Resistance (6 page)

Do I really care?

No. Maybe. Her coffee-colored eyes bore into mine. She blows a single strand of black hair from her face.

No, definitely no. I do not care.

“Sawyer,” I answer. She sidles up to me coyly and wraps an arm around my waist. Her body fits well with mine. She’s taller than Clara.

Shit
.

No
.

No comparisons
.

Not tonight
.

Her head rests just in the crook of my arm. “I think you’re decent so I'll give you one tip
: I like oral.” I’m shocked by her bluntness and boldness but I silently thank her for the tip because I find myself actually wanting to please her. I think I want to prove her wrong. I want her truth and her lie to be swapped, if only for a night. I lead her to the door and hook her elbow with mine as we head a block up and to the right towards the Hilton.
We walk in silence. It doesn't feel awkward, though. She seems completely at home in her silence. It puts me at ease. I don’t want to ruin the moment by saying something dumb. I don’t know her at all but I want her all the more because of that.

Then a thought slams into me
.

A simple kiss
.

It can make or break two people
, really. Just before the hotel, I pipe up, “We should probably kiss first.” I tug her to a stop. She stares at me quizzically.

Her bottom lip is sucked between her teeth as she stares up at me
.

Sexy.

“What if I don’t want to kiss at all?” she retorts finally. She's all sass. It makes me hard. So hard. Who is this chick?

“I’d say you’re lying.” I tangle my fingers in her hair
.

Soft
.

Like cashmere
.

Honeysuckle
perfume wafts from her in small puffs. It’s a great smell on her. Her hands grip my arms with strength and she looks wide-eyed but still playful. She’s taunting me. Lowering my head, I lick her bottom lip before drawing it out.

Heat
.

Shit
.

I didn't expect to feel a connection. I work my lips over hers, our tongues mingling. My dick is painfully hard
.

From a kiss
.

I’m a sucker
.

S.U.C.K.E.R
.

But her lips are divine. I’m not going to stop. I drop one hand from her hair down to the small of her back and pull her tightly to me. I need more. I want to feel more. Her fingers stroke the back of my neck at my hairline. She nips my bottom lip before smoothing it with her tongue. She plays with my lip ring, tugging on it playfully
, and I groan.

She’s fire.

Her hips press into mine. I pull back.

“Let’s check in
,” I all but pant. Her face is flushed with color and her eyes look dazed and confused.

Good
.

Mission accomplished
.

She nods her response and looks away. Her face drops ever so slightly. Distance, a gaping chasm of it
, forms between us. She's withdrawing. I do it all the time. Put up the protective barrier. Fight feelings. Well, good for her. I can’t wait to make her come. I can't wait to hear my name screamed from her lips. Fuck sloppy and disappointing. I’m not rushing this tonight. We will both get what we want, how we want.

Chapter 5

The room is quiet as we enter. Just our breathing can be heard. Unsteady breaths. I’m nervous. She’s different somehow. I just can’t figure out why. I watch as she walks to the TV and clicks it on.

“I have rules
,” she states simply. I don’t answer. I don’t think she really wants an answer. I wait. “No chitchat. No snuggling after. Don’t bother trying to pretend to make love to me. This is fucking. Got it?” She turns, hands on hips, and waits with her head cocked to the side.

“Yes
,” I huff.

She’s bossy. I like it
.

She flicks through the
TV channels until settling on one of the music stations.

Electronic. Interesting. Turning to me, her hands skim the hem of her shirt and with a quick motion it’s tugged off. Her bra goes next
, followed by her pants. Her eyes never leave mine. It’s as if she’s sizing me up, taking stock of my reaction.

Control, I realize. She needs it
.

It’s very apparent in her movements, her demeanor. Just panties. Plain white cotton panties. Somehow I’ve never seen anything more attractive. Her body is toned and muscled. A faint scar mars the skin at her waist on her right. A longer
, jagged one near her belly button. I want to touch them. Kiss them. She faces me in nothing but those damn cotton panties.

Hot
.

Her lips move almost imperceptibly. I squint to focus on them better. It looks like she’s counting. I advance on her slowly. I’m worried that if I move too quickly she might just vanish into a cloud of smoke. Her body language screams dominan
ce, confident control, rage, even. But her eyes, her eyes scream with sorrow and defiance. The two emotions clash, making it hard to read her. I can see what she
thinks
she needs and I know what I’m going to give her instead.

“Kneel
,” I state gruffly, my decision made. Her eyes widen before narrowing. I run a fingertip from her shoulder to her hip along her ribs. “Kneel,” I repeat firmly. She flashes me a fairly bitchy smile but complies. I grab a pillow from the bed and place it between her legs. Fully dressed still, I lay my head on the pillow between her legs as she kneels over me. Her expression is of wonder. I move my hand up her inner thigh to the heat between her legs. Pushing her panties aside, my fingers slip inside of her. I watch her face as a soft groan leaves her lips. I pump my fingers deeper then withdraw them slowly. She watches curiously.

I like that
.

She’s already so wet. Hooking my thumbs on either side of the plain cotton panties
, I pull, ripping them from the elastic waistband. I push the ruined material up her waist further, out of the way. I wrap my hands up and over her thighs and pull her down onto my mouth. Breath hisses from her as I lick the length of her slowly but firmly. Her hands rest atop mine, supporting her while kneeling. She tastes sweeter than I thought. I lap at her leisurely, focusing on every crevice and fold.

She’s strong
.

Her thighs contract, pushing upward but I keep her pressed firmly to my mouth until she starts to wriggle and buck
.

Nip. Suck. Lick. Repeat. God
, I love the clit.

She’s grinding my face so hard that I think I might suffocate. But hell, what a way to go. I release one thigh and spread her wide with two fingers. Sucking her clit hard
, I swirl my tongue around the bundle of nerves. She gasps and grinds down on my mouth, scraping herself along my teeth lightly. With a drawn-out shudder she finishes in my mouth. I lap at her center slowly while she comes down from her high, her muscles slack and useless.

“Fuck
...” she hisses between pants.

“On your back
,” I command. She thinks that was my A-game, but she's about to get a lot more. She narrows her eyes at me.

“I prefer to be on top.”
Her voice is firm and assertive.

“Get your pert little ass on your back. Now
,” I growl as she stands. Pushing down the ripped panties from her waist, she steps out of them as I sit up. She drops to her knees and pushes my chest hard.

“My turn.” Her hands run down my torso
, stopping at my belt buckle. Her fingers work swiftly and before I have time to form a thought she’s tugging my pants down around my ankles. Not that I don't want that perfect pout wrapped around my dick, but now’s not the time. I sit up, snake an arm around her waist, and roll, securing her under me. Her tattoo sweeps up colorfully just over the top of her shoulder. I want to lick it. I want to trace it in its entirety with my tongue. I want to see the rest of it. All I know is that there are gorgeous blossoms so far.

“
On your back I said,” I rumble, dipping my head to her neck and kissing.

She stills under me
.

Meeting her gaze
, I notice she looks like she’s mentally checking out on me. “Eyes,” I bark and her eyes snap to mine and come into focus. Her hands lift my shirt up and over my head. Her brown eyes have the strangest flecks of gold in them. They’re intoxicating. Her fingers feel like feathers torturing me as they explore every ridge and valley of my abdomen. A single nail traces the outline of the tattoo on my stomach. Her lips toy with my nipple piercings, making it hard for me to form a rational thought. Reaching back toward my ankles, I fish around my pocket for a condom and quickly put it on. Lifting her left leg up and back so that her knee rests near her head, I tease her entrance slowly until her lips part and the faintest sound escapes.

“More
,” she whispers.

If she wants more, she’ll get more. I thrust in fast and hard and draw out again slowly before pushing in deep again. Her eyes roll back and close and she adjusts herself to my rhythm. She’s tight and wet and gorgeous as she writhes underneath me. “More. I need more
,” she pleads, her voice small. More I can do. I move her right thigh to match the left and pin her down, my forearms on the backs of her thighs, and increase my pace.

Harder
.

Deeper
.

Shit yes
.

Her legs push up against me as she angles her hips to take me deeper. A groan
, or more likely a grunt, leaves me as I near the edge. She’s so brazen with her needs, her wants. I haven’t been this turned on in a long time. Her hands come up between her legs and wrap around my neck tightly. I’m done for as she grips me, just teetering on the edge. I slam into her as she finds her release with a low, feral-sounding groan. Her body relaxes as her pussy convulses around my dick, milking it. I push in a few more times before I come. She arches up and kisses me hard as I withdraw from her. She drops her legs to the floor, unfolding herself from me.

“I lied
,” she blurts out, still flushed.

“About?”

“One-night stands.” She grins, standing. Scooping up her pants, she inserts one leg, then the other, and tugs them up. Her tatt starts at her buttocks, twisting up her back. The gnarly trunk of a Magnolia tree spans into twisted branches. The work looks familiar. The colors are bright, the detail immaculate. Miller, perhaps? If Clara or I had done it, surely I’d remember her. It had to take a week at least. I want a closer look but she’s moving too much. She buttons her pants.

Commando. I watch from the floor as she finds her bra, clasps it
, and pulls her shirt back on. She’s leaving.

She’s really going to bail
.

I pull my boxers and jeans back up from my ankles
, realizing I never even got my boots off, and buckle myself up.

“That was really fantastic.”
She picks up her bag and turns to me. “I...I appreciate it.” She stumbles over her words. Her face registers determination, but something more, too. Regret maybe?

I can’t believe this chick
.

There is no way in hell that she’s just bailing. I mean, women don’t do that. It’s just...wrong
.

She’s broken. I slap my hand to my forehead and drag it
roughly down my face. How did I not notice before? She’s so broken. It wafts off her in thick, foggy sheets masked in honeysuckle and beauty. I take three easy strides and fold her into my arms snuggly. Her whole body tenses. Rigid. She looks up to me, startled, but stays still. I stare into her haunting eyes and wish that whatever was missing from her life I could provide. But I can’t.

“That was amazing.” I lean down
, tangling my hands in her long, silky hair and kiss her passionately. She instantly kisses me back, relaxing in my arms. Lips gliding over lips. Tongues dancing together.

There’s fire in it
.

The kiss is wicked
.

I want more
.

There is more here
.

I haven’t felt more in a long time
.

She tugs my lip ring again with her teeth and I pull back and look at her. She looks taken aback and flustered. “I want your number
,” I state, caressing her cheek with my thumb.
“No…” she replies, hesitantly looking anywhere but my face. I’m about to argue with her when she pulls out of my grip, opens the hotel room door, and steps out.

Just. Like. That
.

She didn’t even look back
.

That’s the thought I have as the door clicks shut. What in the fuck just happened? I know she got off. I know she got off twice. It was damn hot and our bodies clicked. How the hell did I just get played? I tug on my shirt, check the room for anything that may have fallen out of my pockets
, and head out, slamming the door behind me. Like a fool, I keep my eyes peeled for her down the long corridor and through the lobby just in case she comes back for me.

As I exit the hotel an older Harley cruises by at quite a clip. The engine rumbles as the tires grip the pavement
.

Damn
.

I love an old Harley. The way they sound, the power they give off, the feel of it vibrating between your legs as the wind whips around you. Shaking my head
, I make the walk two blocks to the shop where my bike is parked. I climb on to my very own Harley and start her up. At least
she’ll
still be around in the morning when I wake up.