Black On Black (Quentin Black Mystery #3) (42 page)

I nodded, glancing down him. The bandage didn’t show under the jacket, but I wondered if he needed the dressing changed by now, considering the plane and sweating and whatever else.

“Do you need help?” I said, still looking at his body, not his face.

When he didn’t answer, I glanced up, and saw him staring at me again.

That time, I got the impression he almost didn’t know what to do with me.

It hit me suddenly that I had my own apartment to go to.

“Hey,” I said, feeling my face flush. “Maybe I should get out of your hair. Let you rest for awhile...” I backed towards the door as I spoke, reaching behind me for the handle without looking away from his face. “You can call me later, when you get a chance to...”

I trailed when he followed me.

Before I could collect my thoughts, he placed his hand on the door behind me. He rested his weight on it, which pretty much meant I wasn’t opening it, since it opened inwards.

“I need a shower,” he repeated.

When I glanced up, his gold eyes met mine, his face still as a statue.

“I need help, Miri.”

Smiling a little, I shook my head, averting my gaze. “Sure you do.”

He took my hand without another word.

I found myself following him out of the foyer and into the hallway leading to his bedroom and the attached bathroom. We’d only walked a few steps when he stopped again, coming to a dead standstill in the corridor. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he turned, meeting my gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something.

That look on his face grew, a kind of confusion mixed with frustration...
 
maybe indecision.

Then he caught hold of my arms.

Before I could catch my breath, he pulled me closer, lowering his head.

Then he was kissing me.

He was breathing harder before his mouth even reached mine. Once it had, he pressed the whole length of his body against mine, gripping my arms so tightly I writhed against him, right before I wrapped my hands around his upper arms in return. He paused for a breath, then kissed me again, pressing into me harder.

Seconds later, he had my back up against the wall. His whole body clenched, every muscle taut. When he leaned into me, sliding his legs between mine, he was already hard.

He kissed me longer that time.

Even so, I felt that restraint there again, so tangibly I let out a frustrated sound, right before I shoved at his chest with one hand.

“Are we doing this again?” I said, breathless. “Really? We’re going to do this fucking
dance
again, Black?”

My words came out angry. Furious, almost.

He met my gaze.

His pupils had dilated, leaving the gold swallowed in black. He studied my face, and I felt that restraint on him sliding, even before he let go of my arms, wrapping an arm around my waist before he buried his other hand in my hair.

He kissed me again, harder that time.

That time, I felt a lot more of him in the kiss.

He let out a low groan when I kissed him back, and then he had me up against the wall again, pressing into me with all of his weight. I gasped when his hand roamed lower, gripping my ass before he pulled me flush against him.

We parted a few seconds later, gasping.

“No.” He shook his head, meeting my gaze. He closed his eyes, then he was staring at my mouth, his expression pained. “I don’t want to...
 
I don’t want to play games with this either, Miri. Your uncle wasn’t wrong, though. We should talk. We should talk about this...
 
before, I mean...”

His words nearly ran together.

Pain slid off him as his hands tightened, and then he pressed me harder up against the wall, lowering his head to kiss my throat. His fingers were unfastening buttons as his mouth and tongue tasted my skin, as he massaged my thigh with his other hand. He groaned once he got the shirt halfway open, then he yanked downward, ripping it open the rest of the way with his fingers. I heard buttons pop before he arched his body against mine harder.

He was massaging the front of my body then, looking down at me, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending down to kiss my throat. He let out another heavy sound, sliding a hand between my legs. “Fuck...
 
we’re not going to talk about this, are we, Miri?” He let out another pained sound, his fingers unfastening the top of my jeans. “We should talk, Miri. We should talk. Please...
 
tell me if you want to talk to me...”

He pressed against me, his voice deepening, growing rough.

“...If you’re looking for me to be the one with self control right now...” He shook his head. “I’m not that guy, doc. Not anymore. Please don’t get angry at me later because I can’t be that guy. If you want me to slow this down, you need to tell me. You need to tell me now, doc...”

I clenched my fingers in his hair, forcing him to meet my gaze.

I fought to think through the pain coiling and colliding between the two of us, but I couldn’t make myself care enough about any of it. I had my other hand on him, massaging him through his pants and he let out a heavier groan, slamming my back up against the wall.

“Miri,” he groaned. “Please...
 
fuck. Please...”

“No,” I told him, shaking my head. “No, we’re not going to talk.”

“Are you sure?”

Looking up at him, I nodded, fighting to control my breathing. “Yes. I’m sure. Unless you want to talk. I’ll talk if you really want to, Black...”

He shook his head.

There was a loaded-feeling pause.

Then I felt him let it go for real.

He wrapped his arms around my back, crushing me against him when I continued to massage him, his tongue and lips on my throat, moving lower...

... then he hooked my leg...
 
and we were on the floor, his arm cushioning my head.

He tugged the last of the shirt off me, yanking down on my pants, then my underwear.

He sat up long enough for me to help him get his shirt off, too.

He didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time we undressed.

He winced in real pain a few times from his wounded side, but when I tried to look at it, he caught hold of my hair, leaning his mouth back down to mine. He kissed me harder each time, blowing heat over me in that way of his, distracting me back towards his tongue and fingers and hands. The urgency on him made it impossible to think, impossible to care about anything else.

The message was clear, though.

He didn’t give a damn about being wounded.

He had both of us naked before I’d admitted to myself what was happening, and then he hung over me, his expression concentrated, almost lost-looking with pain.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He nodded, wincing when I massaged his chest.

For the first time since we started, he wouldn’t look at me.

“The hole in your side. You’re going to tear your stitches...”

But he was already shaking his head.

“That’s not it,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t give a fuck about that. I’m extended. I can’t...” He opened his eyes, meeting my gaze with half-lidded eyes. He was sweating I realized, his eyes glazed. “I can’t enter you like this,” he managed. “Miri...
 
just give me a minute, please...
 
please...
 
I feel like I’m going to fucking die if we don’t do this...”

Pain blanked out my vision at his words.

Once I could see again, I watched his face, saw his mouth firm as he concentrated. Pain hardened his features as he closed his eyes, worsening mine all over again.

Then, slowly, his expression smoothed.

He let out a low sound, somewhere between moan and a growl.

“Gaos
...” He groaned, kissing my face. “I have it down. I don’t know for how long...
 
but I have it down...”

I pulled on him in that way I couldn’t explain, tugging on his arms with my hands. “Yes.” That urgency flared in me, bringing a hard pain to my chest. “Yes...
 
Black. Please...”

When I gripped his hair in my fingers he let out a heavier gasp.

Then he slid into me to the hilt.

I let out a broken cry. I couldn’t help it. I wrapped my legs around him, mindful of the bandage on his side. Even so, a pang of guilt hit me when I remembered it...
 

At least until he slammed into me harder.

Then I forgot about his wound entirely.

I groaned that time, arching my back.

He did it again, harder, and both of us cried out. Propping his weight up on one arm, he gripped my hip in his other hand and arched into me again, letting out a heavy sound when he went deeper from the changed angle. I found myself looking up at him, at his arms and chest, clenching and tensing above me.

He was beautiful. Not just physically––although he was beautiful in that way, too. There was something else about him, something I could feel more than see, even as I watched him express it through his physicality. It brought up such an intensity of feeling my reaction bordered on violence. Gripping his shoulders, I met him halfway the next time and he let out a heavier sound, clenching his hands on me.

He stopped us before we would have done it again.

Pain came off him, so intensely I groaned.

I realized he was still holding everything back, and that urge to hit him grew stronger again, almost uncontrollable. He might have even felt it because he held me down, grasping my wrists in his fingers. Leaning his forehead against mine, he groaned again.

“Gaos,
Miri...” He kissed my face with hot, heavy brushes of his lips and tongue. His voice shifted downwards, low, lulling in that way that drove me crazy with him before. “Show me. Please...
 
I’m going to have to pull out if you don’t...”

I didn’t know what he meant. The words didn’t make sense to me, didn’t string together in a way my mind could comprehend.

He kissed my face again, pressing a hot cheek against mine.

“Show me...” he murmured. “Show me...
 
I don’t know how to do this. Don’t make me pull out. I want to fuck like this...
 
please...” He groaned, his voice heavier, more demanding. “Please, Miri...
 
please...”

He flashed an image in my mind of that hard part of his cock extending and all at once, I understood. Without waiting, I arched my back deliberately, changing the angle of both of our bodies. I pulled his body into a different angle, too.

I showed him in his mind and he groaned.

I showed him his side of things, showed him where he needed to be, how the motion worked, the friction, and he groaned again.

He angled deeper into me and groaned louder.

When he found the right spot, shifting so that his cock fell into place, into that notch that felt almost like one puzzle piece fitting into another, he let out a heavier cry, nearly losing control. He broke out in a sweat, gripping my back with one arm.

“Gods...” It was nearly a yell that time. “Miri...
 
fuck...
 
tell me.”

“It’s right,” I murmured against his ear. “You’re in the right place. You can relax. It’s right, Black. You can let go...”

I felt him fighting to do as I said.

His whole body clenched and I started massaging him when he released my wrists, massaging his shoulder and neck in my hands, his back, his chest. I pulsed warmth at him, willing him to relax, pulling on him even as I tugged him deeper inside me. When he couldn’t make himself let go, I pulled myself further up against him, grinding up on the end of him. Once there, I pulled on him slower...
 
slower still...
 
more sensually...

There was a smooth, silent glide.

Excruciating. Frictionless.