by Box Set
But Jesus God, she’s stroking my cock and murmuring and shit, and…oh God, I can’t think. I actually—no lie—pull up my torture training. It works for a second. I pull up what I call the blue void—a kind of mental calm blank slate, but then I hear her voice as she murmurs again, and there’s no way my brain or body is buying that Pepper is torturing me. She cups the base and strokes up and passes her thumb over the head through the fabric.
“How can you want me if I mess up!” I blurt, the words now unstuck.
Shit.
“Is that what you believe? That you can’t ever mess up?”
It’s close, but not quite. “I…” I’m mentally groping.
“What does it mean for you to mess up?”
“Disappointment.” And more. Pain.
“In yourself?”
“No. Causing it.”
She’s back to just stroking my thigh, as if she realizes she’d helped dislodge my words and now needs to give me space. “Is that the only emotion you associate with messing up?”
“Rejection. My old man, he’d…he’d punish me if I made mistakes.”
Her hand pauses, and then I have a warm handful of Pepper in my lap. She grips my face and forces me to open my eyes and look at her.
Her eyes are alive with emotion, and I can almost see her placing puzzle pieces together, though what the picture is, I still don’t know. That terrifies me, but I’m also eager to hear it.
“Are you telling me you feel as if you have to perform to a certain standard in order to be loved?” Her soft voice crosses the space between us and soothes that hurt inside.
Yeah. Shit. I had no idea that’s what was inside that messy, messy ball in my chest. It’s cracked open and spilling its poison everywhere, and I realize it’s all colored by my old man. My old man shaped that ball and lodged it inside me. A ball that said I can’t mess up or I won’t succeed. Won’t be accepted. That ball also said I can’t be loved if I mess up.
I’m panting as I stare into her eyes, and I don’t dare turn away. And it’s not lust. It’s fear. That cracked-open ball has left me feeling exposed. My instinct had been right.
She strokes her thumbs over my cheeks and grips my head tighter. “You believe mistakes are a judgment on you. Your worth.” Her forehead wrinkles.
I’m feeling my way with this too, but she’s sifting through that ball, and she’s correctly assessing the situation. I hadn’t looked at it that way before, but why would I?
“We all make mistakes,” she whispers. “When I point them out, I’m not assigning a judgment to them. It’s how you handle a mistake afterward that matters.”
She dips down and softly brushes her mouth across mine, and a rush of arousal swamps me, scouring out the poisonous feelings of inadequacy. I groan and clasp my hands around her waist, deepening the kiss.
In the place where that ball had been lodged, I feel a tentative warmth suffusing me, and I relish it. Every dip of my tongue into her mouth is making another tie with her, stitching us together. I slant my mouth to take more of her in. I can’t get enough, and I smooth my hands up her waist until I’m cupping the soft curves of her breasts.
A door slams nearby, and we jerk apart.
Shit. It’s night time, sure, but Aiden keeps the parking lot lit like a damn football stadium.
She looks at me. “My place.”
“Now,” I say. “My place is closer, though.”
She leaps into her seat, and we both strap in.
Luke
My heart doesn’t calm down in the short drive from the bar to my apartment. At my direction, she pulls into the underground garage accessible from the back, and we wind up a level to the resident slots. I’m reduced to grunts by this point, and I motion to the numbered slot between two pillars.
She pulls in, and I hit the button on my seat belt, which whips back with a smack. I reach over to open the door when the thunk of the locks engaging fills the small space.
What the—?
I glance over at Pepper, and she gives a cat-in-the-cream smile. I never knew what that really meant. I mean, I got what it was supposed to mean, but I’d never really seen it in a person. Until now.
She puts a finger to her lips. “Shh.”
“Pepper…?”
“Luke?” she sing-songs.
She reaches over and brushes her hand just above my waistband, pushing up the hem of my T-shirt. “The way I see it, you feel like you have to perform to get the reward.”
Huh? I’m trying hard to listen, I really am. But all the blood has rushed down to the tiny brain that’s right below her hand, straining for attention. For her attention.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re in a public garage. Anyone could walk by. You’re going to sit there and…” She glances around and snags something from the back seat. “And pretend to read this comic.”
I’m all kinds of puzzled now, because her hand is stroking me, lust and urgency is streaking through me, and she wants me to read a fucking comic?
“In the dark?”
She glances out the back window and then back at me. She punches the button for the overhead light. “No one’s around now. But that can change. You’re going to sit there and read this comic and…”
“And?” I croak. I’m completely and totally at her mercy. Clueless, but at her mercy.
“And I’m going to do this.” She yanks the snaps of my jeans and…shit…she’s…she’s not…
Oh shit. She is. Her hair is brushing against my stomach and her warm mouth is caressing the tip of my cock. “Jesus. Fuck.” I jerk and glance around. “What the fuck. You can’t do this. Not here.”
I look down, and she’s staring up at me with a wicked gleam in her eye. Totally at odds with the prim bun she’s scraped her hair into. “This is for you. Because you’re you. Not because you had to earn it or ask for it.”
“But…”
But what? She’s right, though. I’m mentally flailing because I can’t just let her do this to me without me giving back. I’d be nuts to turn down a blow job though. So I reach over and stroke a finger along the small of her back, which is exposed from her stretching over to my seat. Inch under her waistband.
She pulls her lips from my cock. “Nuh-uh. You’re reading a comic, remember? Both hands on the comic, held in front of you where anyone can see it.”
I stare down at her, completely at her mercy and completely exposed. My breaths are coming in huge gasps, and she purrs. Her tongue darts out and licks the pre-cum from my head. I slam my head back against the headrest. “Fuck.” When the hell did my Pepper become a sex kitten?
My whole body is tight as a wire, and I’m vibrating as if I could explode any minute. Taking in several measured breaths I bring the fucking comic up, and my hands…my hands are goddamn shaking. I can’t tell you what the comic is. It’s just a bunch of colored shapes and black lines and chicken scratch.
Her warm hand fondles my balls, and heat streaks up my back. She’s stripped me bare, I’m not gonna last long, and her mouth is now clasped around me and slowly taking me all in. So hot. So moist. So tight. Her tongue swirls around on the way back up, and she gives the head an extra suck.
I’m shaking all over. My skin flushes hot, the space around me closes in, and I’m clutching that damn comic like it’s the only thing shielding me from an IED. One more deft suck and pull, and that’s it. I’m gushing into her mouth as if it’s my first time, and I’m quivering and gripping the comic, and I can’t do anything but take. Take as she greedily swallows and licks and milks me dry.
Holy fuck.
Chapter Nineteen
Pepper
I hurry onto the landing of Luke’s stairwell. The same one we hurried through together when I thought he was Rick the Lawyer, and I was channeling my new inner sex vixen.
As before, his heat is at my back, but instead of feeling as if I’m testing a new skin, I’m just me. With him. And I’m buzzing with excitement and anticipation and other
emotions I can’t begin to name.
Except…except this is right.
His powerful arm is cinched around my waist, his masculine scent enveloping me. As we turn up the final flight of stairs, I feel a gentle bite on my ear lobe, and his breath tickles my ear with his soft groan. Oh Jesus. I’m already about to crawl out of my skin, I’m so revved up. I don’t know how I knew the way to unearth what the heck was going on inside his head, but I’m glad I followed my instincts. Now I’m on fire for him, my panties damp, my clit throbbing.
I’m still trying to process the relief and joy I feel that our talk brought us to this point, and like the first time at the coffee shop, I feel desperate to shore up the gains we made in our discussion by joining in the most intimate way possible.
At the door, Luke fishes his keys from his jeans pocket, and this time I do angle my head and gently bite the bicep bulging right by my cheek.
Cheengk.
The sound of his dropped keys echo in the empty hallway. He growls and picks them up, and I giggle, which earns me a pinch on the butt. Why did I think fully opening myself up would weaken me? I feel as if I can conquer the world.
I glance up as he works his key into the door. His gaze darts to mine, and a huge grin lights up his face. I think my mouth drops open a little, because he looks several years younger.
“Okay, my sex kitten, wait till I get you inside.” He winks, pushes open the door, and then I’m in the air, his arms cradling me. He bumps through the opening, flicks on the lights, and slams the door shut with his foot. I’m staring up at his face, and he’s looking back with such a hungry but fierce determination that my feet kick in the air, as if it’s some kind of reflex action. I swear my lady parts clench.
Without taking his eyes from mine, he strides through his apartment, and I get a tour of the various ceilings behind his head—pebbly, smooth, back to pebbly… Then the ceiling blurs, and I’m airborne.
Bounce.
The sort-of soft cotton of his bedspread teases my calves and arms, and my body dips toward him a bit as he puts his good knee on the mattress. My gaze tracks up to his jean-clad thigh poised inches from me to linger—oh my. Despite the blow job I just gave him, he’s sporting an impressive bulge behind his Levi 501s.
“Jesus, Pepper. What you do to me.” He grabs himself through the denim and gives a quick tug. Heat flares in my chest and arrows straight down, and I wiggle my legs. Antsy. Desperate.
I bite my lip, hold his gaze, and drag my hand down my stomach. But I don’t even get to the place that aches for him, because the next thing I know I’m sliding across his bed, my skirt riding up my back from the friction, his grip tight on my ankle as he pulls me to the edge of the mattress. His gaze darts all over my body, a physical pressure of heat and power and desire sinking into my skin as it passes and turning into a delicious curl of steam, searing down to my core.
“I have to taste you,” he says, his voice rumbling with a velvety mixture of iron control and need. Which—God—I don’t think I can ever tire of hearing all the nuances his voice might take.
He flips up the front of my pale pink skirt and yanks my panties down to my ankles. I kick them free and open my mouth to say you don’t have to reciprocate, but all that emerges is a moan because he shoves my thighs wide and cool air hits my wet folds. He kneels down, and the rough pad of his finger strokes gently across my clit.
Heat flares down my chest, and I’m all nerve endings. I arch upward, needing more friction, needing more. But Luke’s having none of it—he clamps onto my waist, holding me tight to his mattress with his strong hands, and drags his tongue lightly through my folds.
I buck. “Please.” And then I’m gasping out directions, and he’s sucking and pulling and licking, his mouth on me talented and electrifying. I don’t worry that he’ll think me bossy, or if it’ll turn him off, because I know it won’t. Joy spreads through me at this freedom, and I gasp. “Harder. Shit. Yeah, right there.”
One of his hands leaves my waist, and he presses his thumb across my now-throbbing nub. I writhe. White hot heat coils tighter and tighter, and then I feel his tongue slip into my core. That new freedom is also coiling through me, and I say, “In me. I want you in me when I come.”
He flies off me and dives for his nightstand. Before I can blink, he’s rolled on a condom. He nudges between my legs, and my whole vision is filled with the beautiful expanse of Luke’s broad, muscular chest, his cock jutting upward, thick and hard, and his face set in hard lines. His lids are at half mast, and he falls toward me, landing on his elbows on either side of my shoulders. God—there’s nothing like being in the shelter of a brawny male body. And to have it be Luke’s body?
I whip my legs around his hips, and on a low growl, he thrusts into me so fast and hard that all sensation—all thought—converges to where we’re joined, and I’m whispering, “This, this, this,” as I feel him, thick and full, inside me.
“Pepper.” His eyes are full with wonder and vulnerability.
“Luke,” I say, smiling.
He gives a low chuckle, which I can feel vibrate within me where he fills me so completely. I cradle his face and brush my lips across his, and we’re languidly exploring with our mouths as he pulls out slowly. I clench around him, protesting the departure, and he rams back into me. I thought I wanted it quick and blinding, because it’d be the only way to fill all the feelings ballooning inside me. However, his movements—a reluctant, slow pull away from me followed by a quick, searing return—are working a different kind of magic, a reward for breaking through to the inside of this man. Now I want to keep having him move inside me in this slow-fast rhythm with his hard length, his odd vulnerability. Forever.
I shudder and cling to him, meeting him stroke for stroke, both of us in sync. But no matter how long I want it to last, I can feel my orgasm inexorably building, so intense and powerful, I want to simultaneously wiggle away from it and wiggle closer. The need to meet it head-on has me shaking all over. Something snaps inside him too, because he grips my face, stares into my eyes, and pistons into me faster and faster, saying my name over and over.
My orgasm bursts through me, but somehow I keep my gaze locked on his. His pupils dilate, his muscles tense, and he thrusts into me one more time. He holds himself still, and I can feel him jerk inside me. Suddenly, I’m hit with a need to protect this man from anything and everything outside of this room. It’s a strange feeling, a scary feeling, but I don’t shy away from it. He shudders and falls against me, and I grip him as firmly as I can, running my hand up and down his back.
I relish the weight of him as we both fight for breath, my heart beating in my ears. He rolls over and snugs me against him, his strong hand cradling my head against his chest.
I feel as if we’ve shattered ourselves in multiple ways tonight. Shattered past our fears. Shattered through our barriers that kept the world at a distance. I grip him tighter as I knit my new reality—a reality which includes Luke—into a new shape. I smile.
Luke
If we didn’t have to deal with biology, I’d still be in bed with Pepper, but there’s no food in my house, and her stomach growled when we woke up this morning tangled in each other’s arms. So, yeah, we’re back at the Mocha Cabana. Where it all started.
We sit at a different table and dig into our respective, overpriced breakfast sandwiches and fruit. It might be where it all started, but I couldn’t feel any more different.
Sure, I still know where everyone is. That’s never gonna change. The red mugs are still stupid, though the color is no longer in my face mocking me.
For the first time, I’m completely comfortable in my own skin. I know that, at least with the person sitting across from me, I’m able to be myself. Actually that’s not quite right. Before, I wasn’t quite…present inside me.
I feel an odd lightness, and I can’t pin it down until I realize it’s the absence of a weight that had always been there. This feeling that I needed to prove myself constantly to
be accepted.
I know this isn’t a Get Out of Jail Free card or any kind of bullshit like that. I can’t screw up all over the place with her and expect her to just take it like some doormat.
No. But I’m feeling an odd sense of security that if I do my best, even when I mess up, she’ll be there.
Trust. It’s about trust, which I’d never transferred to a relationship. Before she’d awakened—and her stomach made its presence known—I’d lain in bed holding her, feeling her against me, her sweet scent filling me, and realized that perhaps the pressure for perfection hadn’t allowed me room to feel. She gives me that room.
Which has me thinking further. “Your idea was a good one.”
“Oh, yeah?” She smiles and lifts a cut strawberry, motioning toward my mouth. I part my lips, heart pounding, and she slips it inside. Before her fingers can escape, I give them a quick swipe with my tongue and a wickedly hot spark flares in her eyes.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Finding a hockey goalie. We were too caught up in wanting to be the best. We let perfection be the enemy of the good. So what if the new guy can’t slot in with the same level of familiarity and trust we’d worked so hard to hone.”
Her smile lights me up. “At least you’ll get to go as a team to the playoffs.”
“Exactly.” We talk about how we can put out the call for a goalie among the ice hockey, field hockey, and lacrosse circuit. The check comes, and I hand over my card. “You know what my nickname for you was back in high school?”
“Oh God, what?” She chuckles.
“Hot Pepper.” And I tell her how I’d fantasized about asking her out.
She wrinkles her nose. “I always hated my name.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t see myself as spicy, or I didn’t want to, I guess. Especially once I got to med school—”