Taking What's His(34)

She didn’t. She sucked harder, taking the rest of him in her mouth. He almost died, right then and there, from sheer pleasure. That’s how fucking amazing it felt.

He turned into his driveway on two wheels, screeching tires and not giving a damn. Once he slammed the truck into park, he arched his hips up, fucking her mouth. He didn’t hold back, not because he didn’t care, but because he was too fucking gone to think. To worry.

Moaning, she sucked harder, scraping her teeth over the head and running her fingers over his balls, taking all he gave and then some more. He banged his head back against the headrest, sending even more pain coursing through him, and let out a string of curses he didn’t even hear or mean to say.

For all he knew, he released a jumble of words that made no sense at all. It wouldn’t be the first time. There was a reason he held himself back in bed.

Once, when he’d first returned from the war, he’d lost control. After he’d come, he’d collapsed on the bed next to the faceless woman he’d been with that night. She’d looked at him as if he was a monster. Apparently, his words had gotten mixed up in the heat of the moment, and it had freaked her out. She’d been out of his life within two minutes. He’d never lost control again.

Not until now.

He collapsed against the seat, her mouth moving over him until he was sure he’d go insane from the pleasure. Her sweet tongue brushed against him, and the way she moved her fingers, touching in all the right places, would surely be his cause of death. He couldn’t think of a better fucking way to go. He arched his hips again, tugging on her hair. “I’m gonna come.”

She nodded and kept going. He hadn’t expected her to want to swallow…but he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain. He watched her mouth move over him, clenched his jaw, and came explosively.

Words flew out of his mouth, and he dropped his head back against the seat. She pulled off of him slowly, her mouth leaving a trail of torture behind. He hissed and tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her up. “Enough.”

Glancing away, he took a deep breath. He didn’t want to see the look on her face, in case he’d lost his shit. From the corner of his eye, he watched her as she sat up, holding her hand over her mouth. He could feel her bright hazel eyes on him. She stayed silent, which was pretty damn damning, in his opinion. He’d fucked up. Again.

This was why he was better off alone, damn it.

“Lydia…” He took a deep breath and formed his thoughts as best as he could with his head throbbing like a bitch. And then he looked at her. She hadn’t moved. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you. If you want me to take you home…”

She blinked. “Scared me? Why would you have scared me?”

“Well, I…uh…”

She rested her hand on his arm. “There’s nothing you’ve done, or could do, that would send me running. I was simply quiet because I was thinking how that was one of the hottest moments of my life, and I never want to forget a second of it.”

“You’re too good for—” He took a shaky breath and rubbed his temples. There was so much he wanted to say to that, but he couldn’t even finish a damn sentence. His mind had quit on him, and now he was going to make a fool out of himself. “Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, turning away from her. He didn’t need to see her pity, or fear, or anything, really. He just wanted to crawl under the covers and hide from the whole world.

Just wanted to disappear, until he felt human again. “I have to…I…”

“Lie down?” she asked softly.

“Yes. That.”

Her door closed behind her, and for a second he thought she left him. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. But then his opened, and her hands were on him. “Come on. I’ll help you inside.”

Disgust at what he’d become hit him hard. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t the guy who needed help, damn it. And her doing this was both amazing and frustrating, all in one. He didn’t want to be this guy with her. He wanted to be the guy who blew her mind with amazing orgasms. The guy she missed when he was gone. The guy she needed…

Not the guy who needed her.





Chapter Eleven

Lydia watched him, forcing herself to stand completely still. He sat in the driver’s seat, an array of emotions crossing his features. She knew, deep down, that he hated feeling the way he was right now. That he was two seconds from snapping, and she didn’t want to be the one that pushed him too far. But he obviously needed help.

She didn’t know what was wrong with him, or why he’d shut her out like that after she’d gone down on him, but she knew one thing: He was in pain, and he needed help. And I need to give it to him.