Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

MARY

"Unless you are married to a man, do not do anything intimate with him. Men will find many ways to trick a woman, especially young ones, but you can't fall for them. You're better than that. You're cleaner than that."

Mom's voice is in my head as usual, but then I think about rolling around on the floor with Rust again. I wish I were better at reading him. Is this an innocent offer? Is he going to freak if I start getting steamy with him? Outside, there's another lightning strike, like the atmosphere is determined to heighten the tension.

I was going to say that it seems intimate , but that would be taking it too far.

"It seems difficult," I mutter.

He shrugs, and I feel my chance passing me by, but it isn't a chance. I shouldn't care. I don't . Oh, God, all I'm doing is lying to myself. My entire body is buzzing all over just being close to him.

"It's difficult for a woman," he says.

"Okay, sexist," I reply in a teasing note.

He shrugs again, expression impassive, but his fists are clenched. It's like he's trying to contain something. What? A sense of boredom? Is he frustrated? Give me something, Rust. "It's the truth, at least in my experience. But if you're attacked and end up on the ground, a few simple things could help you."

I swallow. "On the… ground?"

"The last place you want to be. Rule one is to run, but if some creep gets a hold of you, it's liable to end on the ground."

My heart is pumping so fast. I wonder if he knows what he's doing. I've never seen Rust with a girlfriend or heard of him having one through Brad. Maybe he keeps that part of his life a secret, or perhaps he's just not the dating type.

"Um…" No, no, no. "Okay."

Now, he visibly swallows, his thick neck shifting. He stands and then grabs the coffee table, handling the heavy wooden table like it's nothing. He moves it to the edge of the room and then walks over to my chair, looming over me. He's wearing gray sweatpants. Am I going nuts? He's hard . Or is that just his normal bulge? It sure is a thick outline. I wish I had more experience. It's like I can't trust myself.

"I'll put the blanket on the floor," he says.

I hand it to him, my body buzzing with lust, my heart hammering as our fingertips brush. He lays the blanket out and then nods to the floor. "Your main concern is not to let the attacker pass your guard. If he rushes you and you end up on the ground, stand up and run away if you can. If not, you'll need to wrap your legs around him and break his posture."

"Break his posture?"

"I'll show you."

He lies on his back, moving so fluidly for a man his size. I'm almost sure that his big bulge is hard. My sex is aching so much, my folds sending tickles deep inside of me, teasing my core.

"Pretend you're the attacker."

"Uh, okay."

I kneel awkwardly. Rust smoothly moves his legs forward, wrapping them around me. Then he reaches up and glides his hand over the back of my neck. I'm already panting, his warm touch and burning fingertips moving over my neck. He pulls me toward him.

"This is tricky in a real fight because he's close to you. If you can get him here, you can attack his eyes." His breath tickles warmly over my skin as he speaks. His body is burning up, just like mine. Brad and Mom seem very far away, as though the storm has closed us off. Mom's memory somehow fades. "You need to be shockingly violent to stun the person, then get up and run. I can show you how to get up properly, too. Do you want to try?"

He lets me go. I lean forward, my body so close to his groin, his hardness. My underwear is getting uncomfortable. It feels like it's all wet, sticking to me.

"Uh, sure."

He unwraps his legs and sits up, then nods to the floor. I lie on my back, staring up at him, thinking of all the times I dreamed of this. Each time, I knew it was wrong. Even if I touched myself thinking about him, I regretted it after. Repent , Mom would say.

"If you're attacking me, I don't think this would work," I mutter.

There's that curve again, but there's something different in his eyes this time, a glint that seems to imply a lot. He looks like a beast caged for too long, and now he's finally out. He's ready to take me. He is hard. He's bulging. He's nearly exploding for me. Only for me. What would he say if he knew about the crush?

"You're right, but it's better than nothing." He pauses. "We don't have to?—"

I cut in way too eagerly. "I want to."

"Good," he says, that new huskiness in his voice again.

He leans down. "If you wrap your legs around me here, it's called full guard. That's because I have to pass your legs—your guard—to get completely on top of you. That's called mount."

"Like… this?" I raise my legs, almost shivering in the steaminess, and wrap them around him. A tremor moves through him. He nods, clenching his jaw.

"But you have to lock your feet behind me. Cross one over the other. Then you can control me. Push me away if you want distance between us, or bring me closer if you want to keep me close so I can't generate power."

"Like this?"

I buck my hips, and then suddenly, he's right in front of me. He catches himself with his strong arms, staring down into my eyes. I can feel him now, grinding against my groin. He moans and pushes closer, staring at me as if with a question.

"Rust," I whisper. "I'm not imagining this, am I?"

"You should be," Mom screams in my mind. "You dirty girl. What's wrong with you? Think about your brother!"

"No," he says, leaning down even more. "It's real, but we shouldn't. I should stop us. I'm thirty-one, Mary. I've known you your whole damn life. You're just a?—"

"I'm a woman," I snap, "and I can make my own decisions."

My own mistakes, more like it. When it happens, I'm not sure who moves first. It's more like we're drawn closer by a force we should both ignore. We know this is evil, sinful, and wrong. We know it's twisted and would ruin Brad if he ever finds out.

Yet before I know it, we're kissing like I always dreamed. Our mouths are open, the pleasure blocking everything else out. He pushes his crotch against mine. The hardness rubs through our clothes and against my folds, smearing the pleasure across me. I move my body in time with his.

Stop, stop …

He leans back, his lips red from kissing, staring at me almost desperately. He's shown more emotion today than I've seen from him my whole life. He looks like he's about to tell me we have to stop. He'd be right, but then he says in a deep, throaty, starving voice, "I can feel how wet your perfect pussy is through your clothes."

That sets me completely alight.

"It's you," I whisper.

It's always been you.