Jagged

He came back, mouth to mine, kissing me, hungry. No, greedy. Devouring. Amazing. And I kissed him back the same way, my hands moving on him, roaming, pressing, nails scratching, just as greedy as our mouths.

Ham broke the kiss to shift down, lifting one of my breasts. His lips closed around my nipple and he pulled hard.

My back arched. My leg forced its way out from under his and curled around his thigh as I drove my hands into his hair.

He came back to my mouth, drinking, consuming, his thumb now at my nipple, pressing deep and circling, rubbing, pulling. I moaned into his mouth, unwrapped my leg from his thigh, planted my foot in his bed, and rolled him.

Then I took from him. Everything. My mouth, tongue, and teeth at his neck, his chest, his nipples, down, down, he opened his legs, cocking his knees, and I saw his cock, hard and thick, resting on his stomach.

And I wanted that. Badly.

So I ran my tongue up the underside from base to tip.

He grunted, one hand plunging in my hair, fisting. I wrapped his cock in my hand, shifted, moved my hand away, and took him deep.

“Jesus,” he growled, his hips thrusting up, his other hand coming to my face, palm to my cheek, thumb out and resting along my lower lip so he could feel it two ways as I worked his cock.

I was giving it to him, God, finally giving it to him and loving it.

Head was not my favorite thing to give. I’d do it, I liked it all right, but I’d pick other things to do above that.

With Ham, I couldn’t get enough. I never could. I loved his reaction. I loved how I could make him lose control. I loved the taste of him. The feel of him in my mouth.

I loved everything about it.

As it would turn out, I loved it too much.

So much, I had to shove a hand between my legs and touch myself because just taking him there was making me hot. So hot, I was close to exploding.

But I had him so I should have him.

And I was going to take him.

I slid him out of my mouth, dropped to a hip, tugged off my panties, threw them to the side, and crawled over him.

“Zara—” he called, his deep voice guttural.

I didn’t reply.

I wrapped my hand around his cock again, guided him to me, and, with a rough, desperate downward plunge, I impaled myself on him.

His groan shook the room, his hips thrust up, and his hands went to my hips. My hands went to me, one finger to my clit, one hand to my breast, fingers closing around my nipple as, head back, mindless, I rode him and I did it hard.

“Babe—” he called again but I didn’t respond because I was there.

Crying out, moving with abandon, I came, the fire of it exploding between my legs and shooting through me, splitting me open, ripping me wide, and I loved every second.

Vaguely, I felt Ham’s arms come around me and I was on my back, Ham driving rough and deep. With one of his arms under me, hand curled around the back of my neck to hold me stationary, I took his beautifully brutal thrusts as I came down and he took himself there.

I knew when he made it because his fingers at my neck drove into my hair, fisted, holding my head steady and he slammed his mouth down on mine as he thrust his cock to the root and groaned down my throat.

I held him tight, my arms around him, my legs bent, feet in the bed, thighs pressed to his hips, and I traced his lower lip with my tongue, thinking Nina was right.

Rolling the dice was a good thing to do.

I barely finished this thought when Ham unexpectedly pulled out and rolled off, settling on his back.

I blinked into the dark in surprised confusion.

Something about this was not right. Ham was affectionate, especially in bed. He never pulled out until he had no choice. He caressed, cuddled, nuzzled, nipped, licked, kissed, whispered.

He’d never pulled out and rolled away.

I shifted to my side, preparing to lift up on a forearm and reach out to him but I froze solid when he spoke.

“Got a taste for your fuck toy, babe, at least let me roll on a goddamned condom before you use me to find it.”

Oh shit, part one. We didn’t use protection.

This wasn’t exactly bad. I was on The Pill but Ham always used protection.

And oh shit, part everything. He thought I’d used him as a fuck toy?

“Ham?” I called, beginning to reach out but he rolled off the bed and started through the shadows to the bathroom.

He did this speaking.

“That was fuckin’ awesome. Mood strikes you, you know where I am.” He stopped at the bathroom door and turned to me. “But I sleep alone, baby, and we’re done tonight so do me a favor and find your bed.”

After delivering that, the bathroom door closed behind him.

Evidence was suggesting that maybe I shouldn’t have rolled the dice.

My body was hot everywhere and not in good ways. I was scared, worried, and I had no clue what to do. I had no clue why Ham reacted like that.

I just knew, when he got out of the bathroom, he didn’t want me in his bed.

So I jumped out of it, snatched up my panties, found my nightgown, ran naked to my own room, and closed the door.

* * *

For the next two days I avoided Ham as best I could, seeing as we lived and worked together.

During the days, this was easy. I got the hell out of the condo and stayed out until I went to work.

At work, Ham helped. He seemed just as happy to avoid me as I did him and, luckily, Jake was working so Ham stayed distant any time I approached the bar and I used Jake.

Driving to The Dog myself and Ham being the manager and not picking up any blondes, he stayed later. When he was my ride, I usually hung out while he dealt with shit. Now, I used it as a way to get home and behind my bedroom door before he got home.

It was the second night, lying in bed, hearing him come home and close the door to his room, that I understood what had happened with Ham.

Greg and I, in the beginning, had a good sex life. It wasn’t as good as Ham but then, unfortunately for Greg and bitchily for me, nothing about Greg was.

After we were married, when I was losing myself and the distance was forming between us, the sex went bad. We had it but we had it in a way where we had it only, it seemed, because we were supposed to.

Greg got off entirely, my guess, due to biology.

I never did.

So with that and with the fact I hadn’t had a man in some time, I lost myself in what I was doing, what was happening, and the fact it was Ham.

And he would know I lost myself.

I’d never done that with him. I could lose myself in sex with him but it was always with him. I never rode him like that. Usually, when I was on top, I was bent to him, touching him, kissing him, nuzzling him. Or he was sitting up, doing all that to me.

The other night, I didn’t use him to get off. I knew who I was riding.

But I could see how he didn’t think the same.

I could also see how that could piss him off.

I’d walked to his room in the dead of night, scared him, came onto him, and rode him to climax without