Page 21 of Faded Rhythm

Sable

The air between us feels strange. Alien. Like an intrusion or an obstacle. I need him on me. In me. But he seems content to hover above me, his arms braced on either side of my head, his dark eyes wild and searching. His body is tense, like he’s holding back a part of himself I haven’t seen yet.

I want that part.

I reach up and slide my fingers along his jaw, feeling the stubble scrape against my skin.

“What are you waiting for?” I murmur.

He dips his head, kissing me softly. Then, “I want you to ask me nicely.”

“Excuse me?”

Another soft kiss. “You want this dick, right? Ask me nicely.”

“Why are you playing games?”

“It’s not a game. You’re a southern girl. Show me some hospitality.”

I curl my fingers around his chin and squeeze. “You like having power over me.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he slips his tongue into my mouth and steals the air I breathe.

God, he kisses so good, I fold instantly. Not only am I willing to ask him nicely for some dick, I’m willing to crawl over hot coals just to feel the tip.

“King. Will you please make love—“

“Say ‘fuck’.”

“Will you please fuck me?”

He lets some of his weight settle onto me, almost like he’s rewarding me for my obedience. Which turns me on. “Why?” he demands. “Tell me why.”

“Because I want you,” I say, arching into him, needing more.

He nods. “Now tell me what you like. Usually, I figure that out for myself, but we don’t have time for the research phase.”

“I like it slow,” I rush out. “Sensual.”

He presses his dick against my pelvis and it feels like heaven.

“But sometimes, I like to be treated like a slut. You know what I mean? Fucked hard and fast. Getting my hair pulled. Talking shit to me. Maybe…degrading me a little bit? But in like a loving but sexy way…” I trail off. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“I see that.” He nips my bottom lip. “Hearing it wasn’t much easier.”

“What do you like?”

He kisses my neck. “I’m easy. I like bustin’ a nut.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say, smiling. “You’re like…a robot. A machine.”

“Your husband ain’t fucked you in months, so I bet you’re well acquainted with machines.”

“So you’re an asshole, too.”

“I’m whatever gets you off, sweetheart.”

I stare into his eyes. “You have too many clothes on.”

Something flashes across his face. He looks…vulnerable. But it’s gone just as quickly as it came, and he sits up, putting more space between us.

He lifts his shirt over his head and I’m quickly reminded. That’s his weakness. His sore spot. His insecurity. My eyes want to zero in on that imperfect part of him, but I hold his gaze, never wavering. He looks grateful.

The boxers come off next. I don’t even pretend I don’t wanna see the dick. Even in the dark, I see it’s just as monstrous as it felt.

When he settles on top of me again, there’s no more talking.

No more negotiation or demand. Just raw, animal attraction.

He pushes inside me with no fanfare, and the stretch is the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

I grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, eyes wide as he fills me completely.

“Oh my God,” I gasp.

He doesn’t move right away. He just stays there, buried deep, his forehead kissing mine, panting like he’s just run a race.

“ Fuck . You don’t even know how good you feel, do you?”

Sadly, I don’t. Brett made sure of that. And maybe that’s part of the problem here. Maybe that’s what’s making me so desperate and thirsty. I don’t think I could survive sleeping next to another man who didn’t want me.

“Fucking perfect,” he mumbles into my neck. “I knew it.”

“Go,” I beg. “Please. Stop torturing me.”

He pulls out almost all the way, then slams back into me with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs. And then again. And again.

I’m gone.

It’s over.

I could die right now in his arms.

Then he stops. His hand tangles in my hair, his lips finding the hollow of my throat.

“I’m not gentle,” he says. “I don’t know how to do this halfway.”

“I don’t want halfway,” I say. “I want all of you.”

My eyes drop, finding his scars, barely visible in the darkness. Then, he moves again, and they get lost in the slide of his body against mine, the slap of skin against skin, the way he grinds into me, hitting the perfect spot with every thrust.

I cry out, once, twice, more times than anyone could count. He moans with me, grabs my thighs, pushes them higher, thrusting deeper.

“Tell me it’s mine,” he growls.

“It’s yours, King.”

He shakes his head, his eyes finding mine as he slows his movements. “My name is Julian.”

I suck in a breath. It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful man.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say my name.”

“Julian...” I say, almost a whisper.

His eyes roll back as he grinds himself deeper.

“Julian.” It’s a moan this time. My climax is building slowly, a relentless, pulsing heat that starts low in my belly and spreads like wildfire.

His hand finds mine, lacing our fingers above my head. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper.

“Right there,” I murmur. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ll never stop.”

Our rhythm builds, our bodies slick with sweat, our movements finding the perfect unison. It’s a pleasure I’ve only known once before, a feeling so good, it feels like love, even though I know it isn’t. Every sound he makes, every groan and whispered curse, feeds the fire burning through me.

“I’m close,” I gasp, clutching his back.

“I got you, baby.”

And he does. I know he does. So I let go, crying out his name as my body trembles and shatters around him.

The pleasure is so intense, it borders on pain. It’s electricity, and heat, and light, and energy, and it’s simultaneously taking over my body and pouring out of me in waves.

“So fucking pretty when you cum,” he whispers as his strokes stutter, just a little.

I know what that means, and I can’t be sure if it’s my possible impending death or the pleasure that’s making me lose my right mind, but I lock my ankles at his lower back, holding him hostage.

I have the weapon this time. I’m in charge.

“Sable…” his eyes roll back. “I’m—“

“I know,” I say, undulating to meet him stroke for stroke. “Cum inside me, Julian. For once in your life, enjoy yourself.”

He opens his eyes, meeting my gaze just as rain begins to fall outside. It pounds against the roof as Julian pounds into me.

“Do it,” I urge. “It’s yours, remember?”

His face twists into a grimace as he thrusts harder, chasing his release. He cums not a minute later, his body locking as he buries himself in me with a hoarse groan.

I love how warm it feels when he floods me.

“Fuck.” He relaxes on top of me, burrowing his face into my neck. “ Fuck , Sable. You should have warned me.”

“About what?” I drag my fingers lightly up his spine, feeling the skin and sweat.

He sucks in a breath. “Your husband is a fucking idiot.”

“I agree,” I murmur. “But that’s not my problem anymore.”

He kisses my neck, then rolls off of me, coming to rest on his back. He throws an arm over his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna sleep good tonight.”

“Is that what sex does for you?”

“ Good sex.”

I smile at that, but it quickly fades when my eyes drop to his chest. They’re hard to make out in the darkness, but I see enough.

I roll onto my side to face him, sticking out my hand. I rest it on his taut abs, then slowly work my way up until my palm is flat against his chest. Some of his scars are flat, but others are raised and rough. I’m barely breathing as I trace my fingers over them, not sure how he’ll react.

“Is this what happens when you’re compromised?” I say softly.

His abs cave in as he exhales. “Why do you care?”

“Because. You’re a mystery to me. You know everything about me and my life, but you’re a stranger to me.”

“Your fault for fucking a stranger, I guess.”

“Julian…”

He stares up at the ceiling while I stare at his face, trying my hardest to read him. He’s completely still until he brings his hand up and settles it on top of mine, pressing my palm against his scars.

“Shrapnel wound,” he says quietly. “Afghanistan.”

I shift, moving closer, putting more of me on him to soothe the sting of the memory.

“We got some intel about a compound just outside Herat. A weapons cache. We sat on it for a month or so. The day we raided it, it was supposed to be empty.” He takes a deep breath. “They didn’t give a fuck if it was empty. We were going in either way.”

“There were people in there?”

He nods. “Civilians. Women. Kids.”

His eyes close. I feel his heart pounding beneath my palm like it’s trying to break free from his chest.

“There was a woman,” he says, and the words sound like they hurt coming out. “She always wore a red scarf.”

“Always?”

He pauses like he realizes he said too much.

“I did recon on that place for weeks. I’d seen her before,” he admits.

“That red scarf is burned into my memory. It was bright. Like a target, almost.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“When we breached, she started screaming, mostly in Pashto. She ran toward one of the back rooms. I thought…I don’t know.

I thought maybe she was running to save her kids. I wanted to help, so I followed her.”

His voice goes slightly hoarse.

“I didn’t see the tripwire until it was too late.”

He clears his throat. Swallows hard.

“It blew half the fucking wall apart,” he says, his tone hollow and flat now. “She died instantly. I got thrown twenty feet into a metal cabinet. Caught most of the shrapnel in my chest. I was in the hospital for almost six weeks.”

He looks at me now. Really looks. I can see the war behind his eyes, a battle he’s been living in since that day. I don’t think he remembers what peace feels like.

“I still see her sometimes,” he murmurs. “When I close my eyes. I hear the sound of the blast. The blood. It—“ He stops himself, cutting off his words.

I reach up and cradle his face. “Julian…”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he says. “I don’t talk about it. I hate talking about it.”

“But you did. You told me. You must have needed to talk about it.”

He turns his head away, staring up at the ceiling again. “Just had a moment of weakness. That’s all.”

“There’s nothing weak about opening up to someone.”

He lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “It is when it gets people killed.”

Silence hangs in the air. I want him to keep talking, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man you push. So I wait, my hand still splayed over his scars.

“Women are my weakness,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “My blind spot.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He blows out a breath. “A military therapist informed me that I have unresolved issues from being abandoned by my mother. I don’t know that I agree with that assessment.”

He looks over at me again, and I see something softer in his eyes.

“I just like women,” he says. “I wanna save them, especially mothers. Maybe I have a superhero thing going on, I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” I say softly. “But that’s not a weakness, Julian. That’s humanity.”

He scoffs. “Not in my line of work.”

“If you didn’t have humanity, I wouldn’t be alive right now. Right?”

He doesn’t answer, but his arm wraps around me tighter. I feel like he’s telling me the truth in the way he holds me.

So I, in turn, tell him my truth…I lift up and place my lips where my fingers were. I kiss every scar, softly, carefully. Air rushes out of him as every brush of my lips tells him it’s okay, that I see him, that he’s not a monster or weak. He’s just Julian, and that’s enough for me.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. He reaches over and picks it up, staring at the number. I want him to silence it, but he doesn’t. As soon as he clicks to answer, I hear the hideous voice of the man who was once my weakness.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Julian glances at me. “What is this in reference to?”

I stifle a laugh. If there’s one thing Brett can’t stand, it’s feigned cluelessness.

“Nigga, you know exactly what this is about!” he screams. “Where the fuck is my wife?”

“The morgue, maybe? Did you check with the police?”

“You know you’re dead, right? Both of you treacherous motherfuckers are good as dead.”

Julian’s face hardens, all traces of amusement gone. “The minute you threaten my life, you become my enemy. You sure you wanna do that? Think long and hard, fuck nigga. You know I’ll find you first. I’m built for this shit.”

Brett’s quiet on the other end.

“That’s what the fuck I thought. Call my phone again and you gon’ have to get your affairs in order.”

He clicks off and tosses his phone back on the nightstand.

“Yeah. He gotta go.”