Patrick

I really was the pussy, the coward, my father said I was.

That was the inescapable conclusion that hit me as I hid in my office more than two hours after I had brought Nya home.

It was late, closer to morning than night, but I was wide awake and restless.

And to my surprise, my disgust, my utter confusion, it wasn’t because of Aengus. At least not directly.

It was all Nya.

Or rather, what she had said to me.

I had given her my most scary, caveman voice, not interested in hearing what she had to say. To no one’s surprise, least of all my own, she hadn’t cared.

No, she had ignored the warning signs, plowed ahead, intent on making her point.

Maybe it was what I deserved.

I’d done much the same thing to her, entered her parents’ home, made my pronouncement about how childish she was being.

I’d stood by it too, even in the face of her anger, maybe even because of it.

Now she was repaying me in kind.

In a lot of ways, it would’ve been easier if I could write it off as her getting back at me, using the opportunity to throw back the words I’d thrown at her.

But it wasn’t that.

She had told me those things, pushed past all of my warnings, ignored the potential dangers to herself for one simple reason.

Because she cared.

I had more or less convinced myself that she would hate me forever.

Figured I deserved as much.

But this…

It was something I didn’t understand, didn’t really know what to do with.

And, there was the matter of what she’d actually said.

For some reason, her words hit me in a way that I hadn’t expected.

I hadn’t really considered what she would say, but if I had to guess, I would’ve maybe expected pity, maybe some small expression of sadness because I had a person like him as a father.

But no, not Nya. She hadn’t given me that.

Instead of giving me sympathy, which I didn’t want and wouldn’t accept, instead of babying me, which I might have been more open to, she had done the last thing I had expected.

She had turned it around on me, made this not about him, about what a fucking waste of life he was, but about me, my reactions.

It had taken balls for her to say that to me, and that she cared enough to was something I didn’t understand.

Something I didn’t know if I ever could.

Lots of people had wanted things from me, had attempted to get them, but no one except my brothers had ever cared. I had a lot to deal with, had more things on my plate than I could keep track of.

Not the least of which was who had tried to kill me, and what role my father might have played in that.

But I wasn’t thinking of any of those things right now. Wasn’t thinking of anything but her.

I ripped the study door open and made my way up the stairs, unwilling to walk as fast as I wanted to, desperate to have at least that small bit of separation.

It was meaningless, my own meager attempt to wrangle something like control out of the situation, though deep inside, I knew I had lost that completely, maybe had never had it when it came to her.

Still, I kept my steps measured, didn’t allow myself to run as I wanted to.

Instead I walked slowly, kept my gaze straight ahead, with each step my anticipation growing, my wonder at how this had happened growing.

A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have even believed it could, but I knew there was no doubt now.

I was in love.

That love would eventually lead to heartbreak.

Because Nya might have her emotions toward me, might care enough to tell me when I was standing in my own way, might even enjoy my touch, but those things, important as they were, didn’t change the fundamental fact that she, despite how she might have cared about me as a person, could never accept my life.

Some part of me didn’t want her to.

Right now, I couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like to live without her, knew that I would miss her every single moment of the day.

But I also knew it was better for her to be away from me. She didn’t like this life, and, I could admit, despite my best efforts, I didn’t know if I could keep her safe, really safe, for the rest of her life. I would not allow her to be hurt, even if I destroyed myself trying to protect her.

My brothers and I had never made anything like an official pact, but it was an understanding that we’d never have families.

We’d never said so out loud, but I knew it all the same, and never in my life had I been tempted to break that pact.

But when I was with Nya…

I couldn’t help it. My mind ventured there, imagined what it would be like if she was mine.

I was again setting myself up for failure, making it even more likely that I would be hurt in the end, but there was no avoiding it.

So I would simply have to accept it, learn to live with it when she was gone, but while she was here, I would enjoy it, allow myself to experience the feelings I had for her, feelings that were almost like love, while I could.

I paused outside my bedroom door, looked inside to where she lay.

The hall was only lit by a small light, but it was enough to allow me to see her. I lingered, my chest squeezing at the thought of how right it was that she was here, in my house, in my bed.

Remembered that she could never be mine.

I turned, was about to walk away, but stopped at the sound of her voice.

“Patrick?”

She spoke with a voice that was a mix of tenderness and longing, one that was absolutely irresistible.

I turned, walked back in.

She stood now, her body ripe, beckoning me under the T-shirt she wore. I was again punched in the chest by the need to hold her, the desire to be close to her. The feeling of absolute rightness when she was near.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I moved, got closer, then closer and crushed her against me.

Not even a minute passed before I covered her lips with mine, kissed her with all the emotion I dared not speak.

She kissed me back, her unwillingness to be a bystander in anything again showing.

But it wasn’t as it so often was with Nya and me, a war for dominance. Instead this time she kissed me with that same longing, the same passion, her ferociousness only serving to tell me that she would match me step for step, that she would be there.

That awareness again sent my chest clenching.

No one would ever match me as she did, and she wouldn’t stay. I again reminded myself that I had her now, that I would enjoy her now.

And so I did, letting my hands roam her body, touching her through the thin shirt, the barrier making the connection that much more intense, the fabric under my hands, her skin underneath creating the most wonderful sensation.

She slipped under my shirt, and when she put her soft, warm hands on my back, I sighed, the feeling of her touching me better than I’d imagined, better than ever before, my realization, acceptance of these feelings giving our physical connection an even stronger intensity.

I made quick work of my shirt, then hers, not allowing more than a few seconds to pass without me touching her.

I ran my thumb across her full lips, moved across her neck and shoulders, letting my fingertips trail across her silken skin before I stepped closer and covered her lips with mine.

She sighed out as she kissed me back, and I let her, anxious to accept whatever she was willing to offer. She arched her back, crushed her breasts against my chest as she moved her hands down to cup my solid cock in her palm.

Not content to be left out, I ran my fingers up the inside of her thigh, held her sex in my hand as I pressed my palm down flat.

The hard nub of her clit pressed against my palm, and when I closed my hand tighter, squeezing her pussy, she cried out, arched her back deeper, her breath coming out in harsh little pants that were ragged.

This felt different, more intense, and some part of me wondered if she might be feeling at least a fraction of what I did.

I knew that wasn’t possible, knew that her reaction was physical, probably just something that she was accepting since the circumstances were what they were.

Still, that little part of me that life hadn’t yet managed to kill wondered if it could be true. Wondered if maybe, possibly, Nya could feel something of what I felt for her.

“Please, Patrick.”

The low whimper brought me back to the present, and for a moment I felt crushing disappointment.

For a second there I had thought that maybe she was speaking of something deeper, maybe expressing those feelings that I wouldn’t dare, but that was gone.

I had been absentmindedly toying with her clit, touching her but not giving the direct stimulation that she craved. That was the source of her low-breathed beg. It had nothing to do with feelings, something deeper, despite how I wanted it to.

Still, there might not be more, but I could give her this. Would give her this.

“What do you want, Nya?” I whispered, my lips close to her ear, my hand still curved against her sex as the other lightly twisted her nipple.

“You. Inside me,” she replied instantly.

God, I would never tire of those words, wondered what I would do when she was no longer there to whisper them. I pushed the thought away, though, wouldn’t let it detract from this moment, one where I held a beautiful woman in my arms, a beautiful woman that I knew I loved now and forever. One who needed my touch.

“Show me where,” I said.

I let go of her, pushed her back against the bed.

She threw her legs open passionately, reached between them, her fingers working her clit as she watched me through heavy-lidded, passion-filled eyes.

I watched her back, taking in each of her movements in the semidarkness of the bedroom. As I did, I quickly opened and stepped out of my pants.

When I gripped my cock at the base and gave it a long stroke, Nya’s fluid motions stuttered and her eyelids dropped another fraction.

“Like that?” I asked, pumping my cock again, hardening further when she let out a hard breath.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, that openness, brazenness that I always thought of when I thought of her showing up again.

“Let me see how much,” I said as I approached.

She breathed out and as she did, she opened her thighs wider, wide enough that the dim light from the hallway hit her pussy, showing me how wet she was for me.

My cock jerked in my hand, and when I reached the edge of the bed, I wasted no time in joining her. I settled my body between her legs, and she hooked her knees around my waist, pulling me even closer, so my cock was trapped between my body and hers.

Her wet cunt on one side of my shaft, my own body on the other created an amazing friction, and when I shifted, letting my cock slide against her wetness, I almost came right there.

Nya seemed to enjoy the feeling too, especially when my cockhead bumped her clit. She squeezed her fingers closed against my sides, moved her hips up and down, rubbing her pussy against my shaft. The sensation was mind-blowing, but not enough.

I wanted to be inside her, needed to be inside her.

I stilled her by pressing her back into the bed, and without pausing, I lined our bodies up, the tip of my cock edging against her hot hole.

Instinct urged me to push in, but I waited, wanting to stretch out this moment, wanting to make sure that I would remember each second that passed.

But when Nya arched, pulling me ever so slightly inside her, I was powerless to do anything but give in.

I looked between us, watched in the shadowed darkness as her cunt swallowed my cock inch by inch.

The dual sensations of seeing her take me as I felt the same thing was breath stealing, and I tightened my grip on her hip, squeezing so tight, I might have left a bruise. Still, I continued to push inside of her, forcing myself to go slow, forcing myself to remember every moment.

When I was fully inside her, she shivered, clamped her walls down on me.

My cock jerked inside her, and I slammed my eyes shut, attempting to stave off the climax that was so close. I breathed for a moment, another, and when Nya shifted under me, I had no choice but to move.

On the next stroke, I realized that I wasn’t wearing a condom. I also realized that I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t want anything between us, wanted to mark her, claim her, maybe leave a piece of me inside her forever.

At that thought, I thrust harder, let out a breath that seemed to be ripped from my throat. Nya underneath me, her wet, hot core squeezing me in a viselike grip that was my undoing.

She slammed her walls down on me harder, her body going stiff as she screamed her climax. I had no choice but to join her, and as she cried out, I let myself go, released my seed inside her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered, or even existed. I was simply with her, this woman I loved, one I would have to figure out how to let go.

But for now I continued to thrust inside her, long after I had emptied the last of my seed. I was near frantic, didn’t want to leave her, so I stayed as long as I could, giving her all I had.

More.

Enough to last forever.