Hyde, an Urban Fantasy

by Lauren Stewart

  Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might need medical attention. But not yet. She had lots to do before she’d stop to think about that. Looking at his body, hard and vulnerable, was difficult, but she knew she had to. She tried to take strength from his eyes, but that was no help—he looked terrified.

  “Is this alright?” she whispered, praying he would say yes.

  “This is . . . tough . . . but very alright.” He sighed. “I’ve never let anyone . . . in like this.”

  “That makes two of us. Well, it will in a minute.”

  He groaned.

  Smiling nervously, she glided her palms across his chest, down his taut abs. His body shuddered the whole way. She swallowed, steadying herself, and touched him. He jerked under her hand.

  “Oh, shit.” He yanked the pillow from behind his head and put it over his chest, clutching it, his arm muscles straining, almost as if he was in pain.

  Her hands flew off. “I’m sorry.”

  Lifting the pillow so she could see his eyes, he asked, “Could you . . . um . . . could you come up here?”

  She moved alongside him, stretching her body out so it snuggled close to his side, liking the way they fit.

  Releasing his grip of the pillow with one hand, he brought her face to his. There was no tension in his lips as they brushed against hers, just warmth and softness. Once they connected, he removed his fingers from her chin. He was kissing her the same way he had before—slowly and patiently.

  Her body had other ideas. She held his face, loving the scratch of his unshaven jaw, imagining what it would feel like on the rest of her body. Opening herself to him, she felt a wave of heat spread through her, a want she’d often read about, but had never known was real or just something books pretended was real. It was. With her plans to linger in this moment forever quickly fading, her leg slipped over his body, rolling her on top of him.

  He mumbled something into her mouth, or maybe it had just been a groan. Whatever it was helped her know how right this was. How right they were. She knew he was struggling to keep his hands off her—tendons straining, muscles bulging throughout his body. He was tight under her, pressing himself into the soft mattress as far as he could as if he was afraid to let his skin touch hers. His lips and tongue weren’t the only things reaching out to her. As she moved against him, fitting further into him, she felt his erection brush her center.

  Oasis. He was her oasis. After a very long walk through hell.

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  He was going to rip the fucking pillow apart. This was a really bad idea. Why did he think he could do this? Control himself?

  Focus on the kiss. Not the part of her that was a centimeter away from his pulsing cock. He needed to stay still, needed her to decide what they would do and when they would do it. Asking for her lips had already crossed the line he’d set for himself. Breathe, Mitch. This was about her, not him. He would let her find herself, even if it killed him. Which was a serious possibility. She needed to learn what someone could offer her without just taking for themselves. He couldn’t allow himself to touch her. It would all be over if he touched her—he’d scare her away. Or he’d come like a teenager without ever being inside of her. That might be worse.

  Every muscle was cramped, aching to envelop her. Shit. He was so close to giving in, to press her down onto him. Or to flip them over and press his way into her. He was going to lose his mind. Truly lose his fucking mind to her.

  Focus on the kiss. Ignore the warmth and wetness he felt just above his— The kiss. Her hands on his shoulders and sides, pressing, grasping. More quickly now. Her thighs were slick with her, sliding down so close to— No, the kiss. Her hair fell around them like a veil, closing them off from the outside world. It smelled like strawberries. Only reminding him of his own hunger. Not for food. For her. Damn it.

  She needed to slow down. He knew it instinctively—she shouldn’t be rushed, even if it was her own body that was hurrying. Jesus, she felt good, her weight pressing against him, filling him. Like he needed to fill her—The kiss. Focus on the fucking kiss.

  He needed to say something. But at some point, he’d gotten lock jaw and was now very probably foaming at the mouth. Or at least drooling. He wanted to touch her breasts so fucking bad. Just the side. He’d be happy with a one-fingered brush against the fullness that wasn’t already pressed so hard against his chest. Just the side. Yeah sure, like he needed a finger wandering off, knowing exactly where it would head next. This was a very bad idea.

  “Slower,” he managed to stammer out.

  “I don’t want to go slower.” They were both breathing hard, panting. She reached behind her and wrapped her hand around his cock. “You don’t want me to go slower either.”

  “Oh, fuck. No, really—”

  She squeezed.

  “I’m begging you to stop.” He couldn’t feel his legs. “We need to slow down.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked. “Good question.” There’d been a reason, right? Just not one he could remember presently. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d been with lots of gorgeous women before, but Eden was . . . Eden was something completely different. It wasn’t her outward beauty that drew him in. It was her strength, her fire, her desire to do what was right even when it wasn’t easy, her ability to make him see himself as a worthy human being. How the hell did she do it?

  When she sat up, all the air in his lungs went with her. He searched her face for signs of fear or regret. No, he couldn’t let her regret this moment. It might destroy both of them.

  She smiled, her eyes lighting up the room. “I’m doing pretty well, aren’t I?”

  Thank God. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re doing great.”

  “I feel great.” She lowered herself, warming him again, and whispered, “You make me feel great.”

  His mouth moved, but his mind was blank. What do you say to that? The most amazing woman you’ve ever seen is naked on top of you, smiling with lips your lips have made fuller. What the hell do you say to that?

  “I think I want you inside me, but . . .”

  Oh God, did she say “but”?

  “Are you okay with this?” she asked.

  “With what?” Her walking out of the room? Hell, no.

  “With me”—her brow furrowed—“using you.”

  Once his heart stopped palpating and his cock stopped jerking, he allowed himself to caress her cheek. One quick touch before wrapping his fingers back together under his head. “I want this to be clear: I will enjoy every second of this you give me. Whatever you offer, whatever you take. I am . . . yours.”

  She blinked rapidly. “Do you mean that?”

  “You better fucking believe it.” He watched the trepidation disappear from her face. “I will behave. But I might need another pillow.” He lifted the disfigured pile of fluff he’d been choking the stuffing out of and enjoyed the melody of her laugh.

  Her mouth moved to his neck and though he ached to return the favor, capturing the scent of her hair again, he couldn’t move. He was her prisoner, a willing captor for her to touch, grasp and play with for as long as she wanted to. Climbing off of him, she traveled down to his chest, hands moving slightly ahead of her mouth, unpredictable, exploring.

  He’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so incredible. With every brush of her lips, she discovered him, tasted him, knew him. She dipped lower. To his abs, the crest of his hip. Desire raced through his body, bouncing between the touch of her fingertips to the stroke of her tongue.

  He couldn’t control the arch of his hips, lifting to bring his cock closer to her lips, desperate to feel her take all of him in. But if she did that, he’d come. Abso-fucking-lutely. “No, don’t—” Oh shit, that was close.

  Her eyes were huge, brows close together. “Did I do something wrong?” How could she be so uncertain and so right at the same time?

  “Nothing wrong. All amazing. But if you keep doing that, it’s . . . I’m going to . . .” How
do you find the right word when none you’ve ever used seemed soft enough for your lover’s ears?

  “Oh, sorry,” she said with a look that proved otherwise. “I got carried away.”

  “Perhaps you could get carried away again later.” Like when he could get more oxygen.

  He felt the little vibrations of her laugh against his skin as she brought her lips up his torso and back to his mouth. He didn’t need to remind himself to stay focused on the kiss anymore. It was everything. It was insanity and euphoria all rolled up by a beautiful little brunette who made his life worth something.

  Jesus, he wanted to touch her. But he had to wait, clutching the pillow or the headboard, his arms sore from the effort.

  She straddled his hips again, rolling her core against his length. Face-to-face, even her moans were beautiful. It was excruciating for him to not be able to take her fully. She spread open his fisted hands with her fingers and intertwined them, but kept them pinned to the bed.

  “Why didn’t I talk you into this sooner?” she said with a smirk before sliding down his body, kisses trailing down his neck.

  He jolted when he felt her silky warmth envelop the tip of his cock. “Wait,” he groaned at the same time as he saw her eyes open wide in shock and her body stop, then retreat slightly. Damn it. How could he tell her all of the things he wanted to do? That he wanted to taste her, spend the rest of his life with his mouth between her thighs. This was supposed to be her show. His needs didn’t matter. He couldn’t tell her that, once his cock was inside her, the stopwatch until he came would start at about one minute, thirty seconds like a seventeen-year-old kid? He sighed. “Condoms, corner pocket.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Drawer. Corner. Condom.”

  She reached out and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a new box. Ripping it open, she fumbled, sending them everywhere but where they needed to be. She was going to fall off the bed—or worse him—if he didn’t stop her.

  He grabbed her wrist and rolled over her, unwilling to break contact for even a moment. He grabbed a long train of packets off the ground and presented them to her. In his excitement, he hadn’t realized he was now on top of a naked woman he hadn’t exactly been given permission to touch.

  She didn’t look like she cared much. Yeah, that was verified when she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her hips into his.

  Breathing would be a good idea right now. Sliding the inch it would take to be inside of her was also a good idea, but he could wait . . . about thirty more seconds. Nice control, asshole.

  She took the condoms out of his hand and said, “I had to put one of these on a banana at a party once. It was a dare.”

  “Dare you to try it again.”

  “And if I can do it?”

  “Anything you want.”

  She smiled. “And if I can’t?”

  “Anything you want. In addition to a how-to lesson.”

  “You got yourself a deal.” She rolled them both over, her breasts pressed against his chest. “I like having control over you, Mitch.”

  “That makes two of us.” Words he’d never imagined coming out of his mouth.

  For some reason, he decided to make it harder for her, turning his cock and hips away from her as she tried to aim. And he loved that she was game. Her smile and occasional glare were, unbelievably, worth the delay.

  “I could keep you still with these.” She bared her teeth.

  He let her win, knowing he’d blow the second that mouth got anywhere near his cock—teeth involved or not. But before she could collect her prize—his prize—he’d make her work for it. They played, laughed, and teased until the moment she slid him inside of her. When his world stopped. Everything he’d ever known. Everything he’d ever been disappeared in that one movement.

  Forcing his eyes open, he saw her. He cursed the pleasure he felt ripping through his body. Because it happened at the same moment as shock registered on her face. He needed to help her.

  “Jesus, Eden, we can stop.” His words were guttural and torn from him. The hardest thing he’d ever had to say. “Get off.” He grabbed her hips and pushed her up away from him.

  She slapped her hands on top of his, her eyes wide. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. I—” He stopped. “Are you in pain right now?”

  She started to move slowly. “I feel . . .” A smile spread on her face. “This is how it’s supposed to feel, isn’t it?”

  He sat up half-way, leaning on his elbows as she rocked him, wanting to be near her flush breasts, her pounding heart. “Yeah, I think it is.” Yep, he might get used to this, after three or four lifetimes.

  § § §

  This was how it should feel. She was tingling, vibrating, each time she lowered onto him, taking him deeper. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they so wanted to close, to allow every nerve to focus on the feel of him inside her. “Touch me.” When she heard him inhale sharply, she looked at him.

  “You sure?” His hands were inches from her hips, shaking. “Because it could change things . . . rapidly.” When he shifted to sit up straighter, she felt him press further into her, rubbing against the wall of her core. Both of them moaned.

  Oh, God. “I want you to touch me, Mitch.” She rose slightly, tempting him into action.

  Given permission, his chest relaxed momentarily. Then he clutched her hips and pushed her down.

  “Oh!” A spike of pleasure tore through her, lifting her up and slamming her back down again. She threw her head backwards, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

  He kept the momentum, rocking her faster, pulling her forward so her center brushed against his skin with every thrust.

  Her breath came out in gasps, matching his. Someone was moaning loudly, probably her since the sound continued as he dragged his teeth across her shoulder. Oh my God, she wanted him to bite her! Wait, reverse that. She wanted to bite him. Who would have ever thought she’d have it in her? Um . . . no one? Not wanting to break their rhythm, she carefully lifted his chin. She clenched her muscles, wanting to hold onto him forever, but the feeling was getting too strong. Too overpowering.

  His eyes were glazed over, the vein in his neck pounding under her fingers. He blinked and opened his mouth to say something. At first, all he could get out were short moans in beat with their hips. Then his lips moved. “I—I—”

  A cry broke free from her, sending her scream and euphoria bouncing off the sky, aftershocks bringing jolts of pleasure as if God himself was sending her a reward.

  § § §

  Mitch kept her moving above him, her legs shaking and limp, the ripples of gratification being prolonged with each movement.

  Her chest lifted with every gasp as she started breathing again, her eyes shining. “Another thing I’ve never done—check.”

  Did she mean . . . ? “Never?” His voice was hoarse, broken apart by the gift she’d given him.

  She smiled, a question filling her eyes.

  Was it over? Did he deserve to finish within her? He slowed her down, letting her recover, wondering what he should do.

  “What were you going to say?” she asked breathlessly.

  You mean, before you made me the luckiest bastard on earth? Who could never have earned this much happiness in twelve lifetimes? “Don’t remember.”

  “Too bad.” With one twitch of an eyebrow, she let him know how much she believed him. But she didn’t push. Until she brought her hands to his chest and pressed him down. “You don’t want to stop now, do you?”

  “Stupid question, Eden.” When she smiled, he felt the sudden need to wipe the grin off her face and replace it with the half-lidded look she’d worn earlier. He flipped them both over, trapping her underneath him, fighting the idea to take her fast and hard with everything he had. That would come later. If he was very fucking lucky. But she’d have to make that decision, not him.

  Her eyes widened momentarily until he carefully started rocking into her.
Then that smile disappeared and she moved against him, lifting her hips to meet his.

  It was fairly traumatic for him to move so slowly. Gentle. Be gentle. Kissing her helped to calm his thrusts, the shake in his thighs and ass, the struggle to make this special for her. She was nothing like any of the other women he’d been with. She deserved nothing less than all the pleasure and care he had in him to give. And part of him hoped that, in return, she would accept him for who he was. If he could just show her that he was worthy of her.

  He brought his hand under her ass, using it to lift her to him, to be deeper inside of her, without bringing all his force down onto her. When her moans increased, he realized he’d sped up. Pressing into her, he wanted to claim her. In a way no other man would ever be able to do. His body, this experience, would be the yardstick she’d compare all future lovers to.