“No.” I shake my head. “Allergies.”
I don’t give him time to refuse me. I climb into the back of the car and buckle my seatbelt. I throw two hundred-dollar bills over the seat. That’s enough for the driver. I make it four blocks before I have him stop the car. I stumble out and retch on the sidewalk.
“Gross.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“God, I thought these homeless people were supposed to be in shelters.”
Behind me I hear the car squealing away. I crawl toward the side of the building and pull out my phone. My shaky hands prevent me from dialing so I use the voice command.
Thankfully it works and the phone starts ringing.
“Natalie, where are you?” he answers immediately, and I almost start sobbing in relief. “Mike and Rondell saw you leave, but lost you in traffic.”
“I’m at . . .” I struggle to sit up and look around. “I’m at Leonard and Hudson, I think. On the east side of the street.”
“Are you alone?”
A gurgly sob breaks loose. “I wish.”
“I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m at Rector and Greenwich. I’m fifteen minutes, at the most. Stay strong.”
I nod even though he can’t see me and then bring the breathing bag up to my face again. Those fifteen minutes stretch like a canyon. I labor into the bag and count the seconds, literally.
A nudge against my foot causes me to look up. The silhouette of a beat cop is outlined by the sun. “You need to get up. There’s no loitering.”
I should say something and explain my predicament, but I’m afraid if I stop breathing into my bag, I’ll barf all over this cop’s shoes. That would probably get me arrested. My folded legs begin bouncing rapidly. He leans over me and grabs my arm. “I said move.”
Dizzy and shivering violently, I allow him to push me down the sidewalk. I stumble and catch myself against another building. My legs are too weak to hold me up and I start to crumple again. The cop shouts something, and then I hear a screech of brakes and a slamming of a car door. Heavy footsteps pound toward me, but his uneven tread is something I recognize instinctively.
“Jake?” I mewl.
He reaches down and picks me up as if I’m a child weighing no more than an ounce or two. “I have her, officer, thank you.”
“I’m going to have to take her in for questioning. She looks like she’s on drugs.”
I burrow into Jake and clutch him to me. I can’t leave him.
“She’s agoraphobic and is having a panic attack.” I feel him shift under me. “Here’s my card. You can follow me home and question her there.”
“Oh, hey, sorry, man. Did you lose your arm in service?”
“Yeah, army. Ranger out of Fort Benning.”
“Okay. Just take her away and make sure she’s not wandering around by herself anymore.”
“No problem, and thank you, officer.”
Jake slides me into the back of the car and taps on the window. It takes off. He doesn’t stop holding me. The whole way up Hudson, he strokes my back and whispers into my ear. The sixty blocks up Hudson to Jake’s townhouse seems endless. I puke another time into the breathing bag. The sour smell of vomit fills the car, and a moment later, wind whips through the enclosed space as Jake and the driver lower the windows.
I sob into his chest, humiliated but weirdly happy. I couldn’t make it back to Jake on my own, but I didn’t have to. He met me more than halfway. His embrace feels strong and reassuring.
He carries me into the house, up the stairs to the third floor, and into my new bedroom. The shades are drawn and it’s blessedly cool and dark. Jake lays me on the bed, and then hustles away. I hear the faucet in the bathroom turn on and off. When he returns he has a tall glass of water. I take it with shaking hands.
“What were you doing? Why didn’t you call me?”
I look like shit. My nose is full of snot and my eyes are red from my crying. I can barely hold the glass in my hands. “I don’t want to lose you,” I say.
“You aren’t going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere.” He bends down to try to kiss me, but I avert my face.
“Don’t kiss me. I puked a couple of times. I have vomit mouth.”
He chuckles. “All right, but even your vomit mouth isn’t going to turn me off.”
He settles for kissing my forehead. He helps me off with my clothes and then takes off his own, including his prosthetics, and then climbs in bed with me. His body is so deliciously warm. I curl into it, seeking to draw as much heat from him as I can and absorb it into my own body.
When I inhale, I no longer smell the sour of my sickness but his warm, earthy male scent. The one that covered my sheets for too short a period. Behind me I can feel his arm moving up and down in long languid strokes. His hair-roughened limbs rub against mine. All the sources of friction are heating me from the inside. Instinctively, I shift toward him. He runs a hand along my thigh and then lifts it to drape over his hip. I’m open to him and he takes wonderful advantage. He licks his fingers and then spreads the moisture between my legs. One finger slides inside me.
“You’re wet inside,” he whispers into my ear.
I squirm, trying to get his finger deeper inside me. He obliges and thrusts another finger in, and the fullness of those two long digits makes me sigh with anticipation.
“Did you think about me while I was gone?” he asks.
“Every day.” It is more of a question of when didn’t I think of him.
“Did you use your vibe?”
I shake my head.
“Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t you. It wasn’t good without you.”
“Poor baby. Seven days and no relief. You must be so hungry. Your sweet pussy is squeezing my fingers. I can’t wait until my cock is inside you. My hand doesn’t do it anymore either.”
His filthy words have me writhing against his fingers. He drives me out of my mind with just a few more thrusts. Then he withdraws and I hear a crinkle of foil. Before I register what it is, he’s back between my legs, spearing me with his big cock. I come immediately again. He’s right. It’s been so long and I’m so, so hungry for him. His hand comes between us to pinch my nipple and then he rolls me on my back so he can suck my nipple into his mouth as he works me with his shaft.
The double sensations have me arching off the covers.
“You taste so good,” he says. “But I need more.”
He withdraws completely and dives between my legs. The firm feel of his mouth curls my toes. I dig into the covers and push up to meet his mouth. He attacks me, devours me until the lightning strikes behind my eyelids. I feel like I come endlessly, like it’s one big orgasmic wave after the other. He works his jaw against the tender skin of my thighs and his hard tongue stabs me repeatedly until I’m begging him to stop or for more. I don’t know what I want.
He does, though. He rears up on his knees and roughly drags me down until my sex is kissing the tip of his cock.
“Watch,” he says darkly. And I do.
I’m arrested by the sight of his thick ridged cock disappearing inside my body. He takes it so slow, moving tiny centimeter by tiny centimeter until he’s fully seated inside me and his balls are pressing against my ass. He does this slow, torturous action three more times before he loses control and falls to his elbows. His body cages mine, and below me, he uses his knees to leverage inside, making sure he strokes every tissue and nerve inside my pussy. My legs bracket his hips and I dig my nails into his shoulders. We move as one, in perfect synchronicity, and the fire he’d started from the moment he climbed into bed roars to life again and consumes me. It burns up all the hurt, the acid, the loss until I’m a bright white light of pleasure and joy.