Page 124 of Quicksilver
So much left out. Painful nights filled with arguments. Nights spent sleeping on hard floors in the sweltering heat with nothing to block out the twins at the windows. Unending hunger and a thirst that was never slaked. ‘Managed’ was a generous term for what life looked like after that bastard had cut my mother's throat.
Fisher finally twisted over and laid his head back on his pillow. “Come here,” he said.
“What?”
“Don't make me drag you down here.” There was a tired but playful catch in his voice.
He wanted me to lie next to him. Hell. I was going to have to unpack that in the morning, honestly, because a wave of exhaustion like no other rolled over me as I scooted down the bed and straightened out my numb legs for the first time in hours. I made sure to arrange myself so that no part of my body was touching Fisher's, but he made a vexed sound and wrapped his arm around my body. Placing his hand against my stomach, he drew me close so that my back was flush with his chest. The warmth from his body was divine. I could feel his heart beating against my back—slow and even, in time with the soft push and pull of his breath. Somewhere toward the foot of the small bed, Onyx groaned comfortably and nestled deeper into the blankets.
This was...new.
Different.
Fisher hooked his fingers underneath the hem of my shirt and rested his hand against my skin. The move wasn't sexual. It was simple contact between one person and another. Grounding. Intimate. A connection.
“My mother was killed, too,” he whispered thickly. “We have that in common, Little Osha.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but he had already fallen asleep.
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It was still darkwhen I came to. It took me a moment to remember where I was and who was wrapped around me so close. Then I lay there, very still, not breathing, hyper-aware of the fact that Fisher's hard cock was digging into my ass and he was almost certainly awake. I'd shared enough beds with enough people to know by someone's breathing if they were conscious or not, and Fisher's breathing wasn't the shallow draw of someone still lost in sleep. It was deep and far too measured, and he felt tense behind me.
He's going to get up and leave the bedroom.
He's going to roll over and tell you that he doesn't want you here.
He's going to say something shitty so thatyou'llleave.
I came up with one terrible imagined eventuality after another, my nerves getting the better of me...but none of those things transpired. Fisher's hand was still underneath my shirt, but it had half-closed, relaxing in his sleep. The material I'd used to bind my chest had come loose and risen up in the night, and his knuckles were brushing the underside of my left breast. Very slowly but with obvious intent, Fisher opened his hand againstmy skin again, pressing his palm against my ribcage. I fastened my lip between my teeth, suddenly panicked, my heart rate kicking up as he ran the tips of his fingers along the underside of my breast, barely making contact at all...
It was a question.
Is this something you want?
I could choose how I answered. If I rounded my shoulders and moved away from him, I knew he'd remove his hand and let me go. We'd both get up and get on with our day, and that would be it. A door between us would close.
Or...
Or.
Fuck it.
I didn't want the door to close.
Letting out a shaky breath, I arched my back, grinding my ass up against Fisher's cock. Gods and sinners, he wassofucking hard. He let out a rough groan, his breath sweeping over my neck, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. His fingers pressed hard against my ribs, and I let my eyes fall closed, relishing the flood of anticipation over what was about to happen.
As if there were some unspoken contract between us, neither of us broke the silence. He moved slowly, though, as if giving me time to change my mind. Rocking his hips forward, he showed mejusthow hard his cock was and what he intended on doing with it.
I already knew what it felt like to have him slide inside me, but this was nothing like when we'd fucked the other day. This promised more. The tension building between us was infused with a different kind of energy. I felt it traveling a millimeter over the surface of my skin, everywhere all at once, burning hot where his hands moved over my abdomen.
My spine flexed as I arched against him, and a thrill of heat rocked me to my core when Fisher rested his forehead against the back of my head and groaned.
I wanted him. More than I wanted to go home. Gods and martyrs, what kind of sister did that make me? Hayden needed me. Elroy did, too. But in the moment, with the smell of him drowning out the entire fucking world and robbing me of all common sense, I wasn't capable of feeling bad about that. There would be time for guilt aplenty later but for now...
Fisher's nose grazed my ear, and a sigh worked its way out of me. How to explain the feeling of a male like Kingfisher breathing heavily into your ear. It wasn't easily done. First, there was the shiver. It started on my neck and spread outward, prickling up the back of my head, trailing a hot-cold pathway down my spine, hitting each vertebra as it went like a skipping stone. It turned into something else once it hit my sacrum. It became heavy. A ball of ache, forming in my stomach, building, sinking lower, drumming at the apex of my thighs so that I had to press my legs together to contain it.
