Falcon

 

Falcon watched from the doorway as Bridgette parked in the drive. He was relieved to see she’d kept her word and come straight back to his place.

 

None of his guys had called him yet to tell him anything new. The guy who’d attacked Bridgette may have been a low-level hack, but he was tougher than expected when it came to their interrogation. He suspected it was because of his fear of Martin more than his mental willpower. Falcon had left, knowing Shark and the others could more than handle themselves.

 

He was still trying to cool his head. He’d kept it together well enough. He hadn’t gone off on Bridgette again. He’d seen she was close to falling apart and contained himself. But he still felt on edge.

 

The strong emotion he’d felt seeing her in danger that morning hadn’t stopped simmering in him. It was something between terror and rage—terror that he would lose her somehow, rage that she hadn’t listened to him, pain that she had to go through this, that she still didn’t trust him, that he didn’t know where the hell this was going after they took care of Martin.

 

He was a mess. Agitated, keyed up. He just wanted her in the damn house, safe and sound.

 

She took her sweet time getting out of the car and grabbing the new bag she’d packed. Not that Martin knew where he was staying and was about to do a drive-by or anything. Still, he knew he’d feel much better once she was inside and settled down with him for the rest of the night.

 

Bridgette met him at the door. She looked sick to her stomach still. Her pale face was drawn, her shoulders sunken beneath some unseen weight. He knew she was still worrying about her damned business. He couldn’t blame her, but still, he wished he could say something to her that would make her see everything was going to be all right. He wanted her to believe that he wasn’t going to knock her down and leave again.

 

Her words earlier had stung more than he’d thought possible. After he’d saved her twice, after he’d come running to her rescue, she still didn’t believe he would or could take care of her. But shit, he’d prove her wrong.

 

Falcon held the door open for her, and she trudged inside, her reluctance evident in every step. “Your kid doing all right?”

 

He followed Bridgette into the back bedroom, where she put her bag down on the bed. She took a moment to respond. “She’s fine,” she replied curtly.

 

“There’s room here—“

 

“I don’t want her around here. It’s dangerous enough for me. You said that yourself.”

 

Falcon breathed a frustrated sigh. “Right.” He waited for a moment, watching as she rummaged through her bag, looking for something. “How are you holding up?”

 

She took an even longer time to reply. He watched silently from the doorframe a she pulled out a folded piece of clothing, then proceeded to unbutton her shirt.

 

Falcon watched, transfixed, as she slowly revealed her bare shoulders, then the curves of her back, a she pulled off her button-down shirt. Even the sight of her bra straps was enough to get his blood pumping. Memories of how her soft body had felt under his hands the night before flooded into his mind. God, he wanted to finish what he’d started with her.

 

She kept her back to him, denying him the view of her breasts, as she unhooked her bra and pulled a loose t-shirt over her head.

 

Falcon couldn’t help himself. He moved in behind her, placing his hands gently on her hips and dipping down to press a kiss against her neck. He was sure she’d pull away, but he wanted at least a taste of her.

 

To his surprise, she didn’t move away. She didn’t even tense. He buried himself in the tender space at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and she relaxed into it.

 

She turned around, breaking away from his lips, her eyes filled with indecision. He could see desire burning in her eyes again—the same desire he felt coursing through him. She wanted him, but something was holding her back.

 

He slipped his hands up her shirt and stroked slowly down her sensitive sides, watching as she shuddered pleasurably beneath his touch.

 

“Kyle,” she murmured, “we can’t. I can’t do this.”

 

“Why not?” he demanded. “Why the hell not?”

 

“For the same reasons I told you last night. I have responsibilities—“

 

“Do you want this?”

 

Bridgette stared him straight in the eye, fierce and unyielding. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s best for me and my daughter—“

 

“That’s not what I asked,” Falcon growled. “I asked you if you want this.”

 

Bridgette closed her eyes. “Yes,” she told him. “But I can’t be with you—“

 

“Fuck being with me,” Falcon cut her off. “Fuck what this means. I want you, Bridge, however I can have you. I told you I never wanted to leave. I told you I would have come back the second I thought it was safe. There was no one else. No one. For six fucking years. I didn’t forget about you, and I sure as hell didn’t move on. And if you haven’t either, I’m not going to walk away. I’ll be whatever you need me to be right now. You don’t want me around your kid or your baby daddy? You don’t think I’m good for your girl? Fine, I’ll keep my distance. I’ll wait until I can prove you wrong. But if we both want this, Christ, Bridge, what’s the point in saying no?”

 

“You just want some action—“

 

“Shit, with you it’s never just some action. Don’t you get that?”

 

She stared at him, trembling. He could see that she was still torn, caught between desire and doing what she felt was the right thing.

 

“When I say I want you, I don’t mean I want your body. You’re hot as fuck, baby, but that’s not it. I want you so bad because it’s you. That’s how it always was, and that’s how it is now.”

 

That seemed to be enough for her. She surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and stretching up to meet his mouth, coaxing it open with her lips. Falcon responded by reaching down beneath her thigh and hitching her leg up around his body, crushing her against him. His other hand crawled up her bare back, sweeping over her silky skin, and he reveled in the feeling of having her body back in his hands.

 

His tongue tangled with hers for a few moments, meeting her coy darting with deep, possessive strokes. When she drew back, he let her leg down and backed her slowly toward the bed.

 

Her eyes met his for a brief moment, glimmering with what he read as playfulness. She stripped the t-shirt off, baring her front to him. His eyes fell immediately to her pert breasts and the two rosy little buds that were hardening beneath his gaze. He moved his hands up to them, weighting them in his palms. He circled each of his thumbs around her areolas. She tilted her head back and thrust her chest forward into his touch, letting loose a breathy sigh.

 

Her hands moved to the front of his jeans, undoing the button and zipping them down with surprising ease. She tugged them down, pulling away from his fondling as she dipped down to her knees. She pulled his boxers down, too, freeing the rock-hard erection that had been straining almost painfully against his pants.

 

He wasn’t prepared for the sensation of her tongue swiping quickly over his tip. He felt his cock twitch in response. Bridgette continued to tease him, her sweet mouth lavishing kisses on that sensitive spot, driving him mad. His balls tightened painfully as she worked him over, her mouth occasionally moving down to lick up the length of his shaft before moving up to suck him back into her hot mouth. She moved a hand up to cup his balls. He almost lost it when he felt her warm fingers close around him.

 

“Shit, Bridge,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “Slow down a little.”

 

He glanced down just in time to see her bobbing head look up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Am I going too fast for you?”

 

Fuck, even her eyes turned him on. He was so close to coming already. If he didn’t want to end this too soon, he was going to have to get that beautifully wicked mouth away from him.

 

Falcon grabbed her by the wrists and hauled her up to the bed, knocking her bag out of the way as he went. She let him, a devilish smile still playing at the corners of her lips. God, there were so many things he wanted to do to her.

 

He unbuttoned her jeans. She lifted her hips off the bed, arching back onto her shoulder blades, and he slid them off of her, leaving her in just her lacy black panties. She lay with her back on the bed, her arms spread wide above her head. His position kneeling in front of her gave him perfect access to her pussy.

 

Falcon pushed her knees apart, planting a kiss on each, then dove into the apex of her thighs, pressing his face against the lacy material that covered her slit. He inhaled deeply, relishing the musky scent of her.

 

He heard Bridgette giggle. Her hips moved a little with the force of her laughter. He lifted his head so he could fix her with a questioning stare.

 

“The hell is so funny?”

 

“You, you pervert,” she teased him. “You always loved sniffing my panties.”

 

He grinned at her crookedly. “You smell good.” He tugged her lacy panties down. She lifted her hips again, still smiling at him. “Not as good as you taste, though.”

 

Before she could respond, he delved back between her thighs, licking up the length of her slit in one long, slow stroke. He felt her tense beneath him and he smiled into her, loving the way he remembered her body. She tasted like musky honey, sweet and erotic as hell. He lapped along her puffy labia, tracing her folds and searching for more of her flavor.

 

He felt her thighs close around him, urging him on. As he continued teasing her, savoring the experience of exploring that intimate space, he felt her growing more and more restless beneath him. She squirmed, her hips bucking a little against him.

 

Fuck, even the sight of her getting hot was making him painfully hard again. He pulled back, which brought a disappointed moan out of her.

 

He fumbled around for his jeans, knowing he kept an extra condom in his wallet.

 

“What are you doing?” Bridgette demanded, her voice cracking with need. “Is this payback for last night?”

 

“Give me a second,” Falcon grumbled, digging through his wallet. He found the little package he was looking for. He tore it open and hastily unrolled it down the length of his shaft.

 

Bridgette sat up on the bed, trying to see what was going on. “You need some help?”

 

Falcon stood back up, raising an eyebrow at her. “Did I tell you to get up?”

 

“I didn’t know I needed your permission.”

 

Falcon pushed her gently back onto the bed, snaring her wrists and pinning them high above her head. Her legs parted automatically, spreading her glistening folds wide for him. Falcon lined himself up at her entrance, circling his tip around her. “You want this, baby?” he murmured.

 

Her green eyes scorched through him. The answer was clear there. But he wanted to hear her say it.

 

“Yes,” she groaned. “Don’t play this fucking game.”

 

Falcon pushed into her a little, moving in slow, shallow thrusts that he knew wouldn’t satisfy her. “What game? If you need something, just tell me.”

 

Shit, she felt so good. Hot and tight. He could feel her clenching around him, trying to pull him in deeper. It felt cruel to deny her, but he loved drawing this out, dancing on that painful edge between overwhelming animal need and pure ecstasy.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he heard her mutter, the words soft and strained.

 

Why the hell was her frustration so delicious? God, he loved egging her on. He loved the way she pushed back, the way she didn’t take shit from anyone, even from him. It was so fucking beautiful.

 

“Kyle, for the love of God, stop torturing me.”

 

“How?” he pressed. “Just tell me what you need.”

 

“You,” she hissed as he slid the tip of his cock up to her clit. He stroked against it, light enough to stimulate but not satisfy. “Inside me. Now.”

 

“Whatever the lady wants,” he grunted, and he obliged, pushing deep into her in one long, powerful thrust. She fit over him so perfectly, sheathing him like she’d been made for him, or him for her. He withdrew slowly against the force of her contracting muscles, relishing the tightness and the way her body milked his. He could feel the pulsing of her body around him when he was buried so deep in her.

 

He thrust harder, faster, working in tandem with the small, natural movements of her hips. He continued to build the tempo as he got closer and closer to his own climax, pushing into her hard and fast. She was wet, and moving in her was like sliding through hot butter.

 

He knew she was close, too. Her wrists strained against his. Her eyes had half-closed and taken on a dazed, dreamy look that he remembered all too well. He freed one of her wrists and dropped a hand down to massage her clit along with his thrusting, knowing the extra stimulation would push her over the edge.

 

It didn’t take long. She moaned softly, her lips just barely parting, and she spasmed hard around him, the intensity of her orgasm rocking through her into him and carrying him to his own climax. He came harder than he had in years. The force of the sensation seemed to temporarily dislodge him from reality and push him into a place where all he could feel was Bridgette—her body melding into his, his body claiming hers.

 

He came down slowly, the sound of blood rushing in his ears subsiding to his own panting breaths and the gentle rise and fall of her breasts beneath him.

 

She smiled blearily up at him. She was still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, he knew. He could feel the small contractions around his cock.

 

Falcon withdrew from her and carefully slipped the condom off. When he’d disposed of it, he returned to the bed, dropping down beside her in the same position that she was in, back against the bed and feet against the floor.

 

Bridgette turned over lazily and curled against him, nestling against his shoulder as he draped an arm over her.

 

Falcon closed his eyes. “I missed this,” he told her.

 

“Me too,” she mumbled into him.

 

He didn’t miss the uncertainty in her voice. She’d always been easy to read. She was usually more guarded around everyone else, but when they were alone, she wore everything on her sleeve.

 

“What is it?”

 

Bridgette didn’t answer right away. After a few moments of silence, she replied, “It’s nothing.”

 

Falcon heaved a sigh of frustration. “You know I hate that shit. You don’t have to lie to me. What’s wrong?”

 

Bridgette turned back onto her back, though she didn’t entirely withdraw from him. “I almost died today. And just a few days ago you were still out of my life. It’s just…I’m afraid that all this is me making bad decisions because I don’t know what the hell is going on in my life. This was good, Kyle, but it’s like a night of binge drinking, you know? I’m afraid the hangover is still coming.” She shook her head slowly to herself. “I don’t know what any of this means. For me, for us—“

 

“I told you not to worry about that. I meant it. We’ll figure all this shit out later. I don’t want to hurt you, Bridge, not again. And I’m not going to.”

 

She didn’t answer.

 

And he knew what that meant. She didn’t believe him. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could say to change her mind.

 

He pulled his arm out from beneath her, stood up, and started pulling his boxers on.

 

“Where are you going?” she asked from the bed.

 

“I need a smoke.” Falcon pulled his jeans on and moved over to the dresser drawer, searching for his pack of cigarettes.

 

“Those things will give you cancer.”

 

“Everything gives you cancer,” he retorted. He fished out his pack of Marlboros and a lighter and headed for the door.

 

“Those give you a lot of cancer, though.”

 

“Guess I’ll have to die young, then.”

 

He sensed Bridgette rolling her eyes, though he couldn’t see it from the way she was lying on the bed.

 

“Yeah, you always struck me as the James Dean type.”

 

“Who the fuck is James Dean?”

 

“He was in East of Eden.”

 

Falcon stared at her blankly.

 

Bridgette sat up. “Seriously? Rebel Without a Cause? Ringing any bells?”

 

Falcon continued to stare at her.

 

She frowned at him. “You’re making it really hard to mock you, you know. God, I think I even made you watch that movie.”

 

“Guess it wasn’t very good if I don’t remember it.”

 

Bridgette snorted. “It’s a classic. Better than the glorified car chases you think pass as masterpieces.”

 

Falcon pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. “I only appreciate the highest forms of art,” he told her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fill my lungs with some good, wholesome cancer.”

 

“You could do that. Or you could come take a shower with me.” Bridgette stood and rolled her shoulders. The small movement caused her breasts to lift and fall just the slightest. The sight of her, completely naked, was incredibly enticing in spite of the fact that he’d just had her.

 

Falcon took the cigarette back out. “Are you trying to bribe me into quitting?”

 

Bridgette smiled wantonly at him. “Maybe. Is it working?”

 

“What happens if I join you, then come back out and go for my smoke?”

 

Bridgette shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess I shower alone for the rest of the time I’m here.”

 

Falcon grinned at her. “You still know how to manipulate me, huh? Fine. I give in. I know a good offer when I see one.”

 

Bridgette sauntered over to him and pecked him on the cheek. “I’m glad you think I’m better than cancer.”