Rock'n Tapestries (12 page)

I
wanted something, but I didn’t know what.  Then it hit me. I wanted comfort. 
To touch and be touched by another human being.  To be held and stroked and
murmured to and loved. I wanted to be assured that I was still whole and strong
enough to get through the horror that was surely coming in the next couple of
months.  I wanted to share my soul with someone who had seen me from the inside
out and was
on my fucking side.

“Asher,”
I croaked like a frog. “Asher, make love to me.”

He
froze, as I knew he would.  “Jesus Christ, Chelsea.  Are you nuts?”

“No.”
I wanted to feel him inside me.  I was never more certain of anything in my
life. I would deal with the nuclear reaction that choice was sure to bring
about later. But right now…

“Please.”
I pulled myself up to look into his eyes. If I could just make a connection
there, I knew I could make him understand.  I put one hand against his cheek
and felt his heat. “I need you to touch me.  I need to know that I’m still
alive, and I’m still Chelsea Whitaker, and I’m going to be okay.  I want this.
I want
you
…”

He
buried his mouth on mine with a kiss so fierce that I shivered. He
tongue-fucked me mercilessly, groaning into my mouth as he did so.  After a
moment of the most intense sexual heat I’ve ever felt, he broke the kiss.  “Are
you sure about this?  My God, you went through hell last night.  It just feels
like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“I
want
you to take advantage of me.  I want to forget. Please.” It was his turn to
shiver.  His eyes were strangely glassy—he was looking at me but not seeing. 

He
swept me up into his arms in one swift motion.  The next thing I knew, I was on
my back on his bed, his shirt was off, and he was fumbling with his zipper.  I
could see the outline of the monster hard-on that was behind it.  My pussy
muscles clamped down in response and issued forth more wetness.

He
swung over me and straddled my hips then went for my T-shirt. I stopped him. 
“Wait a minute. You’re not…you don’t…what about STDs?  Have you been tested?”

He
sat back and sort of glared at me.  “You don’t think I’m diseased, do you?”

“Well,
how the fuck should I know?  You slept with everything that could nod its head
in agreement when we dated.  Did you wear condoms with all of them?”

He
looked a little angry now.  I was afraid I’d spoiled the mood, but I wasn’t
about to put myself at risk.

“It
wasn’t as many as you think, and yes, I always wore condoms.  I had myself
tested a year ago, and I was clean.  I haven’t been with anyone for a very long
time.  Not since I was tested.” He sighed and ran his hand through his silky
hair.  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I’m sorry you think so poorly of
me.” He planted one foot on the floor and prepared to swing himself off me.

 I
grabbed his arm and caught his gaze.  “No lies this time.”

His
eyes were big and brown and gorgeous, and I saw the truth there. Was I seeing
what I wanted to see? Maybe.  But I’d looked into those eyes enough when he was
lying to know the difference.

“No
lies, baby.”

“Do
you have condoms now?  I don’t want to get pregnant.”

A slight
wave of relief rippled across his face.  “I don’t have any condoms.  I’ll pull
out before I come.”

There
were those damned warning bells again. “You said you had one in your wallet at
Christmas.”

He
turned red. “I threw it away. It was a good thing we didn’t try to use it at
Christmas. The wrapper was all tore up, and the expiration date was two years
ago.  It might have broken...”

I
frowned up at him. Why did he have a condom in his wallet that was that far
past the expiration date? Ah, yes, my Asher was quite the paradox, wasn’t he?

A
thousand thoughts ran through my brain as I gazed up at him.  I was a few days
before my period, so I was probably safe.  We’d mostly used condoms before, but
he’d also pulled out a few times when we didn’t have them. I hadn’t gotten
pregnant. Did I feel like playing Russian roulette?

I
was past the point of no return. I was extremely wet.
I wanted him.
Life
was so short, and mine had almost been extinguished the night before. Common
sense went right out the window, along with any inhibitions I might have had.

“Then
that’s what you need to do, because if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to
die.”

We
both laughed, scattering the awkward moment.  He stood by the side of bed and
stared down at me.

“Get
that T-shirt off or I’m going to rip it off,” he growled.  I love a man who
takes charge of things. I did as I was ordered.  Reaching around me with an
impatient noise, he unsnapped my bra and flung it to the floor.

I’m
fairly well endowed.  My girls quivered as they bounced out of the bra, and I
heard his sharp intake of breath.  “Christ, I never thought to see those
beautiful breasts again.” His voice was hoarse and raw.

I
shimmied out of my jeans and threw them to the floor. His gaze played over me,
lingering on the small neat patch at the junction of my thighs as his mouth
slowly dropped open. I knew that’s where his eyes would stop.  I was so turned
on I wanted to shove both hands down there and get to work on my nub myself. I
resisted the urge.

 “One
of us has too many clothes on, and I’m naked.”  I peered up at him with half a
smile.

“Fuck
if you’re not.”  His gaze met mine as his hands went to his zipper again. 
Slowly, torturously, he pulled it down, so slow it didn’t even make any noise. 
Both hands planted firmly inside the waistband of his Calvin Kleins and his
Levis, he pushed and wiggled his hips until the head of his cock was just
barely visible…and I was the one who inhaled sharply as my gaze darted from his
cloth-covered cock to his eyes and back again.

“Damn
you! I want to
see
you.  Do it!  Take them off!”

He
shoved them to the floor with one quick motion, and there it was.  Large and
hard and more than ready to do some Chelsea lovin’.  It stood proud and rigid
against his washboard abs, and the feeling that swept over me was beyond
description.  Tonight, he was
mine
.

He’d
given me a good looking over; I now returned the favor.  It was more than just
his cock that turned me on. He was that special kind of guy who just knows how
to use the tools he was given. Not only had the motion of the ocean been highly
satisfactory all those years ago, Asher had been a pro with his hands, fingers,
and mouth as well.

I
loved his testicles. They hung there like ripe fruit, halfway to his knees and
full of hot cum for me.  I reached out and cupped them in one gentle hand, and
he jerked as though he’d been electrocuted.  “Holy hell!” He tipped his pelvis
forward, forcing his balls into my hand.  They were so soft, like a horse’s
nose.  I caressed them as he quietly lost his mind.

The
next thing I knew he was on top of me, kissing me hard, claiming my lips as
though he were trying to fuse with my soul.  His hands clutched at my breasts,
kneading them urgently, though he took care to be gentle.  Too bad I didn’t
want gentle.  I wanted to be bruised. Taken.  Claimed. I felt disturbed,
unsettled, as though I had a hurricane raging inside me. I couldn’t put a name
to it, but it was primal, coming from a part of me I had never tapped into
before.

I
could try for the rest of my life and never be able to convey how this man
affected me, inside and out.  His hands on me drained every single rational
thought from my head.  I couldn’t think.  I could only
feel.
  And hot
damn, the things I was feeling…

He
drew himself up to a sitting position again, settling across my pelvis.  “I
don’t even want to touch you, baby girl.  I just want to look down at you like
this for
hours
.”

“I’m
sorry, but that’s not going to work for me.” I ran my hand down one lean,
muscled thigh.  His balls were hot pressed against the slight rise of my
stomach. Asher’s toffee eyes…his whole gorgeous face…were alive with need. He
gave me a look that made my heart pound with anticipation.  His gaze traveled
over my body and burned me— I could almost feel it physically. I never wanted
the moment to end.

He
ran his palms lightly over my nipples then curved his fingers around the
contours of my breasts. He let them linger there for a moment. The expressions
shivering across his face were priceless—the male mind absorbing the wonder of
the female body. Slowly, deliberately, he molded his hands to the arc of my
waist and moved them down to grip my hipbones with tense fingers. His throat
pulsed as he swallowed.  My mouth went dry as I watched him.

His
eyes glistened as his gaze followed his hands down my body. I narrowed my eyes
at him. Were those tears?  “Asher? Is something wrong?”

He
let his breath out in a quivering sigh.  “I forgot how damned beautiful you
were.  I feel like…this sounds so fucking stupid…but I feel like I’m in the
presence of God or something.  I shouldn’t be touching you like this.” He
looked at me. “You should be in a museum.”

I
laughed and reached up to touch his cheek. “Asher, that’s silly.  I’m flattered
that you feel that way, but I’m still just plain old Chelsea, same as I was
before…”

He
shook his head and looked hurt. “You have never been plain old Chelsea…not to
me.  Damn you, I could never get you out of my head. I could never forget about
you.”

I
was too astonished to speak.  This was
so
not Asher.  After a moment,
the lump in my throat subsided a bit.  “I don’t know where this is coming from,
but I want you to make love to me.  I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

“Oh,
I want to.” He laughed and rubbed his palms together.  “I’ve wanted to do this
ever since I carried you into the hospital.  I always wondered what happened to
you. I wanted to come and find you, but I knew you hated me. I didn’t have the
guts to face you. When I found you working at Tapestries, I knew I couldn’t let
you out of my sight again. I want to make love to you.  Will you just let me go
at my own pace?”

My
stomach drew up into a painful knot at his words. I didn’t understand what the
hell he was trying to say, and it wasn’t really a time to ask questions.  I saw
a side of him he hadn’t let me see before—the one that was capable of empathy.
God bless him, he really
did
have feelings. 

I
smiled, trying to reassure him. “Take your time.  I’m not going anywhere.”

“I
wouldn’t let you go even if you wanted to. Tonight, you’re mine.” I felt a
quiver of pleasure.  The balance between us—at least for now—had tipped in my
favor at some point.

Shifting,
he lay down next to me. My eyes fluttered closed as he reached for me. Nothing
had changed. Slow, easy, and soft, classic Asher-style. The hands of a skilled
musician. My thoughts swirled like water going down the drain.  Mindless
pleasure disintegrated me.

Random
words that made no sense skittered around in my skull.  I tried to snatch at
them, thinking they would anchor me to earth and sanity, but nothing was going
to save me now.  I was lifted into the air by a wet mouth on my nipples, his
tongue swirling around tightening flesh. Urgent fingers pushed into my wetness,
brushing across my clit.  I arched my back and shuddered through an orgasm as
two fingers expertly played me.  My hands curled involuntarily, and my
fingernails dug into the smooth muscles of his back as I rose off the bed.

I
dimly wondered how long he was going to torture me like this, then was gripped
by another O.  “Holy shit!” I managed to gasp, “You are so fucking good...”

“I
still know what makes you purr.  Your body remembers me...”

“Shut
up!” I pulled his mouth to mine and devoured him. He tasted and smelled and
felt like everything that had ever mattered to me, and I wanted more.
More.
 
I managed to catch
that
word and focus on it as my tongue glided over
his.

And
then he moved again, one fluid motion, and he was on me and
in
me and
oh
my fucking God, I can’t even think...

I
curved my body to his as he moved inside me. I wanted to be as much a part of
him as he was of me, and then I was falling in mindless oblivion.  Our combined
breathing sounded like the roar of a waterfall.  The blood gushed in my ears as
I came over and over and over.  He slammed into me, each solid thrust paired
with my name on his lips, and then he groaned and pulled out, shooting hot cum
in long, strong spurts all over my hip.

I
drifted down to earth with a smile on my face, a breathless angel without
wings. Melting, reforming against him in a tangle of arms and legs, I had the
presence of mind to wonder,
What does this make us now?

The
scar tissue around my heart hardened instantly.  Sleeping with him didn’t make
us anything, really. It didn’t mean he would change because we’d shared our
bodies.  I’d needed what he’d given me. No more, no less. Trying to think
beyond that point where Asher was concerned was stupid.  Hadn’t I learned anything
from my first go-around with him?