by Peach, Hanna
Then he smiles at me as if I’ve just told him a joke. “Sorry, honey. I’m telling you now, I’d be bad for you. You don’t want to mess around with me. I just thought I’d do my moral duty and help out.”
I bristle. “I don’t need saving.”
“I was talking about him. He was about to get his balls kicked up into his head.”
He leans in so that he’s only inches away, so close I catch my first smell of him. Musky and manly with a hint of wood smoke underneath. I want to bury my body into his and push my face into his chest and just inhale him in, long and deep. Musk and wood smoke. For some reason it makes me feel… safe. This feeling washes over me as his scent does and my limbs feel warm. It startles me. Safe is not something that I remember feeling in a long time.
He speaks low. “Why do you do this to yourself? Are you happy with what you’ve become?”
“W-what? What the hell are you talking about?”
Only then does his gaze leave my eyes to give me a long, languid once-over. It isn’t the kind of look that I’m used to. It doesn’t rip at my clothes or grab at my skin. No. This look caresses my body like a tender kiss. And I am stripped until my wretched soul is left with nothing to cover it.
I swallow. I stand up straight and lift my chin a little higher. But my fingers are fiddling with the hem of my dress. Suddenly I’m not feeling so comfortable in my skin-tight mini dress and black patent leather sky-high come-fuck-me heels. What felt like armor, now feels cheap and flimsy.
He looks back up to meet my gaze. When I catch the sadness in his eyes I flush. When he speaks there is no trace of anger left in his voice. “You’re so much more than this. You just need someone to remind you.”
He turns without another word and starts to push through the throng of bodies. For a second I’m so stunned I can’t move.
Bastard. How dare he? Don’t you dare go after him.
But my heart is beating in protest as I watch him leave, taking my safety with him. I must have that feeling again. I must. He has tied himself to something deep inside me that remembers who I am. It remembers all of what I am. The good parts, the worthy parts, the parts of me that are more than this parade I put on for the world. “You’re so much more than this. You just need someone to remind you.” I want someone to remind me. I want him to remind me.
The fight is won. I go after him.
I can’t see him as I elbow my way through the crowd. Move. Move! Can’t you see I have to get to him? Where is he? Has he left already? What if I’ve already lost this chance?
Then I catch a glimpse of him stopped up ahead at the coat check, and it renews my hope. I yell at him to stop, but he can’t hear me over the noise of the music. No one can. These arms all feel like they are conspiring to hold me back as I struggle and shove my way through the thick forest of bodies. I watch helplessly as he turns from the coat check and disappears through the club doors. I push and scramble my way through with renewed vigor.
Finally I pull free. I burst through the club doors and scan the lot in front of me. A cool night breeze teases at my hair, but I ignore it. Where is he? Oh God. I lost him.
But then I see his tall figure striding across the half-empty car park. A brown leather jacket now covers his frame, but I swear his body is so familiar to me already that I could always recognize him without needing to see his face.
“Hey! You!” I yell as I stride as fast as I can in my heels.
He just ignores me and keeps walking. Bastard. How dare he. Men don’t ignore me. I snatch off my heels so that I can run faster.
His strong legs are long, and he is halfway across the parking lot before I even get close to him. I am still yelling at him to stop, and he is still ignoring me. When I’m close enough I throw one of my heels at him to get his attention. It clips him on the skull and bounces to the ground.
He turns suddenly. “What the hell?”
I pull up short a few steps from him. “How dare you? Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that?”
He growls as he rubs his head and I am reminded of an angry bear. I take a small step back.
“Shit,” he mutters. “I knew I shouldn’t have come near you.”
“But you did. And you saved me from that creep and you made him apologize to me, which was probably the sweetest thing anyone has done for me in a long time, but then you said the most awful things… and… and now you’re just walking off. What the fuck?”
“I’ve seen you in there more than once. You come in alone, each time with a different dress on, but each dress has the same M.O. Up to your ass and showing so much cleavage that you could catch flies with it. And boy do you do catch some flies.” His face twists in disgust and I flush with shame.
He thinks I’m a slut. Normally I wear that badge with honor. Yeah, I can fuck like a man. If that makes me a slut, so what? But now, I involuntarily pull down the hem of my dress, then curse myself for doing so.
“So I dress like this. So what? I don’t ever get any complaints.”
“Of course they don’t complain. They’re getting exactly what they want from you.”
I swallow. Yes, the men I fuck are using me, but I’m using them, too. Aren’t I?
“I’m an adult. I can… do what I want.” But my voice sounds smaller to my own ears. I fight back a prickle behind my lids.
He sighs and the hardness slips from his face a little. “Is this really what you want for yourself? Really?”
Through his eyes I’m not sure anymore whether I like what I see. It makes me tremble inside and threatens to blow the lid on my whole sanity. What do I do now? I need some sort of answer.
I must get closer to him. I let my other heel slip to the ground and I take a few steps forward cautiously, ignoring the stab of loose gravel under my feet, closing the gap between us. He watches me warily, and I’m reminded of approaching a wild animal. Don’t make any sudden moves. Don’t startle him.
When I get close enough to smell him the feeling of safety encases me again, and I know, whatever happens, I can’t let him get away. I need this. I need him. I take a final step so we stand face to face.
“You said I just needed to be reminded. You could remind me.”
I lift my palms towards him to get my first feel of his wide chest. But he grabs my wrists before I can touch him and pins them to my sides. It is our first touch and it makes me feel lightheaded and numb, and I revel in it. Our eyes feel like they have fused to each other. In any other circumstance I would have pouted or licked my lips or heaved out my breasts. But none of these things feel right. With him, I feel real.
“You’re right,” I say. I’m surprised at how shaky my voice is, but I keep going. “I don’t like who I am. But I don’t know how to be anything else. You can’t just leave me like this. Please… don’t leave me like this.”
“I wouldn’t be good for you.”
“You said that already.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
His lips purse and he looks pained all of a sudden. I get the urge to take his bottom lip between my teeth and suck. But I don’t. I don’t move.
“I have rules,” he says.
“I’m very good at following rules.”
Under the fierceness in his eyes I detect a hint of amusement. “Do you really want to get involved with me, kitten?”
Kitten. As in, I am a kitten and he is a lion. And if I get involved, he will eat me up. Dear God, I want to be eaten up by him.
He steps closer, but he doesn’t let go of my wrists. He’s holding me gently but firmly and I can feel the strength in his hands. For some reason being pinned by him relaxes me. It is like Valium and I am already addicted.
He bends his head down and rubs his lips across my cheekbone, starting from near my nose and along to my ear. Dear God. How can a man so rough looking have lips that soft?
“Should I take your silence as a no?” His voice sinks into my skin like a bite, sendi
ng heat into my blood.
I have to close my eyes. His size and his smell and his touch and his voice are crowding all my senses. He feels like he is everywhere around me, promising to possess me completely. But it’s not enough. My lower belly clenches with a fierce ache. I have to have this man inside me. I need it like I need my next breath.
“So what’ll it be, kitten?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’m saying yes.”
As he moves a little closer, his body presses lightly against mine. We are barely touching, but the heat rolling off him is enough to make my insides shake. I need to be possessed by him.
“Okay, kitten. We start now. You can tell all your little boyfriends that they can fuck off. No more sex with strangers. No other men. Or you’ll never see or hear from me again. Is that clear?”
I should be raging at his sheer arrogance and his insistence at exclusivity. I don’t do exclusivity. Except, why do I want to do it with him?
Then I realize why. It’s him. He is different. And this, this demand is different. I can feel it. It is not for his benefit, but for mine. Not for his pleasure, but for mine.
He pulls back and his eyes are hardened like bottled glass. “I said. Is. That. Clear.”
I nod, my throat too constricted with lust to speak. If he can reduce me to a quivering mess with only his voice, just imagine what he could do with… his fingers... his tongue… his…
He steps back with one foot so that our bodies open apart like they are hinged. Cold air rushes in where he was standing. I feel the tips of his fingers settle between my shoulder blades. “I’m taking you home.”
Yes. I am ready. I am so ready for this man and whatever rules or lessons he has planned for me.
He pushes me forward, directing me by the light touch on my back. The confidence with which he leads me, the way he directs me through the lot tells me he knows how to be in control. It promises me that if I let him lead me, he will show me numbing, blissful, submissive pleasure like I have never known. I allow him to walk me wordlessly through the parking lot, getting wetter with each step.
He stops me aside a motorcycle, big and beastly and chrome.
“You’re taking me home on that? Without a helmet?”
“It’s not actually required by law here to wear one. But I promise I’ll drive slowly and carefully,” he adds with a little smile.
I stare at the machine for a moment longer. “It looks like it bites.” I have never ridden a motorbike. They’ve always been too dangerous in my mind. And I know the statistics of motorbike accidents.
He laughs. “The bike isn’t what you need to worry about.”
He takes his fingers from me. Immediately I feel unbalanced. I wish he would touch me again. When I turn back to him he is holding out my heels by the straps. He had picked up my discarded shoes for me. I blink several times before I take them off him and clutch at them with one hand. I am mesmerized by his sure yet graceful movements as he shrugs his brown leather jacket off those powerful shoulders. Sweet Jesus, could this man get any sexier?
He holds out his jacket. “Put this on. You’ll get cold on the way home.”
“But what about you?”
He shrugs and says nothing, still holding out the jacket.
I take it from him. Suddenly I feel a prickle at my jaw. God dammit. This man does one nice thing for me and I am getting weepy. Have I been so devoid of simple kindness lately that this one little action has almost reduced me to tears?
A deep sadness fills me like rust-colored water into an empty glass vase when I realize the answer is yes.
I turn my back to him and slip on the jacket, transferring my heels from hand to hand. The inside of it is warm, and his scent brushes up my neck to my nose in a soft caress. God, I could lose myself in his smell and this warmth. I almost believe that this jacket is bulletproof.
He straddles the motorbike and it seems to sigh under him. He knocks back the kickstand with his heel and runs his fingers across the controls on the handlebar. The motorbike growls to life under him like a waking lion. Holding one handlebar to keep it steady, he turns to look at me.
“Get on.”
My limbs work of their own volition, moving me towards him like a ship returning to harbor. Before I realize what is happening I am seated on the bike in front of him, fitting in the space between his legs. Once again the feeling of security and safety falls over me. Nothing can touch me while I’m with this man. He is my titanium shield.
I can feel the length of his hard, muscled body as I gently lean back into him. His arm reaches around me and holds the other handlebar, and this feeling of safety is complete.
He revs the engine and pulls out of the parking lot into the Saturday late-night traffic, following my directions towards my place.
He is true to his word. He rides slowly and carefully. I lean back into him and my head falls so comfortably into the crook of his neck. I close my eyes and just breathe as the wind whips around us, and the rumble of the engine causes all my muscles to relax. Within this rush of air I sit balanced, calm, at peace, like the eye of a storm. Even though we are only touching the earth through two precarious points of the tires beneath us, I feel like I could fall asleep here in his arms.
A thought forces its way into my peace. What kind of voodoo is this? And… can I trust it?
He pulls into my driveway before I realize how far we’ve come and shuts off the motorbike’s engine. His boots tap down on the ground and I follow suit. I feel the loss of his body heat as he lifts himself off the seat behind me. He holds out a hand and I take it. The skin on my palm sears and crackles where he touches me as he helps me off the bike. The heat dances like fireflies through my body. Instantly I’m awake and I feel like I wouldn’t need to sleep for days. I’m caught in his gaze and I can’t help but just stare. He nods at something behind me. What is it?
Oh. The front door. Right.
I try to compose myself as I pull the key out of the small bag slung over my body. I unlock the door. I almost fall in after it when he reaches past me to push it open for me. My heart is thudding in my ears and my throat is dry as I walk up the stairs, heels still clutched in one hand. Feeling his presence behind me and his eyes on my legs makes me dizzy. I have to concentrate on each step.
What the hell is wrong with me? I have slept with good looking men before, but none of them has made me so damn… new and awkward like this.
On the landing I take the last few shaky steps towards my apartment door. And suddenly my door threshold seems to hold much more meaning than before. If we cross this threshold, if I let him come in... what will this mean? I haven’t let a man into this apartment before. Am I really about to do this?
Yes, I want to. I haven’t wanted to let a man in until now. I realize, I haven’t let a man into my private space since… five years ago. Since… Jacob. My stomach tightens. I try to push images of Jacob’s face away. But they disappear of their own accord when I feel his fingers brush at my hair from behind me. And all I can think about is this beautiful man and how right it will feel to get very, very naked with him. Every second without him inside me, every inch of air between our bodies is a tragedy.
I slip my key into my front door and take a deep, calming breath. It almost works until he presses right up against my back. God, the heat rolling off him is burning me. And I love it. I want more.
“Don’t move,” he says, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Don’t move. Even if I wanted to move, I don’t think I could.
I feel his nose press lightly into my hair and I hear him inhale. He is smelling me, taking me in. At the same time, I breathe him in through the scent of him all around me from his jacket. This feels stunningly intimate. More intimate than being naked.
His fingers trail up my arms and they burn, even through the thickness of the leather. His hands run up my shoulders then trail towards the skin at the base of my neck. I suck in my next breath. I am already a hot, dirty mess inside and I am aching to suc
k those fingers up into my mouth.
His fingers curl into the collar of his jacket and continue to trace my skin. In one liquid movement he pulls the jacket off my shoulders. I shiver internally. He’s going to strip me right outside my door. And I am going to let him. Suddenly there is no question whether or not I will let him inside. He has already found his way in.
His fingers brush aside my hair and drape it down over one shoulder leaving the other side of my neck and shoulder exposed. He grips the front of my throat with his large hand. The choke is firm but gentle and I can feel my pulse beating against his palm.
His lips find the back of my neck. First in a soft teasing kiss which I feel as tingles in the tips of my fingers. Then his lips part and I feel his wet tongue press against my skin as his hand tightens around my neck. I feel this kiss deep in my aching insides. My back arches and my ass presses into his hips where I feel his hardness through his jeans. A noise like a pleading groan slips out from my mouth.
He pulls his lips off me and moves my hair so it falls down my back.
“Be good, kitten. I’ll be in touch.” And he releases me and walks to the stairs.
I am so stunned that all I can do for about two seconds is gape. And I feel the itchy fear clinging to me again like static. I realize it had disappeared completely just by being near him. I stare wide-eyed at this man who is disappearing down my stairs. No one has been able to take away my emptiness like this. No one.
And… he didn’t ask to come inside. What? Why? I catch one last look from him before he disappears down the stairwell. Then I realize I’m still holding my key in the door. I let go. I drop my heels and run down the stairs after him. He can’t go.
The concrete stairs are cold under my feet, but I barely notice. It strikes me that I am running after him again.
I catch up to him at the ground floor just as he’s stepping outside, door closing behind him.
I rush out after him. “Wait? You’re just leaving me here?”
“Consider this rule number one,” he calls over his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop walking away.
A rule. This causes an instinctive flare of defiance in me. I almost retort back, but as I watch him straddle that bike with his thick powerful legs my mind imagines how he would use those legs to drive into me and I forget to breathe.