Fix It Up: Torus Intercession Book Three, page 24
I lifted my face from his hands and took a step sideways to walk over and sit down on the bed. After a moment, I fell back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
“Why would you ever think I would do that?”
“More importantly,” I said, realizing something about myself, “why would I care if you did?”
He moved over to stand in the V of my legs. “I don’t think you care if anyone knows that you bottom or top. It doesn’t define you, and you’re scary enough to know that.”
“I don’t feel scary at the moment.”
“Well, you are,” he assured me, moving, thinking better of whatever he was going to do and lying down beside me. “People see you, and until you smile or speak to them in that coaxing way you have, you scare the crap out of them.”
I grunted.
“Flint told me he almost pissed his pants when you glared at him.”
“I don’t remember glaring at him.”
“Well, now he’s coming home with us to get better, so yay,” he said sarcastically.
“He’s your friend.”
“Yes, I know, but I’d prefer he go to Gamblers Anonymous and not horn in on my time with you. I mean, I just got you. I had big plans for us to be all alone after this.”
“I don’t think that’s gonna work.”
“No. I don’t want to hear that from you now. Until we get back to Santa Barbara, you promised to––”
“But look what just happened. I didn’t even let you explain; I just jumped to the wrong conclusion and figured you were sharing everything about me, and that’s just––”
“Stop,” he ordered, turning on his side and bracing himself on his elbow, staring down into my face. “We don’t know each other yet, not really. I mean, I’ve been a spoiled brat for almost the entirety of our time together, and now, suddenly, you’re supposed to trust me because I say so?”
I sat up and stared out the window at the night sky, at the clouds and the big, bright moon that gave a soft ambient glow to the otherwise dark room. “You really should go back downstairs. Everyone is here to see you, and it’s not fair that––”
“Don’t do that,” he whispered, feathering his fingers through my hair before he tightened his hand and turned my head so I could see him. “Don’t withdraw behind the whole professional-mask thing of yours.”
“Nick––”
“And that kid thing was really shitty.”
“Sorry,” I said automatically.
“You’re not sorry. You actually believe the whole, ‘you’re young, and I know what’s best for you’ crap you spew.”
“I do know what’s best for you, though,” I said tiredly.
He shook his head. “I lost my shit out there,” he confessed, grimacing. “I mean, Desmond—and I had to ask someone who the fuck he was, because I met so many people today I had no clue—but Desmond, Dez, I guess…he’s a handsome man. And that handsome man was sitting there flirting with you, talking to you for hours while I was up there singing, watching you the whole time, and you guys are drinking with other guys first, and then it’s just the two of you.”
I turned my head to look at him.
“And then he was leaning in with his arm around your shoulder, and I saw him turn his head, and his mouth was––” He caught his breath. “––Jesus. I almost yelled, but I got up instead and walked over there and––”
“I was moving,” I told him. “I was getting up.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
“I mean, yeah, I’m a little out of it, but when I felt his breath on my skin, I––”
“Here,” he said, slipping his hand around the side of my neck, stroking, drawing me close. “I saw his lips part, and he was going to taste this spot right here.”
“I would never have let him.”
“I know,” he husked, closing the space between us to kiss me.
It was gentle for a moment, before he slipped his tongue between my lips, parting them and then devouring my mouth, hungrily, possessively, pushing me down until I was flat on my back, and still he took and claimed until I had to shove him off me for air.
“Nick,” I moaned softly. “You need to––”
“Tell me, and don’t lie,” he demanded gently between voracious kisses. “Are you embarrassed that you love to bottom?”
“No,” I said truthfully. “It’s what I like most of the time. Sometimes I don’t, but it has nothing to do with me outside of this room.”
“Then you were hurt because you thought I shared something that was just between us.”
“Yeah,” I admitted under my breath.
“Then we’re back on the same page,” he murmured, his hands on my T-shirt, lifting it over my head and off. “Now, take off your boots and your socks, your jeans and your underwear, and lie down on the bed.”
“You have people to––”
“After a fight?” He almost choked on the words. “You expect me to leave you after a fight?” His brows furrowed. “That’s not going to happen. That will never happen.”
“You came here to see these people and film a documentary and write your album, and I’m distracting you, and that’s not––”
“I swear to God,” he said, chuckling suddenly, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, “your superpower is arguing. You could medal in the Olympics.”
I scowled at him.
“But see that…now…” he said, sighing. “Your ‘Nick’s annoying the shit out of me’ face, that makes my dick hard.”
“Nick––”
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, and it was soft, but I heard the demand underneath.
“You really need to––”
“Please, baby,” he husked.
The pleading tone and his eyes in the dark—I wanted to fix it, for everything to be like it was, and in that moment I felt his pull on me for the first time, my desire to have him want only me. It would become necessary if I wasn’t careful.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled off my boots, one after the other, peeled off my socks, and then stood and worked open my belt.
He came around the bed as I shoved my underwear and jeans to my thighs, and he tore down the covers before he toppled me back onto the mattress.
“Not helpful,” I teased him, liking the look on his face, all heat and need.
Gently, like he was going slow on purpose, careful not to manhandle me, he took hold of the cuffs of my jeans and pulled them off, making sure to grab my underwear as well. Once I was naked, he tipped his head, and I did as directed and rolled over onto my stomach before lifting to my hands and knees.
“Nick, you—Nick,” I moaned as he opened his mouth on the small of my back, sucking, licking, kissing up my spine to my shoulder blades, moving off me for a moment before I heard the nightstand jostle when he yanked open the drawer, not bothering to close it again, the jingling of his belt buckle next, and then the rough sound of a jerked zipper. His movement was rushed, I knew without looking because I could hear it, the telltale sounds of undressing. His hand was suddenly in my hair, turning my head until he could reach my mouth.
“I need to make something clear,” he said hoarsely before he kissed me quickly. “You’re the most important person in my life.”
I kissed him then, slowly, wanting him to feel that we were in this, at least for now, together. His response was drugging and sensual, each pull on my tongue better than the last, and I moaned loudly when he slid two lubed fingers into my ass.
Impossible to ever be embarrassed about what I wanted when Nick had already shown himself to be everything I craved, a lover who would use me, give me pleasure, but not ask permission. Younger than me, so different in every way from me, and yet, already, he knew instinctively how to treat me—like I belonged to him.
When he lifted his mouth from mine, easing me facedown onto the mattress, holding me there a moment so I understood that was where I should stay, I splayed my hands on the sheets as he gripped my hip, guiding the wide head of his cock to my hole.
“I want,” he began, his voice guttural and low, “you to sit close to me from now on so I can talk to you between songs, see you,” he said as he pressed forward, stretching me around his shaft as he filled me up, never once slowing or stopping, the breach taking my breath away; there was pain and pressure and ache and desire all at the exact same time. Impossible to say where one ended and the other began. “Because when you’re close, when you’re right there with me, there’s this amazing grounding, settling, solid thing that happens in my chest. I feel good and well and whole.”
Fully seated, his groin flush with my ass, I shivered as he stroked my sides before he took hold of my cock with his right hand and stroked me slowly, his skin slipping over mine as I strained to press forward into his grip even as I pushed back onto his cock, my muscles relaxing a fraction each time.
“Flint was saying how dark and scary your eyes are, but to me…to me…all I see is how deep they are, and how beautiful, and I need you to look only at me.”
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.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Holy shit, I don’t, do I?” he said like that had just occurred to him.
When I laughed, he joined in.
By the time I finished talking to Brann, feeling lighter than I had in months, and returned to the kitchen, Gwen was up and pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Is this you?” she asked, holding up the carafe.
I nodded. “Must have it.”
Her smile was warm. “Oh, I agree, but somehow I’m the only one who can figure out that mysterious machine in this house.”
I chuckled. “That would not fly in my house. My mother taught me to do everything right along with her, washing clothes, folding them, cooking. It might be the whole only-child, no-one-else-in-the-house thing too. I was the only one she had to focus on.”
She nodded. “Your parents divorced when you were young?”
“They were never married.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be. My mother’s a force of nature.”
“I’m sure, but fathers are special too.”
“Oh no, of course. I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that there was never a time, ever, where I didn’t know I was loved madly, ya know?”
She stared at me a moment. “Well, that’s the most important thing for any child.”
I smiled at her then. “That’s what I mean.”
“You’re very charming, you know that?”
I snorted. “People would drop dead, hearing you say that,” I informed her, chuckling. “Hey, siddown. I’ll make you my world-famous brick on a plate.”
She sat quickly. “I have no idea what that is, but you’re offering, so I accept.”
Twenty minutes later, I put a plate in front of her with two eggs, sunny-side-up, in the center of two thick pieces of toast coated with melted cheese, and mushrooms on both sides, drizzled with honey and truffle oil—which I was thrilled that she had—and seasoned with garlic salt and red pepper flakes.
“It’s better with black truffles and different cheese, but you get the idea.”
She nodded, as her mouth was full.
“It was only after Mom and I got older that we discovered the black truffles, robiola, truffle oil, and brioche. When I was little, it was closer to this.”
“It’s yummy,” she said, swallowing and taking another bite.
I grinned at her and made myself a plate, and by the time people started appearing in the kitchen a couple of hours later, we were in the living room looking through photo albums.
“Mom,” Paul called over to her, “it’s time for breakfast.”
“Well then, you better get on that,” she said dismissively, flipping pages and showing me more people.
“Did you receive a stipend to feed us all this weekend?” I asked her.
“I did, thank you, but it really wasn’t necessary. We have so much food anyway.”
“Yeah, but it’s also a lot of water being used, so that’ll help offset those costs too.”
“You’re very thoughtful.”
“I’m a fixer,” I replied and realized, in spite of how often I’d said it, that maybe it was actually true.
Gwen had left me at some point, looking through albums on my own, and I stretched out on the couch just for a moment. The smell of coffee tickled my nose, and there were voices near, and people talking quietly.
My eyes drifted open, and I saw Tatum, Paul’s girlfriend, smiling at me from the chair she was folded into on the other side of the coffee table.
“Good morning,” she said, sipping from the mug she had clutched in both hands. “Or technically, midmorning.”
“Morning,” I mumbled, not awake yet but needing to get up, ready to roll off the couch.
“Wait,” Nick ordered, crossing the room to me from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand. “Stay there.”
I rolled over, sitting up so my back was against the arm of the couch, bending my knees to make room for him, he came and sat beside me, setting his cup down on a coaster on the table before twisting to face me.
“I have something to tell you.”
