They climbed down from the roof near ten o'clock. They had talked- just talked- for hours, much after the sun had completely set and night took its place. Jack had never talked to anyone for more than three-or even two- hours before, let alone a female. She was captivating, her life and her stories. He just listened. And when he looked up, the sky was dark and the sunlight had vanished. He felt like he was in a different place, somewhere new. He was somewhere far away with Talia.
She was smiling more than she ever had before, her eyes lighting up as she laughed at his dry humor, and he noticed his body language changed as he sat on the roof with her, leaning towards her, turning to face her. He was drawn to her; she was no longer cold and distant. She was close to him and he wanted to be even closer. He was drawn to her, like the sun.
"No, I wasn't making fun of your accent again," she laughed as her bare feet landed on the rug in her living room.
"I think ya were," he said as he climbed in behind her.
But he didn't let her say another word. He had stepped forward, closing the tiny gap that had been between them all night. He pressed his lips to hers, stifling his hunger only to create a new one. He craved to taste her and smell her, to feel her against him. He opened his eyes and saw her looking back at him. Her eyes were soft but piercing and they sent chills up his arms. He kissed her again, his instincts taking over, and didn't stop.
They found themselves against the wall, Jack's hands ridged against the wallpaper, and she was removing his coat. Afraid she would stop, he didn't part from her lips. He weaved his fingers into her hair long hair, gripping it. He couldn't get close enough.
After fighting with his shirt, Talia's fingers found refuge on his chest, trailing over his skin. His shirt and coat lay on the floor at his feet. He looked at her and she looked back, wondering if this would be too much for him; she didn't want to take him down a road only to leave him there, stranded.
But he kissed her again before she could say anything, this time more fiercely, and she breathed him in, filling her lungs. He knew when to shut her up…
He suddenly gripped her waist and lifted her, holding her up as he kissed her. She wrapped her legs around him and gasped as his mouth trailed down her neck, his tongue tasting her skin. She gripped his shoulders and squeezed her thighs around him.
They never made it to the bed. They stayed there, against the wall, and slid down slowly to the floor, their hands ripping away their clothes as if they were burning them, their bare skin alive and sensitive to every touch. The anger, the passion, the pain; every emotion they had ever had towards one another was between them, gleaming in their eyes as they looked at each other. Both bare, both exposed.
Talia was terrified to take him further but she couldn't slow her motions. She couldn't stop even if she had wanted to. She wanted it to last forever, to not wake up. Such tenderness and intensity; it was nothing she had ever experienced before. Her nails dug into his back and he growled in her ear as he rolled on top of her, arching his back. His hands were in tight fists on the rug, his forearms and shoulders taught. He was aggressive and yet he praised her body; his lips caressed her until she cried out, aching for him.
And then, he finally took her.
He felt wonderful.
Her eyes shot open and she couldn't see anything; she was blind. She could only feel him. There was nothing except for him.
Never had they imagined being like this together, their skin slicked with sweat, their hair matted to their foreheads, their breathing ragged in their ears. Talia didn't know why this was so new…every movement, every wave of pleasure was foreign to her body. She thought she was dying only to be brought back again within the same second.
And he wasn't using her. He wanted this just as much as she did, if not more.
She arched her back, crying out, and she held on to him, not wanting him to stop. She screamed, feeling the sweetest release, and he yelled as he placed his hands on the wall over her head, pulling away from her, their bodies no longer tied to each other.
Time stopped and all they could hear was their breathing, raw and ragged.
She lay under him, staring up at his face. She breathed slowly, the air stinging her lungs, and she searched his face, wondering if he had felt what she had just felt.
He lowered himself onto her, pressing his chest to hers as he panted, and he rested against her. He rested his forehead on hers and his muscles shook slightly. He was shivering.
She fought to speak, "Why did you stop?"
He could barely catch his breath, "What?" He read her eyes for a moment before understanding. "I… I didn't want ya ta get…ya know, pregnant."
She was quiet and then she nodded slowly, not knowing what to say.
It was the first time a man had put her first.
He exhaled and dropped his head to the crook in her neck, his body relaxing. Talia rested her neck, letting her head fall to the side.
"Did I hurt ya?" he asked huskily.
She closed her eyes, smiling, "No, Jack Kelly. You did everything else but that."
He smirked and rose up on his hands to look at her. She met his eyes and he stared at her for a minute.
"Sullivan," he said.
"What?" she asked softly.
He licked his lips, "My name. It's not Jack Kelly. It's Sullivan, Francis Sullivan."
A smile crept across her lips, her eyes glinting wickedly, "You lied to me."
He laughed once, "Well, ya weren't the first."
She laughed, "You lied to me, cowboy."
"I wanted ya ta know," he said seriously, his eyes gentle.
She read his dark eyes and then turned her face to kiss his forearm, her plump swollen lips making him shiver.
He watched her for a moment, seeing a new side to her. He doubted that she had showed this side to any of the men she had been with, this softness. He was finally behind her wall.
He lowered himself and kissed her mouth. She tasted better than any beer, any candy, better than anything he had ever tasted.
Soon he fell to his side next to her and they lay together, sometimes smiling and laughing at nothing. And sometimes they just stared at each other, wondering how they had come to this point and why they hadn't gotten here sooner.
Then she rose and went to the door of her bedroom, half hiding behind the doorframe as she looked back down at him, beckoning him.
From the floor, his eyes drank in her body, the perfect curves of her hips, legs, breasts.
She smiled at him and he rose too and strolled to her side, leaning over her at the doorframe, his hands crawling up her back. She was so soft.
She left him and went to the bed, resting on her back. She didn't ask him to stay or go; he had a choice. But he followed her and crawled onto the bed, resting against the pillows, watching her.
This was the part that was really foreign to her: what happens after? Men threw their money at her and left.
She moved slowly, hesitantly, as she turned on her side, facing him, watching his eyes look at her.
And he was thinking the same thing, how men left her so quickly, not realizing they had just had the most beautiful woman in New York…in anywhere.
And he wasn't going anywhere.
"C'mere," he said roughly.
He reached for her and pulled her towards him, on top of him. After a moment, she relaxed and rested her chin on his chest. And they stayed that way for what felt like hours. They didn't say anything else. She only traced her fingers over his chest and he watched her until his eyes began to droop. She stared at him as he fell asleep and soon she felt his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
There was pain in her eyes as she watched him, knowing the night was ending and that soon it would be a new day. What would happen then?
"You scare me, cowboy," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her. She reached for his face, to brush aside his light brown hair, but she stopped and pulled her fingers away.
But soon she fell asleep too and her breathing matched his.