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13
Swallowing was rarely Topaz’s first choice when it came to a proper blow job. The taps on her neck she appreciated and maybe that’s why she found herself unable to stop. Her own core clenching as the mix of Onyx and strawberries danced on her tongue. Almost as sweet as her flavor mixed with his.
Leaning back against the wall of her shower made it easier for her to wash his foot. His eyes watching her as she stroked his muscular thigh until the trail of bubbles was white and not stained red or brown. The blood, mixing with days of torture needed to be gone. An instant fix wasn’t what she was trying to do.. Even if Doc were on speed dial, it wouldn’t help like this did. Washing away what she couldn’t in the past. Cleaning the hatred, the only way she knew how was cathartic.
“Sorry about the strawberry soap,” she said as she pushed back up on her knees and began cleaning his left thigh. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t let men stay in my room.”
“I didn’t think you did,” he said then cocked his head to the side. “But I do have one question that’s been bothering me.”
“Shoot,” she said unsure how far down his thigh she should go. Strawberry soap wasn’t exactly betadine and the open wound where his knee should have been appeared painful. Even the rubbed raw part higher up the thigh couldn’t feel good. Taking care, she focused on him hissing, much like with the cuts on his head to determine how far to go.
“How does Mountain know your name is Sarah?” he asked.
His dark voice made her wonder why if she practically fell over herself to be his, why he hadn’t returned the sentiment. “I’m not your Ol’ Lady,” she said a bit of vinegar in her voice.
“If you were?” he asked.
“Not twenty minutes ago—”
“A woman has never seen my leg,” he replied. “Not like this, not without a clinical setting. Fuck, Roadkill doesn’t even tend my shit. Red does.”
Her heart tightened knowing what they were sharing was deeper, more intimate and made the man in front of her vulnerable in a way she had never known. The water was beginning to cool as she stood. Ready to scrub fast and get him out when he grasped the handle meant for a washrag and pushed up. Standing fully for her with her poof in his hand, he scrubbed the best he could with one hand. His bicep bulging as he took on his full weight.
She turned in the shower, so he could wash her back. “I mail stuff out to my Nanna,” she explained. “My name is on the return address. He saw it once when I was making up a package.”
“He used it often?” he asked.
“Just once, telling me it was pretty and he knew a girl named Sarah once, but without the H.”
Onyx kissed her neck as he leaned forward, his weight pressing into her.
She wondered if he was compensating or really liking the fact his dick was pressing between her ass cheeks. “You trying to test out parking spaces?” she asked. A little tingle going up her spine, it’d been awhile since she’d done any ass play and that had been a plug, not a full hard cock as thick and long as Onyx’s. For that she would have had to gone back further to a strap on with Tempest… followed by—she shook her head not wanting to get lost in a memory when a warm body was right in front of her.
“My Ol’ Lady lets me park there,” he said, her eyes fluttered and his arm wrapped around her belly. “Sarah, I only want you, before I was—”
Her head turned and she captured his lips to silence him. He was nervous. Afraid she would reject him. That she understood. “The water’s getting cold,” she said. “Let’s get you toweled off and in bed.”
He nodded somberly, then lowered himself. The shake of his arm from standing tugging at her heart. He stood for her. Washing her. When she turned he looked up at her.
“Could you bring me stuff to shave? Even if it’s pink and moisturizing,” he said as she turned off the spray and he rubbed at the dusting of a beard he was sporting.
“Why?” she asked reaching for a towel and drying him off enough to get out of the shower, making sure his right foot was fully dry. He leaned on her, his hand reaching out to the doorjamb and the wall as they made their way to her bed and sat him down. “I kinda like it rough. Do I get a say? Or is this your vanity again?”
“My vanity?” he questioned.
She pushed on his shoulders as he fell back on his elbows and inched his way back on her bed with her on all fours over him. Bending down, she bit at the darkened flesh of his nipple. “Yes, you’re very vain. Tossing people away without giving yourself to them.”
“I went gray after the explosion,” he explained.
“Silver,” she retorted and held his chin in her palm, before bringing her lips to his. “I prefer silver to gold.”
“Selling price?” he teased before capturing her lips again.
They broke from the kiss, need building between her legs as he pushed up, using the headboard as a chair. She knew he needed Red to tend his wounds, but she wasn’t ready to share. Not now. Not with so much unsaid between them. Had he really called her his Ol’ Lady and had she actually stayed in the room and not run from the thought?
A common misconception occurs when people assume the Hoez are all looking to be someone’s Ol’ Lady. More and more, she’d discovered the Ol’ Lady was less of the desire than a safe place with a group of men willing to take out the world for making you cry. The freedom to fuck without judgement brought more women to the life than dreams of being an Ol’ Lady. But this one time, the man in front of her with skin like midnight and soul brighter than the sun had her yearning for the title. To be one of the women wearing leather claiming sheOwned and Operatedhim. Because the ownership was mutual.
“Again, sorry about the strawberry soap,” she said as her hand danced around his abs, sliding behind him so she could pull herself close. “It is sweet on the tongue though.”
