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Lyra put down the laststrip of tape to hold the fresh bandage on Zach’s belly. They’d worked out a way to do his dressing so the tape didn’t tear out a bunch of hair every time they changed it. Zach had stopped insisting he could change it himself; she liked doing it, and he liked letting her.
They were in her room for the night. Zach hadn’t slept anywhere else since he’d returned to Laughlin, and it was her intention that, aside from club business, he wouldn’t spend a night away from her again in his life.
This particular night had been a strange one. The Bulls had, of course, come over for dinner, which wasn’t strange at all. Mom had stayed, too, though, and that was weird as hell. Even weirder was how Pop and Mom had behaved like everything was normal, like she’d just stopped by to talk and had been invited to stay for dinner.
Like their afternoon delight had not happened.
They were so normal with each other—normal in the way they’d been with each other for the past eight years, like two divorced people who acknowledged their history and didn’t despise each other but didn’t go out of their way to see each other, either—that Lyra almost wondered if she’d imagined what she’d heard in the hallway.
For Pop, that ‘decently behaved divorced person’ thing had always been more act than not. Lyra was pretty sure he still loved Mom as much as he ever had. He’d sure never made even a partial move toward being serious with anyone else. He’d never even gone on an official date, as far as she knew. His post-divorce sex life was all motel hookups, she supposed.
That was why Lyra felt so unsettled about the afternoon’s activities. In his stoic, stony way, Pop had been all but flattened by the divorce. Conversely, Mom had blossomed after it, by all appearances but one: she’d gone looking for new love but hadn’t had much success with it.
And just a few days earlier, she’d broken up with her likeliest prospect in eight years. And told Lyra how alone she was. She’d also made an array of shitty comments about Pop, the kind of comments that would not reasonably lead one to expect her to be fucking him a few days later.
If Mom was playing around with the idea of getting back with Pop just so she wasn’t alone, Lyra would ... she didn’t know what she’d do, but at the very least she was going to have a stern talk with her. Because no. She didn’t get a second go at totally destroying Pop. Uh-uh.
“So Ben and your mom, huh?” Zach said idly, playing with Lyra’s hair. At her first private chance she’d told him, because she’d needed to get the words out of her head. She hadn’t said anything to Reed yet; her brother wasn’t any more impartial an observer than she was, and she needed to think how to tell him so they were on the same side. Reed was like her mirror image where familial relationships were concerned: he loved both parents as much as she did, but his more complicated relationship was with Pop, while hers was with Mom.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She set the bandaging supplies aside and took up the best part of changing his dressing: the gentle massage, more like a full-body petting, she’d started doing the first time. They hadn’t had sex since he’d been shot, because he’d beenshot, but this massage was in the same ballpark. Zach sure got hard every time—and she got wet, too. It was a ‘beautiful torment’ kind of situation.
“I get that,” he said, and then let loose a long, soft moan like a purr when Lyra skimmed her palm over the not-shot side of his belly. “I’m gonna miss this when I get the staples out in a couple days.”
“Who says you have to miss it?” she asked, slipping her hands down his thighs. He didn’t have much hair on his torso, only a scatter across his pecs and that thick stripe down the middle of his belly, but his arms and legs had a nice covering of dark hair, and she loved the silky-coarse feel against her skin.
“Yeah, you’ll still do this? Put me to sleep like a crocodile?”
“Might want some reciprocity, but yeah. I like it, too. I love touching you.” Slipping her fingers around to the insides of his thighs, she moved back up, then out to his hips and up his sides. He moaned again, and his belly quivered.
His cock stood up like a pillar, but she avoided it. He’d begged for her touch in recent days, increasingly as he healed, but while the staples were in she wasn’t doing anything that might make him hurt.
“Your body is beautiful,” she whispered and put her mouth in the middle of his belly, at the wedge of his ribcage. She pressed a trail of kisses up the center of his chest, up his throat, into his beard, over his chin, to his mouth.
With his hand on the back of her head, he held her firmly, shifting his mouth beneath hers so he took control of the kiss, his fingers tense and insistent on her head, his tongue pushing into her mouth. As his need set hers alight, she moaned, and he growled and, with his free hand, grabbed hers and pushed it between them. Before he could put her hand around his cock, she made a fist.
“Touch me,” he rasped without moving his mouth from hers. “Please, baby. I need it.”
Lyra tried to back away a bit so she could look him in the eye, but he wouldn’t ease his grip on her head, or on her hand. “Zach ...”
“Please, please, please. Just that,please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It won’t. I rode yesterday and today, and I’m okay. Feeling your hands on me like that willhelp, not hurt.”
She chuckled. Boys were so predictable. “If this messes up your staples ...”
Sensing victory, he grinned. “It won’t. But if I’m wrong, it’ll still be worth it.”
With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, Lyra relaxed her hand and let Zach wrap it around his cock. At the first hint of her touch he sucked in a loud breath. When he let it out, his whole body relaxed, his hands dropping away from her. He lay on the bed completely exposed, completely at her mercy.
Scooting down to lie on her side, propped on one elbow at his hip, Lyra smiled and played with her man’s beautiful cock. At first, she only teased, with light sweeps of her hand and furtive little grazes of her fingers. Zach didn’t try to speed her up or change her approach; he simply lay there, his hips tensing and releasing, his belly trembling, his breaths chugging, and let her do what she wanted.
That was so totally hot. It was trust and confidence and ... just ...intimacy.
She liked when a guy took control, she liked being moved around, pressed into the bed, her hair pulled, all of that. Before Zach, the closest she’d ever gotten to an honest orgasm with a guy, when she’d at least really enjoyed herself, had been like that.
But her first real time with Zach, he’d rolled to his back and put her on top, and Lyra had discovered that being offered control, being trusted not to hurt, and to know what was good, maybe that was even better. Sometimes, it was better.
