Chapter Fifteen
Rachel
The icy liquid slides down my throat. I’m sharing a half frozen Coke that Sasha’s crushed a lime into. He smiles when I put the glass to his lips.
“I remember this,” he says, taking a swig. “You made me drink.”
“What do you remember from that time?” I ask.
“Parts of it. I remember knowing you were nearby, which I liked,” he says.
I’m glad that helped. He slides an arm around my waist, lifting me and carrying me to the bed. He sits down with me on his lap, the glass still in my grasp.
I swirl the pulverized lime and ice around, then drink the last of it before resting the glass on his shoulder. “You were like a fallen tree,” I say. “Solid. Massive. Sleeping.”
“C said they gave up.”
I look away for a moment, remembering the way they were. C’d been frustrated and closed down in his grief, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes. Trick had been drunk and stoned, but I’d caught him hunched over with red-rimmed eyes one night. I knew it was quietly killing them. Maybe tough men who’ve lost too many friends can’t hold onto hope the same way over and over. It seemed like it was all they could do to just get through each day.
“I held on. It wasn’t as hard on me because you and I weren’t close then. But I felt for them,” I say. “I’d lost my mom.”
“She’s not dead.”
“No, but she’s been gone for years now. And it never stops hurting completely. I think that’s the way it might’ve been for them if you’d died. When someone’s been a fixture in your life, part of every day, someone you’d risk your life for, that’s a different kind of loss. You always feel it.” I wait, but he says nothing. Finally, I lower my head to lick the circular bruise on his chest from my teeth. “I put my mark on you,” I say, glancing at his face.
“Pick your spot and make a permanent one.”
I smile at him. “Should we get matching tattoos?” I ask, tracing the thick muscle that travels from his neck to his shoulder.
“Whatever.”
I move to straddle him, pushing my chest against his as I run my tongue between the seam of his lips. He opens his mouth, and I slip inside, tasting tangy lime and sweet Coke.
He lies back, sending the glass rolling onto its side and launching a couple of ice cubes into the sheets.
My palms rest on his chest, holding me up while I sit astride him.
“Slide that pretty pussy back. I’ve got something for it.”
I smile, glancing over my shoulder to find him stroking his thick cock, which is fully erect, pre-cum glistening on the head. I look back at his face. “Why do you like me on top?”
He puts a hand behind his head. “For the view.”
My nipples tighten and I lean back, stretching my arms over my head. His hot gaze never leaves me.
“Your body’s more special than mine,” I say, moving back, glancing at the expanse of his chest and hard, flat abs. “The top one percent in terms of strength and endurance.” I touch his scar, then raise up and take him into me. I’m soaked and ready, but also sore. I exhale, biting down on my lip.
“Ride me,” he says.
I slide up and then come down. I rub him against all the sensitive places, and I gasp, my back bowing. “More?”
“Yeah.”
I take him deep, over and over. I like the sharp sensations that rattle me, but can’t keep it up. I fall forward and rake my nails over his chest, coming off.
“I’m sore. It’s too intense.”
In a single smooth move he sweeps me under him, kissing me as he reenters me gently. The shallow pulses connect to the way he rubs my clit with his pelvis. He rests on his forearms, his torso skimming over me. He husks out a breath.
