Running Free (11 page)

“I need to see more of you, Frankie. Your tits are making my mouth water but that’s not what I crave to taste.”

A tiny mewl whines out of her but she wastes no time shimmying out of her jeans. Once we’re both standing in nothing but our underwear, I let out a groan and stalk over to her. When I reach her, I seize her wrist and press her palm to my cock.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” I hiss out a second before my mouth connects with hers.

My hand slips down into her panties and my middle finger finds her hot, throbbing clit. Her body is jolting with each breath she takes. I grunt when her thumbs hook my boxers at the waistband and she pushes them down over my cock. The second she takes it in both of her hands, I nearly forget to breathe.

It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this. So fucking long.

“Jesus, Frankie,” I murmur against her lips, “I could come just like this.”

My words send a flare of determination through her veins and she starts jerking me off hard and fast. I continue my assault on her clit but it’s not enough. I want her in my bed screaming my name.

“In the bed. Now,” I bark out and gently push her away from me. “Not like this, beautiful.”

She nods and climbs onto the bed, shedding her black scrap of panties along the way. Her creamy white ass is a fucking vision as she climbs into the bed. With her on her elbows and knees, I ache to drive into her from behind. To yank on her hair and fuck her like a beast. I want to spank her ass and bruise her back with my teeth.

Frankie probably likes it rough.

And I do too.

But for our first time…

I need to see her face.

Climbing up behind her, I sit on my knees behind her, admiring her ass a moment longer before I speak. “On your back.”

She hesitates for a second but does what I say. Her features are contorted with confusion, but when I place my hands on her knees and jerk them open, her eyes roll back into her head. I can tell she’s waiting for me to fuck her but I have other needs first.

I need to see what she tastes like.

Bending forward, I inhale the scent between her legs — so clean and uniquely her. My mouth waters to lick her pussy like a fucking ice cream cone. Darting my tongue out, I tongue her throbbing clit first which earns me a shriek of pleasure before I lap up her dripping center.

She’s more decadent than any ice cream I’ve ever tasted. I’ve only put my mouth here on one other woman and I didn’t want to drink up the very essence of who she was like I want to with Frankie. With Frankie, it’s like she laced her pussy with some drug and I can’t get enough of it. I pleasure her with my mouth at such a frenzy that I don’t realize she’s orgasmed until she’s shuddering wildly on the bed and begging me to fuck her.

Not wasting a second, I climb on top of her and slam my needy cock into her dripping sex. Her scream is otherworldly and it awakens some internal beast within.

She’s mine.

Frankie

Stars. So many stars.

I try to blink them away but they keep glittering around me and it’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Just like the man who’s barely sunk his bare cock inside of me. The thought alarms me but not enough to drag me out of my haze. The blackness warms my mind, the Doberman inside me begs to shift. But I long ago learned how to control my shifting. Once, with Luca, I did shift during sex. He’d later laughed it off. But for me, it was awful and embarrassing. At least now, I can control it and I won’t be freaking Gun the fuck out any time soon.

“Frankie,” he groans as he begins a slow assault of his dick pounding into me.

My eyes blink open to see his handsome face drinking in my features. His dark brows are furrowed in determination and his full lips are barely parted. I knew he would satisfy me the moment I had to use two hands to fist his large cock.

But he satisfies the animal in me too.

The one that’s imprinted herself onto his soul.

“Kiss me,” I mutter as I spread my legs as far as they’ll go.

I want him deep inside of me, stretching me to my limits, owning every part of me. He grunts before his mouth is on mine. My fingernails dig into his back as he slams every hard, massive inch into me. It’s not brutal like Luca was — it’s all-consuming and addicting. It’s too much, yet not enough.

My heart surges with a happiness that’s never flooded through me before. Gun fills each and every gaping hole in my soul. It’s confusing but I crave it nonetheless.

“More, Gunnar,” I beg.

I’m so wet that every time his skin slaps my clit, I jolt with pleasure. I want to come this way but I’m not sure I can.

“Harder. Do it harder,” I urge breathlessly against his lips.

My words fuel him on and he thrusts into me like a madman. A teasing curl of intensity knifes its way through my lower abdomen and I know in a few seconds I will orgasm.

“Gun, don’t stop!”

He sucks onto my bottom lip and I cry out, my climax seizing every nerve in my body. The blackness storms through me again and it takes every shred of me to keep my Doberman at bay. That would be a mood killer if I lost total control.

Heat suddenly gushes into me and fills me deep inside.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

I knew he didn’t have a condom on and I didn’t care. A part of me — the sated animal within — still doesn’t fucking care. But the sane part of me blanches in horror.

What have I done?

“Oh, fucking fuck,” he grunts, his thrusting slowing to a stop.

I expect him to freak out or yell at me for not reminding him to put a condom on. In fact, I
want
him to yell at me. To tell me I’m a selfish, reckless bitch. Anything to solidify the stupidity of my behavior.

“I’m so sorry.” My words are barely a whisper and tears threaten my eyes.

His mouth is on mine again and he kisses me without urgency. I expect him to soften inside me but he starts to rock again into me. I’m still wet and dripping from his explosive orgasm.

I should be pushing him from me — telling him we just fucked up badly.

I should be forcing him to drive me to the drugstore to buy a morning-after pill.

I should be at least ransacking his room looking for a condom.

Instead, I’m stupidly moaning again — letting him take me soft and sweet. I’m melting with each gentle kiss he presses on my lips and cheeks and neck.

This man is too much. So different than any other man I’ve ever encountered. He’s gentle yet fierce. Protective yet not overbearing. And he’s utterly sinful to look at.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, another orgasm teasing me just out of reach.

“Frankie, let me love you.”

I know what he means. Let me make love to you. But my mind hears it differently. The part of me that’s imprinted to him — the part of me that’s never loved or been loved by anyone — nods her pretty little head in agreement.

“Yes, love me.”

My words are lost in his mouth and soon his finger slips between us, touching me in all the right spots.

I need to stop him.

To not let this happen again.

Be fucking mentally strong tonight, Frankie!

“Gun, stop… ”

But he doesn’t stop. He kisses me with all the emotions I’ve never felt from another person before. They flood through me and soothe me.

“You don’t have a condom on,” I whisper. It’s like I don’t want to ruin the moment but it needs to be said.

“I know.”

I jolt at his confession and he chuckles in a way that drives me wild with need. His assault on my clit intensifies and I slip my fingers through his thick hair. When his face buries into my hair and his lips find my neck, I lose it.

The stars sprinkle my vision again, chasing away the blackness, and I climax, his name a repetitive melody on my lips.

It’s when I feel his heat once again pour into me that I’m snapped back to reality.

“Shit!” I hiss, “Gun, you just fucked me twice with no condom on!”

He lifts up and flashes me a cute lopsided grin that does nothing for calming my libido. “I trust you wouldn’t sleep with me if you were crawling with diseases. And I’ve only ever slept with my ex-wife.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I don’t care about that. I’m talking about you probably just got me pregnant. Twice.”

He bellows with laughter but makes no move to unlink himself from my body. With each passing second that his cock softens from within, more of his seed pours from me.

“I’m pretty sure I’m sterile.” His words are said with a smile but I don’t miss the sadness behind his eyes. I should be screaming with joy but instead, I’m…

Disappointed.

Frankie, cut the weirdo shit!

“Pretty sure or really sure? Which is it, Gun?”

He sighs but finally pulls out of me. I watch his lean body, rippling with muscled movement as he saunters into the bathroom. When he returns with a rag to clean me up, he’s somber.

“Carla and I tried for years, hádanka. A test proved that my sperm count was incredibly low — to the point that it’s doubtful I’ll ever have children. Doctor said if I did, it would be a miracle from God.”

Hádanka. That word again.

His words should calm my beating heart but instead, all I can focus on is the sweet foreign word.

“What does that mean?” I ask as he sets to cleaning us both up. Once he’s finished, he slides into bed beside me and pulls my naked body to his.

“Hádanka is Czech for puzzle,” he says in a soft tone. Even though my cheek is pressed to his chest and he kisses the top of my head, I sense the smile in his voice.

“I’m a puzzle?”

I want to be offended but he says it with such pride and love that I know it is something special. Instead of flying off the handle, I wait for his explanation.

“When I was a kid, long before Mom got ill, she’d take me to a Czech restaurant in downtown Chicago every Friday and Saturday night. At the time, I thought she was simply in love with the spätzle and strawberry kolacky,” he says, a chuckle reverberating through him. “Turns out, she waited tables there for a second job. I thought she was helping out the old couple who worked there because they were friends of hers — and they were — but the real reason was that being a single mom was hard. She struggled to make ends meet. Working at the restaurant brought in some extra income that teaching didn’t. And since she had nowhere to leave me, she’d set me up in the breakroom with all the salt and vinegar chips I could eat.”

His memory of his mother brings a smile to my face. She was so pretty and her love for him radiated from the picture. Despite having lost her as a teenager, he knew a love like I never experienced.

One day, I want to be like her. I want to love my own children like she loved Gunnar. The thought sends a quiver through my body. I’ve always hated the idea of kids — the thought of bringing them into this harsh world seemed cruel. But now, with Gunnar stroking my hair and telling stories of his mother, I find myself imagining a future where I can be like his mother.

The thought should scare me but instead, I am comforted.

“Anyway, a young boy should not be left to his own devices for hours on end. And after one too many times of kicking my ball into a crate of dishes or throwing my frisbee into the fryer, the owner’s wife, Mrs. Buranek dropped a stack of old puzzles onto the table for me.”

“Hádanka.” The word coming from me doesn’t sound as beautiful but I like it anyway, especially after hearing the story.

“So, after that, I became obsessed,” he tells me fondly. “Before long, Mr. and Mrs. Buranek had all of their elderly friends donating their used puzzles for me to put together. Even though I was young, I’d power through them. I loved puzzles. I still do.”

He says the last part with a bit of hidden meaning and my skin heats. I’m a puzzle to him but he clearly enjoys the hell out of them. The thought warms my heart and I shiver with excitement. For once in my life, I’m happy and considering a future beyond myself.

“You’re cold. Let’s get you under the covers. I’m going to turn off all the lights and check on Cutie Pie.”

After he leaves, I crawl under the covers and am nearly asleep when I’m licked in the face.

“Ugh, get your horror story off me,” I complain with a giggle.

Gun gasps in faux shock. “Cutie Pie is the cutest thing either one of us has ever had the pleasure of seeing. You should bring Curly Sue next time to play with him.”

He sidles in behind me once the room has gone dark and Cutie Pie curls up in front of me. I want to tell him what I am. Explain that the little girl he clearly adores is in fact Curly Sue. But it won’t do any good. He won’t understand — can’t understand — and I’m not ready to lose him yet.

Yet.

The thought chills me and I shudder once again.

As if trying to warm me to my soul, Gun wraps his massive arm around my middle and draws me closer. Bitter tears well in my eyes. I don’t cry. I don’t fucking cry.

But my tears make a liar of me and slip soundlessly out.

I’ll never have this. A man who loves me. Children to love unconditionally. The warmth of a supportive soulmate until I take my dying breath.

I’m destined to be alone.