My hand came up and a finger traced the spiral before I even knew what I was doing. As soon as my fingertip touch his flaming hot skin he jerked. My eyes flicked up to his face, to find his eyelids closed. He was sucking in air like he was drowning. I smiled to myself and returned my attention to his tat.
I don't know how long it took to trace every line, every curve, every pattern. I hoped he had a large hot water cylinder, and then I scratched that thought, and decided I didn't care. Shower, no shower. What did it matter? Touching this, seeing this,
feeling
this was all there was left in the world. At some point he must have opened his eyes again, he'd probably been watching my progress for some time, I don't know. My attention had all been for the artwork painted so meticulously across his body. I hadn't looked at his face again, since that first glance.
But eventually his left arm came up and wrapped around the back of my body and undid the clasp of my bra. I removed it and let it fall to the ground distractedly, returning my fingers to the tattoo on this glorious man. His chest rumbled with amusement.
"You wanna get one of your own, Abi," he suggested on a laugh.
"Can't run and hide with bodywork," I pointed out. It was too identifying, especially the type of design I'd like.
"If you weren't runnin'?" he asked, starting to undo the buttons on my jeans.
I nodded my head, moving on to trace his Tiki, making him work my jeans with only his left hand.
"What would you have, red?" he whispered, last button coming undone.
"An eagle," I said, still tracing. "On my back so the bullseye can never return."
His fingers stilled, left hand wrapped around the top of my jeans, right halfway between where it had been hanging loosely during my study of his arm tattoo and my waist - where he was obviously going to grab my jeans to haul them off me.
He turned me around slowly and I wondered if he took the bullseye statement literally, thinking I had one painted there. His finger slowly tracked down my spine and came to rest in the dip above my rear. He then grasped both sides of my jeans and panties, pulling them down my legs. I toed off the boots and socks, and kicked the clothes free, but didn't turn back around to face him.
The heat of his body hit me before his chest did. I knew instantly he was naked too. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me close against his hard frame, then his lips trailed lightly across my shoulder, over to my back.
"You'll have an eagle here one day," he said, as though making a promise.
My eyes closed and I leaned my weight back into him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck and then sucked skin between his lips. I felt his teeth graze me, then a lick of his tongue followed. He was such a tactile man, yet when you saw him stepping out of those shadows, you'd believe nothing could touch him, nothing could reach him. You'd be wrong.
My head fell back against his pecs as his tongue continued to trace its own pattern across my skin. His hands rested on my waist, fingers splayed in the front, thumbs nestled over the small mounds of my hips at the back. They rubbed softly. I felt his erection branding me from behind. He didn't push into me, didn't seek any sort of stimulation or relief. His sole focus was tasting me. At my neck.
I'd never experienced anything so sensual as this before. And he hadn't even turned me around, or touched my breasts. The temptation to do so must have been huge, but Ben Tamati was in no hurry. Quite content to take his own sweet time.
Eventually, after he'd licked and sucked and kissed every available spot down my neck, across my shoulder blades, and part way down my back, he reached forward and opened the shower stall door. Steam billowed out and engulfed us, adding droplets of water to the sweat that had begun to grace my skin.
I felt feverish. I felt tingly. I felt hot. I felt alive.
Ben gently pushed me forward into the stall and under the first rain shower spout. The glass door swung closed behind us with a swish, making the steam waft around our ankles and kiss the sides of our legs. Water sprayed over my hair, plastering it to me. I reached up and pushed it back off my face, letting a few drops land on my tongue. Ben just continued to drink me down, to lick the stream of water that coated my shoulders, to suckle against my neck.
Finally he turned me around to face him, his hands gentle but determined against my sides. The water washed down between us, the steam rose up around us, and for the briefest of moments our eyes met. Then his darted down. First to my breasts, which surprisingly only lasted a split second.
But it didn't take long to realise why. The moment he'd spotted the small thatch of blonde curls at the juncture of my thighs he sucked in a breath, took a step backwards to get a better view, swallowed thickly and then made the most incredibly erotic sound at the back of his throat; half moan, half growl.
In the next instant he had my shoulders pushed back against the now warmed tiles of the shower wall and he was on his knees before me. He spread my legs with the palms of his large hands at my ankles, then without warning hoisted my right calf over his shoulder. I was displayed, ready for his perusal. Stripped of all my defences and laid bare.
I held my breath, whilst gripping the wall behind me for balance and then watched as his head dipped, that growl-come-moan rocked up his throat again and his tongue swept down the centre of my core.
I moaned.
He groaned.
And then I felt myself letting go - releasing, at least, a part of me.
It took a moment to realise Ben had moved. From the floor of the shower stall, to right before me; chest to chest, nose to nose. My eyes came open languidly and stared directly at his closed lids. He was breathing as quickly as I was, his hands flat against the shower wall at my back, one each side of my head. His forehead almost resting against mine. Water continued to rain down around us, steam rose high, thick in the confines of the space we were in.
It was extremely private, being cloaked in a haze created by the water and the steam, and having had such a moment of intimacy between us. Something that stripped me completely and left me bare. Reality, in this instant, was better than any dream could ever be. I searched his face, a stranger's face which seemed to resonate a familiarity in me that I'd never experienced before. I didn't really know him, but I'd let him inside my walls as though he had every right to be there. And I knew I'd let him inside them again.
Because for some reason Ben Tamati felt safe, despite evidence that he should not.
My hand came up and cupped his cheek, my fingers running over stubble. He pressed his face into my palm, nuzzled my hand like a cat seeking comfort. And then opened those chocolate pools of light and stared right at me.
"You taste so sweet, little red," he whispered huskily. "Better than I feared."
My brows furrowed.
"Feared?" I asked, also only a whisper and maybe a touch husky as well.
He nodded as though that was answer enough, then tipped his face closer and kissed my lips. It was such a chaste kiss. No tongue, no open mouths. Just the whisper of soft flesh against soft flesh. He was such a enigma, this man who hid in shadows. He clearly wanted me, even though he shouldn't. He'd taken the necessary steps to have me, but he was still holding himself back from having all of me.
"What do you really want, Ben Tamati?" I asked, trying to puzzle him out.
"You. In my bed. Your lips wrapped around my cock. Me buried inside you, watchin' you fall apart under my touch."
My heart rate accelerated. My breath came out in a burst of expelled air.
"I want that too," I admitted softly, that sensation of life bursting through me on those forbidden words.
He stared at me, really looked deep in my eyes, then said, "Blue," out of nowhere. I guess reminding himself of the true colour of my eyes. Something flicked across his face briefly, a shift in his mask, making the chocolate of his eyes turn granite dark. Then he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and crushed his lips to mine.
This was no chaste kiss. This was something entirely different. He ground his mouth against me, he forced his tongue inside, although I had no intention of denying him. He plastered himself to my body, he dominated my lips and tongue. He forced a moan from deep within me. And I suddenly got the impression that this was him marking me, removing all evidence of what I was before. Claiming me, making me acknowledge the Abi that I am now; blue eyes, beads in hair. No longer staid Abi, but a new version, a quasi version of the real me.
I also thought perhaps he was making himself acknowledge all this too. I'd seen a hint of anger in that slip of his mask just before, when he commented on my eye colour. A reminder that I had been hidden from him, from everyone, for so long. Ben Tamati, with this kiss that ruled my body, commanded my capitulation, was telling me I would hide no more.
At least I would hide no more from him. He demanded it.
But I had seen the man in the shadows too. I had seen the cover he'd created as his home. If Ben Tamati was going to insist I hide no more from him, then he damn well was not going to hide from me either.
My hand went up into his short dark hair, fisting the strands, pulling his face closer, demanding he not stop. The other hand wound around his body, landing on his well developed butt, pulling his erection against me, crushing his body into mine as though with my will alone I could meld him to me. He groaned into my mouth, deepened the kiss further, and flattened my back to the tiled wall. His hot sex pulsed between us, he rocked his hips in a movement that finally told me he was losing a little of that hard fought for control. It only made me more determined. My right leg, the one that had hung over his shoulder earlier, wrapped around his thigh, opening myself up to that glorious arousal of his, tempting him with a tilt of my pelvis as I rose up on the tip of my toes to just the right height.
He pulled his groin back a fraction, making me whimper at the loss of contact, then repositioned himself with a shift of his hips, so his erection ran between my thighs, through the moistness of my folds.
"
Te pai kē
!" he breathed against me, rocking his hips, enjoying the sensation of friction, the closeness to his final goal. But he didn't take it further. He didn't wrap my other leg around his hips and slide me down his shaft. He just continued to rub through that channel, not quite seated, just outside where I longed for him to be.
For several minutes we enjoyed the sensations of our bodies rubbing, grinding, against each other. I wanted more. I needed more. But Ben was firmly in charge. Every time I tried to climb up his body to force him to lift me into his arms and open me up so he could sink home, he'd deny me. Every time I shifted my pelvis, tried to get him to stop at my entrance so I could rock him in just a little, he'd refuse to stop his bump and grind. Frustration gnawed at me. Arousal built within me. My body literally came alive.
Then when he decided to move things along, his choice was, instead of shifting me so he could finally enter me, to dip his head down so he could wrap his lips around my breast instead. I arched against him, forcing more friction at our cores, but giving him unhindered access to my nipples as well. I was so damn turned-on and for a moment couldn't decide what would be better. His tongue and teeth nipping and sucking my nipples, or his thick sex thrust deep inside.
"Ben," I begged finally, unable to not voice my need. But instead of giving me what I wanted he simply stepped away, creating distance between our lower bodies, all the while he continued to lavish attention on my breast.
I had never felt so raw with desire, so lost to the moment, so disappointed to not get what I craved. Sensations I had never had the chance to experience before, in reality, rocked through me. Forcing sounds from my lips I'd never heard before. Deep keening noises, frustrated mewling sounds. Desperation coated my body and sunk deep down inside, and could be heard in every utterance from my mouth.
Ben's hand came up and grabbed mine, which had been resting ineffectually on top of his head, almost holding him in place at my breast, despite desperately wanting something else right then. He slowly brought our hands down between us, even as he shifted from that first nipple and began to devour the other breast. He wrapped my fingers around his sex, covered my hand with his bigger one, then rocked his shaft in my palm, showing me with his own hand how hard he wanted me to stroke.
Bright and beautiful bliss stormed through me, a feeling deep down in my stomach that stretched out deliciously to every nerve ending in my body. The knowledge that he wanted me to touch him. The sensation of that hard, yet silky skin beneath my hand. The illicit notion that this was so sexy, so erotic - a man who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to ask.
And he was so hard, so long and thick. For a moment I wondered if he would hurt me, but the ridge at the tip of his erection took my attention. Not to mention the feeling of moisture beading there that had nothing to do with the water from the shower we were still standing in. And those tactile sensations made me momentarily forget anything else other than making this man come in my hand. I wanted him to let go. I wanted him to let go because of me. I wanted to see what I could do to this man.
I wanted.
Oh God, I just wanted.
Him
.
He made a strained sound as he pulled away from my breast, my nipple popping out of his mouth suddenly, as he hadn't stopped sucking even at the end. He rocked his hips once, twice, three times in my hand. Made a growling sound at the back of his throat and then crushed his lips against mine.
He flicked his tongue masterfully inside me, reminding me of what that tongue had done down at my core. I wrapped my tongue around his and sucked, making his growl morph into a sensual groan and his shaft jerk in my hand.
He pulled his lips back, panting. "Your tongue on my cock," he said in a rough impersonation of his voice. Not a question, not really a direction, but I knew instantly what he was asking, demanding he have right then.
I sunk to my knees before him, watched as he leaned back against the shower stall and closed his eyes. His hands fisted at his sides, his cock twitched in front of my face. I had never knelt before a man before and done this. I'd gone down on boyfriends before, but I had never sat in front of them, as though at their beck and call. It felt exciting and naughty. And extremely liberating, for some strange reason. As though offering to do this, in such a way, was a gift, from me to him. Giving him what he desired in that moment, and taking nothing in return.
My hands grasped either side of his thighs, feeling the hardness of the muscle beneath his skin. Everything about this man was coiled strength, as though hiding in the shadows had made him hide everything else. His strength. His power. His beauty.
The first lick of the tip of his cock was shockingly delicious; a mix of sweetness and musk, a flavour that made me yearn for more. I groaned around the head of him, my lips vibrating over his skin making him buck beneath my touch and moan out loud. His hands came up to cup my cheeks, so I raised my eyes to see his face, my mouth forming a tight seal around his circumference while I did. His granite-chipped eyes were watching everything. A blatant sexual hunger in their darkened depths. He rocked his hips once; an encouragement to go on.
Then as I returned my attention to his shaft and sucking as hard and as long and as deep as I could, his hands fisted in my hair gently, making me feel trapped, but at the same time conversely feeling free. Free to give this to him, free to taste this extraordinary man. Free to forget everything else but this moment.
Free.
I moaned around my mouthful, I licked and sucked and nibbled. Then wanting even more, brought one hand beneath his shaft and rolled his weight in my palm.
"Ah, red," he breathed above me. "So much better than I feared."
I think I understood the statement now. Because he tasted and felt better than I had feared too.
"Can't go much longer," he panted, rocking steadily into my mouth now. "Wanna be inside you when I come," he added, but didn't pull away or stop.
I couldn't help the smile that formed on my lips, making sucking a little hard to achieve right then. I wanted this. I wanted his capitulation. I wanted to know I could make him forget and feel liberated too.
He must have sensed my smile, or felt it wrapped around his length, because he groaned, found the strength to pull back and stop, and muttered, "Don't be so smug, red."
Then his hands came under my armpits and I was hauled up the length of his body and crushed lips to lips.
"Fuckin' beautiful," he whispered in my mouth. "So fuckin' worth the risk."
I nodded, because I agreed. He was worth the risk too. This moment was worth the risk. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change my mind. I'd want this and to hell with consequences. To hell with being enemies. To hell with absolutely everything else in the world, but him.
The taps were turned off and the water stopped falling. But I knew
I
hadn't stopped falling yet. Ben pushed the shower stall open, still sucking on my tongue, melding his lips to mine. He walked us out of the bathroom area, not bothering with towels or drying off. The backs of my legs came into contact with the bed and without any hesitation he gently pushed me back onto the covers. His body stayed glued to mine, his lips didn't shift away, his tongue continued to create a beautiful dance inside my mouth.
And his hands roamed freely. One wrapped up in my hair, the other stroking down my side, over my hip and then cupping my rear. He pulled me tightly against him, rocked his hips into mine, my legs automatically opening to allow him a cradle to rest within. I could feel his erection pulsing hot between us, liquid pooled in a similar beat between my legs.
He rubbed his palm over my thigh, down to behind my knee, then back up to squeeze my butt cheek. Then as though he couldn't decide where to leave it, he then brought it higher and wrapped it around my breast, fingers and thumb tweaking a nipple. I arched against him, whimpered into his mouth. And then begged for more.
"Please," I heard myself saying. Then another, and another, and another. "
Please
."
"Shhh, red," he murmured. "I'll take care of you. I promise."
I closed my eyes and pretended his words meant more than just for now.
I felt him shift sideways and heard a side drawer being opened beside the bed. My eyes popped open. The part of me that never trusts expecting handcuffs and for him to leave me in this wretched state. The other part, mildly curious to know if he had any toys. A silver foil package came out between two fingers. He tore it open with his teeth, revealing a condom.