Fix It Up (Torus Intercession 3)

I needed him to move. “Nick,” I ground out.

He stroked me faster but otherwise remained still.

“Nick,” I whimpered. “Please.”

“I want you right there beside me. I want all your attention. Promise me.”

“Yes.” My voice cracked.

He eased back and then thrust forward, deep, jarring, and perfect. I was ready for the pounding, had to have it, was desperate for it, the yearning about to be loud.

“Oh yes,” he moaned, ragged and greedy, his fingers digging into my hips. “Locryn Barnes, your ass is mine.”

I howled into the bunched quilt as he hammered inside of me, the plunge and retreat an endless loop of yearned-for pleasure, his strength and stamina a gift.

He slipped free, rolling me to my back, on me even before I could vent my frustration, shoving back inside, his hips snapping forward as he stroked my legs reverently, savoring the feel of me in his hands as he curled forward and kissed me.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he ordered, and there was a sliver of menace there, not quite anger, but close.

I met his gaze, but it took me a second.

Sex was one thing; sex while you stared into the face of the person you were in bed with was a whole other level of intimacy.

“Don’t look away,” he said as he began the slow, sensual stroking of his cock deep inside my body. “I want you to see it and feel it at the same time when I say the words.”

I gasped as he pegged the spot that tightened my balls and nearly made me come. “What—fuck,” I panted, the lump in my throat suddenly more than I could speak around.

“I love you, Loc, and now you have the words.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that there was no way he could possibly love me after so short a time, but he kissed me and drove his cock to my core, and there was nothing but me coming, spurting over his abdomen and clenching around him so tight that he couldn’t move.

“Loc,” he rasped in my ear, shuddering through his own climax.

We were one, joined tightly, tangled irrevocably, and when he relaxed, his release draining, he collapsed over me, heart to heart, and I wrapped him in my arms.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered before he kissed me.

Fifteen

I was up first the following morning. My run was easy, and when the road turned from county road to unpaved dirt, that was fine. I liked the sign that said I was leaving one part of the county and entering the other. The house was still asleep when I got back, so I showered and changed, put on some coffee, and took a cup out to sit on the porch.

I wasn’t sure what prompted me to do it, maybe it was just the right time, but I dialed the number and waited for it to connect.

“Locryn?”

It was a surprise that he picked up since he hadn’t seen me when he came back to Chicago to pack his things all those months ago. “Brann,” I said with a sigh.

“This is a surprise.”

I took a breath. “I don’t wanna bother you. I just—I wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and even more so for the way things ended. I’m working on being better, but…anyway, I hope you can forgive me.”

Nothing.

“Okay, so…yeah. That’s all. I’m glad you’re happy.”

Still with the silence.

“Thanks for taking the call. Bye,” I said, smiling into the phone before I hung up, sad, but understanding that most of the time things ended because it was time, and natural. No one kept everyone in their life, or if they did, I hadn’t met that person yet.

When my phone rang seconds later, I was surprised. “Brann?”

“You could give me a second.”

“Oh, yeah, no I—sorry,” I replied quickly, suddenly hopeful.

“You call out of the blue, apologize, wish me well, and then hang up?”

I cleared my throat. “You were a bit quiet on your end, huh?”

“That’s because I could die of shock from you not only reaching out but sounding—Jesus, Loc, no snarl or anything. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You first,” I prodded him, unable to stifle the sigh and, moreover, not caring that he heard it. “Tell me about your life now, Brann. I wanna hear about your girls.”

It was quiet again on his end.

“Brann?”

“In case I forget to say it later,” he husked, “thanks for calling.”

“Yeah.”

“I should have agreed to see you when I was there packing up my stuff.”

He thought I was in Chicago, not out on a job. “But I get why you didn’t.”

“Okay,” he whispered, like his voice had perhaps gone out on him.

“Cooper said your girls have you brushing the dog’s teeth. What the hell is that about?”

“What?” He was indignant, and that fast, there was normalcy.

“You don’t even like dogs.”