by J. J. Sorel
He kissed me, and I tasted my release when his tongue entered my mouth.
Desperate for him to enter me, I opened my legs wide. He mumbled something about being turned on as he stared at my drenched pussy.
Deep and hard, that first thrust made me cry out. He looked at me to make sure I was okay. Holding onto his big arms, I impelled him to continue.
Soon the pain turned into addictive pleasure, of the kind I couldn’t get enough of.
I tingled all over. Each wave of heat threatened to take me far.
His face reddened as his thrusts built with urgency.
My pussy spasmed tightly around his cock until I finally surrendered to sensations of fiery waves that made me scream.
As he squeezed his eyes shut, Bronson’s jaw tensed, and his head fell back. My name left his lips as he rode his climax. After that, we fell onto our backs, panting.
At that moment, while my breath slowly steadied, I just knew I was in love, even though it could have just been the flood of hormones or that heady high that comes from connecting deeply with someone through the sharing of passion. Whichever way, I gave in to that profound sense of belonging to another soul.
He’d become a part of me.
The past had turned into meaningless dust.
It was early morning when I woke. Finding the bed empty, I rose and grabbed the sheet, which I wrapped around me, and headed for the living room. There I discovered Bronson with pen in hand, writing something down.
Gazing up at me with those chocolate eyes, he looked so boyish I wanted to devour him. His naked buff chest, where my addicted fingers and lips had feasted earlier, looked tan and smooth. Bronson wore loose gray sweats that hung really low, showing off a trail that led to the promise of more sheet-gripping pleasure.
My eyes settled on that tattoo, which I’d been so careful not to rub against, noticing that it was exposed at last.
“Hey. I didn’t wake you, I hope?” he asked with a faint smile.
As I shook my head, my eyes fell onto the mark on his chest.
I stepped closer to look at it, given Bronson had been vague about its design.
He stared back at me with that typical half grin of his that suggested so much while saying so little. His dark, thick hair, as usual, was messed up perfectly from his constant fingering.
As I moved closer to study the tattoo, my face crumpled in disbelief. “You have my name on your chest.”
“I have,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
He leaned back in his chair in order to study my reaction, which had gone from disbelief to tears in one breath. I’d never been such a crybaby until meeting Bronson, which was kind of embarrassing upon reflection.
Rising, he came to me. I dropped my sheet and fell into his arms, careful to place my head against the other side of his hard chest. He seemed so tall as he crouched down to hold me.
“A shower?”
I nodded and followed him as though in a dream.
“Is it permanent?” I finally asked.
“It’s a real tattoo, Ava.”
“A heart and a rose. My last name is…”
“Rose,” he interjected. “It’s a beautiful name. It suits you because you’re insanely beautiful.”
“Insanely?” I laughed.
“Yeah, well… I’m so into you, I’ve lost my mind.”
“But we’ve only just met,” I said yet again.
Testing the water first, Bronson lowered his pants.
My body nearly collapsed from an overdose of attraction. With that perfectly proportioned physique and shadowed chiseled jawline accentuating that sensuous, almost carnal mouth, I couldn’t believe such a perfect specimen of masculinity could want an ordinary girl like me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, running his hand over my breasts and drawing me close against him again.
“I’m wondering how I can keep a man like you interested.”
Detaching from me, he stared deeply into my eyes in that scrutinizing, soul-reaching way that made my knees go weak. “You’re a young, beautiful rosebud that will bloom and become even more beautiful. Even after a rose has died, there’s a heart. Its beauty remains forever.”
I melted under the cascade of hot water.
“When did you become so deep and romantic, Bronson?” A tear slid down my cheek.
A sad smile touched his lips. “I’ve always been on the outside. Alone in many ways. That tends to make one think about things.”
He placed some body wash on a sponge and massaged it over my body. The intensity of his focus and his demonstrative body language left little doubt in my mind about Bronson’s devotion to me. As he swept over my contours, Bronson expressed an appreciative groan that transmitted straight to my sex.
I touched his cock, which was steel hard. In the broad light of the morning, seeing Bronson naked pumped unbridled lust through my veins. He’d made me insatiable, which came as a surprise, given that I’d never had such a high libido before. While my girlfriends purred and gushed over the latest heartthrobs, I preferred balancing a book on my thighs rather than an oversexed frat boy.
I lowered myself to my knees. Arousal dripped saliva onto my tongue as I licked my lips.
He was so big my mouth had to stretch wide, and my jaw ached as I moved in and out. Bronson leaned against the glass cubicle, his eyes shut and his lips apart. His extended groan encouraged me to continue moving my mouth up and down his shaft.
Sore jaw or not, I kept going until his distended veins pulsated on my tongue. My lips pursed and gripped his thick length.
“I’m going to come,” he said in a strangled tone.
On a mission to take all of him, my tongue flickered away at the creamy head, sucking him dry as hot, thick cream shot to the back of my throat.
Bronson tried to pull away, but I remained steadfast.
After he returned to the land of the living, he took me into his arms again.
The water went cold, and we both jumped out.
“I have to move somewhere with a better hot water system,” he grumbled.
I responded with a giggle as he dried me vigorously and slapped my bottom in the process.
While I dressed, Bronson made us coffee and toast.
As I entered the living room, I found him walking about with a towel around his waist.
“I can do the rest while you change,” I said.
Placing a plate of toast in front of me, Bronson said, “You don’t like a half-naked man serving you?”
“I like it very much. Too much.” I chuckled. “You’re like a male supermodel.”
He sniffed. “Not with my record. I’m nothing.”
Searching for a glimmer of a smile, I stopped buttering my toast. Instead, his serious, almost cold expression sent a shiver through me.
Softening my tone, I said, “Hey, I’m sure you’ll clear your name somehow.”
“I don’t know how. All I’ve got are photos.”
He went off to the bedroom, leaving me to deal with my jarred nerves. Bronson’s mood shift had taken me by surprise.
A few moments later, having changed into jeans and a worn-out gray T-shirt, Bronson returned, still in a dark mood.
“What photos?” I asked.
He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee, he replied. “I’ve got some images of Justin doing blow.”
“Cocaine?”
Biting away at his lip, Bronson nodded.
A picture of someone who would never rest until he’d walked somewhere dark suddenly appeared before me.
That alone should have made me run.
Crime, retribution, drugs were all the subjects I enjoyed in books or even films, but in real life, I was out of my depth.
Bronson gathered his designs and placed them in a portfolio, reminding me that he wasn’t just some twisted guy in search of trouble but a uniquely talented individual.
He stopped what he was doing, and his gaze bore into me again. It was
unnerving, making me shift in my chair.
“Am I too dark for you?” he asked. His forehead lowered.
“A little,” I said.
“Then why are you here?”
I met his glare in the hope that he was kidding. Instead, my heart clenched.
“I… want to be here.” My voice was thin and jittery. “What are you doing, Bronson?”
He held my gaze, steady and tight, but then his eyes softened, and he came to me and held me close.
My chest collapsed, and I started to cry.
“I’m sorry, angel. You’re too good for me.”
I pulled away. “Are you trying to find an excuse to leave me?”
He combed through his hair with his fingers almost violently. “No fucking way. I want you.” He pointed to his tattoo.
“Then why say that to me?” I asked.
“Because I want to fucking shine for you. Make you proud of me.”
“I already am. Your drawings, your talent. You…”
He cupped my head with his hands, and his lips took possession of my mouth again.
It was a passionate, hungry kiss as his tongue tangled with mine.
Just as his hands caressed my breasts and his mouth ate at mine, the phone went off.
He ignored it. A few moments later, it sounded again.
We separated. “I should take that,” he said.
I covered myself with the sheet again. Bronson kept watching me as he spoke on the phone.
After he ended the call, Bronson said, “I’m sorry for being a fruitcake.” He let out a deep breath. “I should probably see a shrink. I had a few sessions in prison, and that kinda helped.”
“You can speak to me about anything, Bronson.” I nodded reassuringly. “I’m part of you, and you’re part of me. We’re in this together.”
His face cleared, and his eyes flickered with warmth, something I’d grown so needy for that I would have done anything just to keep seeing him like that.
Touching my cheek, he leaned in and kissed me tenderly. As he drew away, his eyes shone with sincerity. “Marry me.”
I stepped back, my eyes widening in shock. “Ha?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You’re breathtaking, Ava.”
“It’s way too soon, Bronson. Let’s get to know each other first. You don’t really know me. I’m actually quite a boring person.”
“Bullshit. I love listening to you talk. You’re intelligent. You never bore me. You’re exciting to be with.” He held both of my hands. His eyes had a hint of vulnerability. And again, Bronson reminded me of a lost boy.
“But that’s only because I’m new.”
“New?” His eyebrows met. “You’ve been here all my life.” He touched his heart.
I shuddered because that reminded me of something Aggie had said about Monty.
“Bronson. I’m new. We’ve only slept together twice.”
“Don’t you feel it?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting.
“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be here, otherwise. But your intensity….”
He stepped back. “I frighten you, is that it?” Bronson’s face had gone dark again. He let go of my hands and raked his hair.
Not waiting for my response, he turned his back and moved about, clearing things away.
As I followed him around, I answered, “No.” But then he turned to look at me. And when I saw that dark, restless need in his eyes, I confessed, “Maybe you do a little.”
Bronson rubbed his neck. Eating me alive with his gaze, he just went stone cold and looked away.
“Bronson, look at me,” I asked, my voice cracking.
He pointed to the door. “Leave.”
I froze. “What?”
He turned his back to me again, and tears streamed down my face. How did we get to this? I wondered. A moment earlier, it had been undying love.
In a daze, I dressed quickly and left.
My legs trembled as I leaned up against the elevator wall. I was relieved to be alone because tears poured down my cheeks.
I reached the ground floor and drifted through the glass doors back onto the street like a ghost. Stepping onto the pavement, I nearly ran into the crowds going about their busy morning.
Drowning in a whirlpool of emotion, I moved forward slowly. After I reached the end of the block, I sensed someone close behind and turned.
Bronson touched my arm, his mouth wide open from puffing.
It seemed as though we were in our own little bubble standing there staring at each other. At that time of the morning, when people had to be somewhere, the masses moved around us.
After what seemed like ages, I collapsed into his arms. I had to. It would have seemed cruel to do otherwise. Bronson looked so broken.
“I’m sorry, angel.”
After we unlocked arms, words escaped me. Incoherent from the deluge of emotion swamping me, all I could do was stare down at my feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BRONSON
“Don’t leave me, Ava. That was my fucked-up head in there. I promise to work on myself.” I couldn’t believe those words actually left my lips. I’d never heard myself pleading like that before. It seemed as though years of pent-up emotion spewed out of me, as though a demon had taken over me.
And I hated myself for it.
“You’re the one that threw me out,” she said at last.
I shook my head, trying to make sense of myself. “You had this look on your face.”
“What look was that?” Ava challenged.
As I visualized her shocked grimace, I tried to find the right words to describe it.
Ava interjected. “It’s just that it threw me, I suppose. That tattoo… you asking me to marry you…”
“Would you have preferred I didn’t get the tattoo?” I asked.
“No… but you had it done while we were broken up. That I don’t understand. You must have been seriously confident that I’d take you back.”
“It was nothing like that. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. I passed a parlor and…” I shrugged. “Hey, let’s not talk here.” I pointed over to the park.
Ava allowed me to take her hand. When I felt how cold and shaky it was, I hated myself even more for throwing shit into what should have been a great morning.
My chest relaxed when we hit the avenue of trees, a path I normally jogged on to sweat out my rage.
We found a bench and sat down.
I turned so that I could stare Ava straight in the face.
“Even if you hadn’t taken me back, I’d still carry that tattoo with total conviction. Because for me, Ava, it was love at first sight.” I took a breath as I drank in her eyes pooling with tears. “I want you so badly it hurts.”
“But it shouldn’t hurt, should it?” she asked, taking a tissue out of her bag.
“It did when you left me. It cut deep. In many ways, that tattoo helped mask the pain I felt. And you’re wrong about me. I’ve never been confident about anything. I got that tattoo more for myself, as a testimony to true love. Whether it’s one night or an eternity, I know I found that with you, Ava.”
“I feel the same, Bronson,” she replied with a breathy voice that made me want to kiss her passionately. “I had a terrible time of it, too. And after you told me to leave earlier, you may as well have dug a knife into me.”
“I’m sorry, angel.” I stroked her damp cheek. “I’m defensive and suspicious to a fault. I jump to conclusions all the time about everyone. Especially those closest to me. Ava, you’ve got to understand that being left alone in that crib has made it difficult for me to believe that I’ll ever be worthy of anyone’s love.”
Having never voiced that before, I hated how pathetic it sounded. Ava’s response was pity as her limpid eyes drowned in tears, causing people’s heads to turn as they went about their “normal” lives.
I didn’t give a shit, even if displaying emotion in public challenged my private inclinations. But I’d cha
nged. That last admission had come out of nowhere before I’d had a chance to stop it.
If anything, it exposed how fucking weak I was.
“God, Bronson… Shit… I’d never do anything to hurt you. I want to be with you. It’s just that marriage at this stage is a bit too rushed. Maybe if we were seriously drunk in Las Vegas or something, you know how you hear those stories of dwarfs marrying people, or Elvis impersonators acting as priests.”
If she was trying to make me laugh, she succeeded. A raucous eruption from my chest left my lips. When it settled, I replied, “Ava… if and when we marry—that’s if you’ll forgive me…” She squeezed my hand, which answered that very nicely for me. “There won’t be a dwarf or an Elvis impersonator within sight.”
“Now you’re being dwarfist,” she said, cocking her pretty head.
“That’s so ridiculous I won’t dignify it with a response,” I said, returning her smirk.
She looked up at me, and her smile faded. “I now understand why you kicked me out.”
I stroked her thick, brown hair, which glistened with red highlights in the morning sun. Her crookedly buttoned blouse brought a glimmer of a smile back to my lips. She was even more beautiful for it.
Ava gazed up at me with that uncertain, shy smile. I rolled my tongue over my lips so that I could make a meal of hers.
I towered over Ava more than usual because she wore flat shoes.
“I want to protect you. Not push you away with my crazy shit.”
Before she could respond, I took her into my arms.
We kissed as passionately as if it was our first kiss.
Because it was a sunny morning, there were dog walkers, joggers, and every other type of humanity crowding the park, but I didn’t care. Kissing as if it were midnight in the middle of the morning owned its own special magic.
“Are we good?” I asked, my chin touching my neck as I studied her face.
She nodded with a smile. “Yeah. I get it, Bronson. You’ve had a difficult time.”
“I don’t want your pity, Ava. I couldn’t stand it.”
“What about empathy?” A curl came to her lips.
“I think I can handle that.” I brushed her cheek. “Tonight?”