Take Me in the Dark (5 page)

Now I’m fully grinning. It’s probably really unattractive, but I’m too giddy to care. “I can’t tell if that’s super creepy or super sweet.”

He grins too. “Probably both, but it’s mostly super hot.” His lashes lower as he takes in my body one last time. My nerves return. My body shakes. I can’t believe how different it feels to be next to this person I’ve known for so long—and how amazing and frightening.

His cock strains against his jeans. “You don’t have to do this. I mean, I only want you to if you want to.”

Instead of answering, I reach across his lap and unbutton his jeans. He takes a deep breath as I pull them back over his thighs. His hair is gold under the dim, yellow lights.

I wrap my right hand around the base of his cock. He sucks in a breath as I pull gently towards the tip. I can’t believe how hot he is beneath my palm.

“Laura,” he murmurs as he fists the sheets. His stomach muscles tighten. He strains the muscles in his legs. I rub faster, swirling my wrist as I bring it up, my eyes never leaving his face.

I see it all—his dark, reverent expression as he watches me, that moment of exquisite, almost painful bliss as he lets go. I’m still watching him as he cums on my hands. It’s thick and sticky—certainly not romantic or beautiful—and yet this moment contains so much romance and beauty that I feel as if it just happened to some other girl instead of me.

Slowly, his eyes open. They lose focus as he looks at my mouth. I lean forward, still gripping him, and chastely touch my lips to his.

It’s a light kiss. Almost nothing. When I pull back I’m the one gasping for breath.

He lets go of the sheets and brings his hands to the side of my face. He holds me still, his expression one of awe and something else. I’m not ready for the depth of the emotion in his eyes. I’m not ready to recognize my own feelings. Sometimes, when you see everything, you see too much.

I lean back, out of his lose grip. Somehow, my cheeks feel simultaneously flushed and cold. “Was it everything you imagined it would be?” I joke even though my heart isn’t in it. I hope he doesn’t call me on it.

He smiles. “I’m going to have to change my pants.” He stands and grabs some paper towels from the counter. One of the benefits of living in a small space is never having to go far to find anything.

After a few seconds of watching his back, I sit on my hands and look away. “You want to make the crackers now?”

I hear him turn. I hope I’m not blushing. I hope that if I am, he doesn’t notice.

“Later,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to do something for you first.”

I’m anxious and thrilled. “What do you mean?”

He kneels on the floor before me. Gently, he brings his hands to my knees and pushes them a part. “I’ll only kiss you,” he promises. “And only if you want me to.”

Blood rushes through my body. A kiss has never sounded so dangerous.

“Do you want me to, Laura?”

Do I? Anticipation floods my veins. My knees tremble. It’s cool between my legs because I’m already so wet and ready for whatever he wants to give me. My chest heaves as I nod. “Yes.”

His hands slide up the inside of my thighs. His touch is so light that it almost tickles—or maybe it’s just my body tingling, already reacting to him.

He flattens his palm against my stomach. My torso tightens.

“Relax,” he whispers. Again, I’m struck by the strength of his fingers—the precision with which they complete each task. Intoxicating giddiness fills me as I think of being the object of this man’s full attention.

His hand slides down my slit. I fall back onto my elbows. My hair slides between my damp shoulder blades.

“Just let me kiss you.” He sounds as intoxicated as I feel. I look down at him between my legs. His eyes mirror my own dark passion.

He presses his lips to my clit. My thighs reflexively try to tighten, but he holds them apart as he parts his lips. His tongue flicks against me. I curl my toes and arch my hips, trying to get closer, but he holds me in place.

I grab the sheets, pulling them off the corners of the mattress, twisting them in my fists. He continues to kiss with that same softness and thoroughness.

I’m falling apart.

I shut my eyes with a sigh, and in that darkness I remember
him
.

A chill sweeps through me. I don’t want to remember him or how he so unceremoniously left. I don’t want to feel guilty for accepting the love of another man when
he
refused to even kiss me.

But I can’t stop myself from remembering even as passion surges through me. The heat of his breath behind that impenetrable mask. The roughness of his hands. The strength in them came from blunt force instead of precision. He felt like he could unravel at any moment—as if his passion could consume him and drown out his sanity. In his arms, I was always unraveled. I was always consumed.

He left. You owe him nothing, Laura. Stop
.

My eyes shoot open and meet David’s dark gaze. He hides no part of himself—not his desire, or even his fear. A part of him must still worry that I’ll leave. For a second I’m afraid he can read my thoughts—that something about my body betrays me—but he continues to lushly unravel my hesitance.

I let go of the sheets and grab the back of his head. Just barely, his teeth brush against my clit. The hardness is unexpected. Pleasure shoots through me as his tongue slips into me. He shuts his eyes. His kisses lose their previous softness as his hands slip behind my back and hook around my hips.

He pushes me further onto the bed. My head hits his pillows and my ankles hit his shoulders. The yellow blanket over the window sways. I cry out. He continues to worship me with his mouth, drawing me further into a bliss so strong it’s almost intolerable.

His tongue sinks deeper into me. I don’t want to think of
him
. I don’t want
him
to intrude on us. But I can’t stop it. My memories of my dark lover and this moment with David bleed together. The scent of wet pavement and lingering incense. The complete darkness and the dimming light. The sensation of being submerged in a man’s passion and the feeling of this beautiful man’s sweet kiss.

“David.” I whisper his name as if its my salvation. My fingers dig into his scalp. I must be pulling his soft hair, but he doesn’t make a sound. He kisses me as if there’s nothing between us. As if he’ll never stop.

I also don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want a mystery, but David’s softness. I want love instead of guilt. I pull my legs further apart and my heels slide from his shoulders down his back. My thumbs dig into his cheeks.

David murmurs something against me. I can’t hear it.

Solnyshko moyo.

No, he said Laura.

Cum for me.

I arch my back and cry out, pushing myself harder into his mouth until I’m straining against his teeth. Pleasure pierces me, so perfect it’s almost agonizing. I shatter beneath it—I shatter beneath him—as he holds me, kissing me with an increasing softness as the spasms end and I can barely feel his lips.

I moan again as he sits up, away from my body. I can’t believe how cold my cunt feels without him there. How my thighs still tingle from the pressure of his fingers.

He sits beside me and looks down at me. He appears content but his eyes are guarded.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

He sighs. Looks at the window for a second, then back at me. “Peanut butter.”

He grins. I don’t. “If I could move, I’d whack you with a pillow,” I warn.

“Hey, how can I call myself a man if I can’t feed my woman when she’s hungry.”

His woman? I tense at the words and, unfortunately, he notices. I wish he hadn’t. All of the happiness that crept into his smile during our playful exchange is gone. “I’m not hungry,” I tell him because I don’t know how to even begin a conversation about what is really bothering us.

“Your stomach growled three times while I was eating you out. It’s okay. I kinda thought it was cute.”

My mouth goes dry. “David, that’s not cute.”

He laughs. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it also made me feel super guilty. I should have offered after our snack. And, I really should have done something else, but…”

I don’t like the glint in his eyes when he trails off. And by don’t like, I mean that I like it way too much. “But what?” I ask even though I know I shouldn’t.

He grins again, and this time it’s downright sinful. “I promised I’d just kiss you, but I’m pretty good with my hands, too.”

I gulp. “Well, aren’t you cocky.”

“I don’t mind putting my money where my mouth is.”

Was that a pun? I tilt my head and shoot him a glare. “Go make my peanut butter and crackers.”

He stands, holding up his hands as if he just did something bad. “Alright, alright. I’m on it.” Then, he notices me looking at his hands and wiggles his fingers.

I groan to hide my laughter and turn over onto my stomach, stuffing my face in the pillow. “You are such a dork!”

He grabs a jar of peanut butter off the counter, a butter knife from the drawer, and the cracker box off the top of the mini fridge. “Maybe, but I’m a dork that feeds you.”

I give him a lopsided grin as he starts smearing peanut butter on the crackers. “So you’re a useful dork.”

When he hands the cracker to me, his expression is so sincere that my smile falters. “I hope so.”

David walks me to the cafeteria that evening. There’s ice on the pavement. It’s slippery. Dangerous. That’s why I’m holding onto his hand like my life depends on it.

Yes, that’s the only reason.

Well, there might be one other reason. His hands are really warm and it’s cold out. But I swear those are the only two reasons! It’s not like I’m doing such a sentimental thing just because I like it.

He glances at me as we wait at a stoplight. “You look cute when you’re cheeks are all red.”

I swat his arm. “It’s cold! Of course they’re red.”

“I know.” He grins, squeezing my hand. “I was just saying you’re cute.”

“Oh.” Well, now I kinda feel like a bitch.

“You’re also cute when you’re a little upset and…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Wow. I can already see that this is going to get me into a lot of trouble.”

I frown. “That what’s going to get you into trouble?”

The corner of his lip turns up. “How cute I think you are.”

My heartbeat thunders in my chest. He has to hear it. There’s no way he can’t.
Great. I’m falling apart because a guy I’ve known for years just called me cute
. Then again, he had just given me an earth-shattering orgasm, so…

The light turns. Thank God.

After that we don’t talk, and I don’t notice that I’m leaning on his shoulder until we reach the cafeteria.

My friends are already there, of course. Almost everyone is home for Thanksgiving so the cafeteria isn’t nearly as crowded as it usually is. Because of that, my friends see me and David right away.

My grip tightens on David’s hand for support. I don’t like the looks of their smiles as we approach.

“So, what have you two lovebirds been up to?” Cassie asks, voice dipping suggestively.

David and I spent the day in his bed, but not doing the things my friends would think we were doing if I admitted that! Of course, we did do some things but…it wasn’t like…

I realize my cheeks are burning. Damnit! Why do I have to always do that? It makes me look so guilty. Now everyone has the wrong idea and I haven’t even said anything yet. “We’re not lovebirds,” I stammer, gripping the hand next to mine so hard it was a wonder I don’t crush David’s bones.

Oh right. David is next to me. Shit! I don’t want him to think I didn’t like him. I mean, I do like him, but I don’t…oh I have no idea what the hell is going on!

“We’re just friends,” I said. Then I shut my eyes because there was no way in hell I was going to be able to say what I needed to say next with them open. “Friends with benefits.”

I don’t understand the weight of what I just said until a wicked glint lights my friends eyes. Shit! They’re going to get the wrong idea. Sort of. Maybe it’s the right idea. How am I supposed to know? I clamp my fingers around David’s hand and look up at him desperately.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t help. “Friends with benefits?” he asks, voice full of wonder.

Damn. That trashy term sounds so sweet when he says it. “Yeah.” I blush.

“Well, what kinds of benefits will I be getting?”

I don’t think it’s possible for my face to turn any redder. Is he really asking this in front of my friends? “Good ones,” I mumble.

He smiles. “Good ones, huh? Well, those are the best kind.”

I can’t say anything. Not. One. Thing. If this was happening to anyone else, I’d be rolling my eyes and gagging. But right now, right here, with David, I feel as if I’m floating. It’s pathetic. Stupid. And…absolutely amazing.

David pulls out a chair for me next to Anna. I shuffle to the seat. Anna’s beaming like I just told her I was getting married and she’s one of my bridesmaids. I blame her for what happens next. My toe hooks around one of the legs of the chair and I pitch forward, right into the middle of the table.