EIGHT
Lenny
It wasn't that I was having second thoughts about the sex.
Sex was sex.
I'd never had flowers and candy and love making and all that sappy stuff. I doubt I would want it if I had.
It always had been, and I figured it always would be, about the release. Physically, sure, but also emotionally, mentally.
If my days were too long, too filled with useless garbage, that was when I called up a guy I had an agreement with, that was when I knew I needed to come so I didn't murder an entire town because everyone seemed to choose to be an asshole that day.
That was all it was.
And that was all it would ever be.
But I couldn't shake this weird sensation I felt inside, like this was something different.
Logically, that made no sense. I barely knew the man.
Maybe it had less to do with him, and more to do with me, and what was coming up soon, what it would mean for me in the short and long term.
Maybe I was, what was the word? Projecting.
It had to have nothing to do with him.
Those words, I swear, they were like a challenge to myself.
I needed to prove them true. I needed to know that I wasn't being some sappy chick about it all.
My hand planted at his far shoulder as I raised up onto my knees, then slowly slid to straddle him, watching those dark, bottomless eyes of his, loving the way they went heavy-lidded, seemed to somehow burn into me with their heat.
"Something like this," I told him a moment before my lips closed over his, swallowing the low, deep, primal growl in his chest as I did so.
There was an unfamiliar dropping sensation in my stomach, similar to that of driving over a deep slope at a high speed when I was too young and reckless to know any better.
Scary and addictive.
Exciting, but because there was danger involved.
I shook off that thought, trying to convince myself that there was nothing here to be dangerous - just bodies enjoying bodies.
That was it.
That had to be it.
I would make sure of it.
Edison's arm went right around the back of my shoulders, crushing my body to his, making my breasts flatten to the solid wall of his chest, my desire-hardened nipples pressing tightly into him, making another growl escape him.
His other arm rose, the hand grabbing the back of my neck, keeping my face close to his as he deepened the kiss, bruising his lips into mine, his beard burning across my cheeks and chin, the rough scrape sending a surge of desire between my legs, making my thighs tighten to the side of his body.
An almost pained whimper escaped me, allowing my lips to part just enough for his tongue to move inside and claim mine.
I felt that way too, claimed.
It wasn't a sensation I could say I was overly familiar with, maybe one I had not ever felt at all before. But I did right then. I felt like Edison very much owned the sensations moving through me, was completely in control of my needs and desires.
His teeth snagged my lower lip, making my hips buck against the thick material of his jeans that was doing not a thing to mask the raging hardness of his cock.
My pussy slid against it as I jerked, allowing the thick head to press into my clit, making some gasping moan hybrid I hadn't ever heard before escape me.
At the sound, Edison's head pulled back, his heavy eyes watching my face that felt warm, overheated actually, and must have been flushed. I felt that all over, the slow heat spreading over my chest, stomach, thighs, until my whole body felt hot, way too hot, my clothes scratchy and oppressive against the overly sensitive skin.
Edison's arm slid higher, moving to rest just below my shoulder blades as he started bending forward, forcing me to simultaneously bend backward until my back was resting on the firm lines of his thighs, my hands gripped a bit too tightly into the sleeves of his tee before I could wrap my legs to anchor myself, even if my brain knew Edison wouldn't let me fall, that his reflexes were some of the fastest I had ever seen.
As soon as I was flat, his hands moved from around me, going to the hem of my shirt, slowly dragging it upward, the cool air in my apartment making the skin goosebump as it got exposed.
My nipples tweaked harder under the thin material of my tee. The scrape of it against the tightened peaks made my pussy clench hard just before I felt his fingertips stroke the undersides of my breasts before the material was pulled up and bunched near my collarbones.
"Fuck, Lenny," he growled, eyes devouring me like I was a feast amid a famine, like my barely-there breasts were somehow the best he had ever seen.
It shouldn't have, because male validation had never been something I had needed, but it totally did make a warm, liquid sensation move through my chest and belly, clearly enjoying the approval he offered.
But then all thoughts seemed to go flying out my ears when suddenly he was leaning over me, his beard tickling over my skin as his lips sucked in one of my nipples, pulling it into a tighter bud, making a surge of desire shoot from the contact and deep inside, a firm, unyielding pressure that needed release.
My back arched, pressing my breasts closer, begging for more.
His free hand moved up, stroking softly over my other breasts for a second before grabbing the nipple and rolling it, making another deep moan escape me as my hands stopped clutching and started exploring as much as the position would allow. Over the coiled muscles of his biceps, the vein that ran up the side of his forearm, then back up, lost for anywhere new to touch until I could move closer again. I was in no rush to do that, though, as his mouth shifted to take my other nipple in, sucking hard, making another surge of wet dampen my already soaked panties.
"Edison," my voice begged, needing more.
He lavished over my nipple with his tongue for another long moment before pulling up, reaching behind me to pull me to his chest again, snagging my shirt, then discarding it to some corner.
My greedy hands went for his as well, practically clawing at him in my desperation to feel his skin on mine.
A growling chuckle escaped him when I finally threw the material to the side, and let out some weird whimpering moan thing as my eyes moved over the strong lines of his chest, the indents to his abs, the trail leading somewhere that I really wanted to get better acquainted with.
But then he was yanking me forward, taking my lips again, crushing my much softer chest to his firm one, his chest hair tickling over the sensitive buds.
I was shameless in my need, letting my hips rock over him, drag up and down his hard cock, trying to get some relief from the oppressive weight on my lower stomach.
Sensing the need, his hand moved between us, making short work of my zip and button, then sliding confidently in, sneaking inside my panties, and raking over my clit with expert precision, making me buck against him, my lips ripping from his so I could look at him.
"Fucking drenched," he rumbled, the words rolling into each other. He growled everything normally, but something about it with the heaviness of desire had my pussy tightening hard.
I didn't beg.
I had never heard words like this come out of my mouth. But I was too far gone to care about overthinking it. "Edison, please," I whimpered, rubbing against him as he rolled my clit with barely-there pressure that was becoming almost painful with its teasing.
Edison was not the kind of man to not deliver.
His finger slid downward, pressing at the entrance for a second, before sliding inside me, thrusting lazily for a delicious second before curling inside me to rake over my G-spot.
It was fast, way faster than I knew was possible.
And while I tried to convince myself that it was because it had been so long, I had a feeling that it had less to do with that and more to do with the chemistry that was between us.
Whatever it was, though, had me crying out his name as an orgasm ripped suddenly, unexpectedly through my system.
There was another of his rumbling noises as he ran his lips up the column of my neck.
His finger pulled out of me, both hands moving to grab my hips, sinking in hard, allowing him to lift me so he could shift, then throw me back against the couch. His hand shifted, grabbing the waistbands of my pants and panties, and dragging them down my legs, angling them straight up in the air so he could free my ankles.
His eyes slid over me, his lids getting even heavier.
His hand moved out, stroking over the soft skin on the insides of my thighs, but then moving out to the side of my hip, fingers tracing over the delicate, feminine pink and green floral teacup I had tattooed there.
Letha had the matching teapot on her ankle.
"Don't ask," I half-pleaded as his eyes stayed on the spot. I swear you could silently hear the unspoken It would ruin this.
"What? he asked, eyes finding mine, lips twitching. "No brass knuckles or six shooters?" he wondered, making my own lips curve as his fingers slid away from a hot-button topic, sliding instead back down the top of my thigh, snagging my knee, and pressing it open wide, exposing myself to him.
There was hardly a pause before he was dropping down, reaching for my hips to drag me toward his waiting mouth, his tongue sliding confidently up my slit to circle my clit.
My thighs rose up, feeling his beard scratch across my inner thighs deliciously, making me decide right then and there that the only oral sex was bearded oral sex.
His lips sucked in my clit, making my hand slap down on his head, holding him to me, begging for more. My fingers found the band to his hair, working it free, spreading the silky raven strands downward, feeling them brush my thighs as well, sending another thrill through my system.
I was so caught up in the sucking, in the feel of his hair in my hands, the brush of his beard on my skin, that I didn't notice him moving his hand between us until I felt two fingers thrust deeply inside me.
I forgot all about his hair then, except maybe the fact that my fingers were threaded through it to hold him to me as he sucked and finger-fucked me harder, faster, driving me toward an edge I didn't think he was going to let me fall over, was going to make me suffer until I could come around his cock.
But as my walls tightened, as my whole body went tense to prepare, he just kept up his perfect unrelenting pace, not just pushing me to the edge, but shoving me over.
And I crashed into the orgasm, half-folding upward, crying out a sound that was as surprised as I felt, my inner thighs shaking at the intensity.
He pulled against my hold after, kissing up my thigh, then stomach, neck, as I slowly seemed to settle back inside my own body which felt unusually languid.
As someone who never really relaxed, it was a new sensation for me. I swear I was tense in my sleep, waking up achy as an old woman every morning.
I found it equally refreshing, and somewhat unsettling at the same time.
But then his body weight pressed down into me, his cock that was still contained by the thick jean material rubbing against my clit, making a seemingly impossible new surge of need grip me.
Two orgasms.
I should have been set for months.
But it wasn't nearly enough.
It never would be.
Not until I felt him inside me.
On that thought, my arms folded across his shoulders as my legs did the same to his lower back.
"Bed," I demanded as his tongue traced under my clavicle.
His hand planted on the couch beside me, pressing his body weight - and mine - upward off the material, his arm sliding behind me, slipping under my ass as he got to his feet.
He looked over my shoulder, seeking the door, then moving confidently toward it, looking down at me, not even noticing anything about the somewhat empty room where I had a bed that was older than me, a mattress I got on clearance at a big box store that was about as comfortable as sleeping on a sheet of plywood, and the pile of clothes on a small table across from it.
As he got to the foot, he turned, lowering himself down instead, moving flat, but pushing me so I sat upward. His hand slid almost reverently down my shoulder, breast, stomach, settling on my hip.
Uncomfortable with the intensity in his eyes, I pulled up, placing my legs on his sides, then scooting down the bed so I could snag the button and zip to his jeans, opening the sides, then yanking until he had to lift up to allow me to continue.
There was a thrill in my stomach at realizing his cock was every bit as thick and straining at it felt contained by his jeans and boxer briefs.
Then I had a thought that I wasn't sure I ever had before.
I need him in my mouth.
Not because he went down on me, not because it was expected, but because I wanted it.
I planted my hands on the scratchy low thread count sheets that were a nondescript ugly brown color, and lowered myself down to trace my tongue down the center of his abs, his Adonis muscles. My hand grabbed his cock at the base, holding it as my eyes found his, then I took him deep.
The guttural, almost pained sound that escaped him was all the encouragement I needed.
But as I worked him harder, faster, and his hand slapped down on the back of my neck, and his fingers curled in, and his body went tight, and his breath started to come out as hisses, yeah, that pushed me on too.
I was hardly even aware of the throbbing need between my thighs to feel fulfillment, to feel him rocking inside me, to feel the intensity of an orgasm that only came from being filled completely.
Because I was too fueled by the need to keep driving him as crazy as he had driven me, to feel him lose control, to taste his release.
But then the fingers were no longer gripping my neck; they were sinking into my hair and yanking hard until his cock left my greedy mouth with a pop.
"Some other time," he started, his other hand stroking over my lips that felt overly sensitive, almost swollen, "I'm gonna love watching you swallow every last drop," he told me, sending a thrill through my belly. "But tonight, I need to be inside you."
As if him putting the idea back on the table snapped me out of my unexpected blowjob stupor, I could suddenly feel the impact of my own desire settle back down on me all at once.
It was in the heaviness in my breasts, the aching sensation of my nipples, the pulsating need between my thighs, the pressure on my lower stomach.
Edison folded up as I felt my eyes getting heavier at the idea of his thick cock stretching me.
He reached past my body, seeking the pocket of his jeans that were still on, just below his knees, snagging his wallet, then kicking the material away. He pulled out the condom, then tossed the wallet as well.
His hand went to the back of my neck, pulling me down for a long, hard kiss, then pushing my face in toward his neck so his lips could brush my ear as he protected us.
"You gonna fuck me, love?" he asked, sending a shiver through my insides. My lips pressed into his neck as some weird sound escaped me that he seemed to take as an answer. As he finished with the condom and one of his hands went behind me to cup my ass, the other holding his cock, using it to stroke the head between my lips, never quite making contact with my clit. "Look at me, Lenny," he demanded, his voice as soft as someone who gargled glass could be. "Lenny," he demanded again when I didn't immediately move to follow instructions. His cock shifted, pressing hard into my clit, making a pained moan escape me as I shot back slightly looking down at his face. "There you are. I want to watch your face when my cock stretches this tight, wet pussy of yours," he told me, hand sinking into my ass harder, pulling upward, giving him the access he needed.
The head pressed against my entrance, feeling impossibly hard and thick, guaranteeing the stretching he just spoke of. My hips rocked, tried to sink, but his hands were controlling me, his eyes holding mine captive for an excruciatingly long second before his hands grabbed my hips and shoved downward, making my body take him to the hilt with a surprised moan, a slight pinch, and a whole-body shiver.
"Fuck," I whimpered, body tensing slightly at the invasion, my hips pulling up slightly to ease the ache.
"Too much?" he asked, eyes concerned.
I took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly as I slid back down on him, taking him fully, feeling a pinch as he settled deeper than anyone before, but finding myself somehow impossibly turned on by that fact. "Perfect," I countered, hand planting at his shoulder for balance so I could lift up, feel him slide halfway out of me, before pressing back down to the hilt on a whimper.
"Fuck," he growled. "That's a good look," he told me, his hand going to frame the side of my jaw.
And this moment, with his cock deep inside me, with his eyes boring into mine, I somehow had never felt more exposed as I did right then. It should have been scary for someone as opposed to intimacy as I had always been, but there was a deep, unexplainable comfort in the moment, making my movements slower than usual, unhurried to get to the grand finale so I could kick him out. I wanted it to last. I wanted to be lost in the moment forever.
His hand went back to my hip, guiding my movements as they got more erratic when the pressure built inside, when I knew that no matter how much I wanted the moment to last all night, that my body was loving the feeling of his thick cock sliding inside me too much to allow that.
"Come, Lenny," Edison demanded, voice as strained as my body felt, hand still framing my face, keeping eye-contact where I would normally bury my face to create a disconnect. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock."
And that was all I really needed.
My hips sank back down, and the orgasm crested, slowly at first, but deep. One hard, unhurried pulsation that had my breath gasping inward, before the waves started crashing harder, faster, making his name cry out from between my lips, as I watched the look of primal need, but also some kind of reverent wonder, pass over his face as my walls contracted hard around him.
There was a horrific, utterly unexpected sting at the backs of my eyes as the last waves coursed through me. I could feel my lips parting, my eyes shocking open wider as the glisten started.
Either seeing it and understanding my need to hide, or maybe just too close to his own orgasm to care as much anymore, his hand released my jaw, and my face buried so I could hard-blink and slow-breathe through the utterly absurd sting of tears as his hips jerked upward into me, and Edison came with my name cursing out from between his lips.
His arms wrapped around me after, a confinement I never would have allowed normally, but I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me to fight it, to pull away, to put the distance between us that was smart seeing as this was just a casual fuck, and the last thing we needed to do was let the feel-good hormones let us think it was more than that.
It wasn't, damnit.
Not even if my stupid ass was fighting wholly ridiculous tears.
I was just overworked, under-slept, and bone-deep worried about the six-month anniversary coming up in less than a week. That was the only explanation to my reaction.
I didn't do feelings.
I damn sure never did intimacy and lovemaking and after-sex snuggling.
Generally, I went back to his place so I could peace out while he dealt with the condom. Fuck buddies were fuck buddies, and I didn't need to explain my behavior.
Why then did I have this strange feeling like I needed to come up with some excuse as to why he couldn't stay over?
And why the ever-loving hell was there a stupid pang in my chest even at the idea of him leaving?
Edison's hand drifted lazily down my back, sending another of those freaking shivers through my body.
"Sensitive," he murmured innocently enough, honestly enough seeing as I did tend to react strongly to the barest of touches from him.
But my confused mind shocked back at that, at thinking he maybe thought I was being sensitive.
Which, well, I totally was.
And that was not okay.
I couldn't handle that right now.
I had too much on my plate.
I had bills to pay.
I had a body to toughen up.
I had a sister to worry about.
And I had a man's life hanging in the balance, it was becoming more and more clear that I was going to need to use all the training I had gained to take the breath out of his unworthy lungs.
I needed a good fuck, not feelings.
I had the fuck.
It was over.
It was time to shake it off, and move the hell on.
I didn't have time for this.
I didn't have the brain space to deal with my weird reaction to him.
"Uh-oh," Edison mumbled into my neck. "There she goes."
I pulled back, looking down at him with creased brows. "There who goes?"
"The real Lenny," he told me, voice matter-of-fact, eyes almost a little... disappointed?
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, voice a little more snippy than it should have been. But I was tired, confused, and I didn't know why I refused to move off of him, to disconnect. Usually, I couldn't lift off fast enough.
"Got to see the real you for a while tonight, love. Without all the guards, without the barbed wire and the growl."
My spine stiffened, not liking that, not wanting anyone to be able to see that I wasn't just who I portrayed myself to be, that there were other levels. It would serve no good purpose for that to get out.
"The guards and the barbed wire and the growl are the real me," I countered, voice seething.
"Don't lie to my fucking face, Lenny," he demanded, voice offended.
"I don't know who..." I started, then pushed hard at his chest, pulling against the hold that was still around me. "Let me up. I'm not having this argument with your cock still inside me," I snapped, shoving harder, this time him letting me go so I could jump off the end of the bed. "I don't know what the fuck you think just happened. But this is just sex. Just scratching an itch. You didn't get to somehow see behind some guards at some deeper, mushy Lenny. Your cock isn't a sledgehammer. Get the fuck over yourself."
I snatched a random shirt off the floor, pulling it on, glad when it came past my vag, giving me at least a little bit of cover.
"Right," Edison said, his voice still frustratingly calm as he moved to stand, reaching to pull his boxer briefs and pants back on, but leaving the front open, likely still all-too uncomfortably aware of his need to deal with the condom, but like me, needing to have a fight at least somewhat clothed. "So that was why when you came, you had tears in your eyes, right? That's why you looked at me like you'd never had a cock before. That's why you relaxed into my hold instead of pushing me away. Tell yourself whatever you need to tell yourself to be able to face yourself in the mirror, Lenny, but don't ever fucking lie to me and tell me that I didn't see what I saw. And that was that there is something else to you. Maybe you didn't mean to show it to me, but too fucking bad. You did. Deal with it."
"Deal with it?" I hissed, eyes getting small as my arms crossed over my chest.
Deal with it.
That was exactly what I needed not to do.
I needed to deny deny deny.
I needed to pretend this entire fucking night didn't happen. Even if I would feel the ache of him between my legs for a whole day.
"Tell you what," I said when he just stared at me with eyes that were boring in way too deep. "I will deal with it. By getting you out of my apartment. Goodnight, Edison. Thanks for the sex. Fuck you for this," I said, waving between us.
He nodded a bit solemnly at that, reaching to snag his shirt, pulling it on. He moved toward me after, head ducked down to keep unyielding eye-contact that I knew I couldn't break.
"I see you, Lenny," he told me, and those words had depth, sank down deep inside me where they most definitely didn't need to be. "And you're not as fucking scary as you think you are. I get you need this, the space to try to put your shields back up. But know this," he told me, snagging my chin hard enough so I couldn't simply whip my head to dislodge it, "I'm the only one who can see you. And you are going to fucking crave the freedom not to have to try so hard to hide yourself. And you are going to break. And call me. And despite this," he said, releasing my chin, waving between us, meaning the argument we were having, "I am going to pick up. Think you've never had a man who gave a shit enough to tell you that. So I'm telling you. Push me, shove me, spit your venom at me, but I'm still going to pick up when you need me."
With that, with that fucking bomb he just dropped into my life, he turned, and was gone.
And as my front door slammed, and his departure set off the timer, detonating into the quiet of my apartment, creating a void that had never been there before, sending shards of shrapnel shooting through the air, sliding into my skin, digging deep until parts of it managed to penetrate the cold, dead, lifeless thing I called a heart.
I slumped down onto my bed.
It shouldn't have mattered.
He was just a guy, one of many.
He was just a fuck, one of several.
He was nothing.
Yet, even as I tried to tell myself that, I knew it was a lie, and I somehow didn't have the strength even to try to convince myself of it this time.
He wasn't nothing.
He was the first man I had ever had in my life to tell me he would be there for me, to do so with an earnest determination, hellbent on showing me he meant it.
I wasn't sure how a well-adjusted woman handled that situation.
But damaged, fucked-up me, yeah she jumped off the end of her bed where she collapsed, ran into her bathroom, and threw up until there was nothing left in her system.
I was pretty sure that was not how I was supposed to respond.
But I guess I could always be counted on to find new levels of my fuckedupedness.