14. Fourteen

I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, a towel slung low around my hips. Water still ran down my chest from my damp hair. The cool air raised goosebumps on my flushed skin.

Stu was sprawled on the bed, still fully dressed. One arm was thrown over his eyes, his chest rising and falling evenly. For a moment I just stood there, drinking in the sight of him. He looked different in sleep, the hard lines of his face relaxed, his sensual mouth slack. With his guard down, he seemed younger, more vulnerable somehow.

A pang went through me, an ache in my chest I couldn't quite name. Longing, maybe. For what, I wasn't sure. I knew only that I'd been feeling it more and more around Stu, and now it was stronger than ever.

I padded silently to the bed and slid into it next to him. The mattress dipped under my weight but Stu didn't stir, even when I boldly curled myself around him, one leg thrown over his hips. I half-expected him to wake up swinging, but he just made a soft, sleepy sound and turned his face into my damp hair.

My heart did a funny little flip in my chest. Carefully, hardly daring to breathe, I laid my head on his broad chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat filled my ear, slower and more soothing than I expected.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this close to someone without sex or violence being involved. It was a strange, almost unnerving feeling, like my skin didn't quite fit right. But at the same time, there was a rightness to it that I couldn't deny, a sense of peace I'd never known before.

Stu shifted beneath me and I tensed, ready for him to push me away. But he simply wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me closer. A soft sigh escaped him, ruffling my hair.

I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly overwhelmed. I didn't know how to handle these new, tender feelings welling up inside me.

All my life, I'd been told I was dirty, worthless, good for nothing but a quick fuck. I'd learned to harden my heart, to use my body as a weapon and a tool. Sex was just another form of violence, a way to dominate or be dominated. There was no room for softness, for intimacy or care.

But Stu had begun to chip away at my defenses from the moment we met, seeing through my bravado to the damaged kid underneath. And now, entwined with him in this dingy motel bed, I felt those walls crumbling to dust.

I wanted him, not just with the fierce, animalistic hunger I was used to, but with a deeper, soul-deep yearning that rocked me to my core. It wasn't just a desire for sex that kept driving me back to him, or our shared interest in killing.

It was more than that, something far more dangerous. Something that felt perilously close to love.

I nuzzled into the crook of Stu's neck, breathing in the musky, masculine scent of him. Beneath the ever-present tang of cigarette smoke, he smelled like leather and gun oil and something uniquely Stu. It soothed me even as it made my pulse race.

I wanted to sink into him, to lose myself in his strength and heat and never surface. It was a terrifying thought for someone like me, who'd learned early and often never to trust, never to need anyone. Needing people gave them power over you. It made you vulnerable, weak.

And I'd vowed long ago never to be weak again. I'd remade myself into someone hard and ruthless, someone who took what they wanted and to hell with the consequences. Caring about anything or anyone was a liability I couldn't afford.

But lying there with Stu's arms around me, listening to the steady drum of his heart, I knew it was already too late. Somehow, this gruff, dangerous man had worked his way past all my defenses, burrowing deep into my battered heart.

The realization was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I didn't know how to do this, how to navigate the minefield of things he was making me feel. All I knew was that I wanted him with a desperation that bordered on madness.

I pressed my lips against the scruff on his cheek. Not quite a kiss, just a press of skin against skin.

Stu mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and tightened his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. I held my breath, waiting for him to wake up and push me away. But he just sighed and nuzzled into my hair, still deeply asleep.

I couldn't believe he was letting me this close, that he seemed to crave my touch even in unconsciousness. It made something warm and unfamiliar bloom in my chest. For once, I didn't feel like a dirty whore or a broken toy. I felt... cherished. Protected.

Tears pricked unexpectedly at my eyes. I blinked them away furiously, burying my face in Stu's chest. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried. Probably not since I was a little kid, before I learned that tears got you nothing but more pain.

But these tears felt different. They weren't born of fear or despair, but of an overwhelming feeling I couldn't quite name. Gratitude, maybe. Or something even more dangerous that I didn't dare put a label on.

I knew I was playing with fire, letting myself feel this way about Stu. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested in anything more than fucking. And even if he was, men like us... we weren't built for softness. For intimacy or tenderness.

We were killers, both of us. Damaged beyond repair. The smart thing would be to keep my distance, to get out while I had the chance.

But I'd never been very smart when it came to Stu. From the moment we met, he'd had a hold on me, an inexplicable pull that kept drawing me back no matter how hard I tried to resist.

Lying there in his arms, I knew I was in too deep to walk away now. I needed him like I needed air, like a junkie needed his next fix. It was a craving that went beyond the physical, beyond the thrill of the kill.

He made me feel alive in a way I never had before, like I'd been sleepwalking through life until he woke me up. With him, I could be my true self - violent and vicious and so very hungry. He understood the darkness in me because he had it too, that yawning void that could only be filled with blood.

But it was more than that. He saw me, the real me beneath the swagger and the scars. And instead of being repulsed or afraid, he embraced it. Embraced me.

I'd never had that before. Never had anyone look at the ugliest, most broken parts of me and accept them. Want them, even.

It was intoxicating. Addicting. And I knew I'd crave it, crave him, until the day I died.

I could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in Stu's solid warmth, breathing in his scent. But eventually the need to see his face, to look into those icy blue eyes, grew too strong to ignore.

Slowly, carefully, I raised my head from his chest. In sleep, the harsh lines of his face were smoothed out, making him look younger, almost boyish. His lashes lay against his cheeks, twin smudges of soot, and his mouth was slack and soft.

I drank in the sight of him hungrily, committing every detail to memory. The faint creases at the corners of his eyes, the silver threading through the dark stubble along his jaw. A thin scar, paler than the surrounding skin, slashed across his right eyebrow. I wondered how he'd gotten it.

There was so much I didn't know about him, so much I yearned to discover. He was a mystery, an enigma, one I desperately wanted to unravel.

Almost of their own accord, my fingers drifted to his face, ghosting over the arch of his brow, the blade of his cheekbone. I half-expected him to stir at my touch, but he slept on, his breathing deep and even.

I let my fingers trail lower, tracing the strong column of his throat, the pulse beating steady and slow beneath the skin.

My fingers continued their slow exploration, trailing down Stu's neck to the broad expanse of his chest. I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the solid thump of his heartbeat beneath my palm. It was steady and strong, as unyielding as the man himself.

I splayed my hand over his heart, marveling at the sheer size of him. He was so big, so solid. I felt dwarfed by him. It should have made me feel trapped, caged. But instead there was safety in his bulk, a steadfast strength that called to something deep inside me.

Slowly, daringly, I slid my hand lower, fingers grazing over his flat stomach. The muscles tensed and jumped at my touch, even in sleep. I felt a thrill rush through me, heady and electric. I had never touched him like this before, with such bold intimacy. It felt illicit, forbidden. Thrilling.

I let my hand drift even lower, to the waistband of his jeans. I hooked my fingers under the edge, feeling the warmth of his skin, the wiry hair that disappeared beneath the denim. I wanted to follow that trail with my fingers, my lips, my tongue. I wanted to taste him, all of him.

A sudden, fierce hunger clawed at my gut. The urge to take, to claim, to possess. It was a feeling I was well acquainted with, but never like this.

My fingers trembled as they lingered at the waistband of Stu's jeans. I wanted so badly to slip my hand inside, to wrap my fingers around the hot, hard length of him. To feel him pulse and throb in my grip as I stroked him to full hardness.

I imagined the sounds he would make, the way his breath would catch and his hips would jerk. The salty musk of his arousal, the slick slide of skin on skin. I wanted to watch his face as I brought him to the brink, see his icy eyes glaze over with pleasure .

The image was so vivid, so visceral, that I could almost taste him on my tongue, feel the heavy weight of him stretching my lips. My mouth watered with want, a needy whimper building at the back of my throat.

I palmed him through his jeans, feeling the thick shape of him, hot and heavy even through the denim. He twitched against my hand, his hips shifting restlessly. A soft groan rumbled through his chest, but he didn't wake. If there was one thing I'd learned about Stu, it was that he was a heavy sleeper.

Slowly, I dragged down his zipper, tooth by agonizing tooth. The rasp of it was shockingly loud in the quiet room. Cool air hit my knuckles as I parted the denim, then the smooth heat of his skin as I slipped my hand inside.

He was naked beneath, his cock jutting thick and heavy into my palm. My fingers curled around Stu's length. He was already semi-hard, his cock twitching and swelling rapidly as I stroked him. The velvet-soft skin stretched taut over iron hardness, the thick vein on the underside throbbing against my fingers.

I squeezed him gently, savoring the weight and heat of him. He was so big, so thick. I could barely get my hand around him. The thought of taking him inside me, of being stretched and filled and claimed by this man, made me dizzy with want.

Slowly, I worked my hand up and down his shaft, my thumb swirling over the broad head on every upstroke. Drops of pre-cum beaded at the tip and I spread the slickness down his length, making my strokes smoother.

Stu groaned in his sleep, his hips rocking slightly into my touch. Encouraged, I tightened my grip, pumping him faster. His cock jerked in my hand, growing impossibly harder. The skin drew back from the fat, flushed head, shiny and swollen with arousal .

I stared at it hungrily, my mouth watering. I wanted to taste him so badly, to feel the weight of him on my tongue. Before I could second-guess myself, I ducked my head and licked a broad stripe up the underside of his cock.

"Jamie," he groaned, and I lifted my head, thinking he'd finally woken up. Instead, he was moaning my name in his sleep.

My chest tightened at the sound of my name on Stu's lips, rough and gravelly with sleep and arousal. He was dreaming about me, even as I touched him. Wanting me, even in unconsciousness.

It made me feel powerful. Desired. Like I was more than just a warm mouth or a tight hole to him. Like I mattered.

I licked him again, swirling my tongue around the swollen head of his cock. He tasted musky and male, salt and skin and something uniquely Stu. I lapped at the slit, savoring the bitter tang of pre-cum on my tongue.

Stu's hips bucked, seeking more of my mouth. I obliged him, sealing my lips around the tip and sucking gently. He groaned, low and deep, the sound vibrating through me. I took him deeper, relaxing my throat to let him slide into the tight, wet clutch of it. Above me, Stu shuddered, a ragged groan tearing from his chest, but his eyes remained closed, his face relaxed and serene.

I took my time worshipping Stu's cock with my mouth, savoring every inch of his thick length. I licked and kissed and sucked, exploring every ridge and vein with my tongue. I traced the flared edge of his cockhead, dipping into the weeping slit to lap up his essence. He tasted intoxicating, addictive, and I couldn't get enough.

I varied my technique, alternating long, slow licks from root to tip with quick, fluttering flicks of my tongue against the sensitive underside. I sealed my lips around him and sucked gently, hollowing my cheeks to increase the suction. Then I relaxed my jaw and took him deep, swallowing around his thickness until he nudged the back of my throat.

Through it all, Stu slept on, lost in dreams even as his body responded eagerly. His cock pulsed and throbbed against my tongue, leaking steadily now, the slick fluid easing the glide of my lips. His hips twitched and rolled slightly, instinctively seeking more of my mouth's wet heat. Soft moans and grunts of pleasure rumbled in his chest, my name a reverent litany on his lips.

"Jamie...fuck...so good..."

Hearing Stu lost in erotic dreams of me inflamed my own desire to a fever pitch. My cock ached between my legs, hard and dripping, smearing pre-cum against the sheets.

I lost myself in the taste and feel of Stu, my world narrowing to the hot, hard flesh sliding between my lips. Time seemed to stretch and distort, minutes bleeding into hours as I lavished his cock with attention. There was no urgency to my movements, just a slow, sensual exploration as I mapped every inch of him with my mouth.

Occasionally, Stu would stir restlessly, his breathing turning rougher, his hips rolling up to seek more friction. Whenever he verged on waking, I gentled my caresses, slowing my pace until he settled back into deeper slumber. I wanted to draw this out, to make it last, this hushed gray space where I could worship him so intimately without his walls and reservations.

As the shadows lengthened and shifted across the room, I lost myself in cataloging every nuance of Stu's reactions, learning his body as I'd always yearned to. I memorized the salt-musk taste of his pre-cum, the way his cock jumped when I fluttered my tongue just under the head .

Lost to the haze of pleasure, Stu slept on, his chest rising and falling steadily even as his hips began to rock in shallow thrusts. He pumped lazily into my throat, seeking more of that slick, perfect heat.

I could tell he was getting close by the way his thighs tensed, his balls drawing up tight to his body. Pre-cum flooded my mouth, turning my saliva slippery and salt-bitter.

Stu's whole body began to tense, coiled tight as a spring, his abs flexing and releasing under my splayed hand. Suddenly, Stu's whole body seized up, his back arching off the bed as a hoarse shout tore from his throat. His eyes flew open, hazy and unfocused with the force of his release.

Thick, bitter spurts of cum exploded across my tongue as Stu shuddered and jerked beneath me. I swallowed instinctively, my throat working to take down every drop of his release.

Stu's fingers clenched reflexively in my hair as his orgasm crashed through him, gripping me tight as he poured himself down my throat. I held him deep, savoring the pulsing heat of him, the way his cock jerked and throbbed against my tongue. I swallowed again and again, milking him dry until he collapsed back against the pillows with a shuddering groan.

For a long moment, I simply rested my head on his hip, my lips still wrapped around his softening cock. I felt dazed, drunk on the taste of him, the intimacy of what I'd just done. My own dick throbbed almost painfully between my legs, my balls drawn up tight and aching. I was so turned on I could barely breathe through it, my skin feverish and too tight.

Slowly, reluctantly, I let Stu's cock slip from my mouth. It fell against his belly with a soft, wet sound, shiny with my saliva. I watched, transfixed, as a final pearly drop of cum welled from the tip and slid down the shaft. The urge to lean in and lap it up was almost overwhelming.

Dragging my gaze away, I glanced up at Stu's face. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, chest heaving with labored breaths. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, darkening the hair at his temples.

As I watched, Stu's eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. He blinked slowly, as if surfacing from a deep dream. When his gaze finally settled on me, there was a rawness there, a vulnerability that made my breath catch.

"Jamie?" His voice was a rasp, rough with sleep and satiation. "What...?"

I licked my lips, tasting him there. "You were dreaming," I said softly. "Moaning my name."

Stu's brow furrowed as he struggled to orient himself, to separate the dream from reality. I saw the moment it clicked, his eyes widening fractionally as he took in our intimate position, his softening cock still slick from my mouth.

Color crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks. It was a fascinating sight on a man usually so composed. I couldn't help but stare, transfixed by the evidence of his pleasure, the lingering blush of release.

"Fuck, kid." Stu dragged a hand over his face, looking dazed. "You didn't have to... I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh." I pressed a finger to his lips, savoring the rasp of stubble against my skin. "I wanted to. I've wanted to for so long."

I leaned in and replaced my finger with my lips, kissing him slow and deep. Stu made a soft sound of surprise, but then he was kissing me back, his mouth opening under mine. The taste of him only inflamed my desire, knowing I was marking him, claiming him from the inside out.

Stu' s hand cupped the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he held me to him. There was a desperation in his kiss, a raw hunger that echoed my own. We devoured each other, lips and teeth and tongue, breathing each other's air.

I pressed closer, draping myself over Stu's larger body. I could feel every inch of him, hot and hard against me. My aching cock nestled into the groove of his hip and I couldn't resist grinding against him, seeking friction. Stu groaned into my mouth, his hand tightening reflexively in my hair.

I tore my lips from his to trail open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his throat. I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of him, of sex and sweat and something uniquely Stu, was intoxicating. I licked at his salty skin, savoring the flavor of him.

"Jamie," he rasped, his voice gone gravelly with renewed arousal. "Fuck, Jamie."

Hearing my name fall from his lips like a plea pushed me over the edge. A shudder ripped through me as I came, untouched, just from the sound of Stu's wrecked voice and the delicious friction of his body against mine. Ecstasy crashed over me in waves, whiting out my vision and stealing the breath from my lungs. I buried my face in Stu's neck to muffle my cries, my hips jerking erratically as I spilled between our bodies.

It seemed to go on forever, the pleasure cresting and breaking and cresting again until I thought I might shake apart from the force of it. Through it all, Stu held me close, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other stroked soothingly up and down my spine. He murmured soft, reassuring words into my hair as I shuddered and gasped my way through the aftershocks .

Finally, I collapsed against him, boneless and spent. My heart thundered in my ears and I could barely catch my breath. I felt wrung out in the best possible way, my body humming with satisfaction.

Stu's arms tightened around me, holding me close. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his skin against mine. In that moment, I felt more connected to him than I ever had before, our sweat-slick bodies entwined, the evidence of our mutual pleasure sticky between us.

"Don't leave me, Stu," I whispered against his skin. "You can't ever fucking leave me. Not when you made me yours."

I clung to Stu, my face still buried in his neck, breathing him in. I felt raw, flayed open, like he'd reached inside my chest and cupped my furiously beating heart in his hands. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, this soul-deep need. I'd never felt anything like it before, this aching, desperate connection.

Stu's fingers carded through my hair, his blunt nails scraping gently against my scalp. "I'm right here," he murmured, his deep voice rumbling through his chest and into mine. "And I'm not going anywhere without you."