Waiting for Him

by Stormy Glenn

  "Wait!" Lyn struggled to sit up until I let him go. "Where's Jude?"

  "He's riding in the other vehicle," Vinnie explained. "I didn't think it would be good for him to see you hurt as I didn't know what your injuries were."

  Lyn dropped his head back down on my shoulder.

  "Go, Vinnie," I said again. "We need to get out of this neighborhood."

  Like now.

  I tightened my arms around Lyn when the SUV shot forward. I prayed we made it out of the neighborhood before we ran into too much trouble. The need to get Lyn to safety was riding me hard.

  I wondered if this was how Sal felt every time Lany left the house…or walked down the stairs…took a shower. Basically, anytime Lany moved an inch. I didn't know how he handled it. The overwhelming sense of anxiety was gut-wrenching.

  I wasn't thrilled that I was feeling this way over a man I knew I couldn't keep. Lyn wasn't mine. He would never be mine. I knew that deep down in my soul. He was too sweet, too innocent for me.

  I was just too stupid to listen to myself.

  Chapter Ten

  Lyn

  I sighed when we pulled up in front of Sal and Lany's estate. I wasn't sure we would ever make it. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see the big brick building in my life. I couldn't wait to get inside.

  I wanted a bath, some food, and a very long nap.

  Maybe then I'd be ready to face the world, and the shit storm my life had turned into. I still wasn't sure, although I knew it wasn't over. I could feel that deep in my gut. My life was still in explosion mode.

  I perked up as we drove through the gate and up the driveway to the main house. Brant was waiting on the front steps. As soon as the vehicle stopped, he came down the steps and opened the door.

  "Thank you, Brant," Clarke said as he climbed out then turned and reached back for me.

  It went to show just how well-trained Brant was when the man didn't wrinkle his nose in disgust when I climbed out. I was quite ripe from sitting in that damn dumpster.

  I offended myself.

  "A room has been prepared for you, Mr. Lyn."

  "Thank you, Brant." I smiled. "We'll need another room for—"

  "I have been informed," Brant replied. "A room has been made ready for the young sir next to Master Jamie and Master TJ's rooms. I felt that they might be able to help settle him."

  That was actually good thinking.

  "Any word from Sal or Lany?"

  "The lieutenant called thirty minutes ago to say Mr. Lany was getting some stitches in his forehead and they would be home directly after."

  I winced. "Stitches?"

  "Yes, sir." Brant's lips twitched. "I believe Mr. Delvecchio is giving thought to not allowing Mr. Lany near any vehicles for the foreseeable future."

  I snickered. "At least there were no elephants involved."

  This time.

  "If you will deposit your clothes outside your door, Mr. Lyn, I will make sure they are properly cleaned."

  I chuckled. "Pretty rank, huh?"

  "Yes, sir."

  I glared at Clarke. "That's what happens when you get tossed in a dumpster."

  Brant raised an eyebrow, but didn't give any outward sign that he found that unusual except to say, "Yes, sir."

  He was an interesting man.

  "Which room is mine?"

  "The second door down at the top of the stairs," Brant replied. "Mr. Castellano informed that you would be in need of a shower. There are extra towels in the bathroom and a set of Mr. Lany's pajamas on the counter."

  "You are very efficient, Brant."

  "Of course, sir." Brant gave a slight nod of his head. "Mrs. Martinez is cooking food for everyone. It will be served in the dining room when you are ready."

  "Thank you, Brant," I said over my shoulder as I started toward the stairs. I stopped before I got there and turned back. "The briefcase."

  "Vinnie has it, Lyn." Clarke pointed up the stairs. "Go take a shower so I can see to your wounds."

  "What about Jude?"

  I couldn't leave the kid hanging.

  "I'll see to Jude as well. Now go."

  I knew I was fighting a useless battle. Clarke was very much a take charge type of guy. It might be why he made such a great second-in-command of the SWAT unit. He was a natural leader.

  I just didn't want him leading me.

  Not anymore.

  That ship had sailed.

  Really.

  Maybe if I kept telling myself that, I'd actually start to believe it.

  I was doubtful.

  I trudged up the stairs then down the hallway to the room Brant had told me to use. It was the same one I'd used in the past, so I was familiar with the layout. I stepped inside the room and quickly stripped off my clothes then dropped them outside the door. Personally, I hoped Brant burned them. I never wanted to see them again.

  I nearly stumbled in my haste to get into the bathroom and turn the shower on. I knew, as much as I needed to get clean, I needed to make it quick. I was losing steam. If I stretched things out too long, I'd pass out from exhaustion.

  The second the water was hot enough, I climbed into the shower. I groaned as the hot water sprayed down over my aching body.

  Had anything ever felt so good?

  I never would have made it a hundred years ago. Whoever invented the hot water heater should be sainted. This was glorious.

  I stood there for a few minutes and let the water beat down on my tired and sore muscles before reaching for the shampoo. Even with the clean water washing the dirt and grime away, I could still smell that disgusting dumpster.

  I washed my hair—twice—then soaped down my body from head to toe. By the time I rinsed off, I was starting to feel a bit more human. I certainly smelled better. I turned off the water then opened the shower door and reached for the stack of towels…which were not where they had been when I stepped into the shower.

  I glanced around then groaned. "Give me the towel, Clarke."

  I was too tired for this shit.

  Clarke held the towel out in front of him, stretching it as far as it would go. "I'm just here to help, Lyn."

  I seriously doubted that, but I was too tired to argue.

  I didn't miss the way Clarke's eyes roamed over my naked body as I stepped out of the shower and walked toward him. The hard line of his cock pressing against his pants told me how much he liked what he was seeing.

  When I went to reach for the towel, Clarke held it out of the way. "Can we not do this, Clarke?"

  "Just stand still."

  I rolled my eyes, but did as Clarke instructed.

  He started with my hair, rubbing one of the towels over it until it was pretty much dry. Then he grabbed another one and began drying off my body. First, my shoulders and then he moved slowly down until he'd even dried the bottoms of my feet.

  His touch was as gentle as it was thorough. By the time he stood and dropped the used towels in the hamper, I was probably as dry as I was going to get.

  I reached for the clothes Brant had put on the counter for me, but Clarke grabbed my wrist. "Clarke."

  "I need to see to your injuries, Lyn. Remember?"

  Yeah, I pretty much had.

  I blamed it on my fried brain. I had used up the last of my ability to function taking a shower. I was beyond remembering pretty much anything.

  I did remember how Clarke's hands felt on my body, especially when he stroked one down my side and over my hip to the curve of my ass.

  "What are you doing, Clarke?"

  I wasn't injured there.

  Clarke's low, deep chuckle sparked something in my body that had been dormant for weeks. A kernel of a flame flared to life deep inside of me. I whimpered as I rubbed against Clarke.

  God, I wanted this man.

  "Clarke," I groaned.

  Clarke's hands tightened on me for a moment before he lifted me up onto the counter. "Let me clean you up. Then I'll give you what you need, baby."

  That was
good because I needed real bad.

  I wasn't even going to argue about the baby comment.

  "I thought you were going to call Dr. Skip."

  "He's on vacation."

  Well, hell.

  I sat there as Clarke looked me over then treated and bandaged my wounds. I flinched a couple of times, but mostly I tried not to moan when Clarke leaned in close and I got a good whiff of his aftershave. I wasn't sure what it was, but I approved.

  He smelled delicious.

  I knew this was a really bad idea, especially after the way he'd left me the last time, but I couldn't help myself. I was tired and hurt and I just wanted the comfort I knew I'd find in Clarke's arms. I wanted to forget the world for a few minutes.

  Clarke could make me forget everything, even my good sense.

  "I think that should do it." Clarke tossed the used gauze in the garbage then walked over to stand between my legs. He brushed some hair back from my eyes. "You let your hair grow out."

  I shrugged. "I haven't had a chance to cut it."

  "It looks nice."

  I'd never cut my hair again.

  Clarke leaned down and nuzzled my neck again like he had before. That was becoming one of my favorite pastimes. The anticipation of feeling Clarke's lips on my skin made it hard to breathe.

  "Clarke."

  "I have you, baby."

  I sucked in a breath when Clarke picked me up and started carrying me back into the bedroom. I instantly wrapped my legs around his waist. When he laid me down on the bed, he stretched out on top of me, settling between my thighs.

  "Even beat to shit, you're sexy as hell."

  I wanted to grin, but I was too busy moaning and arching into the hand Clarke stroked down my chest. His touch was feathery light, but I felt it all the way down in my soul.

  "It's been so long, Victor."

  Forever.

  "Yeah?" Clarke slid his tongue across my nipple. "How long has it been?"

  "Since…since the last time."

  Clarke's head snapped up. "You haven't been with anyone since the last time we were together?"

  I bit my lower lip as I shook my head. "I didn't want anyone else."

  I hated admitting that, but it was the truth. No one would do except Clarke, and since I couldn't have him—not including this time or the last time—I'd decided I didn't want anyone. I didn't like giving my body away to strangers.

  And since Clarke was the only one who lived in my heart, everyone else was considered a stranger.

  I was hopeless.

  I knew that.

  I just couldn't change it.

  When Clarke grinned and leaned up to kiss me, I realized I didn't want to change it. There was a reason no one else on earth would do, no matter how lonely I got.

  Victor Clarke owned me.

  "Victor," I whispered against his lips.

  His tongue slid against mine, demanding entrance. I eagerly opened my mouth and welcomed him in. Kissing Clarke was an experience I never thought I'd need so much, but I knew I could do it for hours on end.

  I could probably come just from kissing him.

  Clarke made it an art form. He didn't just kiss me. He consumed me. He demanded my submission with his lips and then his body.

  I willingly gave up both.

  He could have me.

  When Clarke leaned back then scooted toward the end of the bed, I whimpered in protest. The man's macho grin in no way took away from his manliness. On him, the ego looked good.

  I hated that.

  When Clarke started undressing, I leaned up on my elbows to watch the show. The reason his ego could withstand his macho attitude was because he had the muscles to back it up. Miles and miles of golden tanned muscles.

  I think the hair spread out across his thick pectoral muscles then trailing in a fine line down to his groin was what truly did me in. If Clarke didn't shave at least once a day, he started to look scruffy.

  It was really hot.

  There was a gleam of a predator in Clarke's eyes as he climbed back onto the bed and made his way up to me. He nipped bits of skin along the way then soothed the ache with his tongue. By the time he reached my mouth, I was a trembling mess.

  "Lube? Condom?"

  Seriously?

  I was supposed to think?

  Clarke pointed his finger at me. "Don't move."

  Like I was gonna move.

  Clarke climbed over my leg, slid to the side of the bed, then strode across the room to the bathroom. I heard him opening and closing drawers for a moment before one slammed shut and he was back, a tube of lube and a hand towel in his hand. He paused halfway across the room to grab a condom out of his jeans.

  I didn't like thinking about why that was there, so I simply didn't.

  At least the man was practicing safe sex.

  "Let's try this again." The feral grin on his face as he climbed back into his previous spot between my legs should have made me nervous.

  It didn't.

  It made me ache.

  Clarke started kissing me again, and I lost all sense of time and reason. Everything faded away except the man driving me crazy with his touch. When he pressed a slicked-up finger between my ass cheeks, I spread my legs like a bitch in heat.

  He sucked my aching cock into his mouth and sucked it down to the root just as he slid one finger into my ass. The combination of pleasure and discomfort stole my breath away. I didn't know whether to hump my hips and drive my cock into Clarke's mouth or push back and drive his finger into me.

  I dug my fingers into the blankets and curled them around the soft material. My ability to control myself and not scream like a banshee was quickly losing its power. I felt as if I was on a razor's edge, the pain and pleasure overwhelming and exhilarating all at the same time.

  "Please," I begged.

  Yes, I begged.

  It was either that or start screaming.

  I couldn't do anything more than whimper when Clarke pushed another finger into my ass. I knew there'd be more, but I already felt so full.

  I ached.

  Clarke popped off my cock then leaned down to lick a long line up over my balls. I didn't shave, but I didn't really need to. I barely had peach fuzz on my nuts.

  I felt everything.

  Clarke thrust his fingers in and out of me several times before adding a third one. I caught my breath, the invasion a little rougher than the other two, but it wasn't more than a couple of seconds before I was pushing back against Clarke's fingers.

  "My baby's hungry."

  Damn straight I was hungry. I was starving for Clarke's touch. I wanted him to fuck me into the mattress until I forgot my own name.

  "Please," I groaned again. "I need, Victor."

  Clarke pulled his fingers out of my ass, wiped his hand on the hand towel he'd brought from the bathroom, then scooted up to kneel between my legs. "Didn't I say I had you?"

  I nodded vigorously.

  He had.

  Clarke gave me one of those arrogant grins he seemed to save just for me. I swear I started panting when he ripped open the condom package then rolled it down his thick cock.

  He had a really beautiful cock.

  Perfect.

  It filled every inch of me and made me ache for more. I couldn't wait to feel it pushing into me, impaling me. I needed it more than I needed air.

  Clarke scooted forward until the head of his cock notched against my pulsing entrance. He pushed forward until just the head popped in then lifted my legs up with his arms.

  "Victor!" I shouted when he slammed into me.

  I'd only had sex with Clarke once before, but he didn't seem to be able to fuck at a slow speed. He went straight for ramming mode, just thrusting in until he was buried to the hilt inside of me.

  Maybe that was the way he liked it?

  I wasn't going to argue.

  Clarke drove his cock deep into my ass over and over again, splitting me open until my body formed itself to his dick as if I had been m
ade just for him.

  I'd always known it.

  Clarke was the one who didn't understand.

  That thought saddened me, but before I could give in to my grief, my orgasm grabbed a hold of me and pulled me over the edge into the abyss. I cried out as my body erupted, ropes of pearly white cum shooting out of my cock and splattering all over my abdomen.

  Clarke gave a loud grunt as he slammed into me one last time then stilled, his head falling back on his shoulders. He could have been a statue with how still he became.

  For a moment, I worried.

  Then Clarke thrust into me again and again, driving his cock as deep as it would go before roaring out his release and filling the condom until I felt the warmth created by his seed.

  Clarke's chest rose and fell rapidly as he slumped over me, catching himself on his arms. He stayed there as he caught his breath then slowly pulled out of me.

  I winced when he left, wishing he could stay, but knowing he couldn't.

  I never wanted him to leave.

  I watched with a growing sense of dread as Clarke pulled the condom off his cock then tied it and tossed it on the trashcan. I thought this would be where he told me this could never happen again, kind of like he had the last time, so I was shocked when he stretched out next to me and then grabbed the blankets and covered the both of us.

  He pulled me into his arms—his chest to my back, his groin notched in my ass—and buried his face in the back of my hair. I felt a feather-soft kiss pressed to the nape of my neck.

  A moment later, he was snoring.

  I couldn't stay.

  I hated that I couldn't, but the heartache I would suffer when Clarke threw me to the curb once he woke up was something I didn't think I'd survive again. It was better if I just left now.

  He'd probably thank me for it.

  No drama.

  I gave myself just a few more minutes to feel Clarke's arms around me—and to make sure he was asleep—before scooting to the side of the bed. As much as I knew he didn't want the confrontation, neither did I. I just didn't think I could handle seeing the regret on his face for a second time. The first time had been more than enough to last me a lifetime.

  I carefully dressed in the clothes Brant had provided for me, starting to feel every ache from my battered and bruised body. There was nothing on me that was going to heal anytime soon. Not my body, not my head, and certainly not my heart.