“Fuck, baby, that’s too good,” he rasped.
No such thing as too good. Especially not if it got me what I needed—and this was having the desired effect, so I had no intention of changing what I was doing.
But then something…shifted, I supposed was the right word. I couldn’t be sure what, exactly, but he released my hair and ran his hands over my body while I continued to work him over. My neck. My back. The dip of my shoulder. My breasts. His touch was firm but gentle, just like always, exploratory yet knowing at once. His fingers grazed my nipples, which were already taut and peaked.
I shuddered, my moan a strangled whimper over his length.
A few more touches like that, and I’d lose whatever control I might have over the situation—I’d become his to mold and do with as he would. A dangerous thought. I refocused my energy on driving him mad with need, but too late.
Drew backed away, one hand cupping my cheek, the other putting firm pressure on my shoulder. “Lie down for me,” he said, his voice gruff with need.
I didn’t want to do that yet unless he planned to climb on top of me and screw me into oblivion. But I did what I was told—a bad habit that I intended to figure out how to break one of these days. Then again, the one time I’d broken it, I’d probably made the biggest mistake of my life. Maybe I should keep doing what I was told and forget about trying to rebel. Was twenty-three too old to be rebellious? I wasn’t sure.
When he kneeled between my legs and lowered his mouth to the space between my thighs, all thoughts raced out of my head like a Kenyan marathoner in the Summer Games.
I still didn’t have any clue about his skill with his dick, but the man could compete in the Cunnilingus World Championships and probably come away with the win. He shifted my body around, drawing my thighs up over his shoulders so he could perform his magic. When he worked a couple of fingers inside me while his tongue flicked over my clit, it was all I could do not to leap off the bed. My breaths came in sharp, whimpering bursts, and I white-knuckled the blankets beneath me with both hands.
He sucked the barbell between his lips and held it there while he lashed my clit with his tongue, over and over again. All the while, he kept curling his fingers up inside me, brushing them against my G-spot.
And then I cried out, erupting into climax as my toes curled in toward his shoulder blades and the rest of my bones went limp. But still, he didn’t stop. Yeah, I was a goner. I only hoped he kept going with the sexcapades and didn’t decide it was time for a good ol’ talk.
After an orgasm like that, I wasn’t sure I could handle another right away. When I’d gotten my piercings, I’d meant it to heighten my sensitivity. When I’d been with Jax, I’d always assumed the reason I rarely reached orgasm was my body’s slow build combined with his inability to care about my pleasure in his drugged-out state—or his inability to keep it up, also due to his drugged-out state—and so I’d decided to take matters into my own hands as often as possible. The piercings had certainly helped, and I found myself in a sexual state of nirvana when we were together at least occasionally. It happened a lot more often when I was alone than when I was with him, but at least it sometimes happened when I was with him. But I would never have assumed myself to be multi-orgasmic. Not in a million years.
Drew took away all my doubts on that score, not allowing me to come down too far from my initial crest before building me up for the next one. Maybe the problem hadn’t been my lack of sensitivity, after all, although I wouldn’t complain about the enhancements now. Not when I was reaching heights I’d never imagined possible.
By the time he finally crawled up my body with a shit-eating grin, he had me on the verge of a second powerful climax. Seriously, two or three good thrusts, and I’d explode again. I was starting to think my decision to come home with him had been a good one, after all, even if on the surface it seemed like I was being stupid.
Drew tore open the wrapper to the condom and unrolled it over his length before settling his hips between my thighs. He reached between us to fit himself to my entrance, and I drew up my knees so I could take him deep.
We both moaned in sync as he filled me. Then he stilled for a moment, both of us taking some time to adjust to the sensation.
“You’re so damn tight,” he said.
I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. His brows were drawn together, creasing his forehead in concentration, like he was still trying to hold himself back.
“Fuck me,” I begged, sure that now he would finally forget all about his efforts to take things slow, to treat me gently.
But he didn’t. He kept staring down at me, those brown eyes probing me and forcing me to look away. I ground my hips against him, raised my legs higher to take him deeper, raked my nails over his ass, and drew him closer. Everything I did was meant to drive him out of his mind with need. None of it mattered. The only one out of their mind was me, and that was nothing new.
When he finally moved, it wasn’t in the way I wanted or expected. Instead of drawing back to thrust home repeatedly, he shifted his angle, crawling up my body so his pelvic bone was positioned immediately over my clit. Then he rocked back and forth, grinding against me. He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me, his tongue swirling lazily around mine, his teeth taking small nibbles out of my lips until I broke into a thousand pieces, stars shattering behind my eyes. It was more exquisite than anything I’d ever felt—and more intimate than I could afford.
But damn if I could do anything to stop him from breaking me. Not right now. All I could do was bask in the reverent way he touched me and try my best not to lose any of the pieces of my heart he had chipped free. Maybe later I could glue myself back together again. Sometime when he wasn’t trying to stare his way into my soul and kiss his way into my heart.
My body was still tremoring from my latest climax when he buried his face against my neck, pressed himself deep, and went still, an erotic groan tickling my ear.
Both of us breathing hard and covered in a sheen of sweat, we lay like that for a few moments. I pressed my eyes closed, determined not to lose myself in what had just happened. It was sex. Nothing more.
But then he pressed a soft kiss to the spot just behind my ear and rolled off me, dragging me back against him as though to spoon with me.
Cuddling was not part of the deal.
I eased myself out of his arms and off the bed.
“Not yet,” he complained, reaching for me.
There wasn’t a chance in hell I would let him drag me back into his embrace right now. Not while my hormones were going haywire like this. “Bathroom. Have to pee,” I muttered before rushing in there. Which, admittedly, I did need to pee. Besides, it was only smart, if I wanted to avoid yet another UTI. That was true for all women, whether they had HIV or not, and he didn’t need to know that there was more to my rushing off than that. Since he was HIV-positive, too, he probably knew I had the potential of being more prone to them than the average healthy woman, anyway, so we could just leave it at that.
Once I was alone, I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the closed door and tried to gather my wits.
Just sex. That was all it was. That was all it could be, even if this guy seemed determined to make it more. I took a few deep breaths and straightened away from the door, then took care of my business. I found a clean washcloth and cleaned myself up some and washed my hands when I was finished.
When I went back into his bedroom, Drew was sitting up in his bed, still naked and looking like absolute perfection. He’d disposed of the condom, but he didn’t look like he was in any big hurry to do anything else.
He grinned at me—slow and sexy and natural—and he patted the spot next to him, encouraging me to sit next to him. “I was starting to think you’d fallen in.”
If I joined him, would he try to snuggle with me again? I couldn’t rule it out, and I couldn’t let it happen. I shrugged. “Just needed a minute. Girl stuff.” Then I bent to the floor to pick up my
clothes.
“You have somewhere you have to be?” he asked. Damn if he didn’t sound disappointed, too.
“Not right away, but I’ve got to work later, and I need to run a few errands beforehand.” Which was a complete and total lie. Rick’s entire shop was closed on Tuesdays, and I took Wednesdays off, too. The only thing I needed to do was get away from Drew.
“Damn,” he said. “Do you have time for me to make you lunch? Or we could go out somewhere. I could—”
“You don’t have to feed me,” I cut in. “We already went over that. This was just about sex. Nothing more. You don’t owe me anything for a fuck. It was given of my own free will.” I didn’t even attempt to hide my aggravation.
“All right.” He sounded hurt, damn it all. But he got up and started gathering his clothes off the floor, too.
I turned around to slip into my panties and bra, not because I was feeling shy or anything like that but because I couldn’t deal with the way he was still looking at me. Like he wanted to fix me or some shit. The sooner he understood I wasn’t fixable, the better off he’d be. But once he got me back to my car, I probably wouldn’t ever have to worry about it again. I’d gone to that stupid meeting and my form was signed for my doctor. I could take it back and tell him that I wouldn’t be returning, so he’d have to come up with some other option. Not that I had a clue what it was, but whether I could deal with the group therapy or not, there was no chance I could handle facing Drew again.
He wanted to undo me. I could feel it. The problem was, I’d already been broken apart so many times there wouldn’t be any chance of putting me back together again before too long. I was a regular ol’ Humpty Dumpty in ink and dreads, and Drew was only a single guy, not a whole slew of horses and men.
I slipped my tank top over my head and eased into my shorts, trying not to let myself think too hard. About anything. By the time I had my shoes on again, Drew was fully dressed.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So you want me to take you back to your car, then?”
I nodded. Didn’t trust my voice right now. The way he had been treating me since we’d first met was doing crazy things to me, and I didn’t think I could hold it together if I started talking.
The whole way back to the community center, we were both silent. There wasn’t anything to say, as far as I was concerned.
“You coming back next week?” he asked as he turned into the parking lot. I didn’t miss the fact that his voice cracked a bit over the words. I shot my gaze over to him, trying to figure out what he was upset about, but I couldn’t read anything in his expression.
I shrugged. “Maybe. Not sure yet.”
“You should. Why don’t you give me your number? I could come and pick you up.”
Make sure I came—and stayed—more like. “That’s my car over there,” I said in response, pointing to my beat-up Ford that was as old as I was. But at least it ran.
“I remember.” He pulled into the spot next to it and put his car in park. “Is that your way of telling me to fuck off and leave you alone?”
Yes. But I had to admit, I felt like a bitch for it. My mouth was half-open, the words on my tongue refusing to come out, when I saw that pregnant London chick wheeling out of the front doors of the community center like she was in a wheelchair race. “What…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, but I pointed to send Drew’s attention in her direction.
A couple of other people rushed out of the building behind her, but she didn’t slow down, making a beeline for one of the cars parked in a handicapped spot out front.
Drew’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What the fuck?” he shouted, throwing his car door open and rushing over to find out what was going on.
I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I followed him, running almost as fast.
“She’s in labor,” a woman called out across the parking lot.
London had jerked open the door to the car and was trying to transfer her very pregnant body inside the driver’s seat.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Drew growled at her.
“Going to the hospital. Water broke.”
He sighed and turned to the other people who’d followed her out of the building. “I’ve got this. You guys can get back to work.”
“You sure?” the woman asked, looking wary.
He nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it. Not at all. “Well, how far apart are the contractions?” he demanded.
“Hell if I know.” She had forgotten to use the brake on her chair, and it was moving too much for her to complete the transfer. I grabbed hold of the handles in the back to hold it steady so she wouldn’t go careening across the parking lot. She didn’t even spare me a glance. “I can’t feel much down there, in case you forgot.”
Drew rolled his eyes and moved to block her from getting in the car. “You can’t drive yourself to the hospital while you’re in labor.”
“Get the hell out of my way, Nash,” she bit off.
“If I let you do this, Dima’ll kill me. Come on. Let’s go back inside, and we can call Dima and an ambulance—”
“I might not have time for Dima or an ambulance.” She tried to back her chair up, but I was in the way. I flashed wide eyes at Drew, not sure what to do, but he didn’t even spare me a glance. His focus was squarely on London, and hers on him. And…well…I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the glare London was sending his way. “My doctor told me to get to the hospital as soon as I knew I was in labor. That’s what I’m doing. So unless you want me to run you over, I’d suggest you move your ass.”
“How about we compromise?” he replied, leaving me in awe of the fact that he was able to keep his cool in a situation like this.
“What kind of compromise?”
“We go right now, but we leave your car here and you let me drive you.”
She hesitated, so I assumed that meant she was at least thinking about it. That was a good sign. I agreed that she needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible—a lesson I’d learned the hard way. But I’d also learned the hard way that I couldn’t drive myself while in labor. Add in the fact that she was in a wheelchair, and she might as well have a neon sign flashing Hell to the no at her.
“Where are we going to put my chair in your stupid little two-seater?” she demanded.
“In my car,” I said before I could think better of it.
Both Drew and London shot surprised looks in my direction.
“I’ll follow you and I’ll bring your wheelchair. But he’s right. You have to let someone else drive you.”
“Come on,” Drew said, trying to force us both backward so he could close the car door. Surprisingly, London allowed it. “You can call Dima on the way. Which hospital are we going to?”
“Hillcrest.”
“Got it. Meet us there,” he said to me, looking at me until I nodded my understanding.
Hillcrest. How on earth could I walk in there? I hadn’t been back since… No, I couldn’t let myself think like that. Not right now. It’d only make me cry, and I couldn’t very well drive if I was crying.
Instead of letting her transfer herself into his car, Drew picked her up and put her in. She rolled down the window and shouted directions to me about how to dismantle the thing so I could get it in my car. She was still shouting as he pulled out, but at least I’d heard enough to figure out how to take the wheels off.
A minute or two later, I had the various parts of her chair tossed in my backseat, and I was heading toward the very same hospital where I’d surrendered my son.
“TOOK TOO SLOW, mudak,” Dima growled at me as soon as he threw open the passenger door of my car. He’d been at home when London called. Their house was closer to the hospital than the community center was, so he was there and waiting for our arrival by the time I squealed to a stop in the women’s center drive, an orderly with a wheelchair at his side, and a combination of fear and excitement making his heavy Russian accent eve
n more undecipherable than normal.
I was fairly certain he meant that I’d taken too long, even though I’d made the twenty-minute drive in less than fifteen, but I gave him a pass since he was a nervous, expectant father.
He didn’t mess around with waiting for me to respond, unfastening London’s seat belt and lifting her out of the car to a chorus of curses coming from her mouth. Let’s just say she wasn’t a fan of the fact that he and I had both decided to take matters into our own hands instead of letting her take care of herself.
Then another guy came up to us—I recognized him from London’s sled hockey team—and tried to help, too.
“I’m fucking pregnant and in labor, not dying. All of you just stop.”
“Why you’re here?” Dima demanded of London’s teammate.
“Because she’s having a fucking baby,” the guy bit off.
“And I’m going to have it right here if you two don’t stop with your pissing contest and get me inside. Goddamn fucking macho jerks. The both of you! Wade’s my friend. Dima’s my husband. Both of you need to fucking deal with it.”
I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at her infuriated litany. Once she was properly settled in the hospital’s wheelchair, I reached across and pulled the door closed so I could find somewhere to park. I might have been a miserable friend at their wedding, but I was almost positive I’d made up for it just now.
The three of them headed inside, still arguing.
On my way inside, I passed Ravyn trying to reassemble London’s wheelchair behind her car. She didn’t seem to be having much luck, either, since she had plopped down on her ass on the hot concrete and was working on tying her dreads behind her head with a bandana, an adorable scowl creasing her brow. Never would’ve thought I’d find her adorable, especially after she all but gave me the brush-off after we’d essentially used each other for sex—insanely good sex, I might add—but it appeared I had no control over my attraction to her. Not a good sign for me since she didn’t want anything more than a hookup.
Rites of Passage Page 5