He felt her lips curve in a smile. “I didn’t mean that,” she said. “But we could.”
Except he didn’t like to fuck her when he’d just woken up from one of the nightmares. It felt too dirty, like letting her get close to that moment and all the darkness that infected him. He also didn’t quite trust himself right after one of those dreams, still shaky and overly alert.
Especially after he’d been fucking holding her down.
“Let me hold you,” he said instead. He wanted to hold her gently, sweetly. He wanted to erase every rough touch he’d used on her a few minutes ago. He wanted to erase those memories she had of him doing that, but he knew well how impossible that would be.
Wordlessly she took his hand and led him back to bed.
After she climbed in, he curved his body around hers. God, she was warm and soft. It was like fucking heaven to feel her in his arms. It scared him sometimes, how good she felt. Like he might hold her too tight, might force her to stay even if she’d be better off gone.
He let out an uneven breath.
She stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, rhythmic and soothing. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He pressed his face into her hair. She smelled so fucking good. His arms tightened around her. He forced himself to relax a fraction, to let her breathe. But not much, because he needed her. Needed to hold her, to feel her safe and whole with him.
There were questions he wanted to ask her. Like if he’d hurt her while he was dreaming. If he’d hurt her before tonight. He wanted to know if she was happy with him, truly. But he knew what her answers would be. She was fine, fine, fine. He wasn’t sure she’d ever tell him if she wasn’t.
She was too damn strong for her own good.
His heart had stopped racing, his nerves had cooled. She had that effect on him. His dick was also hard as a fucking flagpole. She had that effect on him too, especially with her ass pressed up against him.
He smoothed his hand over her hip and down between her legs. Soft. Wet. Fucking heaven.
A small hitch in her breath was the sound of her assent. That and the widening of her thighs, giving him more access. She always let him in, and at least in this one thing, he could give her pleasure. He could make her feel good.
As long as he kept the dark side of him in check.
As long as he kept the beast locked up.
Erin
Erin shuddered as his thick finger slid through her folds.
God, she was slick. She could hear the sounds of her wetness. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. It was one thing for a man to wake up hard. That was normal. Natural. But this?
Her body was constantly primed for him. As if it knew he might roll on top of her and slide inside at any moment—and he did. She’d wake up clenching around him, her hips already rocking. She didn’t need to be awake for him to make her come.
He gave her the best dreams.
Her body was ready, but her mind was…worried. Worried about the dark expression on Blake’s face, the loneliness in his stance. Sex distracted him, but it was a temporary fix. Then again, there was no permanent fix. Not to war. Not to the scars that covered his body. No permanent fix for the ones inside him.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Let me…” She wasn’t sure what she’d do. Stroke him. Tell him everything would be okay, even if it wouldn’t. Something, anything.
He was already shaking his head. She felt the motion of it just like she felt his arm tighten around her, his fingers stroke more forcefully. His touch was merciless on her body.
“I want to make you feel good,” he muttered against her neck, and she was helpless then. Helpless except to relax her legs completely as he stroked and stroked.
He was hard and big against the small of her back. His fingers weren’t entering her. They just teased at the opening, taunting her. “Fuck me,” she moaned. “Please.”
“Yes,” he muttered, sounding hard, unforgiving. His masterful fingers, his endless teasing was all the answer he would give. She bucked her hips mindlessly, trying to grasp those thick fingers, trying to fuck them. He wouldn’t let her, always pulling away, bringing her to the brink only to push her back again. She was gasping, crying, begging.
Begging him, when she should have had more pride than that.
It physically hurt, how much she needed him. “Please, Blake. Fuck me.”
Only then did he move. But it wasn’t to mount her.