Beneath the Burn

by Pam Godwin

  Seeing her there, waiting for him, combined with the feelings he had for her, delivered the ultimate in sexual fantasy. He moved toward her, picking up his pace, driven by the memory of her satin skin beneath his fingers. He wanted to kiss every part of her body. Wanted her hands covering every inch of his. What kind of noises would she make as he lost himself inside her?

  “Need a condom?” Rio kicked up his feet on the chair across from him. “Or five?”

  Jay growled. Knowing his buddies were squatting feet from the bathroom dampened his arousal. He closed the final few steps and captured her gaze.

  She half-turned, eyes firmly fastened to his, and fumbled with the door lever.

  “I’ve got it.” He nudged her hand away and opened the door.

  “I think the couch folds into a bed.” Laz leaned back in the seat, hands behind his head. “Wouldn’t that be more comfortable?”

  Charlee looked at the couch and back to Laz. “The couch would be preferable.” She grinned. “For the boring missionary type.” With a snort, she turned and vanished behind the door of the lavatory.

  Jay’s body hummed with anticipation as he followed her in and shut the door on the barrage of whistling and laughing. He turned the lock and tumbled into her amused eyes. “You weren’t hoping for discreet, were you?” He brushed a thumb over her upturned lips.

  The space was twice the size of a commercial jet lavatory and included a narrow shower stall at one end. She hopped up on the tall vanity counter and lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t had discreet sex in a long time.”

  Her monotone statement wrenched the air from his lungs. What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t just screw her like a groupie in a bathroom, much to his erection’s dismay. “Charlee, I’m not going to—” Bang her? Too vulgar. Have sex with her? Too casual. Make love to her? She’d laugh. “—do this with you for the first time in a bathroom.”

  Some of the light dimmed in her eyes. “By this, you mean slam me against the wall and fuck me until I can’t walk?”

  Alarms screeched in his head. So much of her sexual history was tainted with Roy’s abuse. What he didn’t know was if she’d ever willingly given herself to another man for love. He didn’t think so.

  He braced his hands on the counter, caging her hips, and leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “That’s the second time you’ve tried to cheapen us with crude language.” He softened his voice, his eyes searching hers. “Why do you do that?”

  A swallow nodded in her throat. “You’re right. It’s a defensive habit.” She stared up at him and her expression opened. “I came in here with one expectation. To touch you. Will you take off your shirt?”

  The air thinned and his pulse sped up. He was desperate to be wrapped in her embrace, her body, but what if his reaction scared her? “Charlee—”

  “You asked me to trust you. I do. Your turn.”

  She had asked him to walk to her, to meld with her. His resolution forged, rushing oxygen throughout his body. His blood scorched through his veins.

  He gripped the back of his shirt, pulled it over his head, and dropped it to the floor.

  She made a little noise. “Wow. Even sexier than the last time I saw you without a shirt.”

  The muscles in his chest twitched and his heart lifted.

  “Turn around.”

  He moved in a tight circle and flattened his hand on the wall beside him. “I’ve never shown it to anyone, but I…look at it.” More often than he was willing to admit.

  “It’s exactly as I remember.” Her soft breaths marked the passing seconds. “Your lyrics about the flames, the steel, and the things we talked about that night…they carried me through some lonely weeks in San Francisco.”

  His gut twisted. He focused on the filigree designs printed on the wallpaper, and tried not to picture her naked and shackled to Roy Oxford.

  “It was as if you were singing directly to me.”

  “I was singing to you,” he rasped through the dry husk of his mouth. “Your needle tapped my heart’s blood that night. Every song I’ve written since then has been about you. For you.” Even when he thought she was dead.

  Her silence made him realize how creepy his confession sounded. He glanced desperately over his shoulder. Her eyes flicked up, wide and wet with unshed tears.

  “Oh, Charlee.” He moved to face her.

  “No. Stay there.” She wiped her lashes with the back of a hand. “Can I put my mouth on you?”

  The request coaxed a shiver from his body and scratched his voice. “Yeah.”

  She hooked her boots around his thighs and backed his ass into the V of her legs. Her body heat surrounded him. Her breath stroked his back and his muscles contracted. Her lips tickled his scars and shot jolts of electricity up his spine.

  He pressed his hand to the wall, battled to keep it there. The other he shoved in his pocket. His fingers ached to touch her, undress her, and unravel her. He strained his neck to see her gorgeous face.

  Without lifting her mouth, she tilted her eyes up at him. “Doing okay?”

  “I want to touch you.”

  “Not yet.” A soft kiss on his spine. “Now turn back around and close your eyes.”

  He pushed his hand hard against the cool surface, squeezed his eyes shut, and trembled in anticipation of her touch. How could something so right feel so terrifying? “Promise me when I get lost in my fucked-up head, you won’t run away.”

  A volley of kisses fluttered across his back. “If you get lost, I promise.”

  Her shirt rustled, brushed against him and dropped to the floor. The next thing landed on his shoe. He opened his eyes. A red lace bra draped over his feet. His balls tightened.

  Her bare chest pressed against his back, and her mouth, soft and wet, slid over his scars. Oh fuck, there wasn’t a sensation in the world that could rival the caress of her nipples over his skin.

  A rumble vibrated through his chest, her nearness like a sensual note quivering from his guitar.

  “Tell me,” she breathed on his skin, “what is sex like with you?”

  “Wh—” He choked. “What?”

  She licked along the bumps of his spine, her tongue a hot wave running over his flesh, leaving goose pimples in its wake. “Describe your most recent sexual encounters.”

  No fucking way. He jerked to glance at her and was met with the palm of her hand inches from his face. Was she blocking his view of her? Or of the reflection of his back in the mirror? He looked back at the door in front of him. “Why are you asking me this?”

  “You know why.”

  Was he so messed up she needed an outline of lessons learned to navigate him? It was safer to keep his shit hidden in the dark. Still, she wanted inside and he wanted to let her. “I don’t remember most of them. I get drunk or stoned to work myself up for…”

  “Physical closeness.”

  He nodded and dropped his head on his arm where it braced against the wall.

  She peppered the valleys between his ribs with flitting kisses. “And the encounters you remember?”

  Fuck, he didn’t want her to stop kissing him. Deep breath. “I tie them up.”

  She stopped, but didn’t move away. He angled his chin to see her. “I’m so sorry, Charlee. Your history—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” Fire sparked in her eyes, even as she dragged her lips over his tattoo, inches from his face. “Apparently, you’ve forgotten I’ve been paying men to tie me up for three years.”

  His fingers curled on the wallpaper.

  “Do you have unprotected sex?” She asked against his shoulder.

  “Yes.” He felt dirty and sick with regret, wanting so badly to be clean and deserving of her.

  Her tongue darted in lazy circles over the outline of his tattoo.

  He grasped for something to dig his nails into, something to reassure her with. “I tested clean at the doctor a couple days ago.”

  Hot breaths swept over his bicep, her mouth sucking and tasti
ng the sensitive skin under his arm. He was going to lose her glorious mouth with his next announcement, but a swelling resignation settled around his heart. “Last night, I might’ve fucked—”

  “I met your girlfriends. They were pretty vocal about how you didn’t sleep with them.” Her lips moved against his skin. “Though I’ve got to ask. Whose cum was between their legs? It couldn’t have been all theirs.”

  The backs of his ears caught fire and saliva filled his mouth. The thoughts of his behavior with those women turned his stomach. “Charlee, I can’t.”

  The warmth of her mouth disappeared. In its place, a strange sensation pressed down. What was she doing? He turned his head—

  “Close your eyes. Please?”

  Uncertainty attacked his nerves and locked up his knees. He closed his eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Now tell me about last night.”

  The firm pressure on his back distracted him. Her breasts? Her hands?

  His head spun with a conflagration of images. Her red lace bra. The wind pummeling the shed. Her sensual lips. The creak of the oven door. He needed the numbing effects of blow. Sifting through his pockets, his hand came up empty. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “Maybe you did fuck them. They were covered in semen.”

  Her detached voice splintered the vortex of memories. Or was it his aunt’s voice? You’re cold. So cold. Why was she tormenting him? The floor canted and he rocked on his feet. “I don’t know.”

  “They called themselves Charlee. I’m your only Charlee, right?”

  Mildew and soot chased his rapid inhales. He smacked his hand against the rotting wood wall.

  “Jay…Jay?”

  Charlee called to him from outside the shed. Her lilt wasn’t accusing. It was soothing and alive and breathing through him. Her lips latched on to his back, holding him to her. “I might not be able to help you, but I’ll share your pain if you let me. Tell me about last night.”

  Something cracked inside him. The humiliation he’d tried to keep from her trickled out. “I tied them up and jerked off on their cunts.” He closed his eyes. “I did it while thinking of you and shouting your name over and over until I don’t remember anything else.” His body sagged, and his heart rate depressed.

  “Look at me, Jay.”

  Eyes aching with vulnerability, he turned half-way in the V of her thighs, stopped. Pale pink nipples filled his vision. They pointed up, one resting erotically against his bicep. He absorbed every detail from their curves and size to their velvety texture. He couldn’t stop his groan nor could he stop himself from completing the turn to face her. The hands on his shoulders slid with his movement.

  Oxygen vanished. Black and white flashes blotted out her face. He strained to see through it, to focus on her smile, the strength in her eyes. All the filth in his head weakened in comparison.

  “My hands have been here a while.” She used those hands to twist his shoulders and pull his back against her chest. “You were doing great until you saw them, so focus on me, okay?”

  He dragged his gaze over his shoulder and watched her reflection in the mirror. He drank in the arch of her slender neck and the slope of her bare shoulder as she dipped her lips to the flame inked between her fingers. Fingers that massaged his scars. Fingers he hadn’t noticed…then it dawned on him. “All your questions about those girls were just a way to distract me?”

  Tingling shocks zapped from her kneading hands. She gave his back an open mouth kiss. “I thought, if I could keep one of your recent memories well supplied with fuel, the older ones would stay quiet.”

  At that moment, he knew she hadn’t just given him the pleasure of her touch. It was a challenge, a proposal of what could be, an offer of salvation. “You make me want to let all my memories surface. I want to face them.”

  “You will.” She bit his shoulder, and her playfulness woke his dick.

  The heat of her palms sliding over his shoulders, the sweep of her tongue tracing his scars, and the sweet fragrance of her hair wrapped him in a whirlwind of sensations.

  “You’re responding so well to my hands, I want to take advantage.”

  Before he could question her, she reached around and cupped him between his legs. He choked on a noisy gulp and dug his fingernails into the wallpaper. As psychologically turned on as he was, no way could he prevent the intensity of his hard-on.

  She traced the curve of his erection through his leathers and smiled against his back. “Oh my God. You’re ginormous.”

  If he didn’t already know he was averagely sized, the laughter in her voice would’ve cued him to her teasing. His rebuff died in his throat when her other hand joined the first and her pelvis pressed against his ass.

  She nuzzled his back and ground against him. “I want to see it.”

  A shudder skated through him. He couldn’t form a coherent answer with her arms locked around his waist and her hands rubbing in synchronized motions on either side of his cock.

  Sharp hot exhales followed the wet trail of her mouth down his spine. She was breathing too fast. He was breathing faster. When her fingers quickened and strengthened, he dug deep and found his voice. “I want you under me, not behind me.”

  “Okay.” A breathy, empowering response. She was still with him.

  He twisted around and captured her in his arms, pushed her back against the mirror, and devoured the heady spice of her lips. His leather pants itched and confined. Her leggings were in the way. Too many fucking clothes.

  “Charlee.” He drew in her tongue. She curled it with his, their lips sliding together. The kiss grew so aggressive, so fast, they were both fighting for air.

  He broke away and lowered his mouth to chase her nipple, catching it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue. His excitement grew in demanding tremors. All he could think about was stripping her pants and shoving himself deep inside her.

  She dropped her head against the mirror and moaned. The sound resonated in his dick. He slid his palm over the curve of her waist to the rise of her ass and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband. His erection pulsed painfully in its cage.

  He grabbed her nape and pulled her lips back to his mouth. “Charlee, take me out.”

  Her tongue traced his bottom lip, lapping and teasing, and she pulled back to look at him. “Has anyone ever touched you there?”

  A cruel voice screamed from the recesses of his mind. He extinguished it with thoughts of Charlee, of what she was offering him. “Not in a long time.”

  Her gaze narrowed and softened just as quick. Fuck, he loved her eyes. They were so expressive. Authentic. Direct. Much like the hand sliding down his stomach and tugging on the button of his pants. He sucked in a breath.

  The button popped free. She ensnared him with a devilish smile and lowered the zipper.

  46

  The warm leather of Jay’s pants peeled back as Charlee eased down the zipper one metal tooth at a time. Uncovering him was as thrilling as it was terrifying. He’d said he wouldn’t fuck her in a bathroom, but she teetered on the confusing edge of begging.

  Would he tie her up? The idea produced a delicious quiver deep in her core, but it morphed into queasiness when she pictured the women spread out on the piano. She didn’t want him to see her like that, nor did she want her intimacy with him reduced to a written contract like her Dom sessions. Problem was, she needed that brand of sexual healing.

  She nudged him backward two paces and his back hit the door. She hopped off the counter and her fingers followed the strip of hair from his naval to the close-trimmed patch below the spread of his fly. The anticipation fanning in her womb exploded into a fire. “Commando.” She swallowed. “Smart. No panty lines.”

  He groaned something thick and indistinct.

  She placed a kiss on the arch of his pecs and leaned back. “I want to see you in superhero briefs.”

  A smile flitted across his mouth and he shook his head. Eyes locked on her hands, his thumb strolled up and down
on her neck.

  As tantalizing as his pants were, she wanted them off. She hadn’t willingly explored a man in three years and the thought of tasting him produced a rush of wet heat between her legs.

  She pulled at his waistband and yanked it down the hard lines of his thighs. Her squat forced his hands to her head as his erection sprang free. Swollen and uncut, it curved up, waiting. She licked her lips.

  His legs shook beneath her hands, but he didn’t drive her head forward. Rather he tried to pull her back. “Charlee, don’t do this.” His deep voice reverberated from her nipples to thighs.

  Heat throbbed between her legs. Never had she experienced such a demanding desire as the one pulsating between them. Could he take her to the place she sought through punishing pain, where bygones and dead endings didn’t exist? Could he stretch her body and bruise her flesh until it was safe to let go?

  A dark sea of thoughts stormed inside her as she curled her hand around the tip of his shaft. The Doms had coached her to focus on relinquishing control rather than making it about pain. She wanted both. She wanted to lash out with her safe word and use the pain to drown the sexual memories that always came when she released.

  His erection jerked in her hand and her sick desires fissured, oiling her arousal and swelling her clit. What made it real made it shameful, and the overwhelming hunger for things she shouldn’t want rose, and rose, until a fever broke out through her body.

  She looked up into his heavy-lidded eyes, gripped the soft uncircumcised skin and slid it downward, slowly releasing the folds as she reached the bed of wiry hair.

  Could she do painless sex? She’d experienced it with one man, but Noah’s sweet nature came at a time in her life when she almost felt…healed. She would never appreciate that level of gentleness again. After his death and her second imprisonment, she was quite possibly more fucked up than the man trembling above her.

  Startled out of her thoughts, she realized she was stroking him frantically, wringing her grip along his length, her other hand digging into the hard brick of his ass. His chin fell to his chest and his jaw stretched through his panting, spurring her to continue the pace.