Page 43 of Justice for Radar

“You have needs too,” she said haltingly in argument.

I nodded and said, “Yeah, but they’ll get met on your time not mine and I’m okay with that.”

She looked mollified at that.

Man, she’d been with nothing but a lot of self-serving motherfuckers. I rolled and turned her onto her back, my cock stiff as much with arousal as morning wood and if she was down, I was certainly willing to put it to good use… but first, I wanted to make damn sure she was down.

I kissed her and her arms went around me, and I met no resistance when I nudged her knees apart with one of mine.

I pressed myself over the top of her, between her thighs, and rubbed myself against her. She gasped at the feel of me hard through our shorts and I smiled against her lips.

“Here whenever you want it, baby,” I whispered against her mouth.

She murmured back, “Please?” and it was so sweetly begging, I had to let out a measured breath. I could have come from that alone, the sound of her sweet voice begging me like that… such a thrill, such a turn on…fuck.

She slid a hand down the front of my chest and into the front of my boxers and gripped me, her soft hand firm as she stroked me mid-shaft to tip, putting a bit of a twist to her wrist action andoh fuck. I was throbbing, hot, fully engorged and desperate to bury myself inside her soft and fragrant warmth.

“Oh, fuck, Jussyyes…” I moaned beside her ear, burying my nose in her silky hair.

“Mm.” She made the small lilting noise of attraction and satisfaction at the way she had me wrapped around her little finger if she wanted me to be.

I pushed up and pulled back, a sound of protest escaping her as I pulled myself out of her grasp and her reach to hook fingertips into the waistband of her sleep set and the panties she wore beneath, she bucked her hips obediently without being told and I whisked the garments off her long legs.

God, she looked inviting, and I warred for a second about going down on her – the taste I’d had of her sweet musk off my fingers the night before tantalizing, but not nearly enough. My balls gave a throbbing ache and that answered me.

“Might not be able to last long,” I said divesting, myself of my own boxers. “Want me to use a condom?” I left the choice to her. I would love nothing better than to be inside her raw… just something about the thought of it was so primal, like I’d be staking my fuckin’ claim on her sweet pussy irrefutably.

“Yes, please,” she murmured.

I confess being slightly disappointed, but I wasn’t about to argue like a fuckin’ tool – no, I went into my bedside drawer and pulled out a round foil packet and tore that son of a bitch open with my teeth.

I rolled it down my length as she watched, a heat in her eyes and I loved it when I woman watched me make myself ready for her like that. Like my cock was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and like she just couldn’twaitto have me.

Not like this, she wouldn’t though… she was still too clothed.

She sucked in a sharp breath and her hands went to the hem of her tank to pull it down as I went to lift it. I gave her a sharp but silent look and she froze.

“Not gonna happen unless I get to kiss every inch of you, babe,” I told her in an imperious tone. She swallowed hard, staring at me with wide and lovely eyes, the wheels turning, and I so wanted her to be brave for me.

I waited, and just when I thought she would say it wasn’t happening, she took her hands away and lifted them shakily over her head, leaning up for me to take the scrap of satin and lace from her. I lifted and swept it up over her head, her long hair trapped momentarily and falling shiny and slick from the material, cascading over my pillows as she lay back.

I exerted my desire for her to understand just who was on top, just who was in charge in the bedroom, and at the last second gave the tank in my hands a deft double twist, trapping her hands and wrists in the material and holding her hands over her head. She gasped, eyes widening with a mix of desire and fear, and I smiled reassuring, letting my eyes drift from her face, over those luscious lips and that perfectly sculpted chin, over the winging collarbones that begged from my lips to her small but perfect tits with their dusky peach nipples.

Her chest rose and fell with deeper, slightly panicked breaths as my gaze repelled down her body, over her flat stomach, her slightly too prominent ribs, and came to the smattering of scars, whiter against her pale skin, slightly puckered and raises, dribbling down her plank to disappear around her back.

“You keep them there,” I demanded, letting go of her tank top, and with a slightly strangled noise that almost sounded like she was resisting a sob, she kept her hands where they belonged.

I checked her face, and while her eyes were wide, they weren’t wet. They showed a touch too much white for my liking, but I was working on remedying that. Everything in its own time.

I started with her lips, giving her an almost chaste, pure kiss laden with my intentions to make things better. She sucked in a sharp breath, but she kissed me back. I then pecked her chin, then chose a side of the long, graceful column of her neck to press chaste but fiery kisses one after the next, after the next. I kissed out along her shoulder and down her chest, taking a nipple into my mouth. She gasped and writhed beneath me but kept her hands up where I’d ordered them.

I lathed my tongue along the curve of the underside of her breast and she gasped and squirmed so I growled… it had the desired effect as she froze and I worried only slightly that it might be too intense with her fragile state, but I kept on – ignoring the typical route of the center of her being toward her bellybutton, deviating to the side.

Her breath stilled completely as I kissed just above the first raised scar, flicking my tongue out to run gently along the ridged seam of the stab wound even as my damn heart tried to break in the center of my chest, cracking with an almost audible noise at the pain she must have endured, the fear… I didn’t know the gory details. Maybe one day she would see fit to tell me, but that wasn’t for today, or even right now. Right now, it was time to recognize what a fucking little badass this woman was for surviving such a night full of terrors that most of us would never have to endure outside a movie theater with some bimbo hamming it up on the screen as the corn syrup flowed.

Except what’d flowed from these wounds hadn’t been corn syrup. With the state of Jussy beneath my lips and hands, I would have to say she’d bled more than just blood. The scars beneath my lips and light kisses tasted of many things; bitter disappointment, broken trust, fear, anxiety, and the bitter ash of dreams that’d been burned to cinders.

She gave a stuttering gasping breath and her body curled slightly, and I climbed the bed over and around her to kiss her tears away and bring her the light of hope into that dark place, the scars the key hole to opening it up, my acceptance the key to let me in toshine.

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