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“Is that what you want me to share? How I’m a monster? That pain translates into some kind of fucked up notion of love? Or caring?”
“Yes.” Because that was Jack. His scars and all. And he was trusting them to me. Just like I trusted him.
“Every day, I worry I’m him. Will become him. Because, while I hate pain, a twisted part of me loves watching your pretty skin turn pink from my hand. The feel of your ass warm and red, the snapping sound of my hand coming down.” His eyes darkened another degree. “They’re conflicting emotions. I hate it and love it. It’s a part of me. And all I can think of is getting lost to that part. Because with you, that’s what happens.” He was right against me, mouth brushing mine. “I lose myself to you.”
My back met the wall, and he surrounded me. “Now you know the fucked up piece of my brain. So, I’ll tell you one more time: Push me away.”
I swallowed hard. “No.”
His mouth crashed down on mine. I kissed him back. Crazed and ready for him. Wanting to lose myself right back.
I breathed his name. “Thank you.” I kissed him hard, clung to him, clawed at his clothes. “Thank you,” I repeated. I wanted to know him. To understand, to feel him on every level he’d let me, and he finally let me in. Give and take.
Now I wanted him to take me. In every way. Because when I was with him, a part of him, I felt better. Was better.
I tore at his shirt and pants, and my clothes were off in seconds. He lifted me, our mouths never breaking, as I wrapped my legs around his hips and he walked us to the plush rug in front of the fireplace. He grabbed a condom quickly and was back on top of me.
There was no power play, no exchange of control, no rules. Just us.
Laying on the rug, his forearms rested on either side of my face. I kissed his biceps, his shoulders, his chest. He gripped the rug and surged inside of me.
He growled my name and thrust again, and again. Each time, I lost more of myself to him, letting him take whatever he needed, allowing myself to let go.
Hooking my ankles around him, I pulled him as close as I could. All of his weight rested on top of me, and it was the heaviest, most wonderful feeling in the word. Every inch of our skin was smashed together as he rocked in and out, kissing me deep and thoroughly until I didn’t care if I ever caught my breath again. Because I had Jack. Right there with me, the only oxygen I needed.
My body lit up and his dark eyes fastened on mine for only a moment. He was gentle, but hard. Slow and urgent at the same time. Littering kisses along my face and neck, he said nothing, but I felt his intentions. With every glide, every kiss, every sweep of his hands, he was taking it away. Taking the nightmares, the weight of the past and the shame.
He was taking it all.
I’d never felt like I had a true partner until that moment. Unburdening this onto him, he was choosing to stay and deal with this with me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging him with every fiber of my strength.
“I’m here,” was all he said.
Burying my face in his neck, I breathed in every single atom that made up this incredible man. I was surprised when my body lit up with release instantly. Between the emotion, connection, and pleasure, it was almost too much. But I rode the wave, and he was right there with me.
The only thing I wondered was: How will I ever live without this man?
~
After several long kisses and dawn finally breaking, I reluctantly headed out of Jack’s home and back to my car. It was Monday, and worked started in a couple of hours. I still had to drive back home to change and shower.
I sat in my car for a moment, replaying all the ground we’d covered last night. I felt like I finally understood where Jack came from. I didn’t have all the details, but there was truth between us. Trust on a new level, and that was exciting.
Putting the key in the ignition, I adjusted my seat to reach the pedals, and—
I looked down.
I’d driven to Jack’s house last night. My car was out front the whole time. There was no reason to adjust my seat, unless someone had messed with it.
I looked
around, a buzz of panic racing through me. The car was quiet, clean, nothing out of place. I rummaged through the few papers on the back seat. Everything was as I had left it, yet everything felt like it’d been touched.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe I had adjusted my seat last night before going in. In the past, when I’d been in a panic-induced mode, I forgot things.
Or maybe the icky feeling was legitimate.
