WORTH WORKING FOR
CHAPTER TWO
(Reminder: this chapter, and only this chapter, is rated M)
Their self-control ends as soon as they enter her building. She goes straight for the elevator, dragging him behind her, and once the door slides shut, his mouth is on hers, and every inch of his body is pinning her to the wall.
She grips the front of his shirt, arches into him as he slides his hand to the hem of her dress and under, continuing the exploration that she'd stopped before.
This time she doesn't pull away, instead parts her legs to give him easier access. Already she's more turned on than she has been in a long time, and he's barely even touched her.
His hand slides up her thigh, and she hooks her ankle around his calf to encourage him to keep going. He freezes when his fingers brush against her bare center, and he pulls away, stares at her with dark eyes.
"Have you been naked under there all night?" he husks, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
She squirms, trying to guide his fingers where she's desperate for relief, but he doesn't move, just keeps his hand there, barely making contact with her.
"No," she manages to gasp. She huffs when he raises a brow and moves his hand away. "Took them off before we left."
He chuckles, a deep, raspy noise that has her core clenching with anticipation. "Naughty. I like it." He swipes his fingers through her folds, teasing her entrance, slipping one thick finger inside before withdrawing and circling her wetness over her clit.
She gasps and rolls her hips, a silent plea for more, but before anything else can happen, the elevator stops and the doors open. She steps away and grabs his hand, almost blind with lust as she leads him to her apartment.
She manages to get them inside before they do anything indecent in the hall, but as soon as her door is shut, he's on her again, his hands drawing her dress up.
The scar on her side tugs when she lifts her arms, but it's forgotten as soon as the cool air of her apartment hits her bare skin. She leans back against the door, draws her bottom lip between her teeth as he takes a step back and lets his gaze travel down her body.
He lingers on her chest, and she knows he's looking at the scar between her breasts, the healed hole from the bullet that almost took her life a few short months ago.
"Kate," he breathes, lifting a hand to trace his finger across the scar. His eyes meet hers, and her breath catches in her throat at the tenderness that shows through the desire. "What-"
She grabs the lapels of his coat and pull his mouth to hers, interrupting him before he can say anything else. She doesn't want him to be tender, doesn't want to answer the question in his eyes, doesn't want anything more than to take him to bed. The only thing she wants tonight is sex.
She can't give him more than that.
They barely break contact as she guides him through the apartment, their hands exploring, tongues tasting. His shirt lands somewhere in the living room, their shoes end up scattered in the hallway, his pants fall to a heap just outside the bedroom.
She takes a step back when they reach her room, takes the opportunity to watch as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and draws them down his legs. She can't stop her tongue from licking her lips when he straightens up and she can take in his body in all its naked glory.
Her gaze lingers between his legs, his cock standing thick and proud and begging for attention. He bends down long enough to grab his wallet from his pants, and he extracts a condom before dropping the wallet and stepping towards her.
She shoves the sheets and comforter out of the way before laying down, and then he's hovering over her, his mouth on hers, sheathed cock nudging against her core. She grunts when he slides himself through her arousal, the slow drag along her clit sending shockwaves through her.
"Fuck," she gasps, her head falling back to the mattress. She slides her hands down his waist, holding him to her, lifts her hips when she feels him guide his cock to her entrance.
He takes his time, letting her adjust as he slides in, as she stretches with each glorious inch. She hooks her legs high around his hips and he enters her fully, and they both pause, her fingers gripping his back, his forehead against hers as he slowly withdraws.
He enters her again, speeding with every thrust, and it doesn't take long before he's groaning her name, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing as he comes. Her release follows, and she gasps, her hips rolling against his, drawing out the orgasm that rushes through her.
They lay there for several long seconds, panting, trying to catch their breath. Eventually, Rick gets up, and he ducks into the bathroom. Kate can't bring herself to move, her body still tingling from the pleasure.
Rick emerges before she can even sit up, and he pauses in the doorway and smirks. "You okay?" he teases, leaning against the doorframe.
She turns her head to look at him, intending to glare, but rakes her gaze down his body instead. She could tell he was attractive at her first glimpse, even in the low light of the bar, but here in her apartment, illuminated by her lamp and the light from the bathroom, she can't help but admire him.
Damn.
She reaches her arms above her head and stretches, arching her back as she does, wincing at the tug on her side. It's a long, ugly scar, an unfriendly reminder of how close she'd come to death, of the measures taken to save her life. She ignores it as often as she can, much easier to do than the one in the middle of her chest.
When she looks back at Rick, his gaze has dropped to her side, and he slowly walks to the bed, sits on the edge of the mattress, and traces the long, jagged line with his finger.
"What happened?" he asks in a near-whisper, his gaze shifting to her chest, where he reaches out to touch that scar again.
Like before, when he'd first started to ask, she interrupts him with the press of her mouth against his. She tries to deepen it, to pull him back on top of her and instigate round two, but he pulls away after just a few tantalizying strokes of his tongue.
"Do you want me to leave?" he murmurs, lifting his hand to cup her cheek.
She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, flushes when his eyes follow the movement, and shakes her head. "Stay."
His gaze darkens and he nods. "I just need to make a phone call."
"To your girlfriend?" she teases, hoping he says no despite her tone. Good sex or not, she has no interest in being the other woman.
He glances at her and retrieves his phone from his pants pocket, smirks when he catches her staring at his ass. "Don't have one. Wouldn't be here if I did. No, but I do have a meeting in the morning that I better reschedule." He leans over and presses a quick kiss to her mouth. "I'd hate to have to cut our time short," he murmurs, promise lacing his words.
She shivers in anticipation and takes the opportunity to use the bathroom herself. She takes a few extra moments to brush her teeth and attempt to tame her mussed hair, although if she's right, her hair will get messy again as soon as he's ready for more.
He's sitting on the edge of the bed when she returns, and his cheeks flush as he stares at her. "Wasn't sure where you wanted me," he explains, motioning to the headboard. "Which side, I mean," he clarifies.
She chuckles. "I usually sleep on the right, but it doesn't matter."
Before he has a chance to move, she climbs onto the bed, straddling his legs. His hands fall to her hips and she drapes her arms over his shoulders, and she lowers her mouth to his. She trails her fingers through his hair and deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue against his, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip when she pulls away.
He grunts and surges up into her, taking her mouth with his, and before she can react, his hands splay across her back and he stands, turns, and deposits her to the bed. He follows, his mouth never leaving hers, and he props himself on one elbow, buries his fingers in her hair to hold her to him.
She feels his cock stir against her leg, and she hooks her leg around his, rolls her hips in a silent plea for friction. She doesn't even care that he isn't hard yet; she just wants to come again.
Either he reads her mind or feels the arousal against his thigh - probably the latter, although the former is a nice thought - because he tugs his mouth from hers and starts to trail it down her neck.
She arches when he reaches her breasts, cupping one with his hand, brushing his thumb across her hard nipple as he takes the other in his mouth. She gasps and palms the back of his head, holding him to her as he laves her with his tongue.
He releases her nipple and kisses down the side of her breast to the valley between them, but he pauses and lifts his head.
"It looks recent," he husks, looking up to meet her eyes. He bends his head and brushes his lips to the scar. "You don't want to talk about it," he murmurs against her skin. He glances up at her, but when she stays silent, he nods and slides his hand down her side and to her hip.
He doesn't say anything more about the scars, then, just trails his mouth down her torso, and there's no more talking for a long time.
It's before dawn when she wakes, the gray, hazy sky bleeding through her curtains. She shifts to her back and looks at the other person in her bed.
She can't help but smile, even as she feels a tug of soreness between her legs. It's a pleasant ache, one borne from a very satisfying night with a man who knows what he's doing.
They'd eventually passed out sometime after one, breaking her rule of not spending the night with a stranger.
She couldn't kick him out, though, not when he made her come so hard she nearly blacked out. She squeezes her thighs together at the memory of his talented tongue, how he took his time with her, learning her body, bringing her to the edge only to pull back over and over again until she was begging for release.
Thank goodness for the condoms she found in the back of her nightstand drawer, she thinks, turning to face her bedmate. He'd only had one in his wallet, and they'd both been too insatiable for one round.
Her hand moves of its own volition, and she freezes when she brushes a lock of hair from his forehead.
That was way too intimate.
Before she can slide out of bed and escape, his eyes flutter open, revealing his bright, sleepy gaze. She can't help but settle further into the bed as his lips lift in a soft smile.
"Hey," he rasps, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
His hand finds hers under the sheet, and he tangles their fingers together and tugs her into him.
Her breath catches in her throat when he curls his arm around her waist, holding her still as he leans forward and presses his mouth to her shoulder.
He kisses a path up her neck to the spot under her ear that they'd both discovered drives her crazy, and she cups the back of his head, holding him to her as she rolls to her back.
He slides his hand down to her thigh, and he lifts her leg over his hip and grinds his rapidly hardening cock against her.
"Rick," she gasps, nudging his shoulder and reaching for her nightstand when he pulls away.
He beats her to it, grabbing the condom and slipping it on in record time before entering her in one swift thrust.
She gasps and rolls her hips in time with his, marveling at how in tune they are after just a few short hours together. He's obviously observant, adjusting the speed of his thrusts with every gasp or flutter around his cock.
It doesn't take long before she locks her ankles at the small of his back and falls over the edge, his fingers against her clit, drawing out her release until she's trembling under him, waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
His teeth nip at her collarbone, bringing her back to the present.
"You with me?" he husks, dragging his mouth along the base of her throat, his hips moving in small but barely controlled thrusts, keeping her at the edge of coming again.
She cups the back of his head, and she brings his mouth to hers, glides her tongue against his before pulling back and nodding.
He smirks and sits back. "Good. Turn over."
As soon as she's on her hands and knees he's sliding into her again, and she groans and presses her cheek into the bed, every nerve ending on fire. He grips her hips, pulling her back into him as he sets a fast, punishing pace, his fingers digging into her skin.
The bed rocks as he slams into her, their moans, grunts, distinct sounds of their coupling filling the otherwise silent room. Every hard thrust propels her forward, and she presses a palm against the headboard, uses the leverage to push her ass back into him, meeting each slam into her.
Her orgasm rushes through her, has her writhing, trembling, crying out. His grip on her tightens even more; later she'll notice the bruises left by his fingers, but for now he just drapes himself over her back, buries himself as deep as he can, and groans with his own release.
She falls to the bed as he pulls out and collapses at her side, his hand on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. She turns her head in his direction, and she takes the opportunity to study him. After a moment, he scrapes his hand down his face and pushes himself up.
Her phone buzzes while he's in the bathroom, and she frowns when she sees the notification from the precinct. She wasn't supposed to be on call for another few hours, one of the reasons she'd agreed to the night out with Lanie.
She smiles when she hears the sink turn on. Well, it started out as a night with Lanie, anyway.
She can't complain about the change of plans, though; her night - and early morning - turned out just fine.
She gets out of bed and grabs her robe from where it hangs on the back of the door, and she slips it on, ties it as Rick emerges from the bathroom. He pauses when he sees her, but she ignores the confusion in his eyes and throws some clothes onto her bed.
"I got called into work," she explains when she hands him his pants and boxers, "so I need to get ready."
Rick just blinks at her, but slips on his boxers. "This early? For what?"
She stops at the bedroom door and turns to face him. "Can we not?"
"I just-"
"Look, Rick, this was fun," she interrupts, tamping down the urge to say it was the best sex she's had in a long time. She doesn't need to encourage him. "But I'm not looking for anything more. So can we just call it a fun night and move on?"
Judging by the clench of his jaw, he doesn't like the suggestion. But she holds his gaze, unwilling to budge.
She's too complicated, too broken, to let someone new into her life. Her friends know and accept her, never force her to give more to their friendships than she's willing to. They might not like it - Lanie does push her sometimes - but they all deal with it. The last thing she needs is to open up to a stranger, heaven forbid start to care for him, and for him to run when he realizes she'll never be able to put as much into a relationship as she takes.
Finally, Rick nods and leaves her room. She follows as he retrieves his clothes from the floor, until they stop at her door. He buttons his shirt, folds his jacket over his arm, and stands in front of her.
"Well," he says, the hope still ever-present in his voice.
She pulls her robe tighter around herself. "Well."
"Are you sure-"
"Yes."
"If you change your mind-"
"I won't."
He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and down his face, and shakes his head. "Okay." He studies her for a long moment, as if committing her to memory, then cups her face in his hands and lowers his mouth to hers.
She loses herself in the kiss, in the soft caress of his thumbs on her jaw, the stroke of his tongue against hers.
He eventually pulls away, and he presses his forehead to hers for a brief moment before taking a deep breath and stepping away.
"Take care of yourself, Kate," he says in a low husk, trailing his thumb along her jaw one last time before walking out the door.