Beware Falling Rocks

by Tymber Dalton

  He owed her two years of orgasms.

  I’d best get started.

  She still kept herself shaved, too. As he settled between her thighs and his tongue flicked against her clit, she let out a soft moan. Reaching up, he laced fingers with her, pinning her hands as he started in earnest. Sucking, licking, he buried his tongue in her pussy and traced every sweet fold until the first orgasm swept through her. Her hands squeezed his, hard, as her back arched and she rocked her hips in time with his mouth.

  Nowhere close to being done with her, he pressed his face hard against her mound and sucked on her sensitive clit, forcing a squeal out of her that almost immediately turned into another moan of pleasure. Now she was trying to squirm away from him.

  He didn’t let her.

  Unless she safeworded, he was going to keep making her come until he was sure her body couldn’t give him any more.

  And even then he might try to get one more out of her.

  Once she’d rested after that, he’d do it to her again.

  And again.

  For now, he eased up just enough to let her catch her breath, swirling his tongue around her swollen clit to let her body come down a little. When she stopped trying to squirm away from him and resumed trying to rock her hips against his mouth, that’s when he stepped it up again.

  She finally called yellow about an hour into it. There was a satisfyingly large wet spot on the bed under her as he crawled up next to her, cuddling her against him.

  “Better, pet?”

  She nodded. “Better, Sir.” She reached down to play with his cock, which, while firm, wasn’t completely hard. He’d been fixated on her pleasure, not his own.

  Under her fingers, his shaft quickly swelled, hard, throbbing.

  Tipping her face up to his, she kissed him, not even hesitating at the taste of her own juices all over him.

  Another difference. Sarah had always barely tolerated him going down on her, and she wanted nothing to do with him kissing her until he’d washed his face.

  He rolled on top of her as she guided his cock into her, spreading her legs and wrapping them around him. Lacing fingers with her again, he pinned her hands over her head as her body rocked against his.

  “Love you, pet,” he whispered. “Love you so damn much, and I’m not letting you go.”

  Even with her puffy nose and red eyes, she still looked beautiful.

  Especially when she smiled up at him. “Love you, too, Sir.”

  He kissed her, hard, speeding up his strokes and now barely able to hold back. As he exploded inside her, she moaned with him, her swallowing his satisfied groan as his balls emptied inside her.

  Eyes falling closed, he rested his forehead against hers, not moving.

  Perfection.

  Heaven.

  Peace.

  Even in the best of times with Sarah, he’d never felt the serenity he did when he was with Lynn.

  Not just in bed, either, but all the time. Like his soul had found its niche.

  He rolled onto his side with his arms wrapped around her. “Another nap and shower, and then dinner,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She sounded sated.

  Subspacey.

  Happy.

  I can only hope I can make her happy.

  He’d damn sure spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy, if she’d let him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  From the dim light struggling to make it around the room’s curtains, Lynn knew it had to be close to dusk. She untangled herself from Paul, but he caught her hand and pulled her back.

  “Where are you going?” he asked after kissing her.

  “Bathroom, and to check my phone. If Terrie tried to call or text me and didn’t get me, she might come looking for me.”

  “Ah. Hurry back.”

  Her face felt swollen, tight from crying, a sensation she’d grown far too used to over the past two years. After using the bathroom and washing her hands and face, she checked her phone.

  No calls or texts.

  She sent Terrie a quick text to proactively check in. Going to grab dinner, write for a while, and get some sleep. Hope you’re having fun.

  Terrie replied a few seconds later. Have fun and be safe. Mark says hi.

  Hi back.

  Hopefully, that meant no interruptions for the rest of the evening.

  She sat and stared down at Paul. She knew she should tell him about the boom, but she couldn’t make herself do it yet.

  She had to be sure.

  Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t bullshitting her.

  At least, that’s what she wanted to believe.

  “Terrie admitted after you left the other day that she had looked online and found where you’d filed for divorce.”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No. She was afraid to.” She studied her phone. “She said she wanted to see what would happen first before she did.”

  He sat up and reached out, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “She wasn’t sure if I’d go through with it.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yeah.” She felt her heart trying to pound again. “I thought you swore you’d never file for divorce.”

  “I did. And I meant it. But she stopped fulfilling her promises to me, and then we had a blow up at her therapist’s office. The next day, she moved my things into the guest room. Gave me the silent treatment from that point on. I think she was waiting for me to try to pull her back, to chase after her, but I wasn’t. I knew she wouldn’t file for divorce, and I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life living like that. So I finally filed.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Another promise broken.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How can I trust you not to break promises to me?”

  He needed a moment to put his answer together. “I can’t go back and make different choices. Had I left her then and something happened, I would have spent the rest of my life blaming myself. I’ll spend the rest of my life hating myself for what you’ve been through. No matter what I did, someone would lose. I thought I could help her manage her issues. I thought I knew better. I was wrong.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I know. I would hope that, based on the years we had together, and knowing me the way that you did, you would understand that once I make a decision, I do my damnedest to follow through. If she hadn’t moved me out of our bedroom and given me the silent treatment, I probably would have kept trying a while longer.”

  “What happens when she finds out about us and comes back?”

  He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it. “I’m not going back to her. And I can’t make plans on a hypothetical that hasn’t happened. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. You tell me what I need to do to earn your trust, and I’ll do it.”

  Part of her implicitly trusted him. Knew he was telling the truth. To the best of her knowledge, he’d never lied to her. Ever. Even Sarah had finally admitted in their final showdown that, yes, Paul’s version of events about everything she’d bitched to Lynn about had been correct.

  It wasn’t long after that admission—and half-assed apology for her phone call to Lynn where she’d trashed Paul—before Sarah had pulled their permissions.

  “I think one of the things that hurt the most was that you hadn’t told her about how you’d collared me,” she finally said. “She acted like she knew more about that night than I did when I was the one there and she wasn’t.”

  He slowly nodded. “I know. I hadn’t told her all the specific details at that point, and she made assumptions I didn’t challenge at the time.”

  “Why not? Then I came out looking like the crazy one!”

  “Because I was trying to manage how she got the information in a way that wouldn’t trigger her worse.”

  “And what did we all tell you?”

  He sighed. “That I should have told her everything at once. An
d you all were right. The therapist even told me that later.”

  “Why didn’t you listen to us?”

  “Because I was scared to lose my marriage and my wife’s life. I didn’t want to lose you, but I thought you were stronger than her. I admit it—I was wrong. I was wrong all the way around. I’m not perfect. I never claimed to be.”

  She studied him for another long moment, still not pulling her hand from his. “I never cared if you were perfect or not,” she softly said. “I just wanted you the way you were.”

  “I know.”

  “I never tried to change you.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t pretend to be someone I wasn’t and hide a shit-ton of stuff from you. I laid myself bare to you in the beginning for that very reason because I trusted you and I didn’t want you thinking I was some emotional train-wreck down the line.”

  He nodded. “I know.” He reached over and traced one of the scars on her upper thigh.

  One that hadn’t been there when he’d last seen her.

  From his expression as much as his sad sigh, she knew he realized what she’d been doing to cope.

  She hadn’t made any new ones in a couple of months, progress in that way, at least.

  “I wanted you to hate me,” he softly said. “I prayed you’d hate me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I hoped you’d hate me and move on and be happy.”

  “Yeah, well, that didn’t happen.”

  His eyes finally met hers. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment until she finally couldn’t take it any longer and her gaze dropped to her lap again.

  He’d always had that power with her, for her to lay her emotions bare to him, coax fragility from her she’d never allowed with anyone before.

  * * * *

  In this light, able to see what she’d done to cope, he hated himself even more. When they’d been together, she’d never needed to cut. Had promised him she wouldn’t cut anymore.

  He wasn’t even sure if Terrie knew about that part of her.

  He’d never told anyone. She’d begged him never to tell anyone.

  “Why don’t we find a pizza place that will deliver?” he suggested. “I’d rather stay here with you and talk without worrying about people watching or listening.”

  She nodded.

  He fired up his laptop and put an order in online. He donned a pair of shorts, but when he looked around for the T-shirt he’d worn the evening before up to the hotel in Clearwater, he couldn’t find it.

  He turned to see Lynn had already taken it and pulled it on. This had been an old game with them. He’d take something off, and unless it was particularly dirty, she’d steal it from him and put it on, wanting his scent on her.

  “I missed that game, pet,” he said.

  “I still have a couple of your undershirts.”

  “I figured.”

  She walked over, unable to meet his gaze. “Give me a heads-up if you can’t do this.”

  Cradling her chin, he made her look at him. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, but you say that now and—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, one hand fisting her hair, the other dropping down to hold her ass, pulling her body tightly against his. “Never leaving you,” he repeated. He released her hair and hooked a finger around her collar, gently tugging on it. “Especially since you never stopped being mine in my heart, too.”

  She pulled out her laptop to do a little work while they waited. Once the pizza arrived and he signed for it, they put out the do not disturb sign, locked themselves in, and they both stripped.

  They ate in silence, only the TV providing background noise. But it was a comfortable silence, much like the countless ones they’d shared over their years together.

  When they finished, he stretched out on the bed and patted the spot next to him. Part of him wanted to unleash that long-dormant dark side on her now, flip her over, spank her ass, hard, for going back to cutting.

  Yet she’d survived, so he couldn’t fault her for doing what she’d needed to do to get through it.

  Especially when he hadn’t been there for her.

  Part of him was afraid to drop back into that deliciously familiar old habit for fear of scaring her, of driving her away, never to return.

  Fear had ruled the last two years of his life.

  It wouldn’t be an easy habit to drop.

  She stretched out next to him on the bed, staring up at him.

  Tenderly, he kissed her, tasting and exploring, wanting to take his time. Needing to be sure she really wanted him.

  Not wanting to do anything he couldn’t undo.

  No more fuck-ups.

  He’d rested one hand on her stomach, but she grabbed it and pulled it up, over her left breast. He cupped it, bending his mouth to suck her nipple and his cock hardening when she softly moaned.

  This had always been perfect between them, nothing forced, nothing hesitant. It was like their bodies as well as their souls had called out to each other, knowing what the other needed.

  Below him, her breath started coming fast, shallow, needy gasps as he grazed his teeth across her sensitive nipple. She pulled his hand down, between her legs, pressing his fingers to her clit. She was still a little swollen from their earlier session, sensitive to his lightest touch.

  Sliding two fingers inside her, he slowly finger-fucked her slick pussy, enjoying the way she moaned. Her hands grasped his head, coaxing him to her other breast, fingers tugging at his hair.

  Yet there was still a tentative feel to it all. From him, he knew, and from her, too. They’d have to work their way back to where they’d been. In the beginning, it’d taken them months just to work up to sexual play and more months before they’d started being sexual together.

  He wouldn’t rush this, either. He longed to feel her ass grow hot under his hand as he spanked her and marked her flesh, the way she’d squirm and grow hotter, wetter for him.

  Two years.

  His dark side could wait a little while longer, until he was sure she was ready for that again.

  That he wouldn’t accidentally drive her away by moving too fast.

  Meanwhile, he’d spend their time together making things up to her in one way, at least.

  He worked back and forth, taking his time, building her body up to a slow simmer until she was begging him to fuck her. Then the fun really began. He teased her without bringing her over until, finally, she pushed him off her, onto his back, and climbed on top of him.

  There was a slightly wild look on her face, not quite her full-on feral headspace where they’d struggle and fight and leave pretty good marks on each other before fucking themselves into exhaustion, but close. He didn’t fight her when she impaled herself on his hard cock and started riding him.

  With her hair messy and free, she resembled a wild creature, beautiful, untamed.

  His pet.

  His alone.

  He held on to her hips, meeting her thrusts and slowing them, setting the pace for her. “My lead, pet,” he warned.

  She braced her hands on his chest, her eyes closed, head back as she tried to grind her hips against his.

  So perfect, so good. He held himself back, waiting, knowing if he could find the right angle she could ride herself into an orgasm. Another perfection between them they’d shared.

  He let go of her right hip and reached between her legs to find her clit.

  That was all she needed to explode, a low, guttural moan escaping her as she sped up. He finally quit holding back and joined her, grabbing her hip again and slamming up into her, finally holding still as the last echoes of his climax rolled through him.

  She slumped onto his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly, never wanting to let go.

  “Good girl,” he whispered, one hand sliding down her back, not even needing to see where her tat was, the triple yin-yang symbol, a triquetra variation. He knew by feel the
slight dimple in the hollow of her back where it lay. Whenever he’d fucked her from behind, he used to trace it with his fingers, something incredibly erotic about that spot on her, even before she’d gotten the tat. For her, but she’d asked for his approval, his permission.

  Eventually, he’d wanted to get a matching one on his upper left arm.

  But…life happened.

  Sarah’s breakdown happened.

  Shit happened.

  She shuddered in his arms one last time before falling still, her breathing slowing and deepening, growing more even.

  Sound asleep.

  Closing his eyes, he didn’t try to move her, didn’t want to move her.

  In the space of twenty-four hours, he’d gone from wondering what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life to knowing exactly how he wanted to spend it.

  No way would he break this magic spell.

  Not a chance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  At some point during the night, Lynn realized she lay cuddled next to Paul. The bedside light was still on, and a cheesy infomercial for some sort of paint sealant played on TV. A guy was sitting in a rowboat with a screen door for the bottom.

  She got up to use the bathroom and then turned the light off before snuggling back next to him. She found a news channel and turned the volume down some.

  When she checked her phone, she saw an e-mail alert from her bank, and she had to stifle the joyful shout that wanted to escape her.

  We have boom.

  She set her phone down and returned to bed.

  “You escaped,” he sleepily mumbled, rolling onto his side to cuddle her.

  “I came back. I’ll always come back, Sir.”

  In the dim glow from the TV, she watched his eyes open. Next thing she knew, she was on her back, his cock easily sliding into her, her kissing him, clinging to him, rocking her hips in time with him…

  So many nights she’d dreamed of this. Exactly this. A dream, a memory, a desperate wish.

  He pressed his lips against her ear. “Come for me, pet.”

  She was already close, his body hitting her just right, her sensitive clit rubbing against him with every thrust. Tipping her hips, she found a different angle that gave her exactly the perfect sensation she needed. His cock plowed her pussy as she moaned, head thrown back against the pillow, giving it all to him.