Chances Are
Page 6
Chapter Six
An unforgettable dream
Rory in his uniform earlier was beautiful. Rory naked on his knees in the middle of the bed I never slept in was stunning. His body was a long lean swathe of muscle and golden skin that lit up the dark sheets and the dark places in my soul I'd kept sealed off until today. I didn't know what he expected, but he just continued to kneel there, exactly where I put him, quiet, waiting. No questions, no demands, nothing crossed those swollen tempting lips but gusts of whiskey-scented breath. Maybe he does know when to keep his mouth shut after all.
I felt his gaze on me, following me about the room as I took my time removing my own clothes. He wasn't impatient, not demanding. Slow and easy, folding them and putting them aside, nudging my shoes under the bed, watching him out the corner of my eye. I liked the idea of him waiting so patiently for me. Something made me want to see how long he'd wait, but another something was warning me against letting him see how much I liked it, how much I liked him. I should just climb up on that bed and quit indulging myself. I should have learned from the past that my ways aren't for everyone. Starting out like this…maybe it wasn't a good thing.
Maybe instead of worrying about him finding out just what a kinky bastard I was, I should probably worry that he was drunk and didn't know what I was doing at all. I should probably wonder if he realized what I was up to. I should probably give him a blanket and an aspirin and tell him to sleep it off.
I should definitely not be thinking about all the things I want to do with that sleek expanse of golden skin. I should speak, tell him, but I didn't really want to scare him off, not when I'd only just realized I wanted him. "Rory?"
"Chance?" Was that mockery wavering in his voice?
Maybe he wasn't as naïve as his golden image made him seem. "Are you drunk?"
"Pleasantly buzzed, I’d say." His head tilted to the side as though he was thinking about it. "Yes."
A sigh escaped me. His chest heaved as though he'd taken a deep breath, but the rest of him remained, so still, like a statue poised, or maybe…he was too warm for a statue. They're cold stone or metal…He was the model posing for the sculptor, maybe. It was tempting to let him wait, to see how long he'd hold that pose, with his hands braced behind his back, thighs faintly spread, thick cock rising in an arc of temptation, flushed and eager.
But I was very conscious of our one-sided adventure earlier this evening, and I did owe him something, regardless of what he might think. And completely separate from what I wanted from him now.
Time to clear the slate.
We started over from here along a different path, but we had to start on equal footing. Another mistake I made with Cannon. We never existed as equals…not socially, not sexually.
"Fuck. You're thinking of him, aren't you?" Rory jerked out of position and nearly flew off the bed before I could stop him.
I nearly let him go then. But I knew I'd regret it. "Rory. I’m not so much thinking about him, as thinking about how to do things with you so you and me don't turn out like me and him."
That stopped him. He dropped the pants he'd grabbed from the floor and turned to sit on the bed. I let him sit, sat next to him, but not too close. "What do you mean?"
"What did the guys tell you about Cannon?" Because of course they had to have…He seemed to know too much about me.
"Is that his name? Cannon? They didn't know that. They just said that you were a good cop until he fucked up your life."
Well, that was one way of putting it, but hearing it like that told me that keeping my own counsel over the events hadn't stopped people thinking what they wanted about it. "Gossip isn't always correct."
His cheeks flushed and he looked like a kid caught in the cookie jar or something. "So he's not the reason you quit?"
"I was injured in the line of duty. I couldn't do the job any more. That's why I quit. Cannon was the reason for a lot of other things, but not for that."
"Are you going to tell me about him?"
I made a snap decision. "No. I’m not. Are you going to tell me about every girl you kissed and every cock you sucked before you walked into my office earlier tonight?"
"Fuck no!" His brows shot up and he jerked away from me.
"Then?"
"They were different. They never meant anything to me."
Hmm. "You think the fact that he meant something to me means I have to share him with you? Why? You think you have that kind of meaning to me? You're a great cock sucker, kid, but a blow job isn't an all access pass."
This time I was ready for him to bolt and I had him on his back on the bed with his hands in one tight grip while I squeezed his jaw with the other to make him face me.
His eyes were bitter, angry. Seemed a little out of context for what had happened between us so far. "Kid…" I did my best to make the warning clear. He was breathing hard, straining under me.
"I’m not a kid. I'm twenty-six and my fucking name is Rory. Use it."
"Sir."
"What?" His brows drew together in confusion, his lips twisted. He bucked up and his cock brushed my skin harder, leaving a hot damp wet spot on my thigh.
"Use it, Sir." His whole body went limp beneath me and his lips parted on a whoosh of air. His cock ground against my thigh as he reacted to just using that word. I felt a little lighter, a little less like an asshole.
"Sir."
He did understand then, what I wanted, what was going to happen between us. Something that had been tight and hard inside since Cannon pushed me away loosened a little, and I swear that bastard slipped right inside. His tongue slicked over his lips, and his eyes were glued to me, searching for something. "Rory, I'm set in my ways. I like to do things the way I like to do them. As long as you can deal with that, I’m willing to give this attraction between us the chance to develop."
"You mean this?" He tugged against my grip, testing, not really trying to get away any more.
I nodded. My heart in the back of my throat told me his answer was important, more than I wanted it to be. There was more that I should tell him…more that we should talk about, but his near departure had made me urgently aware that I wanted him to stay.
Sex was one way to convince him to do that. I wouldn't fuck him. I wasn't ready to consider that option, but there were still all the things that I imagined before we'd gotten off track.
I bent to kiss him again, holding his jaw still, keeping him motionless, the way I liked it. I explored his mouth as thoroughly as possible, tipping and turning his chin to change angles, to deepen the kiss. When he tried to rub my tongue with his, I nipped it sharply and he subsided.
He writhed against me, grinding his cock into my thigh, groaning into my mouth. I allowed it. I could've stopped it, dropped my full weight on him, pinned him to the bed the way I wanted to, but I didn't. His cock left damp trails across my skin, and that dampness promised a lot.
He was amenable. That was enough for now. Baby steps. Maybe we'd get where I wanted to go eventually, but we'd have to work it out together, learn each other. A whimper escaped into my mouth, and he stilled, then jerked against me. The rich earthy scent of semen exploded around us. A warm gush of fluid coated my thigh. I let go of his hands and gentled my kiss.
It was a good place to start again. I'd gotten mine earlier, and this was for him, and within certain parameters, he could have what he wanted. He tore his mouth away from mine. "Is that it?" he asked.
Is that it? "No. It's a starting place, though."
The End
Look for more of Chance's adventures in
Second Chances Are
Coming March 1, 2013
From Pulp Friction
More Pulp Friction Coming Soon!
January
Wicked Solutions by Havan Fellows
Pulp Friction No.2
January 15, 2013