Coffee 9

Walking down the street in New York City is a little bit of a philosophical puzzle. There's so much to see, but if you actually look, then it means you're not watching after yourself enough, and that is dangerous. Citrine's main way of staying as safe as she could was to wear black, and keep her hand in her pocket with her keys. She'd always be sure to have four keys and a solid key chain. She'd keep the chain in her fist and each key would be protruding between the spaces of her fingers, ready to hit someone with them at a moment's notice. She wasn't looking for a fight, she was looking to avoid a fight. A good offense is the best defense in this case, she decided.

It was a beautiful day, rain last night had left the air smelling fresh and she tried to choose quiet streets to walk, making no eye contact, looking straight ahead. It made her tired to have to do this, but she figured it's better to be tired than in the emergency room. With a deep sigh that she tries to make grim and purposeful rather than wistful and sad, she focused on how the sun felt warming up her hair. She loved the scent of warm hair and that made her smile before she remembered to keep a straight, stern face.

Sitting outside on a beautiful day and having a cup of coffee in the sun was a small step to take to beat back the cold. She rifled through her huge bag for the books she'd picked to read. There was a new philosophy book, she'd bought it on impulse on one of her several-hour relaxation tours of a book store. She always felt comfortable in the presence of books, libraries and book stores just seemed like friends to her. She smiled at how nerdy that sounded even inside her own head and passed over the philosophy book, thinking she'd already racked up enough nerd points for the day.

There was an examination of current politics by an author she loved, but her brain just didn't seem up to it. The thought of it made her tired. Her hand snuck guiltily to a romance wedged under the others. She had read it so often and it was so dog eared and beat up she could have recited most of the book by heart if she'd tried. Shrugging with the abandon of giving in to brain candy, she orders some coffee with as much sugar and chocolate as possible and settles into the book as she would a hot bubble bath. Comfort.

She becomes immersed in her book and little smiles appear on her face between sips of coffee. She doesn't even notice when someone sits down opposite her at the table until she hears him clear his throat. She looks up, startled, to see a man sitting there with a smile as sunny as the day. She's not sure what to say, so she looks up from her book and raises a brow.

He says "I should warn you I'm about to break your heart. Would you mind?"

Both brows shoot up and now she really doesn't know what to say.

He takes a sip from his own cup of coffee, which appears to be black, compared to her concoction of sugar and whipped cream. "That's the only warning you're going to get."

She smiles and nods gravely. "Noted." She looks wary.

He reaches out his hand across the table and says "My name is Lee." When she hesitates he says "Oh, come on now. It's just a handshake. Let's be civilized."

Her hand reaches across the table to grasp his and he holds on when she tries to draw it back. He's doesn't shake her hand at all, he wraps it in his own, lowers both hands to the table and says "You're far too trusting. You're also adorable when you're confused and I'm afraid I'm going to have to confuse you a lot to get just that expression. I want them all."

Her head shakes slightly, partly trying to clear her thoughts that seem to be sluggish right now, partly to express confusion.

His eyes meet hers. "All your expressions."

She has very little to say but "Oh."

Lee says "Your fingers are cold."

She nods "They always are."

He smiles again and comes to sit beside her. He draws her hand to his mouth and cups her fingers in his hands, blowing warm air over her fingertips, watching her face and saying "That's good. Cold hands, warm heart."

She nods solemnly and then says "But your hands are warm. What does that mean about you?"

Lee says "It means I'm cold and calculating. No, wait, damn. It means I'll always be able to warm you up."

Citrine tries to pull her hand back jokingly but he holds fast and Lee says "Not yet. I'm afraid you might faint from hypothermia. Are you about to faint?"

She laughs and says "No, not hardly."

Lee nods sagely and says "Okay, I'll have to get to work on that. The fainting."

Her mouth opens and then closes. She's caught between exasperation and being hypnotized and some part of her is afraid to struggle, because she might actually break free.

He draws both of her hands between his and blows on them gently. The warmth on her fingertips feels so good that her eyes close in pleasure, an unguarded moment. Her breath pushes faster between her lips and her nostrils flare. Her eyes open and there's so much ache in her expression that she doesn't think she could meet her own eyes, she expects him to look away.

He quirks a sideways smile and says "There she is." He kisses the pads on the tips of a few of her fingers and says "You know why I'm going to break your heart?"

Completely vulnerable to this man, she can only shake her head and brace herself for the answer.

Lee says softly "Because I need to put it back together with parts of me in it." He stands up out of his chair and draws her up to him. He's taller than she is, stronger than she is, wider than she is, warmer than she is, and she doesn't really want to do anything but be drawn. His smile is warm and welcoming and then deepens into a darker, possessive expression. As she gets closer to him he passes from sunlight to shadow, and that's even more attractive to her.

Her eyes close and he's kissing her like she belongs to him. She's sure they aren't even attracting attention because he's made it so casual and taken for granted that she belongs to him. To the outside world it probably appears that he's known her forever. Inside, she feels anything but casual. Her pulse is pounding in her throat and his hand comes up to casually fix her collar, and then spread possessively over the pulse there and massage lightly with his warm fingertips. His mouth molds hers to his and then his mouth drops to her ear and he says "Don't talk. Walk with me."

They walk hand in hand, not speaking, and she's marveling at the difference between walking with cold keys between her fingers and Lee's warm hand in hers. He walks her through the lobby of a bed and breakfast and registers them as "Mr. and Mrs." and treats her as if she belongs with him, so everyone else does also. There's no reason for her to feel uncomfortable, so she doesn't. Small bits of panic light up in the back of her head, but when does that not happen? He hasn't taken her to his place where he could have a dungeon. He hasn't asked to go to her place, where she could feel exposed to forced entry. He just took her where she wanted to go.

In the elevator he leans her back against the wall and lowers his head to kiss her, saying softly "Breathe. You're going to have to keep breathing if this is going to be any fun at all."

She exits the elevator held even more closely to his side and with a conscious attempt to keep breathing through the smile on her face.

Opening the door to a lovely room he ushers her inside with a gallant gesture, she steps over the threshold and he follows her in, closing the door firmly behind him and walking behind her, catching up to her and putting his arms around her. He pulls her back against his chest and brings his hand up along her waist, over one breast and then splaying his hand across her neck, resting her head on his shoulder. She's trembling now so he says "Lean on me."

Leaning back on him opens up her body. Pressing her head to his shoulder makes her breasts arch and with each deep breath and tremble he smooths his hands over her skin, warming her and starting new trembles in different places. He unbuttons her blouse with careful slow fingers and spreads his hands over her breasts, teasing her nipples up into hard buds pressed against his palms.

Lee looks down in fascination at this creature in his arms and whispers to her, tells her how beautiful she is to him. Little tremors build in her hips and he presses her hips back against his in slow circles. Her body catches the rhythm and she moves along with him until her brows draw together and her breath chokes once.

He tells her to keep her eyes closed and smooths his hand once over her brow to even it out. "Easy. Easy. This is going to be so easy, honey. Let me make this easy for you. All you have to do is want me. Do you want me?"

One deep breath and her expression clears and she nods in assent. She wants him very much.

She can hear a smile in his voice as he says "Good. Because I doubt I would accept any answer other than that right now. It really was a trick question."

His hands roam over her body and take off her clothes, letting his hands slide along the newly exposed skin. He lifts her in his arms and holds her close, kissing her with teasing licks of his tongue until her arms wrap around his neck and she's straining her mouth into his, biting at his lips.

He draws back his mouth and puts her in the bed under the covers. He tells her to keep her eyes closed and focus on breathing. He steps over to the thermostat and raises the temperature in the room to take the chill from her skin. Stripping every bit of clothing off himself, he slides into the bed next to her and draws her body to his to warm her, warm the sheets, warm the blankets, she's already cold again and he sets about warming her up with his voice, with his body, with his hands.

He turns her gently onto her stomach and covers her body with his own until the chill fades from her skin and she's warm again, holding her hands at her sides with his own and kissing at her neck, whispering that her hair smells like sunlight. She smiles and relaxes even more, drinking him in.

He starts to pull the covers back from them as the room and her body warms, and he massages her exposed skin with warm hands, starting at her shoulders until her muscles have completely relaxed, his broad palms loosening her back muscles and splaying across her waist, sliding down to her thighs and parting her legs slightly to massage the muscles of her legs, avoiding ticklish places like the backs of her knees, working his way down to her feet. He rubs her feet for a little while until he hears soft moans escaping her and then draws one of her toes into his mouth and sucks on it gently, grazing it with his teeth.

When her toes start to curl he surges up to her hips and turns her over onto her back suddenly, parting her legs and nestling his head between her thighs to nip gently there with his teeth, side to side, his hair brushing along the inside of her thighs, teasing her until her hands come to settle on his head and her hips buck against him.

Bringing his hands around the insides of her thighs and underneath, he cups her body in his hands and draws her to his mouth, licking at her slowly, gently, ignoring the urgent pressing of her hands and her nails digging into his shoulders, taking his time with her. He counters every urgent push she gives to his body by relaxing his strokes, just missing her mark, testing and teasing her.

When she's limp and exhausted and frustrated he kisses his way up her body, hard against the inside of her thigh. Sweat and frustration mark her brow and her hairline and he kisses those spots, tangling his fingers in her hair and arching her neck back to kiss him, devouring her mouth and driving his tongue deep inside hers, rocking his hips against hers again until she catches the rhythm of his body, moving with him helplessly.

He kisses a path down her body, lavishing attention on her breasts and her stomach, then lower as dizziness and weakness wrack their way along her nerves along with need, hunger and an ache building. His fingers slip inside her body and stroke gently along her skin, parting wet heat and invading with slow strokes until her thighs clench and her moans punctuate themselves in a keening build of impending orgasm. Following the beat of her breath and moans, his fingers and mouth work her body until she's arched completely against him and her fists tight at her side, digging into the sheets, sweat-slicked and coming hard against his mouth.

Before the shudders can fade from her, he parts her thighs wider and surges up into her sheath in a fluid motion, his cock deeply impaling her, riding her convulsive pleasure, savoring her heat. He drinks in her expression and moans as she's exquisitely pinioned beneath him. The backs of her thighs are flush against his chest and her knees over his shoulders. His hands brace against the bed and he says softly "Look at me."

She watches in mesmerized fascination at his shoulders, at his face, his eyes. He's completely still until every spasm fades from her nerves and she feels filled, cradled, open, vulnerable, everything he wants her to feel as he's watching her.

Moving very slowly, he draws back and drives deep inside, it's invasive, near painful, and she's overwhelmed and her eyes roll back, but he stops and says "Look at me" again.

Keeping her eyes open is so hard to do, but she tries for him, feeling drugged and battered, but she wants to please him. With each slow stroke her urgency starts to build again and she gains a sharp edge of need, captivated by his eyes, unable to look away.

Driving in and out of her body, a red flush stains his chest and sweat beads on his face, meeting her dazed eyes with his own raw need and passion until he sees tears slip from her eyes. His body batters at her through waves of pleasure and mindless need, her hands tear at him but he holds her in place. His eyes drink in every nuance of her and it makes him more determined. He listens to moans and cries, begging and gasps of exhaustion until she's pushed past that and she's lost everything, even consciousness.

With a guttural roar he lets loose his own orgasm and shudders satisfaction and release into her body, into her skin, kissing the sweat from her and whispering soft words she'll never hear other than in her dreams.

Staring down at her with lazy-lidded eyes and possessive ownership he savors her softness, her vulnerability, her beauty unobserved.

His face lights with an unholy expression and he kisses the tip of her nose, rising from the bed and covering her carefully, gathering his clothes and walking to the bathroom with an almost limp he'd have been careful not to show her if she were awake.

Returning, he gathers one more thing from the floor, kisses her on her sleeping mouth and runs his fingers through her hair to smooth some of the tangles he put there.

On his way out he lowers the thermostat again.

She wakes up later in a freezing room, pulling the covers around herself with a shiver. She's disoriented and her eyes squeeze shut as memory after memory floods back to her.

She reaches for her purse and sighs. It was gone. Goddammit. Her head lowers to her hands and she draws her knees up and starts to cry. When she's beaten herself enough for being trusting and impulsive, she gets up to wash her face and take a bath. On the edge of the tub is a note and Lee's wallet.

The note says "You've got to trust me or I'm going to make you cry every day."

She flips open his wallet and starts to cry again, this time with relief. Inside his billfold is another note with his phone number. "Call me or the purse gets it. I'll bet you're crying again. Wish I were there to see it."

She's going to go ahead with the bath and compose herself. Then she has a call to make.