Saints Of Denver: Charged Part 8

I squeezed her then stepped away as Quaid joined our little party.

"Everyone all right? Does the fire chief have any information? Do we know if it was an accident or arson?" He fired the questions at no one in particular as we all gaped at him. He must have noticed that all of us were still sh.e.l.l-shocked at the idea of everything being gone and gentled his tone as he reached out and brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Sorry. I was in court and didn't really have time to s.h.i.+ft gears when I got the call. I'm still in cross-examination mode. Are you okay?"

I sighed and fought the urge to turn my face into his palm. "Yeah, other than the fact that everything I own, not that it was much, is now gone."

My mom cleared her throat and snuggled into my dad's side. He didn't seem to notice because he was too busy glaring daggers at Quaid and the spot on my face where his fingers lingered. "I told your dad, on the way over, that you guys are coming to stay with me," my mom said. "I'm taller than you, but I have enough stuff in my closet that you can borrow until we can start to replace your own things."

s.h.i.+t. I hadn't even thought about that part of it. Where was I supposed to go now that the only place that had ever been home was gone?

Asa must have seen the panic in my eyes because he offered up, "You guys can come crash at the new house with me and Royal. We have the room and my lady isn't just gorgeous, she is also armed. Might be nice to have a cop on hand if this is tied to you testifying against the junkie."

My dad opened his mouth to refuse at the same time I opened mine to accept the offer. I didn't know how Asa's pretty girlfriend would feel about having me under her roof, but I would much rather be the bone of contention between the redhead and the southern charmer than the cause of unease and unrest at my mother's home.

As it turned out the dark horse, or rather the blond horse in the expensive suit, also wanted in on the race. Quaid touched my elbow and, like it had in court, the tiny gesture stilled some of the panic and anxiety that was rampaging inside of me.

"You can come stay with me. If someone is watching you, they'll never think to look for you at my place, and if this is tied to the case against the boyfriend, I can help navigate the legal waters you're going to end up swimming in." He waved at the house. "If this is arson, then it's a clear threat, which is tampering with a witness, and obvious witness intimidation. The police need to be informed about what's going on and how this could be tied to something so much bigger. I can help. I want to help you."

He had been helping from the very beginning, so unsurprisingly I was going to make the only choice that made sense ... the absolute worst one.

I nodded at him and saw my dad frown as Asa gave me a speculative look.

"I'm going to stay with Quaid." And maybe when I was done letting myself fall in love with him, which would inevitably lead to him breaking my heart, I would finally have hit the threshold of hurt I was willing to put myself through as punishment. Because I was pretty sure when Quaid Jackson was done with me, there would be nothing on earth that could feel as bad or be as painful as that was going to be.

CHAPTER 10.

Quaid

The cops grilled Avett for hours. They asked her a hundred different questions about her relations.h.i.+p with Jared about the guys he stole the money and drugs from, about the robbery, and the guys parked out in front of her house. I was glad they were taking the situation seriously, but I was frustrated beyond belief that there was nothing they could do with the minimal information she gave them. All she could tell them was what the car that was parked out in front of the house looked like, and she had a vague description of what the guys that broke into Jared's apartment and roughed her up looked like. Hearing her halting and jerky words as she went over that evening and the details that she remembered made me want to put my fist through the nearest wall. This girl was a fighter, a tornado full of life and energy, and when those winds died down as she explained how scared she had been, as she told the detective interviewing her how close she had come to being violated and changed forever, the echo of emptiness and fear in her voice ripped at me and fired up possessive and protective instincts that I only seemed to have when it came to this pink-haired hurricane.

The detective told us he was going to speak with Jared, who was still behind bars as he was denied bail, and he informed us that he would be in touch as soon as he heard from the fire department on whether the fire was accidental or purposely set. There was no doubt in my mind the fire was a message, that it had been set for the purpose of intimidating and frightening Avett, but I couldn't figure out what they were trying to scare her or warn her off of. In my line of work, I knew there was always a motive behind actions, and once we had the motive I would feel a whole lot better about her safety. It was impossible to win a fight if you didn't know what exactly it was that the opponent had to lose, if they lost.

I hustled a very somber and very quiet Avett out of the cop-shop and offered to swing by the closest mall or Target so she could grab some essentials, but she shook her head and told me that all she wanted was a shower and a nap. Her normally creamy and rosey complexion was deathly pale and her pretty, pouty mouth was pulled in a tight line as she nibbled anxiously on the inside of her cheek. Her colorful eyes were bleak and rimmed with fine red lines as she blinked rapidly to keep the moisture I could see trapped inside at bay. The finality of the fire, the absolute destruction of everything tangible that she held near and dear to her, was. .h.i.tting her hard. She was trying to keep the enormity of the loss and the emotions that went with it in check, but the pain she was feeling, the hurt that was swirling around her like a living and breathing thing, couldn't be ignored. I wanted to reach for her hand, to offer some kind of comfort and solace, but she was so close to the edge of entirely breaking that I figured I should wait until we got back to my place. She could shatter once we were there. Truthfully, the place was so sterile, so untouched by any kind of real life, that it could only be improved by the kind of mess that came with someone like this pink-haired handful. Her kind of destruction could be beautiful, if the right person was around to help her clean up the rubble and put the pieces back where they belonged.

I parked the truck in the attached parking garage and took her elbow so I could guide her to the elevator that would drop us off in the penthouse loft. She didn't say a word the entire ride up, and when I unlocked the door and ushered her inside, I was expecting her to be impressed by the high ceilings with their crisscrossed ductwork and the exposed brick that made up the back wall of the kitchen. I was expecting her to let out a little gasp at the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views that showcased both the sweeping Denver skyline and the soaring mountains off in the distance. It was literally a million-plus view and it often did more to seduce women once they were in my home than anything I could say or do.

I should have known Avett wouldn't respond in any of the ways I was used to. She paid no attention to the expensive leather sectional. The colossal media center, which could rival an IMAX movie screen, didn't faze her. The imported marble floors under her combat-booted feet went ignored and so did the ma.s.sive king-sized bed that was pushed up against a wall decorated with carefully curated artwork that probably cost more than her tuition for college had been. As a whole, she seemed entirely unimpressed by my meticulously decorated and designed home, but when her eyes. .h.i.t the kitchen with its s.h.i.+ny, never-used stainless steel appliances and chef-quality range, some of her fire flared in her eyes.

She wandered over to the one part of my home that I never spent time in and caressed the six burner stove like it was her lover. She looked over her shoulder at me and flashed me a weak grin. "This kitchen is beautiful. I could spend a lot of time in here." It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her what she thought of the rest of the place, but considering she had lost everything and no longer had anything, seeking validation for a place filled with useless trappings she didn't even notice seemed thoughtless and adolescent. I wasn't sure why I wanted her approval so badly anyway. I was the one that had to live here, the one that had to have the packaging that matched what I was trying to sell to the world.

"The bathroom is through the door on the other side of the bed. I'll find you a T-s.h.i.+rt and some sweats to hold you over while I toss your stuff in the wash."

She nodded stiffly and walked around the granite countertop that separated the kitchen area from the living room. She wrinkled her nose and tried to smile but it turned into a grimace that had my heart twisting as tightly as her lips.

"I smell like smoke, don't I?" She picked up the end of her braid and pulled off the tie that held the dusky, pink strands woven together.

I bit back a groan and made my way over to where she was standing, looking lost and so out of place in this overly extravagant loft. She was more breathtaking than anything seen out those expensive-a.s.s windows, and she was far more interesting and colorful than any of the art that hung uselessly on the walls. I pulled her hands away from her hair and tunneled my fingers in the thick and oddly colored strands so I could finish unwinding her hair for her. She looked up at me with a cyclone of emotions swirling in her eyes and I knew all she could do was work through what she was feeling and let the storm rage. For her, I wanted to be impermeable and weatherproof.

"It was only things. You know that, right?" My voice was gruff, and when I had her hair loose and falling all around her face like a wavy pink cloud, I took a step back and met her troubled gaze.

She shrugged. "Only things, but those things meant a lot. All the stuff my dad kept from his days in the service, and the memorabilia he kept from the bar over the years-none of that can be replaced and that sucks, no matter how you look at it."

I grunted a little and moved towards the walk-in closet that lived under the stairwell that led to the upper loft, where my office and home law library were.

"You mean a lot, too, Avett. I'm sure your dad would be willing to sacrifice anything that he had as long as it meant you were safe and sound. You're both lucky."

She made a strangled sound low in her throat and started to move towards where the bathroom was located. I wondered if the slate walk-in shower, with its gla.s.s surround and multiple showerheads, would impress her half as much as the kitchen did. I doubted it, but I knew it would be a lot easier for her to let go, to break down in the shower, than it would be over the convection oven.

She paused at the doorway and looked at me over her shoulder and I knew that the tears she had been fighting back were going to fall any second. "Not exactly feeling lucky at the moment."

I wasn't surprised that was her response, but she was lucky. She was lucky she was out of jail, and that even though she tried to hide it, her innocence showed through. She was lucky that no one got hurt today and that the fire had eventually been contained so none of the neighbors' houses had been damaged. She was lucky she had two parents that loved her and supported her, no matter what kind of situation she was in. No one blamed her for the blaze today, no one except for her. She was lucky that she was young enough that none of her bad choices would be the be-all and end-all of who she was, and that she still had time to figure her life out. She was lucky that so many people wanted to keep her safe, and be there for her while she finished what was started the night of the robbery. She was lucky she didn't have to face anything that was happening or what was coming down the pike alone.

And I was one lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d that she was here.

She wasn't here for the million-dollar view. She wasn't here because of the zeros attached to the balance in my bank account. She couldn't care less that I was on the fast track to making partner at the firm, and she wasn't here for what I could do for her. In fact, when the s.h.i.+t hit the fan, I had to force her to take my help.

When I got the call from Asa that Brite's house was in flames and that Avett was taking the blow hard, it had been all I could do not to run out of the courtroom in the middle of my cross-examination. I'd had to call a brief recess and debrief my second chair to finish the questioning before I could leave. I'd never left court in the middle of a session. I'd never entrusted anyone else to do the cross-examination because I was always sure no one would get the job done as well as I could. But today I didn't care; all I wanted to do was get to the scene of the fire and make sure that Avett was okay. As soon as I arrived, I knew I wanted to take her home with me.

She looked so small and fragile as the fire roared behind her. I wanted to take care of her. I was so convinced that Lottie had killed any kind of compa.s.sion and all the concern I had for other people, but when I saw Avett barely holding on, empathy flooded me. I wanted to make it better for her so badly I could taste it on my tongue.

And she had picked me. She was here with me, instead of with her parents where they could all grieve the loss together. She trusted me to make things better for her and believed that I had something to offer that no one else did. So even though I was convinced I was emotionally tapped out, and that my heart and soul were barren of anything viable to offer, I was going to sc.r.a.pe the bottom of the emotional barrel and offer Avett Walker whatever sc.r.a.ps I had left so I could help her through this.

There was plenty of time to settle into being the angry, bitter, jaded, materialistic son of a b.i.t.c.h I had become since my divorce. With her, and for her, I could simply ... exist. I didn't have to force anything and life could simply be real. I wasn't sure if I knew what a real life even looked like anymore, but the longer I was around Avett, the better my cloudy vision of what should and shouldn't matter became.

I found an old T-s.h.i.+rt with ARMY scrawled across it in faded letters. The thing had fit when I was twenty pounds lighter and a lifetime less cynical. I knew there was no way in h.e.l.l her tiny frame could fit into any of my sweatpants, so I rummaged around until I found a pair of soft flannel boxers that Lottie had given me one Christmas that were still in the packaging. I should have known then and there that if the woman I was married to, went to bed next to every single night, didn't even notice that I was a boxer-brief guy that the marriage was doomed. Her lack of interest in me and my underwear should have been the beginning of the end.

I knocked lightly on the door so Avett could hear me over the running water. She left the door open a crack and her smoky scented clothes, in a sloppily folded pile, were next to the sink. The sight made me grin because even when she was trying to be neat and tidy she was still a jumbled disarray.

"Avett, I'm gonna leave this stuff for you and toss ..." I was going to tell her that her clothes would be in the wash but the words died on the tip of my tongue when her hiccuping sob sucker-punched me right in the heart.

I knew she was going to need a moment, that all her fight had drained out of her and left her depleted and worn, but I didn't expect her to be devastated, on the floor of the luxurious shower like a hurricane that had lost all the wind that kept it raging.

She was lying on her side, naked and shaking as water poured down on her. Her eyes were closed, but even through the steam and the water rus.h.i.+ng over her face, I could see the tears squeezing their way out between her tightly clenched lashes. This was what uttered devastation looked like. This was the wreckage that was left behind after the storm pa.s.sed. Another whimpering sound like that of an injured animal escaped her, and I couldn't stop myself from moving towards her. I'd heard men that had made their first kill and seen their friends and brothers in arms die up close and personal sound less tragic and heartbroken than she did at that moment.

I tossed the clothes that were now crushed in my clenched hands on the sink, and without even a thought as to what the water would do to my Bruno Magli loafers or my favorite silk tie, I walked into the shower and bent down so that the cooling water was. .h.i.tting me and not her. I reached up to crank the tap off and picked up her quivering form. She was both too hot and too cold as she curled an arm around my neck and continued to whimper and cry into the now-soaked fabric of my s.h.i.+rt. She was shaking so hard that it was hard to hold on to her naked skin, not that my d.i.c.k was concerned with her volatile emotional state. All it recognized was that she was wet, completely bare, and clinging to me like I was the last thing she had in this entire world. All of those things made the insensitive b.a.s.t.a.r.d very happy and very eager to get closer to her.

I flicked my sopping hair out of my eyes and balanced precariously as I juggled to hold on to her and to get out of my soggy and most definitely ruined shoes. I sat on the edge of the bed with her slight weight in my lap and lifted a hand so I could push her tangled and dripping hair away from her face. Water was leaching off of both of us and onto the hand painted duvet cover but I hardly noticed because she peeled her teary eyes open and locked them on mine.

"I'm a mess." Her voice was broken, and in her gaze I could see that her heart was, too. When I was younger, I never had anything, so losing it never even occurred to me. As an adult, I had everything and I told myself I would do whatever it took to hold on to all of it, but seeing this vibrant and vital woman destroyed and broken over things that could burn, lost over items that were only belongings, I started to wonder if my effort to acquire possessions of value and prestige had been misguided and focused on the wrong priorities all along.

"I know you are. That's kind of my favorite thing about you."

Her arm around my neck tightened and her chilly fingers found their way into the hair on the back of my head.

"Shut up." She said it without heat, and despite the sorrow in her gaze, a rough grin pulled at her mouth.

I tugged on the slippery strands of her hair and watched as it coiled around the length of my fingers. "It's true. I find the chaos that surrounds you fascinating and intriguing. It seems to be as much of who you are as this pink hair. You're never boring or predictable."

Her dark eyebrows furrowed a little and she s.h.i.+fted on my lap so that instead of sitting across my legs, she was straddling me, with both her arms around my neck and her very bare center hovering right over the damp cloth that covered my d.i.c.k. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed into my chest and I bit back a groan as she reached for the knot in my tie, not to loosen it, but to pull me closer.

"I don't want to be chaos. I want to be something and someone that doesn't destroy everything that it cares about without even trying." She tugged me until our lips were lined up, and when I stuck the tip of my tongue out to trace the curve of her bottom lip, I could taste the salt from her tears and the tang of her longing.

"Some of us are born into the storm and some of us are born to chase after it, I guess." I breathed the words into her as she wiggled her a.s.s and set herself more fully onto my erect c.o.c.k. There was no missing the way that it throbbed between us or that the only thing separating me from her entrance was the cage of my metal zipper. I was going to have a permanent indentation from the fastener on the underside of my d.i.c.k if she didn't stop moving around. I dug my fingers into the curve of her hip and lifted one hand to the side of her face.

She blinked at me and then leaned forward just enough so that her forehead rested against mine. "What happens when the person born to chase the storm finally catches it?"

I chuckled and rolled to the side so that she was trapped between me and the mattress. "They ride it out. That's the only thing you can do when you're caught in a downpour."

Slowly, the sadness in her eyes started to break and a soft smile that was filled with all of that sweet she was so stingy with started to hover over her mouth and that was worth more than any single item I had fastidiously picked out for this loft.

She used her grip on my tie to pull me down into a kiss that was much softer and sweeter than the one up against the door. She also started pulling on the knot that stubbornly refused to loosen, now that it was wet. While she wrestled with the noose around my neck, I started pulling my clammy s.h.i.+rt off and went to work on devouring her mouth. I wanted to leave no part of her untouched or untasted. I wanted to take away the burn of the fire and loss and replace it with scorching pa.s.sion and the blaze of desire. I wanted her to forget what she was mourning, for a little bit, so we could revel in what we had. Because whatever this thing was that we had when the two of us were together, it was something that absolutely deserved a f.u.c.king celebration.

When I had my s.h.i.+rt off and the stupid tie wrenched over my head since it wasn't coming undone, I leaned over her with one hand braced over her head and used the other to cup one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her skin was warming back up and the delicate, pink tip wasted no time in stabbing into the center of my palm as I gently fondled her. I kissed her lips, the corner of each eye that was still red and a little puffy. I kissed her flushed cheeks and the tip of her wrinkled nose as she made a face at me. I kissed her below her ear and nuzzled her jawline as I moved my hand down her torso.

Goose b.u.mps followed my fingertip as it traced over her ribs, down across her belly, and into the little indent of her belly b.u.t.ton. Her legs s.h.i.+fted restlessly on either side of my hips and her hands slid over my heated flesh in a sweeping caress.

Her voice was breathless and a little stunned when she turned her head and muttered in my ear, "I can't believe you have a big-a.s.s tattoo like that."

I was nipping at the pulse point on the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark. That wasn't my typical style in the bedroom. I liked things orderly and discrete. With her, though, I wanted to be remembered. I wanted her to look in the mirror and see what we had done. I wanted her to feel me when she moved, and I wanted her to remember what my voice in her ear sounded like as I made her come. I wanted her to be as consumed by this thing that raged between us, unchecked and untamed, as I was. So I sucked on the little bite I left and lifted my head as my wandering hand reached the apex of her thighs.

Her belly quivered when she realized where my touch was going but her swirling gaze was locked steadily on the giant image of the eagle I had tattooed across the entire center of my chest. In one talon, the ma.s.sive bird of prey held a shotgun, in the other, the scales of justice. I'd gotten it on a whim as soon as I pa.s.sed the bar. The thing took forever to complete since it was so big, and after every single session, Lottie had berated me for ruining my body forever. She hated it and had often asked me to leave my s.h.i.+rt on when we were in bed together.

From the look on Avett's face, she anything but hated the bold artwork that decorated my body. She also didn't hate it when I slid my fingers over her slick folds and found the warm and welcoming entrance to her body. Her hips canted up towards me and her hands fell to the tense muscles across my shoulders.

I kissed the crest of each breast and muttered against her soft skin, "I'm full of surprises."

She laughed a little, but it turned into a quiet moan as I engulfed the tip of one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the heat of my mouth. They were so firm and full. So proud and pretty, the way they sat up high on her chest. I wanted to drag my c.o.c.k between them. I wanted her to let me glide between the soft valley they would create, while she opened her pouty mouth and sucked me off at the other end. I wanted to imprint myself and all the greedy and needy ways I wanted her on every single part of her body. I rolled the pert and pointed nipple around the tip of my tongue as my fingers plowed through her moisture and rubbed against her begging c.l.i.t.

Her hands fell from my back and worked their way around to my front, where she started to claw at the clasp of my belt. She was panting hard and wiggling underneath me in a way that made my entire body tight. My d.i.c.k was demanding to be let in on the action but this wasn't about combusting. It was about a slow burn that would warm her up and stay with her.

I let go of the nipple I was torturing with a little pop and moved my mouth to her ear. I traced the delicate sh.e.l.l with the tip of my tongue and told her, "Hold off on that for a minute."

Her legs tried to clamp down around my questing fingers as I used them to pump in and out of her grasping channel, but my hips were in the way. "I want to see what other surprises you have, Quaid."

The little whine in her tone made me laugh. I'd had a lot of women anxious to get at the goods, but usually that was only because they thought the goods could get them something else. I couldn't remember ever being in bed with a woman that pouted because I didn't pull my d.i.c.k out fast enough to satisfy her. I'd never been with anyone eager to simply be with me because I was me. She was as full of surprises as I was.

I licked across her collarbone, caught her little center of arousal between my fingers, and gave the nub a gentle squeeze before letting go of that secret and pulsing flesh. The motion had her jerking up on the bed, which worked as I stood up between her legs and looked down at her.

"What are you doing?" She seemed bewildered and I liked that, for once, I was the one causing confusion and chaos between the two of us.

I grinned at her and felt it widen as she sighed a little and put a hand to where I knew her heart was racing in her chest.

"Surprising you."

She gasped my name in a shocked cry as I fell to my knees at the edge of the bed so that my face was directly in line with her core. She moved to close her legs but my shoulders were in the way, so she tried to scoot back on the bed but I was faster than she was, and grabbed hold of her hips so that I could pull her to my waiting mouth. I loved that when I put my hands and my mouth on her, there was something there to hold on to. Avett Walker might be as unpredictable and as untamable as the Colorado weather, but everything about her felt substantial and real in my hands.

I kissed the skin of her inner thigh and used my tongue to follow the curve of her leg where it dipped into her s.h.i.+ny and aroused center. I liked the pink on the top of her head an awful lot, but I had to say the luscious and welcoming pink that was begging to be licked and sucked between her legs was, hands down, my favorite and I told her so.

She gave a halfhearted protest when I hefted her up just enough that she had to put her legs on my shoulders to keep her balance as I set about consuming every single part of her.

I feasted on the juices that my mouth brought forth. I inhaled the moisture that my grinding and pumping fingers slicked through. I tasted every quiver, every shake, every flutter that her inner walls made as I f.u.c.ked her with my fingers and my tongue. I nibbled on that coiled bundle of nerves like it was the finest dessert I'd ever had, and when her hands were suddenly tangled in my hair and pulling me closer as she mumbled my name over and over again, I went back for seconds.

I ate at her, sucked on her, licked her from top to bottom until she was a thras.h.i.+ng and incoherent mess, and when she came across my tongue and her rush of desire flooded my mouth, she did it like she did everything else, wild and sweet. Her chaos enveloped me and I was pretty d.a.m.n sure that there would be no getting free from it.

I surged to my feet between her now-lax legs and put a hand to my belt buckle. She was lying there limp and quieter than she had ever been in my presence. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, but there was the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked destroyed again, but this time it was beautiful and s.e.xy. I wanted to pound on my chest and give myself a really douchey high five for being the one to put that look on her face.

My pants. .h.i.t the floor with a damp plop and her eyes never left me as I peeled my black boxer briefs down my legs. My excited c.o.c.k bounced at finally being set free and had no trouble aiming itself right at the heart of her. My d.i.c.k was like some kind of s.e.x- and heat-seeking missile and knew exactly where the sweet spot was.

Her eyes widened a little bit and she sat up so that my c.o.c.k was level with those glorious t.i.ts I was now having X-rated fantasies about f.u.c.king. She reached out her index finger and slowly spread the moisture that was gathered at the tip of my aching erection around the tip. I caught her wrist and gave her a pained look.

"I need to get a condom and get inside of you. If you put your hands on me I'm not going to last long enough to do either of those things."

Her eyes widened a little and she let her hand drop. She bit the curve of her bottom lip and I growled. I couldn't stop myself from leaning forward and putting my teeth where hers had been. When I lifted my head, she looked a little dazed and a whole lot turned on. I kissed her again and told her I would be back in a second.

The entire walk to the bathroom I scolded myself for not having a nightstand to keep my rubbers in. Having protection on hand when I needed it most suddenly seemed far more important than the view. I swore under my breath the entire time I walked away, and I swore loudly and desperately the entire time I walked back to her.

While I was gone, she had moved up on the bed so that her head was where it was supposed to be on the pillows and she was lying with her legs splayed, one small hand working between her thighs and the other clutching at her full breast. Her eyes were locked on me as I prowled towards her and there wasn't an ounce of embarra.s.sment or shame in them as she smirked up at me while licking her lips like she was starving and only I could sustain her.

"You took all the fun stuff with you when you left so I had to occupy myself somehow." Wild was fun. Sweet was addicting, and I wondered if I could live inside chaos forever if this was what it looked like.

My hard-on wouldn't allow for any more playtime. My d.i.c.k demanded satisfaction and my b.a.l.l.s felt like they were so tight that they might explode at the first touch of her against my needy flesh.

I crawled up over her and marveled at how much might was packed into such a tiny body. I braced myself over her with one arm, and put my other hand on top of hers, where it was leisurely stroking through the dampness left over from her earlier release. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I slowly started to work my way inside her body. Every inch that gave, every millimeter that accepted me and squeezed around me, felt like the greatest accomplishment I'd ever achieved.

She was pliable from my previous attentions and the dual manipulation of our fingers, but she was still small and I was not. It took more patience and more willpower than I ever used with anything to get my raging erection seated all the way inside of her. Once I was there and I could feel her body start to loosen and liquefy around me, I began to move.

I had every intention of taking my time, of enjoying the buildup and the slow burn I was still trying to stoke. Those intentions went to h.e.l.l the second she curled her leg around my hip and dug her heel sharply into my a.s.s. She tossed her head back on the pillow and started to pull and twist her nipple between her fingers with more force than I would have ever used on the velvety tip myself, and she abandoned our joint stimulation of her c.l.i.t to dig her short nails into my side as she told me, "More. I want more." And I wanted to give her everything she had lost and then some.

I'd never been the type to deny a woman anything she wanted in bed, and there was no way I was going to start with this one.

So we rode out the storm. Together.

I bucked into her. I pounded her into the mattress and I rode her hard and long. I kissed her until we both ran out of breath and thrust into her like I was using my c.o.c.k to tattoo my name inside of her. She fluttered around me and clamped down to pull me deeper and deeper inside of her. It wasn't exactly a perfect fit but it felt real and it felt raw. We had to work together to find pleasure. We had to give and take, to make sure we moved against each other, and on each other, so that we both got what we needed. It was s.e.x that took some work to make it amazing. That meant it was s.e.x that was unforgettable and ultimately rewarding, like no s.e.x before it had ever been.

We writhed together. We pulled and pushed at one another. We left marks. We took each other's air and screamed and growled each other's names. We sweated against each other and we burned everywhere we touched. We ruined each other and we repaired each other. It felt like the beginning and ending of everything I had ever known.

I lost my grip on her slippery center but that was okay, because her clever little fingers were back and every time she brushed across that quivering point between her legs, the back of her knuckles also rubbed along my engorged c.o.c.k. It was the best caress ever and only better when she started to purposely put as much friction as she could at the base of my c.o.c.k as I hammered in and out of her.