“Seriously.” She nods gravely and looks down at my crotch. I’m naked, and, oh shit, I’m getting hard under her gaze. Her hand moves to the stud in my nipple, toying with it, and sensation tears through me, shooting straight into my dick, so that it tightens and rises against my stomach. “Tell me,” she says.
No clue what she’s talking about. Fuck.
“About the Jacob’s Ladder,” she goes on, still toying with the damn piercing. “Why did you put it in? Does it feel good when you have sex?”
“I, uh…” Her hand trails down my chest to my cock, and how the hell am I supposed to think like this? “Yeah.”
“So is that why you did it?”
“No. Dakota… Oh shit.” Her hand now toys with the Jacob’s Ladder, tiny tugs and taps that make my body arch.
“It must have hurt.”
“Yeah. But I’m used to it.”
Her hand pauses. “You like the pain.”
My hips move restlessly. “Depends.”
“On what?”
Christ. “Sometimes I need it. Not much. Just a little.”
“Is that why you cut your arms?”
Oh hell. I clench my jaw and throw an arm over my face. Of course she noticed. “Yeah. I used to. Have you ever done it?”
She doesn’t answer my question. Instead she asks another. “What about drinking?”
“What about it?”
“Do you often get drunk off your ass?”
I shrug. My cock throbs in her hand. “Sometimes. Don’t need it when you’re here.” And ain’t that crazy?
“Good.”
Her hand clenches around my dick, and a long moan leaves my throat. “Christ, you’re killing me.”
“How do the piercings feel when you get a blow job?” She moves down my body and licks the tip of my cock as if it’s her favorite cherry popsicle.
“Ugh.” My mouth won’t work. My brain is exploding. Am I supposed to answer?
“I guess we’ll find out,” she says and swallows my cock, taking it deep.
Shit, so fucking good. She sucks on me, swirls her hot tongue on the underside, then pulls up licking the head and the small slit there. She takes me deeper again, her tongue playing with my piercings, and my hips come off the mattress.
Oh yeah, baby. Damn. I won’t last five seconds. My balls lift and tighten, my dick swells and throbs in time to my racing heartbeat.
I’m not in control, I realize. I’ve given it up to her. And she’s taking care of me. I reach down, stroke her hair off her face, and she winks at me. Her mouth curves into a smile, wrapped as it is around my cock, and my vision grays.
I distantly hear myself groan, see my hips lift and jerk. Feel the cum shoot from my balls out my dick, burning me with pleasure. Feel like I’m falling, or flying, or hovering in space.
When it’s over, after what feels like ages have passed and the world has resumed spinning, I lie there, panting like a lizard on a hot rock, my body boneless and heavy.
Dakota is kneeling on the bed, eyeing me. I have to say something. Anything.
“That was…” I lick my dry lips. “That was fucking awesome.”
And I mean it. Never felt anything like it.
“Because of the piercings?” She sits there, totally naked, sexy as fuck, and she’s asking me this?
“Hell no. That was all you, babe.”
She cocks her head to the side, smiling again. “Babe?”
Oh shit. Slipping again. Me, giving cute pet names to my girl?
And there it is. My girl. Girlfriend. Lover. Friend.
“Come here.” I reach for her, and she crawls up to curl in the crook of my arm. She tilts up her face, and I kiss her, powerless to resist.
“Come here, babe,” she mutters on my lips, and I laugh.
Can’t count how many times she has made me laugh in these last days. More than I have in months.
“My babe,” I whisper, and she captures my lips in another kiss.
I’m still flying high. It’s warm and bright up here, and I don’t wanna look down. Those alarm bells? Let them ring inside my head. I don’t care.
I’ll take my chances.
It’s Wednesday, and work at Damage Control is slow. One of my customers calls to cancel, and I go out for a smoke. I send Dakota a text, asking how she’s doing, but get no reply. She was busy with a graphics project when I left home this morning.
Home. Yeah, it’s starting to feel like home now, more than ever. The thought of finding another roommate is impossible. I want to ask her to move in with me. Maybe tonight, after dinner.
If I manage to keep my hands off her long enough to keep my brain functioning.
Smirking, I shove the cell in my back pocket. So okay, a tiny twinge of fear still jabs into my insides. I’m still out of my depth, still floundering, but Dakota doesn’t seem to mind. She laughs, pokes me in the ribs, tickles me, then kisses me and fixes everything in my world.
She’s like magic glue. Pretty, sexy, crazy super glue that keeps me together when I think I’ll break down or lose it.
I’ll buy her a fridge just for her popsicles. I’ll buy her lollipops so that her lips always taste like strawberry candy. I’ll…
Fuck. I snort to myself and shake my head. I throw my cigarette stub to the sidewalk and step on it, then turn to go back inside, when my cell beeps with a message. Grinning, I pull it out.
But it’s not from Dakota. It’s from Matt. An icy feeling grips my stomach. Good news? No way. I open and read it. It’s short and just asks if I can talk.
I’m still staring at it, trying to gather the courage to call him, when the door of the shop swings open, and Rafe steps out.
“Hey.” He ambles over to me, hands in his pockets. “Got a minute?”
Can’t find my voice. Mind still caught on the message. Maybe it is good news. Why the hell not? Why does my mind have to go directly to the bad? Maybe Emma is better. Maybe there’s been a miracle. Medical miracles happen all the time.
“Z-man?” Rafe is watching me, eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Relax, man. The guys and I just want to ask if you could talk to Dylan.”
“Talk?” I can’t form a coherent sentence. My mind feels torn into ribbons. My thoughts are threadbare.
“Yeah, talk to him. Ask him what is wrong. He won’t talk to us, but he’ll talk to you. You know that.”
I look down at my cell. I have to call Matt. No choice. “Okay.”
“Good.” Rafe nods, still giving me a suspicious look. “You all right?”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
“Zane—”
“Not now, fucker.”
“But you—”
“Not now, dammit.”
Rafe scowls. “I’ve been asking for months, dammit. We look after each other. You said—”
“Fuck what I said. Fuck everyone.” My blood burns. My chest is tight. “I can’t look after anyone. So why don’t you fuck the hell off.”
Rafe’s mouth falls open. He pales. Then without another word, he turns around and gets back inside.
He didn’t punch me, as I thought he might. As I hoped he might, so that I don’t have to make that phone call and find out what I don’t wanna know.
My fingers tremble as I scroll through my contacts, find Matt’s number and hit ‘call.’ I reach into my pocket for my packet of cigarettes. Before I locate it, Matt answers.
“Zane.” His voice is rough as if he’s been smoking day and night. Maybe he has. “Hey.”