Page 22 of The Chase

Fairy lights. That was the first thing he noticed. A string of them around the sides and top. Pretty little lights with a warm glow, like fireflies. Then the bed, she’d got a duvet and pillows. Ah, multiple pillows. He’d had one thin pillow back in prison. She’d made the whole thing look fucking cute. He blinked, was he really going to be sharing a bed with her? Fuck. He went back to the cab and opened her door slowly. She was fast asleep. He leaned over, undid her seatbelt, and scooped her up in his arms. Carefully carrying her back, he realized how small she was. Her head lolled a bit, but her hands clenched on his shirt, like a baby sloth. He liked that he could protect her, care for her, keep her safe. He liked that feeling.

He had to climb up and into the van, crouching, with her in his arms, to get her to the bed. Not an easy maneuver and his back did not thank him for it. But he got them both there. He collapsed down with her on the mattress, turning his body as he sank down with her. Not on top of her, though he sorely wanted to.

The mattress was the softest thing Colt had ever felt. His aching limbs were sucked into it and he felt his body sighing with relief. He forced himself upright before he fell asleep and pulled off her shoes, her little brand new sneakers. He should have put her under the covers, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He closed the doors, locking them. They were safe, for now. He laid back down on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling of the van. It smelled good in there. She’d bought something and now it smelled of something calming, lavender? No, something more like tea leaves, not sweet, more musky. He liked it. The fairy lights twinkled above him. He should turn them off but he had no idea how. He looked to the side, and April was there, breathing heavily, eyelashes fanned over her cheeks. He couldn’t quite believe it. He was on the same mattress as April. Oh, if the circumstances were different, the things he would do to her to make up for the other night. To make his dreams come true. He rested his head back on the multiple pillows, and was painfully aware of the mere inches between them. Glad he was used to sleeping on a narrow bunk, he crossed his hands in front of him, as he had every night for the last five years. And he closed his eyes. And sleep immediately took him.

Colt woke with a gasp. It felt like he had fallen back into his body with a thud. A painful thud. He felt stiff all over, stiff but well-rested. He hadn’t woken up feeling rested in the last five years. His sleep had been a state of frozen paralysis in prison; still as a statue on his narrow bunk, not fully awake yet ever ready to pounce if there was a threat. Not fully asleep but his brain numb and his body still. But now he had slept well. He knew what time it would be, he didn’t need to check any clock. 7:00 a.m. had been ingrained into him in prison. He felt hot and sweaty, and very aware he was in the same set of clothes as yesterday. He dared a glance to his side. April was sprawled out on her side, one arm up over her head, her mouth slightly open, breathing deeply.

Colt sat up. He hadn’t moved from his rigid position all night. He never did, too many years of sleeping in a confined space, he wasn’t one to spread out and sprawl carefree like April was. He opened the door quietly. The morning was beautiful, the sky was blue, and far down below, waves were crashing. The sunlight was strong. Colt’s spirit soared. Freedom. It was fresh and new. He emerged from the back of the van and stretched, beguiled by the beautiful morning. He immediately yanked his shirt off. He had to move, he had the urge to use his body. He was barefoot, too, he must have kicked off his shoes in the night. In just his jeans, he dropped to the ground and did push ups. He found solace in the familiar moves, but excitement in the new location. Push ups, sit ups, squats. He went through his usual routine, the morning sun heating his skin, the breeze cooling him.

He turned suddenly, feeling a set of eyes on him. April. She was wide awake, sitting up in the bed inside the van, watching him. He smiled to himself and rose to stand at his full height, flexing his pecs a little as he did so. He sauntered over to her until his legs bumped into the doorframe of the van. Her eyes roving over him, she did a double take at his nipple piercing, a tiny silver bar through his left nipple. He felt his cock begin to harden and his confidence surge.

“When you’re done eye-fucking me, we could get some coffee,” he said.

She gulped and tore her eyes from his torso to his face. “Eye... pardon? I wasn’t… I was just-”

“Ha, don’t lie to me, I can see it all over your face, Kitten.”

She looked away, her pride dented from being caught.

“I’m going to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be the type of woman to be interested in the likes of this.” He looked down at his own body.

She tilted her head back. “You’re right, a week ago if I’d seen you walking toward me on a dark night, I’d have crossed the road to avoid you,” she said.

He turned to move away from her, feeling a stab of disappointment. Maybe she had changed her mind about what she’d said yesterday.

“And yet... I would have thought about you once I’d made it home, safe and sound.” He turned back to look at her. “Once I was in my bed, all alone, wide awake…” She returned his gaze now.

He almost choked. Was she implying she’d have touched herself, thinking about him? Was she teasing him? “Well, you weren’t alone, were you? College Boy was there to do your bidding-”

“Or not able to, as was the case. Hence why I’d be dreaming of a man like you…”

He came closer, crawling into the van on his knees, like a predator. He didn’t stop until he was inches from her. His hand found her cheek, and he looked down at her. He could rip her clothes off right now and get down to it. That possibility hovered there, in the air between them, sizzling. He breathed in and out. Once. Twice. He’d fucked it up the first time, going in too hot, and he wanted it differently. He wanted to cherish her with sweet gentle kisses, but tarnish her with his cum all over her face.

He should take her then and there. He should just rip her clothes off and sink himself into her. He would have done that years before, without any hesitation. Hell, he’d have done that only yesterday. But now, he felt differently. He wasn’t ready to try again. How had he completely lost control of himself? He could have hurt her. It had been stupid and reckless. He felt so unworthy. He needed her to snatch herself away from his needy, grasping hands. She wasn’t, she was opening herself up and giving him easier access. To the point where his brain and his self-shame had caught up with him and was pulling back from the brink.

She deserved better than him. She wasn’t like the girls he had with before, mostly club girls, with alcohol and drugs involved. Girls who wore very little and were keen to please, keen to belong, keen to count their self worth by how long they could keep a man like him interested. April was different. She respected herself, she was intelligent, she had grown up with a sense of self-worth. So when she said she wanted him, it meant so much more. She didn’t say anything. She had that look on her face again. Her eyes turned darker, her jaw dropped a little, her lips parted.

He undid the top button on his jeans. What was he doing? He didn’t know. He couldn’t risk it again. He didn’t want to lose himself again like that. With her.

He should stop himself, back away now. He couldn’t.

“We should talk about what happened yesterday…” she began to say. She shifted in the bed, all soft sheets and cotton freshness against her golden, warm skin.

He really didn’t fucking want to talk about what happened yesterday. He wanted to repeat what happened yesterday. And yet, he knew he’d regret it later. He wasn’t worthy, he wasn’t strong enough. He was tearing himself apart inside.

He put his lips to hers and kissed her. Really kissed her, opening his mouth and lapping his tongue inside. She moaned, her skin was so soft against his, her breath was warm against his lips, sweet on his tongue. It turned him the fuck on. He pulled back and she held on. His resolve melted like wax under a flame.

“Am I making you wet?” he asked her. His self control scattering, particle by particle on the gentle, warm breeze.

“What a question to ask! I-” she began, but suddenly he was kissing her again.

He put his hand roughly between her thighs. She squealed, shocked, but opened her legs for him. He undid her jeans and pulled them down a little, over her butt. Then he slipped his finger over the cotton of her briefs, right to where her folds were. He couldn’t stay away, he’d swear he touched heaven there the night before, he was drawn to it like a bee to honey. The cotton was damp.

“Jesus, you are melting for me. You want me bad,” he ground out between clenched teeth, butting his head lightly against her forehead. Despite his brain screaming no, his body couldn’t stop. He had to tarnish her. Ravage her. Ruin her. He had to feel her. He slipped a finger beneath the cotton, tracing the line of her slit, he dipped his finger into her damp core. Her eyelids fluttered. He clenched his teeth and traced circles over her clit.

He put his ear to her mouth then. “You want me, don’t you, Kitten?”

She practically shuddered.

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