26
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Contradictions
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Ski Bum American Dark Wheat Ale
Ore Docks Brewing Company
A winter wonderland revelation.
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Neither of them moved in for the kiss yet.
"Contradictions," Bane said at length, grinding up slightly. His palms moved from her ass to the back of her thighs and he growled, pressing impossibly closer. One hand shifted to Spencer's jaw and he held her steady, pressing a hard demanding kiss on her lips.
She moaned, relishing each humid huff of air from his nose, twisting her fingers in his hair, scratching on his scalp and shoulder. He tasted like summer heat, spicy and forbidden, like skinny dipping in a lake after too many drinks.
Dangerous.
The hand at her jaw moved down to her neck and he held her there, the pressure steady and controlled. It prevented her from following his mouth as he moved away, panting, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.
Spencer bit her lip and swallowed hard, enjoying the light pressure keeping her head to the wall.
"Still exciting?"
"Fuck yeah," she panted out. Her hand fisted in his hair to try and bring him back to her face. "I want more and I want it now."
"That's coincidentally what I had in mind as well," he murmured, resisting her pull. His eyes glinted with mirth and he had a shit-eating grin plastered on those perfect sexy lips.
Spencer flexed, rolling her hips on his groin, relishing hard press of his clothed cock and the warning growl he let out when she stretched her neck under his palm. His fingers tightened just a fraction and it sent an arrow of molten heat straight down to her panties.
"Stop trashing."
"You'd have to pin me down."
He frowned and let go of her throat.
"We should discuss it first."
"I appreciate the consideration. But it's not some shitty romance novel. We're both adults."
"You don't know me. I could hurt you."
"Do you want to hurt me?"
The outrage in his eyes was the answer she needed so she didn't think of waiting for a verbal denial.
"I wanted you from the moment you answered my call. Now, we're here, you're hard, I'm wet. Let's work this the way we both feel like it."
"Safe word?"
"I thought 'please stop' or 'don't do that' would suffice for now."
"Fair enough," he nodded, lips turned into an upside-down 'U' for a brief while. "Couch okay?"
"Floor would be fine, as long as I can get you inside me."
Bane laughed and grabbed her more securely, then swiftly set on his way to the living room.
Spencer used the opportunity to lick at the warm and slightly salty skin of his neck and shoulder, nipping occasionally and gauging Bane's reactions by shifting of his palms and moans slowly forming in his throat.
He kneeled with one leg on the cushion of the couch and lowered Spencer to its softness. When he straightened she tried to follow him, but he directed one strong hand at her, pointing his finger somewhere to her chest.
"Stay." The word was out like an order, mild and steady, nonetheless steely hard.
Fuck, that was hot.
"Hands above your head."
Spencer complied without hesitation, smirking up at him and flexing her thighs to ease a fraction of the tension that settled there.
Meanwhile Bane was unbuttoning his shirt, gazing down at her with a measuring air about him.
"I wonder how much you'll be able to take, before it's too much." He took off his shirt, revealing a tan undershirt beneath. "I could fuck you so hard you'd have trouble walking tomorrow. If you'd want that."
Spencer gasped, and closed her eyes for a second. This was just what she had in mind. He was nice and sweet day to day, but this harshness he showed now, this ragged confidence verging on aggression was just what she needed. It was grounding and exciting. She wanted him to lose himself in the experience, to see his wants unfiltered, with all grimy and dirty details.
She opened her eyes and mouth to deliver her reply, but he was already taking down her boots. She noticed the appreciative gleam in his eyes when he rolled her skirt up and saw she was wearing stockings, the dark fabric giving way to smooth skin at the very top of her thighs.
"I'm going to leave them on," he rasped out. His fingers hooked gently at the waistband of the skirt and she lifted her hips to help him slide it down. "It's going to look fucking beautiful."
The talk was making her light-headed. Spencer smiled slyly and pressed her foot to his stomach, sliding under his shirt.
"What do I have to do for you to take this off?"
He grinned wolfishly and slowly licked his luscious lips.
The answer was hanging between them unspoken, when the doorbell rang into the quiet of the house. They both stilled, at once yanked out of the sultry mood.
"Do you expect anyone?" Spencer asked softly.
Bane frowned deeply, putting his shirt back on.
"No. Wait here."
He hurried to the door, turning on the lights on his way.
Bright flash stabbed at Spencer's eyes, and she rose to her feet briefly to put on her skirt. She heard voices in the hallway, Bane's and some woman's. She made herself not listen, focusing instead on the room she could inspect for the first time.
It was barren, the airy space filled with only the essentials. The couch, big enough to be comfortable to someone Bane's size. The TV standing on a low cabinet, all sharp angles and unadorned planes of wood. No knick-knacks, no flowers. A low and wide bookcase, filled with meticulously ordered volumes, all clumped in straight rows according to the size and colour. There was an armchair accompanied by a standing lamp and a small table, and that was it. No rugs, no vases, no sculptures. Sole picture of a group of men in green clothes.
The conversation by the door died down and she heard clicking of the locks. Then a staccato of light steps, hurried and excited. Way too soft to be Bane's. They stopped abruptly.
She turned around to see a little boy staring at her from the corridor. The same child she saw in Bane's arms at the Christmas parade. He was clutching a teddy bear and frowning up at her from behind the brown plush.