Deep in the Heart of Me Ch. 04

He shifted as carefully as he could so he didn't jostle her, freeing his arm, his fingers finding their unerring way up to her tousled hair. Sliding his hand through the silky mass he cupped the back of her head, coaxing her upwards until her face was closer to his, tilting up toward him. She looked back at him steadily, if a bit shyly, her hand slipping up to the position her ear had held, fingers splayed over his heart. Her eyes were soft...warm. He exhaled slowly.

She reached up and traced a careful curve along his bottom lip with her finger, studying him intently. He sensed she was holding something in, her shoulders hunched, her eyes fixed on his mouth and not meeting his gaze.

"Jarod...can I ask..." she finally queried, blinking rapidly as her cheeks went a deeper shade of pink. Whatever it was, she found it embarrassing. He waited for her next words, intrigued.

"Did you...you know..." Her eyes dipped downwards, looking along his body.

Ah. The penny dropped and he had to restrain the smile that twitched at his lips.

"You mean...did I come?" he said, watching her reaction closely. She blushed a deeper shade of pink, but nodded, her eyes slid shyly away from his. He couldn't help himself. He began to chuckle. And paid for it with a slap to the chest from her insistent little hand. It only made him laugh harder.

Did she really need to ask? Was she that far beyond it when he'd practically fallen on top of her in his passion?

He finally relented and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "How could I not when your sweet little cunt was squeezing me half to death?" he said, half teasing, half serious, earning another slap from her. But she was smiling back at him now, the warmth reaching her eyes as she looked up at him. There it was. That little smug smile of hers. Though in all fairness, she'd earned it.

"Huh...you look like a cat with cream," he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

She lowered her eyes, slowly tracing a finger over his chest and nodded, still smiling.

He hooked a finger under her chin until she was forced to meet his eyes. He could get lost in that look. Her eyes said, 'Come to me,' and 'You're safe with me.' He blinked rapidly, something stinging at the backs of his eyes.

"For all your brattishness, I think you do like to please me," he murmured thoughtfully, still trying to puzzle her out.

She merely smiled up at him again and curled herself up against his chest. Curled up like a kitten. And his heart filled with something new, and wild and deep.

* * * * *

The completeness of the silence told him he'd woken up into the darkness of the very early hours. His first thought was a confused one. The warm arm draped over him wasn't his own. The soft regular sleeping-breath against his shoulder held him captive for some moments. She was fast asleep, tucked under his arm, her hand possessively pressed to his chest. The shock of this realisation left him taking deep breaths, and it took some time for his mind to straighten out a somewhat perplexing thought. It wasn't the fact that she was there, sleeping with him, that was causing the shock...the breathlessness. It was how natural it felt. As if this was how it had always been.

Just this thought alone was messing with his head, and he fought against the urge to escape it. He should feel good about this. Why should it be a problem for something to feel so right?

He found himself overwhelmed by a steadily growing sense of entrapment, and had to slowly, gently, extricating himself from her embrace. As he pulled away from her she shifted in her sleep, murmuring softly before rolling onto her back, her face turned away from him. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. Her pale perfect skin stark against the sheets, her dark hair pooling around her. Very carefully, he pulled the covers over her. Still, she slept on.

A restlessness drove him, and he searched around on the floor until he found his boxer shorts. Tugging them on, he made his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the living room.

Leaning against the big windows, he looked out at the faint blush on the horizon, the only light in an otherwise dark city. It was the time of night when everyone should be asleep, he thought, but here he stood, staring out the window. Stretching wearily, he slumped down into his leather chair and swivelled it towards the window, letting the quiet and the darkness soothe him.

The truth was, she'd turned him upside down. Nothing was right-side up, and it unsettled the hell out of him. His mind took each and every possible route through the problem, but it didn't find an answer. Chasing itself and an elusive understanding, he didn't notice when he drifted into sleep.

* * * * *

He was woken by the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut. Groaning, he pressed his hands to his bleary eyes. Fuck. He hadn't meant to sleep in the chair. And he hadn't meant for her to wake up alone. He sighed and leaned further back in the chair, his ears straining to catch her movements. It was still dark, but the blush was now a firm streak in the sky and dawn was on its way.

There was the sound of water running, and after a few moments of silence, the door opening and the click of the light switch. Soft, padding footfalls and he sensed she was standing behind him. He turned in the chair and caught sight of her, her hand pushing back her tumbled hair, the curves of her body enveloped in the white cotton of his work shirt. He had to think hard about breathing, just seeing her there, glowing pale in the darkness of the hallway like some sort of apparition.

"Hey," he said softly, not wanting to scare her off.

She moved closer, rubbing her eyes. "Hi... What time is it?"

He heard her yawn softly as she walked past him and stopped, facing the window and the expanse of city and sky beyond it. The shirt nearly draped to her knees, but even in the gentle light of early dawn he could make out her shape beneath the fabric. The indent of her waist, the curves of her hips and thighs. He felt his groin tighten just watching her. Shit. He'd come...twice, not that many hours ago. How on earth could he be ready to have her again?

He swallowed. "It's pretty early yet," he said, his voice rough. "You should go back to bed. Get some sleep."

She turned towards him, a hand pressed back against the glass. "Why are you sitting out here?"

He exhaled slowly. Why was he sitting out here? "I couldn't sleep," he said, thinking that it was mostly true. He watched her as she took slow, swaying steps towards his chair, her hands fiddling with the long cuffs of his shirt.

"I woke up and you were gone..." She stopped a few inches from his knees, her eyes lowered, reaching out a hand and brushing her fingertips against his leg.

"I'm sorry," he said, not quite knowing why he was apologising. He stared up at her, trying to ignore the effect her nearness was having on his body.

Her hand stilled and her eyes darted up to his briefly before dropping back to where her fingers touched his skin. "Do you regret it?"

His head jerked back. "Regret what?"

She shrugged, raising her hands and dropping them again. "Us...this." She paused. "Me."

He sat forward in the chair and snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. God. Regret her? Regret not finding her sooner, more like it. "Never," he said firmly.

He felt her relax slowly in his arms. Through the crisp fabric her body felt so warm, so soft. He realised how chilled he'd gotten, sleeping in the chair. The heat radiating out from somewhere low in his belly was quickly counteracting the cold.

She twined her fingers in his hair, and he tilted his head back to see her face. She looked sleepy and dreamy and so fucking beautiful. Her lips parted slightly, and he knew he had to kiss her soon.

He leaned back in the chair, dragging her with him, pulling her off balance and into his lap, half-sitting, half straddling him. Burying his face in her neck, he breathed deep.

Her question pricked at his mind, and he leaned his head back against the headrest of the chair, trying to catch her eye. "Why...do you regret this? Us?"

She regarded him steadily, her hands slipping down from his hair to clasp behind his neck. Overcome with a sudden shyness, she ducked her head down next to his, her lips near his ear. "No," she breathed, "Not a second of it."

He felt his shoulders relax a little, calmed by her words, surprised by how much he'd needed to hear her say it. What they'd done had been madness, but here she was. In his arms.

Sliding his hands around her waist, he shifted her in his arms until she faced him, straddling him, her knees just fitting either side of his hips. He swallowed, hard, as the smooth warmth of her thighs settled against his legs. She kept her grip on his shoulders, her hair swinging down as she looked down at him, her eyes wide and watchful.

His hands found their own way, smoothing along the roundness of her thighs, straying up under the shirt, confirming she was completely naked underneath it. When he skimmed the bare skin of her hips, spanning her waist with his hands, he felt her grip on his shoulders tighten. He pressed his hands more firmly into the curve of her waist and felt her begin to melt towards him with a soft moan. Slowly, firmly, he massaged deeply with his hands, digging into the muscles in her lower back where her waist was narrowest. She was whimpering now, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, her hips arching against him of their own accord.

Oh sweet Jesus. His hands shifted down to her hips, pulling her back against him again firmly. If he thought his dick had been hard before...

He shifted down in the chair, pulling her even closer to him, pressing her tightly against his erection. She felt so good, so fucking good. He groaned when she sat back, her hands braced on his shoulders, arching slowly against him, her eyes closed, oblivious to anything but the feel of their bodies pressing together.

His hands drifted up from her hips, tugging impatiently at the few buttons she'd done up. He pushed the edges of the shirt back, baring the thrusting curve of her breasts. He let his fingers brush down the outside curve of each breast, and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Her back arched reflexively, her whimpers turning to moans when he swirled his tongue over skin hungrily, as if he'd never tasted her before. He filled his hands with the soft weight, his thumbs caressing the skin his mouth left damp and aching. It was as if his hunger for her only grew the more he tasted of her.

He pulled himself away with some reluctance, his hands holding onto her hips, stilling her movements. Waiting until she opened her eyes and gazed down at him, he stroked his thumbs slowly along the curve of her hipbones. When her eyes met his he could see they were filled with need and wanting and a little confusion.

"Kiss me," he said.

She hesitated and shyly ducked her head down next to his instead. He gently grabbed her chin and drew her face back towards his, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Go on...kiss me," he said patiently.

She stared into his eyes, her gaze dipping down to his mouth and back up again, that little darting tongue wetting her bottom lip. She leaned in, hesitant, their breath mingling for several heartbeats before she brushed her lips lightly against his.

He waited, only opening his lips slightly against hers, letting her come to him.

Her hands smoothed in slow circles on his chest, her head lowering to his. Her lips pressed more firmly to his this time and he had to stifle a groan, resisting the desire to crush her to him. She angled her head slightly, opening her mouth against his, the tip of her tongue seeking out his, her hips flexing against him instinctively.

Still he held back, allowing her to trace the lines of his chest and shoulders with greedy fingertips. Emboldened by his stillness, she slid her hands up into his hair, her mouth pressing against his with a new insistence. Her hands strayed back down to his chest, her thumbs making gentle sweeping strokes over his nipples, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from grabbing her. She made her way down his chin with her kisses, licking and nipping at his neck as he'd done to her so often. At his hissing indrawn breath he saw her smile with satisfaction. She was enjoying torturing him the same way he'd tortured her. She bent her head and replaced her wicked thumbs with her lips and swirling tongue, sucking his nipple gently, then harder.

His patience and control snapped, and he grabbed her by the hair and the back of her head and crushed her lips to his. He chased her back with his tongue, thrusting into her mouth with a new urgency, his lips taking hers roughly. With a low groan against her mouth, he slipped his hands down over her hips and under the beautiful roundness of her bottom, lifting and pressing her against his throbbing erection through the boxer shorts. She clung to him with a soft moan.

He broke off the kiss, gasping for breath. "I want to be inside you," he growled into her hair, his hands grasping her and pulling her up against the aching length of his cock. She whimpered his name in response, her arms circling his neck, her breasts crushed to his chest.

Her hands were at his hips, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, impatient as he was to be skin to skin, when it occurred to him. His condom stash was back in the bedroom. He groaned, letting his head drop back to the headrest of the chair. The last thing he wanted to do was move. She felt so good pressed to him, her bare skin creating a delicious friction against his thighs, her wet little cunt dampening his boxers. He couldn't wait, he had to have her now.

But he grabbed her wrists, stilling her efforts to strip him. "Babe...I haven't got anything..."

She pressed against him even more insistently, wrenching a strangled groan from him as she rubbed against him shamelessly.

He tried again, "They're back in the bedroom..." He tried to push her off his lap, but she clung to him, moaning in protest.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a whimper.

"Of course it matters!" he said,

She dropped her head to rest against his shoulder before raising her eyes back up to his. "I'm on the pill," she confessed, her cheeks flushing pink.

On the pill? He stared back at her, incredulous. "Why didn't you say anything before?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"You didn't ask, did you," she said.

He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts, his body still screaming to continue what they started. She was right. He hadn't even thought to ask. Just planned the whole thing out and done it his own way. On his terms.

He opened his eyes and looked deep into her waiting gaze, mind still racing. He believed her, that wasn't it. Maybe he'd planned it that way on purpose. To put yet another barrier between himself and that thing that drew him so madly.

Eyes locked onto hers, watching every subtle shift in her gaze, he flexed his hips up against her, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her sensitive centre. She whimpered, her eyes dipping closed before returning to his, darker, eyelids lowered, full of understanding of what it was he wanted.

She rose up off his knees long enough for them to tug his boxers off, her hands filled with the same heated urgency that twitched through his whole body. When she settled back onto him, he scooped her firmly towards him until her wet heat pressed against the hard length of his erection. He held her hips tightly, keeping her from moving against him, fighting for breath. Neither of them spoke.

Gathering his dangerously frayed control, he exhaled slowly, looking deep into her wide brown eyes. He wanted to watch her...to look into her eyes when he pushed inside her. Wanted to see her lose herself. To lose herself because of him.

Keeping her eyes on his, he gripped her firmly around the waist and lifted her over top of his erection, letting the aching tip find her entrance, and held her there. Her chest heaving with every breath, her eyes dark and begging, locked on his. Softening his hold on her hips, he waited, letting her feel him pressing into her, blinking slowly at her once in assent. He felt her hands grip his shoulders more tightly as she began to lower herself onto him, slowly impaling herself on his cock, her tight heat steadily engulfing him.

Oh, fuck. Oh god. He felt himself begin to tip over the edge, the sensations sending white sparks to the backs of his eyes. How could anything feel this good? He groaned, his head pressed back against the chair, his hips flexing to meet hers.

She settled against him and he stilled his movements, just letting her adjust to his body invading hers. She shifted forward and let out a shaky whimper as it pushed him even deeper into her. Seconds ticked by, neither of them moving, both of them just absorbing the sensation of being connected so intimately.

He gave up on getting his breath back, and concentrated on massaging her waist, leaning in to bury his face against her neck, biting down gently on her shoulder and just hanging on. Her arms tightened around his neck, her breasts pressed up against his chest, but still he didn't move.

It was when his mouth made its way up her neck in slow kisses, his tongue making long slow sweeps against her skin that her hips twitched against his. It was when he angled his mouth over hers and captured her lips in a leisurely, devouring kiss that she arched helplessly against him.

This wasn't fucking. This was being joined at the very core by a steadily expanding orb of pure pleasure. He guided her hips, pulling her closer, showing her how to rock against him, slow and deep. He caught her whimpers with his kisses, groaned against her mouth at the exquisite friction.

He leaned back in the chair and allowed her free reign, her confidence growing, her movements fluid enough to take his breath right out of his chest. He let her ride him, taking her pleasure, holding himself back, steeling his steadily slipping control. Conscious only of the silky heat clenched tight around him, her soft weight pressing down on his thighs, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as her movements grew ever more erratic.

Up the curve of her belly he caressed with his hands, rising to cup her breasts and mould himself to their sweet heaviness. His thumbs found her nipples, and she was soon gasping and crying, her body moving against his jerkily, urgently. He knew she was close.

Threading his fingers through her hair he tugged her towards him, drew her lips to his, darted his tongue in to meet hers. The warm wave lifted them, carried them.

She gripped at his back and pulled herself ever tighter to him. Gasping, he fell back, arching, flexing his hips, wanting to be deeper and deeper inside her. He pulled her hands forward to brace against his chest before guiding them down the flat of his stomach to the place where their bodies joined.

Her eyes found his, questioning, uncertain, dark with need.

"Make yourself come," he said, gasping. "Come for me..."

Her eyes drifted closed as she moaned, her head tilting back, her hands pressed tight against herself in answer to his words

He watched, rapt, as her small fingers found their mark, circling in tandem to the rocking of her hips against his. Gripping her waist, he pulled her ever closer, helping her maintain the rhythm. He latched onto a breast, sucking her taut nipple deep, suckling hard, his ears full of her cries.

When she did come, he was as transfixed as she was. Watching her face as the first wave of her orgasm hit was enough to push him right to the edge, and when her body clutched at him in deep, hard spasms he realised he was going over with her. It wasn't the mad, screaming release from before. It crept up slow and warm and just held him there exquisitely before the heat and the final rush.