Pause (Larsen Bros)

“Okay?” I ask.

His nod is terse, his hands fisted in anticipation.

I grab hold of his half-hard cock and give it a few pumps. The solid heat and velvet of him is intoxicating. Especially combined with his musky, salty scent. And I know he’s going to taste the same. The dark of his pupils are so large I think I could drown in them. As if I could lose myself in the way he’s watching me. Like I’m everything he could ever want. Same as always, it’s a dizzying sensation, receiving all of this man’s focus. Having the whole world narrowed down to this moment, to just him and me. It’s like he’s magic, the way he does this to me each and every time.

My mouth waters and my heart pounds as I guide him to my lips. I drag the flat of my tongue over the head of his cock again and again, getting him wet. Then I take just a little into my mouth, tracing the rim of his cockhead with the tip of my tongue. He sucks in a breath, letting it out slow. I swear the man doesn’t even blink. When I suck on him good and hard, his jaw goes rigid. My hands work the rest of him, one fondling his balls and massaging his perineum while the other tightens and tugs on the thick length of him. I lick him and drag my lips down as much of his length as I can manage. Loving him with my mouth. Giving him my all. And it’s nothing less than delightful to see his thigh muscles bulge as he fights to stay still, to stay upright.

“Fuck,” he says, gruff and deep.

After a few more minutes of this, he can’t hold out any longer. His stomach muscles tightening and eyelids squeezing shut. Veins stand out beneath the velvet skin and his balls draw up tight to his body. Beads of pre-cum hit my tongue.

“I’m close,” he hisses, giving me warning.

And when he does go, losing all control and fucking my face with vigor, I swallow over and over. Doing my best to take it all in. To take all of him. An expression somewhere between rapture and torment takes him over. It’s nice to be appreciated. When at last he’s finished, I ease up, being sweet, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before letting go. His whole body is sort of slumped. And the look in his eyes . . .

“You liked it,” I say, with a smile.

“Like is far too tame a word.” Hands beneath my armpits, he hauls me to my feet and plants a kiss on my lips. His hands cup my face, gentle but firm. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being here with me.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, gaze full of something I’m not ready to label. “Anytime, Anna.”

If I wasn’t awake before the hand smacked me in the shoulder, I certainly am after. Head foggy with sleep, I switch on the bedside lamp. Leif is thrashing about on the bed. He’s making these heartbreaking wounded sounds. Not words, exactly. Something else. And it’s horrible. But the startled, partly muffled yell is even worse.

“Hey, Leif,” I say, shaking his arm. Carefully keeping my distance just in case. “Leif. Babe, it’s okay. Come on, wake up. You’re having a dream. It’s just a dream.”

His eyelids blink open, his gaze dark and confused as he looks around.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Anna?”

“Yeah.” I switch from shaking his arm to petting it. Long, gentle caresses of his feverish hot skin. I smooth his hair back from his face, touching him slow and sweet. Doing my best to soothe him. This is the first bad dream I’ve been present for and it was a doozy. “Must have been a hell of a nightmare.”

A grunt from him.

“Was it about the accident?”

He winces, then nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Can I get you a glass of water or anything? Is there anything I can do to help?”

For a moment, he just stares at me. Only the streetlight creeping around the curtain’s edges provides any light. The night is silent now that he’s woken. Perfectly still. Apart from the harsh breaths pumping in and out of his chest. Whatever he saw has freaked him right out.

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arms. I stretch out at his side, resting my head on his shoulder. Eventually, he says, “First one I’ve had since we started sleeping together.”

“Yeah.” And it feels like a failure, that I couldn’t fix this for him, but that’s stupid. It doesn’t help anybody. Lacking superpowers or mystical abilities, all I can do is be there for the man. And that I intend to do with my whole heart.

His arms wrap me up tight, his jawline resting against the top of my head. Slowly, steadily, his breathing calms. Against my hip, his fingers tense and release, over and over again. “You were stuck in the car and . . . I couldn’t get the motorbike off me. My arm was all fucked up and the bike was so damn heavy I just couldn’t shift it. I was trapped.”