“Are you okay, baby?” he whispers behind my ear. I nod.
“How have you been doing it for so long? You must have lost so many,” I say quietly.
He sighs and squeezes me tighter. “As much as it hurts us, it’s not half of what those kids feel, or what the families go through. I can’t stop.”
My chest moves on a silent sob. “Me either,” I admit.
“You make it better,” Batty confesses.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He moves his hands so that he can gently push me toward the bed. “Lie down, Sadie.”
I take my shirt off and place it on the dresser, when any other day I would toss it on the floor. Batty does the same. I crawl to the head of the bed and move to my back. In the moonlight, his muscles are highlighted with shadows as he takes off the rest of his clothes. He slides in next to me, propping his head up with a hand.
My chest feels tight, like I could shatter into tears at any second. I’m panting, my chest moving rapidly when he moves a hand to my chest. His eyes are on where he feels my heart racing. Batty leaves it there for several seconds before lifting up to put his lips over the beat. I close my eyes on a sigh, winding my hands in his hair, holding him to me.
I don’t realize how strongly I’m pulling him to me until he tries to move. Forcing my arms to let go, Batty moves to my lips. I open my eyes to watch as he brushes his lips against mine, so softly it’s like butterfly wings. My lips start to tremble. This is a new Batty, one I’ve never met. Maybe this is Finnigan?
His head dips to mine again, and he takes a sip from my lips. The sound is erotic in itself. He does it twice, three times more before opening his mouth. I watch his tongue open to catch my top lip. I part my lips for him and he dips in, so slowly my toes curl. Batty pulls back to study my face seriously then moves down to my mouth again.
We kiss so slowly, for so long that time slips away. Nothing exists but where our mouths speak in a language neither of us quite understand, but our bodies know how to translate.
When he moves over me hours later, it’s like the epilogue of a good book. There is no haste, everything is healed and resolved. Nothing is wrong with the world after those kisses. We move together as slowly as we kiss. We cling and gasp almost in unison.
The orgasm that comes is like a wave on a calm sea. Rippling in and making the sand smooth once again.
When Batty pulls away, my heart clenches, thinking that he will leave, but he grabs my hand. He’s staying, at least for now.
I move to my stomach and bend my arms under my chest. We’re silent, studying each other after this deviation from our norm. I move one hand to his chest and trace part of the angel’s wing around his ribcage. That’s one thing about Batty that I never would have expected, even before knowing he wore suits by day. The tattoo covers him from collarbone to navel, with the wings wrapping around the sides.
“Who are you?” I ask gently, fearful of breaking the spell around us.
He breathes deeply through his nose and I feel his lungs expand beneath my fingers. “You sure you want to know the answer to that?”
I nod, but stay silent. I’m torn, scared to death by the unknown, but curious despite that. Batty grabs my hand in his and kisses it after he rolls to face me, propping his head up again in the other hand. “I’m your Batty.”
I swallow past my disappointment and try not to get wrapped up in the possession he placed in my hands with that statement. “Who is the angel for?”
Batty places my hand on the sheet facedown and starts outlining it with his index finger. “A woman.”
My fingers spasm on the sheet before I force them to relax. Batty acts like he didn’t see it, or feel it happen.
“Was she pretty?” I ask, wanting to snatch the words back as soon as they leave my mouth in that small vulnerable voice. Shut up, girl!
He nods his head. “She was very pretty, beautiful, really.” He finally looks up from my fingers and leans in for a kiss. “Your eyes are turning green, I think, little Sadie,” he says into my mouth. When his tongue enters my mouth, I’m almost positive it’s to shut me up before I even get a chance to become indignant. When he pulls away, the way he sucks on his lower lip, as if to savor the taste of my mouth, has me forgetting his comment.
“You know what one of the things that had me guessing Popper wasn’t the real you was?”
I shake my head against the pillow. He moves the hair away from my neck softly, moving his hand once down my spine. On the trail back up, he traces the shell of my ear. “You don’t have any ink. Your ears aren’t even pierced.”
I shrug and his hand goes back to tracing my spine.
“So what?”
“So, that’s one of the first things that happens with your colleagues. But I have a theory on that.” Batty watches his hand as it goes from my neck to ass, and back up, as he talks. I shiver, and again Batty acts like he doesn’t notice.
“What’s your theory?” I ask warily, terrified he sees entirely too much.
He leans toward me and presses his lips to mine briefly. “You’re afraid of needles,” he whispers.
I’m shaking my head and trying to sit up before he finishes the sentence, but his hand that has been so soft palms the middle of my back and the pressure has me sliding back to the bed.
“You look away when the kids’ IVs are capped to leave the hospital. Usually it’s to look out the window, but if you can’t get there you dig through your purse. The thing that I love is that you won’t leave the room, no matter how uncomfortable you are. You won’t have the surgery . . .”
“So you think you have me all figured out, huh?” I mumble.
“No.” He laughs. “I definitely don’t have you figured out. Yet.”
Because I’m pretty sure he can hear my heart pounding out of my chest and echoing around the room, I admit, “I’m so scared.”
Batty reels me in and palms the back of my head until I’m situated under his chin. He sighs against my hair. “Oh, baby, me too.”
When I wake up he’s gone, but I’m not surprised. I am however, shocked to my bones to see a folded piece of paper on the nightstand.
Never took you for a snorer. –B
I fall back on the bed and giggle in relief. Last night seems like a dream. A wonderful, odd dream. If I didn’t have that delicious ache in my muscles from coming so hard, I would question if it happened. Oh, and the note. With one sentence he’s put us back onto the same page.
BATTY-
Last night was too fucking intense. I even sat and watched her sleep like some creeper. But there’s something magical about Sadie Dinah at rest. It’s rare and fleeting, like an eclipse of the sun. She’s so bright and . . . alive all of the time. She feels with her whole body. Christ, when she has an orgasm it’s like solar flares, singeing my body with her heat. She makes me want to stay in her orbit, forever.
I force myself to leave, but come back several times before I can tear my eyes away. Sadie sleeps like she lives, without caution, without discretion. She’s completely naked, on her back with the sheet around her ankles. I shake my head as she throws an arm onto the pillow I was using ten minutes ago. My girl’s a little abusive.
I take the stairs and close the door firmly behind me. I don’t have any business thinking those kinds of thoughts. She’s not mine. She can’t be.
~
It occurs to me several hours later that Batty and I are alike, in that we can’t take an easy path to anything. Why must people do that to themselves? I don’t fucking know, because it’s a pain in the ass.
“I think we should do an impromptu performance, raw, every episode moving forward.”
I glare at him and shake my head. Batty just gives a slight eye roll and swivels his leather chair around to look at the rest of the room.
We’re in a conference room discussing the layout of the show over its season. Somehow I know that he’s recommending this because he found out that I bargained for more money per performance. I
t’s kind of sweet, but I can look out for myself.
“It worked great the first time, but…” one of the producers trails off.
“It’s something no other show has brought to the table. As long as there are no copyright issues, I don’t see a problem.” Batty leans back in his fancy leather chair and steeples his hands in front of him with his elbows on the arms.
“Why don’t you ask the artists who would actually be performing if we want to do it? Why are you talking around us?” I ask, trying to keep the pissed off out of my voice. Really? He’s going to try to get them to agree, like I’m not sitting right here? I’ve played that game my whole professional life. I will not have another person tell me where to sing, or who my audience will be. He can damn well ask.
The production leader concedes and motions with his hand. I raise my eyebrows before looking around the room. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that meant to be a question?”
I hear Batty sigh across the wide table, but ignore him.
“Popper—”
“Sadie,” I interrupt.
“Right. Sadie, would you be willing to perform with only the instruments on hand each episode? Do you think you can perform on the fly no matter the venue with zero practice time?” he tries to needle me.
Now it’s my turn to lean back in my chair. I purse my lips and tap my finger against them. My eyes cut to Batty, and my stomach flutters seeing his eyes riveted to my mouth.
“Well, Gary—”
“Jerry,” he interrupts.
“Right. As long as my terms stay the same, I see no problems. Daniel? Fandy? What do you think?”
Fandy sighs and puts his hands flat on the table. His rings make several clacking sounds as he taps them before going still. “The only way I can see it being successful is if we have a rehearsal once a week. I don’t even know if that would work, but at least we would have something to fall back on so we don’t look like amateurs.”
“I think that’s what the public will like about it, honestly,” Daniel speaks up. He shrugs his wide shoulders. “What if we let the audience vote on what song we sing and it ends each episode? Or we can just wing it from an approved copyright list. How are we going to be judging these kids if we can’t do it ourselves, is my thinking.”
Shit, that was a good point. My eyes scan the room and see several people nodding their heads and taking notes.
“Alright, we’ll get back to you on that. Thank you for your input. Now let’s move on to the dress code…”
An eternity later, we’re released for the day. I stand and raise my arms over my head to stretch. Eight hours going over each twist and turn of the show was so draining all I want is a bed.
Why in the hell did I think heels would be a good idea today? I wasn’t even on my feet and they hurt like I tried to run a mile. I force myself not to limp and make my way down the hall to the elevators.
“I noticed Natasha wasn’t there today.” I hear rumbling behind me. Stalking, more like. I can’t help but smile and look over my shoulder.
“Nope.”
“Do you think they know about the fact that you signed an amendment to the contract, and she signed off on it before this meeting today?”
I step into the elevator and press the down button before looking at Batty. “Nope.”
Batty steps onto the elevator with me, and about eight other people. I stand facing forward, while he leans against the side of the car. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he smirks, showing me a shallow dimple. God, those are the best. His eyes sparkle, and track my movements when I swallow. Is it fucking hot in here?
“Hey, Brennick, do you want to go to dinner with us? The team needs to rehash a few things,” one of the women in our group offers, sidling up next to him and leaning on his arm.
Batty blinks, tearing his eyes away from me. “No, thank you. I have a plane to catch.”
I’m both relieved that he’s not going out with them, or specifically the woman trying to bat her eyes like she wants to take off into flight, and disappointed that our little showdown doesn’t have an opportunity to escalate.
When the doors finally open, Batty somehow manages to get behind me as we exit. I feel his hand on the small of my back and somehow feel reassured. So stupid.
“Where are you parked?” he asks as we exit the building. I look over at his three piece suit and the same thought runs through my head, the one I’ve been thinking all. Day. Long. I want to grab him by that tie and yank him down to me. I want to tear open his expensive shirt and hear the buttons pinging on the floor. I blink. What did he ask?
“My car,” I mumble. “I had to park a few blocks away. Not all of us have designated spots wherever we go.
“I’ll drive you,” he says simply, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward his black car.
“Oh, no it’s right over—” the door shutting cuts off my protest. Damn he moves fast. “There,” I tell the interior.
Batty starts the car with a roar that has several heads turning on the street, whipping into traffic without looking first. I press my thighs together as the vibration of the powerful engine gets me hotter. Holy fuck. He turns a corner and I want to yell at him to run the red light so that I can get off.
I thought Batty in a cape and mask made me hot, but seeing him in a suit causes flashbacks of him bending me over the conference table. Spending hours in his presence hasn’t dulled the effect at all. Instead, every shift of his weight, every tap of his fingers had me in hyperdrive the whole day. I probably won’t be able to make it home without taking the edge off.
I arch my back as subtlety as possible to get contact where I need it.
“Fuck,” Batty rumbles quietly, before gunning the engine. My mouth drops open on a gasp and my eyes fall closed. I’m about to get off all over his leather seats.
Suddenly the car tilts and my hands fly out to catch myself. I open my eyes to see brick on either side of the car and Batty yanking the emergency break. He pops my seatbelt and yanks on the button of my jeans so hard that my hips lift.
My eyes jump to his face, those grey eyes watching me as he bites his lip. I want to bite that lip. Why did he beat me to it? Batty doesn’t even try to push my pants down, just shoves his hand inside and straight into me. My hand grips the doorframe and I spread my legs to give him better access.
“You think I don’t know how fucking hot you are? If they wouldn’t have noticed you probably would have been under the table sucking me off, wouldn’t you, baby?” he growls, pressing his stubbled cheek against my forehead as I slide down the seat to get more of his fingers. They’re moving, circling, plunging hard, making me gasp and moan in the tiny space.
“Yes, yes, yes. I waited for you to go to the bathroom but you didn’t. I was going to do it then,” I pant, yanking his tie like I wanted to and biting that lip when it gets close enough.
“AH,” he groans, yanking his hand hard while he curls his fingers inside of me. I shriek and start shaking. I have to let go of his tie to dig my nails into the forearm that’s attached to those magic fingers.
“You think you were fooling anyone trying to get off in my car? You think I would let you get off in my car with me sitting right here?”
I lick my lips and stare at Batty’s mouth, so close to an orgasm I can feel it starting in my toes. Why do we always have to talk during sex?
“God, I’m so close. Shut the fuck up,” I demand.
He smirks an inch from my face as I moan. “If you want to come, fucking tell me. I’m right fucking here, and I’m ten times better than anything else you’ll ever get.”
“Shut up shut up shut up,” I mumble, pushing my head back in the seat and grinding my core into his hand.
“What do you want, Sadie?” he whispers against my mouth, brushing my lips with his words as his hand rocks me back and forth.
“I want to come. Harder, harder. It’s been such a long day.”
He flattens his hand against my clit, curling his fingers at just the right s
pot and my hand flies to the window as my world explodes. My head jerks back, and Batty latches onto my throat and bites the tendon there, sending more shocks through my system.
After I stop convulsing, I sink into the seat, and it’s the best fucking seat I’ve ever sat in, ever. I swallow, trying to catch my breath, but open my eyes when something touches my lips. Batty is pressing his glistening fingers to my mouth, so I lock eyes with him as I open them and swirl my tongue around and between, licking him clean. His breath hitches and I clench at the sound, realizing we’re not done yet.
I take him by that tie that’s skewed now and push him as hard as I can against his seat. He raises his eyebrows and sits back to watch as I take off my boots and slide one leg of my pants off. Batty is quick to catch on, sliding his seat back as far as the two-seater will go—which isn’t a whole hell of a lot—and pulls out his wallet. I climb into his seat before he’s done and he throws the wallet into the vacated one.
I watch his pulse as he takes for-fucking-ever to get the thing out, like there’s no rush. But I see that little beat under his jaw, tapping hard against the tender skin. I yank his belt, causing him to grunt and look back at me. That’s better. I want him to remember me every time he gets in this car. No matter who gets into this car, no matter where he goes, he’ll remember this day before I’m done.
When he slides into my hand, all hard steel and silk, I grip him and squeeze the top, hard.
“Fuck, Sadie.” His hands fumble with the wrapper so I take it away. He’s taking too long. Ripping it with my teeth, I keep my grip firm as I slide it down his length. As soon as he’s properly covered I rise to bring him where he belongs. I want him to wear me like this, like his own personal cock suit so that no bitches ever think they have a chance.
With my foot in the passenger seat, and a knee beside Batty’s thigh, I wiggle my hips to get some friction before I start moving. Tingles shoot up my spine and I shiver. Batty pulls at my waist, arching my back as I resist to stay upright. I want to see his face as I blow his mind. He yanks my shirt down and latches onto my nipple.
Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) Page 8