His Fire Inside

Rolling to his side, he hears my protest and remains inside me as he holds me close. I don’t know what to say; he wasn’t the only one. All I can do is watch the clock change. Now we only have eleven minutes. When the minute changes, I pull away, and this time he doesn’t stop me. I put on my shirt and tuck my torn panties into the pocket of my robe.

When my hand is on the door, he finally speaks. “I’ll be home early tonight. Be waiting for me.”

Looking at him, I want to make a smart remark, only I see the lingering hunger in his eyes. So I nod before slipping out of the room. Thankfully there are no creaking floorboards to worry about. My body doesn’t like the rough feel of the worn shirt, so I take it off. I know I should go into the bathroom and clean up, but I don’t want to wash away the proof of last night. I slide between the cool sheets, and I’m asleep before I wrap my covers around me.

11

Rourke

When the door closes behind Olivia I can finally exhale the breath I had no idea I was holding. Is it because she left without fighting, pouting, or begging to stay longer? Is it because I know my mother won’t be up and moving around for another half hour? It’s none of those reasons; it’s because she’s finally out of reach and I won’t be counting down the seconds until I can roll her under me to fuck her, like I did every single time I was done coming inside her. I hoped finally having her would soothe the fierce desire for her, but instead, it’s only made me hungrier. Christ, I was surprised she let me take her again this morning after three times last night.

I’ve never had a woman four times in less than twenty-four hours. Fuck the whole cocks-of-steel bragging most men swear to; I have never even wanted a woman more than twice. Not least because I know a ten-inch-long and four-inch-thick cock in theory is something to be proud of, but in the real world women weren’t up to more than twice a night. Olivia broke every rule and expectation that came before her. I think back to the very first day I met her. There was my life before her, and there’s now. I’m just not fucking sure it’s a good thing or bad thing. Right now it feels fucking amazing but...my phone goes off. I answer the text. I need to get my ass in gear.

As I walk past Olivia’s room, I can’t stop my mind from running through last night. The moment when she told me she quit, my world fell out from under my feet. Fuck that, no way was she going anywhere—it wasn’t an option. Then I understood what she was saying, what she wanted. Stepping under the hot stream of water from the shower, I close my eyes as I remember her small hands running over my body, her soft kisses, the feel of her velvet tongue as it roamed over my chest. My cock stiffens painfully as I remember the moment a small hand wrapped around my cock and she moved to try to take me into her mouth and I stopped her. There was too much I wanted to do to lose control the way I was close to just by having her small hand around me. Tonight, my body demands. Tonight, I promise as I give in to my need.

I soap my cock with Olivia’s body wash. The scent of coconut fills the shower. I imagine Olivia’s tongue running along my cock, and my hand strokes down to the tip leaking for her. Will she be willing to swallow me? Her breathy little moans every time I came inside her give me hope; the memory of them has me tightening my grip. Christ, not yet.

It’s been more years since I could remember since I fucked without a rubber, and now I never want to use one again. When Olivia told me she was protected, I have never been so relieved. I purposefully hadn’t brought protection with me, so I wouldn’t give into temptation. With any other woman I wouldn’t have taken their word—I still used condoms every time—yet I hadn’t doubted Olivia for a second. The feel of her, tight, hot wetness, her body pulsing around my cock...fuck, I come from the memory of it.

I’m so weak, it takes a moment before I can push away from the tiled wall to finish my shower. Shit, I really need to move my ass. Tonight.

***

Olivia

I wake up slowly, clinging to sleep and the amazing dream. Then it all comes rushing back: it wasn’t a dream. The soreness between my legs verges on pain at how often Rourke proved he was most definitely able to fit. I’m unable to wipe the smile off my face as I remember it in technicolor. I welcome the tender aching, regretting nothing and already looking forward to tonight. I’ll enjoy a nice long swim then soak in the tub before Rourke comes home.

As much as I don’t want to, I slip on my toweling robe and pad into the bathroom to take a shower. I’m surprised by the clock telling me it’s a little after ten in the morning. Usually I’m awake by eight thirty, then with a blush I remind myself I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.

Turning on the water I step below the stream of hot water and sigh as I wash away the proof of what happened, until I look closely and find there are in fact a multitude of marks to prove last night took place. There are a few bruises on both hips and a small bruise on a breast. Every last one makes me smile.

All I can really think about last night is, wow. It was more than I hoped for. I loved Rourke whispering about how he dreamed of me, me. The gorgeous, arrogant asshole who’s fucked some of the most beautiful women on the planet dreamed of me, and he said the real thing was even better. And I don’t doubt his word for a minute—there was too much awe in his voice, too much desire in his eyes. He looked like a kid who woke up to everything he wanted on Christmas morning.

And then there was his smile. No smirks, or half smile; Rourke had a great big smile on his face several times throughout the night. Especially when I pleaded for him to turn off the bedside table lamp, after the first time. He laughed, actually laughed, saying he wanted to see everything, my body was too beautiful to be hidden away. I couldn’t argue when he said that.

Rinsing out my hair, I smile at the way Rourke ran his hands through it last night, then used it to pull me back. I’m a freak for loving when he got rough, it was thrilling to know his desire for me pushed him to the edge of his control. Mainly because I still find it hard to believe.

Fat ass, gross, disgusting; those were the words Connor used to describe my body by the second year of our marriage. I had gradually gone up from my size ten to a twelve, then a fourteen in my misery of going through the motions with Connor. There was also the fact between school and work and trying to take care of our house, there was a lot of fast food and prepackaged food. Yet what Connor called gross, Rourke Vega, a disgustingly gorgeous man who has been with disgustingly gorgeous women, thought was beautiful.

As I dry off, I can’t keep the smile off my face. My stomach growling drives me into the kitchen. Technically today is my day off, but even on my days off I spent most of the day with Cheryl. Cheryl wasn’t inclined to leave the house very often, but I managed to talk her into going with me to the bookstore, then we stopped in at a yarn store for her crochet supplies, which she was now only able to do instead of knitting because of her stroke. During the day we watched television, read, discussing books we would trade, sat out on the patio or played in the pool after her therapy. I’ve been racking my brain for the best way to draw Cheryl out of her shell while respecting her introverted nature.

I scramble some eggs and make toast, then sit down in the dining room. I’m beginning to wonder where Cheryl is when she comes in from the patio. She smiles brightly. “Well hello there, lazy bones.”

Smiling, I move my eggs on my plate. “Yeah, I really got into a good book and was up half the night.”

Cheryl laughs. “If that’s your story, my dear. But if you go out today you might want to try and hide those love bites on

your neck. Or maybe not—Rourke might have meant for them to be seen.”

I blush as my hand goes up to my neck. Damn it, I hadn’t even thought of them. “You aren’t supposed to know,” I whisper in worry.

Her smile disappears as she sits down next to me. “It will be okay, dear. I promise. I’ll never let on.” Cheryl takes my hand between hers. “I’m so happy. The very first day I saw you and Rourke together, both trying so hard to take your eyes off each other and failing miserably. Rourke fiercely telling you he loved your body exactly as it is, the fire in his eyes as I saw him fighting against the desire to touch you, I knew. Even as he was trying to fight it, he’d found the one.”

I blush. “I don’t know. Will you think me a tart for saying I don’t know if I see Rourke in my future because I’m trying hard not to think that far ahead?”

“Of course not. I understand how scary it can be to even contemplate that your future might not include Rourke.” I blink back tears as she says what I’m feeling. She hugs me. “Now dear, no crying you’ll get your man, and Rourke won’t let the only woman who’s dared to talk back to him and make him laugh get away.”

Wiping my eyes, I smile weakly. “I hope so.”