All Things Pretty
Page 39
“If that’s code for a hot, sexual dynamo with a cunning intellect then I couldn’t agree more.”
I groan and roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. He can’t see my smile either. “So the oldest is overbearing, the youngest is the best. What about your parents?”
“My dad’s cool. Still around. My mom died when I was seven.” There’s no levity in his voice now. “She was sick as a kid. Cancer. They thought she’d be fine. Turns out she wasn’t. It was tough. Just about killed my dad. He loved her. Too much, maybe.”
I lift up my head to find his eyes. “Too much? Is it even possible to love someone too much?”
“I think so. I don’t ever want to love someone so much that being apart from them makes me forget that there are other things to be happy about in life.”
I lay my head back down. I don’t want him to see that my heart breaks a little at his words. “I think I might like nothing more than to love someone in that way. And for them to return it,” I say softly, impulsively giving voice to something I’ve never shared with anyone before.
“Why? Why would you want to love someone so much that you’d be miserable without them?”
“I don’t think people set out to lose the ones they love. It’s not exactly the norm.”
“But why risk getting hurt like that? Why seek that kind of shit out?”
“People risk it because if tragedy doesn’t strike…and you get to keep the ones you love…it’s worth it.”
“Even if it hurts? I mean, they’ll die eventually. In the end.”
I smile against his chest. “Especially if it hurts.”
“That doesn’t go there, you know. That only applies when you have to do something you don’t want to do, something that’ll end up being worth it somehow.”
“Of course it goes there. Pain reminds us that we’re alive. Reminds us to fight. Without it, we might just drift through life, unaware.”
“And what do you fight for?” he asks quietly.
“Travis.” I don’t even hesitate. He’s been my reason for…everything for years.
“Nothing else is worth fighting for?”
“Nothing more than him.”
Sig grips my upper arms and drags me fully on top of him until our eyes are level, my face inches from his. “I’ll help you fight for him. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Fighting for him? This is all for Travis.”
“I told you–” I start to pull away, but Sig won’t let me. He pins me to him with his stare as well as with his hands.
“I know what you told me. And I’m telling you again. You can trust me, Tommi.” He pulls me down until we are nose to nose, his lips grazing mine as he speaks. “You can trust me.”
We stare into each other’s eyes, a battle of wills. One every bit as fierce as the other. Me, determined not to give in, not to trust, not to relinquish control. Him determined to make me, to convince me, to sway me. When I would pull away, Sig grabs my face between his big hands and holds me still, trapped in his gaze, as though by keeping me here long enough, he might force me to believe him.
And then his lips are on mine, hard, demanding. Hot. We are at odds. We are destined to clash, to batter, to end. But for the moment, for right now, coming together, meeting in the middle is inevitable. We are inevitable. We are smoke, we are fire, we are heat and desire and unquenchable thirst.
My legs fall on either side of his, knees meeting the mattress, and I dive into his kiss, letting the animal loose, like he said. With fingers we grasp. With teeth we bite. With mouths we devour.
I feel him growing beneath me, his erection pressing into my warmth, and moisture rushes to the place where I straddle him. Without releasing my lips, I feel as much as hear his movement as he reaches into the table beside the bed to get another condom. With quick, efficient movements, he jerks one off and stretches another on, and then he’s gripping my hips, holding me still, then pulling me down onto him.
Simultaneously, he flexes his hips, seating himself more fully within me. I cry out in utter ecstasy. It takes a moment before I can relax around him, still unaccustomed to the heady sensation of being stretched to what feels as though it’s beyond my limit.
I experience his penetration from groin to groin, from front to back, and all the way into my abdomen. He’s buried so deep, I wonder that it’s pressure from his tip that stimulates my diaphragm and makes me breathless.
I struggle to breathe, pulling away from him to sit up and force big gulps of air into my stiff lungs. The upright position does nothing to help my breathing, only brings him farther inside me. I let my head fall back, pleasure rolling through me like thunder. As though he knows the kind of thrall I’m in, he squeezes my hips with his hands and grinds my sex against his, the friction too delicious for words.
When I can finally manage the intake of air without conscious effort, I gasp, several long, deep, half-moans that further incite Sig. He sits up as well, his mouth going straight for one nipple, giving it a suck as he reaches between us and unerringly finds my folds. When he takes my clit between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it lightly, rhythmically, thunder turns into lightning. One moment, I’m adjusting to his size and intensity, the next I’m moving up and down on him, falling headlong into another orgasm.
Relentlessly, Sig drives me over the edge and down into oblivion. Ecstasy sweeps through me, dizzying my head, scrambling my thoughts. For a moment, I feel disoriented, wavering atop him like a compass needle that can’t find true north. Sig pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest until I find my bearings in reality again.
When I open eyes I wasn’t aware of closing, they click to a stop on his lush brown ones. They’re inky black and vicious, fierce, like the devil himself is on his heels. He’s watching me take my pleasure, watching it overcome me. Waiting, just waiting for the moment when he will give in to his own.
Moving his hands back down to my waist, eyes locked on mine, Sig lies back, teeth gritted, and he plants his feet on the bed, lifting his hips and ramming his cock into me over and over again until I reclaim the release that I thought had subsided.
Finally, he grunts, a protracted growl of sorts that tells me he’s close to what he was looking for. I hold on tight, watching him, loving the way his abs contract, so tight under his strain. Before I know what’s happening, Sig’s arm is around my waist and I’m on my belly with him leaning over me. My legs are swiftly parted and he’s plunging into me from behind, bringing on a whole new flood of pleasure, pleasure that never seems to end beneath his skilled hands and body.
I groan and roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. He can’t see my smile either. “So the oldest is overbearing, the youngest is the best. What about your parents?”
“My dad’s cool. Still around. My mom died when I was seven.” There’s no levity in his voice now. “She was sick as a kid. Cancer. They thought she’d be fine. Turns out she wasn’t. It was tough. Just about killed my dad. He loved her. Too much, maybe.”
I lift up my head to find his eyes. “Too much? Is it even possible to love someone too much?”
“I think so. I don’t ever want to love someone so much that being apart from them makes me forget that there are other things to be happy about in life.”
I lay my head back down. I don’t want him to see that my heart breaks a little at his words. “I think I might like nothing more than to love someone in that way. And for them to return it,” I say softly, impulsively giving voice to something I’ve never shared with anyone before.
“Why? Why would you want to love someone so much that you’d be miserable without them?”
“I don’t think people set out to lose the ones they love. It’s not exactly the norm.”
“But why risk getting hurt like that? Why seek that kind of shit out?”
“People risk it because if tragedy doesn’t strike…and you get to keep the ones you love…it’s worth it.”
“Even if it hurts? I mean, they’ll die eventually. In the end.”
I smile against his chest. “Especially if it hurts.”
“That doesn’t go there, you know. That only applies when you have to do something you don’t want to do, something that’ll end up being worth it somehow.”
“Of course it goes there. Pain reminds us that we’re alive. Reminds us to fight. Without it, we might just drift through life, unaware.”
“And what do you fight for?” he asks quietly.
“Travis.” I don’t even hesitate. He’s been my reason for…everything for years.
“Nothing else is worth fighting for?”
“Nothing more than him.”
Sig grips my upper arms and drags me fully on top of him until our eyes are level, my face inches from his. “I’ll help you fight for him. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Fighting for him? This is all for Travis.”
“I told you–” I start to pull away, but Sig won’t let me. He pins me to him with his stare as well as with his hands.
“I know what you told me. And I’m telling you again. You can trust me, Tommi.” He pulls me down until we are nose to nose, his lips grazing mine as he speaks. “You can trust me.”
We stare into each other’s eyes, a battle of wills. One every bit as fierce as the other. Me, determined not to give in, not to trust, not to relinquish control. Him determined to make me, to convince me, to sway me. When I would pull away, Sig grabs my face between his big hands and holds me still, trapped in his gaze, as though by keeping me here long enough, he might force me to believe him.
And then his lips are on mine, hard, demanding. Hot. We are at odds. We are destined to clash, to batter, to end. But for the moment, for right now, coming together, meeting in the middle is inevitable. We are inevitable. We are smoke, we are fire, we are heat and desire and unquenchable thirst.
My legs fall on either side of his, knees meeting the mattress, and I dive into his kiss, letting the animal loose, like he said. With fingers we grasp. With teeth we bite. With mouths we devour.
I feel him growing beneath me, his erection pressing into my warmth, and moisture rushes to the place where I straddle him. Without releasing my lips, I feel as much as hear his movement as he reaches into the table beside the bed to get another condom. With quick, efficient movements, he jerks one off and stretches another on, and then he’s gripping my hips, holding me still, then pulling me down onto him.
Simultaneously, he flexes his hips, seating himself more fully within me. I cry out in utter ecstasy. It takes a moment before I can relax around him, still unaccustomed to the heady sensation of being stretched to what feels as though it’s beyond my limit.
I experience his penetration from groin to groin, from front to back, and all the way into my abdomen. He’s buried so deep, I wonder that it’s pressure from his tip that stimulates my diaphragm and makes me breathless.
I struggle to breathe, pulling away from him to sit up and force big gulps of air into my stiff lungs. The upright position does nothing to help my breathing, only brings him farther inside me. I let my head fall back, pleasure rolling through me like thunder. As though he knows the kind of thrall I’m in, he squeezes my hips with his hands and grinds my sex against his, the friction too delicious for words.
When I can finally manage the intake of air without conscious effort, I gasp, several long, deep, half-moans that further incite Sig. He sits up as well, his mouth going straight for one nipple, giving it a suck as he reaches between us and unerringly finds my folds. When he takes my clit between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it lightly, rhythmically, thunder turns into lightning. One moment, I’m adjusting to his size and intensity, the next I’m moving up and down on him, falling headlong into another orgasm.
Relentlessly, Sig drives me over the edge and down into oblivion. Ecstasy sweeps through me, dizzying my head, scrambling my thoughts. For a moment, I feel disoriented, wavering atop him like a compass needle that can’t find true north. Sig pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest until I find my bearings in reality again.
When I open eyes I wasn’t aware of closing, they click to a stop on his lush brown ones. They’re inky black and vicious, fierce, like the devil himself is on his heels. He’s watching me take my pleasure, watching it overcome me. Waiting, just waiting for the moment when he will give in to his own.
Moving his hands back down to my waist, eyes locked on mine, Sig lies back, teeth gritted, and he plants his feet on the bed, lifting his hips and ramming his cock into me over and over again until I reclaim the release that I thought had subsided.
Finally, he grunts, a protracted growl of sorts that tells me he’s close to what he was looking for. I hold on tight, watching him, loving the way his abs contract, so tight under his strain. Before I know what’s happening, Sig’s arm is around my waist and I’m on my belly with him leaning over me. My legs are swiftly parted and he’s plunging into me from behind, bringing on a whole new flood of pleasure, pleasure that never seems to end beneath his skilled hands and body.
