by Haley Jenner
“You’re sore,” he gruffs out, the irritation in his statement clear enough and I suppress a giggle.
That thaws him, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. It’s nice to see how often his genuine smile comes on when we’re together. I dislike the forced smirk, the calculated grin that he uses as a weapon.
“Get some sleep, I’m fuckin’ shattered.” He arches away from my body, switching off the dimly lit lamp, before settling back into the exact same position.
As much as my mind is flickering through thoughts at the speed of light, sleep finds me easy enough. Lulling my body into a delicious sense of unconscious, wrapped around Parker’s hard body.
I wake before Parker, my body stirring into consciousness in the most pleasant of ways; his hard frame pressed tightly against the entire line of my back, knees bent into mine, his hardness pressed firmly into my backside.
I wiggle backward and he twitches against me, his rough groan vibrating against the skin of my neck. He pushes forward, wedging himself into the line of my ass, a deep growl escaping his throat.
I’m no longer sore. Tender, sure, but I don’t ache. Not in pain, not like I did last night, anyway. I ache, but in an entirely different way. A way that courses over my skin, sending a throb to the apex of my thighs.
“Sugar,” he speaks, face still planted into my neck, his voice rough and cracked in sleep. He doesn’t say anything more; the question, the plea in his tone obvious enough.
“Please,” I beg, the sound a breathy whimper of need.
I lose him at my back for a moment, listening as he rustles through his belongings, discarded by my bed.
I hear the sound of foil wrapping, a sound I only heard for the first time last night, but know I’ll never forget.
He’s glued himself against my back again before I can take a full breath. His knee pushes up, granting him better access to where he craves to be.
Where I crave him to be. He slides himself along the length of my center; once, twice, three times, making me wriggle back into him farther, needing more.
“Parker. Please.”
He groans. “Fuck, sound of you beggin’ for it is better than your laugh.”
Lining his thick head at my entrance, he pushes in, only to withdraw again. I chase him backward, my back arching to a point of pain. I feel his smile against my neck, enjoying teasing me.
He does it again, his soft bark of laughter morphing into a pained groan as he withdraws.
“Beg for it, sweet, innocent, Codi. Tell your man what you need.”
My sex spasms at the sound of his roughly spoken demand.
“You. Inside me.”
He tsks. “Say it, baby. Say your cock, Parker. Let me hear those sweet-as-sin lips turn dirty.”
I whimper and his large palm grasps my hip almost painfully.
“I want your cock, Parker,” I obey, not recognizing the deep agonized need of my own voice. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”
The please did it. He bites down on my neck the same time his head penetrates, only this time he doesn’t pull out, he continues forward, stretching me.
I roll my hips slowly against the tenderness the unhurried drive of him causes inside of my body.
“See, fucking is so good, Sugar, because it can be slow,” he pauses, burying himself completely. “It can be fast,” he echoes the sentiment with a quick retract from my body, rushing forward again. “It can be hard…” He pulls out, stilling for a single breath before slamming himself into me, hard, making me cry out. Loudly. Desperately. He kisses my neck, sliding back out. “It can be soft…” He slowly pushes inside again. “Whatever way you fuck, it feels so. Fucking. Good.”
I moan in agreement as the arm buried under my head reaches down, pinching my nipple.
He fucks me slow and hard, his hips moving with an almost lazy drag, but slamming back inside me, causing my body to jerk and boobs to bounce.
It’s exquisite. My bent legs push together in a way that massages my clit, making me whimper his name, to beg for more, to squirm, to cry out, to come. Almost effortlessly.
Jesus. It doesn’t even feel real. I feel almost delirious, definitely not at one with my body.
Parker grabs hold of my hip, thrusting himself forward, his movements no longer slow. No, fast. Quick powered drives of his hips to propel himself forward, deep within my body.
He groans. He flexes. He growls. He bites me.
God. This man. My body still tingles with the aftershocks of my orgasm, my skin damp with what he does to me.
“Gonna come,” he licks against my neck, his hips powering forward one last time before his loud, harsh groan empties from his mouth in time with his body’s release.
His lips kiss along my neck, over my shoulder, his sharp breaths crawling across my skin.
“Mornin’, Sugar.”
I laugh. “Good morning.”
“Fun fact about me? Favorite way to wake up? Codi Rein wetting my cock.”
I giggle in a mixture of embarrassment and maybe a little bit of egotism, feeling a sense of accomplishment.
“I’m thinking it might be my new favorite way to wake up too.”
He grunts his approval, his grip tightening on my body, hugging close. I’d be lying if I said Parker’s want for affection wasn’t a little staggering. He holds his body in a way to intimidate, his scowl more common than his smile, his eyes glower with a darkness I crave to know more about. But when we’re together, he’s touchy, his body, hands or lips constantly seeking out ways to love my body. Whether it’s a brief or heated kiss, a slide of his hand against my lower back, the way he pulls me into his side as we walk. It’s constant.
I like it. More than that, I love it.
“Let’s shower and go grab a bite to eat. Fuckin’ starvin’.” He kisses my cheek, moving away and I roll with him.
He holds my hand in his, walking a step in front of me, toward my bathroom. It’s sweet in the same way it’s egotistical. Parker Shay, sweet but sinister and I’m finding he’s someone I never knew I was looking for.
“Shower,” he instructs, letting go of my hand and I raise an eyebrow with a defiant smirk.
He winks and my God, my lady parts spasm in extended after-shocks of what we just shared. Then he kisses the air, a simple blown kiss that’s so unmistakably arrogant in the way it’s done, but my legs quiver and I’m certain I’m about to come. Again. I blink slowly, swallow deep and his satisfied chuckle rings in my ears as he turns his back, opening my cupboards.
I stand frozen, watching the muscles in his back flex with every simple movement of his body. It’s hypnotizing. Closing one cupboard, his eyes meet mine in the mirror and his sinful smirk teases the right side of his mouth.
“Sugar” He reaches out to the next cabinet and I watch the line of his tattooed arm. “Shower.”
I reluctantly pull my eyes back along his thick arm, landing once again on his face and I nod absently. “Yes, shower.”
He continues his search as I adjust the temperature of the water.
“Gotta spare toothbrush, babe?”
“Top drawer on the right.”
He moves in that direction, pulling a toothbrush from its packet. “You’re on the pill,” he states, dropping a large dollop of toothpaste on the brush, meeting my eyes in the mirror once again. “I don’t wanna use condoms.”
I watch the way his back flexes as his arm moves with brushing his teeth. He does it roughly, the movements fast and forceful.
“Codi,” he prompts, spitting into the sink and turning to look at me without the barrier of the mirror.
“Okay,” I nod, washing my body.
“Okay?” he questions skeptically.
“Yeah, okay.”
His head pushes back slightly, shocked by the easy agreeance in my tone and I smile, more than a little pleased with myself.
“Pass my toothbrush.”
A dark eyebrow raises, a mix of bothered admiration skating along his features at my
demand. “Got any manners you might wanna use?”
I roll my eyes. “Please.”
“Fucked you twice, already throwing sass. Cock has changed you.”
I laugh. Loudly. My head tipping back and eyes closing.
He’s standing directly in front of me when my eyes reopen, staring down at me intently, so much so, my laughter dies immediately in my throat.
Handing me my toothbrush, he leans forward, veering from my lips just before he touches them, moving to my neck to offer it a wet caress of his tongue. “Really fuckin’ love the sound of your laugh.”
My eyes close softly as I moan, enjoying the sweet attack of his mouth on my skin.
“Turn around.”
I do as he says.
“Brush your teeth, Sugar.”
Again, I comply without hesitation.
His large hand reaches for my arm dropped at my side, pushing it up against the ceramic of the tiles and keeping it there.
My legs almost buckle when his other hand skates up my inner thigh, not skipping a beat as his fingers drag across my clit.
“Bet I can make you come before you finish brushing?”
I can’t answer. Not with words. I moan instead as two fingers slide deep into my body.
My arm drops, toothbrush forgotten at my side and he pauses, “That’s not the game, baby.”
I stutter through a labored breath, smiling in defeat, quaking with how easily he’s learned to play my body. Parker hooks his fingers, a slow drag of his fingers across my g-spot and my back arches.
“Codi,” he warns and languidly, I lift my arm, toothbrush dragging across my teeth in a half-assed attempt to keep him going. He concedes on a quiet snarl of laughter, his fingers starting their assault once again.
“So wet. So hot. So tight. And all mine.”
I convulse at the harsh way he speaks, his tongue dragging along my neck, teeth biting into my skin.
He wins. Without effort. I’d barely made a sloppy attempt at cleaning my teeth before my body started shuddering with the beginning of my orgasm. I rode it out, teeth clamping shut on my toothbrush, my hand flying to join my other on the wall.
He twists me as I’m still coming down, moving himself into the spray of water to wash his body, smug grin dancing along his face. I’m too drunk on my orgasm to care; eyes hooded, smile satisfied.
Finished, he winks, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the side of my mouth and stepping from the shower.
With him gone, I brush my teeth, for real this time, wash myself and follow his retreat. He already has his boxers and jeans on when I step back into my room, his eyes focused on his cell.
I dress in silence, glancing at his half-naked form every so often, to shake my head at the gloriousness of a Parker Shay shirtless.
It’s a given, I’m destined to live in damp panties for the rest of existence. I should just stop wearing them. He’s a masterpiece. Crafted, sculpted by an artist, their piece de resistance.
He glances up, a small almost coy grin creeping onto his face. His muscles flex, his shoulders lifting to zip his jeans, pulling his belt together to buckle it.
“Codi. Fuck,” Camryn’s voice travels from the front door and I startle away from staring at Parker. “Pick your shit up, almost broke my fucking ankle.”
The sound of her voice moves closer with her incessant mutterings echoing her footsteps.
My bedroom door flings open, my shoes, discarded in whatever direction they landed in my panicked haze last night, flying through and landing in amongst the mess of clothes covering my apartment.
“Seriously, Codi. This isn’t a fuckin’ brothel, stop leaving your shit everywhere.” She enters not a second later, eyes falling to Parker as he pulls his shirt over his tattooed torso. Her bottom lip tips out in appreciation, her head nodding along, eyebrows raised.
“Ryn,” I scold and her eyes flick to me, scanning my body up and down. The playful appreciation has left her, being replaced with a cautious consideration.
Only thing Camryn Rein takes more seriously than her job? Me. My safety. My heart. My feelings. And in this moment, watching the debate in the denim blue of her eyes, making sure that I’m okay; my heart hurts.
My sister is broken; stuck within the resounding darkness of her mind, of her memories. I can’t tell if she can’t get out or if she doesn’t want to. Can’t determine if she prefers living in the clouded reality of her mind, because that’s all she knows or that really, maybe she’s afraid of the pain it will cause to claw her way out.
So I do what I can to reassure her, I smile. I let her know I’m fine, more than, my small grin probably giving away more than it should.
She blinks, dulling the fire projected my way, dropping her gaze to my tangled bed sheets, her lips tipping upward. “Glad you didn’t cop a knee to the junk this time.”
“Ryn,” I whisper-yell at her retreating back, glowering over at Parker’s dark chuckle.
Dropping on the end of my bed, I pull my shoes onto my feet, color shading my cheeks. “Can’t believe she said that.”
His white-sneakered feet move into my line of sight, his hand moving under my chin to tip my face up to his. “She went somewhere pretty dark there for a second, noticed we noticed, her way to lighten the mood.”
I feel my facial features soften. “You saw that?”
His thumb brushes along my bottom lip, his eyes lost for a moment before a quick shake of his head brings him back. “Baby, wouldn’a seen it any clearer if Satan himself was glowing red at the pearly gates. She ain’t tryin’ to hide her pain, I think she uses it to deter people.”
He pauses momentarily, sighing loudly. “See it in Rocco all the time.”
I’m more than a little stunned at his openness. He’s yet to share anything about his family. I know they don’t have any to speak of, but his willingness to share anything further is non-existent.
Not willing to scare him off, or bring his inner jerk into default, I nod, letting myself appreciate this moment and his uncharacteristic show of empathy. Especially toward the most important person in my life. Camryn.
“Ready?” He steps back, scanning my appearance from my Tiffany blue colored Converse, up my black skinny jeans, white tee and leather jacket the to my messy top knot, haphazardly tied atop of my head.
“Like this version.”
I walk into his body, kissing his chest. Keeping my arm around his waist, I turn us toward my bedroom door and he follows, head dipping down to drop his lips to my hair.
Camryn’s in the kitchen, still dressed in her scrubs, hair much like mine, except there is no purposefulness to the mess in hers. Hers is a result of a sixteen-hour shift, the bags under her eyes testament to that.
She yawns, unattractively, not covering the wide expanse of her mouth, as she finishes it on a loud shout.
“Morning,” she sings, taking a large gulp of coffee.
“Morning,” I echo, Parker lifting his chin in greeting.
“You guys haven’t officially met. Parker, my sister, Camryn. Ryn, Parker Shay. My boyfriend.” The words are out before I can swallow them.
Boyfriend. I just actually said that.
I chance a wide-eyed glance to Parker, whose looking down at me, eyebrow raised in surprise.
“As you can tell, my sister has zero experience with men. Hoping you find it as endearing as I do.” Camryn saves me from the world opening up and swallowing me whole.
Parker turns back to her, moving us forward to extend his hand, which Ryn takes without hesitation.
“Shay, you say?”
He lifts his chin in acknowledgment.
“Kane Shay’s son?” she continues, coming around the bench to perch upon the breakfast bar.
His body locks rock solid and I watch his head move in a stiff nod. Just once, his stormy eyes pinned to Camryn in cautious consideration.
“Remember the night he died,” Camryn declares, oblivious to the concrete form his body has taken and my eyes flick
to his face. “Killed by a shower of bullets, so the news reported anyways.”
A gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it, my hand moving to cover the sound a second too late. A quick, shooting tremor slides through Parker’s large frame. He swallows thickly, jaw set tight.
“Shit, sorry,” Ryn apologizes. “That was really fucking insensitive of me.”
Relief seems to loosen his coiled frame at her apology. He pulls me into his body more securely, my front glued to his side. “Don’t sweat it,” he forces a grin onto his face, settling Camryn’s crease of worry currently carved into her forehead. “Long time ago now.”
I squeeze his waist in apology? Reassurance? I’m not really sure, but he winks down at me, silently telling me he appreciates it all the same.
“Guy was a prick. In the end, anyway. No loss on my part.”
“Just remember it hitting me pretty hard,” she offers, unfazed by his heartbreaking statement. “From what I gathered, our fathers were in the same line of work.” She smiles sardonically, and he coughs out a laugh. There’s no humor to the sound though. A practiced response that screams discomfort, that exemplifies the rawness this topic evidently cuts him with.
I want to tell her to stop. To leave it be, but she continues before I can find the words to speak. My focus trained on the storm circling in his gray eyes.
“It scared me,” she shares. “Didn’t sleep much for a few years, was always worried the same thing would happen to our dad.”
He blanks out at the simply shared fear, his nostrils flaring in barely restrained fury, the menacing man he promises he is, fighting through, shadowing his handsome face.
The hackles on my neck rise at the barely contained show of aggression, at the hate projecting from his eyes. Camryn sees it too, shifting uncomfortably where she sits, eyes darting to me briefly before settling back on him.
“Anyway,” she forces out. “Like I said, insensitive of me to bring it up. I apologize.”
They become lost in a tangled dance of anger and uncertainty swirling in their eyes before Parker finally comes back to himself, forcing his false grin onto his face.
“No hard feelings. Nice to meet you. Officially. Codi and I are heading out to grab a bite. Let’s go, Sugar.”