Edison

by Jessica Gadziala

  He said nothing.

  But in his eyes, I saw it.

  The challenge.

  Daring me to say something, to pull away.

  When I didn't, he yanked a little harder until my ass hit the arm of his chair instead.

  Not wanting to make a scene, to make it any more glaringly obvious what was going on in the room, I stayed there as I ate, as Pagan handed me another drink that started to make my head swim. As a woman almost reached freedom before being dragged back and into the killer's lair where she was suffocated to death. As the credits rolled and the movie switched to a less gruesome psychological thriller.

  It was then that the coiled, uncertain knot in my belly at being so close to him, yet so completely far and removed, was relieved.

  His arm went behind my hips, curling, then pulling me downward until I had no choice but to slide onto his lap.

  Though, if I were being honest, I didn't want the choice.

  All I had truly wanted to do since he walked in was to go to him, to feel his hands on me again.

  And maybe for the first time in my life, it wasn't just the sexual frustration, the need to get off.

  There was that.

  But I just wanted to be close to him.

  As bizarre as that was.

  So when I settled onto his lap, and the arm around my hip slid upward until it was near my waist, urging my upper body to lean into him, to rest on his shoulder, there was a strong sensation of relief inside, of comfort.

  And in that moment, up against his warm chest, his arm firmly around me, I was choosing not to think about it, not to analyze it, not to ruin it.

  It had been so damn long since I felt a thing even akin to relief or comfort. My battered soul needed the reprieve.

  So I was just going to let it happen.

  I was going to give myself the break I clearly needed.

  Slowly but surely, the guys started heading out to do 'rounds' or in Roan's case, go 'on the roof.'

  It left me, Edison, Cash, and Adler in the space, watching the credits roll.

  "Well, can't say I ain't disappointed," Adler announced and when I turned my head, he was looking at me.

  "Right," Cash said, shaking his head. "Because you stood such a chance with your chained hands and dubious past."

  "Want to talk about dubious pasts..."

  "No," Cash cut him off, and it was the first bit of tension I had seen in him. "I think you've had enough of a chance to run your mouth today. Back into the cage with you," he demanded, standing, and waiting for Adler to do so as well.

  He did, shrugging a shoulder. "Have a good night, duchess. Hope to see ya around again."

  With that, Cash led him away. "Goodnight guys," he called, making it clear he didn't plan to reappear.

  It should have made me uncomfortable, the insinuation that we needed to be alone.

  But, well, I guess maybe we did.

  There was a long silence, Edison's fingers starting to stroke up my hip, then down my thigh slightly, making my belly go liquid at the undeniable sweetness of it.

  "I didn't call or text," I clarified.

  "I know, love," he agreed tilting his head down slightly, his beard rubbing against my forehead as he placed a kiss there.

  "Cyrus conned me into showing up," I went on.

  "He's a nosy fuck," Edison agreed.

  "You told them we slept together."

  There was a pause, Edison taking a deep breath. "They assumed. And we didn't sleep together," he clarified. "We had sex. I would have slept there with you if you hadn't picked a useless fight."

  There was no arguing with the useless comment. With some space between the incident and now, well, it did sort of seem like it could have been avoided. You know, had I not worn my damage right there on my sleeve.

  "I don't let men sleep over."

  "I figured," he agreed, the side of his face pressed against the top of mine.

  "And I don't sleep over at a man's house either."

  "Hey, you know," he started after a moment. "I sleep here. But this isn't exactly my house."

  My lips curved at that, a part of me liking that he wanted me to stay enough to find a loophole to try to make it happen.

  The part of my brain that didn't want to change managed to make my lips speak first. "How about we stop doing all this talking, and start doing a lot of... not talking."

  "Lenny..." his voice tried to, well, whatever the manly version of 'pleading' was.

  "Maybe we can talk more after," I suggested, moving to plant my legs on either side of his hips, pressing my breasts into his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  "Holding you to that," he promised right before his lips sealed to mine, his hands moving, one at the back of my neck, the other wrapped around my lower back as his teeth bit, tongue explored, as he stoked a desire that had been simmering just under the surface all night. And, if I were being honest, since he had walked out of my apartment a few nights before.

  His body curled forward, then he moved to take his feet, holding my body to his, allowing my legs to wrap around his back to anchor me to him as his lips held mine prisoner the whole walk through the compound, down a hall, then finally to a door he slammed me up against for a long moment as his beard burned over the soft skin of my neck, as his lips and tongue traced over the flesh until I was writhing against him.

  The door slammed behind us, and Edison didn't even reach for the light, just kept moving forward until something stopped him. His hands slid down my sides, then sank them into my hips, yanking my body from his, sending me free-falling for a second before I bounced onto the center of his massive bed, letting out a surprised gasp, followed by a laugh before I saw the towering shadow of Edison as he stood at the foot of the bed. I could make out his arms raising, then a precious little sliver of skin thanks to what seemed to be some kind of nightlight in the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. I wanted to see him. I wanted to watch his muscles twitch when I ran my hands over them. I wanted to see his eyes as he came.

  But I realized as I heard the whoosh of his jeans hitting the floor that he had no intentions of going across the room to flick on the light, that we were going to do it in utter darkness.

  Somehow, that made another thrill move through me.

  "Edison," my voice called as he seemed to still loom there, naked though I couldn't see, staring down at me like maybe he could.

  "Yeah, love?" he asked, his fingers finding my ankle. Even through the material of my jeans, I felt another wave of desire move through me.

  "Come here," I demanded, hearing the pleading in my voice, and not caring at all that he could hear it too.

  "Soon," he promised, the bed indenting slightly as his knees moved up onto it.

  He didn't move over me though.

  His hands slid up my legs, knees, thighs, over my hipbones, in across my stomach, snagging my button and zip, then undoing them with practiced fingers. My hips lifted without me even being aware of telling them to do so. Then the material of my jeans and panties were moving down my thighs, knees, calves, then off my ankles.

  The bed shifted again as he moved further up, reaching to free each arm of my jacket, tossing it, then sliding my tee up my belly, over my breasts, then off as well, leaving us both completely naked, and not touching at all.

  It seemed like forever to my starved body, but was likely only a few long seconds before his hand drifted across my clavicle, then down between the center of my breasts, turning at the last possible second to move over my breast, his thumb stroking the hardened nipple in a slow circle before I lost the contact again.

  His fingertips grazed my ribs, my belly, the outside of my thigh, calf, ankle, then slowly back upward, moving in, gliding up the inside of my thigh, softly demanding access.

  My legs fell open wide on the mattress, needing his touch there like I needed my next breath, a breath that felt strangled under a weight in my chest that I had no name for, but somehow kn
ew it was significant, whatever it was.

  His fingertips played with the crease where my thigh met my sex, making my hips buck restlessly, begging for more.

  Just when I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore, his touch moved inward, stroking over my outer lips with the gentlest of caresses before just as softly circling my clit.

  Once there, his touch was constant, relentless, driving me steadily upward until I felt the deep tightening, threatening beautiful oblivion.

  And it was just then that I lost his touch.

  "No," I whimpered, grabbing for his hand, managing to snag his wrist, trying to pull it back downward.

  "Soon," he promised, moving to rest down on the bed beside me.

  "Now," I countered, rolling onto my side facing him, my leg draping over his hip, feeling his hardness press into my thigh, moving until I could feel the head stroke up my slit to press into my clit.

  My head slammed down into the center of his chest, my hands digging into his shoulders. "Like that," I moaned, moving my hips, letting the feeling wash through me again.

  Edison's answer was that deep, rumbling sound in his chest that always shivered through my insides deliciously.

  "I need you inside me," I demanded, rocking again. He didn't make a move to throw me on my back, to find a condom, to surge inside me to end the torment. "Edison, please," I begged.

  His body curled toward me, reaching beyond me to dig inside the nightstand drawer. I could feel the edge of a condom wrapper slide over my hip before he reached between us to slide it on.

  One hand stayed between us, stroking his cock back up to my clit for a second before dragging it down between my lips to press hard against the entrance, before releasing to slide his hand over my hip then back toward my ass, coaxing me inward, making me take him inside inch by thick inch.

  Once he was as deep as the position would allow, my restless body moved against him, rocking his cock in and out slightly.

  My nails bit into his skin as I tried to move faster, harder, get to oblivion as quickly as possible.

  On a frustrated whimper, I grabbed his arms harder, pulling him with me as I rolled onto my back, wrapping my legs around him, raking my hands up his back to settle on his shoulders as my hips rose up to grind against him, begging for movement.

  Edison's body pressed harder into mine as he went down on his elbows, his hands sliding under then curling into my shoulders, anchoring me in place just a second before his perfect control seemed to snap.

  Then there was no mistaking what he did, what was going on between us. There was no deeper meaning to suss out, no emotions uncovered.

  He fucked me. Each time his powerful body pulled backward then thrust forward, the bed slammed back against the unyielding wall.

  His cock thrust deeper than I even knew was possible, my body greedy, making my hips raise up to meet him as his fingers dug in hard enough to bruise.

  Even in the dark, just inches away, I couldn't make out his face, but could still feel his eyes somehow boring into me as his body got tighter, coiled, ready to burst.

  The pressure on my lower stomach felt oppressive, my walls around his cock so tight that it was nearly painful.

  "Lenny, come," Edison demanded.

  And just like that, he proved all my comments from earlier false.

  Because with his command, I came.

  Nearly screaming out his name with the intensity of pleasure that started at the base of my spine and exploded outward until it seemed to overtake me completely.

  I was vaguely aware of Edison's growl as my walls started pulsating around him, but he kept thrusting, kept fucking me until every last wave was done crashing through me before he slammed deep, and came with my name on his lips.

  His face buried in my neck after, taking deep breaths to try to bring himself back down.

  A similar battle was waging in my system as well, making my skin feel shaky, literally shaking, gently but unnervingly, making my arms hold him tighter, a little uncertain what the heck was going on.

  "Let me up," Edison demanded, as softly as his voice could manage. Some strange whimpering sound escaped me at that, making him press up to run his lips gently over mine. "I'll be right back," he promised, pulling against my hold, then moving off the bed toward the bathroom.

  In his absence, I forced my lazy limbs up the bed then under the covers, figuring maybe I was just cold.

  Edison came back less than a minute later, flicking on one soft light somewhere near the door so I could finally see his gorgeous body as he moved to the side of the bed, then climbed under the covers.

  As soon as he was settled, he reached for me, pulling me against his chest, squeezing.

  "Aftershocks," he rumbled, his fingers drifting up my spine to toy with my hair as I took a deep breath, feeling it start to settle the odd shaking.

  Aftershocks.

  What an appropriate term.

  "Hear the best way to get rid of them is to stay exactly where you are, and then sleep," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Then, just to make sure they're gone, you need to get up and have pancakes with me."

  "Pancakes, huh?" I asked, feeling my lips curving up, a motion that was so unfamiliar that the muscles actually hurt.

  "Afraid they are the only way to ensure you won't randomly have a resurgence," Edison went on, pleading his case.

  "Well," I heard myself conceding. "I mean, if chocolate chip pancakes are the cure, I guess I can suffer through it."

  "Chocolate chips, huh?" he asked, reaching to drag the blankets up higher over my suddenly chilled skin.

  "The only kind of pancakes worth having," I agreed. "Topped with some whipped cream instead of syrup? With a side of breakfast potatoes and a huge coffee? Oh yeah."

  "Skip the gym just once," he half-asked, half-demanded. "I'll get you your food, and coffee, and maybe we can just hang out some more."

  "For what purpose?" I heard myself ask, knee-jerk, then winced, not wanting to kill what was a nice moment.

  "Purpose?" he asked, and I could feel his beard brushing my hair as he shook his head. "Because you'd like it," he went with. "You can try to convince me - and even yourself - that you have no interest, but deep down we both know that isn't the case. You fight me on it because you want it too much, you think, for it being so soon."

  "It's nothing to do with how soon it is," I objected, though there was likely at least a bit of that.

  "What do you think is gonna happen if you let me in, Lenny?"

  That was a good question.

  I didn't have a good answer.

  I couldn't exactly tell you why I was the way I was other than it being a cocktail of negative experiences with men, and male and female relationships thanks to my mother.

  "How about, just this once, instead of just thinking it, you tell me."

  He made it sound so easy.

  To open up.

  It wasn't.

  It was so fucking hard to trust.

  But just this once, just this night, with this man, for a short period of time, maybe I could try.

  What did I think would happen if I let him in?

  "I think I will come to get used to you being in."

  There. It was out there.

  "And that would be so bad because?"

  Oh, here was the kicker.

  "Because you never stay."

  "You, who?"

  I took a deep breath, holding it for a second, then releasing it.

  "Men."

  There was so long of a pause before his arm squeezed me that I felt my stomach swirling ominously.

  "Love, you're not your mother."

  There was a long silence again, allowing his words to sink in. I knew I wasn't my mother. But there was always a fear that with one stupid move, I could be like her. I could allow my life to revolve around a man and whether he favored me that week or not.

  "And I'm not the men who dicked her - and you - over."

  "To be fair, they
weren't all bad," I admitted. "Some were genuinely good men who got duped into being with her."

  "Good men, huh? And yet you can't trust one goddamn man, Lenny. Something tells me your view of what makes a man good or not is warped."

  I shrugged a shoulder "They were decent. Even showed a little interest in me sometimes. But—"

  "No, we're gonna go right back to that one," Edison cut me off. "A good fucking man doesn't 'show a little interest sometimes' in the child of a woman he is dating. Sorry, but if you're involved with a woman who has a kid, you're either all in, or you need to get the fuck out."

  "It's not like they were all engaged to her, Edison."

  "How many of these men did you live with growing up?" My silence at that was all the answer he needed. "Exactly. If he opened his house up to you, but didn't start treating you like you mattered just as much as your mom did, Lenny, he's part of the problem."

  "You can't blame the men for my mother dragging me around like luggage."

  "No, but that is something different. We're talking about the men that you lived with for weeks? Months? Years? And they never even attempted to try to gain your trust? Sorry, love, but that is not a good man. Does your sister have trust issues too?"

  Ugh.

  Knife, gut.

  But he didn't know how much that hurt.

  "Letha, unlike me, had a father that loved and fought like hell to be in her life. Even when my mother made it illegal, he and I made it work so he could be there for her."

  "For her."

  "Yeah."

  "How old is your sister?"

  "Twenty-four."

  "And you're, what? Thirty?"

  "Two."

  "How old were you when you stopped living with him?"

  Okay.

  He was making a good point.

  "Twelve."

  "You spent four years of your childhood with this man. And yet you say she had a man to lean on, she had someone who fought to stay in her life. What the fuck about you, Lenny?"

  "I wasn't his."

  "You lived with him for four fucking years, Lenny. You might as well have been his."

  "Jake was a good man, Edison. As a whole. He hated my mother. He saw me as an extension of her. But he treated Letha like she was the reason the sun rose in the morning. And he will always have my respect for that. She deserved that."