by Marni Mann
“At night, you mean.” The clarification isn’t needed; I can see the answer in her eyes. I’m just afraid that what I want is about to come through my lips, and I won’t be able to stop myself once I say the words.
“At night.” As she leans in closer, her nipples press into me. “And right now.”
I take a deep breath and try to control my hands. “Andi, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
She closes her eyes and moves her head back to expose her full neck. Each time I exhale, more goose bumps rise on her skin. Her pulse throbs in her neck, and her hips slowly move under my hands.
I try so goddamn hard to keep my lips off her, but her skin is too gorgeous not to kiss.
Just a taste, a small taste, I tell myself.
I place my mouth at the bottom of her throat and smell the heat from her flesh.
“Hurt me,” she moans.
Her words vibrate over my lips, and then I move them a few inches higher where her skin is even hotter.
“Hurt me.”
I kiss her harder, traveling all the way up to her ear. I hold her earlobe between my teeth, knowing I’m losing all the control I had. She’s grinding against my dick. It will only take a few more pumps of her hips, and everything she’s wearing will be on the floor.
“Don’t ask for that, Andi.”
“Hurt me, Adrian.”
I cup her cheeks and make her face me, waiting for her eyes to lock with mine, before I say, “There’s no turning back from this. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t stop. You’ll be mine.”
“I already am yours, Adrian.” She puts her hands on top of mine. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“You haven’t fully healed yet.”
“No,” she says, responding to my resistance, clamping down on me even tighter. “Don’t you dare take your hands off me. There’s nothing you can do that will break me. I can’t be broken—not anymore and not by you.”
She doesn’t know my strength, my power. She doesn’t know how easy it would be to reinjure her ribs or to press too hard on her lungs or to open one of her wounds. Brooks is what she’s used to, but compared to me, I have a feeling he’s as weak as a jockey. Until a few months ago, I trained and worked out for a living. My body has only bulked on more muscle since I switched to running.
What Andi needs is gentle. Soft. Slow.
I don’t know that I can be any of those things, especially with how badly I want her.
“You’re wrong,” I tell her. “I can hurt you.”
She grabs me by the collar of my shirt. I’ve noticed the hunger in her eyes over the last few days. It’s nothing compared to the way she’s looking at me now.
“Don’t make me beg. Because I will. And I’ll happily use my—”
I grip her by the back of the head and push her mouth onto mine. Our kiss is hard and deep. Then, I drag my hands through her hair and feel her body collapse into mine. She moans and reaches for the buttons on my shirt.
I move her hands off me and pull away, kissing each of her fingers. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” she asks. “I can’t wait any longer, Hat Boy. I want to touch it, touch you.”
I laugh. I’ve never seen this side of her. Not the one who wants my dick this badly or the one who is this impatient to get her own way.
I like it.
Really fucking like it.
But she isn’t going to get my cock yet. Not until I know I won’t hurt her, especially not until I know she can take all of me without having to hold back. Still, there’s no way I’m leaving this kitchen without tasting more of her.
“Maybe I want to hear you beg,” I say, brushing my lips over her ear, taking in her smell.
Even though I’ve kissed her a few times before today, her smell is still new to me. It’s warm, sugary, like a mix of vanilla and buttercream frosting.
“Should I be on my knees when I do it?”
That image fills my mind as I run the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip—a lip that will soon be wrapped around my crown. I can almost feel her gloss on my shaft, the warmth of her tongue around my tip, the deepness of her throat.
Her suction.
Damn.
“I want you on your knees, baby, but I want something else first,” I say, slipping my hands under her arms and lifting her onto the counter.
Now that she’s sitting, I pull the tank top over her head and unclasp her bra with my other hand. Her handful-sized tits fall out of the cups, her nipples turning even harder when the air hits them. I leave her skirt and heels on and take a step back, so I can really look at her.
“Goddamn it, Andi. You’re gorgeous.”
My gaze slowly drops down her neck, past her breasts, and onto her flat stomach. She has the kind of body that I desire. She isn’t tight and ripped like the swimmers on my old team. She has curves, small places for me to hold and squeeze, soft flesh that I can get lost in.
“Even with all my scars?”
She looks down, and it’s the first time I feel her insecurity. If I didn’t already throw her shirt and bra on the floor, I bet she’d reach for them to cover up.
“Hey.” I wait for her to look at me before I say, “They make you even more beautiful.”
Her scars aren’t flaws, and there’s nothing ugly about them. They are her story, her past. They reveal her fight and her courage. They show how stunning she really is.
And each of them has led me to her.
I slide off her skirt and thong and go straight to the scar by her rib, flattening my tongue to lick the whole length of it. Once I cover the thick, rough line, I move over to the mark on her wrist and the one at the side of her breast. Then, I slowly and hungrily eat my way across her hip. I feel her breathing quicken as I get lower, and her hands run through and clench my hair. Her moans vibrate inside her chest, and as I get closer to her navel, she quivers.
“If it’s too much, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop, Adrian. Please. Don’t stop.”
I rise again and drop my mouth onto her nipple, flicking just the tip with my tongue. Her gasp tells me how much she likes it. As I suck it between my lips, she crosses her legs behind me and digs her heels into my ass.
“Oh my God,” she breathes as I switch to my teeth, gently gnawing around it.
I can’t wait anymore. I have to taste her.
I jerk her hips forward and move her to the edge of the counter, my face going between her thighs. She smells even sweeter here. Her skin is warmer. And, as I swipe my tongue across the outside of her lips, I feel her melt.
She’s giving herself to me—her heart, her pussy, all of it.
It’s finally mine.
Just how I want it.
She screams as I lick her clit, a sexy, throaty groan that makes my dick even harder. That’s where I stay—the spot right at the top that makes her hips buck and her fingers twist around my hair. When I touch her with my hand, she’s already so fucking wet, my finger slides right in.
“Adrian,” she moans. “That feels…so good.”
I love the way my name sounds as she breathes it out, how her legs shake, how she drives the back of her head into the cabinet. Her hair is tousled; her lips are open, desire dripping right out of her. She’s even more beautiful like this—vulnerable, claiming what she needs, baring her scars to me.
I could stay in this same spot forever, looking at her face from between her legs, licking that tight bud as her wetness soaks my fingers. But I want to show her how I can really make her feel.
So, I flick her harder, faster. My fingers move inside her, but they tilt up and turn in circles. As her stomach tightens, telling me how close she is, I surround her again and suck.
“Adrian, fuck.”
Her stomach shudders, and her moans fill my ears, all of it causing me to go even faster until I feel her body still. Then, I flatten my tongue and carefully lick all the w
etness off her pussy. Our eyes lock as I do this. Her lips part, but nothing comes out of them. I continue to move up her body and stop at her mouth.
“Wow,” she pants. “Just wow.”
I smile, nuzzling my beard against her cheek. “I have about an hour before I have to go to work.”
“Work?” She sounds confused. “Oh, right. Work. At the bar. Where I work, too.”
I kiss across her neck, cupping her tit with my hand, grazing my thumb across her hard nipple. “An hour to give you my tongue again.”
“You mean, you want to do that again? Right now?”
“Yes, Andi, I want to do it again. And again.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I wrap her legs around my waist and lift her off the counter. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She moans as I carry her to our bed.
Andi
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be wrapped up in another man’s arms so soon after leaving New York. When I was making plans to escape, the last thing I was worried about was another relationship. I was still mourning the loss of the man Brooks used to be. If anything, I was scared I was too damaged for someone to love. And how would I ever be able to look at the opposite sex and feel desire instead of shame?
Without even realizing it, Adrian taught me that desire didn’t have to begin with a kiss or touch. Desire could exist without physical expectations. He could feel it in his heart, and I could accept it in mine.
And I know Adrian had to feel something strong because, when he met me, I wasn’t a pretty sight. I was battered, bruised, and had been stripped of all my self-worth. Still, he saw beyond the damage and gave me what I needed. He saw me, even when I wished I were invisible.
In his eyes, I was never weak and vulnerable prey. He stood by me and supported my pain when I was at my lowest low. He let me cry on his shoulder, and not once did he ever let me take the blame.
Adrian believed I was worth saving long before he carried me to safety. Without his help, I probably would have buried myself in grief, unable to separate reality from the depression that was trying to control me.
No matter how hard I try to keep my head held high, he’s still afraid to push me too far, too fast. But, when he gets carried away, that’s when I feel alive. Treating me like I’m breakable robs me of the rush of adrenaline I need to get from one day to the next.
Sure, I surprised myself when I practically begged him to hurt me, but there was nothing physical or violent about my request. I was simply trying to convey my trust in him. That, if he let go, I would be able to handle whatever he gave me.
I’ve never found comfort in pain, never sought it out. And I certainly never accepted that it was all I deserved.
What I seek is Adrian’s passion. The way he grips me unapologetically—not out of malice, but out of sheer want. Like he’s trying to climb inside me and can’t get close enough. That push and pull is what makes me feel powerful, like I could conquer any obstacle.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers as he nips at my earlobe.
Something about that spot on my neck makes him crazy. It’s always his beginning and end point.
“I’m starting at the bar tomorrow. We’ll be able to leave together.”
“Thank fuck,” he says as he slides his hand across my stomach. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be to watch you all night and not be able to touch you?”
“I’ve always wanted to do it on a bar.”
“Andi,” he groans. “Now, all I’ll picture is you walking around in your sexy white T-shirt, covered in whiskey.”
“Will you lick it off me?” I run my tongue up the side of his neck, like I did when his shaft was in my mouth.
He makes the connection and tightens his grip on my hip.
“I’ll lick every drop off your body, and then I’ll suck your nipple through the fabric, drinking every bit of liquor that’s soaked into the shirt.”
“Is that a promise?” I straddle his hips and let my hair fall around my shoulders like a curtain.
He reaches up and tucks a piece behind my ear.
“I get goose bumps when you do that,” I say.
“When I suck your nipples?”
Adrian’s different in so many ways, but in the bedroom, he has a one-track mind.
“No. When you touch my face or play with my hair.” I’m so used to being backhanded or having my hair pulled from my scalp that his tenderness makes me feel cherished.
“This isn’t about sex. I told you that.”
He feels the need to clarify, but I don’t need him to spell it out for me again. I already know this is more than just sex. This is about us—together.
“Considering we haven’t had any, I believe you.”
He kneads my ass in his hands, never once taking his eyes off mine. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t want it. Sometimes, it’s all I think about. You consume me, Andi. You’ve been through hell, and I won’t ever take you for granted.”
“Adrian,” I whisper as tears prick my eyes. I’m so overcome with emotion, I want to hide my face, but he doesn’t let me look away from him.
Catching a falling tear on the tip of his thumb, he gives me a sad smile. “I have to get it right this time—for you and for me. Because, once I’m inside you, Andi, I’ll finally be home.”
“You couldn’t get it wrong if you tried.” I say a silent prayer that he isn’t too good to be true. That he’ll never stop looking at me like I make it easier for him to breathe. I never want his all-consuming need to go away. “When I’m with you, Adrian, the nightmare is over.”
“Baby, I’ll give you the world. You’re never going back to that life.”
I believe that, too.
“As much as I love this conversation, you’re going to be late for work.”
Glancing at the clock, he groans again. “You’ll be okay here? I won’t leave if you’re scared.”
“I’ll come to the bar if I’m nervous.”
I hate that I’m not stronger. But, when it’s quiet and I’m all by myself, my imagination can get the best of me. Every little sound is manifested into something bigger. Something like Brooks storming into the condo, threatening to kill me with a blade against my throat. I’ve visited the scenario in my dreams so many times, I can still smell his sweat and the blood trickling down my chest. Death is the worst smell of all.
“Andi,” Adrian says a couple of times before I blink out of a trance.
“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
He grabs my face and pulls my lips to his, chasing away the doubt with the heat of his mouth. The more he kisses me, the more I want him to stay.
We both know he can’t, and when he does finally pull away, I see the reluctance in his eyes. He wants to stay, too.
“I was just telling you how much I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” More than he knows.
The only time he’s been away from me since I met him, Brooks got to me. I’m scared he’ll be waiting for Adrian to leave, waiting to find his way into the apartment.
Adrian starts to walk toward the shower but stops himself. “You’re worried,” he says as soon as I start to chew on my nail.
“Just some growing pains. I’ll be fine.”
“Andi, come with me. I won’t be able to work if I know you’re scared. I’ll set up a spot for you at the bar. Bring the laptop. You can have all the Wi-Fi you need.”
I climb out of the mess of sheets and take his hand. Leading him to the bathroom, I point to the shower and push him inside. He takes the hint, but he doesn’t stop pleading with his eyes.
“Not another word. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” I can’t tell who I’m trying to convince anymore—probably myself.
Fifteen minutes later, Adrian’s showered and dressed in his uniform polo. Even a cheap shirt looks sexy on him. So sexy, I can barely believe he’s mine.
“Call me if you need anything. And I mea
n anything, Andi.”
“I will,” I tell him as I wrap my arms around my middle. I’m still wearing the simple white T-shirt he wants to douse in whiskey. By the time he gets home, I just might let him.
He kisses me three more times, assessing my mood and facial expressions after each one. If he’s waiting for me to crumble, it’s not going to happen. I can do this. At least, I think I can.
Opening the door, he looks over his shoulder and waits for me to close it behind him. As soon as he’s out of view, I swallow the lump in my throat and accept that he’s gone until early morning.
The tall windows lining the walls make me feel completely exposed. I’d do anything for some curtains to hide behind. The sunshine is always welcoming, but the night sky is unpredictable. Like the ocean, the depths of the darkness lead to shadows of uncertainty. And, when it’s dark, my mind can play tricks on me way too easily.
Instead of curling up on the couch in front of the big screen, I end up back in the bedroom, far away from the windows. I flip through the channels on the TV, wishing I could call Camille instead. Until I get a new burner phone, I can’t find comfort in the sound of her voice. All I can do is lie here and think about all the things I can’t change, all the aspects of my life I no longer have any control over.
Just get through tonight, I tell myself.
After this, I’ll be with Adrian. He’ll be in the same room, looking out for me in case I don’t see what’s coming.
In the meantime, I open my laptop and try to figure out how I can help him. He’s done so much for me, but he’s never going to be at peace until he clears his name. Maybe I don’t have the kind of power to do it for him, but there has to be something I can do. The logical first step would be to ask Adrian for more information about Ravi. But, if he doesn’t want me digging, he won’t offer any details.
Adrian’s name in the search engine leads me to hundreds of hits, but each heading is relatively the same. The circumstances surrounding the fallout all portray the same message—even though it is completely false. It’s no wonder he changed his name and went into hiding.