me on his hands and knees.

  He never stopped kissing me.

  I never stopped kissing him.

  Bracing himself over me, he balanced enough to have the use of his fingers which found the buttons of my peach blouse and undid them one at a time. He didn’t break the hypnotic rhythm we’d wordlessly set.

  There was no rush this time. No banter. No tease.

  We’d touched something deeper tonight and in honour of that, jokes had been put on hold for now.

  I didn’t even care Scar was in his little fort on the floor, most likely listening, if not watching. The audience factor wasn’t new. My damn cat loved to hang out in the bathroom when I took a shower and heaven forbid she ever left me alone when I peed.

  She had to be near me at all times and having a feline watch me wash or a canine watch me sleep with Ryder for the first time…whatever.

  “Holy fuck, you’re not wearing a bra.” Ryder captured my breasts the moment the last button was undone, teasing my nipples.

  I arched into him, biting my lip as he kissed his way down my throat and sucked my left nipple into his mouth.

  “Christ, I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

  I moaned as he delivered the same treatment to the other breast.

  While he kissed and licked my girls, his fingers continued their journey downward, undoing my jeans button and zipper, and silently pulling the tight denim down my legs.

  Once they were off, I lay in just my pale pink knickers and blinked at this man who completely beguiled me.

  “I don’t want to talk, okay?” he whispered as he grabbed his t-shirt behind his head and pulled it off, mussing his hair. “I don’t want to joke or turn this into something less than what it is.”

  His naked torso with perfect shadows and ridges of muscles made my mouth water.

  I trembled. I wanted to ask what this was. What this meant to him. But I wasn’t coy, and I knew.

  This was more than what we found in our first kiss. More than we expected from kinky text messages.

  This was more, so much more, and I didn’t know if I was ready.

  Standing over me on his knees, Ryder never broke eye contact as he unbuckled his jeans. Watching him pull down his zipper was one of the most erotically charged things I’d ever seen.

  Rolling off me to lie on his back, he tugged off the denim and pulled a foil packet from the back pocket. With the hottest glare, he removed his boxer-briefs and tucked the condom under the pillow then reached for me.

  I went willingly into his arms.

  His mouth once again found mine, and we kissed hard, fast, wet.

  His fingers trailed over my skin and cupped between my legs, teasing me through the lace. He groaned, finding how wet I was and gently removed the final piece of clothing keeping us chaste.

  His touch found me once again and my mouth shot wide as he ever so slowly inserted a finger inside me. His chest rose and fell as he hugged me close, giving me nowhere to run as he claimed me.

  “You feel so good.” His finger hooked inside me. “So hot and wet and…” He didn’t finish, seeking my lips with his and falling into another kiss.

  I moaned, my back arching as he inserted another finger, rubbing my clit with his thumb. Everything he did was unhurried with no flashy comments or cheeky smirks. The seriousness of what we did made our body’s slick with sweat and our hearts buck a mile a minute.

  As he drew every nerve ending into my pussy with his magical touch, I weaved my right hand between his legs and fisted his throbbing length.

  He bit my throat, grunting with such deep-seated need my stomach flipped. I’d never been so wrapped up in another person before. Never had their breath on my cheek so sensitive it almost hurt. Never kissed someone to the point where my lips bruised and all I could think about was them.

  My fingers lassoed around him, jerking up and down while my thumb swirled the wet crown.

  “Jesus, Ves.” He bowed into me, wedging his face into the crook of my neck. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I never want you to stop.”

  I cried out as his fingers worked faster, matching the tempo as I jerked him off. Our legs squirmed as intensity reached a fever. Our skin slick and breathing manic.

  As our lips found each other again, we gave up being human and forgot everything but pleasure.

  “I need you,” he panted. “Can I have you?”

  “I need you, too. Please, I need you inside me.”

  His fingers massaged me again, dragging another wave of wetness and a coil of muscles to band in preparation for a release.

  “Now, Ryder.”

  Our thoughts were scattered and sex-drunk as he pulled his hand free, opened the condom, and passed it to me.

  His eyes locked on mine as I accepted the slippery devil and ever so slowly rolled it over him. Feeling the latex slickness encase the hot hard rod that soon would be inside me made me shiver uncontrollably.

  “Hey…” he murmured, rubbing away my sudden goosebumps. “Are you okay?” His face was tight and etched in shadow—the desire to climb inside me overriding most of his control. But he still looked at me gently, sweetly, and I knew if I said to stop, no matter how painful, he would.

  But I didn’t want to stop.

  I wanted this too damn much.

  I wanted him.

  Not just now but for so much longer than that.

  I spread my legs, giving him wordless assurance I was more than all right. “I’m going out of my mind to feel you inside me.”

  The moment stretched on. Instead of taking up my offer, Ryder held himself up with his elbow and cupped my cheek. His eyes ensured mine as he kissed me.

  We kissed while watching each other.

  Our tongues met.

  Our tastes merged.

  And through it all, we never looked away.

  When he pulled back, he whispered, “I really like you, Vesper Fairfax.”

  I sucked in a breath. “I really like you, Ryder Carson.”

  Slowly positioning himself over me, he settled between my legs. “I think I might like you more than I should.” He groaned as the tip of his cock found my entrance. “And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

  I couldn’t look away from his body joining with m
ine, hovering at the boundary from taking me. “You’re not alone. I’m scared.”

  His eyes flared. “Don’t be scared.” His body trembled, his hips already thrusting a little, bypassing his command to stay stiff. “I’m not scared. And you’re the one making me fall.”

  I had to close my eyes. The intensity grabbed all my internal organs and smashed them into one painful mess.

  He slipped inside me a little, yanking me back to him. “Is this okay?”

  I licked my lips, focusing on the physical rather than emotional sensations. “A thousand times yes.”

  A smirk teased his lips. “I know missionary isn’t exactly what we spoke about, but we have plenty of time for other exciting positions.”

  “Missionary is exactly what I need tonight.”

  And it was true.

  The thought of close contact, of hugging with our arms and eyes locked as he filled me for the first time, was exactly how it should be.

  I needed that depth, mainly due to the awful news about Scar, and partly due to the sudden connection I felt to him after tonight.

  Missionary was a craving I had to fulfil, and I was glad he felt the same way.

  I gasped as he slid inch by inch inside me, pushing firm but gentle past my body’s first denial and sliding deep and big.

  I shivered at the fullness, the rightness.

  And when he moved for the first time.

  Wow.

  I lost coherent thought and let him cast me away.

  Our bodies joined perfectly. There was no quip about touching it or riding it. No laughter. But there was connection and desire and that was so damn powerful, I ached to come and he’d only just entered me.

  His mouth descended on mine again.

  We kissed and fucked to a steady beat, slowly increasing in tempo the higher we climbed.

  My legs tightened around his hips as I encouraged him deeper, faster, harder.

  “Christ, Ves.” He buried his face in my hair. “I need to come. The past two days have been too fucking much.”

  My head tossed back as I welcomed tingly sparks of a building orgasm. My inner muscles popped and fizzed, gathering a storm. “Come. I’ll come with you. Just…don’t stop.”