Metal & Lace (An Opposites Attract Novel Book 1) (19 page)

My hands rush over my scarlet face. Even though I’m the one sitting here butt naked, I’m oddly embarrassed for him. I crack two fingers apart to steal a look-see just as he’s unfastening the buttons of his fly, allowing the band of his briefs to peek out. Placing his hands behind his head, he thrusts his hips forward repeatedly. The motion causes his jeans to fall down around his ankles, his pelvis never stopping its assault, dick flapping around beneath his black boxer briefs.

It’s just too much. I can’t breathe I’m laughing so hard. My hand over my chest, I gasp for air, tears trickling down my cheeks.

“Fucking hell, stop. Please!” I plead, unable to endure anymore.

He smirks and waddles toward me, pants still restraining his legs from moving properly, then falls on top of me laughing.

“Aw, you didn’t think I was sexy?”

I shake my head, giggling. He smiles down at me, placing his mouth over mine with a chuckle. I set my hands on the side of his face, kissing him back. It’s so light and playful.

The song wanes, replaced with another. Slow, sensual, and passionate, something shifts between us, stilling us. He stares down at me with captivated eyes, rendering me breathless. His hand travels up to my face, the rough tips of his fingers barely skimming the sides.

I feel emotionally stripped. My heart, once cracked, chipping away fragment by fragment, feels mended. I’m terrified he can see what’s inside me, in the very thread of who I am…That I love him, soul-claiming, devastating love.

His mouth creeps towards mine until they meet, languidly playing with each other. Our tongues dance and dip. Our lips graze and peck. Our kiss becomes increasingly deeper, needy yet still unhurried. He moves his soft lips over my chin, along my jawline, and down the long line of my neck. My body twists and bends, reaching for his touch. Shifting his body, he cups my breast in his palm, pinching the hardened nipple with callous fingers, answering my pleas.

Cradling him between my thighs, I slide my feet down his calves into his jeans, pushing them off. They fall to the wood floor, creating a loud clank when the metal buckle of his belt makes contact with the hard surface. There’s something incredibly sexy about that sound, a vow of what’s to come.

His hands continue down my torso, slithering over my ribs and stomach, and settle on the indistinct curvature of my hip.

“You feel so good, Lace,” he pants from my neck, his fingers digging into my rear. With a cock as hard as iron, he grinds into my clit, pulling me into him with his coarse hands.

His lips fuel a scorching want in me, urgent and hungry for him, working me over with a tender touch. Overwhelming me, my emotions swell in my chest until I feel my heart might implode on itself.

A hint of his cock teases my opening, lightly prodding it when he moves above me. His mouth shifts to my breast, kissing along the mound beneath the nipple, continuing across the gap between my cleavage. Lifting his face, he looks up at me, a raw feeling I can’t identify glimmers in his eyes, brows knitted.

“Lace, I…” As he attempts to tell me something, his lips tremor. He’s vulnerable.

I fix my hands on his bristly cheeks and draw his mouth up to mine, rocking him with my thighs. He moans against my lips, enclosing his arms about my back, holding me close. Staring into my eyes, he thrusts forward, cock bare, and sinks inside my body until our outlines blur together. With a sharp gasp, my spine seizes and twists, reveling in the sudden fullness of my womb. He burrows himself deep within, stilling for a beat before pumping into me, his piercing stimulating my G-spot repeatedly.

It does make it better.

Our labored breathing syncs.

Simultaneously groaning over and over, our pelvises fuse with each drop of his hips. It doesn’t take long for my body to respond to him, not with his arousal-hazed eyes drilling into mine. Like gasoline, every sluggish plunge of his cock feeds the inferno burning down in my belly. We build together, our lips slackening, hovering inches apart. His cool minty breath enters my mouth with each stressed exhale, quickening until it’s almost a whimper. I watch as his orgasm washes over his face, wrenching it in sweet agony. His hands fly to my thighs, his fingers clawing at the supple flesh. Crying out, I follow, overwhelmed by the sensation of his raw cock draining deep inside me.

As we begin to settle, lying in the cold, damp, sex-scented sheets, he kisses my lips, my face, my neck, blanketing me in heart-trembling warmth. I never knew it could be like this, so beautifully profound.

We lay together, our legs tangled, his fingers tickling along my
spine.

“That was…”

“I know,” I sign out contently, digging my face into his beard and inhaling his manly musk.

He sighs. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What?” I ask, my voice hazy.

He scratches his chin tucked under all that fur on his face, contemplating whether or not to continue. “You’ve been talking in your sleep and you mention someone’s name, a man’s name.” I tense up. “Alec.”

The air is sucked from my lungs, and the blood in my veins feels like ice water. I shut my eyes and burrow my face in his neck further.

“I haven’t talked about him in a long time,” I mumble.

Unknotting our legs, he rolls me onto my back, occupying the space between my legs with his torso. His face level with my tummy, he kisses my belly button then speaks gently against the taut skin, “Who is he, baby?”

I run my fingers through his hair, mussed-up from sex, giving me comfort. “He was my fiancé.”

He glances up at me. “Was?”

“Mm hm. We were going to celebrate our graduation from NYU. He was running late, and I didn’t want to sit inside alone, so I waited for him outside the restaurant. I saw him across the street. He waved at me and stepped into the road... By the time I saw the SUV coming, it was too late. It struck him right in front of me.” The words hurt coming up, like needles. “H-He died a few minutes later in my arms.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Lace, I’m sorry.”

I bow my head. “It was the most devastating moment of my life, watching the man I love leave this earth in the most violent way.” Even now, after six years, the wounds feel painfully fresh. “He was going to propose to me you know.”

“He was?” he says, reaching up and sweeping some hair behind my ear. For someone who doesn’t cuddle and shit, he sure is good at it.

“He had the ring in his pocket. That’s why he was late for our date. He went to pick it up just before. They found it in his coat pocket, the band twisted and cracked.”

He rests his chin on my stomach and kisses just above my womb, his beard hairs tickling the lips of my pussy.

“Can we change the subject?” I suggest, feeling remorseful lying naked with the man I’ve fallen madly for cradled between my legs, while speaking of the one who once held my heart. Alec was everything to me for so long, no one has ever compared to him…until Gunnar. What saddens me even more, is that I may love him more. And I never thought that would be possible.

“Anything you want, baby doll.”

There’s been something I’ve been going over in my head lately, a realization of sorts.
Gunnar Haze is obviously made-up…So, who exactly have I been sleeping with these past few weeks? Who have I fallen madly, stupidly, never-coming-back-from-it in love with?

“What’s your name?” I twist my fingers in his coarse beard.

“Gunnar Ha…”

“No,” I interrupt him, “not your stage name. What’s your
real
name?”

“None of the other girls ever wanted to know, why do you?” He takes my hand from his beard and squeezes it, locking our fingers.

“What can I say? I’m one of kind, baby,” I tease, trying to ease him. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for him to tell me something as basic as a name. “Please tell me.”

He puffs his cheeks and pushes out air between his puckered lips, blowing around the hair about my face. It’s cool and smells of peppermint. “Wyatt Matthews.”

“It’s so…”

“Boring, I know,” he comments, glancing away from me.

With my free hand, I grip a fistful of hair, making him look at me. “Normal, in the best way.”

“I hate it,” he gripes, curling his upper lip.

“Well I like it. It’s nice to see you in a different light.” I rustle his hair, and he laughs. “You aren’t just some unreachable rock star.”

“I’ve always hated it.”

“Did you change it for the band?”

“I did it to leave my past behind.” His hand tightens, crushing my fingers slightly. It hurts, but not nearly as much as the pain on his face.

“What are you running from, Gunn?”

He frowns. “Him.”

“Who him?” I don’t want to push, but I need to know more about him. I have this desperate need in me to understand this man as much as I can with the little time we have left. Even if a part of me hopes he’ll ask me to go with him, deep down I know I shouldn’t have these feelings. In a few days, he’ll be gone, and I’ll be a wreck.

“The man I’m named after, my father,” he answers, freeing my from my depressing thoughts.

Is that why he despises his name so much, because of his dad?

“Why are you running from him?”

“Because he was a fucking sack of shit, that’s why.” He pulls his hand from mine and places it over his face, hiding whatever emotion has overcome him. “It’s the same sad story told a million times before. Dad was a mean drunk, abusive. And my mother was too weak to leave him.”

He sits up on his knees, taking me with him. I straddle his lap, wrapping my arms about his head.  Mimicking my actions, he enfolds his about my waist. His face buried into my chest, I feel hot tears break free, trailing down my torso.

I glance down to his upper back, near his shoulder, where the purple scar tissue sits, taunting me with its insight to his past. I know there’s a heart-wrenching story behind it.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

He pulls away, and I see the tears glimmer on his cheeks. His eyes glassy. He turns his head and wipes them away.

“Yes,” he mumbles, licking his dry lips.

“I want to understand.”

He freezes, keeping his eyes focused out the window, his grip about my back stiffening. After a few moments of silence, he finally stares me in the eye, giving me a vulnerable pleading look.

“When I was fourteen, my mom and dad had gotten into a huge argument.  I was lying in bed upstairs, listening to them just go at each other. My father was a real sonofabitch when he drank, not that he was so much better sober, but when he got booze in him, he was the fucking devil. He would beat my mom until her eyes closed over and her whole face was black and blue. Once, he slammed her to the ground and started kicking her until he broke her leg and three ribs.

“I knew this fight was probably going to end the same way. I could hear her telling him he was a lousy drunk and a no good father and provider. She worked three jobs just to keep the house together while he sat around getting drunk with his buddies all day. Anyway, suddenly, I heard the familiar thud of her hitting the ground and I knew he’d hit her. I’d had enough. I couldn’t stand by and watch him hurt her any longer. So I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, finding her sprawled out on the floor, her cheek already turning blue. I looked at her and then him. All I saw was red. I was out for blood. I screamed and ran at him, ready to pummel him into a bloody mess.

“That’s when he pulled out the gun he was hiding behind him in the waistband of his jeans. He pointed it toward me, but it didn’t stop me. I grabbed onto his wrist and we struggled for a bit. I had the upper hand until he managed to punch me in the throat. I clasped one of my hands over where he’d made contact and he wrenched his wrist from my grip, aimed, and shot me.”

I glimpse down at the scar, feeling like I could just ball up and cry.

“Then he aimed it at my mom’s head and something took over, adrenaline, the instinct to survive, to protect her. I snagged his wrist and yanked the gun from his hand when he wasn’t paying attention, focused on my mom. I pointed it at his chest and pulled the trigger. He dropped to the floor like a bag of rocks, lifeless, eyes open, bleeding out until he was lying in a pool of scarlet.”