CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“You found me, Wisp.”
What a peculiar thing to say.
I wasn’t sure what Derek had meant by it, but it almost sounded like… a declaration.
A declaration of what, exactly? an inner voice demanded, but even inside my own head, I couldn’t say it out loud.
Regardless, the four words caused what felt like a thousand butterflies to spontaneously erupt in my stomach, sprouting wings and flapping them mercilessly against my insides.
The feeling was almost enough to make me forget the fact that Derek was trucking down the driveway, on his way into town and away from me – the result of a mysterious phone call.
Still flustered from having Derek hovering between my legs, eyes darkened with desire, I’d only been able to catch a handful of words of the call from the living room. Derek had soon after confirmed the only information I’d been able to glean from them – that Gemma had been on the other end of the line and that she wanted Derek to come to The Tavern.
I had no idea if it was her idea or Derek’s to have me stay behind, but I didn’t believe his story about buffering tables for a minute.
The silly grin I was hardly even aware I was wearing slipped a little, and my stomach – full of butterflies or not – plunged, sinking to somewhere near my feet.
Being purposely left in the dark, especially when you suspected whatever was being kept from you was important, and maybe even about you, well… to put it bluntly, it sucked.
Almost as if he could sense my plummeting mood, Thane rose from where he’d been sunbathing on the porch the past hour and trotted over to me, licking my hand.
I mustered up a smile for him and scratched behind one of his ears. “You want to come inside and keep me company, boy?” I asked. “I’ll get you a treat.”
Thane barked his affirmative and hurried inside, tail wagging behind him.
I laughed outright at his enthusiasm. “Speaking of treats,” I added, shutting the door behind me, “how do you feel about helping me bake some cookies?”
As far as I could tell, that was the only good thing about Derek leaving me behind; it gave me ample opportunity to act on my plan to drop off more goodies for Abram. This time, I was determined to provoke him into a response.
After fetching Thane a dog biscuit, I settled on the couch with Derek’s laptop. Pulling up Google, I began searching for recipes. Chocolate chip cookies were out because I’d already made chocolate chip muffins. Peanut butter cookies were crossed off the list, too, due to their main ingredient being a common allergen.
In the end, I decided on simple molasses cookies.
After checking to make sure that Derek had all the ingredients the recipe called for, I preheated the oven before getting to work measuring sugar, cracking open eggs – and carefully removing the shells that inevitably ended up in the batter – and whisking the gooey mess that resulted. Then I scooped up said goo and carefully plopped spoonful-sized balls (clumps) of it onto a cookie sheet.
I slid the sheet into the oven, and fifteen minutes later the cookies were done.
They weren’t the best-looking things. Instead of the perfectly rounded morsels in the picture next to the recipe, they looked lumpy and… square-ish.
When I picked one up to try, however, my teeth sunk into a moist, chewy cookie that left a sweet after-taste in my mouth.
Unbelievably pleased, I made a second batch and allowed the cookies to cool before packing up a dozen for Abram – in a slightly larger Tupperware container than before – and leaving the other dozen out on a plate for Derek and me to enjoy later.
Not bothering with a note this time, I grabbed the container and headed for the door.
“Let’s go, Thane!” I called, knowing he would insist on tagging along. “We’re going for a hike.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was high-stepping through the overgrown grass that grew along the river.
I knew the way to where I was going fairly well by then, and it only took me another half-hour to reach the rocks that reminded me so strongly of stepping stones. Just as he had two days ago, Thane whined anxiously when I hoisted up my shorts and stepped into the water. Making sure to hurry, I waded across the river and set down the container at the bottom of the same tree as before. Satisfied with its placement, I returned to Thane.
A little worried that Derek would get back to the cabin before I did – after all, it had taken me an hour to bake the cookies, and nearly another hour to deliver them – I made sure to keep a brisk pace as I hiked back. My forehead was slick with perspiration by the time I broke the tree line.
It turned out, though, that I needn’t have rushed.
Derek’s beat-up truck was still missing from the driveway.
Satisfied that I had beaten him back, I glanced at the clock when I walked in the cabin – 4:52 – before grabbing a fresh change of clothes – shorts and a tank top – and a towel as I headed to the bathroom, intent on a shower.
I stripped and stepped into the tub, the cold porcelain causing a shiver to sweep through me before I cranked on the water. Warm spray erupted from the showerhead and I stood under it, letting the water massage my muscles and wipe away the caked on sweat before grabbing the bar of soap sitting on one of the shower’s built-in shelves and beginning to scrub myself down. I also took ten minutes to wash my hair before shutting off the water and stepping out of the tub.
I dried myself off with the towel before using it to wipe away the condensation that had gathered on the mirror.
Catching sight of my reflection, I took a minute to stare at the girl standing there – at me.
I had slowly been growing more comfortable in my own skin over the past few weeks, and I’d committed to memory the delicate features of my face, determined to never forget them again – the flushed cheeks, freckled nose, and dark eyes.
I remembered how I’d felt that night nearly three weeks ago when I’d woken up in Derek’s cabin without any idea of who I was. How unnerved and frightened I’d been. I wasn’t anymore. Instead, I felt content. Happy.
Snorting and shaking my head at the inane direction my thoughts had taken, I quickly dressed before brushing the snarls out of my hair. (I’d thrown out the pink-handled comb I’d found stashed away in one of the vanity’s drawers nearly two weeks ago.)
Satisfied that my dark locks were tangle-free, I exited the bathroom and the adjoining bedroom, taking note of the time – 5:23 – as I stepped back into the living room.
Since Derek was still absent, I busied myself with washing the dishes I’d dirtied while baking the molasses cookies for Abram.
It was nearly six – 5:49 – by the time I was finished, and figuring that Derek wouldn’t be back in time to cook anything, I heated up some leftovers from yesterday’s supper – chicken and rice (the poultry was bought from the grocery store despite Derek’s almost daily threats against his hens) – before settling in to eat. (I handed Thane a scrap of chicken here and there since Derek wasn’t around to scold me for it.)
By the time I was done eating, it was 6:13. After rinsing my plate and setting it in the dishwasher, I stood in the kitchen… at a total loss of what to do with myself.
I don’t think I truly realized how dependent I was on Derek until that moment. I’d grown so used to him being around all of the time that now that he wasn’t, I felt… lost.
It didn’t help that despite the steady thumping of Thane’s tail against the hardwood floor, the cabin was almost eerily quiet. Sure, Derek wasn’t the most verbose person in the world, but his presence – domineering and soothing all at once – somehow filled a room, anyway.
My limbs buzzed with restless energy. (And Derek had been worried I’d get bored at The Tavern. Right.)
Remembering how Derek had said he was going to teach me how to make apple pie later in the week, I decided that heading outside to pick a few dozen of the crisp, red fruit would prove an ample distraction.
(On the eastern side of Derek’s yard, not ten yards from the garden, both apple and pear trees grew. Derek didn’t often pick the fruit, choosing instead to let the apples and pears fall to the ground and feed the wildlife – something about attracting more animals to his traps.)
Unfortunately, picking and washing the apples took me a total of ten minutes.
I glared at the time – 6:23 – before sighing and deciding to take out Derek’s laptop. In an effort to forget how very, very alone I was without Derek – not just at the cabin, but anywhere – I pulled up YouTube and began making a playlist of as many uplifting songs as I could find.
By the time 7:00 rolled around, though, and Derek still hadn’t returned, a tendril of worry had taken root at the bottom of my belly that no amount of Billie Joel or Jon Bon Jovi could touch.
To distract myself from the horrifying scenarios flashing through my mind – Derek getting in a head-on collision, body bloody and slumped over the stirring wheel of his truck, a fight breaking out at The Tavern, somebody pulling out a gun, and Derek getting hit by a stray bullet – I abandoned YouTube in favor of Solitaire.
I couldn't help but think how very fitting it was.
7:47
I stress ate three cookies.
8:34
I swayed back and forth on the porch swing, the sound of cicadas buzzing loudly in my ears.
Derek still wasn’t home, and my stomach was a swirling mess of anxiety.
I’d ventured outside nearly a half-hour ago, hoping the sunshine and fresh air would help quell my rising apprehension, but already the sun was setting and the sky slowly darkening.
Almost like he could sense my distress, Thane whimpered from where he lay next to me on the swing, his head in my lap.
I smoothed down the coarse fur between his ears. “Don’t worry, boy,” I said, injecting as much sincerity into my voice as I could muster, “I’m sure Derek’s fine.”
I wished I could believe it.
9:02
My worry was slowly transforming into anger. The feeling burned bright and uncomfortable in my chest as I was forced to consider the very real possibility that nothing was keeping Derek away but Derek himself.
I thought of what he might have been doing while I sat there, worrying over his safety. I was no longer picturing car accidents or shoot-outs. Instead, I imagined him knocking back beers and laughing with Gemma, maybe even sweet-talking Blair.
Doing other things with the busty blonde.
Things like what we had almost done. I remembered the way Derek had buried his nose into the hollow of my clavicle, how he had tongued my hipbone.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t taken me with him.
Furious tears filled my eyes, and I pressed my palms as hard as I could into the sockets. (Until I saw stars – until the tears in my eyes were gone.)
10:21
I was no longer angry.
Like a flash fire, my fury had burned fast and hot inside me, but had dissipated just as quickly, smothered by my original worry and the knowledge I had, deep down, that Derek would never do any of the things I’d been picturing.
In its wake, however, it left exhaustion.
Sleep tugged at my eyes, and as much as I longed for Derek to meander up the driveway in his truck and abate my worry, I was sensible enough to know that no amount of me willing that to happen would make it come to pass.
Accepting that nothing short of hiking the five miles to The Tavern would ease my concern – and that simply wasn’t something I was willing to do in the dark of night – I sighed and finally abandoned my post on the porch swing. I went back inside, grabbing a pillow and the quilt from Derek’s bed before curling up on the couch, intent on at least trying to rest.
Thane settled on the floor beneath me.
Despite my best efforts, however, I couldn’t stop my ears from straining for the familiar rumble of Derek’s truck, and sleep proved elusive.
11:38
I woke with a start, my head still fuzzy with lethargy.
Darkness surrounded me, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was (lying on Derek’s couch in his cabin), and that I was (regrettably, perilously) alone.
I wasn’t sure what it was that had roused me, and I rubbed my eyes in an effort to help them adjust to the lack of light. But when I glanced around a moment later, I didn’t see any suspicious shadows, and no noise met my ears besides the crickets chirping outside the cabin.
I huffed and huddled back under the quilt.
It wasn’t until I had closed my eyes and buried my face back into the pillow that I heard it.
Crunch.
Crunch.
My eyes snapped open at the same time my heart skipped a beat in my chest.
The noise… it had sounded oddly like boots on gravel, like… footsteps.
I sat up.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Footsteps that were growing nearer.
But what about Derek’s truck? an alarmed voice pointed out the obvious. You never heard the rumble of his engine or saw the brightness of his headlights – anything that would have woken you (or at least Thane) from sleep.
I stayed perfectly still, going so far as to hold my breath, as I listened for more crunching gravel.
Creak.
I heard the noise even over the loud thumping of my heart. It felt like the organ was stuck in my throat, pounding hard against my larynx as my mind raced with thoughts of who could be outside.
Whoever it was, judging by the sound of wood groaning under his weight, he had made his way onto the porch.
Maybe it’s just an animal, a helpful voice suggested. Or Abram, coming to return the Tupperware and thank you for the cookies.
Or maybe it’s Abram, but he’s here to rip out your throat for trespassing on his land… again, a completely unhelpful voice countered.
But even that didn’t bother me as much as a third possibility. A tall man with ageless features and hair the color of cornstalks flashed through my mind.
Panic, like a tightly coiled rope, squeezed at my chest, my lungs. I felt dizzy, my vision blurring at the edges when I caught sight of Derek’s rifle by the door. It occurred to me to get up and grab it, but in my fear, I remained frozen, arms stiff at my sides.
Creak.
He – for in my panic, I felt more and more certain it was the man from my nightmares (from my memories) – was right outside the door now, and my stomach lurched when the brass knob slowly twisted.
The door opened, and in the entryway, a dark, foreboding figure loomed.
A dark, foreboding figure that I recognized.
“Derek,” I croaked, nearly choking on the relief that flooded me. “It’s you.” The grasp panic had on my lungs slowly loosened until I could breathe again. My fingers, which had tightened unconsciously around the edge of the quilt like it could somehow protect me from whomever I’d thought was on the other side of the door, gradually relaxed.
Derek frowned. “Who else would it be?” he asked as he kicked off his boots.
I blinked, disbelief creeping up my spine.
“Who… w-who else-?” I stuttered, hysteria-tinged anger that I was convinced had disappeared hours earlier making a hasty reappearance. “What do you mean, who else would it be?” I demanded, throwing the blanket off my lap and shooting to my feet. I took two hasty steps towards him. “For all I knew, it could have been anyone creeping around outside! You left me here alone, for hours! I… I was scared,” I admitted, tears springing into my eyes without permission. (I hurriedly blinked them away.) “All kinds of scenarios were running through my mind. I mean, do you even realize that I could have shot yo-?”
I was so caught up in my self-righteous fury that I didn’t even realize Derek was slowly stalking closer to me until he was mere inches away, his hand covering my mouth, stopping me mid-rant. “Shh,” he shushed me, palm hot and calloused against my lips. “Relax, Wisp. I’m sorry, okay?”
I was thrown off guard by the unexpected apology, fighting the urge to lick my lips when he removed his hand from my mouth.
Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest, remnants of anger still lingering despite the oddly forthcoming apology. “You smell like a brewery,” I accused petulantly.
A sardonic smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve had a few beers,” he admitted.
It smelled more like he’d had a couple cases of the amber ale.
He tucked a tendril of hair behind one of my ears, the pads of his fingers lingering on my skin, trailing down my cheek in a strangely tender gesture. “Gemma wouldn’t let me drive, so I walked back.”
Well, that explained the lack of headlights and rumbling truck engine, at least. Except…
“I thought you said that alcohol didn’t affect your kind,” I pointed out.
Derek released a sharp bark of laughter, the noise stark in the quiet of the room, but it was anything but amused. “She doesn’t know that,” he reminded me, reluctantly allowing his hand to drop back down to his side.
“Oh.” I blinked. “Right.” I bit my bottom lip, trying to ignore the way his eyes darted down to my mouth at the action and the warmth that it sparked in my belly. “I was really worried,” I admitted in a tinny whisper.
His green eyes flickered up to meet my brown ones at the confession, a glimmer of surprise flashing in them before he looked away. “Of course you were,” he muttered, gazing unseeingly over my shoulder. “I should have known you would be,” he added in a self-flagellating manner. “Always so fucking sweet and caring.” He dragged his eyes back to mine. “I’m sorry. I… I’m so fucking sorry.”
It sounded like he was apologizing for more than simply being late, and I could feel a frown forming at the corners of my mouth. Before I could ask him about it, though, his hands were suddenly on my arms, fingers curling around my biceps as he dipped his head, burying his nose into the side of my neck and drawing in air. He shuddered when he exhaled. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated miserably.
Trying to ignore the little thrill that automatically shot through me at Derek’s nearness, I hesitantly patted his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I assured. “It’s just… What took you so long? I mean, did you run into someone or something? I don't know… like Blair, maybe?”
Derek jerked backwards as if I’d slapped him.
He stared incredulously before releasing my arms, taking my face into his hands instead, his palms near my chin as his thumbs brushed over the apples of my cheeks. “Listen closely, Wisp,” he instructed somberly. “I don’t give a shit about Blair or any other dumb girl in this town. I care about you. Only you.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “You care about me, too, right?” he asked, sounding suddenly desperate. “You like living out here with me?”
My concern at his bizarre behavior continued to grow, and I couldn't help but think that maybe alcohol affected shifters more than Derek thought. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked instead of answering him. “Why are you acting so strange?”
“Just tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me you like living out here, letting me take care of you. Please.”
I carefully pried his fingers from my face. “Of course I like it out here with you, Derek,” I said, like it should have been obvious. (It was.) “I mean, I know it probably doesn’t mean much considering,” – I gestured vaguely at my head – “but I’m pretty sure this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”
My answer should have effectively squashed whatever emotional upheaval Derek was experiencing, but the stress lines around his eyes didn’t ease and the little dip between his eyebrows deepened.
He moved, a miniscule shake of his head. “You can’t possibly know that.”
I pressed my lips together in an attempt to stave off my welling frustration. “Maybe not up here, I can’t,” I admitted, exasperation leaking into my voice despite my best efforts, “but I know it in here.” I took one of his hands and placed it over my heart, pressing my hand on top of his and interlacing our fingers. “You can hear my heartbeat, right? Feel it, even? You know I’m not lying.”
I couldn’t read Derek’s expression as he stared at our entwined hands, but I watched as his emerald eyes slowly darkened.
His hand twitched under mine.
And then suddenly, and without any warning whatsoever, he lurched forward.
Derek’s mouth crashed so hard into mine that our teeth clinked. One of his hands grasped the back of my neck, holding me in place, while the other clutched at my hip, fingers slipping under the fabric of my tank top and curling around bare skin.
His mouth moved frantically against mine – tasting, taking – like his very life depended on how dizzy he could make me with his lips and tongue alone.
Right when I thought I might pass out from lack of air (or more likely, overwhelming desire), he tore his mouth from mine, only to immediately reattach it to my neck.
I desperately tried to catch my breath, my chest heaving, as he tongued my pulse and nipped playfully at the underside of my jaw. “Derek,” I half-whimpered, half-moaned his name.
“Yeah?” he asked, breath hot against my skin.
I swallowed, managing to gather my bearings enough to force my mouth to work, “W-what are you doing?”
“What does it feel like I’m doing?”
“K-kissing me,” I answered, hating how shaky my voice sounded. “But…”
“But what?” he asked, dragging his lips against my skin. “Do you want me to stop?”
I tried to remind myself of the way he’d been acting just moments before, his hot-and-cold behavior setting off alarm bells somewhere in the back of my skull. But I could hardly hear them over the sound of my own heart pounding loudly in my ears, or the want slowly infiltrating my senses.
Besides, if I was completely honest with myself…
“No,” I admitted, the hushed word barely audible to even my own ears.
But Derek heard it.
“Then let me do this,” he entreated, his mouth at my ear now, teeth running along its delicate shell. “Just… just let me love you.”
My chest tightened when the “l-word” escaped his mouth, and even though I knew he didn’t mean it like that, I felt a similar sentiment ballooning inside me. I was helpless to deny him, and couldn’t think of a good reason to say “no” when I wanted it so badly myself.
“Okay,” I managed to rasp. “Okay.”
So I let him kiss me, and suck at my skin. I let him use his lips, and tongue, and teeth on me until I felt light-headed and overwhelmed – by Derek’s scent, his touch, his fervor.
Almost as if he could sense the way I was unraveling on the inside – my wobbly knees barely holding me upright – he hoisted me up by the back of my legs, fingers squeezing the underside of my thighs as they automatically wrapped around his waist.
I wasn’t prepared for the shock of pleasure to shoot up my spine when he rolled his hips into mine, the length of him pressing into me right there.
“Der-ek!” I cried, my voice breaking on his name.
Derek groaned, the noise low and guttural. “I know, honey, I know,” he assured. “Hold on.”
He walked us across the room before shouldering open the bedroom door.
He set me carefully on the edge of the bed before his hands went to the bottom of his shirt and he tugged it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the floor.
Even in the dark, I could make out the outline of Derek’s rippling muscles, the hard lines and dips of his arms and shoulders, his chest, and down further still, where a little trail of hair disappeared into the waistband of his pants.
My entire body warmed at the sight, and I tried not to swallow my tongue, which felt suddenly too large for my mouth.
I could look at him forever.
Derek didn’t even tease me about the way I was gaping. He was too busy moving me further back on the bed and urging me to rest my head against the pillows.
When his hands curled around the bottom of my tank top, something finally clicked in my brain. I realized that he intended to pull my shirt off, too.
I sat up, immediately grabbing his wrists.
Derek froze, his eyes zeroing in on mine. “What’s wrong?” he rasped.
I pressed my lips together. “I… It’s just… I’m not wearing a bra,” I whispered, the words spilling out of my mouth like some lurid confession.
Which was silly, considering I was pretty sure we were about to have sex. (It kind of implied nudity.) Still, some deeply ingrained sense of modesty had me hesitating.
Derek, for his part, didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. He just brushed his thumb over the tiny slip of skin that was exposed between my tank top and shorts. “Won’t you let me see you, sweet girl?”
My belly tightened at the warmth in his voice. “I… w-well, I mean… okay,” I managed to spit out. “Just… just let me,” I said.
Derek allowed me to push his hands away, resting them on his thighs as I played with the bottom hem of my tank top.
Squeezing my eyes shut before I lost my nerve, I yanked the top off over my head and quickly laid back down.
For a moment, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Unnerved by his lack of response, I hesitantly opened my eyes and peeked up at Derek.
I needn’t have concerned myself. Derek didn’t look dismayed in the least. Instead, his eyes were so dark they were almost black as he drunk me in.
“You’re gorgeous,” he muttered, the trace of awe in his voice causing something inside me to preen. He slowly slinked his hands up my sides until they were lightly cupping the sides of my breasts.
Then a calloused thumb brushed over one of my nipples, the rosy bud immediately pebbling at the touch, and I lost my ability to breathe.
Derek gave me no time to adjust to the sensation, immediately ducking down to suck the nub into his mouth. At the same time, he rolled my other nipple between his fingers until it formed a tiny pink peak.
I was a quivering mess, barely managing to whimper a protest when he released my nipple with a wet pop a minute later.
I didn’t have time to feel disappointed, though, because the next thing I knew, Derek was dragging his mouth down my stomach, his lips leaving a searing trail of burning skin in their wake. He didn’t stop until he reached my shorts.
“Can I?” he asked, barely lifting his mouth off of me enough to force out the question.
The sense of déjà vu was strong.
I hesitated only a moment before offering a jerky nod, and he pulled my shorts and underwear down my legs, ripping them off in one go.
Derek urged my thighs to separate at the same time I fought the impulse to snap them together. Taking a deep breath, I managed to force my knees to fall apart.
I felt incredibly vulnerable with the most intimate part of my body so wantonly on display, especially with the unabashed way Derek stared. His eyes were so dark now that I no longer knew where the pupils began and the irises ended, and they were fixed on me, right there.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “So fucking pink and pretty.”
He leaned over to press a kiss to my inner thigh, and I gasped when I felt his stubble brush up against me.
Derek groaned before reluctantly backing away, glancing up at me with hooded eyes. “You want me to fill you up, honey?” he asked.
I felt dizzy at the sinful words, but I had enough cognizance left in me to nod.
I felt a finger run down my slit before carefully sinking into me. Another joined it a moment later, and I felt an unexpected flare of pain. I had no time to dwell on it, though, before Derek was suddenly right there, sucking the little nub that served as the pleasure center of my body into his mouth.
I keened.
He moaned around me. “Fuck, you taste good. You feel good.” His fingers twisted inside me. “I need you to be mine.”
I didn't know which was driving me crazier: Derek’s fingers or his words. “You want that, too, don’t you, Wisp? To be mine?”
“Derek,” I sobbed his name, feeling like I was falling apart at the seams.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“I-I…I want…” I sputtered.
“What do you want, honey?”
“I… I w-want to be yours.”
“Fuck!” A string of cuss words catapulted out of Derek’s mouth. “You are mine,” he said, his fingers disappearing from inside me before he sat up enough to pull off his belt and kick his pants and underwear down his legs.
I felt a jolt of shock strong enough to permeate the heady arousal clouding my senses when I saw it – him.
I’d seen Derek naked before, of course – that night in the woods when he’d shifted, for one – but it hadn’t been anything like this.
Derek was hard, his erection flushed an angry purple and standing proudly at attention. It was also very, very big.
“You’re h-huge,” I stammered.
Derek raised his eyebrows, and I realized a second too late that it probably wasn’t good etiquette to comment on the size of your partner. A wild flush exploded across my cheeks.
“I mean, it’s perfect!” I rushed to clarify, pushing myself into a sitting position. “You’re perfect. It’s just, I’m not a big person, and that… you… will it even fit?” I asked, a tinge of hysteria leaking into my voice as I stared at the erection nestled snuggly against Derek’s taut stomach.
The man snorted. “It’ll fit,” he assured me, cupping my chin and pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “And if it hurts, just tell me, and I’ll stop, okay?”
I swallowed. “Okay,” I agreed thickly, allowing Derek to lower me back down onto the bed. He urged me to wrap my legs around his waist, and I stiffened when I felt the head of his erection, already leaking, nudge against me.
Almost like he could sense my rising anxiety, Derek ran one of his hands up and down my thigh in a soothing motion while the other lined himself up with where his fingers had been only a few minutes before.
“You know why I call you honey?” he asked, rubbing his nose along my jaw until it came to rest in the little groove below my ear.
“W-why?” I asked, knowing he was trying to distract me – from my nerves, from the feeling of his blunt head pressing against me right there – but also very willing to let him.
“Because that’s what you smell like. Taste like. A nectar so fucking sweet that it penetrates my senses, my ability to form reasonable thought, until all I can think of is this – you.”
And then, slowly, painstakingly, he began pushing himself in.
The action sent sparks of pain shooting up my spine, and my entire body tensed.
I dug my teeth hard into my bottom lip in an effort to distract myself, but nothing could divert my attention from the burning sensation of my body stretching, straining to accommodate the sheer size of him.
Just when I thought I was on the verge of breaking, he stopped.
He was in.
Derek was inside me.
And even though it was uncomfortable, the realization sent a pang of giddiness so strong through me that a smile pulled unbidden at my mouth.
“You okay?” Derek asked from where he had buried his face into my shoulder. He sounded strained – like he was holding himself back from pulling out and plunging back into me.
The visual that accompanied that thought made goosebumps break out across my skin.
“I… yes, I’m okay, just… give me a minute.”
Derek groaned, but obeyed, holding himself perfectly still as I willed my body to relax.
And miraculously, I began to adjust to the feeling of having Derek inside me. When I finally felt like the slightest movement wouldn’t split me in two, I hesitantly shifted my hips, experimentally rocking them against his.
Derek stiffened, the hands he was using to prop himself up immediately shooting to my waist, holding me in place. “Fuck, honey,” he murmured, fingers digging into my skin. “You’ve got to warn me.”
“I’m sor-ry!” I tried to say, but ended up squealing half-way through when Derek abruptly pulled half-way out before diving back into me.
It still burned – but it was a good burn, and the moan that escaped my mouth was hardly a protest when he did it again.
Derek’s mouth attacked my neck, where he alternately sucked at my collar bone and whispered sweet nothings into my ear – “so fucking perfect”, “never letting you go”, and “mine”.
All the while his hips never stopped moving against mine.
The friction slowly building between us, along with the ministrations of his mouth on my neck, was causing a pressure I’d never felt before to build in my belly. I knew I was on the cusp of something momentous, and I dug my heels into the muscles of his back, urging him on.
“Derek,” I whined, uncertain what I was asking for.
Like he knew what I needed, a moment later his thumb was right there, pressing hard against the sensitive bud above where he filled me, and I was taken over the edge. I came apart, a strangled cry escaping my lips as a rush of white hot pleasure shot through me.
I could feel myself involuntarily clenching down around him, and Derek’s entire body shuddered. His grip on me tightened, and he thrust into me once, twice, before a half-shout, half-roar ripped from him.
The sound caused my toes to curl, and I felt myself black out for half a second.
When I came to a moment later, Derek had collapsed on top of me.
He rolled to the side after a few seconds, so he was no longer crushing me, but his arms remained wrapped loosely around my waist, and his… well, he was still inside me.
I lay my head on his chest, trying to catch my breath.
“Are you alright?” Derek asked quietly.
“I… I think so.”
It was the truth.
I was sore, and maybe a little swollen between my legs, but I felt sated and relaxed in a way I never had before.
“Good,” Derek muttered, pressing a kiss to my clammy forehead. “Good,” he repeated, tightening his arms around me. “I just… I need to stay inside you for a little longer, okay? And hold you. Just for a while.”
Derek sounded almost… shy about the request.
A smile played at my mouth, and I peeked up at him. “Okay,” I agreed, mustering up enough energy to card my fingers through his hair. “It feels good,” I added in an attempt to appease him. “You feel good. We should do this again sometime. All the time, even. Like, every day.”
I was vaguely aware that I was rambling, but I was too tired (warm, content) to even try to stop.
Derek didn’t seem to mind, at any rate. His arms just tightened around me as I blathered.
“Is that a yes?” I asked when he didn’t respond.
Derek snorted, running his fingers up and down my spine in a soothing motion. “Sleep, Wisp,” he ordered like he knew my inability to shut up was a side effect of the fatigue hanging over me.
He wasn’t wrong. (Although the sex we’d just had probably contributed to it as well.)
I sighed and laid my head back down, trying to fight it for a while. After my eyes had attempted to flutter shut three times in as many minutes, however, I gave in to the Sandman’s spell, and cocooned in the warmth and safety of Derek’s arms, I allowed myself to fall asleep.