Sweet Ache

I tug on the lobe of his ear with my lips, and he holds me at arm’s distance before I’m able to connect with his lips. His eyes blaze with lascivious need and yet his head shakes subtly back and forth. I’m not sure what he’s trying to tell me. His eyes say one thing and his body shows another right down to the expression on his handsome face.

“Go ahead, Hawke.” Vince’s words cut through the bemoaned silence of the bus. “I’ll just watch from over here … unless you want me to join in, that is,” he says with an amused chuckle.

I feel Hawkin’s body tense further if that’s even possible, and my mind begins to work overtime. Is that why he’s acting so weird? Is that what Hawke wants and he’s afraid to ask? Me and him and Vince together? I swallow the discomforting thrill of the idea, something I have never done before. This will be my first time with Hawke, no one else needs to be there while we memorize each other’s bodies and sounds.

“Maybe some other time,” I reply, hoping to add some levity and ease whatever tension remains. Fight fire with fire and all that. “Sorry, Vince, lead singer trumps bass player.”

Hawkin erupts in a fit of laughter at my comment and holds his stomach as the hysterics take over his whole body. “Oh God! That’s fucking classic!”

Chapter 15

QUINLAN

The walk to my front door feels like a mile, but at least we’re both sobering up some. Anticipation of what’s going to come next assaults us with every step forward. My nerves hum, my core burns with that sweet, delicious ache, and I tell myself to expect nothing more than the moment. I laugh softly knowing no matter what I tell myself I’m already too attached to Hawkin and nothing has really happened yet.

I fumble with the key in the lock, the expectation adding to the heady moment, until Hawke steps up behind me, my back to his front. He pulls my hair off my neck with one hand, fingertip tracing over my inked motto, and places a kiss on the curve of my shoulder that is so unexpected it heightens the fluttering sensations in my belly. Nerves and expectation ruin my dexterity so he reaches out and places his hand over mine so that we both unlock the front door together.

And I’m so far from the flowery, Hallmark moment girl, but there is something that touches me with the action, and I can only hope he’s unlocking more than just the front door and maybe opening up the possibility of letting me in.

When the door swings open and he follows me in, the silence stretches so tautly it only enhances the desire as we make our way through my darkened house straight to my bedroom. I don’t think to ask if he wants another drink, a bottle of water—it never crosses my mind—because I’m driven by pure need at this point. Besides, we’ve had enough foreplay tonight that without even asking him, I know neither one of us wants to wait any longer.

So I step into my bedroom with confidence and when Hawkin’s hands immediately find my waist and pull me back into the muscled heat of his chest, I close my eyes and allow myself to memorize the feel of his embrace before he renders my body senseless and my thoughts incoherent. He’s already hard for me and I’m so turned on by the fact that I haven’t said a word to him, I haven’t shed my clothes, and yet he’s ready.

His hands begin to move over my torso. They snake under my tank top, and I gasp in a breath at the feeling of skin on skin, at the sensation of rough to smooth that tells me this is real, this is about to happen. He smooths his hands up my rib cage so that my tank pulls up with them, and he cups my breasts as he goes. We both moan in unison as his fingers brush over my nipples. I gasp out as sensation swamps me, my head rolling back onto his shoulder behind me as I surrender my body to his hands, my emotions to his manipulations, and absorb the pleasure he’s giving me.

He rubs my nipples between his fingers and thumbs through the lace of my bra before continuing to slide my tank up to my shoulders. He gestures for me to lean my head forward and he lifts my tank over my head but lowers it over my arms, stopping it so that they are held in place.

Chills race over my body; the ache he’s building inside me intensifies with each touch feeling like a pleasurable pain. My sex throbs with each beat of my pulse and my muscles tense to prevent myself from twisting around, ripping the tank top off and jumping him. God yes I want him with every fiber of my being, but there’s something innately arousing about turning yourself over to someone. Trusting someone with your body, your sexual pleasure, openly handing them your vulnerability—it’s all a very intoxicating feeling.

Add to that the lack of any words between us. Our only communication is the dance of his fingers over my sensitized flesh. Hands urging in silent command, minds running wild.

He draws in a ragged breath from behind me and I love the thought that he’s just as affected. Hawke’s hands begin to move back down my body now, sliding between my breasts where he unclasps my bra before moving to my back and down the length of my spine to unzip my skirt. It falls to the floor and pools around my feet so that I’m wearing nothing but a fuchsia lace thong with nude heels and a tank top holding my arms motionless.

My skin is hot, the air is cool, and his breath feathers over my neck in a whisper of a touch. My thoughts forget the notion of the casual sex I told myself I could have with him because I already know that there is no turning back now as he runs his palms back to my abdomen so that his fingers dip beneath the band of my panties. He lowers them to the top of my cleft, parting me slightly so that his fingertips graze the top of my clit, causing my pelvis to buck into his hand as I beg for more.