Page 46 of Wildfire
Renée reaches over, grabs my hand, and squeezes it tight.
"You've never told anyone this, have you?"
"No. You're the first."
"Thank you for trusting me."
My heart aches to reach out and pull her in. To hold her as I open up my wounds for the first time.
"We left in the middle of the night. All I had was my backpack with a change of clothes and a pocket video game. He'd gotten smashed drunk after winning some money at the casino, and he'd passed out when he got home. The money was sittingright thereon the coffee table, and I think my mother knew. It was then or never. So she tied his arms and legs with some clothesline just in case, grabbed the babies and a few essentials, and we ran. She stole some license plates from a random car in a parking lot and switched them with ours so the police couldn't find us. We drove straight through the night. She only stopped to feed us and sleep for a few minutes until we broke down outside Owl Creek. We've been here ever since, and I've been fighting my demons since then, too."
Renée puts her mug down and reaches out and pulls mine out of the death grip I have on it. She carefully puts it on the table in front of us and then climbs into my lap. She wraps her spidery arms and legs around me until I am surrounded by parts of her. We sit there, tangled in each other for several beats, until a deep, guttural bellow escapes my body. It is the most raw,sharp-edged thing I've ever felt. Almost like I am vomiting up the anger and pain with sound, and I feel like my mind and soul are floating as my body releases.
There are no tears. Just the noise of my body releasing. And Renée holds me through it all. She grips my back with her fingers, digging in and hanging on for dear life while I let it go. I let go of the fear that I was just like him. The fear he'd find us. The fear that Buzz wouldn't be there when he appeared, like a dark evil emerging from the night. I let go of the fear that I wouldn't be there to protect my mother or brothers. That I wouldn't be man enough. Or strong enough. Or quick enough.
Every fear that lodged itself inside me is escaping my body. As it does, I realize she is humming, almost chanting in my ear, easing the movement of the pain as it rides out of my body on the cloud of my roaring sounds.
I don't know how long we sit here, tangled in each other as if we are one person, but as I quiet down, I start to become aware of her as a separate part—not me. And as that awareness grows, so does my awareness that it is her—Renée. Her skin touches my skin. Her heat merges with my heat. Her breath mixes with my breath.
My mouth finds hers in a desperate attempt to merge with her again. To feel as if we are one again. We crash into each other, animal-like, as our lips and tongues explore the other. I feel her hips begin to grind as I deepen the kiss, and the desperation turns into something else. Something more determined.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Renée
I pull Cole's shirt over his head as his hands push mine up over my bra before he shoves the black lacy cups aside to release my breasts. His mouth covers my nipple, sending a shock wave right to my core, making me buck in his lap.
My hands probe his back, clawing at his muscles as he rolls my nipple over with his tongue. My body is lit up from tip to toe as he moves his mouth from one nipple to the other, and all I can think is that I need him inside me. I want to feel myself stretched over the cock that is rock-hard under me. Over the girth I am grinding against as he teases me to the edge before pulling me back again.
He works my shirt and bra off and then gently lays me back on the couch as I still straddle him. My center feels the absence of him the moment we are no longer crotch to crotch.
He runs a finger down the center of me, stopping at the button of my jeans and carefully releasing them. As he fingers the zipper down and opens up my fly, I watch his handsome, square-jawed face. This man is so careful and kind, yet he has a devilish look in his eye I've never seen before. That look is for me.
Wetness is pooling in my black, silky panties. He cups my core before lifting my ass to tug down my jeans. The feel of heat from his hand sends another wave of pleasure up from my center to my nipples, and they respond to his attention.
I try to pull him to me. I want to feel his chest against mine. I want every inch of my skin to make contact with his, but instead, once he pulls off my jeans, he looks at me. My knees are bent on either side of him as he sits between my legs. My clit is throbbing, aching for him to take me, but instead, he begins running a finger down the inside of my thigh. The throbbing hitches another notch, and my breath becomes short and clipped. I'm not going to last long with him touching me—any part of me.
Cole runs his finger down my other thigh, this time letting it come to a stop as it meets the edge of my soaking wet panties. He dips a finger underneath the fabric and strokes me. I buck again as a moan escapes my throat.
In the past, I was always in control. I could always hold back the most profound pleasure until the end to prolong the feeling, but I don't think I can do that with Cole. My flesh is throbbing and aching as he teases me with his finger. Never touching my center, never plunging himself inside of me. And watching. Always watching.
I've never been with a man who wanted to see how his touch affected me. Who cared about how I felt. I can orgasm pretty easily, so most of my exes were just happy that I was an enthusiastic fuck. But not Cole. He checks everything he does for my reaction. He checks to make sure I am feeling good.
He scoots off the couch and sits on the floor next to me, with his hand lingering on my center. Then he gently swipes a finger across my center again, this time pushing one finger in and pulling it back out before pressing it against my bud. His touch is like a button being pressed. Bolts of electricity shoot up both sides of my torso like the two sides of the nerve in my core send out warning signals— this one will be a doozy.
He rolls my bud with his finger, dipping inside and getting himself wet before running it over me. I reach out againto try to pull him on me, but he resists. Moments later, he ducks his head down and runs his tongue up the inside of my leg, and I think this is it.
I'm a goner.
He reaches up to my hips and rolls my panties down, finally pulling them off of me so I am bare in front of him. Open and ready. And despite knowing that making love to him is going to make it hurt like hell to leave, I want it. I want him. I want to feel every part of him on and in every part of me. I want to feel like it did when he was in my arms, and we were rocking together as he released his fears.
Because what he doesn't know is that I was releasing mine, too. It was as if we were syncing up and letting go of whatever thoughts and beliefs held us to the past. To the places that birthed us and formed us.
And now I want to give myself to him. To open up and let myself have him, even if it is just for this one night.
Cole runs his tongue along the edges of my core as his thumb finds my bud again. His hot breath warms my cells until I feel fluid in his fingers. Malleable.
He pushes some fingers inside me just as his mouth encloses my bud, and I am transported. It's like I am floating on a cloud as his hands and mouth work me until my back is arching high off the couch and my toes are curled up so tight they ache.
"I want you inside me, Cole."
