Fragile Lives: A small-town, age-gap, brother’s best friend romance (Little Hope series Book 4)
Fragile Lives: Chapter 18

Last night was…interesting.

The convulsing muscles of his tattooed stomach will get me through many lonely nights in the future, that’s for sure. The moment I imagine him spasming under my touch, my own muscles contract, and I smack the tiled wall of the shower. The physical sting grounds me, bringing me back to reality.

I went too far.

I dove too deep.

I didn’t listen to Ken’s warning and got hooked on Stephan’s powerful presence. And he was so right—there will be no coming out of it. One thing he got wrong, though—there won’t be coming out of it for me, because I’m too deep. I see him. I feel him.

And I’m addicted to him as if he’s the best drug out there. I don’t think Stephan is the one in danger here—I am. At some point, he’ll get tired of me. He will see me as I am—his friend’s little, inexperienced sister. And I don’t mean just in sex, but in life in general—he’s seen so much while I’ve seen so little. That’s not self-pity talking, no. It’s the reality of the situation.

Stephan is a drifter, and he’ll never settle down, nor would I want him to. He’s too large for me and our small town—I understand that, but I can’t make myself stop gravitating toward him. So, I decide fuck it, I’ll ride this wild horse as long as he’ll let me.

Besides that, I wasn’t joking when I said we would end up fucking like rabbits. The chemistry in the air around us was palpable, and from everyone’s warnings, they all knew it. It was a matter of time before it was too much in this small space, and we’d explode. I’d prefer sooner rather than later.

Finishing my shower, I step into the chill air and instantly shiver. Are we running out of gas? Why is it so chilly?

I quickly dry myself, get dressed, and walk out of the bathroom.

And replace no one. The place is small, so it’s hard to lose a person in here, but Stephan is nowhere to be found. I’d be lying if I said my blood didn’t turn to ice when I don’t replace him. I run outside, not bothering to grab a jacket.

I rush to the porch, my fuzzy socks sliding on the slippery surface. I wail like a banshee as I slip, but a strong hand grabs my elbow and steadies me.

“Are you insane? It’s cold out here.” Stephan’s voice chides me as he reaches for me. “And you’re not even wearing boots.”

His arm wraps around my torso from behind and pulls me into him.

“Put your feet on my boots, or you’ll freeze to death.”

I do as I’m told, and he wraps the front of his jacket around me, enveloping my shivering body into his warmth, smelling delicious and cozy. My heart palpitates with the adrenaline of not replaceing him and nearly falling, beating against my ribcage. Right where his arm is placed.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, my breath coming out in white puffs.

“Came to get more wood.”

“Where’s the wood?” I ask as I lean back onto his shoulder.

“On the side of the house.”

“You’re not going to get it?”

“I will.”

Even though his hold on me is gentle, his whole body is taut and rigid. So is his voice.

I turn to look at him. “Are you alright?”

His narrowed eyes are trained ahead of him. “Yes.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Someone is watching us, Leila.”

It’s my turn to go rigid. I start looking around wildly, pushing myself into his frame and looking for assurance and safety, I guess. Because I do feel safe with him. Sheltered and reposeful. Along with the general overdrive my body goes into when he is close, I also feel content and…happy.

“Do you know who it is?” His voice is careful but probing. Like he feels the sudden shift in my mood.

I shake my head in refusal.

“Leila.” He’s more insistent.

“I don’t know who it is.” And I’m not even lying—I don’t know who’s been stalking me in town, if this person found me here. “Did you see someone?”

Stephan’s silent for a few moments before answering, “No. And no footprints either. At least not around the cabin.”

“Then what it is?” I look back at him.

“Just a feeling.”

Suddenly, a twig cracks somewhere in the forest, and Stephan instantly moves me so I’m standing behind him. His whole body is a sheet of steel.

Another twig snaps, and we both turn toward the sound.

A large figure appears from behind the thick pines. First—his antlers. Widespread and magnificent. Then his big head with his big dark nose. Then that whole beautiful body of his.

“Frank!” I cry out and try to move around him, but he pushes me back. “It’s okay, Stephan. It’s Frank.”

“Who’s Frank?”

“That is,” I point at the moose, “Frank.”

“The moose?” He turns to glance at me. His forehead wrinkles in confusion, and he looks positively adorable.

“Yes, Frank the Moose.”

“Hold on a minute.” He finally lets me go. “You know this moose? This particular moose?”

“Yes, everyone knows him. It’s Frank. He lives with Kayla.” I look back to Frank. “I will be back, Frank. Don’t go anywhere,” I call to him.

He snorts loudly, so I rush back inside, put my shoes and jacket on, and run back outside. Stephan stands on the porch, head tilted, watching as Frank watches him. The moose moves toward the cabin, and now only a few feet of deep snow separate us.

The moment I jump from the stairs, I sink into two whole feet of fluffy snow. Obviously, my boots are not equipped to deal with this, and my feet are instantly cold. But it’s not a big deal if I can pet Frank. He’s a special soul and shows up only at the most convenient, important moments. Some people have started calling him ‘the Little Hope angel,’ and I agree with them.

I walk to our guest, arm outstretched, letting him sniff me. When his wet nose touches my palm, he snorts and tilts his big head, letting me scratch his ears.

“How did you replace us here, Frankie?” I coo as the good boy snorts and pushes his head into my hand for more affection.

The footsteps behind me make Frank strain and pull away from me. Now, his accusing eyes are trained on Stephan, who couldn’t resist staying away.

“This is the moose that lives with Kayla? The Frank?” His voice is full of wonder.

“Yep.”

“When everyone talked about Frank, I assumed it was some homeless dude, living in the woods that everyone loved. Not a moose.”

“Yep. That’s what everyone thinks.”

“And no one thinks to mention it to people who don’t know?” A note of irritation clear in his voice.

I turn to face him before I respond. “You weren’t local, so people were wary. But you’re one of us now.” I feel my brows draw together. “To think of it, you became one of us a while ago.”

He swallows roughly. “Since when?”

“I think since Frank spotted you at Kenneth’s house before.”

“What?” His eyes go round.

“Yeah,” I nod, “when I dropped you off at his place, I saw Frank marking your car. He does it to people who belong.”

“Marking my car?” His face looks horrified. “How?”

“You don’t wanna know.” I smile widely and turn back to the moose. “Thank you, Frankie.” I pet his nose and add with a whisper, “I know what you did, so thank you.”

His intelligent eyes blink a few times, and he beats his hoof on the frozen ground before jogging away back into the woods.

I replace Stephan behind me with a look of pure wonder on his face.

I tap him on his chest. “Let’s go, soldier.” His shining eyes move to me. “There goes your lurker. He does that sometimes.”

I feel so much better knowing it was Frank and not the same person from Little Hope. Well, if it’s a real person with malicious intent and not just some stupid prankster leaving notes on my door and sending messages. These days, it’s a likely possibility since a lot of people are too bored to be useful.

We walk back inside, and I take off my jacket and wet boots, heading straight to the fireplace and kneeling in front of the dying fire. Stephan follows me there.

Crouching next to me, he calls my name. “Leila.”

“Yeah,” I say too cheerfully.

“There was a moment there where you thought someone was in the woods besides Frank.”

I keep my eyes on the fire, a plastic smile, hating that he noticed that. I don’t want to talk about my little fuck up of a situation. He brings his finger under my chin and turns my face toward him.

“Look at me, Leila.” His voice is gentle but firm—he’s on a mission.

And I do, unable to resist the warmness of his call. Looking up at him, I replace worry lines marring his handsome face.

“I just want to be prepared, that’s all,” he says gently. “Who did you think was out there?”

I swallow a lump in my throat, worried he’s going to look at me differently if I tell him. “I thought it was someone from Boston. Maybe.”

His jaw clamps shut, and I hear his teeth scraping against each other.

“Your boyfriend?”

I roll my lips, deciding how much I should tell him. I came here hoping to get away from this person. I don’t even know if he’s really who I think he is, but my sixth sense is screaming it might be him. Even though I was told he’s still in prison, I can’t get rid of this feeling. And besides, the ex-Navy man who went through professional training and years of real-life combat felt like we were being watched. Why am I hesitating to tell him that I’ve got a stalker? There is no one better to help me than him.

“No,” I answer with a sigh. “Possibly someone I upset with my work or something.” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That better be fuckin’ true.” His nostrils flare, and anger fills his voice. He grabs my chin with both hands and leans closer to me. “I. Do. Not. Share.”

“Really?” It’s so not the time to drag out all the things I’ve heard, but out of nowhere, I turn into a petty bitch. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

I shouldn’t start this by attacking him, but if it’ll get me out of my little predicament…

The muscle in his jaw ticks, and his eyes turn bright. “Really?” His tongue peeks out to lick his lips. “What did you hear?”

We’re playing again, so I make narrow my eyes, looking up at him through my lashes. “That you love to share. That you like threesomes. Of all kinds.”

He slowly pushes into my space. Inch by inch.

“What else did you hear?”

I let my eyes roam his torso slowly before returning to his face. “That you like a good cock too?”

I don’t know how I braved up enough to ask that question—it’s so very personal—but I’m curious.

“Will it change anything if I did?”

I think before I answer. “No. It wouldn’t.”

“Good.” The corner of his lips quirk up. “But I don’t like a dick in my ass. Nor will I like any dick other than mine in yours.”

“Presumptuous,” I say on an exhale, his face still near mine. “Do you think yours is so good I’ll want to stick with it?”

His smile turns mad. His hand shoots behind my head, and he wraps my hair around his fist, pulling my head back and exposing my neck. I try to swallow, but it’s hard in this position.

“Too bad for you, because that’s the only one you’ll be getting.” He presses his lips to my jugular and nips at the taut skin. My pussy clenches, loving the feeling. Or maybe his words.

“And what if I don’t agree with that,” I breathe out, expecting an outburst from him. Hoping it’ll be directed at me.

He lets out a guttural growl, and a gush of liquid runs down my thighs. I don’t remember ever being so aroused that my body produced enough liquid for a month-long sex marathon for ten people at once.

“Then I’ll fuck you until you change your mind,” he says, and my body liquefies.

He yanks my head back, bringing his lips back to my neck and sucks. Hard. It’s not for my pleasure, it’s for his. The primitive marking of a man.

And I’m loving it.

“Promises,” I croak, and he yanks my hair harder.

Grabbing my chin in his hand and holding my head back by my hair, he kneels beside me. It’s a vulnerable position for me, and I’ve never been in it before—so dominated—but I’m curious to see where it will go.

“Do you think you can take it?” He leans down to me.

“Do you think you can deliver?” My throat is dry. My nostrils full of his scent. My insides too empty.

“We shall see.” His lips graze over mine.

I’m anticipating the kiss too much, and I open my mouth, hoping he’ll meet me there. But he doesn’t. Instead, his lips tease mine with butterfly-like kisses before he retracts. I want to follow, but he’s holding me firmly in place.

“Not so fast,” he breathes, fanning my rapidly sweating temple with his breath.

He squeezes his fist tighter, making my scalp hurt. My lips part, letting out a tiny moan. His mouth lands on my chin, and he begins tracing the line of my jaw with light kisses. He bites my earlobe and blows cold air on it.

A shudder quakes my body.

He traces the line of my throat with his free hand down to my chest and stops between my breasts. I’m wearing an oversized T-shirt—his—with no bra, and I imagine how good his hand would feel if he only moved his hand a bit to the left or to the right. I’ve never been into guys playing with my boobs before. I never felt anything and had to pretend to be aroused just so it wouldn’t be awkward. But with Stephan, it’s different. My whole body is taut and electrified. It’s like if he touches any spot below my neck with his bare hands, I might combust in flames.

In the meantime, his hand comes back up, pulling on the collar of my shirt.

“How do you like to play?”

“Vanilla.” My throat is dry, so my voice comes out rough. “I like to play vanilla.”

His low chuckle is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “I like vanilla.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out as a moan as his hand moves back down and dips under my shirt. He moves back up and lands on my ribs. He spreads his large palm over the front of me, his thumb grazing over the bottom of my left boob. Just move it a little higher, damn it.

I squirm, reminding him to move, and he chuckles again. This sound…He should do it more often.

“Impatient, I see.”

He brings his mouth close to mine, a breath away…But not touching.

“I can fuck you the way no one else ever will.” His voice is coarse. Restrained. Patient.

“I don—”

He presses his lips to mine and quickly pulls back before I can even understand what’s happening.

“Sh-sh-sh.” Another quick peck. “You had your chance to talk. Now you’ll be quiet. I’m talking.”

I keep my mouth shut, excited at the prospect. A few hours ago, this powerful, dominant man let me have all the control, and it felt so good. Now I want to experience being on the receiving end of his dominance.

“Nod if you agree.”

I go to nod, but he yanks my hair again, sending a shot of pain through my scalp.

…and I can feel how wet I get in an instant.

My mouth falls open in surprise, and his chuckle into my ear causes another shudder. Fuck it, he didn’t even do anything, and I’m already so fired up.

He kneels in front of me, still holding my hair in his fist. He opens his hand and places his palm on the back of my head. My hair falls down, cascading over my shoulders.

“You are so beautiful, Lei. You don’t even know it.”

“It’s the hair.” I glance to my right, seeing the long, heavy waves resting on my shoulder. I’ve been told my hair is pretty.

“No.” He shakes his head, suddenly grabbing my face in his hands. “I mean, yes, your hair is gorgeous. But it’s more.” His eyes dart between mine. “It’s you. You’re just….” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I would give everything to keep you, but I got nothing left to give.”

“Don’t say that…” I whisper. This moment of sexual tension quickly turns into something else.

His lips cover mine in a gentle kiss. Very slow and gentle. I wrap my hands around his wrists, feeling his pulse under my fingertips.

He pulls away and touches his forehead to mine.

“I went too far with you and promised too much I can’t deliver.”

I know he’s not talking about sex, because that’s something he sure can deliver.

“But you’re addictive. Better than any drug I’ve ever tried.” He inhales deeply and closes his eyes. “But I can’t stay away from you. Not when we’re in close quarters like this. How can I stay away from you? Tell me how.”

“Don’t,” I whisper, because him staying away is the last thing I want.

“I can’t, Lei. I can’t be with you.” His voice is full of agonizing torture.

“Just with me? Because of Alex?”

“God, no. I’m an asshole for breaking a pact with him, but I’ll gladly take my punishment for that.” He chuckles and then adds seriously, “I can’t be with anyone, Leila. I’m not built for that. And frankly, dealing with relationships might be my last fuckin’ straw.”

I think for a moment, trying to figure out if there’s a way out of this for the both of us.

“What if we make a pact?”

“A pact?” he asks, rubbing his nose against mine.

“Yes.” I swallow. “We can pretend that nothing else exists while we’re here. Just you and me. We can give into everything we’re feeling.”

“And then?” he breathes out.

“And then,” I lick my lips, desperately wanting to taste him again, “we go our separate ways when we’re back to real life.”

“No strings?” His nostrils flare, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s mad or he’s smelling me. He does that quite a lot, actually.

“No strings,” I confirm. “What do you think?”

Please, say yes.

“We can do that,” he whispers and licks his lips.

“Yeah” is all I manage to say—his masculine scent enveloping me. He doesn’t wear cologne or special soap. It’s all him: pure and intoxicating. Stephan. I wonder if Archie smells differently—I can always feel the shift when he puts that mask back on.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh, but I have already lost track of our conversation.

“Okay,” I parrot.

“Alright,” he replies with clear amusement.

“Yeah.” I’m not even slightly embarrassed by my current lack of brain power.

He laughs, fists my hair once again, and smashes his lips to mine.

Fucking finally!

His tongue checked all gentleness at the door and now invades my mouth like a warrior on enemy land. His free hand grabs my thigh and pulls me toward him. His fingers begin kneading my flesh, and my hips buck. He intensifies the kiss, angling my head so his tongue can dive deeper. I’ve never been a fan of deep kisses like this. Never found them even remotely arousing. But with Stephan, I seem to replace something new about myself every single time he touches me.

My hands go to the seam of his shirt and try to pull it up. He helps me, but unfortunately, he has to stop the kiss to pull it off of him.

Fortunately, I can admire him as he does.

His eyes are on fire with passion, dark and focused. His strong body moves in sleek, precise movements. With every move, the tattoos on his body move along with it, as if every single one of them is alive. His lips are swollen, and it’s my doing. I feel unexpected pride rising in my chest.

In a moment, he’s in front of me, wearing only gray sweats, tattoos, and piercings—the way I like him the most. He looks around and leans to grab the blanket from the couch. Throwing it in front of the fire, he grabs me by my waist and pulls me onto him. I wrap my legs around him, and he crawls to me, kneeling on the blanket as he lowers me on my back.

“You’re awfully overdressed.” His wicked smile promises insane orgasms—something I think I’m already addicted to.

I quickly remedy that by pulling my T-shirt off. Lying in front of him in only my slutty black panties, I bring my hands under my head. “Not anymore. Whatcha gonna do about that?” I say playfully.

The right corner of his lips lift in an evil smile as he lowers himself on top of me and rests on his elbows. So close—I can feel his body heat—yet so far away. I want to touch him.

But in the next moment, he’s on me. Trying not to crush me—even though I wouldn’t mind his whole weight on top of mine, just for a moment, just to feel it—he begins peppering my face with kisses.

Alternating between licks, kisses, and bites, he moves on to my neck. My hands roam his back, feeling his bulging muscles under my palms. They move as I glide my hand over his sweaty skin. And I love the feel of him under my fingertips. I love the power he’s withholding. I savor it.

And I want it.

I want him to let go of control and show me the real him.

“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper into his ear.

His kisses skip a beat.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

His breathing quickens.

“I want you to fuck me so hard every time I fuck someone else, I’ll compare them to you.”

He lets out a guttural growl and bites my neck. That one will bruise, for sure. And I’ll gladly wear his mark on my skin as long as it will stay.

I want to mark him too. I want everyone to know that I changed something deep inside of him, just like he did in me. So I sink my teeth into his shoulder. Deep. Too deep. I may have broken his skin. But he loves it. He stops biting me for a moment, letting out a loud exhale. He brings his face to the crook of my neck and begins breathing me in. His arms are tight around me.

I squeeze his torso with my thighs and bite him again. A little gentler this time.

His breathing is erratic. His heartbeat crazy—I can feel it in his chest, threatening to knock his ribs out. His arms are a little too tight around me.

But that’s what I want—the real him.

“Don’t you,” he growls into my ear, “talk about others,” he bites my neck again, “while you’re with me.”

“But I—”

“Fuckin’ don’t,” he hisses as he pulls himself away from me.

Oh no.

But he grabs my panties and rips them apart.

Oh yes.

He grabs my thighs and replaces my eyes. “Never.”

I can’t utter a word, so I just nod, excited for what he’ll do next. He’s at his most primitive state, judging by his face and jerky movements. His own brain has checked out too.

He lowers his face to my stomach and dips his tongue into my belly button.

My breath hitches. It’s not like no one has ever licked it before, but my body is so fired up that I nearly come from just that. He places one of his hands between my breasts and presses me down while he licks my belly button once more.

After, he wraps his other arm around my thigh and secures me in place with his hand. I look down and replace his face between my legs. His eyes are half hooded and crazed, his hair disheveled, and his shoulders rise with every breath he takes. It’s a sight to behold.

He slowly lowers his face and gives a long lick from the back to the very front, and my body spasms as I try to clamp my thighs shut. He doesn’t let me, though. He presses his hand to my belly, keeping me flat as he holds my thighs with his hand. He starts licking again, putting pressure in all the right places. My clit is throbbing. My belly spasming. My back arching.

But he keeps the pressure firm, holding me in place. His tongue presses harder onto my clit.

I moan and arch my back despite his hand pushing me down.

He lets go of my stomach and slides his finger inside my pussy. It’s drenched. I look down and replace him watching me as he moves his tongue up and down. His cheeks are wet with evidence of my desire, and red from restraining his own.

He adds another finger and starts pumping. I moan again.

He moves his mouth back to my clit and starts sucking.

My hands act on their own and grab his hair.

He begins alternating sucking on my clit with flicking his tongue over it while his fingers keep pumping me, hitting that sweet spot.

“Stephan,” I moan his name, begging him to put me out of my misery and let me come.

He sucks harder and pumps deeper.

And I come all over his face. My body quaking. My thighs squeezing his face while he helps me ride my high.

I’m not all the way down when he brings his body back up, spreads my legs wide, and smacks himself into me in one fast go, holding my legs at the shins.

My body arches again.

And he starts fucking me mercilessly.

It’s the real deal. Not gentle. Not caring. But primal and raw.

With every move of his body, mine moves on the floor, and very soon, we end up off the blanket. And I don’t care. My back can be bruised and scratched and totally ruined—I don’t care as long as he keeps fucking me like this.

He lowers his body to mine and kisses me. It’s messy, sloppy, and perfect.

And I come again. Out of nowhere. When he hits something inside me, I feel the pressure build and release so fast I don’t have time to prepare. I’ve never been a squirter, but I guess no one before him could replace the right button.

His nostrils flare, and he wraps his arms around me. Lifting the lower part of my body, he angles it the way it suits him while proceeding to impale me with his enormous dick. I’ve always known that he wouldn’t be small—that swagger and big dick energy can’t lie—but he exceeded all expectations.

I’m lost at this point. My body is overstimulated. I can’t think anymore. I’ve entered that state of bliss where my brain can’t think, only acts. So I follow his lead, digging my nails into his corded forearms. Scratching his skin. Invoking pain.

His eyes are focused on me, the veins all over his body strained. Especially the one on his neck, where I can see his crazy heartbeat.

“I need you to come for me again.” His voice is barely human at this point.

“I can’t.” It comes out as a whine, and I want to crawl away from this overwhelming sensation and sleep for a week.

“Of course you can.”

He puts his finger on my swollen, sensitive clit and presses down as he speeds up his pumping.

And I come again.

My whole body is convulsing, and he joins me a moment later. He tilts his head back and lets out a gravelly growl, making my heart stop beating. It’s still the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The muscles all over his body are strained. The veins popping. He’s sleek with sweat and my arousal.

It’s so messy.

It’s so perfect.

This is how real sex should be—two animals lost in each other.

He pumps into me two more times and slowly lowers his body on mine.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him as tight as I can.

He mumbles something into my neck.

“What?” I ask.

He pulls away a little, just enough so I can hear him. “I thought my soul left my body.”

I chuckle quietly. “Is it back?”

He pulls his head away and looks me in the eyes. “I’m not sure yet.”