Blood to Dust

I fell in love.

I fell in lust.

I fell in stupid.

I nod, my forehead bobbing against his, feeling pleasantly yet sickly light-headed. “Thank you.” My voice croaks. “For asking for what they demanded. For what they took. But it’s unnecessary with you.”

Silently, I plead for his touch by beginning to peel off my clothing. He takes a step back in the blue pool, watching me through eyes heavy with desire. The jacket falls to the ground first, my armor against men. My red dress and flip-flops follow and are discarded near a stripy yellow and white lounge chair. I slide into the pool, clad only in my bra and panties, and straight into Nate’s arms.

The water is cold, but all I feel is his heat.

He takes my mouth with his and kisses me desperately, my legs wrapped around his waist. I feel his want for me, and again, am surprised by my reaction. It doesn’t feel sleazy or scary. It doesn’t hold a promise of something devastating.

I drag my tongue along his neck, sucking his pulse and his life into me, my back still pressed to the edge of the pool as his erection moves up and down my stomach. A muffled groan disappears into my hair every time our groins touch. He tastes salty and male and like my own, personal heaven.

“Cockburn. . .” He bites my earlobe, his shaft digging between my legs. Our lips find each other and our tongues move together erotically. I don’t even care if people can see us from the dozens of windows overlooking the pool. Let them look and eat their hearts out. Life’s too short to care about what other people think.

Time.

I want to use it wisely as long as he’s around.

“Delaware,” I tease back into his mouth, panting with what’s beginning to feel like an orgasm building between my legs like a hot Saharan sandstorm.

“Tell me something beautiful, Cockburn,” he whispers behind my ear, stroking my lower back, igniting something sinful. “Tell me something pretty like you.”

I sift through my thoughts, even though it’s damn hard with his hands roaming all over me.

“’A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.’ Robert Frost.”

Hot lips land on my collarbone.

“How rough do you want me tonight, Little Poem?”

“Rough,” I pant.

“Turn.”

I spin around and he lifts my upper body so that I’m lying flat on the concrete next to the pool, my cheek resting against the surface. I feel his fingers peeling down my underwear, my ass facing him. I grin into the cold tiles under the hot night.

“What are you doing, Delaware?”

“I don’t have a condom here,” he says, dodging my question, spreading my ass cheeks with his firm fingers. Embarrassment tickles at the pit of my stomach. I’ve never done this before. Not willingly, anyway. Godfrey sodomized me, but I wasn’t there when it happened. I blanked out. Now, I’m here completely, ready to feel it.

I get over my doubts and worries by reminding myself that it’s Nate Vela. Or Christopher Delaware. I’d let both versions of him do anything they wanted to me. Hell, I’d even let Beat tap it any time of the day.

“That could be a problem.” I feign innocence, my teeth crushing gritty, salty sand from the floor. Nate digs one finger into my pussy, borrowing my wetness and rubbing it against my anal rim in circles.

“I’m clean,” he continues. “Checked myself when I got out of prison, and haven’t been with anyone on the outside.”

That’s a surprise, unless you really know Nate. Women don’t interest him.

Storms do.

“And on the inside?”

He smacks my ass hard, a slap that lands on my left ass cheek and makes my face crash against the floor. The boom of his palm on my skin ricochets between the palm trees, and a red sting follows.

“Watch it, Cockburn.”

I chuckle, knowing that this guy is way too intelligent to be a homophobe. I love when he hurts me. Pain feels different under his touch.

With him, we’re sharing, not distributing.

With him, pain is just another way to feel.

He spreads my ass again and places his hot tongue on the flesh between my ass and sex, giving me a thorough, warm lick. I shiver, feeling my erect nipples grinding against the concrete, and lift my ass to his face, asking for more.

Sinking his head into the pool, he comes up with his mouth to my pussy and starts fucking me with his tongue. Thrusting his hotness between my folds hard and fast from behind, his nose buried in my ass. I whine in need, my hips bucking, rocking, circling, searching. His square jaw scratches my thighs, the stubble burning my skin in a way that’s almost too painful if it weren’t for the cold water splashing over them with every move of his head. After a few minutes, his mouth moves north to my ass crack. His tongue swirls around my hole, and I’m quaking all over, jerking into his face every time he presses his tongue hard against my skin, applying pressure on my sensitive spot.