26 - Cold Enough to Melt

Lilah washed her hands, and then allowed the cool water to pool in her palms.  Sipping from the crudely fashioned cup, she rinsed her mouth and spit into the sink.

You did it.  You got him excited enough to get off and you swallowed it without throwing up.

That had actually happened once, and was the reason she didn’t much care for oral sex, but she’d fantasized about taking Tony in her mouth for months.  He was the exception to her rule and Lilah had mentally conjured what his scent would be like, how his skin would taste, how sensitive he would be in certain areas.  She had no doubt what thrilled him.  Her intuition – premonitions, whatever – guided her hands and mouth to the exact spots she’d dreamed about.

The only surprise had been his size.  She’d always assumed him to be of average length and girth, but he was thicker than she expected.  Thick enough to make her insides ache when she imagined him filling her.

You might like it, but you still won’t orgasm.

And that was why she didn’t want to try.  She wasn’t ready to ruin the fantasy yet, nor was she up to faking it tonight.  It was important to Lilah that she was able to gratify him and that he got relief from whatever erotic dream her nightmare had rudely interrupted.  Knowing that she was able to accomplish both things was sexual satisfaction enough for her.

Dabbing the fluffy white hotel towel against her mouth, she dropped it to the countertop and worked a hand through her hair.  The effort at restoring order was futile, but she could now pretend it was artfully tousled instead of plain old bed head.  Taking a deep breath, she snapped off the light switch and twisted the doorknob, hoping that he’d drifted off to sleep.  Most men didn’t have a problem doing that, in her experience. 

A quick survey of the bed found it rumpled and empty, and she heard a sharp intake of air to her left.  Glancing that way, she watched him blow out the puff of smoke he’d just inhaled and snuff out the cigarette in a makeshift ashtray before easing the window shut.

That’s right.  Post-orgasmic smoke break.  Walter always did that.

“C’mere.”

The harshness of his voice startled Lilah, and her footsteps faltered when he stood and held out a hand to her.  It was difficult to make out his facial features without her glasses, but she could see that beautiful blanket of chest hair easily enough. 

You missed your chance to run your hands through it.

“Bluegrass.”

Her head snapped up.  It was only a single word, but Lilah didn’t need her glasses to know that he was pissed.  Again.

“What?” she asked, pleasantly surprised to find herself unafraid.  Since her childhood, a raised voice had her cowering, if only on the inside.  Even Jon’s silent glares made her cringe with the desire to burrow into the nearest hole.  That had never been the case with Tony. 

You know why.

“I said to c’mere.”

As she drew close, she saw that he had put his shorts and his glasses on, and that his ultra-short hair was parted in an awkward way by his tumble with the pillow.  Darting her eyes to his darkly furred pectorals, and the ensuing trail that disappeared under his waistband – to where she’d had her face happily buried only moments before – Lilah thought he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.  Dark and tattooed on the outside, gruff teddy bear on the inside.  It wouldn’t take much to find herself way too enamored with Anthony Bongiovi.

Who are you kidding?  That happened months ago, before you ever met him.  Now that you’ve touched him.  Tasted him.  There’s no going back.

“Lilah, look at me.”

She lifted her eyes, the steel-infused words filling her with a sense of anticipation.  Or was it dread?

“Was that supposed to be my compensation for your backstage visit?  Or to earn you another one?”

“No!”   Her eyebrows slammed down with annoyed confusion.  Why did people always assume she had ulterior motives?  As a general rule, her actions were based solely on the happiness of others.  Her wants and wishes came somewhere after the cleaning staff.  That was another reason why this European trip was such a big deal for her.  She never would’ve pushed and fought for it if she hadn’t felt it was life-changingly important.    

“Then what?”  Stretching his arm out, he snagged her wrist and propelled her forward.  “I wanted you, Bluegrass, not just to get my rocks off.”

“I…”  Heat infused her face at the crudeness of his truth.  Her embarrassed flush couldn’t possibly be because he said he wanted her, mostly because she found it overwhelming that he might actually want her.  Yes, it was why she was here, but when fantasy came in touch with reality, it took a minute – week, month, year – to blend the two.  “I guess I could apologize, but you seemed to enjoy it, so I’m not sure why I should.”

“I don’t want you to fucking apologize,” he ground out, scowling down at her.  Just as quickly as it scrunched with displeasure, his face smoothed out and he curled a single finger under her chin, holding her gaze.  “Simple yes or no question:  Do you want me?  Do you want me between your legs doing things that you’ll be too embarrassed to talk about in the morning?  Do you want to cum so hard you think you’re gonna pass out?”  The volume of each question grew softer than the last, until he cupped a gentle palm over her jaw and answered them all.  “Because I think you do.”

I do.  God help me, I do.

If only it were that easy.  She wanted him like crazy.  Even his smell turned her on, right down to the faint odor of acrid cigarette smoke.  It blended in with his natural scent and made him uniquely Tony. 

Want in one hand, shit in the other, Lilah Jane.  See which fills up first.

“I do,” was her hesitant admission.  “But I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

He tucked a dark tendril behind her ear and delicately traced the cut under her jaw, frowning as he did.  “Why?”

Kissing him had been amazing.  The way his broad tongue had filled her mouth to overflowing, taking full ownership of everything inside it...  If she ever got another chance, she would suck on that tongue of his.

Dumbass, you'd have the chance if you'd just say yes.

If only it were that easy...

“My first husband called me frigid.  The second one never said it, but I was more trouble than I was worth.”

Unimpressed with her embarrassing revelation, he corners of his mouth tipped upward at a jaunty angleand his smile was sheer predator.  “If I ever run into either one, I’ll be sure to share my philosophy on frigid women with them.  And maybe an ass beating.”

“Wha…  What’s your philosophy on frigid women?” 

Hooded eyes smoldered behind corrective lenses while his palm lightly curled around the nape of her neck.  “There are no frigid women, Lilah, only inadequate men.  I’ve seen the way you look at my chest.  No way in hell are you frigid.”

At a loss for words, she let her focus drop to the aforementioned chest, rolling her bottom lip in and chewing at it hard enough to taste blood.   He might believe that, but  there was always the slight possibility that Walter was right.  Then she would end up not only unsatisfied and frustrated, and disappoint Tony in the process.

Fantasies and a vibrator had gotten her this far.  Was she brave enough to take the chance that she could have more?

“Touch me, Bluegrass.”  His husky command had her palms itching to stroke the sable pelt that, in such close proximity, showed that it was dotted with a scarce sprinkling of gray.  Encouraging fingers curled more firmly around her neck, and a slow squeeze silently urged her to do his bidding.

Touch him.  You’ve dreamed about it enough.  See if it feels as good as you think it does.

Ever so slowly, she lifted one hand to rest with no more than the weight of a butterfly on his left pectoral muscle.  The crispness of the hair there tickled her palm, causing her to inhale sharply through her nose. 

He felt so good.

Muscles flexed under her touch, and Lilah realized he was leaning forward, seeking out her other hand.  He purposefully planted it next to its mate and then watched as she instantly became enthralled with a tactile exploration of the masculine terrain.

Scraping her nails at the flesh that was hiding under the cover of hair, she quietly hummed her appreciation of his assets.  Her hands grew bolder, skimming over the gold pendant that lay against his sternum and outward to the sharp points of his shoulders.  She adoringly stroked the smoking skull tattoo on his left arm at the same time she rubbed over the little devil on his right.

“Lilah?”

She looked up, so engrossed with his body that she forgot to censor herself.  Never one to have a poker face, Lilah had to work very hard to keep her thoughts hidden.  This time, he caught sight of everything going on inside her head before she could lock it away.

Tony swore softly.  “You can’t look at a man that way and be frigid.”  Another wide hand joined the first on her nape and tilted her head in such a way that her mouth was offered up like a fine wine.  “Lemme prove it to you.”

Her eyes fluttered, then drifted shut as he took seductive possession of her mouth.  The whispery sigh that eked out of her throat got no further than Tony’s mouth.  He swallowed it – and her – whole.

“Those damn noises of yours,” he growled with a gentle nibble on her kiss-steamed lips.  “…are the biggest fuckin’ turn on.  I can’t wait to hear you cum.”

His words alone took her a long way down that road.  Far enough that Lilah decided, even if she had to fake this orgasm, it would still be the best sexual experience she’d ever had.  Hell, it already was and she was still in her t-shirt and panties.

Enough.  You want him, and he says he wants you.  Stop being a witless girl and have sex with him.

Relieved that the decision was made, she very nearly melted into him when he resumed the kiss.  She lightly wrapped her lips around his tongue and suckled.  His response was to dig his fingers into her scalp with a guttural moan.  The more she let her mouth tease and play and taste, the more agitated his fingers became, until…

He ripped his mouth from hers with a wet ‘pop’. 

“What the hell?”

Lilah closed her eyes and tried to not let herself be devastated.

He found it.

Tunneling through the hair just below the base of her skull, he’d discovered the scar that she managed to keep hidden with her shoulder-length hair.  The one that was about three inches long, as wide as her pinky finger and a good quarter inch deep.

“Lilah?”

Damn you, Amos.

She lifted onto her toes, hands desperately roaming his naked torso.  “Please,” she breathed up into his parted lips, begging him to forget what he'd just stumbled across.  "Not now.  I already paid for it.  Don’t let him take this, too."