Dark Horse

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Oh, God," she grumbled to herself, her skin feeling like it was crawling, an entirely new sensation for her.

  In an effort not to start doing something as humiliating as blush, she turned her attention to the groceries, taking her sweet time putting them away, pretending it took all her effort, trying her best not to listen to any other embarrassing things her father might say.

  She decided that, even if she did go to Sunday dinner like Gina insisted when she called all of half an hour after Paine left a few days ago, she was not going to pry more stories out of his remaining family members.

  It was a cruel and unusual form of torture.

  Screw water boarding. If you wanted information out of someone, bring in the girl he likes and his parents and siblings. Have them tell every humiliating story they could about him. He would be singing like a goddamn canary in under five minutes.

  "This is a good man you have here," Atien declared near her side suddenly, making her jump. She had been too zoned out to realize he had even moved over toward her.

  "Dad, we're not..."

  "Has a bit of an, ah, unconventional past," he went on, completely ignoring her protest. "But he is on a good path. He has a good head on his shoulders. A good family. I approve," he said, shrugging. "And I expect to have you both out to dinner when you are back in the city. Now, I have to get back. I have some firing to do. Oh, and some teaming up with Rhodes. No fuckhead is getting away with putting his hands on my little girl," he said, knowing she hated being called that, doing it on purpose as he kissed her temple. "Call me when you're back home," he demanded, touching her cheek before stepping away.

  "I, ah, yeah. I will."

  "You two have a good weekend," he said, looking over at Enzo. "Take care of our girl."

  "Of course," Enzo said.

  Then the door was closed.

  Her father was gone.

  And her head was a freaking hurricane.

  Because... what the hell was that?

  Suddenly, she was cursing herself for not eavesdropping, regardless of how uncomfortable it might have made her. Because she apparently missed Enzo telling her father his whole life story.

  "What the hell just happened?" she asked, half to herself, not expecting an answer.

  "That was your father and I getting to know each other."

  "Apparently, quite well," she agreed, turning to him with lowered brows.

  "Can't tell him my intentions, and expect for him to approve of them, if he doesn't know a bit about me."

  "Your... intentions?" she choked out, suddenly feeling like her tongue had swollen to twice its size; it didn't seem to fit the space in her mouth anymore.

  "Yeah, honey, my intentions," he agreed, leaning against the counter, giving her an amused little smile.

  "What kind of intentions?" she asked, knowing the most logical answer, but sure he couldn't have meant that. Hell, he hadn't even seemed to look at her longingly in almost a week. It made no sense.

  "Figure with a man like that, and with the love and respect you have for him, I should make shit real clear to him," he said, and she was starting to wonder if he was purposely not giving her a full answer.

  "Make what shit real clear to him?"

  "This you and me shit," he said, lips twitching.

  "There is no you and me shit." Crap. Even she could hear the level of disappointment in her voice.

  "There's been plenty of you and me shit," he countered, moving closer, backing her up against the counter. "There's been you and me sharing meals. There's been you and me getting to know each other. There's been you and me watching shows, talking about music, learning each other's pasts..."

  Oh.

  See, she had always had relationships that maybe rushed too quickly into the physical aspect of things. She thought that was just how it was done, that no one went beyond - at the latest - the fifth or sixth date without sealing the deal. No one spent weeks getting to know another person before they checked out the physical chemistry too.

  You know, except for religious freaks.

  "But you haven't touched me," she objected.

  "Because up until today, this," he said, pressing his hand into her ribs, "would have had you doubling over in pain."

  He wasn't wrong about that.

  She swallowed hard, taking a steadying breath.

  "And now that it doesn't?"

  His lips tipped up, but it wasn't amusement in his eyes. No, that was pure, liquid, molten desire.

  "Now that it doesn't, I'm going to touch you," he said, voice like a promise just a second before his lips crashed down on hers.

  It wasn't soft, sweet, explorative.

  It wasn't meant to be tentative, to gauge her reaction.

  No, it was full of a week's worth of unfulfilled desire, was the snap on the last thread of control he seemed to possess.

  His hand mover up to cup the back of her neck, the tips of his fingers sinking into her hair and pulling slightly as he deepened the kiss, as his lips bruised into hers. His other hand stayed at her ribs for a long moment, until she let out a whimper and swayed forward into him. Then it slid to her waist, around her back, then trailed downward until it sunk into her ass, squeezing hard, dragging her upward slightly so his straining cock pressed into her belly.

  His teeth sank into her lower lip, hard enough to make her gasp. He used the opportunity to press his tongue forward, claiming hers until her hands were raking scratches down his shoulders, until her hips were grinding into him, begging for freedom from the torment.

  It was then that his hand released her neck, moving down her back to sink into the other side of her ass, hard enough to pull her up on her tiptoes, then completely off them, hovering in the air for a second before he pulled higher, coaxing her legs around his waist.

  Her arms folded tight around the back of his neck as he suddenly slammed her back against the fridge, letting his hard cock press into her right where she needed it, making her lips break from his to let out a ragged moan.

  His lips moved to her neck, sucking in the skin until she was dragging her hips against him, begging for more.

  His head lifted, looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "You good?" he asked, and she knew it for what it was, him asking for permission to go further.

  "Bed. Now," she demanded, leaning down to nip into his earlobe, dragging a sexy, deep, rumbling, growling-noise from his chest as he started moving. First, toward the door, which he quickly locked, then back toward the bedroom. His bedroom. Which he had left to her since they arrived, again insisting on taking the couch.

  There would be no more sleeping on the couch if she got her way.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said with a chuckle that ended on a groan as her tongue ran down the column of his neck.

  She was barely aware of anything around her, just his cock against her thigh, his warm breath on her neck, his hands squeezing her ass.

  The next thing she knew, she was lowering down onto the bed, his body folding over hers as his hands left her ass to slide around to the front, sneaking up under the material of her shirt, and whispering over her belly until it reached the top of her ribs where, normally, her bra would have been. But since the band had pressed into her bruised ribs, she had foregone the bra since the night she got the injury in the first place. So his fingertips brushed the soft, sensitive undersides of her breasts, making a shiver course through her body as her back arched off the soft sheets, begging for more.

  But he didn't move his hands up, cup her, twist or roll her nipples. No. He lowered down, pushing the shirt up, and tracing the line his fingers had blazed with his tongue.

  A weighted sensation pressed into her chest, making her breathing labored as she grabbed at the back of his neck, trying to drag his face up so she could feel his lips close around her nipple, trace it with his velvety tongue, suck it hard into his mouth.

  "Enzo, please," she whimpered, way beyond too proud to beg. She needed it, she needed it all. Five minutes ago.
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br />   "Been waiting too long for this," he told her. "I'm taking my fucking time."

  The whimper came from somewhere deep as her hands went down his back, grabbing the material of his shirt, and desperately trying to drag it up his back, needing to feel his skin on hers.

  Enzo's low chuckle moved through his chest and into her body, making her insides feel shaky in a pleasant way.

  "Alright," he said, pushing up, then moving back to sit on his heels, reaching behind his back to pull up the shirt, exposing more of his perfect skin, his scars, his ink, to her greedy eyes. He had barely tossed the material to the side before she was folding upward and running her hands from the waistband of his jeans and up, letting her fingers settle into the deep etches of his muscles which twitched under her touch. "Better?" he asked, smile devilish when she angled her head up to look at him.

  As an answer, her hands trailed back downward, moving to the button and zip of his pants, undoing them with hands that felt clumsy.

  "Nuh-uh," he said, hand resting on top of hers when she tried to reach inside to find his cock, needing him to fill the sudden hollowness she felt deep inside.

  "We can go slow the next time," she declared, frustrated beyond words, every inch of her screaming with the need for release.

  His hands moved to the outsides of her thighs, moving leisurely up and down, like he wasn't half-dying of need like she was, even though she had felt just how much he needed it too.

  "Hands up," he said on a low rumble as his fingers snagged the edge of her shirt, slowly dragging it upward. "Fuck," he groaned when the material was tossed to join his in a haphazard, forgotten pile on the floor.

  Taking her cue from his reaction, she slowly lowered herself down, giving him a better view, arching her back slightly. His gorgeous green eyes went to her chest as his hands moved to his jeans, pushing them and his boxer briefs down. He hopped off the edge of the bed as her breath sucked inward as his cock came into view for the first time - hard and thick and promising complete fulfillment.

  His hands went to her thighs again, working upward until they got to the waistband, sinking in slightly to pull the material of them and her panties down, exposing her completely.

  And all she could think was: thank God!

  She was going to get what she needed.

  Except, she wasn't.

  At least not yet.

  Because there were his fingers again, chastely tracing up her thighs.

  "Enzo, please," she whimpered when his fingers ran from hip to hip, dipping down slightly to touch the triangle above her sex, but never touching her even close to where she truly needed him.

  "Love the sound of you begging, honey. But I'm enjoying the fuck out of torturing you," he declared, but then his middle finger dipped low, stroking up her slick cleft, and pressing into her clit, making her let out a surprised whimper.

  But that was it.

  Just one teasing touch.

  Her eyes lowered, finding his cock, a bead of pre-cum invitingly at the head.

  And she realized that two could play the teasing game.

  She folded upward again, putting her face into his chest. Her tongue moved out to trace downward as she moved to give her better access while she started a path downward.

  "Espen..." he growled, voice full of warning.

  But she wasn't listening to anything but the pull inside that said she needed to taste him, she needed to drive him as crazy as she was, she needed him at the edge. She needed him to free fall over it.

  She needed him to lose control.

  Her tongue moved out and swiped over the head, lapping up the precum with a low groan, her tongue stroking over the velvety-soft skin of his cock before her lips widened to take him in, wasting no time, playing no games, sucking him deep.

  His hand slammed down on her head, fingers curling into her hair as he let out a hiss.

  She worked him hard, fast, unrelenting, somehow getting his cock even harder as she sucked him deep, one of her hands moving down to cup his balls as his hips started to rock into her welcoming mouth.

  "Fuck, okay," he growled, grabbing the back of her hair, pulling back almost violently, making her lose his cock, while the sting of pain across her scalp somehow sent another, stronger surge of desire through her system. "My turn," he declared as he suddenly jumped off the end of the bed, lowering himself down as he grabbed her thighs, and dragged her to the edge.

  He coaxed her legs over his shoulders as he pressed her thighs wide, then surged forward.

  His tongue raked up her slit, up and around the clit without making direct contact, making the need become a positively painful thing, the pressure on her lower stomach so strong that she was sure that if she didn't come soon, she was going to simply shatter apart.

  His tongue curled and plunged inside her wet pussy without warning, making her hips jerk up toward him as he started thrusting, the sensation something like overload to her system, blocking out every other sense but the one he was giving her.

  Then and only then did his hand move upward, his thumb pressing into her clit.

  And that was it.

  The orgasm ripped violently through her system, making her entire body arch and stiffen at the first waves, her voice caught in her throat for that suspended nothingness of that initial, deep, strong pulsation.

  But then she was crying out as the waves kept crashing, as they seemed to spread out from where Enzo was still thrusting inside her, still stroking her clit, dragging it out, and taking over every inch of her skin until when she came down, every bit of her felt sparking and electric.

  His tongue slid out of her and his thumb left her clit as his hands sank into her hips, pushing her back toward the center of the bed. His lips pressed into the triangle above her sex and moved a slow path upward as she slowly came back down inside her body again.

  His tongue moved across the undersides of her breasts before tracing soft, sweet, impossibly gentle circles around her hardened peaks.

  She had a moment to think as his face nestled between the swells for a short moment, how odd it was that a man as large as he, with a dark and checkered and angry past, could be so soft, so sweet, so... loving.

  His body shifted, moving in between her legs, his cock pressing into her inner thigh, so so close to where the need was building again, making her belly do a strange wobbly thing she wasn't sure she had ever felt before, wouldn't know it for what it was even if she had.

  In that moment, though, she had a sneaking suspicion it had nothing to do with the wetness she felt between her thighs again, or the pressure on her lower stomach, or the thrumming of her heartbeat, or the unevenness of her breathing.

  No.

  This was something else entirely.

  Something deeper.

  Something that wasn't about the hollow sensation that was bodies needing bodies for fulfillment.

  This was something that settled deep in her chest, a weighted, but pleasant sensation that suddenly made the urgency ease, made her enjoy each brush of lip, teeth, tongue, and stubble, that made her arms and legs seek to wrap him up and hold him tightly to her.

  As he reached to the side to find then slide on a condom, as his lips sealed over hers, as his body shifted, then - finally - as his cock slid gently forward, claiming every inch of her with an excruciating pleasure, she was pretty sure she had an idea of what it was.

  But it was too soon for that, right?

  It certainly seemed too soon.

  Especially for someone like her, someone who maybe had never even felt an inkling of such feelings before.

  And Enzo was not the kind of guy she should have been having them for, right? He was all wrong. He was too laid back, too giving, too good. She would trample a guy like that. She would make him miserable. She would let herself fall, only to get crushed when he got sick of being pricked by her thorns, got a concussion from slamming his head up against her guards.

  "Espen," Enzo's voice called, sounding almost from far away, mak
ing her jerk, and realize she had been completely zoned out. Her eyes snapped to his, finding them slightly worried. His cock was still inside her, buried deep, but she realized right that second that she had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even really been feeling him, so the sensation of fullness was almost surprising, making her muscles tighten around him involuntarily. "Where are you?" he asked, looking almost concerned.

  "Right here," she said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as her hands slid down his back to settle on his hips, sinking in.

  "Where were you then? Because, honey, when I'm inside a woman, I can tell when she isn't here with me."

  "I was just... thinking," she admitted, shaking her head at her own stupidity.

  "About?"

  She let out a laugh/snort hybrid, smiling a little. "This isn't the time for talking."

  He pulled back slightly, then thrust forward again, making her moan and writhe beneath him. "I think this is the perfect time. You're more likely to be honest with me. Especially when I control," he started, withdrawing, then slamming in again, smiling when she cried out, "yeah, that. I control that. And you want that. So you're going to tell me," he informed her, his face turning into her neck.

  Her fingers raked across his skin when he again stilled inside her. She knew he was every bit as fucking stubborn as she was, that he was intent on winning. And, in this case, she knew that by losing, she was also winning in a way.

  "We shouldn't be doing this," she blurted out, it only being a small part of the overall truth. His raised brow was all she needed to know that he simply wasn't buying that. They had, after all, been there and talked about and tried to fight that. "I shouldn't be feeling like this," she admitted instead, looking away, knowing the vulnerability was in her eyes, and not ready to share that quite yet.

  "Like this?" he asked, voice heavy with meaning, but he emphasized it with another deep forward stroke, making her eyes shoot to his.

  She saw the weight there, the promise that the conversation wasn't over, but that he knew this wasn't the time after all, now that he knew what was really going on.

  "No, I should definitely be feeling like this," she countered, her legs tightening so she could move her hips up against him.