Chapter Text
Snow swirled past the front windows. The first snow of the year. Well, it was December. The year was coming to a close and Abby Sinclair was no closer to her goal of doing something with her life beyond pulling beers and fending off overeager frat boys from the nearby university.
Not that there was anything wrong with bartending. There wasn’t. She loved her job and where she spent most of her waking hours. For the most part, the Dunraven Pub was one of the best jobs she’d ever had. Money was decent. Tips were good. Drunks and those overeager frat boys really were the only downside.
Still… sometimes she wondered if there wasn’t more to be found, somewhere outside the town where she had been born and raised. Something was missing from her life. Trouble was, she couldn’t figure out what that something might be. All she knew was things were’t right, and to make matters worse. Her father had been growing more and more insistent that she come home. And home was to be avoided at all costs.
The door opened, the gust of frigid wind carrying snow into the pub, and she looked up to see Dwalin Fundinson brushing more snow off the top of his bald head. Actually, would bald even be the right term? Because while the top of his head had no hair (his long, dark hair began somewhere around the middle of his head) it instead was quite intricately tattooed instead, as were the backs of his hands, his forearms, and probably at least up to his shoulders. If the rumor mill was to be believed, even his junk was inked, but she could neither confirm nor deny that little tidbit. She knew better than to get to close to Mr. Fundinson. Everyone knew he was trouble. Always ready for a fight. Not one to mince words. Niceties weren’t necessary his strong suit. He scared the shit out of old ladies, probably.
He was, however, a damn fine mechanic, as seemed to be the case with everyone over at Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. They’d been in business since at least the last century and while other garages opened up here and there, none managed to remain in business. Durin drove them all out over time.
He looked to be in a particularly dark mood as he sank onto a barstool at the end of the bar. Abby walked over, menu in hand, and smiled. “Evening, Mr. Dwalin, what can I get for you?”
He looked up and in the low light, it was difficult to tell that his eyes were blue, but she knew they were. A pale blue, almost gray, really. Pale and cold. She had the feeling he’d seen some things that haunted him. Perhaps that was why he always seemed to be spoiling for a fight. But, she didn’t know him well enough to pry.
“What’s on tap tonight? Anything new?”
Abby shook her head. “Bobby knows the regulars aren’t interested in any fads, so same thing every week. So, what’re you in the mood for?”
“Ye have Yuengling Dark Brewed?”
“You know we do.” She smiled as she reached up to slide a pint glass from the rack, and moved to the tap to fill it, then set a napkin before him, and the glass atop it. “Am I starting a tab or is this your only one?”
“Tab.”
She knew he’d say that, although his tabs never ran more than three drinks of any sort. He wasn’t a big drinker and she’d actually seen him nurse a pint more often than not, especially if he came in with the men he worked with. While they could be loud and raucous, the Durin men—Thorin, and his nephews, Fili and Kili—were not rowdy. They weren’t obnoxious. They just kept to themselves, and when they showed up, every woman in the Dunraven lusted after them, no matter how old or young said woman might be. The entire lot of them were too handsome for their own good. And even Dwalin wasn’t the exception to that rule. Plenty of women eyed him up like a side of beef as well, but he rarely returned the sentiment. Still, Abby had never seen him leave the pub with any woman, and she knew plenty of them tried to coax him out.
And that left her curious about Mr. Fundinson, to say the least.
He nursed his beer and you moved further down the bar as two college boys stepped up. One smiled, showing off way too many teeth that were too white and too lupine. “Hey, honey,” he said, “can I get two shots of Jägermeister?”
She ignored the honey, and looked up at him. “Do you have any ID?”
“Sure.” He tugged his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and then flipped it open. “See?”
“Take it out please.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
He sighed, but worked his license free and slapped it on the bar. Out of state. Abby picked it up and as sweetly as you could manage, asked, “Do you have a second form of ID to go with this?”
“A second form of—are you fucking kidding me?” His eyes narrowed. “I’m twenty-one. It says it right there.”
“State law requires a second form of ID with an out of state license.” She handed it back to him. “So, if you have any other ID, hand it over. If not, have a nice evening.”
“You stupid—are you kidding me?“
She folded her arms, staring hard at him. She knew his sort all too well, as did most bartenders. Just barely legal to drink, and yet so terribly put out at having to prove that behind his baby face, was an actual adult.
He stared back, but he couldn’t possibly think he intimidated her. He thought he was a tough-guy, but she dealt with guys like him almost every night of the week and if he thought he’d win the battle, he was sorely mistaken. “What was that?”
“You want more ID?” He rifled through his wallet, yanking out credit cards and store rewards cards to scatter across the bar. “There, more ID. Now can I get my goddamn shot of Jäger?”
She glanced at the arc of cards and didn't even bother to hold back her smirk as she looked back up at him. “No. We’re done and you need to go.” With one hand, she gestured toward the door and with the other, swept the pile of plastic cards toward him.
He scowled. “You’re refusing to serve me?”
“Are ye deaf?” Dwalin broke in, glaring at him. “Ye don’t have the ID, ye don’t get the shots. It’s no’ a difficult concept.”
“Did anyone ask you?”
Abby sighed and turned toward the burly guy in black who’d appeared behind Baby-Face without a sound. “Tony?”
Tony was the bouncer and he nodded while grabbing the kid by the arm. “Time for you to go, tiger.”
“Tiger? What the fuck? What am I? Twelve? Get your goddamned hands off me!”
Abby looked over at Dwalin as Tony tossed the frat boy out of the bar. “Thank you. Next one’s on me.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t mention it. Can’t stand snot-nosed kids who think they know everything. He’s been legal all of five minutes, little shit.”
She couldn’t hold back her smile. “Well, thank you, just the same. Are you hungry? The kitchen’s still open.”
“No, thanks. It’s just been a long day.”
Abby rested her elbow against the bar and leaned toward him. “Want to talk about it?”
He lifted the bottle of porter to his lips and shook his head, rumbling, “Not particularly,” before he took a pull.
“If you change your mind,” she offered up a wink, “I’ll be right over there.”
Winking wasn't normally her style, but somehow, it just… happened. Either way, it was fine because to her surprise, Dwalin offered up a hint of a smile and a wry, “I’ll try to remember that.”
She moved down to the far end to wait on a couple of soccer moms and by the time she was finished with them, Dwalin was gone, a twenty tucked under the bottle. The tip was more than the total of the bill., but it wasn't the first time he’d overtipped and she smiled as she cleared away the bottle and tucked the tip into the jar on the bar alongside the beer taps.
By the time Abby’s shift ended and she cashed out her drawer, it was after two in the morning and she was dead on her feet. But, since she was off tomorrow, she didn't mind so much. She could sleep in, and would do just that.
“‘Night, guys!” She called this over her shoulder at Tony and Bobby, the owner, as she headed toward the doors. She passed through the overheated vestibule to the outer doors and stepped out into the cold and the snow. Her dark blue Jeep Wrangler was parked in the far corner of the lot, under the only streetlight. Not the best place she could park, but she figured she broke even on danger scale that way—well lit, but far away.
It was still snowing, and the breeze had picked up to sift the powder this way and that. It also muffled footsteps, which was why she never heard the college boy come up behind her until his hands slammed into the middle of her back and he shoved to send her flying.
She reeled forward, stumbled over her feet, and slammed down against the pavement. Pain zinged across her scalp as he grabbed and twisted her ponytail to yank. “Not so high and mighty now, are you, bitch?”
She didn’t hear the second set of footfalls, but then frat boy yelped and let go of her and she flipped onto her back in time to see Dwalin throw a punch that dropped the kid like a sack of sand. No whimper. No yelp. Just a fist meeting his face, followed by a dull thud.
“Dwalin?” Abby stared up at him, oblivious to the snow soaking into her jeans, and only just noticed the cold that bit into the rest of her. “What are you doing here this late? You left hours ago.”
He reached down, his thick fingers wrapping about her wrist, and in almost the same motion, tugged her to her feet. “I had a bad feeling about this snot-nosed punk.” He nudged the frat boy with a booted foot, then turned back to her. “Are ye okay?”
“I’m a little shaken up, but okay otherwise.” She looked up at him as she brushed the snow from her ass, from the backs of her legs. Frat boy must’ve hit Dwalin back, for a bruise was forming under his right eye, and below that, a small cut. “Did he hit you?”
“Aye, if ye can call it a hit. I’ve been hit harder by my own kin.” He jerked back as she pressed a gentle finger against it. “Ah, don’t touch it!”
“Oh, don’t be a baby, tough guy.” She couldn't resist teasing him. “Come on, you’ve got a cut under your eye. There’s a first aid kit in my car, let’s just—”
She started back toward her Jeep, only to have him refuse to move as he growled, “It’s fine and I don’t need first aid.”
“You’re bleeding.”
He probed at the small cut beneath his eye with a fingertip. “It’s fine. Barely a cut and more like a scratch.”
“Oh my god, you are a stubborn mule.” Her oversized bag lay on its side on the ground, its contents spewed from it as if the bag had barfed them up, so with a hint of a sigh, Abby crouched to gather everything up.
Dwalin did the same, scooping up her wallet and her keys while she stretched for the book she always carried and her small makeup bag. The adrenaline rush that accompanied Frat-boy’s shove had receded and a wave of exhaustion slammed into her, but still, she met Dwalin’s gaze and managed a smile. “Thank you for your help. I don’t know why you were loitering around here so late, even if you did have a bad feeling, but I’m glad you were.”
“Well, as long as yer all right.” He held out her wallet and keys. “Ye should probably go before he wakes up.”
They rose at the same time and she glanced down at the drooling college boy once more. “What if he presses charges?”
“I’ll remind him that he assaulted ye first.”
Her gaze moved from the heap of humanity to the slide mark in the snow where she’d gone sprawling and she couldn't ignore the icy shiver that now tickled along her spine. If Dwalin hadn’t been there… it could have been so much worse. It probably would have been so much worse.
The involuntary shiver rippled through her again and this time, it did not go unnoticed.
He shrugged out of his leather jacket and moved to drop it around her shoulders. “Ye aren’t wearing a coat, lass. Are ye mad? It’s nearly freezing out here.”
“I don’t like driving in a jacket and I didn’t think I’d need it to go from the car to the bar and vice versa.” Her stomach twisted into a sudden and painful knot and without thinking, she leaned into him. He was warm. He smelled nice—like the snow itself, crisp and clean. And when he drew an arm around her, she actually felt safe.
His arm tightened about her, a hint of snow and some sort of woody cologne wafted up from the heavy leather jacket to tease her nostrils. In all the times that she’d seen him in the Dunraven, in all of the times she’d found her thoughts wandering his way, she’d never imagined this moment would actually materialize. Her heart sped up as his fingers pressed into her upper arm, as he tugged her against his solid body, and for a wild moment, she gazed up and wondered what he would do if she leaned in and brushed her lips along the side of his neck, just below his left ear.
What the fuck?
Where had that come from?
She pressed her lips together, just in case. The urge was there, and instead of fading, it seemed to grow. It had been a long time since any man had touched her, really, and she’d been in the mother of al dry spells, but the fact was, she’d lusted over this mysterious man for months now.
Was it possible that he was interested in her as well?
Probably not. Men like Dwalin did not look twice at women like her. They looked for the dangerous women, the ones who threw all caution to the wind and did what they wanted, when they wanted, how they wanted and to hell with anyone who didn't like it.
In short, the exact opposite of women like her.
Still… she really wanted to kiss him, just to see what it was like.
Would he mind all that much?
Only one way to find out.
But, before she could push up onto her toes, he cleared his throat. “Let me see ye to yer car.”
Her heart sank and her fantasy of his sweeping her into his arms faded into the darkness as reality slapped her dead in the face. “I’m over there,” she pointed toward the lone streetlight, “the Jeep in the corner.”
“Ye shouldn’t be parking out here. Yer too far from, the building.”
“Employees aren’t allow to park closer. Those spaces are for customers.”
“Bobby is a jackass.”
Despite her sagging spirits, Abby still managed to chuckle.. “I won’t argue that.”
Although he stepped away from her, he didn't reach for his jacket and as they crossed the slippery lot toward her car, she looked about. The Jeep was the only car in the lot. “How did you get here? Do you live around here?”
“No,” he shook his head, his long dark hair and beard both fluttered as the breeze picked up to send snow swirling around them. “I don’t take my car out on nights like this. And it’s no weather for a bike, so I’m on foot.”
“A bike? As in a motorcycle?”
He nodded. “Yes, as in a motorcycle.”
Why didn't that surprise her at all? He definitely looked like the motorcycle sort, and she could easily see him astride one. “Isn’t a little cold out for being on a bike?”
He shrugged. “I don’t feel the cold so much, so no. I guess not. But,” he looked up, holding out a hand palm up to catch the silent flakes drifting around them, “like I said, too dangerous to be on my bike on a night like tonight, so I’m on foot instead.”
“On foot? How far do you live from here?”
“Not far. A mile or so that way.” He twisted to point toward the north, where the traffic signal at Main and Lincoln flashed red on two sides and yellow on the other two sides.
“You walked here?”
“I took an Uber.”
She bit back a smile, picturing the look on his driver’s face when said driver got a good look at him. “You must have made him wet his pants. Especially at this hour.”
To her surprise, he grinned. “He did look a wee bit nervous, now that ye mention it.”
“Get in.” She beeped off the alarm, then shrugged out of the jacket to hand it back to him. “The least I can do is give you a ride home. Although,” you looked over at frat boy, “think we should at least nudge him?”
“Fuck him.” Dwalin draped the jacket over his right forearm, then skirted the Jeep’s nose to pull open the passenger door. The Jeep dipped as he climbed in. “It’d serve him right to freeze his nuts off out here.”
“You wont get any argument from me,” she told him, climbing into the driver’s seat. “That’s the least he deserves.”
The engine turned over and she set the heat and defrost to blast to warm everything up before backing out of her parking space. As the headlights sliced across the parking lot, the lump of Frat-Boy stirred. He lifted his head, then slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead with one hand. Abby didn't wait to see what else he’d do, so she shifted into first and drove past him without looking anywhere but straight ahead. She neither knew nor cared if he realized the Jeep was hers, she just wanted to put the whole nightmare behind her.
Dwalin directed her down Main, until they reached the intersection with Arnold, where Durin’s Garage stood on the corner. “Make a left here. I’m off Cherry.”
She glanced over at him. “You live in Cherrywood?”
He nodded. “At the far end of the second court. You can’t miss it.”
She steered into the parking lot of the Cherrywood Apartments. The complex was made up of four separate buildings, with a common lot between them. Most of the spots were identified with what she thought were apartment numbers, although there were a small number of unidentified spaces, which she assumed were for visitors.
Dwalin confirmed that thought as he gestured to an empty slot alongside tarp-draped vehicle she assumed was most likely his motorcycle and for a moment, she wondered what kind of bike he owned. A Harley, no doubt. Something jet black and sexy, with a throaty-sounding engine.
The Jeep’s headlights shone directly into someone’s front bay window, so she killed the lights and pulled the emergency brake to keep them from rolling. “I really do appreciate what you did tonight, Dwalin. I don't want to think about what would’ve happened, if you hadn’t come along when you did.”
In the soft glow of the dashboard lights, his eyes glinted. “Yer welcome, Abby.” His gaze met yours, and when he smiled, it was like being hit with something heavy—like a cast-iron frying pan—only there was no pain following the blow. “Like I said, I had a feeling he was trouble.”
“Well, people say that about you, too, you know.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“So, why did you really come back?”
“I told ye—”
“You left two hours ago. Where were you?”
“I came home and the more I thought about it, the more I worried. The more I worried, the less I could sleep. So, I caught an Uber and came back.”
“You were worried about me?”
“Yeah. I like ye.”
“You like me.”
He nodded. “I like ye. Ye don’t really think it takes me two hours to finish one silly porter, do ye?”
“I thought maybe you were just a lightweight.” She couldn’t resist teasing him. It was a gamble, and she held her breath for a moment.
But then, he chuckled. “I can drink any one of those boys under the table, ye know.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I can. I just choose not to because someone’s got to look out for them.” He looked up and met her gaze again and this time, she’d swear she felt the air crackle around them. Without thinking, she leaned across, over the console, and kissed him.
He looked so fierce and frightening, with his long, dark hair and heavy dark beard and mustache, and all of his ink, but the second their lips met, his hands came up to cradle her face. His thumbs moved along her cheeks in soft, sweeping motions. His lips were just as soft, almost surprisingly so, and they moved against hers with a gentleness she never would have taken him to possess. They parted, the tip of his tongue slowly teasing the perimeter of her mouth before sliding between her parted lips to slip along hers. A sigh rose in her throat at the silken caress, her blood warming a degree a second as his kiss deepened.
It had been a dog’s age since she’d last been kissed and no man had ever kissed her with such heated passion. There was no hesitation, no doubt, in Dwalin’s kiss. Instead, he reached for her, caught her about the waist to urge her over the gearshift, over the center console, over him.
The air grew hotter around them as she came astride him, her knees sinking into the perforated leather seat on either side of his hips, and she slid her arms about his neck as she came flush against him. Beneath the waffle fabric of his dark blue henley, the thick bands of muscle along his shoulders lay firm beneath her fingertips.
He deepened his kiss further, drawing her tongue into the welcoming heat of his mouth, his hands on her hips tightening to pull her more firmly against him. Without thinking, she rocked against him, her head slowly beginning to spin from the delicious friction.
Little by little, the Jeep’s windows fogged up and the heat seemed to work too well. It made her clothes heavy and uncomfortable. His hands slid from her hips up, his fingers curling into the bottom of her black Dunraven Pub tee shirt. They pulled it free from the waist of her Levi’s, and when his hands came flat against her bare skin, she couldn't hold back her shiver. His fingertips were warm and rough, dragging up along the valley of her spine. They snagged in her bra strap. A flick of one wrist, and the band opened and she sucked in a deep breath as—
“Ohhh…” The sigh slipped through her lips as those rough fingertips swept along the outer curve of her breasts. Underwire gave way as he pushed the lace up and her breasts came to rest in his palms. His hands tightened, gently kneading while his thumbs dragged teasingly about both nipples, sending ripples of icy pleasure spiking through her with each achingly slow turn.
The torture was of the sweetest kind, her nipples puckering into taut beads beneath his touch and as they did, a silky heat began to pool between her legs. She had to move against him again, had to feed that growing arousal, had to soothe it in any way she could. A slight shift, and she met the very firm bulge of his cock straining against his jeans, smiling as a low, growly moan bubbled to his lips.
She moved again, shivering as he rocked up to meet her. Oh, sweet Jesus, it had been such a long time since she’d wanted anyone as much as she wanted him at that moment. It had been too long since she’d been with anyone and the fact that it was Dwalin beneath her drove home how much she wanted her dry spell to end with him. He just reeked of danger and sex and everything her mother had always warned her away from, and that was exactly what drew her to him now. She’d fantasized about him almost from the moment she’d met him, so many months ago, and now she was so close to making that fantasy a reality.
He should only know how many nights she’d spent wondering about him, watching him interact with his friends, how he seemed especially protective toward Thorin Durin. Perhaps the rumors were lies and he wasn’t nearly as frightening as those rumors wanted everyone to believe.
And then there was the rumor about his ink…
She shivered yet again. Being with him this way was like being a teenager all over again, hoping like hell they didn’t get caught by the cops because a nosy neighbor saw or heard them. The Jeep’s interior grew warmer by the minute and the only light came from a streetlight on the opposite side of the parking lot. More shadow than light filled the Jeep’s interior, but she didn’t need light to see. She knew what he looked like—trouble. Good trouble.
He pushed her tee shirt higher, his beard tickled her overly sensitive skin as he shifted just enough and his lips replaced his thumb, his tongue slowly swirling about one aching nipple now. Her back bowed of its own, her eyes closing as his hands skimmed up toward her shoulder blades back, then down, his thumbs hooking in the waist of her jeans.The air grew heavy with arousal, with their sighs as he coaxed even more heat from you. Knots seemed to form just below her belly, dropping into her core to spread that fire. She bit down hard on her bottom lip as he caught her nipple in gentle, teasing teeth and flicked just the tip of his tongue over it.
Her fingers wound in the dark hair falling below his shoulders, which was far softer than she thought it would be. Her hips rolled toward him, the skim of her thong against her increasingly slick and achy folds offered only slight relief.
He tried to whisk her tee shirt over her head and when she shifted to let him—
Thunk.
Her head met the roof. “Ow.”
“Sorry, love,” he whispered, letting her tee shirt flutter back down. “Are ye okay?”
She rubbed the small bump on her head. Just touching it sent pain zinging along her scalp, but she tried to ignore it, smiling down at him. Dear God, he was beyond enticing, his eyes heavy-lidded and seductive, his breath as raw and rough as hers as she whispered, “I’m fine.”
His hands came to rest on her hips as another car swung into the lot and for a moment, she felt like a spotlight shone on them. Dwalin cleared his throat. “I should probably let ye go.”
“No,” she said without thinking, “you shouldn’t.”
His fingers tightened on her hips and his devilish grin made the butterflies in her belly flutter with even more force now. “Are ye sure?”
His voice was barely a whisper, a hint of disbelief woven into those three words. He seemed so surprised that she might actually want to be with him, and it made her think back to the rumors that floated around regarding this man, both flattering and unflattering, made her think about how she always thought him cute, but were afraid the unflattering things were truth and so never made mention of her crush.
Maybe they weren’t true at all.
And, to be totally honest, you really were curious about that tattoo…
Catching his face between her palms, she smiled and nodded. “I’m positive.”
He smiled and tugged her back to him for a gentle kiss. Then, she vaulted back into the driver’s seat, killed the engine, and pushed open the door. The frigid air swirled about them as he caught her by the hand to guide her up the narrow walk to the building on the right. Salt gritted beneath their heels as they trudged up the four steps to the main door, which he shoved open. “I’m up the stairs, first door on the left.”
She glanced up the wide staircase, her heart beating faster now. This wasn't something she did all that often, but sometimes, exceptions had to be made and this was definitely one of those times.
He came up behind her, his heavy leather boots thudding dully on the stair treads. Under the bright hallway lights it was easy to see why people were actually afraid of him. He did look like a cross between a Hell’s Angel and a… Hell’s Angel and Abby would not have been at all surprised to find out he did time for killing someone. He looked that fierce. But she also saw hints of that ferocity tempered by the gentle side she had the feeling he didn’t show to many people.
He held a key-laden carabiner in one hand and as he flipped through his keys, she gazed down at his massive hands, trying to figure out what exactly he’d had inked into his skin. But, try as she might, the images made no sense to her. They were unlike any tattoos she’d seen before.
The keys rattled softly as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, then gestured for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the warm front hallway, and then squinted as he threw the switch and the overhead light blazed brightly. A hint of cinnamon and nutmeg hung in the air, along with a whisper of fried onions, which made her smile because she just couldn’t imagine him cooking. Stupid, really. He certainly had to eat, didn’t he?
Besides, the tiny kitchen was just to her right and she saw for herself the dishes in the drying rack. Dwalin Fundinson was a regular guy after all.
The door closed softly behind them, the lock tumblers falling into place as he re-locked the door. “So, this is my place. It’s not much, but it’s home.”
She gazed at him over one shoulder, smiling before she turned back toward the small, square living room. It was spotless, the walls dark gray, the trim bright white. The coffee and end tables were chrome and glass. The furniture had clean lines and fit in with the color scheme. The sofa was dark brown, the armchair cobalt blue. The carpeting was dark blue and looked as if it’d been recently vacuumed. It wasn’t at all how she’d picture his apartment to be at all. This was far homier, even if the chrome didn’t do it for her.
“Not much? It’s fine.”
“Not what ye pictured, is it?” A grin teased at his lips. “Ye can admit it.”
“It’s not, no. And that’s really shitty of me to say, because it’s so terribly judgmental.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what people think when they see me. I count on it.”
“Well, it’s wrong, whether you expect it or not.” She turned toward him. “And I apologize for it.”
He closed the gap between them, looming over her, all broad shoulders and wide chest. Then, he caught her face in his hands, tilted it to his. “Ye don’t have anything to apologize for, love,” he whispered, then bent to just very lightly brush his lips against hers.
That light, teasing kiss sent chills through her. Her eyes closed and she gave into the urge to lean into him. When she did, the hand on her left cheek slid down, along her arm, his thumb brushing the outer curve of her breast. His fingers grazed along her waist, then he slid that hand back up up to cup her left breast. Her back bowed, pressing that breast deeper into his hand. He offered up a gentle squeeze, even gentler kneading.
He teased her a few minutes, then pulled back and with a heavy-lidded, seductive smile, whisked her tee shirt over her head.
“Pretty,” he rumbled, tracing a forefinger along the satiny strap of her shimmering blue lace bra. His eyes visibly darkened as his gaze lowered to the nearly-sheer bra. The lace only just barely hid her breasts, instead offering up enough of a view to be enticing. She had chosen wisely when she had, on impulse, tugged it from the lingerie drawer this morning.
Very wisely, indeed.
The cups were unlined, just naked, stiff lace that aided in his caress when his thumb brushed over her nipple. She bit down hard on her bottom lip at the sensual scrape against her beaded nipple. Heat became fire, swirling through her, growing stronger with each slow, teasing rotation of that wide thumb. Desire pooled between her thighs, the dampness heady and sweet as the knots inside her tightened. She ached with need, for his touch, his lips, his fingers, anything that might offer ups the release she desperately craved.
His gaze smoldered as it locked with hers, her heart racing as his fingers swept lightly along her belly, hooking in the waist of her jeans. A gentle twist and he slid the button through its hole. A gentle tug, and the zipper slid down.
His eyes darkened, his fingers inching beneath the scalloped lace edge of her thong. The tingles came softly at first when he slid into her damp curls, but grew stronger when those fingers slipped into her slick folds.
“Mmmm…” Abby couldn't hold back her soft moan, her eyes closing of their own at the gentle caress. His rough fingers glided silkily through her heat, and she shivered when they swept over the delicate flesh of her clit. Her hips moved of their own at the pleasure that sang through her with that lightest of touches, her body humming now as he neared her slick entrance. Dear God, she wanted to fuck him. Wanted him to just fuck her. And when he swirled a single finger about that opening, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth once more. Her head spun wildly now, gaining speed as he teased her, as he slid that teasing finger inside her, only to withdraw it quickly, before she could tighten about it.
He did it again, plunging deep, withdrawing fast, smiling as her breath hitched. Fire swelled, burning through her as he slid deeper this time, and slowly drew it back, but didn't slide free of her. Another plunge. Another swirl. Her body tightened about him, desire singeing her as he continued his onslaught of slow, deep strokes.
“Dwalin…” She could only barely form his name, could only whisper it plaintively. That thick finger teased her into near-madness, and the harder she clenched him, the harder he thrust with it. Her hips rocked to meet each caress, her body tightened about him in a desperate attempt to hold him inside her, and when he crooked his finger slightly to stroke that oh-so-sweet spot along her front wall?
“Please…” It was all she could muster, her orgasm building with each light touch. She shivered against him, tried to reach for him, for whatever part of him she might reach that would allow her to tease him the same way. Her body begged for him, begged for the release that she so craved.
She tried to savor the pleasure, the fiery sensations screaming through her, but it wasn't enough. That skilled finger had her teetering on the edge of madness and she desperately wanted him to shove her into the abyss.
“Dear God, love,” his voice was a gravelly purr, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “I’ve been waiting for ye for so long…”
“Why…” Her thoughts came more slowly still, like fat, lazy slugs, refusing to form into any sort of coherent pattern, the need to come strangling her as she clung to him. “Why didn’t you say—say anything?”
He slowly eased his finger from her, slid it through her slickness, over her clit once more, and then moved to plunge it back inside her. “A girl like ye would never want a guy like me, that’s why.”
“You—you’re wrong. Because I absolutely do want you…” Abby’s head spun so badly, she almost felt faint. He found that swelling again, stroked it to send fire radiating through her and that was her undoing. She exploded, her orgasm swift and hot and hard and she surrendered to the fiery bliss consuming him, that had her squirting against him. Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper as she throbbed and squeezed about that finger, as she arched and writhed against him. “Oh… holy… oh, yes…”
Dwalin didn't let up until she went limp against him, and then, as the wave receded, he slid his finger free and bent to slash his mouth over hers.
Abby wrapped herself around him, tugging at his dark gray henley to drag it up toward his shoulders. He pulled free just long enough to sweep it over his head, and then he was back, his lips seizing hers once more, his kiss hot and hard and demanding.
The rest of their clothing got in the way and was tugged off to be tossed aside as quickly as possible and when no more remained, she let her hands wander over his solid body, from the bulging muscle of his upper arms and shoulders, down to the thick slabs of muscle along his thighs and calves. She explored him with feverish hands, scorching lips, and teasing tongue until he trembled against her.
But, as she moved to kneel before him, he caught her. “No, love,” he growled, “I’m no’ finished with ye.”
He maneuvered her around him, backed her toward the sofa. She sank into the soft cushions, cradled by them as he sank to his knees before her and bent to press a hot kiss into her belly. The cushion shifted beneath her as she gripped a corner when he moved lower. Once more, her eyelids were so fucking heavy, but she would not let them close. Oh, no. She wanted to watch him, wanted to see what he did to her, wanted to see him being so gentle, so loving, with her.
His first stroke came lightly, the tip of his tongue darting against her, but then…
Oh, but then… He shifted and went from short, teasing flicks to long, silky strokes, his heat melding with hers. He swirled his tongue about her clit, down along it, teased her slowly up to the very tip of the aching bead, then down along the opposite side. And with each leisurely pass, her body trembled a bit more. A second orgasm took root, softer at first, but as he applied more pressure, that softness grew into tingly hot fire. He didn’t let up, even as she writhed beneath him. She couldn’t help it. It just felt so fucking good… Everything inside her pulsed in time to his strokes, to his swirls, her hips rocked to meet each velvety caress. She couldn’t hold back her moan as the second wave rushed toward you with even more force than the previous one. It swelled, rising and cresting until—
“Dwalin!” She erupted in a fiery flash, hips moving of their own, grinding up against him to draw out the ecstasy engulfing her entire body. Pleasure, white-hot and radiant, swallowed her in one gulp and she was powerless to stop it, but savored each throbbing tingle, each delectable sensation that engulfed her, that left her spent and sated and gasping for breath.
He brought her down far more gently than he’d thrust her to the summit, and she sank into the cushions, her heart racing, her entire body tingling, and the need to treat him to the same pleasure sweeping through her.
She had to force her eyes to open and when they did, she drank in the sight of him, between her thighs, with an expression of utter satisfaction on his fiercely handsome face. His laugh came across her overheated skin like a teasing caress, and with out saying a word, he bent over her to press a gentle kiss into the curve of her inner thigh, his beard soft as a whisper against her still-too-sensitive skin. Another kiss over her hip. Her belly. Up between her breasts, and when his mouth found hers, she felt it through to the center of her being.
She’d had never realized just how hot he was until now. The ferocity factor always seemed to temper everything else. But the reality was, he was so very handsome, in a rough and tumble sort of way. His upper body lay heavy with muscle that came from hard work and not from a gym, and his left arm was sleeved in black and gray ink that stretched over across his chest as well. Some of the ink was hidden behind a spread of dark hair interspersed with silver, but she could still see it, even if it was a little difficult.
And that ink also stretched down into his flat belly, more visible because the silver-tipped dark hair thinned into a trail running down the middle of his stomach to his navel, then resumed below, where it joined a thicker, coarser spread of dark hair. She reached out to trace one of the thick black ink lines down along his ribs, down to his hip, where it angled toward that thatch.
He caught her hand in his, snaked his free arm about her waist, and gently drew her up from the sofa. He bent, his mouth found hers and as he deepened his kiss, he swung Abby up into his arms.
His bedroom was the end of the narrow hallway, across from the bath. Her belly whooshed as he bent to set her on his very comfortable bed without breaking that same kiss. When he did draw back and his gaze fell completely on her as she lay naked before him, those pale eyes darkened and he growled, “Damn, yer fucking beautiful.”
He bent over her, hands on either side of her shoulders, looming over her to block out all that was around you as he came gently against her. The crisp hair on his chest teased her nipples back into stiff peaks, the thigh he eased between hers pressed just right against her mound to get her arousal flowing once more. She ached to explore his body, to let her hands run over his skin, over the rounded curve of his ass, along the length of his muscled thighs.
She reached for him, curled her fingers about his hard, hot, utterly impressive cock, then smiled when he exhaled with a low, “Ohhh…”
He arched into her touch, into her grasp, and more than anything, she wanted to look to see if the tattoo rumor was true, but it was too dark even if she could get herself into the right position. The hallway light offered up just enough to make out his silhouette, to see how his eyes glittered as his gaze locked with hers, but that was about it. The question would remain unanswered for now.
A car alarm sounded in the distance. A door slammed somewhere below them. He shifted just a fraction of an inch to settle between her legs, which parted of their own to accommodate his hips.
He slid through her folds, her slickness making him simply glide through them. A low growl rumbled from him. He arched away from her, reached a hand between them, and then she felt him press against her.
He breached her, his thick cock stretching her as he fit it inside her, and she shivered at the sensations he sent scorching through her. He teased her, filled her inch by slow, delicious inch, until she were ready to simply melt around him without his offering up even a single thrust yet.
“Oh, Abby, love…” His burr thickened with each whispered word as he moved slowly inside her. “Ah, ye feel so very good…”
Abby wrapped herself around him, meeting each thrust with a tilt of her hips. His lips claimed hers, slowly. Deeply. His tongue moved in sync with his hips, teased her, drew hers back into the welcoming heat of his mouth. With each thrust, pleasure spiked thorough her, stronger and sweeter, and soon, another climax steadily built.
“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers.
“What?”
He nodded, offering up another lazy, deep thrust. “I have, love. Ye have no idea what I’d be thinking, watching ye, night after night…”
The thought of him sitting on his barstool, watching her sent a delicious shiver through her. She bent her legs, pressed her knees into his sides and smiled as he let out plaintive moan. “So tell me now,” she whispered, as he thrust harder now.
Another deep, hard thrust had her trembling around him. Dear god, his control was amazing, his thrusts were so powerful, and yet, he managed to maintain his steady pace when the fire within her built so quickly, she wanted only for him to just jackhammer them both into oblivion.
He sped up, arching hard as he growled, “This, love. This is what I’d be thinking.”
As he spoke, his thrusts came swifter, more powerful, and that was the end of any conversation as felt the first tingles of another orgasm erupted deep within her core. She clenched around him, squeezed him as he neared the end. His breath came in harsh gasps, his fingers curled into the dark blue comforter beneath her as he fought for leverage.
Abby rocked her hips, meeting each thrust as he surged deep. He sucked in a rough breath, his eyes closed. She melted around him, and as she shattered, he came at the same time. He arched hard, his body jerking with each pulse, and when he finished, he sank against her, his head coming to rest against her breast. He trembled in her arms, his lips grazing the curve of her right breast as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met ye, love…”
Abby smiled into the darkness, letting her fingers smooth over his dark hair, which was cool and silky to the touch. “You should’ve spoken up sooner.”
“I didn’t think I stood a chance with ye.”
“Why?”
He lifted his head to regard her with sleepy eyes. “Look at ye and look at me. Why would I think otherwise?”
With a low groan, he gently eased from her, then rose to pad into the adjoining bathroom, where he emerged with a hand towel. “Girls like ye don’t look at guys like me.”
“Nonsense.” She sat up with a wince, then took the towel to clean herself up. “Of course we do, but we’re also afraid of you to a certain extent.”
“Afraid of me?” He flopped onto his back alongside you.
“Dwalin, you are terrifying and you know it. You have to know that.”
He looked over and grinned. “I count on that, actually.”
“How did I know?” She shook her head and went back to toweling off the spend still dotting her inner thighs. One of the less pleasant aspects of sex, but definitely one of the most necessary.
When she finished, he took the towel from her and padded back to the bathroom where she assumed he cleaned up as well, and when he returned, he stretched out alongside her.
“You know,” she told him, trailing her fingers through the thick mat of hair across his chest, “how am I supposed to know you were lusting over me from afar if you don't say anything?”
This time, when he gazed over at her, his eyes were soft, but his expression had grown somewhat guarded. “So, if I asked ye out?”
“I would probably say yes.”
“Want to go out sometime? Dinner, maybe? A movie?”
“I’d love to, Dwalin. As long as you promise we can do this again.”
He chuckled, reaching for her. “Do I look fool enough to turn ye away?”
Abby didn’t resist as he drew her atop him. He felt very nice beneath her, and a moment later, she was even more thankful that she had the next day off because with the way he swept teasing kisses along her neck, it wouldn’t be long before she wanted only to claw open his back while he fucked her but good again.