by S. R. Grey
I smack his hand away, albeit in a playful manner, and retort, “These are shorts.” He quirks an eyebrow, and I amend, “Well, kind of.”
Suppressing a grin, he moves aside and says, “Essa, get in here.”
I walk into his room, turn back to him. And then we both bust out laughing. This is why I came to Farren’s room. He has a way of making everything better. The strong foundation we’ve been building may be constructed on the back of a tragedy, but it’s not without moments of levity…like now.
I’m still smiling when Farren steps around me. He stretches across the bed to turn on a lamp. And that’s when my smile falters. With his bare back facing me, and the glow from the just-turned-on lamp brightening the darkness, I’m afforded a perfect view of a long, jagged scar extending across the smooth skin on Farren’s lower back.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and run my fingers along several inches of puckered, silvery-white edges.
Farren spins around, and I pull my hand back swiftly. “I…I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He steps toward me, narrowing the space between us in seconds. He lifts my left hand and snakes it around his side. Placing my fingers right back on the scar, he says softly, “You never have to apologize for touching me, Essa.”
Once again, I trail my fingers along the puckered skin of the scar, whispering, “What happened?”
“Knife fight.”
“You lost?”
“If I’d lost, I would be dead.”
“Is the other guy…?”
“Dead?” Farren finishes my unfinished question. I nod, and he responds, “Yes, I killed him.”
When my hand falls away from his back and I fail to respond, he asks, “Does that bother you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
It’s the truth, it doesn’t bother me. Farren was obviously fighting for his life. And I’m glad he came out the winner. Again, though, I am reminded of how different our lives are. Farren is a warrior. He’s seen and done things I can’t even begin to fathom. But I like his worldliness. Just like I know he likes my innocence. We balance each other in that way, like two sides to a coin.
When I glance up at him, Farren is watching me. “What are you thinking?” he asks.
“Nothing, really.”
His arms slide around me, while my own hands find purchase on his bare shoulders.
“Nothing, really, huh?” he says, smiling a small smile. He lowers his lips to mine and says, “Why do I not believe you?”
I want to tell him what I’m thinking—like how much I’m starting to like him, really like him. I want to tell him that I believe we could be right for one another and how we should give this thing a chance. But how do I say these things? What if it’s too much?
I don’t say a word regarding my thoughts. Instead, I press my lips to his, and murmur against his mouth, “Should I go back to my room?”
His lips move with mine. He kisses me softly, tenderly.
“Do you want to go back?” he questions when he breaks our kiss.
I shake my head as he walks me backward to the bed. “Okay, then,” he remarks, smirking. “Glad that’s settled.”
“Are we going to do more than kiss?” I bravely inquire.
He raises an eyebrow and stops just when the edge of the bed is pressing against the back of my knees. “Do you want to do more than kiss?’
“Yes,” I reply.
And that’s the point where I watch him give in. I’m done fighting this, his expression says. Farren is then all over me…hands, lips…caressing, kissing. Lowering me gently to the bed, he covers me with his hard body.
I squirm beneath him, purposely creating friction between his bare chest and my almost-bared breasts. “More, more, more,” I chant between kisses.
But I don’t get more yet. He stops, flattening his palms on the bed so he can prop himself up over me. With his arms caged around me, his emerald eyes find me. His intensity demands I don’t dare stray from his gaze.
“I plan to take things slowly with you,” he says quietly as he lifts the hem of my T-shirt just an inch.
“Okay.” I nod.
Studying me, his knuckles graze my abdomen, and he asks, “Has anyone ever given you an orgasm, Essa?”
“Um…”
Flattening his warm palm on my skin, he says seductively, “Besides you giving one to yourself, of course.”
I breathe out a raspy, “Besides myself, no.”
His fingers—so gentle, yet so firm—trail up under my tee. When he reaches my breasts, he circles my nipples lightly. Slowly, he cups the weight of one breast, then the other. “Would you like someone to give you one?” he inquires. His breathing quickens along with mine. “Do you want me to make you come, Essa?”
“God, yes,” I whisper.
My heart pounds with anticipation, and my body quivers with lust. Farren lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me again, sweetly and gently. “Relax,” he whispers.
He plies at my nipples, making them erect and ultrasensitive to his touch. “Don’t stop,” I breathe out.
“I don’t plan to,” he assures me.
And upon hearing that, I am grasping at the hem of my tee, lifting and maneuvering to slip out of the lime-green cotton. The only thing on my mind is getting my clothes off as quickly as possible.
Haste, though, is not what Farren has in mind. He stills my hands with my shirt halfway off. I whimper in protest, and he covers my body with his.
Softly, against my lips, he says, “Slow down a little, Essa. There’s no rush. I want you to enjoy everything I’m going to do to you tonight.”
His mouth is so warm on mine—so good—and I want to know what’s coming. “And just what are you planning to do to me?” I ask.
He pulls back so he can look down at me. His emerald eyes sear my already-scorched soul. Doesn’t he know I am putty in his hands? I suppose he does and that’s why he’s keeping things under control.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he tells me with a smug grin.
And then there’s no more talking. We communicate with movements, little nudges, glances, and nods. When he gestures that I should lift my back up off the bed, I do so. He gently slips my tee over my head. I lay back, and his hand slides under my ass, nudging me. I compliantly arch my hips, and he tugs my boy shorts down my legs. When I am left naked before him, he sits up and rocks back on his heels. His eyes move over me, taking me in inch by inch. A delicious shiver moves up my spine. And when I take note of his impressive arousal, barely covered by his boxer briefs, needs stronger than I’ve ever before experienced ignite in me.
I’m not secure with my body, though, so when his eyes continue to soak me in, I feel compelled to say, “I’m not model perfect, Farren.”
Suddenly feeling shy, I place one hand over my heavy breasts and the other hand over my bare pubic area. Are my boobs too big? Should I not have waxed down there? Apart from those nagging thoughts, I begin to wish I had a third hand to cover my not-completely flat tummy.
Farren, though, seems not one bit bothered by any of those things. In fact, he tells me, “I like everything about your body, Essa.”
The look in his eyes backs up his words. His gaze is appreciative, delivered in a distinctly male way—the kind that has the ability to make you feel downright beautiful. And I do feel beautiful. Right now, I feel like I’m the prettiest girl on the planet.
So when Farren nudges my hand away from my breasts, and then moves the hand covering my sex, I don’t resist. He takes another sweeping survey of my uncovered body. This time, it’s like he’s contemplating what to do first to me.
I shiver in anticipation, and he leans down and slowly kisses a heated path from my collarbone to my breasts. “Feel good?” he murmurs.
“Very,” I reply.
He nuzzles and lifts a breast to his mouth, his lips covering the nipple. He sucks and licks and drives me flat-out crazy. He then moves to my other breast and
does the same thing. After a few minutes of this, I am instinctually lifting my hips, seeking release. My movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Farren. His fingers part my folds and glide along my slick core. With his mouth latched on to one breast, and his fingers working me like a finely tuned instrument, my climax builds and builds.
He winds me up till I’m ready to spring, and when he releases my nipple from his mouth and presses a path of wet kisses down to my core, I am at the peak, chanting, “Oh my God, oh my God.”
“Not God, Essa,” Farren says softly, his hot breaths caressing my pubic bone.
No, not God. “Farren,” I correct.
He lowers his head and touches my clit with his tongue, and I explode. “Oh, Farren, Farren,” I moan, writhing and arching.
I go slack, but Farren is not anywhere close to being finished with me. He moves his fingers in and out of me, hitting my sweet spot in just the right way. At the same time, he sucks on my nub, licking and lapping. I’m overwhelmed, and sweet pressure quickly builds again. I suck in a breath, and when Farren presses his tongue to the underside of my clit, waves of pleasure wash over me. I finally understand what all the fuss is about.
Two orgasms in succession, and I find all sense of propriety is lost. I grind my sex right up into Farren’s face. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He hoists my ass up higher and shoves his tongue deep inside of me.
“Gah—oh, fuck, Farren.” Another intense orgasm renders me incoherent.
When I finally come back down to earth, he sits up. I expect this to be the point where he moves up my body and makes me his. After all, I can see how hard he is. His erection now extends beyond the top edge of his boxer briefs. The tip is moist with pre-cum, and for the first time in my life, I long to put a cock in my mouth—Farren’s cock.
He catches me staring at his dick and quirks an eyebrow. “Like what you see, Essa?”
I nod.
He tilts his head slightly. “What are you thinking?” he asks.
I’m quiet, and he prods, “Essalin?”
I whisper the truth. “I’m thinking that I want to know what you taste like.”
Smiling, he leans down and kisses the insides of my still-quivering thighs—once, twice—and then he scoots up the bed until he is kneeling next to my head.
When he takes off his boxer briefs, I gush, “Wow. You’re, like, really huge.”
Farren chuckles and lets me stare in amazement.
“I can’t wait to feel you inside of me,” I murmur.
And that makes him groan. “Essa…”
But tonight is about taking things slowly. I know he’ll make me wait. Still, I can’t stop staring…and desiring.
“Essalin,” Farren rasps, his voice thick with his own need, “look at me.”
He trails a hand down to where I am, frankly, dripping. My eyes meet his, and he slides one finger into me. When he adds a second, my hips, of their own accord, begin to move with him.
“I don’t think I can take much more,” I gasp.
“You can take a lot more,” he tells me.
And so I move with him. I’m so wet that his fingers slide with ease between my swollen lips. “There you go, baby,” he says as his thumb works my clit.
When he adds a third finger and pumps more rapidly, I say, “I think I’m going to come again.”
“I know you’re going to come again,” he replies.
I lick my lips and reach for him. “Come with me, then.”
He scoots closer, and I take him in my mouth greedily, surprising myself. But the things Farren has made me feel tonight have me feeling fully open to him. I’ll do anything he wants me to. And I want to please him as much as he’s pleased me.
I imagine how we look right now: Farren kneeling next to me, my head turned to him so I can suck his cock. And me, spread wide on the bed, Farren’s fingers deep inside of me. It’s erotic; it’s hot, and when I feel him start to pulse, I don’t pull away. I want all of him…
And I get all of him. The groan he emits as he’s coming in my mouth fills me with satisfaction that I’ve fully pleasured Farren Shaw.
Afterward, I myself am so incredibly satiated that I have no energy to get up and brush my teeth. “Oh my God, I can’t move,” I murmur.
Farren covers me with a sheet that smells of us. He gets out of the bed. “Wait here,” he says.
I watch his gloriously masculine body as he walks to the tiny motel bathroom. “Gorgeous,” I mutter to myself.
When he returns, after I hear him peeing and washing off at the basin, he’s carrying a tumbler of water and a toothbrush with a curl of toothpaste atop the bristles.
“Thank you,” I say as I pull the sheet higher and sit up.
Farren hands me the toothbrush, and I brush. He glances around the room, finds an empty plastic cup on the table next to the bed, and holds it out to me. “Spit,” he commands.
After I do as I’m told, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and say again, “Thank you.”
He hands me the tumbler of clean water and takes the toothbrush and cup of yucky toothpaste spit back to the bathroom. A few seconds later, I hear him brushing his own teeth. And then he returns.
I’m leaning across the bed, trying to reach the table next to it so I can place the cup of water there. Farren gently slides the cup from my grasp, smiles, and accomplishes the task for me. When he slips back under the covers, he pulls me to him. “How do you feel about what we did tonight?”
I glance up at him from where I’m sprawled across his broad chest. “What do you mean?” I ask.
He brushes back hair that has fallen to my cheek. “I know you’re not very experienced, Essa. That’s why I kept things, well, limited. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with the things we did do.”
“What?” I drag out the a. “Are you kidding? I loved everything we did.”
I’m sure I sound overly enthusiastic, and my cheeks heat when I realize how my comment, and the way it’s been delivered, proves his point regarding my inexperience.
But he doesn’t mention any of that. Instead, he asks, “Was that the first time you’ve been…uh, pleasured orally?”
I’m sure, by his hesitation, he was about to use a much cruder term for what he did to me. But it is sweet that he cleaned it up for my sake.
Still, I feel awkward for being such a newbie in this area of sex. I plant my face in his chest and murmur, “Yes,” against hard muscles and smooth skin. “It was my first for the other thing, too.” He’s quiet, and I glance up. “Did I do okay?”
Farren chuckles and replies, “You were perfect, Essa.” He wraps his arms around me. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”
I sleep the best I have since Haven went missing. Sleeping in Farren’s capable arms is pure bliss. Unfortunately, when I wake up the next morning, he’s not there. The shower is still dripping, so I assume I must have just missed him. Returning to my own motel room, I take a shower and get dressed. I choose a pair of gray cutoff shorts and a sky-blue top to wear on this fine day.
As I’m pulling my shorts up my legs, I hear Farren returning to his room next door. I finish dressing then hurry and pack up my things. I don’t want to be the one to hold us up from getting back out on the road. When I’m done I rush over to Farren’s room. As I walk in, after a light knock on the slightly ajar door, I find Farren leaning over a map that he has spread out over the surface of the small table by the bed. He’s wearing dark pants and a white button-down, sleeves rolled up.
“Where were you?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward him.
He glances up at me. “Oh, I had to speak with Rick.”
“Rick is here in Oklahoma City?” I exclaim. “I thought he was going straight to New Mexico.”
“He is in New Mexico,” Farren replies distractedly, his eyes back on the map. “I talked with him on the phone.”
“But our burner phones are here.” I gesture to the bag Farren keeps his in.
“Actually”—he looks over
at me—“we needed new ones. That’s why I went out.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a small cell, and tosses it my way.
I catch it just as he says, “Give me your old one later today, and I’ll dispose of it.”
“Oh, okay.”
Farren returns to studying the map, and I take another step closer. He seems a little closed off today, and I pray it’s not because of what happened between us last night.
“Are we still going to New Mexico?” I quietly ask.
It seems like a fair question, since he’s poring over a map of that state. Plus, New Mexico is supposed to be our next destination.
“Yes,” Farren replies slowly. “But not today.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised by the change in plans. “I thought time was of the essence.”
Farren gives me a look like my comments are amusing. He smiles, and I feel like he’s opening up to me again. Guess he was just distracted.
“Time is of the essence,” he confirms. “And we’ll still be going to New Mexico…just not today.”
“Can I ask why?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Rick has a team set up to rescue my sister, and—”
“Whoa, wait.” I put up my hand. This is why he seemed distracted. “You know where Haven is? She’s definitely in New Mexico?”
I’m filled with renewed hope, but I’m only cautiously optimistic. We may know Haven’s location, but she’s not been rescued yet. And the men who have her aren’t exactly nice.
“We have a potential location, yes,” Farren says. “But it’s nothing definite. I don’t want to be on the road, however, and not be able to reach Rick. So, for the next few days, we remain where we are.”
I can’t help it, I’m so excited that this whole Haven-in-danger ordeal may be coming to a close that I race over to Farren and throw my arms around him.
“This is so incredible,” I murmur into the crisp, starched cotton of his dress shirt. “I can’t wait to see her again.” Glancing up, I bite my lip and ask, “You don’t think she’ll be mad we, uh, sort of hooked up, do you?”
Farren smiles down at me, and, caressing my cheek, he says, “No, she won’t be mad. You know Haven’s not like that.”