Authors: Jade Allen
****
Chelsea didn’t quite
suppress the yelp of surprise that came out of her lips as Johan reached out
for her, pulling her towards him with a strong hand. He brushed his lips
against hers, his arms coiling around her waist, lifting Chelsea up off of her
feet slightly to press against him all over. “Did you know,” he murmured, his
lips tickling hers as he spoke, his hot breath tracing against her skin, “that
you look absolutely adorable when you’re curled up asleep?” Chelsea smiled, her
skin tingling as Johan’s hands slipped and slid along the curves of her body,
caressing and teasing her.
“Have I ever seen you
asleep?” she asked; the question seemed distant—there were so many other, more
important things to think about somehow. Johan chuckled lowly, sliding his
hands underneath the hem of her blouse, making Chelsea shiver as he tickled her
ribs. Chelsea draped her arms around Johan’s broad, strong shoulders, arching
into him, pressing her body against his.
“I’m not nearly as
cute as you,” Johan told her. His hands moved up to cup her breasts through the
fabric of her bra, and Chelsea moaned softly as he gave the mounds of flesh a
careful squeeze. Her nipples hardened, straining against the thin, lacy fabric.
It was all too easy for Chelsea to remember what Johan looked like naked, the
sight of his muscular chest, the flat ridges of his abdomen, deep creases at
his hips and the delicious—irresistible—look of his hard cock standing proudly
erect.
“Who—are you—kidding?”
Chelsea asked, gasping as Johan’s lips left hers, moving down to the column of
her throat. He kissed and nipped at her skin playfully, teeth grazing a spot
just underneath her jaw where her pulse fluttered. She trembled, shivering as
if she had been plunged into ice water, although Chelsea’s body was only
getting hotter and hotter as Johan’s fingers twisted and rolled her nipples,
sending jolts of sensation directly to her already-wet pussy. Johan’s tongue
swept against her skin, and Chelsea’s breath caught in her throat as she tilted
her head back, giving him free and ready access to her sensitive skin.
Somehow her shirt
disappeared, falling to the floor before Chelsea could think of what was
happening; her bra followed, and she realized that Johan was leading her
through the suite, half-carrying her in his strong arms as their clothing fell
away piece by piece, trailing after them through the living room. She dragged
Johan’s face up to hers, kissing him hungrily as she let her hands wander over
the planes of his chest and back, exploring the topography of his body as
eagerly as she had the first time they’d had sex. Johan lifted her up into his
arms almost effortlessly, carrying Chelsea the last few steps into the bedroom
part of the hotel suite. He didn’t even bother to close the door behind them,
instead bringing Chelsea directly to the bed and almost throwing her onto the
soft, unbelievably luxurious surface. He reached down, gathering up the fabric
of her skirt in his hands and tugging the waistband sharply down over her hips.
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day,” Johan told her, his bright eyes
darkening as he drank in the sight of her.
“We just had sex this
morning,” Chelsea said, chuckling lowly as she squirmed and shifted on the bed,
helping him to remove her skirt as he pulled it down along her legs. He tossed
the garment over his shoulder, not even looking to see where it landed, and the
next moment Chelsea moaned softly in pleasure at the feeling of his body
covering hers as he pinned her to the blankets.
“Ever since then,”
Johan murmured, kissing her hungrily on the lips. His hands left her body, but
Chelsea could feel him moving and shifting on top of her, feel the heat of his
body as he wriggled out of his thick, fitted jeans. Her breath caught in her
throat at the feeling of the hot, hard ridge of his erection pressing against her,
thin layers of fabric the only thing separating her from what she wanted the
most. Johan rocked his hips against hers, rubbing against her, a hot rush of
pleasure flooding through Chelsea as the friction crackled against her
clitoris. Chelsea wrapped her legs around Johan’s waist, pushing down against
him, her hands wandering over his broad back eagerly. No matter how many times
they had had sex—and in how many different locations—Johan’s body was still a
revelation to her, even days later. Chelsea gasped and panted as Johan hooked
his fingers in the elastic waist of her panties, dragging them down off of her
hips. She fumbled at the front of his boxer-briefs, her fingers not quite
catching the waistband, as she shifted and squirmed underneath Johan, hungry to
feel his body against hers.
It seemed like only a
moment later when Chelsea felt the heat and hardness of Johan’s cock brushing
against her slick folds, sending a tingle of sensation through her. He held
himself up, looking down into her face, smiling slightly as he rocked his hips
slowly and steadily, teasing her with the feeling of his cock just barely
grazing her, slipping against her drenched labia. “Do you want it?” he asked
her playfully, pulling his hips back when she pushed down to try and rub
herself against him more thoroughly. Johan’s smile deepened as he evaded her.
“You’re such jerk,”
Chelsea said, her voice taking on a growling note of frustration.
“Answer the question,”
Johan suggested, once more pressing up against her only to withdraw when
Chelsea tried to get better contact. “Tell me you want it, and I’ll give it to
you.” Chelsea squirmed, and Johan caught up her wrists in one hand, lifting her
arms over her head and pinning them there against the mattress. “All you have
to do is ask…” Chelsea groaned in frustration, struggling against his strength.
Johan nipped at her bottom lip, carefully evading her attempts to break the
hold on her wrists, to rub against him.
Chelsea let out a
little scream of frustration, twisting her hips away from him, pouting up at
Johan as she fought against the need that consumed her. “You’re such an
asshole,” she told him, shivering as she felt his cock brush against her yet
again. “I’m not going to do it. You’re not going to make me beg.” Johan
chuckled lowly, his lips dragging against her jaw.
“You’re not patient
enough to hold out, Chelsea,” he murmured lowly, nibbling sharply at the pulse
point just below her ear. Chelsea shuddered, gritting her teeth as she fought
against the absolute need to feel him inside of her. She wasn’t going to give
in, she told herself; she wasn’t going to let him win. Chelsea tried to breathe
slowly and deeply, but every movement brought the warm, sharp-sweet scent of
Johan’s body into her nose, made parts of her body brush against him, sending a
thrill of even deeper need coursing through her.
“Fuck! Fine—yes, yes I
want it,” Chelsea said, panting. “I swear to god if you don’t stop teasing me,
I am going to find some goddamned way to get out from under you and—and—lock
myself in the bathroom.” Johan laughed, bringing his mouth up to hers, kissing
her hungrily. He reached down between their bodies, and Chelsea moaned against
his lips as Johan guided the tip of his cock up against her, rubbing against
her clit for just a moment. He shifted, and Chelsea’s breath caught in her
throat as Johan thrust inside of her slowly, pushing past the initial
resistance of her body. He rocked his hips, the thick, hard heat of his cock
rubbing along her inner walls, filling her up inch by inch as he moved deeper
and deeper inside of her.
Johan let go of her
wrists, holding himself up on his elbows, and Chelsea fell into his rhythm,
pushing her hips down to meet his, taking him deeper and deeper. She kissed
everywhere her lips could reach, licking his sweat-salted skin, writhing
against his body as pleasure crackled through her veins like static. Chelsea
moaned out as the tip of Johan’s cock barely brushed against her g-spot, a
hot-and-cold jolt of sensation shocking her. She let her hands explore the
planes and contours of his body, caressing and kneading, as she twisted and
shifted her hips underneath him; every thrust brought his pelvic bones up to
rub against her clit, every third push of his hips made her shiver as the tip
of his cock barely rubbed against the pleasure center inside of her.
They moved together in
an irresistible rhythm, exploring each other’s bodies, touching and tasting,
and Chelsea felt her pleasure mounting every moment as the friction built up
between their bodies. She clung to him in near-desperation, her hips rising and
falling, twisting against his body, her fingernails digging into his shoulders
as she felt herself coming closer and closer to orgasm. “It’s worth it—isn’t
it?” Johan murmured lowly against her lips. “I always make it worth it, don’t
I, Chelsea?” She shook her head, resisting his words even as her body tingled
all over with sensation. Johan pulled her bottom lip between his teeth,
carefully worrying it as they moved together as one, sweat gathering and slithering
over their skin as they both heated up.
Chelsea cried out as
Johan began to thrust into her steadily, the tip of his cock rubbing back and
forth against her pleasure center, every movement of his hips building the
friction against her sensitive clit. She fought to hold back, wanting to savor
the pleasure coursing through her, wanting to deny the subtle, sexual power
that Johan had assumed over her; but in the span of a few heartbeats, she felt
the last of her self-control breaking, and Chelsea shuddered as wave after wave
of sensation worked through her, blanking out all thoughts. She heard Johan
murmuring something in a language she couldn’t understand, heard his breath
hitch as her muscles tightened around him in erratic spasms, but all Chelsea knew
was the pleasure flooding through her. She hit the apex of her climax as
Johan’s cock began to twitch inside of her; the spasms of pleasure had only
just begun to abate as the hot, sticky-slick gush of Johan’s orgasm rushed into
her, even as he let out a long, low groan of pleasure. They moved together
mindlessly, pushing their hips together, touching and clutching at each other,
and Chelsea was only barely aware of her waning orgasm as she slipped into a
warm, dark, humming doze, sagging against the mattress, her arms and legs
remote and nerveless.
****
Hours later, after
they had gotten their things out of the car, Chelsea found her mind once more
turning to the questions that had plagued her earlier. “You should probably
visit the salon here,” Johan suggested, sitting back on the couch while she
flipped through the channels, trying to find something she wanted to watch.
“Hm?” Chelsea glanced
at him; Johan had another book in his hands, and not for the first time she
considered how utterly bizarre it was to think that a guy who carried multiple
weapons on his person as a matter of course, who only had about three or four
changes of clothes in a backpack to his name, somehow also had half a dozen
books.
“We’re putting
distance between us and the guys after you,” Johan said, putting the book
aside. “But it would be even easier to evade them if you changed your
appearance a little bit.” Chelsea glanced at him sharply.
“The salon downstairs
would probably cost several hundred dollars,” she said. “And in case you
haven’t noticed, I’m unemployed at the moment.”
Johan smiled. “They
charge it to the room automatically; no need for you to use your card.”
In fact, Chelsea
realized that from the moment they had left her house days before, Johan had
paid for everything, one way or another; usually with cash, when they got gas
or food on the road. “I would go with you, of course. There’s no point in you
being undefended.”
“Just how different
could a salon make me even look?” Chelsea was not entirely sure why she was
resisting the suggestion so much—a mixture of her doubts about Johan, her sense
that everything in her life was changing, an irrational clinginess to one of
the few things that hadn’t changed. Underneath that, there was a little voice
in her mind, a subtle insecurity, that said that Johan didn’t find her very
attractive. Even though he’d had sex with her every day since they’d fled her
apartment, and Johan had told her she was cute, or gorgeous, or beautiful—the
comment he’d made that she should never be permitted to wear more than a towel
came to mind obediently in the man’s low, almost growling murmur—Chelsea had
been plagued with doubts her entire life; no amount of compliment from even a
gorgeous man like Johan was going to undo the years of taunts.
“You would be
surprised how much they can do with a haircut, color, things like that,” Johan
said, shrugging. “Even if they start flashing a picture of you around, most
people don’t pay that much attention to details.” Chelsea worried at her bottom
lip, pulling it between her teeth for a moment while she considered.
“How are you affording
this?” she asked him, putting down the remote to the TV and pinning Johan down
with a level gaze. “The hotels, the cars, the gas? I have never traveled this
well in my life, much less while fleeing people who want to kill me.” Johan
shrugged off the question, looking unconcerned.
“I have an expense
account. When we’re sure they’re not chasing you anymore, I’ll request funds to
get you an apartment, and to get you new documentation—ID, bank account, all
that. You’ll basically be in a kind of witness protection program until Rosen
goes to trial.” Chelsea frowned.
“But who’s paying you?
This isn’t a federal thing—if it was, we’d be staying in cheaper hotels and
eating more fast food.” Shadows flickered across Johan’s bright eyes quickly;
so quickly that Chelsea almost missed it.
“We have funding. You
could get a full makeover in the salon and it would be a drop in the barrel.
Don’t worry about it.” Chelsea brought her tongue up along the roof of her
mouth and clucked it against her teeth.
“Fine, if you want me
to change the way I look, I’ll change the way I look,” she said tartly. “After
all, I let you talk me into destroying my phone, I let you talk me into leaving
town, I let you talk me into eating, sleeping, and fucking on your schedule…”
she stood up quickly as her anger flowed to a sudden flashpoint she hadn’t
realized she was approaching, snatching up the remote control and turning the
TV off before letting the device clatter onto the coffee table once more.
Johan’s eyes widened and her stared at her with something almost like alarm.
“Let’s go down to the salon so they can make me look like a completely
different person who isn’t running away from her entire life!”
Johan stood in a
quick, fluid movement that made Chelsea start. In an instant, it seemed, he was
only inches away from her, looking down into her eyes. “If you don’t want to
fuck me, all you have to do is say no,” he told her lowly. “If you don’t want
to sleep, then don’t sleep. If you don’t want to eat, don’t eat. If you don’t
want to go to the salon, don’t to go.” Johan’s hands dropped to her shoulders,
sliding to her arms. “My only job is to get you away from the people who want
to kill you and keep you safe,” he said, his hands tightening on her slightly.
“If you want to make that harder for me, you are more than welcome to. If you
want to sulk and starve yourself, or if you want to be an insomniac, be my
guest.”
“I don’t even know
what I’m running from! I don’t know what I’m running to! All I have is your
word that you’re supposed to protect me. Until what—four days ago?—I had never
even met you before.” Chelsea twisted and pivoted, breaking his hold on her
arms and stepped away from Johan, scowling at him. “I barely know you, I barely
know anything about what is going on in my life, and you keep popping
these—these—
suggestions
to me. ‘Let’s have sex to kill time.’ ‘Let’s get
rid of your phone.’ ‘Let’s change your appearance.’ ” Chelsea waved her hands
about wildly, feeling the anger thrumming through her body, the doubts
exploding out of her in a torrent. Everything she had been thinking and yet not
letting herself think rose to the surface of her brain. “I’m fucking terrified,
Johan! And you’re just sitting there, driving the car, or reading a book,
or—or—getting me off like nothing is going on at all. Because you know
everything, don’t you?” Chelsea glared at him. “You probably know the damned
size of my underwear.” Johan’s eyes flickered with amusement, his lips
twitching.
“Seven,” he said
lightly. Chelsea inhaled sharply. “I helped you pick up your clothes
yesterday.” Her hands curled into fists, her fingernails digging into the skin
of her palms.
“You know what? No. I
am
not
going to the salon. I am—” she felt a jolt of fear; she had no
idea where she was, she had no access to the car—at least not as long as Johan
had the keys—and she believed him that there were, in fact, people after her.
Where could she realistically go? “I am going into the bathroom, and I am going
to enjoy being by myself for however long I feel like it.”
“Sure,” Johan said,
eyeing her with a mixture of amusement and irritation. “Like I said, you can
sulk if you want to. Sulk as long as you want to, in fact. Stay in there all
night.” Chelsea let out an irritated little scream, breathing in deeply and
staring at him for a long moment.
“I am locking the
fucking door behind me,” she said, stomping barefoot in the direction of the
master bathroom. Chelsea slammed the door shut behind her, only remembering
afterward to twist the lock on the knob before she threw herself onto the rim
of the bathtub. A sharp jolt of pain shot up from her buttock to remind her
that anger would not make her invulnerable to injury, but Chelsea ignored the
lingering ache, inhaling and exhaling slowly through her nose as her anger died
down from a rolling boil to a simmer.
I am not sulking,
she thought
bitterly.
I need time to myself. I need space. I need to not be in the
company of some gorgeous man who makes me forget that my entire life is in
fucking shambles right now.
Chelsea stood, pain rippling through her
buttock and leg as she began to pace the small floor of the bathroom, unwilling
to let go of the irritation she felt. She was going to stay in the tiny room until
she figured some things out, she told herself. However long that was. Even if
it did mean sleeping in the bathtub.