Karsen
I jolted awake locked in an unbreakable grasp, my back plastered tightly to Booker’s front. It took me a minute to figure out what woke me up. We’d both tumbled into an exhausted heap after doing our best to break the bed the night before. After the day we’d had, it was no surprise we fell asleep with the lights on, neither one of us moving, even though the other was naked and within touching distance. Booker didn’t lay out the plan for the following day before passing out, so I assumed we were going to sleep in and tackle the rest of our trip home refreshed and alert. I was super on board with sleeping in. I wasn’t a morning person on the best of days. However, as soon as the streaks of dawn’s first light started to peek through the curtains, my eyes were open and my body was tense and alert for reasons I couldn’t immediately identify.
Booker’s arms tightened around me, squeezing so hard it was right on the edge of being painful. His massive thighs twitched against the backs of mine, and I felt his big body shift in agitation. A quiet murmur whispered somewhere over my head and I felt his fingers flex and dig into my skin. Suddenly his entire body locked up tight and he pushed away from me as if he couldn’t put enough distance between his skin and mine. His dark head started to whip violently back and forth on the pillow and he lifted his hands protectively in front of him, mumbling the words ‘no’ and ‘stop’ over and over again. Even in his sleep, his mouth was twisted into a grimace of pain and there was a scowl morphing his features into something fierce and defensive.
It was no surprise he had nightmares. After everything he told me yesterday, I couldn’t imagine a way for him to ever escape that kind of darkness. It was actually shocking he was as well-adjusted as he was. Sure, he thrived on violence and destruction, but it was targeted and controlled. He didn’t wreak havoc without a reason. He wasn't an unsecured weapon ready to go off at the slightest provocation. No, for as dangerous as he was, he was never a threat to anyone who didn’t deserve his ire or who wasn’t a job. He kept telling me he would never hurt me on purpose, and he hadn’t. Until that night. Once again, I felt like I was catching up and only getting half the story. It was incredibly annoying considering the storyline was my life, and I should be the one driving the plotline forward, not simply moving from scene to scene as someone else narrated my journey.
I reached out tentative fingers to touch the deep furrows between his eyebrows. I made sure to leave enough room to roll away in case he was the type to wake violently from a bad dream. I whispered soothing words and gently tried to stroke the frown from his mouth. His eyes fluttered rapidly behind his eyelids and a low moan ripped out of his heaving chest. The sheets dropped and twisted around his thrashing legs. I let my gaze drift down the length of his beautiful body, absently thinking my sister’s nickname for him was fitting in more ways than one. Brysen called him ‘Gigantor’ because he towered over pretty much anyone and everyone who got close enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. I had irrefutable proof that he was big all over and he knew how to use every single inch.
He quieted down after a few minutes, but his breathing remained labored and he didn’t relax back into a restful slumber. He remained tense, like he was ready to jump out of bed, kick ass, and take names at any second. But now that he was sprawled out on his back, I could see one part of him had woken up and didn’t seem to be as tormented and tortured as the rest of him. In fact, it seemed pretty happy and ready to face whatever the day was going to bring.
I took a deep breath and touched a hesitant finger to the soft, swollen head. It was amazing that something could be so hard and so supple at the same time. He really did feel like an iron rod wrapped in velvet. The corded lines of his abs tensed across his stomach and he let out a sleepy sigh that seemed to take most of his unconscious tension with it as he exhaled. His legs stopped shifting restlessly and his hips lifted a fraction, searching for more contact as I pulled my hand away. I watched, entranced, as his heavy cock seemed to move and thicken under my hungry gaze. The flared head tapped against his rock-hard stomach and he sighed again.
I wiggled out from under the sheets and maneuvered myself so I was hovering over Booker’s strong, sexy thighs. I was careful not to rest my weight on him. I didn’t want him to wake up too fast, and I didn’t want to startle him on the tail end of the dream he’d been fighting his way through. There was no way I was going to be able to take all of him into my mouth. He was far too well endowed, and I was far too inexperienced when it came to getting a man off with my mouth. Even during my rebellious phase, going down on a guy hadn’t been at the top of my to-do list. It was drilled into my head by my sister that I wasn’t supposed to get on my knees for anyone. That they were supposed to kneel before me, because I was worth it, I was special. Somewhere in the translation of all the assurance that I was meant for bigger better things, it turned into a sex thing in my head. Getting on my knees for any guy made me balk and freak out. I didn't have any of those reservations when it came to Booker. On my knees, bent over backwards, upside down, however he wanted me, I was willing to put myself in any position and let him have his wicked way with me. The open-mindedness was directly tied to the fact I knew Booker would bend for me just as easily. Hell, I wouldn’t even have to ask. He would kneel for me in an instant if he thought that was what I wanted.
I leaned over and gave him a long, wet lick. All the way from the base of his cock to the slit at the top. He moved underneath me, but when I looked up, his eyes were still closed and his arms were loose at his sides. I liked his musky, manly taste. It was heady, rich, and something I wouldn’t soon forget. All that waited for me was pure, unfiltered Booker and I couldn’t get enough.
I wiggled closer so I could wrap my lips around the wide, flared head and worked my mouth down the rigid length. I felt him jerk against my tongue, and suddenly his hands were in my hair as I wrapped my hand around his thick base and started to slide it upwards, meeting my stretched lips somewhere in the middle as I sucked him down and jerked him off.
“Karsen.” His morning rasp was sexy as hell, and all kinds of rough and deep. It sent a shiver up my spine as I rolled my eyes up to look at him.
His eyes were half open, still soft with sleep. The sharpness that usually lurked within them was gone, and so were the hard lines that normally etched his face in his patented don’t-fuck-with-me expression. There was some pink heat in his cheeks, and the dark stubble that covered the lower part of his face added a whole new level of dark, deadly and dangerous. He was so hot. I’d always thought he was the most beautiful man ever, but seeing him relaxed and unguarded like this, he was something else. Something unforgettable.
He was almost handsome. Not quite there, but close. He was too rugged and had way too many hard lessons etched into his skin to be classically handsome. Not that he needed to be something as boring as good looking. There was so much more to him than his outward appearance. It was all those things, like his resilience, his loyalty, his perseverance, his unwavering strength, his fearlessness, and his kindness that pulled me to him in the first place.
I swallowed hard around the massive erection trapped between my lips, using my tongue to work the vein throbbing against it. I tightened my hand and set a steady, relentless pace. Squeezing harder when he grunted and muttered that he needed more. Each time I lowered my head, concentrating on breathing through my nose and working to take more of him in, I got a grunt of appreciation in return. His hands tightened in my hair, not forcing me, just holding me, stroking through the long strands as I made love to him with my mouth.
Eventually his stillness came to an end and he started lifting his hips in time with the rhythm I set. He was achingly careful not to shove his incredible length too far down my throat. I was already fighting the urge to gag, he was so big and taking up so much space, but I sort of loved the violation and the work it took to bring him pleasure. His hands were nowhere near the parts of me that were aching for him, but I was already wet. I could feel the moisture as my thighs rubbed together when I settled more fully on top of him.
“Karsen.” It was something between a question and a plea. He had sweat beaded up at his temples and there were lines of strain from his restraint bracketing his eyes and his mouth. His hands tightened painfully in my hair, tugging the strands as I used the tip of my tongue to play with his leaking slit. A burst of precum slid across my tongue, telling me he was close and waking all my taste buds to the flavor of him.
He groaned and his hips kicked up off the mattress with more force. He immediately apologized and tried to pull away but I wouldn’t let him. Instead, I braced myself and put my hands on his hips, urging him upward, letting him fuck my face the way he’d been fighting not to since he woke up.
“Ahhh . . . I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was thin and there was a desperate shake threaded throughout it.
I swirled my tongue all around his cock, licking him like he was a melting ice cream cone and I didn’t want to miss a single drop. I sat up for a second and used my thumb to rub circles around the tiny v that was funneling shiny precum down the underside of his cock. I loved the way the muscles in his thighs quivered at my touch.
“You won’t. I trust you.” I did. I was as shocked as he looked when the words popped out. He’d done his very best to see to it that the last thing I would ever do is trust him with my heart or my body, but here we were. I was more than willing to put my body in his more than capable hands; my heart was another story. One I wasn’t ready to think about just yet.
I ducked my head and pulled him back into my mouth. I lightly raked my nails up and down the inside of his thighs, feeling the way his big body shook and shuddered as I did so. His cock pulsed in my mouth, spreading moisture across my tongue and along the roof of my mouth. His first thrust was hesitant and controlled. His hands returning to tangle in my hair as he let me set the initial pace.
It wasn’t until I got my hands on that secret, tender place between his legs that he lost all semblance of restraint. As soon as I had his warm, soft sac in my palm, applying the lightest bit of pressure, his hips started to rock off the bed, pushing deeper into my mouth, filling me with what felt like miles and miles of unyielding flesh. He moaned my name, knees bending as I settled between them, doing my best to take everything he had to give. His tip hit the back of my throat and for a second I forgot to breathe. He must have sensed I was struggling because he immediately backed off. It was his effortless consideration that turned me inside out. I moaned loudly around the cock stuffed between my lips and pressed down, letting him know I was good, this was good. I loved being in charge of bringing him pleasure. It was something I’d dreamed of doing long before I knew how potent and powerful it could make a woman feel.
It didn’t take long for me to get my gag reflex under control and to let him push past the resistance in my throat. I swallowed him all the way down and watched in delight as the move had his eyes rolling back in his head. He didn’t last long after that. In a rush, I felt his cock kick and his entire body vibrate as he exploded down the back of my throat, my name tumbling from his lips on a growl. It was a practiced sound, one that made me realize he said my name before when he was on the brink of flying apart. This might be the only time I was in the same room to hear it, but it wasn’t a foreign phrase to him.
It was filthy and so fucking hot that my hands immediately shot to where I was dripping wet between my legs. I was so turned on, I could feel it under my fingers. All it would take was a single stroke of my fingers, a slide across my clit and I would come apart. But I didn’t want that. I was having too much fun drawing out every second of Booker’s pleasure. Our entire relationship circled around him being the one in charge, him being the one who decided how close I could get and how much of himself he would let me have. In this moment, I was the one calling the shots. I was the one in complete control. I owned his body and his pleasure. I was the boss, and the fact he was letting me do with him what I wanted, that he let me handle him while he was pliant and vulnerable under my mouth and hands, did more to settle me and guide me toward the future than four years of college had. I craved this kind of power over him, and over other wild, dangerous things that refused to be tamed.
I released him with a pop, which quickly turned into a startled yelp as strong hands circled my waist and effortlessly lifted me up, dragging me up and over his chest until I was straddling his dark head where it rested on the pillow. Blue-gray eyes blazed up at me, as his calloused hands skated up the outside of my thighs. It was my turn to shiver and shake.
He arched an eyebrow up at me, and nothing but pure, wicked intent showed on his face.
“Hold on.” It was part promise, part threat, and part warning of what was about to come. It was all sex and satisfaction.
I put my hands flat on the wall in front of me and closed my eyes. I felt the first swipe of his tongue as it swept through the damp folds he used his fingers to separate. I was open to his avid gaze and his probing tongue. I felt every swirl and lick rush through my body. My nerves were tingling, and my skin felt like it was a size too small. I quivered where I hovered over him, and mindlessly rode his face as his tongue fucked into me and his hands played all of my most sensitive places. It was sensation overload, making my body hum and my mind numb to everything but pleasure.
When the sharp edge of his teeth dragged over my clit, I was done for. I was already turned on beyond belief from having him in my mouth, so my fuse was already incredibly short. I threw my head back and shouted his name at the ceiling as I came apart under the onslaught of his teeth and tongue. I shuddered as my orgasm worked its way out from the center of my body toward my fingers and toes. There wasn’t a single part of me that didn’t experience a warm rush of satisfaction.
I felt his hands glide over the curve of my ass and the bite of his teeth into the soft skin of my inner thigh. The scrape of his stubble was rough against that sensitive skin and it brought on a whole-body shiver. I was going to have beard burn in some very interesting places. I heard him suck and knew he was marking me in the place only a lover would ever see.
I toppled to the side, arms tossed outward, chest heaving. Booker propped himself up next to me, head resting in his hand as he braced himself on an elbow. His lips touched my cheek.
“Not sure what brought that about, but that was singlehandedly the best wake-up call I’ve ever gotten.” He rubbed his free hand over his naked chest and his eyes widened when he noticed it was morning. “Holy shit. I slept through the night.”
I lifted a hand and rubbed my fingers through the prickly hair covering his face. “You did. You had something chasing you in your sleep early this morning, though. I decided whatever it was couldn’t have you so I needed to save you from whatever hides in your darkness.”
His gaze glinted down at me and a grin hitched up one side of his mouth. “You’re gonna go head to head with all my demons?” He looked away for a second and his eyes were serious when they once again found mine. “I’ve been fighting them all my life and all it’s ever gotten me is a lot of sleepless nights.”
I sighed and moved my hand so I could use my fingers to trace the stern line of his mouth. “Maybe they know you’re coming for them so they’re ready for you. They have no idea I’m on the way. They won’t have time to hide from me.”
He reached out and snagged a piece of hair sticking to my cheek. He rubbed the strands between his fingers and his face softened into an expression I’d never seen him wear before. If I didn't know any better I would say it was adoration.
“If anyone is strong enough to take them on, it's you. They’ve had a lifetime to take hold. I don’t think shaking them loose is going to be easy. Nothing about me will ever be easy.”
I sighed and snuggled into the curve of his body as he pulled me forward. “If they aren't going anywhere, maybe it’s time to stop fighting them and learn to live with them instead. Living in the Point you should know, it’s possible to coexist with the things that feel like they’re going to shred us to pieces.”
He grunted but didn't disagree with me. Instead, his lip brushed the top of my head and he told me he was going to take a shower. Since we were both wide awake, he mumbled something about burning daylight and getting back on the road. I knew he was changing the subject and walking away from the heavy conversation, but I let him go.
I spread out across the bed, mind drifting to the future.
I was used to not knowing where I was going or how I was getting there. Going back to the Point was always my super-secret desire that I wouldn’t share with anyone. Partly because I was worried my sister and Race would be so disappointed in me if I didn’t end up somewhere better, even though they’d both sacrificed so much to turn the city I loved into a place that was safe enough for me to return. I also didn’t want to admit that home was where my heart was; didn’t want to admit it was that because of the man in the next room. It felt like weakness to run back after what he’d done, and I never wanted to show just how deeply his betrayal had scarred.
Now I had so many questions swirling around unanswered. About what really went down that night and how independent I'd really been allowed to be since leaving. I was wondering why going back to the Point suddenly didn't feel like the security blanket it had always been.
No, returning home felt more like returning to the scene of a crime. I needed to go back because I needed answers, and I wanted to see all the impressive changes Booker mentioned. I needed both my sister and Race to come clean with me, because I was starting to see, as supportive as they’d both always been, they also had an agenda. I knew no one ever went against what Race wanted. He was willing to move heaven and Earth to make sure things played out according to his script and his dictates.
I no longer felt like my life was over if I decided not to stay in the Point after the wedding and the reckoning I could feel coming. Booker’s story about his tragic childhood forced me to see the world was a really big place, and the Point no longer needed me. Four years of absence and all that had apparently changed had proven that to me. All the changes the people who loved it had made, all the battles fought and won for a better way of life, they were necessary. But those same kinds of fights needed to be fought in other places. There were so many communities failing and falling into despair because they didn’t have the people in them the Point did.
Saving one crumbling city was all well and good . . . but why couldn’t someone who knew what they were doing save them all?