Promise Nothing

There was supposed to be a wedding. A baby. Sex. Love.

Ida McNown was supposed to trade her life, her name for fields full of deer, clouds, and a man who did not love her. But Ida's mother was talking about lace and babies and uniting two clans. It was a dream.

But it was not her dream. No, she dreamed of something else.

XXX

She pulled on his uniform, tugging the jacket off his shoulders. She untied his belt, pushed his shirt to the side. She watched his chest strain, as if his heart were trying to escape right into her palm. She pressed her hand against his cheek and smiled.

"You are sweet," she muttered. "You taste like sweets."

She sucked on his pulse, where the neck met his shoulders and the veins stood out. He tweaked her nipple through her shirt and laughed when she arched, a succulent bend of flesh. When Ida moaned, too hot to be teased, too desperate to be ignored, Jon felt his member grow harder.

He shoved his hand down her pants, tugging at her underwear, fingers dipping into her heat. He shoved a finger in, pleasantly surprised at her tight, warm heat. She was not a virgin but she blushed like one. He kept a rigid pace until she tensed and moaned.

"Please, don't tease me," Ida hissed into his ear, before biting it.

Jon hissed back, burned by her breathe and hot tongue.

"Say my name," Jon demanded, possessive. "Say it like you mean it."

Ida groaned when his fingers kept going. "Jon, I want you Jon. I mean it. I want you."

Jon smiled. Ida claimed his lips. He removed his fingers—Ida groaned, "No, please don't go."—and pulled at her spandex shorts, determined to show her how much he loved her.

Her small hand stopped him.

"Say it." Ida demanded playfully into his collar bone. "Say this means something." That is wasn't some childhood fantasy or bet that would leave her alone in the morning. "Say it."

Jon lifted her face towards him, his thick fingers curling against her delicate cheekbones. He watched her for a long second before he kissed her. She melted into him, one hand going into his curly brown hair, the other intent on his belt. She pushed him back to get to his belt, dragging his pants and underwear off in one fluid motion. Her hand gripped his shaft, gluing her lips back to his. He tensed before groaning, "Ida."

"Say it, Jon."

"Ida, I need you." He rolled his hips up.

Her hands paused.

"No, what you said last night." Ida looked desperate. "He never says it."

"I love you, Ida," Jon said between gritted teeth as her hand began to move faster, nails scrapping the sensitive flesh. He drew air in through his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He reached his hand under her skirt, fingering her. He ripped her shorts off, panties and all and threw them into a pile. Her shirt and bra were next. He was not one to let a feast go to waste. He wanted to devour every inch of her. Her lips parted, he claimed them.

Moving onto her neck, he loved the way she jumped when his fingers found a ticklish spot on her back. Fingers tracing her treasure, he went make to making her jump.

"By Fire, Jon, you feel good."

He grinned.

Her hair fell against his throat, causing him to maneuver her. He pushed her against the tree. She hooked her lean legs over his hips, bringing her wet core against his groin.

He left red marks where his mouth teased her skin.

"Mine," he told her. "Mine, this is mine, and this. And this is definitely mine."

"Stop, stop teasing, Cho..." Ida's voice wavered. She was dying. She was ablaze.

It was too much too soon. Fuck. But she wanted it.

He loved her. That was enough—everything.

It was everything.

Jon's mouth tasted like BBQ and his hands worn, weathered leather. He left wet trails with his tongue, traced them with dry fingers. He asked her if she wanted this. She didn't know what she wanted, this was better than silence, empty promises, and Tomika haunting Shawn's eyes.

Ida gripped his shoulders, his muscle bunched under sun hot skin. A moan left her mouth, a scream following. She arched back as he thrust in. She pushed herself against him. He asked her with his eyes, do you want this. And she kissed him so hard their teeth clicked.

He smiled, making her stomach curl. He thrust into her harder, the wet slap odd. He trailed his lips down to her chin, to her neck. He bit her gently. She turned her head into his neck and returned the gesture.

He pressed his left hand against her breast, tugging on a nipple. He traced a battle scar down her stomach and around her ribs to her spine. He heated her cold, ice queen skin. His warm hands making her melt as they came together.