by Harper Sloan
"It's been almost a decade since I was in a relationship, Wren. I haven't the slightest clue on how to make one work because the last one I had blew up in my face in the most painful way. You want to do this; we have to be honest with each other. I mean it. I can't move forward without complete honesty."
She studies my face, trying to read between the lines of my words. I pull in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
"She lied to me, Wren. A lot. It's hard for me to trust people, especially women. But you weren't the only one who felt like something inside you was being snapped open when we met."
"So does this mean you're my not husband for real now?" she quips, trying to lighten the mood a little.
"As long as we keep the not babies to practice only."
"I won't lie to you, Chance."
"Then it looks like we're taking a gamble together."
Her smile is blinding. I've seen her face everywhere for the past five years, often smiling, but never like this. Something so genuine it's alight from the inside. Her legs lift, circling around my hips, and she locks her ankles behind my back in order to pull me flush against her center. I run my hands up her back and bend over slightly, holding her head in my hand when she is forced to tip it back to keep looking at me with that beautiful damn smile.
"At the risk of sounding like I only want you for your body, you have no idea how badly I want you to fuck me," she declares with a breathy voice.
"At the risk of sounding like a bastard, I want to fuck you probably more so."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
I push my hard length against her hotness. Even with my layers of clothes between us, it feels like her pussy is burning my cock.
"We need to get to know each other," I hedge, my eyes wanting to roll back in my head when she curls her nails into my shoulders and rolls her hips against me.
"We're already not married, hubby. It wouldn't be right not to consummate our union by ... unioning." She's almost panting, the color high on her cheeks.
"I don't think unioning is a word, babe."
"Jesus, Chance," she whines, not in an annoying way, but a needy one that is hot as fuck. "Playing twenty questions to get to know each other isn't going to change anything. You fuck me now or a week from now, it will happen. It's up to you if we have a few minutes of uncomfortable need or weeks. Because I can assure you, our bodies need this more than we could ever know. Feel that," she commands, rocking hard against my cock. "Feel that and then tell me that you don't need this."
"Goddamn," I hiss and then crush my mouth to hers in a kiss so brutally perfect all I can do is deepen it, drunk on the rush of her touch.
Our mouths feast on each other, hands fumbling to free each other's bodies of the clothes that stand between us. I hear myself grunt in displeasure when her mouth leaves mine, instantly wanting it back, but when she begins to pull my shirt up my torso, I calm slightly and lift my arms to help her remove it. The second her fingers drop my shirt, I pull hers up and over before putting my mouth back where I want it ... on her.
Our tongues move together. Slide and twist around wet breaths of need. Her hands roam around my back, pressing in and exploring my body, while the deep whines and mewls coming from her spike my need for her, to feel the heat of her pussy without anything between us.
My mouth, wet from hers, pulls back and travels down her slim neck, my hands coming around to cup her tits through the lace of her bra, the weight of them in my palms heavy. For such a tiny girl, she has bigger breasts than she should. Most girls as tiny as her have nothing for a chest but not Wren. They fit perfectly in my hands. I squeeze them, smiling against the curve of her neck when she whimpers. Leaning up, I look into her hooded eyes, curl my fingers under the cups of her bra, and jerk it down until both globes are freed. She gasps and pushes her chest into my hold, begging without words for more.
"Please," she cries when my thumb rolls over the turgid tips of her nipples. As much as I want to look down and see what color her nipples are, she's holding me captive as I watch her use my body to find her release. Her hips rock as best as she can, given our positions, trying to find friction. Her mouth is hanging slack, breathing erratic, and her eyes are begging me for more.
Without looking away, I bring my hands to her back and unhook her bra, her arms rushing from my body to get the offensive material away from our bodies. I bring a hand up, placing it between her tits, palm to her smooth skin, and push her slightly backward. She follows my silent demand, lying back with a squeak of shock when the coldness of the counter hits her fevered skin. Then I give myself the pleasure of seeing her almost fully naked, laid out for me like a gift for a starved man.
"Wren," I grunt, bending to pull one of her dusty nipples into my mouth. I bite it between my teeth while keeping my eyes locked with hers.
My tongue flicking against her nipple, quickly, back and forth until her back curls and she thrashes under my touch. My fucking cock is so hard right now, and unable to hold back, a burst of come leaves my body. I squeeze my eyes tight and hold back the rest of my orgasm. I know I won't be able to hold back much longer, not with her undulating under my touch from just my mouth on her nipple.
"Birth control, Wren?"
"Yes. Always. I do it. Fuck." She brings her hands up and starts to tweak her own nipples, repeating her mumbled words, still not making it clear if she understands what I'm asking. My eyes cross, and I feel more wetness coming from my cock.
"I'm clean," I pant, thrusting slightly while my hands caress her sides, leaving her to play with her own nipples, and curling my fingers into the waistband of her leggings. I use the leverage of that hold on her leggings to pull her harshly against my body. Her pussy grinds against my erection without delay. I look down, seeing the fabric against her center outlining her pussy lips as they widen to seek out my length. "I was tested six months ago, and even before that, it had been a while. Be sure you understand me."
"Goddamn, Chance. Take off our pants and get your big fat cock inside me now!" she screams, letting go of her tits to slap her hands against the counter and lift her head to give me a look of desperation.
"Not until you tell me what I need to know, baby."
"I'm on the pill. I'm clean. And it's been what feels like an eternity, so please stop stalling and put an end to this burning need I feel consuming me before it kills me," she gasps, panting with wild eyes.
I step back, pulling my fingers free of the band at her waist. Unbuckling my belt, I snap the buttons of my jeans open. With harsh movements, I push them down my legs, stepping out of both my jeans and briefs. My cock, erect and wet from my own come, points up in the air. When I look up from my red, angry, and very needy cock, I see Wren wiggling against the counter, trying to get her leggings off her body without much success.
"Need some help?" I ask, palming my cock to stroke it lazily. She looks up at my question, and her eyes widen when she sees that I'm standing there naked, not even bothering to hide her hungry gaze as she watches my hand fist my length.
"Get these pants off me. I don't even care that they're unicorns and a print I had to hunt down because all those eager bitches always steal the best ones first. Cut them off now. Cut them off!"
"Unicorns?" I bark out a laugh.
"God. Shit, Chance Nash, now is not the time for me to school you on the ins and outs of LuLaRoe!"
"Laluwho?"
Her eyes narrow at my teasing. I can't remember ever feeling this much heavy need for someone, yet here we are joking. Taking pity on her, I step forward and peel the tight as fuck fabric down her legs. Her bare pussy, glistening with her arousal, is the first thing I see, and my mouth waters instantly.
"No way, mister. There will be plenty of time for a taste test later--for both of us--but if you don't get that fat cock inside me right now, I swear to God I'm going to die. I really will." She throws the words at me, but her attention is solely on my cock. My hand is back to stroking it with lazy movements. "You ser
iously have the most beautiful penis I've ever seen."
My eyes fly back to her face. "Not sure if I like being compared to the other cocks you've seen."
"The thickest," she continues wickedly.
"Wren," I warn.
"Maybe the longest, but I would have to get a closer look to say for sure," she prods, knowing she's pushing my control over the edge.
"I should give him a name, so he knows how much I appreciate his perfection." She twists her body on the island; with my position between her spread legs, I see a small path of wetness from her cunt to the back of her, disappearing where the counter meets her skin.
"Hush."
"Make me," she slurs.
"With. Fucking. Pleasure."
With my hand still fisting my cock, I line myself up with her opening and push just the tip into her overheated flesh. My hands move up, thumbs sliding against the lips of her sex as my hands go to curl around her hips. I watch her widen around the tip of my cock, not even the thickest part of me, and I grind my teeth, a deeply animalistic grunt coming from deep within me.
Her tiny hands wrap around my wrists, not able to completely touch. I look up briefly, seeing her chin to her chest while she looks at where our bodies join. With my paused movements, she looks up and pleads with me silently.
"The second I feel your body ripple against my cock, you will be mine, Wrenlee. Even if you ever decide you don't want me, I'm not sure I'll grant you that. Especially not after I feel you hug me tight inside your body, sucking my come from my cock. If we're taking a gamble together, it's all in, or we fold before the call."
With her hold on my wrists, she pulls, impaling herself all the way down my length until I feel the wetness of her cunt against the base of my shaft. Her sharp cry echoes around the kitchen, tangling and dancing with the grunt of satisfaction I feel from her heat sheathing me.
We move together, her body welcoming mine with each and every thrust. Her quivering heat sucking my cock back each time I retreat from her. Never, it's never felt like this. My movements falter when she lifts her body from her position on the island, hands going to my shoulders.
"Fuck, you feel perfect," I tell her with a strain to my words. "So fucking perfect against my cock, in my arms--mine. Never ..." I thrust deep, bottoming out and lifting her from the island. "Felt ..." I lift her up from my cock before dropping her down and flexing my ass to attempt to get deeper into heaven. "Better." I groan, her nails digging into my shoulders as she throws her head back and screams, her pussy flexing in pulsing release. I continue to lift her up and pull her down on my body, riding out her orgasm while she screams my name over and over with that sexy rasp of hers. Only when I feel her easing down from her pleasure do I give in to mine. I drop my forehead to her sweaty chest and groan out my own release deep into her body.
"I think I could get used to unioning with you, hubby," she pants, lifting one of her hands to run her fingernails against my scalp, urging me without her words to give her my eyes.
"Yeah," I breathe, looking up. "I'm pretty sure I could get used to unioning with you, too."
I ignore the nickname, again, finding that it doesn't even slightly annoy me. Stranger yet, I find I don't mind the visions that her nicknames put into my head each and every time she jokingly says it. I give her a light smack on her ass then take her lips in a slow, knee-knocking kiss. Walking through the house, I head toward her bedroom with my semi-hard cock still inside her body, and I push all my previous reservations about this woman out of my mind.
I had good intentions in trying to dissuade our attraction, but now that I've had her, I know I won't be able to give this up. She isn't the only one who felt that emptiness disappear when we met. She will never know how right she was. I might not know what I'm doing when it comes to being in a relationship, but I know one thing without a shadow of a doubt--the only thing impossible about us being together would be if we deny us each other.
"What's your biggest regret," I ask him. My head against his chest, I draw my finger in lazy swirls, tracing each peak and valley of his abdominal muscles.
"Kind of heavy for after-sex cuddles, isn't it?" he lightheartedly retorts as a huff of air escapes him with his silent laugh. His moving shoulders make my head bounce a little.
"Hey, now! You just asked me what my most embarrassing moment was." I gasp, playfully swatting his chest with my free hand. "Turnabout is fair play."
"A tampon string hanging out isn't that embarrassing."
I lift up to my elbow and gaze down at him with narrowed eyes. His arm that isn't currently being used as my pillow comes off the bed, and one long, oddly sexy finger pushes some of my wild hair out of my face.
"A tampon string hanging out while on the stage of a sold-out concert sure is! Seriously, you don't get the mortification level of that, being a man and all, but it was terrible."
His shoulders shake, deep rumbles of his manly chuckles escaping him. I'm momentarily struck dumb by the small smile, but I give my head a shake in an attempt to clear what I've been lovingly referring to as the 'brain-dead buzz' caused by his smile. I've been proud of my ability to adapt when it comes to what this man does to me.
His lips part, those teeth come out--teeth that I now know feel deliriously good when they're on my body--and his small smile turns broad and big. Okay, I'm clearly not that good at adapting because he starts laughing even harder as I zone out, just taking him in.
"We're going to have to work on that." He laughs, still smiling like the handsome devil he is.
"I'm not sure I can," I tell his mouth.
"Baby, you keep making me as happy as I feel right now, and you're going to have to. Otherwise, it's going to get fucking awkward when you just keep spacing out all the time."
"Whatever," I mumble in mock irritation, dropping back to cuddle into his side.
Maybe if I can't see the smile, I can hold a reasonably adult conversation with him.
"About two years ago, my best friend and his girl had some bad shit going on. She was about eight or so months pregnant with their first son when a man who had been stalking her was able to get through me. Because of that, they almost lost everything that they had finally found together. I will always, until the day I die, regret that I allowed that to almost happen."
I had almost forgotten I asked him a question, and his words didn't make sense at first. Unsure what to say or how to proceed without him closing me off again, I lift up and look at him. The smile is long gone from his mouth now and in its place are grim lines that prove just how much of a regret that memory is. Sensing there is more to the story than what little he's said, I proceed with caution, making sure to choose my words wisely.
"Tell me what happened, Chance."
His head turns away from me and I follow his gaze toward the bright sky beyond my windows.
"A lot of the attack I don't remember. I know what happened leading up to it, and what Dani and I were doing, but the rest is just what I've been told. We were helping them move Cohen's stuff out of our apartment. Her brother and another friend of ours were dealing with moving Cohen's monster TV outside, and I was helping Dani inside. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital with a knife wound to my shoulder and the worst fucking headache from my concussion. All I could remember was that Dani needed the packaging tape. Of all things, that's what I focused on. Cohen's girl, though, she's a fighter, but if just the slightest second had been different, she might not be here. Cohen would have lost her and their son, and it would have been all on me."
My head ticks to the side, and I feel my brows pull in. "Tell me what you could have done differently, having been attacked yourself from behind with no chance to protect yourself." I didn't mean to sound so harsh, but knowing that he blamed himself for something I have a feeling he had no control over kills me. "Were you the only one who was in charge of keeping her safe that day? Where were your other friend and her brother? Obviously, the attacker was able to get past them too. Do the other two
people who were with you--who weren't able to prevent this--blame themselves too?"
"I was the only one in the room with her, Wren. I might not have been the only one in charge of her, but I was the only one there to make sure of it. Liam and Nate couldn't have done shit since they were in the parking lot. The sick fuck came from the floor above us."
I shift, sitting up and climb on his lap to straddle his hips, one leg on each side of his hips. I ignore the feeling of his thickness against my well-loved pussy. Now is definitely not the time to get distracted.
"Let me get this straight. You were moving things in and out, right?" He nods. "Two of the other men weren't around, so my guess is they didn't make sure they locked up when they went out--something you would have expected of them--meaning they played a part in giving someone easy access. Either way, someone blindly ambushed you. Shit happens, Chance. I'm not trying to say it doesn't suck that shit happened to good friends of yours, but you can't control every aspect of your life. Is it harder when it happens to people who you care about, damn right, but no matter what, shit will always happen. You just have to focus on the positive--that being that you're alive, she's alive, and her son is alive. The other people who were with you could have been in that room too, and that person could have attacked you all--hurting you all. Don't beat yourself up over something you didn't even have a chance to prevent."
"You do realize that you're telling the man in charge of your protection that I shouldn't beat myself up over failing to protect someone." The harsh lines of his scowl ease from his face, and I let out a breath of relief.
"We are never guaranteed a second in life, Chance. In the time I've known you, I've seen you put nothing but your all into everything you do to keep us safe. You're alert to your surroundings, prepared for things in advance, and ready for the unexpected. All you can do is give yourself the best chance to succeed in all that you do. When it comes down to it, I know you'll give your all to me, and the rest will happen as it's meant to."
"You really believe that, don't you," he asks in awe, my words hopefully hitting the spot.
"I do. I really do. And I hope you can too."
"For years, they've been telling me that I wasn't to blame, but all it takes is my not wife to lay it out straight for me, and shockingly, I actually feel like what you said might be true. God, woman, what kind of witchcraft do you have inside that tempting little body?"