I pushed myself up into a seated position, bringing my knees to my chest and covering my nakedness. "You're being an ass again."
"Oh yeah?" he asked, sounding tired. "Because I'm pretty sure I just gave you something no one has ever given you before."
"Yeah and you're pretty pleased with yourself about it," I spat back.
"Damn fucking right I am," he said, shaking his head slightly. "That's what you're angry about? You're mad because I'm happy I made you come?"
"Yes. No. That's not what..."
"Look," he said, smiling lazily, reaching an arm out to touch my arm. "I'm a prick. And I'm going to rub it in your face when I prove you wrong about something. But don't ruin this experience for yourself because you're tiffed at me."
He was right. I was getting really, really sick of him being right all the time. It was obnoxious. "Fine," I grumbled.
His hand pulled me forward and down, his arm going around my shoulders and bringing me over to lie across his chest. His fingers trailed lazily down my back for a long time before it settled on the outside of my ass and got heavy as he drifted off to sleep.
I should have been exhausted. But I felt wide awake; wired. I lie there for a long time, listening to his steady heartbeat, his slow breathing. I tilted my head slightly, looking over at his arm, shoulder to wrist in red and black tattoos. I had been wanting to get a better look at them since I had first laid eyes on him. I was always fascinated by what people felt passionate enough about to permanently mark them on their bodies.
There were several large images: a compass pointing southeast on the inside of his forearm in black, a raven perched on top of a blood red rose on his shoulder, a small "SL" on the inside of his wrist, a slightly curved sword on the outside of his forearm. Tying it all together was a thin outline of a bare tree in red, stretching up and around his arm. It was gorgeous. As a piece, it was perfect. So many sleeves were done with just a bunch of images
crammed onto the open space, nothing tying everything together.
He twitched slightly in his sleep and I could see letters on the inside of his bicep. I couldn't make anything out, just the end letters of words in a font that looked like a man's handwriting. I reached out, trying to turn his arm slightly so I could get a better look.
"'My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.'" Dane's voice sounded sleepy, but clear as he turned his arm slightly so I could see the quote.
"It's Kerouac," he supplied.
"I know," I said, running my fingers over the words. "You feel that way?" I asked, somehow feeling a connection with him. Words were easy for me. Words by other people. Words that were written from heart, to limb, to pen. Words that spoke to something inside me.
"Yeah," he said, almost hesitantly. Like it was too personal. Which was maybe why he had it tattooed in a place where most people wouldn't see very easily.
I moved my hand away and he quickly turned his arm again so the words disappeared. He felt that way. A part of him felt failure. A part of him wished he could be a better person, wished he could control himself. Wished he didn't rush into things headfirst. And since I had been convinced he was just a simple-minded egomaniac, I found that knowledge humanizing, endearing. My hand slid down to his wrist, touching the delicate script SL. "What is this for?" I asked, not caring anymore if I was prying. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything.
"Stars Landing," he laughed as if that was obvious. "I got it when I went to California."
"Home sick?" I asked, smiling at the thought of big, bad Dane Broderick feeling something as sentimental as that.
"Yeah," he admitted, turning his hand and capturing my hand in his. Coming from anyone else, it would have been sweet and intimate. But I got the feeling that he was just doing it to keep me from learning any more of his secrets.
"Did you like it there?" I asked, having a vague memory of the dry heat, the parade of perfect bodies, the traffic. I had only been there for a week and I spent most of that at the officeI was decorating.
"Yes. And no," he paused, like he was fighting over whether he wanted to elaborate. "It was a much needed change of pace. Easy. Laid back. And at first, I liked that no one gave a shit about me and my actions and my life. It was refreshing to be so anonymous when you grew up in a town where you are anything but. After a while, though, it got old."
"So you came home."
"So I came home," he said, his fingers stroking up my spine.
"Are we..." I started, smiling against his chest, "actually having a conversation?"
His chest rumbled underneath me as he chuckled, reaching down and slapping my ass. "I do do more than just fuck, you know," he said.
I laughed, feeling the urge to kiss his skin, and I didn't fight it. But as soon as my lips touched his chest, his entire body went taut as a bow, his hand stilled on my back. And I knew with absolute certainty that I had just screwed everything up. Because it was too sweet. It was too normal, too familiar of an action for a man like him. I pulled myself up off him, moving toward the other side of the bed.
"Where are you going?" he asked, sounding guarded.
"Back to my room," I said, thinking about all the other women he had sex with. Just minutes after the banging stopped, they were dressed and out in the hallway. And I had the firm belief that that was because he kicked them out, not because they actually wanted to leave. I didn't think my pride could take a kick like that. It was better I be the one to get up and leave. "To sleep," I added, putting my feet on the floor, facing away from him, feeling almost sad.
There was a pause. "You can sleep here," he said, his tone cautious.
"I don't want to... impose," I hedged, a fist of something I didn't recognize in my chest.
"Shut up and get back over here," he said, his voice back to normal and I felt myself smile for a minute before I settled it into straight lines and moved back to lie on his chest. He kicked the sheets up toward us, bringing it up over out bodies to block out the chill from the open window.
One of his hands went to my hair, stroking it behind my ear, the other rested hard on my hip. Our breathing slowed, became in time with our hearts as we slowly slipped toward sleep, wrapped like lovers. Which my sleep clouded brain realized, was exactly what we were.
–
I woke up to Dane pinching my ass. That was my wake-up call sometime around four AM. "Ouch," I grumbled, swatting his hand and rubbing my sore cheek.
"Hey, I've tried all the nice ways to wake you up," he said, moving to sit up which made me realize I was completely sprawled across him. "Did you grow up next to a fucking airport? How could you possibly not sleep when I was just having sex on the other side of the wall when you can sleep through me calling your name and patting you and pushing at you?"
I slowly pulled my leg to move off of him, but he reached out, grabbed my hips and pulled me to straddle his waist. "Why are you waking me up anyway? I don't need to get up for another three hours."
For an answer, he pushed my hips backward and his cock pressed insistent and hard between my legs. "Oh."
"Yeah... oh," he said, smiling.
"So what did you think I would..."
Before I could even finish the flirtatious sentence I was quite proud of myself for coming up with, Dane was moving. He pushed me backward, sending me flying across the bed onto my back, landing with a huff. As I scrambled to try to push myself back up, ready to laugh, he grabbed me and flipped me onto my stomach. He reached for my hips, pulling up until I was on all fours on the bed. He scooted in behind me. "I'm gonna fuck you from behind this time," he told me as he reached past me for another condom.
"Okay," I said, biting into my lip. I felt... happy. Which was weird. Light and happy and ready to give it another go. I wanted to see if he could make the impossible happen twice.
I felt his cock press between my slick heat for a second then with no hesitation, he plunged forward, pushing d
eep inside me and making me gasp out a surprised moan. Once fully inside, he paused, holding my hips, then slowly moving out until just the head was still inside and I grasped at it greedily, making him groan then chuckle.
"So you're going to tell me how you want it," he told me. "Slow?" he asked, sliding back inside me slowly, making me blissfully aware of each thick inch. My chin fell toward my chest as my hips pressed back against him, but then he just as slowly pulled back out and paused. "Fast?" he asked, quickly thrusting into me five times making me groan and clench my hands against the bed sheets, my body needing the friction so badly it hurt. But then he was out, pausing again and I was panting to know what my other option might be. "Or hard?" he asked, grabbing my hips, pulling them roughly backward at the same time he slammed forward, making my whole body jump and a whimper to escape my lips.
I wanted them all. I was a greedy, slutty mess of hormones and want and need and I wanted him every which way all at once. How the hell was I ever supposed to just pick one?
"Hard," I decided, my voice an airy demand.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, pulling out then slamming back in. Each thrust sent my body forward on the mattress, until I was teetering on the edge of the bed, holding onto the corner of the mattress and thrusting my hips back against him as he shoved forward. I was beside myself, groaning as loud as any porn star, crying out, begging for the torture to en, pleading for release. Dane's breathing was heavy, labored and I knew he was as close as I was. He reached forward, slipping his hands into the hair at the base of my neck, making a fist close to the roots and pulling hard. His other hand moved between out bodies, pressing hard against my clit as he thrust forward once more, making me come so hard all I saw was white as my body exploded with an impossible orgasm, hard, rolling, over and over, like there would be no end in sight.
Dane's hand twisted harder in my hair, grabbing my hip again to pull me against him, he was barely back inside me when I heard him curse, his breath catching, then hissing out of his mouth. "Fuck."
I collapsed against the bed backward, or else I would fall off, my ass high in the air toward him, my face and chest against the mattress. He shifted slightly behind me, reaching out and massaging my ass cheeks. "Good choice," he said, sounded winded and weary.
"Mmmhmmm," I managed back, already half asleep, completely spent, despite the awkward position.
His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me backward so I could lie flat and collapsing next to me, staring at the ceiling. "Come over here after two AM tomorrow."
"Okay," I agreed without even considering it. I would keep coming so I could keep... well... coming... for as long as I was invited. Because I had waited too long for this. I had been starving for so long. And I was going to enjoy a fucking feast until there was nothing left. I might never get a chance again.
But he was already asleep. As if he had just expected my acquiescence.
Such a cocky bastard. But for a very short period of time, and yes while we were both naked, he was going to be my cocky bastard.
–
I dressed and climbed back into my room a few hours later, quickly bathing and changing into work clothes, making my way into the hall while Dane slept in. There was a slight soreness between my thighs that I took a sick sense of satisfaction from.
Emily watched me with lowered brows as I gushed about the new fabrics I had decided on over breakfast.
"You're different," she said, crossing her legs, smiling keenly. "You got laid, didn't you?"
"What?" I asked, terrified that she might actually have an idea.
"You seem happy and I don't know... you're very sure of yourself."
"Oh," I said, feeling a rush of relief. "I just... got a good night of sleep for the first time in a long time," I hedged. It wasn't wrong. I had slept like a baby.
"Okay," she shrugged, pointing toward two fabrics. "I love those two."
I felt like a teenager all day; like a girl who just got her cherry popped; like no matter what I did, my mind kept wandering back to Dane's bed. To the events of the night. To the hopes of the future. To Dane himself. Dane who, just a day ago, I swore I hated more than anyone else I had ever crossed paths with. What did that say about me? That I was fickle? Was I someone who just didn't put enough conviction in her opinions? Or had Dane simply fucked me hard enough to change my mind?
I went through the usual motions of the day: work and food and pleasantries. Two AM felt forever away. I went back to my room around six. I showered, did my makeup, then washed it off. I laid out the sexiest lingerie I had, which was just black lace panties and a matching bra, then climbed into bed and forced myself to sleep. It was the only way for the time to pass more quickly.
The banging woke me up. I sat up in bed feeling disoriented, trying to place the noise.
"Come on, princess," Dane's voice called through the wall, making me spring off the bed, searching for my cell to check the time. And, sure enough, it was well after two in the morning.
I grabbed my lingerie and flew into the bathroom, slipping into them and throwing a tank top and a pair of purple silk pajama shorts on. I mussed with my hair as I gargled mouthwash. I checked out my reflection, deciding it was just going to have to do and making a dash for my window.
Dane's room was dark, only the low light lamp on the bedside table on. Dane was sitting on his bed, freshly showered in just a pair of plaid pajama pants.
"About damn time," he said, not even looking over when I climbed in.
"Sorry... I fell asleep."
He nodded, getting off the bed and walking over to his dresser, picking up a bottle of wine and inclining his head at me in invitation.
"Sure," I said, thinking how awful it was going to taste with the mouthwash, but glad for something to do. I didn't know what I had been expecting... for him to grab me as I climbed through the window, strip me naked, and screw me before I could even mutter a greeting? Actually... yeah that was what I had thought might happen. Not wine and small talk. Not awkwardness.
I took the glass from him and sipped casually.
"How was your day?" he asked.
Pleasantries? From Dane Broderick? What wormhole did I get sucked into? "Are you seriously asking me about my day?"
"I'm trying to be... nice," he said, looking sheepish, running a hand across the back of his neck.
"Well... don't," I laughed, turning toward him. "It's weird."
"It's weird for someone to be nice to you?"
"It's weird for you to be nice to me," I corrected.
"I'm not really the asshole you think I am," he said, shaking his head and offering me a strained looking smile. "I can have a normal interaction with a woman that isn't sexual in nature. I can give a shit about your life."
"Good to know," I said, draining my wine. "But this is awkward. And, I mean, I am the queen of awkward. So that is saying something."
"Hey," he said, shrugging. "I'm trying here. The least you can do is not beat me up about it."
He was right. I was doing what I would be furious if he did to me. "Okay. Shoot," I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"How long have you been a decorator?" he asked, sitting down next to me.
"About seven years. I've been with EM Corp for three. Lots and lots of offices."
"Sounds boring."
"You have no idea."
"So when you're not... decorating... what do you do?"
"I'm always traveling. So I'm on the road. Getting from one place to another. And I read."
"Oh, yeah... your book boyfriends."
"Shut up," I said, smiling despite myself and slapping his arm.
He turned his head to me, smiling almost shyly. "Hi," he said, his eyes looking darker than usual.
"Hi," I said back.
"I think we have given the whole talking thing a fair shot," he said, his hand moving to my leg and tracing small circles with his fingers. "How about we try the... not talking thing?"
"I think that's a great idea," I said, my voice already breathless and he was barely touching me.
His lips had just touched down on mine when there was a knocking at his door, making my heart fly into my throat. I was standing before he had even opened his eyes. "Ah," he said, giving me a strange dark look that better sense told me to be weary of. "Now things get interesting." He made his way to the door, sliding the lock as I inched my way toward the window. Who was he letting in? I didn't want anyone to know I was with him. The last thing I wanted getting around was that I was just another notch in his damn belt. And, what was even weirder, was that he was acting like he was expecting someone to show up. My hand was braced against the window frame when he swung the door open and ushered someone in.
Someone I recognized.
The young woman from the first night of wall banging. The brunette. What the hell was going on?
"Amanda," he said, putting a hand to her lower back. "This is Cordy. Cordy... this is Amanda."
"Ah... hi," I said, looking at Dane like he had lost his mind.
But, I realized, I was the only one who looked confused. Amanda smiled at me like she had been expecting me and Dane was looking between us with a look of strange male satisfaction.
"What's going on?" I finally heard myself ask.
Dane's face found mine and a devilish grin spread across his face. "We are heading into the second phase of your sexual education," he said casually.
The words fell hard on me and I shot an embarrassed glance over toward Amanda who had the good sense to not be looking at me. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He turned back toward Amanda. "Take your clothes off," he told her, his voice forceful.
"What?" I asked, looking at them like they had lost their minds when Amanda just shrugged and reached to pull her shirt off. "No," I said to her, but it was already over her head, her breasts bare underneath. I looked quickly away, but not before I saw her reaching for the zipper on her jeans. "No, Dane," I said, shaking my head. Had he completely lost his friggen mind? Did I seem like the kind of girl who would be into that kind of thing? I mean... seriously.
The Stars Landing Deviant Page 8