by James, Marie
“Charity,” she murmurs close to the door, “I think I’m going to head to a movie with Blaze.”
Charity answers almost immediately, going from the spiteful lunatic she was a few minutes ago to the carefree roommate Fallyn knows her to be. “Okay! You guys have a good time!”
Fallyn turns back toward me and slips into her bedroom before I can offer to help her get dressed. Thirty minutes later, she’s back in the living room. “I’m so sorry that took so long! It takes forever to get all this hair dry, and I don’t want to get sick. Beginning of the semes—”
I kiss her forehead to stop her rambling. “I’d wait a thousand years for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Romeo. Tone it down,” she admonishes as she shrugs on her jacket.
I don’t chuckle like I normally would after being called out on saying something cheesy.
“I brought you flowers,” I say, pointing to the small vase now on her kitchen counter. “I wasn’t snooping, but I was right assuming you had a vase under your sink.”
“I take back the Romeo jibe.” Innate to her female disposition, she walks over to the flowers and sticks her nose in them. “They’re beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful. The flowers are pretty.”
When she takes my hand before we even leave the apartment complex, I know it’s because I meant the words I said.
***
Twenty minutes later, we’re settling into seats in the far top corner of the theater.
“I didn’t take you for the fairy tale type,” she whispers as the movie begins.
I lean my head in closer to hers. “It’s an amazing love story about a man who’s made bad decisions in life and a woman who’s willing to see past all that to the man he wants to be.”
Her eyes soften and she nods, adding, “It’s about a man willing to overcome the stereotypes he’s been saddled with to be the man the woman can love—one she can be proud to call hers.”
I swallow thickly, hopefully reading her words the way she intends them.
I can be that man for her. I want to be that man for her.
“Are you my Beauty?” I ask.
She bites the corner of her bottom lip. “Are you my Beast?”
I grin and lower my mouth to hers. If I were an outsider looking in, I know I’d consider this one of the corniest fucking things in the world, but for us, right now, it’s perfection.
We spend the next two hours with wandering hands and greedy mouths. The groping and touching carries over outside the theater into my truck. People mill around, heading in to watch a movie and chattering away, but we ignore it all, steaming up the windows. Neither of us take it any further than that, though. She doesn’t make a move to unbutton my jeans, so I don’t make an attempt either.
I’m no saint though, and resisting her perfect tits isn’t a possibility for me.
“There are people out there,” she chastises as I lift her shirt and wrap my lips around her puckered nipple. “Oh God.”
Her groan and capitulation throbs in my pants. Trembling fingers grip my hair as my teeth rake over her flesh.
Mild pain hits my scalp at the base of my neck and I hum against her, loving the rough way she’s handling me. She’ll be more explosive than dynamite once I get between her legs—I have no doubt about that. I suck harder, alternating between rolling my tongue around her nipple and flicking the tip of it.
“Blaze,” she says, but her tone is off. “Blaze!”
Realizing the pain in my head wasn’t from her enthusiastic response to the moment, but her way to get my attention, I raise my head, ready to apologize for whatever violation I may have committed. My brow furrows as she pushes against my chest, urging me away as she reaches into her jacket pocket to retrieve her ringing phone.
It goes silent before she can answer it.
“It’s Charity,” she grumbles.
I shift my weight until I’m back on my side of the truck, watching as she dials her number. “Has to be important. She called twice in a row before I could get you to pull away.”
“Sorry,” I apologize, never hearing it ring.
“I’m not,” she says with a wink before turning her attention to her friend’s voice in her ear.
I trace odd shapes on the foggy window, fighting the need to reach down and palm my cock.
When she says, “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I know my evening will end with my hands rather than hers.
I press the defrost button on the dash and wait for her to give me the bad news.
“Charity’s at your house,” she says as she tugs her seatbelt across her chest. “She needs a ride home.”
I nod and put the truck in drive.
“If there’s a party at your house tonight, why did you show up at mine?” Curiosity marks her tone, as if my choice to be here with her is unfathomable. Without waiting for me to answer, her eyes focus out her window.
“I told you. That’s where you were.”
She grins and takes my hand in hers as we make our way out of the parking lot and across town to the house I share with several teammates.
“You don’t mind taking us home?” she asks as we pull onto the street in front of the house.
I want to tell her I don’t mind if Charity rides in the bed of the truck, but I know that won’t be received well.
“I don’t,” I confirm, tugging her arm so she’s against my chest. “Or you both could just stay. You in my bed when I wake up would be amazing.”
She pushes back, patting my chest. “Not going to happen, Quarterback. Charity went over there and got belligerent with one of your teammates. Something about him gossiping about private shit. From what I got from her, she’s not exactly welcome in there right now.”
Karma is one twisted, evil, conniving bitch. I open my mouth in anger and this is where it gets me—alone in my bed with only my fist to fuck.
We exit the truck and find Charity sitting on the front porch, one of the freshman football players guarding the door like she’s a threat to national security and the house contains the codes for war nukes.
She glares at me, but doesn’t say a word. The ride back across town to their apartment is spent in silence, but Fallyn is tucked into my side, so everything is right in my world.
When we get to the apartment, she declines my offer to walk her to her door. I kiss her lips without expectation and promise we’ll go out again to actually watch the movie next time.
It’s the first time I lie to Fallyn McIntyre.
Chapter 9
Fallyn
“Two weeks,” I whisper as Blaze’s mouth trails hot kisses down my neck.
“The beginning of a lifetime,” he breathes into my ear.
“We have spent almost every spare second together, Blaze, which is saying a lot since we aren’t even taking the same classes. You’ve got to be getting tired of me by now.” I’ve wondered for a while why he chooses to spend quiet evenings with me studying and finishing assignments when he could be hanging out with friends and partying the school down.
“Not a chance,” he corrects. “I’m thinking of changing majors just so I can hold your hand in class, smell your amazing body. I crave your nearness.”
It’s impossible, but the sentiment is sweet.
I’m so wrapped up in him, exactly where I told myself I didn’t want to be—emotionally dependent on a man who’s assured to leave me broken. It may happen. I’m cognizant of the possibility, but it doesn’t stop me from craving him and ultimately giving into the need I have for his attention and touch.
“Charity’s gone for the night,” I confess, hoping he takes the hint.
His massive hand palms my stomach, so large, it covers almost the entire width from hip to hip. I tug at the soft fabric of his t-shirt on his back. Easing away briefly, he allows me to pull it free from his body. Absolute perfection. Sculpted muscles obtained only from an extreme workout regimen and clean eating. Giving into the tingle in my hands, I run them over his shoulders
and down the expanse of his abdomen. He stops my hands as they reach for the button of his jeans.
“Now is not the time to be chivalrous,” I complain.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s not chivalry, believe that. If you get your hands on me before I take care of you, I’ll embarrass myself.”
I grin at his admission. “They have medicine for that, you know?”
His brow furrows. “For what?”
“Your premature ejaculation problem.” I smile sweetly up at him.
“I don’t—” he begins, but stops himself. “My only problem is how much you’ve been teasing me over the last couple weeks.”
His lips find mine, and I should just go with it, but the playful accusation that I’m a cock tease rubs me the wrong way.
I stop his hands as they reach for the front clasp of my bra. “I’m not a tease, Blaze. If memory serves correctly, you’ve put on the brakes more times than I have. Just yesterday you—”
His finger brushes my lips, halting my words. “It was a joke. I’m well aware of how the last couple weeks have played out.”
His warm mouth finds my neck again, but the flashes of high school and asshole guys manipulating my already low self-esteem by accusing me of the same exact things are in the forefront of my mind.
Blaze pulls his mouth from my skin, looking down at me. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m right here,” I say, distracted by thoughts of the past.
He shakes his head. “You’re not. You’re a million miles away. We don’t have to.”
I clutch him closer when he tries to pull away, alarm ringing in my ears at the potential loss. We’ve discussed a lot of my past, but I’ve avoided telling him about the most shameful things. We’ve both done things we’re not proud of and bringing those dark memories into the light of our relationship won’t serve any type of positive purpose.
As if he can read my hesitant thoughts, he shifts his weight to my side. “Our histories, the ghosts of our pasts, the judgement others have placed on us, have no room in this moment. It’s only you and me here, Fallyn, but we can stop if you don’t want to take this further tonight.”
His stiff cock jumps in his jeans against my thigh, as if begging me not to forget about him.
“I want to,” I confess.
“Only if you’re sure.” This is not the man I thought I was getting a few weeks ago. His hands pick up where they left off and the clasp of my bra flicks open, the relief in my breasts immediate as the lace falls away.
“Wait,” I say, noticing the flush in his cheeks as he stares down at my exposed skin. “Are you nervous?”
“What? No.” His gaze softens and his weight settles over me just a fraction more. The contact of his hot skin against the tips of my breasts is exquisite. “This is important to me, Fallyn. You’re important to me. This could possibly be our last first time. I don’t want to fuck it up, or rush it.”
Warmth flows through me at his passion-filled words. Damn, where did this side of him come from? He’s not saying it to get into my pants. I’m all but begging for it—a sure thing, if you will. I check his bright blue eyes, searching for any hint of deception. Two weeks, and I’m already so deep in this, I see nothing but him—us.
“I’m sure you’ll be perfect. I don’t believe those rumors anyway,” I tease, trying to take some of the seriousness out of the situation.
A mischievous smirk crosses his face as he nods, planning his next move. “I see I have something to prove.”
The heaviness of the past couple minutes floats away with my moans as his mouth lowers to my exposed breast. He glides lower and lower, until deft fingers work the button and zipper of my jeans open and tug them from my body, leaving me exposed to his eyes.
“Incredible,” he praises as his fingers gently spread me open.
A coarse shiver runs over my body, half in sensual arousal and half in nervous embarrassment.
The unease of being spread open and catalogued by him fades away, replaced with a need so fierce, it burns with the flame of a thousand fires.
The first velvet lash of his tongue forces my hips off the bed, a silent petition for more. He obliges, the room filling with only the soft pants escaping my mouth and his gracious moaning against my heated, sensitive flesh.
I find a half second to chastise myself for putting the brakes on this situation up until now before bliss takes over and the only thing that exists is his mouth on me and his thick fingers inside me.
Quivering hands find the back of his head, urging him to go harder, deeper, commanding him to turn his reverence over my body into a mind-blowing release.
Stiffening his tongue, he obliges, impeccably so.
He works me through the blinding orgasm, stroking furiously in and out of me with his fingers. The caress of his touch skates over the swollen, sensitive flesh as his lips and gripping suction pulls on my clit.
“Goddamn, Fallyn,” he says, lifting his head from me. “I didn’t take you for a screamer.”
The heat of his words creeps up my neck. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for responding exactly how you want to.” His tongue dips into my belly button on his way up to my breasts. “Your moans make my cock harder than it’s ever been.”
His confession renews the waning desire drained by the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had. Pushing on his chest, I force him to roll onto his back and straddle him, tossing my open bra to the floor before reaching down for the button on his jeans. His eyelids, heavy with lust, lower, pleading for me to continue.
The tips of my fingers graze his impressive cock as he lifts his hips a few inches off the bed so I can tug his pants down.
The blare of his cell phone ringing startles me and my hands jerk, breaking my contact. A nervous giggle bubbles out of my throat at the sound of death metal bouncing around the room.
His face falls, and for a second, I think he’s upset with me, but his ire is turned to the phone on the bedside table.
“I have to get that,” he says, shifting his hips so I can climb off. “It’s my grandmother.”
That notion makes this even funnier to me and I slap a hand over my mouth. He answers his phone, pressing it to his ear, and I bite my lip to hold in the humor. I can hardly wait for him to hang up so I can give him a hard time for having death metal as his grandmother’s ringtone, but the half of the conversation I can hear and the tension in his now stiffening shoulders cuts off any whimsy I felt.
“When?” he asks, his voice soft. A few seconds later, “Days?”
His voice cracks with emotion, and an insidious wave of unease washes over me. The urge to reach out to him hits hard, but the scrunch of his brow forces me to take pause. I feel inadequate at this moment, not knowing how he needs to be comforted, what my role in this situation should be. Grabbing my t-shirt from the floor, I force it over my head before handing him his.
He speaks for another minute, refusing to meet my eyes when he stands from the bed. He tugs his shirt on, slips on his boots, and pockets his phone, never looking in my direction. My heart pounds in my ears when I finally reach for him and he slides out of my grasp.
“I have to go,” he grunts before walking out, leaving me trembling in my room without so much as an explanation of what the call was about or an assurance of when I’ll see him again.
Tears sting my eyes at the sight of his retreating back. If this was a test, I failed miserably.
Chapter 10
Blaze
“This isn’t your responsibility,” my grandmother chastises as we walk through the funeral home. “I told you as much on the phone.”
I stop before reaching the door to the director’s office, niceties and placations for this woman now a thing of the past. Turning to face her, I do something I never thought I’d be brave enough to do in my life. For the first time, I stand up to my grandmother. “This is more my job than yours.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Thomas.” Her w
ords are fierce, but the way she raises and clutches her ancient purse higher on her chest shows her intimidation.
“Blaze,” I spit out. “My name is Blaze.”
Her calling me by my middle name my entire life is another thing I’ve hated but never had the balls to voice.
“I hate your first name,” she mutters.
“And I hate my father’s, so don’t call me it again.”
She takes a step back, but manages to find some strength, refusing to leave her overpowering, dominating ways too far behind. “You need Jesus, young man. For years, I told your mother her choice to leave the church would be the downfall of this whole family.”
I take a calming breath, but it only assists in angering me more. “Jesus? The Church?” I seethe. “Where is your God now! Where was the church when my mother lay in her own vomit, shit, and piss for four days before someone found her fucking body?”
“Where were you?” she taunts. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your mother?”
Disgrace weighs heavy on my conscience. The dark clouds from my past open, pouring years of neglect at my feet, thrashing at my soul. I made excuses each time the thought of visiting my mother came to mind, but the way I was raised and things I suffered through in my earlier years placates the shittiness I feel at knowing my mother died alone.
I haven’t spoken to her since right after the season began. I went to her, overcome with glee that we had such a strong team, elated to tell her about the opportunities I was creating for us, but she was indifferent to my arrival, more concerned about her own life than celebrating the strides I made.
“You left her,” she continues.
I stumble back from her words, feeling like the little boy I said I’d never be again. “Sh-She told me to,” I stammer. “She was getting clean. Told me I only dragged her down. She said being responsible for a grown man’s feelings was too much stress for her recovery. She asked me not to come back.”