Passing Through (Love/Hate Part Three)

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Part Forty Two

 Chapter Forty Two

His teasing was coming back to haunt him, because she wasn't the only one with an unscratched itch.

"I wanted to do this right..." he breathed against her neck.

She bit his shoulder through his shirt, "this feels right to me."

Holding her at arm's length, ignoring the raging hard on he was sporting...again, he shook her gently. "This isn't the place, and I've told you, we need to talk, we need to know where this is going."

She sighed, "a jock, back in school. He broke my heart, I lost everything...I was scared it would happen again."

He studied her for a moment, it all seemed so simple, too simple, "and now?"

She shrugged, "now I cannot live another night without you fucking scratching my itch."

He laughed, a frustrated Natasha made for a funny one, who knew? But it was all still to simple, and whilst she feared for her own heart, her own future, he knew he was investing time, effort and his emotions in this too. He couldn't lose her again, he too was putting his heart on the line. She needed to know that.

"Let's get out of here."

She bit her lip as he watched for her response, and it almost killed him. Not waiting for her acquiescence, he turned, dragging her by the hand. Out into the cool night.

"Where are we going?"

Bo paused, realising that she was struggling to run at his speed in her heels.

"Back to the car, before I do something indecent in public."

Natasha stopped, and rather than drop her hand, he stopped too, "is that so bad?"

Turning to her, he laughed, "we almost fucked in the ice rink car park last night, did you enjoy it that much?"

Flushed with sudden embarrassment, she shrugged, then murmured, "I just want..."

She wanted him, she had no need to finish the confession. Smiling, he cupped her face in his hands, "exactly what I want. But we need to take stock. Not regret something a little later."

He wanted to punch himself, this was what he wanted, he had no idea where his moral compass had appeared from, for he was no gentleman. Not usually.

"We'll get in the car, and talk...if you still feel the same in an hour..." he left that hanging there, because he had no idea where this was going. He could have just blown the chance to get another taste of the woman who was driving him crazy.

The walk back to the car was torture, but then sat beside Natasha, her bottom lip secured between her teeth, something that caused a surge to hit his groin. They were leaving the centre of the city before he spoke.

"You OK?"

She nodded, eyes still on the windscreen, but didn't say a word. Bo wanted to shrug, instead, he slipped a hand and laid it on her thigh. She flinched, and he rode that for a moment, then she relaxed and he smiled. With relief. It was like traversing a tightrope, once careful step forward, then an equal one back. It was difficult. But it was a prize he wanted to win, more than anything.

Another five minutes passed, before she added, "sorry."

"For what?" He glanced at her again. And saw her slump into the seat.

"The mixed messages."

He digested that for a moment, then offered, "I don't think anything is mixed, If anything, you offer me the most clarity in my life."

Silence again, as he drove further. The outskirts of their home town appearing on the horizon.

"I'll drop you home?" He suggested. And again it was met with a nod, and any sign of excitement or promise that the evening had promised earlier.

As he pulled up outside her home, he turned to her with a sigh, "I guess I'll see you around?"

It was then she touched his hand, sliding her fingers into his, "come up to mine?"

It was offered as a question, but she didn't look like she was about to accept no for an answer. Dragging him by the hand across the road, she was laughing when she finally made it to her door. Something that made him smile. It had all got so serious.

"Maybe I should go home?"

This time it was a question, not a statement.

Taking both her hands in his, she looked up at him, "I don't want that, for a long time I did..."

"I've worn down your defences?" He asked almost guiltily.

She shook her head, "you've treated me better than anyone ever has. That means something."

Bo rolled his eyes, "is that as good as I get?"

In response, she merely shrugged, "it's more than I thought I'd ever have."

There was so much sadness in that statement that he wanted to grab her, hug her and make her realise that she deserved so much more.

But before he could equate those thoughts into actions, she'd opened the door that let to the stairs, and the home above her cafe, and he was following her up the stairs.

She was burning, inside and out. Whatever her brain told her, whatever was morally right, or at least right for her long term, was incidental. What she needed was Bo, and there was an urgency in her that she'd never felt before in all of her thirty one years.

She fumbled with the key, needing a few attempts to get it into the lock, then when the door fell open she stepped in, feeling him close on her heel.

Spinning, she placed her hands on his chest, and forced him back against the hallway wall. An oof left his chest as she caught him unawares, but within mere seconds, she'd wrapped her arms around him and planted her lips on his.

"Are you sure?" He breathed against her skin as he lowered his lips to her neck.

She nodded, "yes."

With a moan, he bit her softly, then added, "it's not just now, not just sex."

"I get it," she sighed.

His hands ran up her spine, as he once again found her lips, "this is everything, me and you..."

He paused, waiting until she nodded, then he tugged at her dress, pulling it up over her hips, running her hands over her thighs to her buttocks, fingers massaging the skin not covered in lace.

"You drive me wild," he breathed, "I've never wanted anyone so much."

And that was music to her ears, they should get to the bedroom, but she loved the fact that she had him pressed up against the wall, under her control...even though he had half exposed her, was twice her size, and watching her like a lion with his prey. At any moment he was going to take charge, she wasn't stupid. But she was enjoying it, his thigh was between hers, and she was grinding against him, all the while his hands on her arse pulling her closer, Her hands were on his chest, feeling the solid body that his shirt hid, then she was unbuttoning it slowly.

His warm skin was smooth under her fingers, and his moans as she ran her hands over his flat nipples, were swallowed by her lips.

"Bedroom." It was a growl, and made her warm throughout. She made to protest, but his hands cupping her backside, merely lifted her off the floor and he stalked through her lounge and towards the bedroom. Not fighting that, she lowered her lips to his neck and bit him softly.

"Fuck!" He growled, tossing her onto the mattress.

Grinning, she back pedalled, sliding up to the headboard, watching as he threw off his open shirt, then slowly, and very deliberately, he unzipped his trousers, sliding them down to reveal his tight white boxers, that clung to his dark skin. She was transfixed, and all the time, his eyes stayed on hers.

When she licked her lips, an impulse, not a connived action, he tipped his head back and moaned, then he started the stalk across the bed on his knees, reaching her ankles, and parting them to climb along between her calves, knees, then thighs. Not stopping until he was powering over her.

His chest level with her face, until he sat back on to his heels. Her heart was pounding, this suddenly felt like the first time all over again.

From that vantage point, he reached for the hem of her little black dress, which had slid back down over her knickers, and shimmied it up, over her hips, tummy, then breasts. With a grunt he threw it over his head, then sighed as he looked at her, up and down slowly.

"Fucking perfection," he murmured as he cupped her jaw, tilting her head up to look at him. "You have no idea..."

With that, he pressed his lips to her, forcing her further back into the headboard, squashing her into the pillows. Within moments he'd exposed a breast and was teasing at it with his tongue and teeth, and Natasha knew she didn't want to be anywhere else, no matter what happened tomorrow...or in the future.

His mouth was everywhere, tasting the skin that his hands exposed, her bra was flung across the room, and then he was sliding her lace knickers over her hips and his mouth...

"Fuck, Bo..." she managed a raspy gasp as his fingers parted her, and his tongue flicked over the most erogenous of areas. She couldn't last long, it was all too overwhelming, and within seconds she exploded, but his hands and mouth kept teasing her until she was almost cresting again.

Reaching down, she grabbed his head, pulling him back to join her, tasting herself on his lips. But she couldn't think about that, as the surge between them grew.

"Condom?" she breathed as she slipped her hand under his boxer shorts, wrapping her fingers around him, watching him groan as she moved her fist over him.

"Shit!" He moaned, "haven't got any...didn't think this would happen."

She started to take a deep breath, she was sure there were none in her bedside drawer, or her bag...or bathroom.

"Have you?" He asked moaning into her neck.

When she shook her head, he lifted his, "I'm're on the pill."

Sex without a condom was a hard no for her, as in never, even if she took four other forms of contraception.

Pulling her hand away, she moved physically across the bed from him, wrapping herself in her duvet, "I can't do that."

"You don't trust me?"

She laughed rather sarcastically, "maybe it's fate I don't trust."

He looked distraught, the thought of finally relieving his blue-balls, to itching his scratch had rendered him a tense mess. She felt for him, but her own sanity was more important.

Groaning, he reached for his trousers and snatched at his wallet, then moaned in relief as he retrieved a single foil packet from within.

Natasha feared that her panic had ruined the moment, but Bo, turned to her, opened his arms and waited. It was still up to her, and with a half sob, she rolled across to him, and let him hold her close, both ignoring his raging erection pressing into her, and her own body primed ready to fire.

He held her, kissed the top of her head, stroked her arms, enjoying everything she threw back at him.

Until she finally took the so called bull, by the so called horns, and slid astride his lap, then under his intense scrutiny, she rolled the condom on him, and moved her body over him.

Previously they'd been aggressive, almost violent in their desperation for each other, but this time, there was a calmness, a closeness, an intimacy that Natasha had never felt before, and as she climaxed again, with his driving slowly into her, she'd never felt as loved as she did at that moment.

Bo was in a mental confusion. His body was failing him, slumped against the mattress after the biggest, hardest orgasm of his life, Natasha in his arms, warm, soft...home. He had no complaints, but his mind was revisiting every minute of the time since he'd entered her home. How could things feel so amazing?

He was a little upset about her almost blocking things, he'd hoped she started to trust her, but that felt like a huge snub. He'd get tests, he hadn't been with a woman in months, so there was no chance he had any infections, but he'd get the tests done, just to prove to her. Because he knew that she still held him at arm's length, that he wasn't breaking down a single one of her defences.

She was sighing as she drifted off, almost but not quite a snore. Running his hands over her, he had to work out a way to make her trust him, prove that this was genuine, but he'd already laid his heart on his sleeve. What else was there?

He ran over her ribs, his eyes catching the words inked in to her skin, he'd noticed them before, but she always flinched, covered them up when he tried to see them.

"If the arrow is straight, and the point is slick, it can pierce through dust no matter how thick."

He had no idea what it meant, but he was determined to google it when he got chance, instead he turned into her, and kissing the top of her sleeping head, he closed his eyes too.

Sleep would at least refresh him, because he needed to have his wits about him in the morning. He wasn't letting her throw him away with the trash.  

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