I do my best not to tense, drawing the hand not on her shoulder into a tight fist at my side. I’m no expert, but from her posture, from the tone of her voice and the bitterness behind her eyes, her certainty that I wouldn’t take advantage of her comes from experience with someone who did.
I don’t know her. Not really. For whatever reason, seeing her smiling down at me every morning and every night, a world away from anyone who really cared about me, made me feel close to her. Her comforting presence was my constant companion for close to a year, the only thing that kept me from succumbing to loneliness as the life I knew drew to a close. I might not know her, but that someone would even think about touching her in a way she didn’t consent to fills me with rage.
I lose my war with composure and pull her tighter to my side.
“I’m so sorry. It’s not bullshit at all.” My words are hardly enough, but they’re all I have. “If you want to talk—”
“No!” she interrupts, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye before it can fall down her cheek. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” she says in a calmer tone. “It’s just…I don’t want to talk. OK?”
I nod. I’m quickly realizing I’ll do whatever she wants, even if it’s for me to leave and never come back.
“Could we…?” She swallows. “I mean, would you…stay? Stay like this?”
I squeeze her in response, and she wraps her arms around my torso in a deep embrace. I feel her heart beating against my chest, slowing to a more relaxed cadence the longer I hold her. Lemon verbena and vanilla waft up to my nostrils, and I take a long drag in.
I try my best not to notice the feel of her breasts against my chest, how her full, soft hips yield to my hard flesh. Her bodyis divine. Literal heaven on earth wrapped in supple curves and tempting valleys, and someassholeout there tried to defile it!
I start unconsciously rocking her—all the while imagining ways to find and dismember that piece of shit—when I feel it. She’s rocking with me, pushing further each time, guiding us to lie on the bed.
“Kendra, I—”
“Shhh,” she interjects, putting a finger over my lips. “I don’t want to talk.” Her finger leaves my lips and trails down my chin, skating along my collarbone.
When her nimble hands disappear inside my shirt, swirling back and forth in intricate patterns that heat my blood, I realize she’s tracing my tattoo. It’s a red-crowned crane, a symbol of luck and longevity in my father’s culture. I inked it onto my skin in the first of many small rebellions, when the NBA hadn’t called, but I still didn’t have an agent. Over the years, I’ve turned my body into a canvas, collecting a new tattoo for every major life event. It strikes me that Kendra is drawn to my crane when I feel like the luckiest bastard alive whenever I’m around her.
She leans forward, planting a tentative kiss on my Adam’s apple that makes me curse under my breath.Okay. She really doesn’t want to talk.
“If you’re sure,” I offer, giving her the chance to back out if this is too much. My dick is not immune to all this touching and rubbing, and there’s no way she doesn’t feel the evidence of my arousal digging into her stomach, but unlike whoever hurt her, I’ll stop whenever she asks. She doesn’t answer, choosinginstead to open the top button of my shirt to drag her lips further down my neck.
If I were standing, there’s no way I wouldn’t be woozy from all the blood rushing to my dick. Can a person pass out from a hard-on? It sure feels like it right now.
Her lips follow each button she opens, down my sternum, across my stomach, until she’s grazing the fine hairs of my happy trail.Oh fuck.I hiss out a breath.
“You’re incredible,” I mutter.
I can feel the mischievous smile that spreads across her face like a sunrise. She knows I’m hers to command, and after what I suspect happened to her, she needs to take the lead.
I allow myself to relax into the bed, widening my legs so she can position her knees between them. She hunches over my body, teasing me with maddening licks to the skin just above my pants. My cock is so hard, one wrong move could take her eye out, and it’s almost impossible to keep still as she tortures me.
“God, Kendra!” I keen when she surprises me with a bite to my pelvic bone. “You’re killing me.”
She hums her approval before finally unbuttoning my pants to relieve my painfully hard shaft. I brace for the feel of her hands on me as she takes me out of my boxer briefs, but the touch doesn’t come. Instead, she nuzzles my dick with her nose, her chin, and her cheek, coaxing enough precum from the tip that she surely feels it through the fabric.
“Mmmm,” she hums again. “I’ve been thinking about this cock ever since you talked about your shoes. How long it is.How thick. How it might feel inside me, stretching my pussy so wide and filling me so deep, I’d be sore in the morning.” She mouths it through the fabric, and I groan, bucking helplessly. “You don’t disappoint.”
I’m not ashamed to admit I whimper at her words. I’m but a drone, helplessly drawn to this wanton queen bee in the hope I might please her.
“If you want, I could use my cock to make you feel good,” I pant. “Will you—?” I clear my throat and start again. “Will you let me make you feel good? You deserve to feel good.” I’m begging. Openlybegging, but I don’t care.
She considers me.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t just be makingyourselffeel good? Men talk a good game, but once the dick comes out, he runs the show.”
I shake my head vehemently, my eyes pleading.
“I swear to God, it’s only about you. I won’t even cum, if you don’t want.”
She raises an eyebrow.
