I close my eyes, my body melting around his. I can feel him stiffen behind me and he doesn't move, and I know he's been waiting for this moment as long as I have, and longer. I try to roll my hips and almost lose my balance, but he has a good hold on me. He moans as I fumble, trying to get him to move.
“Fuck me, baby,” he growls, and the sound practically knocks me on my ass. We both slam into each other, our bodies banging out a primitive rhythm. Every inch of his evil cock fills me up, over and over again. He thrusts a third finger inside my tightness and I finally let him have it.
I scream, loud. The sound echoes off the trees and my throat feels jagged, ripped out. He grips my hip as he fucks me harder and harder. I know I did well, because he's become unhinged. I can feel how turned on he is. I can feel him swell inside me and stretch me. I'm on the edge of losing my mind too, and I don't care.
“You like how I do it, don't you?” he asks, breathless.
“Yes,” I moan, wondering why I ever bothered with anyone else. No one else ever made me feel the way Elliot does, for better or worse. Ever since the night in the motel room, he's haunted me. I've dreamt of him. I've done things I never thought I would do. We've both been stupid. We've both been destructive and violent and bad. But all of that is past. In the here and now, it's all us.
Us.
I'll figure all the rest of it out later.
“I wish I had two cocks to fuck you properly,” he says, his fingers stilling inside of my ass, and I arch my back, the pain-pleasure hitting me in the stomach. I'm so close to coming, I just need more.
“Harder,” I gasp. “Fuck me harder.” He takes his hand away from my hip, and smacks me hard on the ass. The sting vibrates down my legs and I teeter, almost losing my balance. I cry out as he grabs me again, steadying me as the rope cuts into my wrists.
“You take what I give you,” he says, his voice strained like his jaw is clenched.
“Then give it to me,” I whisper, taunting him.
“Ungrateful,” he hisses, but I can hear the uptick in his voice. I realize he likes it when I'm feisty. That makes me smile, but I hide it from him, letting the curtain of my hair fall in front of my face. “I'm gonna wipe that smile off your face, Joanie,” he says, bucking his hips and plunging his fingers deep. That only makes me smile more, and I can't help it. He loops his arm around my waist, bending over me. His chest brushes against my back, and all my nerves fire off at once. I love the way his skin feels against mine. I clench myself around him and dig my ankles in. I'm ready and so is he. He growls in my ear as he speeds up his pace. I'm trying hard to hold on when all I want to do is let go.
He swerves his hips and it feels incredible, like all of my dreams have come true in that moment. I'm about to break and then he thrusts his fingers in and out. His fingers and his cock work in harmony in a beautiful way. My body pulses around him and I'm done for. I hear a strangled cry and I know it's me. I lose control of myself, jerking and tightening and throbbing as my orgasm rushes through me like a hurricane. I feel swept up, my head spinning and my mouth gaping open. I want him to fill me up, every hole. I want him in my mouth, in my pussy, in my ass. I want him all over and everywhere.
I want everything.
For as long as I can have it.
He pulls out of me and my whole body clenches. I scream in frustration, wanting him back but he doesn't listen. He lets out a jagged cry and I feel his climax spurting on my back. His orgasm goes on and on and he covers me with his come. I can feel it dripping down my ribs and I shiver in unabashed delight. Then he plunges his cock back into me, ready for a second helping.
He's insatiable.
He fucks me for what feels like hours, until my wrists are raw and bleeding and my legs give out. I take my punishment with a smile on my face because I know I've earned it. It makes me proud to know that I've given him almost as much pain as he's given me.
We're almost even.
Almost.
Chapter Twenty-one
We change out of our mud-covered clothes and then we get back on the road and drive for hours. I play the hard rock station and he smiles like he's surprised at the music I like. We stop at a little gas station on the border of Kansas and Colorado. I pull up to the pump and we both get out. I pay in cash and Elliot heads to the small bathroom around back. I switch out the license plates and we wash up as best as we can in the little sink, fill up our tank, and get back on the road.
We reach Denver a day later than I planned. We're both dead tired; I can barely keep my eyes open. It's dark and I drive around until I find a decent sized hotel with a pool and a big parking lot. I pull around back and park by a big dumpster that partially obscures the car. I feel Elliot's eyes on me and I glance his way. He's wondering what we're doing. He's wondering if it's smart. And he's wondering why I'm not asking him what he thinks we should do.
“Trust me,” I say. He puts a ball cap on and pulls it low on his forehead as I park. “Stay here. I'll be back,” I tell him and I turn off the car and open the door. I pause for a moment, considering whether to take the keys with me. The pause doesn't escape his notice and he stares at me, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. “Hand me my purse,” I say. He doesn't move a muscle. “Please,” I add, cocking an eyebrow. A moment passes and then he reaches down between his legs and pulls up my leather bag. I take it from him, my breath catching in my throat as he leans closer. “I'll be back,” I repeat.
“I'll be waiting,” he says as I step out of the car. I freeze as I feel his fingers drag up my thigh. I shiver as he hits the sensitive spot under my ass. A slow smile spreads across my face. His touch promises bad things, dirty things. Fucking him in a big, clean bed until we both pass out sounds like heaven to me right about then. I shut the door behind me and hurry toward the entrance. I glance around me, even though there's no one around to take notice. There's a enough cars parked around that I know my little Ford will go unnoticed. A man in a worn cowboy hat is smoking by the door and I nod in his direction. To be unfriendly would be more noticeable, I reckon, even in a big city like Denver. I step into the bright, air-conditioned lobby with an easy smile on my face.
“Hello,” the barely-out-of-her-teens girl at the desk says, and I widen my smile to match hers. “How are you tonight?”
“Just peachy, thanks.” I pull out my credit card, secure in the knowledge that everybody I know thinks I'm in Denver for a job interview. I told them I'd be here a day earlier, but I tell myself that doesn't matter. “I need a room for the night.”
“Two doubles or one queen?” she asks, staring down at her computer.
“Doesn't matter. It's just me,” I say, easy breezy. “I guess a queen, if you have it.”
“No problem, ma'am,” she says, and I blink at her calling me ma'am. I must look really old and tired, I muse. I wonder how many years Elliot's taken off my life. I hand her my card and she hands me a key.
Elliot is leaning against the car, arms crossed, when I return.
“How did you pay for the room?” he asks, his voice low.
“With a credit card,” I shrug.
“So they can track you here?”
“Everyone thinks I'm here. This is my alibi. If we hadn't made a little pit stop in Kansas, it would be airtight,” I reply. “Trust me.”
“Last time we got a hotel room, everything went to shit.”
“Yeah, because you had a shitty plan. I have a good plan.” I step closer to him. “Don't fuck with my plan.” The air thickens between us with tension and I wonder if Elliot will listen to me. He doesn't like to lose control. But then again, neither do I.
After a long minute, he snorts out a laugh and all tension fades, just like that.
“Joanie, you got a mouth on you, girl,” he says and I can't help it—I laugh, too.
“Room 237,” I say, stepping around the car to pop the trunk. We get our things and then I head up to the room. Elliot follows, fifteen minutes later. At his low knock, I let him in and then lock the doo
r behind him. The bed beckons, but so does the shower. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it on the bed. I stand back and admire him as he stretches his arms over his head, watching the muscles rippling under his skin.
He turns his head to look at me and I know exactly what he's thinking, because I'm thinking it, too.
“Why don't we put that mouth of yours to work?” he says and unbuckles his belt.
*****
Joanie's sleeping, her face soft and youthful. She lays on her side facing me, her eyes closed. She's relaxed and vulnerable, her fingers curling under her chin and her naked skin bared to my gaze. I study her, wanting to remember her just this way. She lets out a little sigh and I get the urge to kiss her. I run my nose across her shoulder and her fragrant skin is still damp from the shower. She doesn't stir as I trail my teeth down her arm and lightly nip at her. She's knocked out after the workout I gave her in the shower. I had her up against the cool tile walls, slipping and sliding our way to climax. Her breathing is soft and steady, but I can still hear her moaning and whimpering in my ears. This is what I've been waiting for, I realize. The three years I was in prison. The two years I didn't know where she was. So many years apart. I smooth my hand down her waist and over her hip and love for her swells in me.
After all this time, she's finally mine.
That shit in the Kansas was bad, and the blame is totally on me. I knew Lassiter was a crazy motherfucker, but I needed him. I promised him things I never should have promised, but I did what I had to do. She was scared and she was angry, but I know she understands.
Besides, she came prepared.
I glance over at her purse on the nightstand. I know her gun is in there. The gun she surprised me with. The thought that she doesn't trust me makes me want to beat someone's face in, but I get it. She's smart. She knew she would need protection. I'm just pissed at myself that I gave her a reason to use it. I proved her right. I know I have to stop fucking up. I owe it to her to be better. I drop my mouth to her hip and kiss her on the bone. I wrap my arms around her waist and hug her to me, desperation welling up alongside the love.
I've waited for years to touch her. I've waited for years to be her man. I press my ear to her chest and listen to her heartbeat. I don't know what I'll do on the outside. I don't know what my life will be. I don't know how long until the cops catch up with me. But all the shit is worth it. As I lay there with my body against hers, I know that anything that happens to me in the future will be worth it.
I push her onto her back, roughly. She moans at the back of her throat, the sound dripping like honey down my spine. I suck her left nipple into my mouth, rolling the soft bud between my lips. She furrows her brow, her plump lips pressing together in a frown. She looks like she's in pain, but I know different. I release her swollen tip after sucking it hard, my eyes searching her skin for my mark. Sure enough, she's got a small white scar above her pink aureola.
I've branded her. The very first night we were together, I bit her tit, and all these years later, the mark is still there. I scarred her for life and it feels damn good. It won't be the last time, I think with a smile. I rub my rough cheek against her softness, then press a kiss to the valley of her breasts. When I glance up, she's looking at me, her eyes heavy-lidded from sleep.
I don't waste any time. I position myself over her and she opens her legs wide and invites me inside. I take it slow because I'm not in any rush. In fact, if I had one wish, it would be to make this night last forever. Being with her. Making love to her. I don't want it to end. I snake one arm beneath her shoulders and one around her waist, wrapping myself around her tight. She returns the favor, one hand on my ass and the other massaging my scalp as I thrust slow and steady into her.
She kisses me softly, her lips caressing mine. I kiss her right back, my heart damn near beating out of my chest. All I want is to be close to her. I want to crawl under her skin. I want to embed myself in her. A shiver of something warm and all-encompassing runs through me, so foreign that I almost don't know what it is. It takes me a minute to realize that it's happiness.
I'm happy.
I can die now, I realize. In this moment, God could strike me down and I wouldn't give a shit.
This is what she does to me. The love of a good woman can change everything. I know it. I'm proof of it. I smooth her hair off of her neck and dip my head to trail my tongue down the bulge of her vein. I can feel her blood pumping under her skin. I want to taste it. I want to feel it coating my tongue. But I don't bite her there, even though I want to. From now on, my marks on her are going to be private, for my eyes only. I'm done sharing.
She bows her back and drags her fingernails down my neck, leaving a trail of prickly fire in their wake. I take in a sharp breath between my teeth, loving the hint of roughness behind her touch. I don't pick up my pace, although I sense she wants me to do just that.
“Mmm,” she hums as I nip at her neck, harder than I intended to. It's almost impossible to keep myself in check, but I don't want to fuck up and come too fast. She rolls her hips, taking me deeper and deeper. Her muscles tighten and her lips part, and I know she's about to let go. My eyes find hers. I pump into her slow and then fast, my rhythm as jagged as my heartbeat. She writhes, pressing her perfect tits against my chest and digging her fingernails into my back. Neither of us look away as the tidal wave crashes into her and she takes me with her. Both of us cling to each other, desperate and clawing, breathing the same air and feeling the same fucking pleasure. I explode and then collapse into her, fatigue catching up to me with a quickness. She sighs heavily, dropping her head back on the pillow as her body softens beneath me. “How do you do that?” she whispers, pressing her fingers to her lips.
“Do what?” I ask, taking her hand and brushing my lips across her knuckles. She shakes her head, her eyes flitting away and then coming back. “Do what?” I repeat, biting her knuckles lightly.
“Make me come,” she replies after a long moment, with a shy little laugh. “Every time.” I love the sound of her laughter. I've heard it only a few times before, but I love it. I rub my face against hers, my stubble tickling her cheek, and she laughs again, swatting at me.
“I have a magic cock,” I whisper in her ear. I think about all the other men she had when I was locked up, and I feel a wick of anger light in the pit of my stomach. But I know they couldn't satisfy her like I can. I know it deep in my soul.
“It's an evil cock,” she replies through her laughter, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Supremely evil.” I don't disagree with her. I just roll over onto my side, taking her with me. She sidles up next to me and I pull the sheet over us. The last thing I hear as I fall asleep is her laughter in my ears and it feels good.
Damn good.
When I open my eyes, the early morning sunlight cuts across the room. I scrub my hands over my face, forcing myself to wake up. I'm not used to sleeping through the night and it feels strange. I roll over and reach for my girl. My hand slides over the cool sheets and I know immediately.
She's not here.
I sit upright, the familiar black anger already bubbling up in my guts. I sit still and listen—the hotel room is quiet. She's not in the shower or the bathroom. Her bags are still in the room. Her purse sits on the bedside table, in a different position than how she left it last night. I bolt out of bed, my dick swinging between my legs as I grab her purse and throw it on the bed. I root through the bag and my suspicion is proved correct. The gun is gone.
I clench my fists, trying to reign in my anger. I don't know where she is and I don't like it. I hate it. She's left me too many times. I don't like thinking about those times. But the reality is looking me in the face. I'm not going to sit around and let her get further and further away.
I find my jeans and boots and shove them on. I throw the door open, my eyes scouring the parking lot. Her little gray car is still beside the dumpster, where she parked it last night. I don't know why, but it doesn't make me feel any better. She could be anyw
here, with or without the car. I don't know how much of a head start she has on me. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears as I move down the breezeway, my vision slowly turning black. Murderous thoughts fill my brain and I can't stop them. All of my anger management counseling has been for shit, I realize. I want to hurt someone. Anyone.
Then I see her.
She's swimming laps in the the big blue outdoor pool. Her long dark hair streams behind her as she swims, her strokes long and sure. I stop and watch her, grasping the railing so hard the metal cuts into my palms. My eyes follow her every movement and I force myself to relax. She's still here. She didn't leave me. She didn't run. My boiling anger cools to a simmer as she swims, her languid movements calming me. A smile curls over my lips as a devilish thought crosses my mind.
I wonder how I'll punish her.
*****
I feel him watching me before I see him. Breathing hard, I pull myself up on the side of the concrete pool, the water splashing around me. I roll my shoulders as my muscles scream from the exertion. I glance around, feeling his eyes. I see him a second later, leaning against the railing on the second level of the hotel. Even from a distance, I can see he's angry. I push off the wall into a backstroke with a sigh.
I left without waking him because he looked like he needed the sleep. I figured I would be back before he woke. Now, I see my mistake.
I wonder if he knows that I hid the gun.
I still don't completely trust him, truth be told. The thought of leaving him alone with my gun doesn't sit well with me. Not that I think he'll hurt me. I'm more worried about the rest of the world. The last thing we need is him getting any criminal ideas. We're only halfway to Seattle and I don't want any more hiccups in my plan.
I Know What Love Is Page 20