CHAPTER 17

Living Life With No Need of Brakes

H enry leans forward and catches my mouth, and I'm once again caught off guard by how warm and soft his mouth is. It's so easy to let him pull you in through his kiss, like a siren luring a sailor with their song. I'm utterly lost in him.

He grips on to my hips as his tongue slips into my mouth, anchoring me to the couch. I move my hands from his face down to where his neck meets his chest; I fist his shirt in my fingers, pulling him closer to me, if that's even possible.

"Beth." Henry tries to break the kiss, but I know what he's about to say, and I'm not having it. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, making him groan in pleasure and restraint.

"Beth," he says again, his voice barely rising to a whisper, but the urgency is still the same as before.

"What?" I lean back temporarily, but I don't let go of him. Neither does he.

"Are you sure?"

I nod manically. "Fuck yes."

"Good." He places his lips back over mine, then unexpectedly picks me up bridal style, making me gasp into his mouth.

"Where we going?" I ask, looking around as he carries me through doors and down hallways.

"I'm not going to fuck you for the first time on a couch. You deserve a bed."

That's oddly romantic. "You can be such a softie," I croon.

He narrows his eyes, giving me a warning glance. "Don't patronize me."

A giddiness rises in my chest. "Why not? I like pushing your buttons."

He chuckles darkly. "You really are a brat."

We finally make it to my bedroom, and only when my back meets my mattress, with Henry hovering over top of me, do I reply, "What are you going to do about it?"

His heated gaze leaves mine, running over my face, neck, and chest; I feel a blush creep up my skin wherever his eyes land, and I don't think I've ever felt so sexy in my life. The lust and need in his eyes tell me how attractive he finds me.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asks, and his words feel like a caress against my skin.

"When you misbehave, you get punished, don't you?" I whisper, biting his lower lip, sinking my hands into his hair.

Using his knuckles, he brushes my cheek and temple, his voice becoming gravely and rough, just like the five o'clock shadow that's spread across his jaw. "I wouldn't have pegged you as a sub."

I shrug. "Perceptions can be misleading. Now stop talking and make me yours."

By the erection he has rubbing against my core, I'd say he likes that idea. He grabs onto my sports bra and yanks it up, exposing my boobs to his hungry gaze, and just like last time, he carefully detaches my pump and sets it aside on my nightstand before starting to tease me, his hot breath caressing my nipples and the valley between my breasts.

"You said you're willing to try anything once—are there any exceptions to that?"

"No non-con," I say with hesitation, arching my back so my breasts get closer to his teasing mouth. "No choking either."

He nods. "I agree. I don't like degrading my partner. Is that okay with you?"

I give an impatient whine, wiggling under him. "Yes, now will you touch me already?"

His eyes travel up my chest to my face, then he tsks softly. "I'm the one that gives commands here. There's another part of your body that I want to worship before I get to the rest, and you'll just have to be patient."

I'm about to make another comment, but then I notice Henry is sliding down my body and taking my sweatpants with him. I fall silent and listen to his instructions without protest, watching him with an eager expression as he undresses my bottom half and bares my pussy to his gaze. He spreads my legs, admiring me for a moment, then with a ravenous growl, he buries his face between my thighs, licking me from the bottom of my vulva to my clit.

"Christ on a cracker," I breathe, locking my legs over his shoulders.

"Are you going to come for me, Beth?" he asks, sucking onto my clit.

I give a nonverbal string of grunts and whines, which Henry rightfully interprets as a yes. He alternates between kissing and sucking on my clit, very quickly sending me into the beginnings of a climax. I dig my nails into his scalp, urging him to keep going, but in a wicked turn of events, he stops his ministrations after my reply, once again hovering his body over mine.

"Why did you stop?" I demand, frustrated and aching for release.

"I want you coming on my cock," he tells me, unhooking my sports bra from its front clasp and tossing it aside with the rest of my clothing. "But since you keep trying to make demands, I'm gonna make you work for it."

Before I can ask what he means, he slides off the bed and begins undressing himself. He rips his shirt over his head, then starts on his pants, saying quietly, "Get on your hands and knees."

I really like this dominating side of him. Panting and still aching from before, I do as he says, sticking my ass out towards him and resting my weight on my elbows. I look over my shoulder at him, finding him naked and stroking his dick, which is already leaking precum from the tip. He swipes that little bead again and begins unwrapping a condom, but I stop him.

"I have an IUD, and you said you haven't been with anyone in years…"

He drops his act and raises a brow my way, seeking confirmation. "You are okay not using a condom?"

I nod. "I want to feel you."

He grins, stepping behind me and rubbing his throbbing erection against my folds, making us both moan. He gives my ass cheek a small smack, not enough for it to sting, and then gives the same treatment to the other. "Is that okay? Or do you like it harder?"

"Harder," I whisper, and when he smacks me again, I arch into his touch, loving the muted sting his hand produced. "Just like that."

I feel his cock nudge the entrance to my pussy, and with one hand on the small of my back and the other rubbing my still-stinging ass cheek, he starts to sink into me.

"Fuck," he curses, pausing about halfway in, letting my body adjust. "How does it feel?"

I frantically nod, leaning back against him. "Keep going."

He continues pressing into me until he's buried to the hilt, and instead of fucking me, he bends over me until his chest is pressed against my back and his mouth is near my ear. "Are you going to keep telling me what to do, B?"

I shake my head, leaning my forehead against the rumpled blankets. "No."

"You don't get to come until I say so, and if you continue to be a brat or you disobey me, I'm going to take it out on your ass. Now, if I do something you don't like or you want to stop, use a safe word of your choosing."

"Dracarys," I tell him, earning a chuckle.

"You want your safe word to be the phrase Daenerys Targaryen used to order her dragons to burn her enemies?"

I shrug. "I tried thinking of words I wouldn't say during sex, and that was the first thing that popped in my head."

Snickering, he places a kiss on my shoulder, then he gets off of me, resuming his earlier position of standing behind me. He twirls my hair around in his fingers until it's wrapped around his fist, then he pulls gently, using my hair as a handle. "Are you ready?"

I've been ready for three years. "Yes."

I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "I haven't even moved and yet your little pussy is trying to strangle my cock. Are you close, B? I can feel how wet you are, how aroused that clit of yours is."

Who knew Henry had such a dirty mouth? "No, I can only come with your permission," I reply.

He gives a low hum, slowly pulling out of me, only to plunge back in. "Good girl."

He starts a steady pace, one that drives me absolutely up the wall. His cock is massaging my inner walls and my G-spot in a toe-curling way, but his speed is so fucking slow it's preventing me from building up to my own release, which is exactly what he wants. This is punishment for my comments, for ordering him around.

"You're such a fucking bastard," I hiss, looking at him over my shoulder. In answer, he slaps my ass hard, no doubt leaving an angry red handprint behind.

"What was that, B?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

"You're going too slow!" I growl, trying to fuck myself on his cock, but he's holding me in place by my hips.

The next time he plunges into me, he does so almost violently, snapping his hips into mine. I jolt from the impact. "Is this what you want, B?"

He continues to fuck me at this brutal pace, his one hand clutching on to my hair while the other takes a couple more swings at my backside. All the while his balls are slapping against my clit, making my orgasm go from distant to right within reach.

He pulls on my hair until I'm forced to kneel on my knees, with my back against his chest. He lets go of my hair and explores my body with his hands, caressing my breasts, my ribs, my naval, but he actively avoids my clit. His lips trail kisses up my neck and shoulder, and I lean my head back against his chest to give him full access. With all of his touches and the brutal rhythm of his cock, I'm right on the edge, but my body seems to take Henry's directions to heart, never plunging over the cliff because he hasn't given the word that I can.

I don't think I've ever been this turned on before. I feel almost dizzy from it, like I might pass out from the pleasure building inside of me. I want to give all the credit to H's bedroom prowess, but part of what makes this moment so monumental is him being the person I'm sharing it with. For so long, I thought I'd never get the chance to do this, to be connected with Henry in every way possible, to see him at his most vulnerable, to be worshipped with his hands, mouth, and body.

Dropping all games and attitude, I tilt my head until my forehead is resting against his neck. I place a small, chaste kiss on his jaw, reaching my arm behind me to wrap around his neck, holding him against me. "I love you."

He cups my cheek with one hand while continuing to explore my body with the other; as he tilts my face up to capture my lips with his, his nimble, scarred fingers finally touch my clit, and within seconds, I'm coming so hard my vision blacks out for a moment. While I'm caught up in the throes of my own climax, Henry reaches his, groaning my name as he comes inside of me.

Henry leans his forehead against mine, cradling my exhausted body against his. "I love you, too, B."

"Are all of your tattoos religious?" I ask, trailing my fingers along the depiction of an angel reaching out with his hand towards a falling Lucifer; it stretches over the left side of his chest, made entirely of black ink.

He and I have been cuddling in bed for the past half an hour, making random chatter here and there, but mostly just holding one another. It's been nice, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me, and I can't help but ask him about his tattoos. I've always wanted to, but I thought he would turn me down.

He shakes his head, grabbing my fingers and placing them over a tattoo of a blue sparrow under his right collar bone. "A blue sparrow is one of the many symbols of the Navy."

He then places my hand on a tattoo on his left arm. "This is a purple iris—my mother's birth month flower—then here is a white water lily." He drags my fingers to the tattoo above the iris, hidden under his bicep. As I stare at the beautiful flowers, something occurs to me: water lilies are my birth month flower.

"You got a tattoo for me?" I ask, awestruck.

He gives a shallow nod.

"When?" I whisper.

He begins circling the skin of my hand with his thumb, our hands both covering the water lily. "Do you remember last December, your pump got crimped and you couldn't get your blood sugar down? I'll never forget looking behind me and watching you collapse from your chair onto the ground; the panic I felt in that moment will stay with me forever. I didn't know what to do, so I took you to the emergency room and they were able to help you."

My site, where my pump's tube connects to my body, crimped when I injected it and my tube into my stomach. Since it was a nine-millimeter site, it bent pretty badly inside of me. They had to remove it for me.

I nod, snuggling in closer towards his body. "Yeah, I remember."

"It was one of the worst days of my life," he confesses, bringing our combined hands up so he can place a kiss on my knuckles. "By that time, you and I had become friends. I knew I cared about you, but watching you pass out, seeing you in the ER, knowing I couldn't do anything to help you…I hadn't felt so helpless and afraid since my mother was taken. You had told me what can happen if a diabetic goes into DKA, and while I was in the waiting room, I was obsessing over the possibility that you might go into a coma or worse. When they finally let me back to see you, and you smiled at me like my presence comforted you…I knew I loved you. But if I'm honest, I was in love with you long before that. I just couldn't admit it to myself until I thought I was going to lose you."

I place a kiss on his chest, right below his blue sparrow. "And so, you got my birth flower tattooed next to your mom's," I conclude for him.

He nods once, leaning his forehead down to rest against mine. "I hadn't felt any kind of love since my mother, and when I realized my feelings for you, I swore I would never voice how I felt. I didn't believe you felt the way I did, which was one reason for my silence, but the main one was because I didn't want you to be used against me by my enemies. When I got compromised, when I looked into Johnathon Harrison's eyes after I had murdered the only family he had left, I knew that my worst fear was going to come true. All he would have to do is make any sort of threat against you and he would have me completely under his power. I saw history repeat itself, and I panicked, just like I did that night. I wasn't able to protect my mother, and I worried I wouldn't be able to protect you either."

"But that wasn't your fault." I pull my face away from his, cupping his jaw so he keeps his gaze on me. "You were a child, Henry, a twelve-year-old boy. There wasn't anything you could do. And when you found her, there was nothing you could have done to prevent her from overdosing. If something were to happen to me, I know it wouldn't be because you couldn't have helped me. None of this was your fault."

He shakes his head, his eyes falling shut and his jaw clenching. "If it wasn't my fault, then I have to accept that there are things out of my control, that some things are truly up to God's will."

I give him a melancholic laugh, brushing his cheek with my fingertips. "When I was diagnosed, I felt the same way. Back then, I still held on to some of my religious beliefs, and I desperately looked for any reason why God would have given me an illness that couldn't be cured. My grandparents would tell me that it was all part of God's plan, but his plan fucking sucks. Why does he get to ruin my life just because he created us? God is no different than my grandparents, people who thought like they could decide how I felt and thought just because they were blood. So, I decided I wouldn't believe in God, and I hoped that renouncing my religion would make me immune to the things that were out of my control, but it didn't. I am still a diabetic and my parents are still dead. I can't control everything, but what I can control is how I live my life. I choose to look at the world with a glass half full, to use my skills and time to help others, and to leave my comfortable job to take a chance on you."

H opens up his eyes and tears blur his vision. With a blink, a couple drops fall down onto the pillow under our heads. As another one slides down his cheek, I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, trailing water across his skin. "You can choose to forgive yourself and accept that you can't control everything. It won't be easy, but what kind of life are you living if you don't?"

He licks his lips, sucking in an uneven breath. "Can you hold me?"

I smile, pecking his cheek. "Turn over."

I spoon him from behind, like I have done every night we've shared a bed, and rest my cheek between his shoulder blades, loving the content sigh he gives as he settles in my embrace.

"You don't have to bear all the weight alone, H," I whisper, kissing his back tattoo, which is a large snake slithering along his spine. "Don't you think it's about time you let someone protect you?"

He grabs on to my hands, holding them against his stomach. "From what?"

"Not all enemies are sentient beings. The most cruel and unforgiving are the ones that live inside our heads. You and I can fight all of them off together."

He pauses for a moment, soaking in my words, then I hear him give a faint murmur. "Together," he agrees.