Jack: Nirvana
I open my eyes again. I think for a moment that I’m finally dead. But Riley’s in front of me. I’m alive. She’s sitting on the far end of the large bed with an old book. Her eyes are on me, watching me intently. I look around the room. White curtains billow out with a warm breeze. Sunlight trickles in. The sheets are white linen and the room is light wood. It’s not prison. I have no idea where I am. My hands are tied to the bedposts with soft cloth.
I’m filled with the most intense joy at being alive and having Riley here before me. I feel guilty for being so happy about it.
I wonder if Riley’s kept me alive just so she can see the life drain from my eyes when she stabs me or strangles me. But she doesn’t.
She’s wearing a white cotton summer dress. All I can think is, she’s beautiful.
“You’ve been in and out for a few days,” she finally says. She crawls up the bed, cradles my head, and brings a glass to my lips.
“I thought you were going to leave me on the oil rig.”
She leans down, her breasts pressing against my shoulder and chest, and brings her lips to mine. “You’re an idiot, Jack.”
I look at my tied hands.
“You were thrashing in your sleep. I was worried you were going to open the wounds.”
“How…”
“I made a deal with Victor on the way out—he was just coming to. I told him Daemon was dead. Told him I'd give him a head start on taking over. He wanted to kill us both, but he didn't want to try it while I had a gun. He went off to try to take out Daemon's other top guys on the rig. A few minutes later everyone was fighting each other. It was a mess. The bomb you put on the plane took out one of the main pillars. You were right, the rig was collapsing—sinking. You're heavy as hell, you know that?"
She’s smiling.
“I had to drag you through it. Luckily they didn’t care much about a naked girl and a dead-looking guy in the middle of everything else. I got you on a lift and down to a little boat. I thought you were going to die out on the water. I used the sun like you showed me—turned us west, towards land. I was trying to stop the bleeding. I thought there was no way you were going to make it.”
She pauses and kisses me again, sweetly, as if she just couldn’t wait for the end of the story to do it.
“Then this little propeller plane shows up and starts circling us. I figure it's guys from the rig—figure that we're done. It circles us, comes back, and nearly crash-lands. And Wyatt and Benjy pop out. I don't think either of them really knows how to fly. Did you tell them to do that?"
“No…I told them to go back to New York.”
“They got your body in the plane and we went for Cuba. It was closest and safest. They wanted to land on a little drug-smuggling runway, but we didn’t have time, so they landed it on some back road—I don’t know how we survived that—stole a car, and raced for a hospital. I don’t know how you made it. It took hours and hours to get you from that oil rig to the hospital. The doctors thought you were done when we brought you in, but we made them operate. I mean, Wyatt made them operate with a lot of money and a lot of threats. I think he might own a wing of that hospital now. But they were good. They saved you.”
I look around the room again, still hazy and confused. Riley kisses me again.
“You were in a coma for a week. We stole you when you first came out of it and moved you here. We’re in a little house about an hour away from Havana, on the south side of Cuba, on the Bay of Batabano.”
“You did that? Wyatt and Benjy helped you?”
I realize that she’s crying. Sweet tears are running down her cheeks and I want to brush them away but my hands are still tied.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I’m happy that you’re alive, and that you’re still you, and that you remember me, you idiot. You know, some people actually like you, Jack, fear and threats aside.”
And then she slips the straps off her shoulders and pushes her dress down her waist. Her gorgeous breasts spill out and she leans in and kisses me again and again. Sweet little kisses and long, passionate ones. I kiss her back hungrily. Her naked breasts press against my chest and then she lifts them up and I suck and nibble at them and she moans—a perfect little moan of ecstasy.
I still feel woozy and my body aches in a dozen places, even though I’m pretty sure I’m still on a lot of heavy painkillers. But I don’t care. I’ve done far more difficult things than make love to Riley Lark and her gorgeous body, even with my own broken figure. She tugs the sheet away and I’m naked under it except for dozens of bandages. I’m throbbing with arousal for her.
“They said no strenuous exercise,” she says with an adorable, purposeful pout.
“Fuck doctors,” I say. I can’t believe this is happening. Riley’s free but she still wants me.
She's not wearing panties or a bra. She tugs her dress up and over her head and her exquisite, naked body is in front of me. Her warm, ample thighs straddle me. I want to rip through the ties on my hands and ravish her, but I'm not quite sure I can even lift my head up at the moment. Slowly, she lowers her warm wetness over my throbbing cock and then sinks down onto me with a gorgeous little moan.
She lays down over me, gently so as to not hurt my damaged body. Her breasts and stomach feel incredible against mine. Her skin is warm with arousal and she’s covered in a light, perfect layer of sweat from the warm afternoon air. She kisses my chest and then my lips.
I wonder again if this is some trick. Maybe she’s building things up to make it more of a painful contrast when she kills me. I don’t care. If it means I get to sleep with Riley one more time it’s worth it.
I can feel her heart racing. She slowly sinks all the way down my length. I can feel her clenching in arousal. I realize our hearts are racing together in time. She slowly arches her back and rolls her hips, lifting all the way back up, then sinking back down with a little shudder and moan. Slowly she uses my cock to fuck herself like that, over and over again. She doesn’t dare go any faster for fear of opening up my wounds. It feels incredible.
Her soft hands caress my broken body. Every once in a while she takes her lips from mine and kisses my chest and arms and neck. Then she returns and we kiss, deep and long and slow. We make love for a long, long time until she starts to tremble against me. At the bottom of each stroke, she starts to grind her sweet, orgasmic spot against my pelvis, arousing herself even more.
“Oh, Jack, I can't fucking take any more. I'm going to cum."
I have to say it. I realize she won’t say it back—that it’s not even fair to say it to her. But I can’t help myself.
“I love you.”
She clings to me and trembles with ecstasy. “I love you.” She says it with just as much intensity as me—as if she’s saying it for the first time and not in response.
She sinks onto me one last time and then I feel her clench, then tremble and writhe as an orgasm takes her and carries her away. I let myself go. My cock throbs and spasms and cum floods deep inside of her warmth. We orgasm together and kiss passionately as we’re carried away in ecstasy. We’re both gasping and covered in sweat.
We’re in love.
Riley stays on top of me and sweetly wraps herself around me. When her gasping breaths have finally calmed she says, “Should I move? Am I hurting you?”
“No. I don’t ever want you to move.”
We lay together for a long time, just breathing. Riley gives me sweet little kisses every once in a while. Eventually, she falls asleep, her perfect face resting against my chest. For a long time, I watch her dream. I feel the wonderful warmth and weight of her body against mine. And then I drift back off to sleep in the gentle afternoon warmth.