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You let yourself into the hotel room where you arranged to meet him. He looks up from the bed, surrounded by crumpled sheets, scattered paper, several maps, three burner phones, a bike lock key, and a silver case. He smiles to see you walk in and you smile back. You were not prepared for how hot he is. You met six months ago in an online support group for people who lost loved ones due to denied insurance claims. Everyone there was grieving but no one else seemed prepared to do something about it.
‘Focus!’ you admonish yourself, closing the door and walking across the room.
“Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. His handshake is deliciously firm because of course it is.
“Hi,” you say back, swallowing harder than you meant to.
He’s like you imagined, but then again, not at all. You are astonished by his thick lashes, strong nose, and sexy smile. His hair is rumpled from too many late nights. He is wearing a black T-shirt that hints at the lean muscles beneath. Looking at him sends a spark through your body. You feel more alive than you have in years. You don’t drop his gaze. His eyes penetrate you. It feels like he can see your soul, and his smile says he likes what he found.
It's been an impossibly hard year since you lost the one you love. Your saving grace this past six months has been him and your plan, your goal, the idea that your loss could lead to something meaningful. You feel a little high on the knowledge that you are so close to the end and the way he is looking at you makes your head spin.
You take a deep breath and wordlessly hand him a scrap of paper with the address of the hotel your target is staying at.
“You got it!” His eyes are fiery with intensity as they scan the page.
“Of course I got it,” you say, playfully offended. “Ye of little faith.”
Laughing, he returns to the bed, pulling maps towards him and uncapping a red marker. You join him, trying to ignore the shiver that flows through you when your knees touch. You plot several paths on the map, escape routes, adrenaline building.
He sleeps a few hours. That’s good. He’ll need to be focused. You try on the other bed but can’t quite fall asleep. The eagerness, the fear, it’s all too much to let sleep take you. He wakes up early and joins you at the window where you look out over New York. You sit in companionable silence together. Eventually, you riffle through your bag and pull out your gift to him.
He takes the bullets curiously, then he sees the words carved on them and a grim smile crosses his face.
“Brilliant,” he says, his gaze burning.
“Let’s show these fuckers,” you say, burning back.
He showers and dresses. Yawning, he emerges from the bathroom.
“Coffee?” you ask.
“I’ll get some on the way,” he says, packing his backpack and pulling his hood up.
“On the way,” you laugh softly. So casual for what he’s about to do.
He nods at you firmly and moves towards the door. He hesitates, hand on the knob. He turns and you meet him halfway. The embrace is quick and so tight it hurts a little.
“I’ll meet you at the safe house?” he asks as he drops his arms.
You nod. “Come back.”
“I will,” he says.
Another gorgeous lopsided smile and he leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. Heart thudding in your chest. You wait. You wait two hours before making your way to the subway, and then the Metro North. You don’t have a smartphone, just a burner. No computer to trace you by so you can’t refresh Twitter every five minutes the way you are longing to. A bus ride later and you are hiking up the hills to the remote house you inherited when your loved one died. You stocked it with everything you need to lay low last week. Then you wait some more, pacing a rut in the wood floor with anticipation.
Finally, a key clicks in the lock and you throw yourself at the door, wrenching it open. There he is, in one piece and beaming at you.
“Good news,” he says.
You pull him into the house, shutting the door behind him. Then you are laughing and he is laughing and he picks you up and swings you around. You kiss him quickly before you can talk yourself out of it. You pull back and he isn’t laughing anymore, instead looking at you with such intensity you shiver. He kisses you again, deeply this time. Your hands press against his chest curling into his sweater, pulling him closer. He responds to your encouragement. Setting you gently on the floor, he wraps one hand around your waist and slides the other to the nape of your neck, twining his fingers through your hair. Feeling bold, you slide your tongue between his lips and feel a spark of electricity pass between you. You pull away again, breathing heavily.
“Intense,” you say. He nods. “It must be the high of the revolution.”
“The revolution, you, me,” he replies. “Intense.”
“Come on.”
You lead him to the small bedroom and gently push him onto the bed. You stretch one leg over him and settled yourself on top, ass pressed against where you can feel him getting hard. He reaches up, sliding a hand over your stomach, reaching for your breasts that are threatening to spill out of your shirt, you’re breathing so hard. You push his arms back down, pinning them to the bed with your knees, and luxuriously pull the shirt over your head. You enjoy his shudder and the feeling of him hardening with desire. His eyes rove over your skin, taking in every detail. Thank God you thought to wear a good bra and underwear today.
“Let me touch you, I’ve never wanted to touch anything so badly before,” he says.
You feel suddenly vulnerable, exposed beneath his gaze. It is thrilling. You lean down, kissing him. It’s like something deep rears up inside of you. You’ve never felt desire like this, never felt passion this acutely. Electricity runs from the tops of your toes, through your legs, leaves your arms tingly and a fire in your belly. You smile against his lips, pressing your body against his. You arch your back, releasing his arms. They are all over you in an instant. Touching your skin desperately, feeling the bones of your spine and squeezing your ass.
You tug his sweater over his head, your lips parting only for the moment to pull it off. You begin exploring the unfamiliar terrain of his chest, fingers bumping down over every rib, tracing his pecs and strong biceps, his forearms. Your hands begin an unbearably slow journey down his torso towards the buckle of his pants. You’re teasing him, building the tension. His lips still pressed against yours. Hungry. Near his bellybutton your fingers find a scar you knew would be there, from the accident that took his loved one.
“You did a good thing today,” you say fiercely.
“We did a good thing,” he says, kissing you again.
You move down his torso, kissing and licking your way along his skin. He’s salty from exertion. You’ve never been one for sweat or musk but knowing why he was running is making you wet. You gently bite the thin, sensitive skin just below his bellybutton as you unbuckle his belt. Quickly you slid his jeans and briefs down off his hips. He is fucking hung.
“Fuck,” is all you can come up with as you take in the sight of him, the weight in your hand.
His breath comes faster as you begin to work your hand up and down his shaft. He archs his back slightly, hissing with pleasure and sits up to look at you as you kneel between his legs.
“You don’t have to,” he says, voice thick with desire.
“You took care of us all today,” you say. “Let me take care of you.”
You lick the tip of his cock while he moans. The bittersweet pre-cum coats your tongue. You begin slowly and then quicker. You feel the cleft and slowly work further and further down, making circle after circle. He shivers at your touch, goose bumps appearing and disappearing on his muscled thighs on either side of your head. Your tongue works its way along the shaft. You trace over every inch of his cock. Your fingers alternately clutch his dick and scratch along his inner thighs, his chest, grabbing and then releasing a wrist.
When he is panting with desire, you slowly but firmly slid your lips around his cock, now wet with your saliva. He is positively moaning now, clearly holding back from thrusting into your mouth. You slide him in and out of your mouth slowly, as though you have all the time in the world. Beneath your wet, glistening lips your hand grasps him firmly, stroking the inches you can’t fit in your throat. You chance a glance up and see him looking down at you with a wide-eyed expression of pleasure. You love every instant of it, every moment of the power in giving him this. His breath is quicker now and you know he is close to the end. You move faster, helping him build to dizzying heights of pleasure. You love the feeling of his hard cock, slick and wet from your mouth.
Your eyes lock and comes. His back arches as he groans and curls his toes. You lick up every drop. He relaxes back onto the bed, breathing as though he’d just run hard. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and laugh gently to yourself. It is always funny how the most intimidating of men can be reduced to speechless stillness by the power of your mouth. You curl up next to him. Not close enough to touch but enjoying watching him lay there, eyes closed, taking it all in.
Eventually he catches his breath and sits up, blushing slightly, turning to look at you. You push yourself up on one hand, knowing that the curve of your hip is delicious at this angle.
“You needed that,” you say softly.
“It feels like a weight off my chest,” he confides.
“Anything I can do for the cause.”
He laughs. Suddenly serious he extends a hand towards you, stopping an inch before touching skin. He makes that devastating eye contact again.
“May I?”
You bite your swollen lip and nod. He gently placed his fingers on the deepest curve of your waist. He begins to make figure eights, small at first and then getting longer and longer, reaching the tops of your jeans and the lacy band of your bra. You suck the air in sharply between your teeth and hold it in, releasing it after a pause ripe with desire. Slowly, you reached a hand back and unhook your bra from behind. Coyly, you turn your head to the side. You reach an arm across your chest, sliding the strap off your shoulder. Keeping your elbows close and the cups in place, you slipped the other strap off. You slide a hand down your neck, pulling the cups off of your breasts. He takes in the curve and bounce of them and licks his lips. Your nipples harden with arousal. He reaches out and cups a big hand firmly around your breast. Gently he presses you onto your back, squeezing and reddening your nipples between his fingers.
Your lips meet again. You love the way the pressure of his mouth feels against your own. He bites your lower lip and you arch to press your breasts into him. Your nipples soften as the heat of his body flows into you and then harden again as he slid a hand down your back. He pulls you closer and digging the fleshy pads of his strong fingers into your ass. You groan against his lips, pressing your body against his, feeling the ache for him to fill you grow. For once your mind is clear. After so much time grieving and planning and worrying, it is finally done. There is no more planning. There is just your body, separated from his by only a thin layer of leggings, and the desire that starts somewhere in your toes and sweeps out of your mouth in a gasp of hunger.
You shift, settling your body under him, lips pressed against his, your hands pulling your leggings and underwear over your thighs, kicking them off the bed. He settles in against you, one arm behind your back pulling you close, the other gently pins your hands above your head. He thrusts his hips and you feel him hard against your thigh. You break the kiss, leaning your head back with a gasp. He takes this opportunity to suck on one nipple and then the other, you sigh.
Your eyes met again.
“I want you,” you said, “I want you now.”
You reached down and grasp his hard cock. He feels between your legs. You are wet, so wet your inner thighs are sticky. Lips against each other, his tongue slipping into your mouth, you gently lead his cock into your warm, wet pussy. You gasp as his tip notches inside you. He is fucking big.
“I’ll go slow,” he says, free hand stroking your thigh.
“Fuck me,” you whisper. “I want to feel you stretch me.”
The fire in his eyes again. He slams into you and you scream with pleasure as you take it. He settles his hips into yours, filling you completely. Your eyes had slammed shut and you pry them open. His eyes search your face, expression a mix of concern and desire so deep you feel your heart skip a beat. You nod and roll your hips. He slowly draws his hips away from yours so just the tip remains within you. Then he quickly plunges back inside you, making you moan. You wrap your hands around his forearms, digging your nails in. This seems to egg him on. He begins to move faster within you, cock wet with your desire. You unravel one of your arms and wrap it around the back of his neck, fingers scraping before finding a grip on his hair. You lock eyes again and he begins to move even faster. Your other arm trails down. You enjoy the feeling of his ass flexing as he pushes into you.
You are panting now. You feel pressure building in your clit as his every thrust gently rubs against it. You feel your toes begin to curl against the sheets. You feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, warm and quivering. He thrusts more firmly within you. You bend your knees, allowing him to slip impossibly deeper inside you. You cry out a primal sound you hadn’t known you were capable of making. Pleasure radiated out your every pore.
One of his hands moves between you. He finds your clit immediately and effortlessly. He rubs small circles, just the way you like. You cum hard, screaming your release. You clench, making his cock feel somehow bigger. You cum again and he does too, groaning against you as he thrusts again and again. Your back arches as you press your chest into the air and let your head fall back, toes curled as tight as they can. Pleasure seemed to shoot out of you. You feel your release wet your thighs and the sheets beneath you. You fall back against the bed, panting hard, breath shaky. He collapses onto you, still inside of you. Your chests rise and fall together, too exhausted to move. Gently, gently he rolls off of you. You can’t help but whine when he pulls out.
You lay panting side by side for quite some time. Slowly you put a hand between your legs and feel the wetness there. You giggle.
“I can’t believe I squirted.”
He begins to laugh with you. Your laughs blend together, at the insanity of the pleasure you experienced and the relief of the plan going off miraculously well. You’ve done what you were meant to do. For the people you lost. The first shots fired in the revolution.
You look over at him and he moves toward you, sliding a hand through the hair at the back of your neck to pull you into a deep kiss. You break apart and you look into his eyes.
“Who’s next?”