Come Alive (The Cityscape 2)

He put his hands over mine and squeezed them hard before removing them. I didn’t fight him, though I wanted to. After a long moment, I backed away. My hand curled into a fist over my thumping heart. I longed for him with my whole being; I had never wanted anything more than to feel him now. But it couldn’t be. There was a wall between us. I told myself over and over that it couldn’t be, that it was a mistake, that the day would come when not being able to touch him wouldn’t hurt so bad . . . .

I turned and left, focusing on anything but the sting in my chest. My whole body flinched when he hurled an angry, thunderous curse into the night; but I didn’t turn around. At the exit, my hand gripped the handle. I rested my forehead against the door and breathed. My body was turning against me, the longing both physical and painful. In that moment, I wanted to give it all up just to feel him one more time.

I jerked away from the door when swift footsteps echoed behind me. My chest constricted. It was seconds before I felt that familiar heat on my back. I swallowed dryly, staring at the handle and willing my feet to walk out the door. David’s arm curled around me, and his hand rested on the lock. I closed my eyes. The deadbolt slid into place with a deafening click.

“Turn,” he demanded. “Look at me.”

My body obeyed on its own, as did my eyes. He slipped cold hands underneath my hair and grasped the nape of my neck. You are my escape, I said without words. And everything will be all right. In his arms, nothing could touch me; not fear, pain, monsters under the bed, attackers in the alley, the judgments of others.

He found my impatient, wet lips with his and calmed them with a sweet, close-mouthed kiss. I felt his tongue, coaxing my lips open gently. I responded slowly but desperately, snaking my arms around his back and clutching him close as though he might disintegrate if I didn’t. My weight sank against him, and he sucked air sharply from my parted lips.

“Oh, God,” he said into my mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. I never stopped wanting you.”

“Don’t make me go,” I pleaded quietly.

“How could I ever make you go?” His arms tightened around me, and our lips joined with the heat of reunited lovers. Lovers who had just overcome their agonizing, crawling enemy: time.

His hand slid up my back and tangled in my hair, pulling slightly to expose my neck. He licked and then kissed a spot under my ear, and I fell limp against him. Every part of his body was hard, from the arms that held me, to the abs that supported me, to the erection that begged me. I moved my hips against him, encouraged by the small groans that escaped the back of his throat.

With one hand still in my hair, the other dropped to my ass and squeezed me against him. His lips returned to mine, and he kissed me like he owned me. Passion and fire exploded between us with only thin layers of clothing between us.

He was lacing his hand with mine, and tearing himself away to lead me from the exit. The dark master bedroom was a curved stretch of seamless windows. He placed me in front of them, with the cityscape at my back.

“Take that off before I rip it off,” he instructed and backed away to watch.

After reaching behind to lower my zipper, I stepped out of my shoes and onto the cold marble floor. The jumpsuit peeled from my body like I was shedding a second skin. I wavered in my black strapless bra and matching thong, awaiting instruction.

“Christ.” There was anguish in his voice as he reached and turned me around. He ran a hand down the length of my spine. “You’re nothing,” he said sadly.

I turned my head over my shoulder and responded urgently, “I’m nothing without you.”

He kissed my palms reverently and then the insides of my wrists. His lips moved up my left arm and over my shoulder, moaning my name softly against my skin. “I never stopped thinking of you,” he said into the curve of my neck. “My beautiful girl. I’ve dreamed of having you again over and over.”

His words were bittersweet pangs in my heart. My fingers fumbled with his button until it gave. When I nudged my head under his clothing to kiss his stomach, he squeezed my shoulders and muttered. When he pulled his sweater off, I admired him in his undershirt and boxer briefs; all man before me, stripped down to the basics.

He extended a hand to me, and I took it without hesitation. My legs wrapped around him when he lifted me. Yanking back the covers, he placed me atop buttery sheets against a mountain of pillows. I stayed secured to him as he ran a firm hand along my leg, fueling the ache. We stared at each other, me communicating with my eyes what I couldn’t with my words.

“You know why I get that way, don’t you?” he asked suddenly. “It’s torture to be next to you and not be able to even touch you. I can’t stay away from you, and I can’t have you.”

I nodded, hearing his words but nearly blind with lust. “Take this off,” I commanded, fisting his shirt.

He stood and tugged at the collar to yank it over his head. His boxer briefs were next. I bit my lip at how hard he was, solid and real, finally so real, and me, trembling with anticipation for him to relieve the heavy emptiness between my legs.

He was back on the bed, and I pulled at the ends of his velvety hair so he would settle his weight on me. His long body felt right covering mine.

I arched into him while his deft fingers released the clasp of my bra. His immense hand skated up my stomach. His fingers were coarse against my nipples, which tightened as he pinched them. With a hand on one breast, he lowered his head to take the other in his mouth. I gasped, my breast swelling into his open mouth as he swirled his tongue around it.

The longing between my legs tormented me, impatient to be acknowledged. He explored me leisurely though, with his lips and his hands, revering each curve of my body. In some spots he grasped me urgently, and in others, his touch was so gentle that I was sure I’d imagined it. I kept my hands tangled in his hair for fear that I’d wake up from this dream empty-handed.

“Olivia,” he moaned into the space between my breasts. Goose bumps lighted across my skin as his hand slipped into my panties. “Christ,” he bit out. His other hand grabbed mine. “Feel how fucking wet you are,” he demanded, pushing my hand between my legs. He guided our fingers into me.

“David,” I begged.

“That’s for me, baby. Does he get you dripping like this?”

I bit my lip and shook my head, my body tensing with arousal.

He released my hand, but his fingers continued sliding in and out of me. “Does he make you come?” he asked, his face hovering over mine.

I shook my head again.

He growled from his chest. “I’m still the only one. That part of you is mine.” He withdrew his hand, and I lifted my hips as he removed my panties with unnecessary concentration.

“David,” I begged again.

He kissed the inside of my knee. “What, baby?”

“I’m ready. Now.”

“You are more than ready,” he answered. The panties dropped, and he climbed back over me. He locked his lips on mine and made love to my mouth, softly and sweetly. “I was rough with you last time.” His words were careful, like his kisses and caresses. “Now that I have you again, I’ll fuck you slow so I can savor every second of it.”

I gasped, growing even wetter from his words but also with frustration that he wasn’t already inside me. My frustration grew when he stood up. I rose onto my knees and watched him pluck his pants from the floor, raiding the pockets.

I waited at the edge of the bed. We were playing with fire, and what scared me most was that I was lucid enough to stop it. But all I wanted was to cover myself in his broad, defined shoulders and spend our precious moments nestled in his smattering of chest hair.

&nbs

p; I reached out for him. There was a crinkle of foil, and he produced a condom. “I want to feel you, David, all of you, everything single thing,” I ranted as he rolled it over his cock.

“You will, baby, you will. In time. When you’re mine.” I bit my bottom lip eagerly and in that moment, I believed him. I never removed my eyes from him, scared even to blink and miss a millisecond of his beauty.

He crawled over me, forcing me onto my back. He placed his lips on mine and then trailed kisses down my neck as his hips found their place between my legs. My hands rejoiced over the hot skin of his hard, muscled back. He cupped my jaw and looked down on me. “Are you sure about this?” he asked with surprising tenderness.

I’d wanted to be this close to him for so long. The thought of losing him now chilled me to the bone, triggering a tremble through my body. “I’ve been empty since I left you,” I whispered to him. “I need this – I need you, one last time.”

“But I need more.” Unable to comfort him with words, I reached between us. “I need more,” he repeated. His low whisper rumbled into a groan when I touched him, and he grew stiffer in my hand.

He reached down too and wrapped his hand around mine. We both watched our hands rub the crown of his cock against my opening. “Please, I’m so ready,” I insisted, because my folds were quivering with anticipation. I flexed my hand around him, urging him in.

He looked back at me. “I like you slow,” he said. “I can see on your face how badly you want it.”

“I want it,” I breathed, “bad.”

My body jolted when he plunged into me, burying himself to the base. I exhaled with a loud moan. He was so swollen and hard inside of me, the thought alone coiled my insides. His thrusts began short, like he wanted deeper than our bodies would allow. He gathered me in his arms and flipped us over, keeping me against him. One hand splayed against my lower back, and the other higher, pushing my compliant breasts against the hard surface of his chest.

I straightened up to deepen the angle and stilled, savoring the feeling of having him wholly inside me. I lifted and sank back onto him while bracing myself on his abs. I felt them flex as he sat up and secured my body in his brawny arms.