by Marie Meyer
While he types, I rearrange my disheveled clothes, twisting my shirt back into place. Bobby, being the good boy he is, has curled up in his bed on the other side of the living room, oblivious to what Thor and I had been doing. Out of the corner of my eye, Thor’s shirtless torso captures my interest. I enjoy the view, taking in all his sexy ink.
Thor passes me the phone. Red, I’m really sorry I ran out on you the other day and that my messages have been so vague. I’ve just been dealing with some family shit. I didn’t mean to worry you.
I write: What happened? Is your mom okay? What can I do to help? I hand Thor the phone. While he reads and types his response, I resume my perusal of the artwork covering his skin. I’ve seen his arms on plenty of occasions, but the artwork on his chest is something I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing yet. I can’t help but stare, taking in all of his body art.
The dark lines of the ink on his arms swirls and blends, morphing into handfuls of timepieces. Some large, others are small, each bearing a different time. The largest one, the one I traced with my finger on our first date is set at 4:27.
Still typing, he flexes, drawing my attention to the ink covering his left pectoral muscle, along with the silver gleam of a nipple piercing.
I glimpsed the flash of something shiny when he stood up earlier, but couldn’t make out what it was. Up close, I can see it’s at the center of some sort of circle with eight tangents radiating outward, each line ending with a symbol, all under a giant hammer.
His body is a study in Thorin Kline hieroglyphics. I wish I knew what each pictograph meant. Why he chose to have these images etched onto his skin forever. What is the significance of 4:27? Why an eight-pointed star? None of these tattoos are something someone would get on a whim. I want to know this part of Thor.
He passes the phone back to me. There was a disturbance at her place. Had to make sure she was all right. She’s fine. Everything’s good.
I write back: Glad she’s all right. Anything I can do?
Taking a second to glance at the screen, he cranes his neck in my direction and lifts an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can think of something for you to do.”
I didn’t catch all of that, but enough to understand his innuendo. A smirk tugs at my corners of my lips. “Oh, Really?” I mouth.
He nods, abandoning the phone on the cushion beside him, and shifting his body in my direction.
I did want a better look at that piercing but I’m not close enough, yet.
Angling my body, I throw my leg over his lap, straddling him. Moving my hands to his chest, I trace the outer circle of the tattoo, working my way to one of the lines, stopping before I reach the silver barb. I’ve never seen a nipple piercing. It looks good on him…really good.
Thor’s chest moves up and down, as I caress the tines of each fork radiating out from the center of the star. He watches my finger as I draw over the next ray, still too shy to touch his nipple. What if it hurts?
He breathes in. And out. Faster and faster.
I match my breaths to his, inching my finger closer to the center of the circle…closer to the piercing. He shifts his hips, pressing the hard bulge in his pants against my apex.
Gasping, I hold his gaze. Our eyes locked together, I bend down and flick his nipple with my tongue.
“Fuck.” I lipread the word as he bites down on his lip, staring at me.
I lick again, enjoying each reaction my roaming tongue elicits. I love the way the hard metal feels in contrast to his warm flesh.
Wrapping my mouth around his whole nipple, I lick and suck at the piercing. Thor’s heart pounds inside his chest. His head falls back against the couch, while his hands work at my waist, balling the fabric of my shirt in his strong grasp.
Pumping his hips, I bounce on his lap as he removes my T-shirt, forcing me off him.
Eyes locked again, both of us catch our breath. He is so friggin’ sexy. His stormy eyes push me over the edge. I want him now. Can’t wait.
Standing up, I grab his hand and pull him off the couch, leading him toward my bedroom.
Inside my room, I don’t waste a second, crushing my mouth to his as I kick the door shut. He doesn’t hold back, kissing me hard. Touching his chest, I finger both of his nipples. I can’t keep my hands off his piercing; it’s such a turn-on. Oh my God!
Thor flips the hooks on my bra and it drops to the floor. He spins us around, pushing me onto the bed. Stalking toward me, he forces my legs wider with his knee, covering my body with his. Bending over, he licks across my nipple, just like I had done to him, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. With a playful bite, he sucks me into his mouth.
And I’m dead.
A wave of desire crashes over me, igniting a blaze of wanting between my legs. My head falls back, absorbing the sensation of each nip and suck. No one has ever made me feel like this. I’ve wanted this since the night we met.
I give myself over to him, welcoming the release building inside me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thor
“I want to touch you.” I lean in and kiss her, caressing my tongue over her swollen lips. I know she needs to see my mouth when I speak, but goddammit, I have to kiss her, too. It takes everything thing I have to tear myself away. Pulling back, I stare down at her. “Show me where to touch you, Harper?” I ask, hoping she can read my lips. I want to watch her come undone from just my touch before I slide inside her.
My hand grazes the inside of her thigh, climbing higher and higher, meeting the lacy edge of her purple panties. I’ve wanted to rip them off and bury myself balls deep between her legs ever since she shimmied out of her leggings a moment ago, but watching her squirm under my fingers is satisfying in its own right.
From what I’ve learned about Harper in the weeks since we’ve been together, she isn’t shy about what she wants, and I fucking love that. So damn sexy.
Not missing a beat, Harper takes my hand, guiding it over her smooth stomach. She has got the most gorgeous body, soft and curvy in all the right places. Her stomach isn’t completely flat, but rises to a tiny hill just below her belly button. Fucking hot as hell.
I grab hold of her waist, pressing my forehead to the perfect pooch of her stomach, breathing in her sent as I kiss my way down. Harper moves her hand from mine, placing it at the top of my head, pushing me lower. Fuck yeah, Red, show me what you want.
She’s going to kill me. And I want her to.
Hooking my fingers into the sides of her panties, I pull them down. Drawing in a deep breath, my eyes roll to the back of head. She smells divine. I want to bottle this scent—sex and longing and nothing but Harper.
She guides my head all the way between her legs, lifting her pelvis in offering.
Pushing my hands between her ass and the mattress, I hold on tight, bring her pussy to my mouth, caressing her slick folds. Fuck me. She’s so wet.
Licking over her clit, I suck her into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Harper arches her back, a sighing breath escaping from her mouth. She presses closer, begging for more. And I give it to her, loving the way she moves her body against my mouth. She tastes so fucking good. My cock aches, so jealous.
I kiss the inside of her thighs, loving the gasps coming from her mouth. She’s close…so close. I want to watch her come.
Rising, I cover her body with mine, my fingers taking over where my mouth left off.
My thumb traces circles over her clit, while I press two…three fingers inside, fucking her. Eyes closed, she rides my hand, chasing her release. One of many I’m going to give her tonight.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Wild red curls splayed out over the pillow, fingers white-knuckling the comforter, hips grinding against my hand. I slide my fingers in and out, giving her what she wants. “That’s it, baby,” I breathe against her ear, biting her earlobe.
She clenches around my fingers, body shaking. I rub my thumb against her clit and she shudders uncontrollably, legs straight, toes pointed
. Letting out the longest breath, her body relaxes, and she opens her brilliant green eyes.
Her hand clawed, she waves it in front of her face. “Amazing.”
I see the word on her lips, wishing so much that I could hear her say it. “We’re not done yet, Red,” I promise.
She smiles, leaning up and pressing her mouth to mine.
While I kiss her, I get my fly open, tugging on my pants, not getting very far. Shit! “Hold that thought,” I say against her mouth. Standing up, I take my wallet from my back pocket and pull out a condom before my jeans and boxers hit the floor.
Harper shimmies the rest of the way out of her purple panties, completely naked, and fucking beautiful. It’s time. I’ve got to get inside her.
Ripping open the condom wrapper, I roll it over my cock, and climb back onto the bed, Harper beneath me.
Poised at her opening, I press against her. She opens wider, an invitation.
With one thrust, I’m in, buried from shaft to hilt. “Fuuuuuck!” I growl, savoring the way her pussy tightens around me. I almost afraid to move, worried that I’ll come the instant I work up some friction.
But, my body takes over and it moves of its own accord, pumping slowly at first, until Harper joins in the rhythm, her hands on my ass, driving me farther into her.
Now I’m thrusting at the exact moment her body rises to meet mine. We fit together, our bodies moving in unison—like we’re made for each other and no one else. It’s never felt this good.
Dragging her fingernails up my back, she cups my face in her hands, pulling me down, her tongue sweeping into my mouth. Bodies rocking, we kiss.
I peel her fingers off my cheeks and force her hands above her head, locking our palms together. Kissing over her mouth and along her jaw, I revisit all those sweet spots that made her pant earlier.
Our sweat-slicked skin rubs together, and I can feel her beaded nipples, hard against my chest. I want to lick every inch of her skin, even if it means I have to last all fucking night. I’d do it for her.
Harper’s breaths come harder. I can feel her heart pounding inside her chest…and against my cock. I pump faster. She’s close. So am I.
Letting go of her hands, I touch her face, needing her to open her eyes. “Talk to me, Harper. I want to hear you come.”
She watches my lips and frowns slightly, shaking her head.
Fuck. What did I just do? I slam into her, wanting her to know how much she means to me. “It’s okay, baby.” I kiss her deeply, giving her everything I am. Trying desperately to erase the frown I put on her face.
With everything I’ve got, I thrust and thrust until her body quakes under mine, and all her breath leaves her body. Only then do I let go, ass clenched, my balls pull up and stars burst behind my eyelids. I spill into her, pumping until I’m empty and spent, collapsing in a boneless heap on top of her.
Harper’s gone, riding the high, her body soft and satiated.
Rolling off her, I slide the condom off, and lay it on the wrapper on the floor, careful to keep the mess contained. I’d take it to the bathroom, but I don’t want to leave Harper’s side.
Lifting my arm, I pat my chest. Harper takes the bait and snuggles into my side, resting her head on my shoulder. Bringing her hand up, she traces lazy circles over my Viking compass tattoo—a Vegvisir.
“Why?” She taps my chest, tracing her finger over the lines of the compass.
I lift my head, eyes straining to see what she’s pointing to, like I forgot what my own tattoo looks like. Slowly, I pull my arm from under her head and roll onto my side, facing her.
“Got it when I was sixteen. Saved my pizza delivery money for a year and a half to afford it. Worth every damn penny.”
She glances down again, resuming her exploration with hesitant fingertips. Each stroke is feather light, like she’s afraid she’ll smear the ink if she applies too much pressure.
Flicking her eyes back on my face, she brings her hands between us, and signs with a furrowed brow, “Meaning?” I like that she mouths the words when she signs, it helps me pick up on the language.
“It’s a guide, helps the bearer find his way even during the darkest, stormiest weather. It was a good reminder when I was a kid: life’s shit now, but I’ll get through it.”
Harper moves her hand to my eyebrow, touching the scar at the side. My eyes close and I pull in a deep breath. We’re dancing so close to things I promised I would keep far away from her. How Dad hit me so hard, I flew right into the corner of Mom’s coffee table, and it took eight stiches to patch me back up. Hair never did grow back over the gash, my eyebrow’s split in two on the left side.
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say, my father and I didn’t see eye-to-eye.” I’ve already told her my father’s a prick. She doesn’t need to know more than that.
Stretching her neck, she reaches up and kisses my scar, laying her palm against my cheek. Lips pressed near my temple, her breath is warm, her kiss, tender. Not like a kiss I’ve ever had before. It’s…? Not sure what it is. Caring? Loving?
I cringe at the last thought. There’s no fucking way. She’s too good for me.
Sliding her hand down the side of my face, my stubbled cheeks prickling beneath her gentle fingertips, she touches my neck…shoulder. With the fingernail of her pointer finger, she draws figure eights around the edges of two clock faces, her eyes lifting back to mine. “And these?”
I can’t tell her. But I want to. I know I should tell her.
“Reminders.” I mumble, my stomach churning. Lies are heavy in your gut and leave a bad taste in your mouth, like chowing down on week-old takeout that you find shoved in the back of the fridge. It’s sketchy, but you eat it anyway, because that’s all there is to eat.
My lies are the only way to keep her from knowing the real me, and the bastard I share blood with.
I want to drop the subject, but I know my one-word answer won’t appease her. She wants more…all of me. I want to give you all of me, Harper. But then you won’t want it.
What does a wealthy, smart, fucking gorgeous-as-hell woman like Harper King want with a grease-stained auto mechanic turned musician? She could have the pick of the litter, and here she is, slumming it with me.
“Battles lost. And a war won,” I add, cracking open the door to my past a little wider. One of these days, she’s going to get her foot inside, and throw it wide open, revealing everything about me that I never wanted her to know.
And then she’ll close the door on us.
Shoving the unknown, depressing shit into the dark corners of my mind, I concentrate on the languid figure-eight path she’s still tracing on my chest, her unruly hair moves right under my nose. With each inhalation, a corkscrew curl pushes against my nostril. Exhaling, the curl blows away. I bite back the urge to sneeze, concentrating on the flowery scent of her shampoo.
My pulse has returned to normal, but the more I think about the reasons why I shouldn’t be with Harper, anxiety kicks it back up. Harper’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman, and I didn’t even know I was looking until I saw her at Mississippi Lights that night. She’s so much more than the barflies I’ve hooked up with in the past, she’s not even in the same fucking galaxy.
Tightening my arm around her, Harper shifts, lifting her head. Smiling an easy, satisfied grin, she yawns and continues her lazy trail over my chest.
You’re too good for me, Harper King. You deserve so much more than the trash I come from.
I smile at her, working one of her curls around my index finger. I lied when I said playing a room full of five-year-olds was scary. Holding this amazing woman in my arms is the most frightening thing in the goddamn world.
Harper’s hand stills. Turning her body, she puts both arms on my chest and rests her chin on top of her folded hands. Staring at me she smiles again, but this time, it’s not the smile of a well-pleased woman; there’s mischief and playfulness in her eyes. Biting her lower lip, she draws a line down my c
hest, right smack down the middle. Lifting her finger, she places it next to my left nipple and drags it to the right in a horizontal path. My skin tingles at her touch, goose bumps prickling across my arms and chest.
Her movements are deliberate, repeating the motion again, only with a subtle variation. Letters. She’s drawing letters over my skin.
“T-H-O-R.”
She takes my fucking breath away.
Smiling, I grab her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing the tip of her forefinger.
Stretching her body against mine, she leans up to kiss me, and resumes her spelling on my chest. I could get used to communicating like this, a gorgeous, naked woman writing letters across my body, fuck yeah. My dick twitches his sign of approval.
Concentrating on the feel of each letter and the motion of her finger, it’s easy to pick up what she’s writing: “W-h-a-t u t-h-i-n-k-i-n-g?”
Harper flicks her eyes up to me, awaiting my answer.
“How hot it is when you write on me,” I say.
Pinching her eyebrows together, she looks down, readying her finger on my chest. “H-o-w d-o-t-w-r-i-t-e-s m-e?” Green eyes back on me, she shakes her head, confused.
Laughing, I trail my finger down her back, “U”—I point at her for emphasis, wagging my eyebrows—“h-o-t.” With each letter, my finger travels lower, sliding into the dip of her lower back and grazing the top of her ass cheeks.
Her face is still flushed, but I love that they get a little pinker at my words…or is it my touch? Whatever the cause, I fucking love the effect.
Harper scoots up, draping her body over mine as she reaches for her cell phone lying on the bedside table. Her tits press against me, claiming my dick’s full attention.
Flipping onto her back, oblivious to my now raging hard-on, she unlocks her phone and opens the Notes app, typing.
I watch the words, reading as she types. You think I’m hot?
What the hell kind of question is that? I don’t need a phone to answer that one. I raise a questioning eyebrow and point at my dick. “What do you think, Red?”
She bites her lip and writes some more. Did you…umm…like it?