by K. L. Savage
I pick up the pace and start to jog, excited to see the guy who’s brought so much joy to my life in such a short amount of time. How did I live a month without him in this place?
Slowing, I come to a stop before a waist-high iron gate painted a forest green. The iron work is magnificent with vines and leaves along the top to represent the garden. I unhook the gate and take a step forward, and a massive pink rose in full bloom brushes against my cheek, an elegant caress that reminds me of a feather.
Taking a moment, I turn my head and inhale, closing my eyes as the scent carries my mind to a far away place.
“You came,” Pirate says from my right. “I was worried you didn’t get my note in time.”
“I wouldn’t miss seeing you, even if it’s just for five minutes.” I pluck the pink rose from it’s stem and tuck it behind my ear before wrapping my arms around his lean waist. “How do I look?” I pose, placing my hands under my chin and puckering my lips.
He gives me a sweet smile, staring at me as if I hung the moon for him. He plucks a petal from the rose and skims it across my lips. “Like a woman right out of my dreams. I sure as hell do not deserve someone like you. I haven’t been a good man, a good person, yet, I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to let you go.”
“Were you ever planning on it?” His eyes break away from mine, and I have my answer. “Patrick?”
“I thought about it when I knew I started to have feelings for you. I’m not what you need. You deserve better. I’m not letting you go, okay? I’m in too deep,” he says, brushing his lips across mine once, twice, and then diving in for more.
There’s nothing like the taste of his lips. There isn’t expertise in his movements. There’s uncertainty, and his movements aren’t always smooth, but it's the best kiss I’ve ever had.
“Come here.” He takes my hand and tugs me forward, leading me by roses of all different sizes and colors of yellow, red, and white.
Patrick leads me to a wall covered in thick green leaves. He pushes them apart, and a wooden door appears, almost like out of a fairy tale.
“I didn’t know this was here. How did you find it?”
“A friend,” he says, turning the knob and opening it to reveal a small space, almost like a hidden room, filled with candles and rose petals. There’s another man there, fluffing blankets and pillows. He is wearing the same boring outfit as we are which tells me he is a patient.
“Fuck. Damn. Shit. Whore. Fuck her tits!” the guy randomly blurts and picks up a bottle, placing it in a bucket.
I hope it isn’t alcohol. I’ll have to slap Pirate for it.
“He has Tourette’s. Don’t mind him. He’s kind. He just has no control of his mouth. His name is Loch,” Patrick answers my question out of the side of his mouth.
“Loch, buddy. You did a great job. Remember what I said, you get out of here, and you and your sister have the MC’s protection. You go straight to the clubhouse and tell them I sent you, understand?”
“Pirate fucker!” Loch holds out a hand just as I giggle.
Pirate fucker. Tehe.
“Sorry,” Loch says. “I curse more when I’m stressed out.” Loch’s eyes blink fast, and he covers his lips with his hand to stop himself from saying more.
“It’s okay, man. We all have the thing that makes us, us,” Pirate says. “Thanks for setting this up for me and Sunnie. We won’t be getting a lot of alone time. If anyone asks, you don’t know where we are, okay?”
“You got it.” Loch salutes and bends down as he exits so he doesn’t hit his head on the frame of the door.
“Thanks, Loch.”
“Fuck you. Fuck her in the ass!” Loch turns around, wide eyed and covers his mouth. “I’m sorry. Fuck, fuck, stupid fucker. You’re stupid.” He hits his head and slams the door. The rustling of the bushes outside tell me he is setting everything in place so no one can see the door.
“Aw, that sucks. He shouldn’t have to feel sorry. He can’t help it,” I say, feeling bad for someone who can’t seem to control the urge to spew mouth vomit. I don’t know much about Tourette’s, but I know they don’t have control when it comes to certain things. Some blink a lot, some curse; it’s their nervous tic.
“Yeah, I didn’t take it to heart either,” Patrick says, leading me to the blanket and pillows spread out on the ground. “Careful.” Patrick lifts me just in time before I miss a step I didn’t see.
“Thank you.” I look around again. It’s a room forgotten. The stone is old, and the shape of the space is round instead of square. It’s part of the greenhouse, or it was a long time ago. The roof is clear to allow light in, but right now, all I see are the millions of constellations dotting the night sky. “Wow, Patrick. I didn’t know you were the romantic type.”
He sits down and pulls me down next to him. “Me either. Not until I found something to care about instead of the bottle.” He gathers the waves of my hair and pushes the mane over my shoulder, laying a kiss on the base of my neck. “I wanted alone time with you. The last few days have been torture.”
I settle against his chest and stare at the stars. “I know. Gale really has it out for us.”
“No, she’s just doing her job, but when I want something, nothing is going to stop me. Not even a little old lady.” Ice clinks together as Patrick reaches in the bucket for the bottle, and I slap his wrist, knocking his hand free from grabbing onto it.
I spin around in his lap and wrap my legs around him. “Patrick, you don’t have to drink. I don’t want to drink if you can’t. I can’t believe you’d relapse. I won’t let you. Not for—”
He silences me with a kiss, drowning me in his own toxicity.
“I’m—” I try to pull away but he kisses me again. “Patric—” but he keeps on kissing me. “This is serious—” His tongue wraps around mine, tying my words in a knot so I can’t speak. We’ve gotten really good at this kissing thing. I don’t mind. I can kiss him forever, for as long as he allows. He hums down my throat, and his hands tighten on my waist.
When I first met him, he seemed like the kind of man who didn’t handle things with care. He was brash, rude, and downright unpleasant to be around, but the more the alcoholic left his body, the more I got a glimpse into the man who has been hiding under the possession of alcohol.
He’s been hidden away for far too long because the man he is deserves to be seen by the world.
Patrick takes a breath and leans his forehead against mine. “Thanks for caring, babe. It isn’t wine or anything. It’s sparkling Welch’s grape juice because I know my limits.” His brows draw together, and disappointment drifts in his sails. “It’s hard to believe I have limits. I can’t even drink a glass of wine. I’ll never be able to have a glass of champagne with you to celebrate, something, anything.” He peels off the golden foil on the neck of the bottle and twists the top off. “I can’t ever trust myself. It’s a realization difficult to wrap my head around, the fact that I really have a problem, that I’m a true addict. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. I can’t even remember how I got here.” Patrick grabs two paper cups from behind the bucket, and I notice they are the medicine cups Lundon has the pills in every morning. “These are the only cups I could find. Sorry.” He pours us each a cup, and I take it happily, drinking the juice as if it were freshly squeezed from the finest grapes.
I scoot forward, and my arm tangles with his. “Everything is perfect.” We take a sip at the same time and set our drinks to the side. “I hate how you got here, but I’m glad you did because I would’ve never met you otherwise.”
He wraps my hair around his wrist and tugs me forward. “For some reason, I find that really hard to believe.” He dips his head and licks down my neck and over the healed wound he left from when he bit me. I moan when he nibbles the same place against my neck. “I didn’t set this date up to get frisky. I just wanted to be with you.” Patrick lifts my shirt and grabs hold of my ribcage, trying to compose himself.
His cock is
long and hard, pressing against my clit. I saw a glimpse of that magnificent cock once before, and I’m excited to see that beast again. Maybe I was dreaming when I saw him the first time, but I swear it was ten inches with a vein as thick as a rope. I want to trace it with my tongue and appreciate a sculpture as fine and perfect as Patrick is.
Well, fuck this taking it slow shit because it isn’t working. I rip my shirt over my head and toss it somewhere. I hope it doesn’t catch fire or anything from all the candles. “I want to get frisky. Frisk me, damn it. Frisk!” I grab his hands and lay them on my tits. I’m sure I look unimpressive right now. I’m wearing a plain cotton bra, no underwire because apparently the staff thinks the wire can be used for self-harm.
With a quick flick of his wrist, Patrick rips the flimsy bra off me and licks his lips when he sees I’m bare. The light glow of the candles surrounding us seductively rock, the shadows dancing in love and heat.
His palms are large, and he cups my breasts, bends down, and sucks my nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the tight bead. My hand clenches around his neck, playing with the long strand of his hair as he drifts his way to the other side while pinching the wet bud he just abandoned.
I toss my head back, the abrasions of his rough suckles have my pussy throbbing for more than kissing or second-base.
If we do this, there is no turning back.
We are doing a piss poor job fighting the need for each other, but once we give in, the addiction will be set in our marrow, the core of our bones. There will be no turning back.
But it’s a direction better than the last.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PIRATE
A kiss of her shoulder won’t do.
A touch of her lips isn’t enough.
Her body arching against mine is a temptation I can no longer fight.
I’m drowning in her sinking ship of lust, and I don’t care. I don’t want to be saved. I need more. I have to scratch the itch. I have to give in.
I flip us over, gently laying her head on the pillow, and watch her tits bounce. She’s goddamn beautiful. I massage the flesh and rock against her, moving my hips slowly. There’s a small wet spot on my sweatpants where my cock is dripping with fluid. Another experience I don’t remember having. I’m sure I have, but hey, whiskey dick was my life for a long time.
A virgin, I am not.
A man who feels like a virgin? Maybe.
I’m shaking. I’m nervous. I wish I knew if I was good at this, and maybe I’d have a little more fucking confidence.
“Patrick,” she says my name against lips that are still wet from the grape juice. I bend down and steal a taste, the juice sweeter, as if the grape is still on the damn vine.
She lifts up and whips my shirt over my head, kissing the middle of my chest, then tugs my pants down until my cock bobs free. Her hands move to my cock and pump the angry shaft. “Sunnie!” I hiss, thrusting myself into her tight fist. “Oh, goddamn it, you feel so good.” My entire body is quaking, and her thumbnail dips in the slit, gathering a bead of pre-cum and uses it for lube.
“You’re fucking huge, Patrick. I can’t wait to feel you inside me. I bet you feel like you’re made for me.”
“Fuck yes, I am.” I grab the back of her head and push her toward my cock. “We are made for each other. Every fucked up bits and broken pieces of us. We fit.”
She rubs her soft lips over the crown and traces the brim. My balls pull tight, and the low swirling tingle of an orgasm sticks to the base of my spine. I know I won’t come, but the rush, the static cling across my skin feels so fucking good. I haven’t felt this good since I’d twist a cap off a fresh bottle of rum. This is orgasm enough. I don’t need to come to feel fucking good.
“Your mouth is sin, babe,” I urge her, and she takes me to the back of her throat until she gags and coughs, but she doesn’t stop. She takes me like that over and over again, until tears are streaming down her cheeks and spit is dripping down my heavy sack. “Fuck,” I growl, gripping her hair too hard when I start thrusting my hips, fucking her stretched out mouth. With one final plunge, I yank her off me and rip her sweats off.
“Now, where was I before we got interrupted the other day?” I pick up her legs and place them on my shoulders. Her legs are smooth like porcelain, lean and defined in all the right places. I lick down her inner thigh, taking another hard bite of flesh, and when I pull away, I see my teeth marks. My cock jerks.
I want to do it again.
I kiss her clit and move to the other thigh, suck a big chuck of flesh into my mouth, and then let it go with a pop.
She groans, thrusting her hips into my face, but I ignore her, watching the red spot on her creamy flesh turn a maroon color with busted blood vessels under the skin. Hungry for more, I latch my teeth into her skin, and she cries out in pleasure again.
Sunnie is dripping. Her sweet nectar is pouring out of her like a sieve. Her flower is pink, folds parted, and her clit is engorged waiting for my attention. I’ve been starved for far too long. I’m not gentle. I nurse her clit, wanting more of the honey pooling from her cunt. I groan into her, loving how she tastes.
“Oh, god. Patrick. Oh, god. Yes, that’s good. That’s so good. More. Give me more.”
The way she says my name has as a switch being flipped inside me. I’ve never heard my name fall from a woman’s lips because of pleasure. It isn’t because I wasn’t good at giving it—no, that’s a lie—I was a selfish asshole. I never cared about a woman’s orgasm.
Only mine because I could never seem to reach it.
Maybe tonight is the night. For the first time in ten years, I’ll know what it’s like to be lost in a person instead of alcohol.
I flick my tongue to her hole and thrust inside, showing her how I want to fuck her with my cock. I hold her hips down with my arm as she ruts against my face for more. God, she tastes fucking good.
Better than rum.
Better than the bitterness of guilt.
Sunnie is the reason for me to end this chapter and begin a new one, but I have to give her a reason to want to go on a journey with me. I have to be better, which means, my treatment has to be a priority.
I know. I need to be the reason to get better, but I’m not enough. I needed something to bring me back to life, to breathe air into my lungs, and bring hope.
And I’m tasting her, right now.
“I need you inside me. I need you,” she chants, spreading her legs wider to accommodate me.
I kick off my sweatpants the rest of the way and somehow manage to rip my mouth off her. I glide up her body until I’m hovering over her. She lifts her head and steals a kiss, and I know she can taste herself on my tongue. It doesn’t seem to bother her.
My nerves are starting to get the best of me now. I’m shaking, nearly as bad as when I was in bed in withdrawal. She’s trembling too. Her hand is a warm draft over my cheek as she holds my face to hers as we kiss in languid motions. I reach between us and guide my cock to her entrance, and then I break away from her for a minute.
“You’re going to have to show me how to do this.” Wrong choice of words. I know what I’m doing.
Sunnie flinches, and her sapphire eyes are as big as oceans. “What?”
“I meant, I’ve never done this before.” Fuck, that isn’t right either. “No, I have. I just…”
“What?” She wraps her leg around my hip, and my tip slips inside her warm, tight sheath.
“Oh, damn it,” I grunt and lay my forehead on her chest, holding on to her to keep me from falling apart. “I’ve been with too many people, but I’ve never been with one I care about. You’re going to have to work with me.”
“Me too,” she says, and her admission has me lifting my head and staring up at her through hopeful eyes.
Different pasts. Same outcome.
My lips are against the beat of her heart as I inch my way inside. I squeeze my eyes shut from how fucking good she feels, and we moan in unison when I’m to th
e hilt, my sack nestled against her curvaceous ass.
“Don’t feel heartbroken if you don’t make me come,” she warns. “I haven’t been able to for a long time.”
No fucking way are we that similar.
“Me either. The consequence of chasing the high, but I’m going to tell you right now, if I don’t, it has nothing to do with you, and you are by far the best high I’ve ever felt.” I slide out and thrust back in, gasping from the tightness of her walls around me. I hunch over her, burying my head against her shoulder. My arms tighten around he waist to pull her closer. Her nipples rub against my chest, and her breaths tickle my ear as she moans.
“You’re so goddamn tight,” I grit.
“You’re so goddamn big.” Sunnie’s compliment would have me unloading inside her if I were a normal man. Her hands cup my ass and use my cheeks as support to drive into her harder.
Nothing else matters in this moment.
I’m not a drunk.
I’m not recovering.
I’m just a man.
And it feels so fucking good.
My cock plunges into her delicacy, soft and wet. She clenches around me, making herself tighter, and I trail my hand up her left arm, glide it over her chest, and hold onto her neck with gentle pressure. Sure, I bite, and it’s rough, but nothing violent with my hands, or hers; we aren’t those kinds of people. We’ve had rough.
We’ve had violence.
It’s time for pleasure.
It’s time for the pain to let us go so we can be free.
“Don’t challenge yourself to make me come. I haven’t in ten years,” I say, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Being inside you is more than I could ever want for myself.”
“I’m not. I just want to make you feel good,” she admits.