Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Seventy

    Mia asked for a few minutes of quiet time to consider her options. She attempted to remain logical about the situation instead of allowing her emotions to make the decision. But whenever she tried to rely on logic, the scene with Farrah would start replaying in her head. The same rage she'd felt then would start to creep up, bleeding through the logic and fogging up her mental clarity. She wanted desperately to take the high road on this, but then that bad bitch ideology would whisper into her ear. 

    A bad bitch would make the hoe pay for even daring to think she could steal your man. A bad bitch would make her regret her birth, would make her question her very existence in this fucking world.

    That voice sounded different today...it sounded foreign.

    Drake sat across the room with one ankle resting on the knee of his other leg. He stared at her, politely granting her the silence she'd asked for. Even though she'd asked him for silence, she wished that he would tell her definitively what to do. This wasn't a decision she wanted to make. But he remained quiet, with both concern and rebellion mingling in his eyes. The concern said he was worried about her and the rebellion said that the minute she told him to fight dirty, he was ready to go. 

    She wondered how many times he'd fought dirty in the past, wondered what skeletons he had clinking around in his closet. 

    Ever so subtly, he glanced at the luxury watch looped around his wrist.

    Time dragged on, but she still came no closer to a decision. "Have this other team you'd have to consult, look into her to see what they can dig up," she said carefully. "Don't give them instructions to use any of the information we find. I just want to know what information they come up with. Then, I'll decide."

    "Bet." Immediately, his phone was up to his ear and he set to pacing over near her balcony window.

    She remained in the armchair, cracking her knuckles and nervously tugging at her hair. Knowing that she was digging into another woman's life for the purpose of fighting dirty made her feel dirty. "I need to shower," she muttered and launched herself up from the chair and down the hall, without pausing to see if he'd even heard her. 

    The shower provided very little soothing comfort to her very frazzled nerves. Still, she welcomed the feel of warm droplets hitting her skin. So lost was she in this moral dilemma that she didn't realize the shower stall door was slowly pulled open, didn't notice the large chunk of a man easing himself behind her. She didn't realize he was in with her until his arms circled around her, removing the washcloth from a hand she had braced below the shower head. 

    Quietly, he gathered her hair into one hand and tucked it over one of her shoulders. Then, he pressed tiny kisses to the nape of her neck and shoulders while dragging the washcloth up and down her sides. The distance between them was so miniscule, and still he took that imposing step forward. 

    A gasp left her lips as she felt the entire length of him pressing into the crack of her ass. What moral dilemma? If someone asked her what her name was, she wasn't sure she could have answered. All thoughts fled her mind as his kisses turned into a sucking sensation, softly sucking the skin of her shoulder while pressing more firmly into her. "Mmm," she uttered, her knees growing weak. She didn't dare turn to look at him. The last thing she needed was to see the fire burning in his eyes right now. The last bit of common sense she was clinging to would leave her.

    An arm circled around her and pulled her back onto him. After a little bit of adjusting, he was sliding inside of her while nipping at the crook of her neck with his teeth. His low grunts teased her ears. The arm he kept around her was firm, giving no indication of letting her go any time soon. His thrusts inside of her quickened in pace.

    She kept both of her hands braced against the shower tile and took it. Welcomed it, even. A soft plopping sound reached her ears. It took lowering her gaze to the shower floor and seeing that he'd dropped the washcloth to free up his other hand. That other hand settled on her right hip as he continued pushing inside of her. Without thinking, she began to push back into him, meeting his thrusts. Her passionate moans filled that shower stall the way he was filling her right now. Distantly aware of the hand he used to explore her body, squeezing at her hip, encompassing her right breast, digging his nails into her ass before pulling her ass back onto him, the few light slaps he gave to her ass those moments before he began to jackhammer into her.

    Oh, how she'd missed this. No more tiptoeing around each other, no more tiptoeing around the unbridled lust they felt for each other. No more waiting to claim each other, even though that pesky common sense cautioned her against surging forward too soon. There was no more waiting, after this. The way he was giving it to her, she never wanted another woman to experience with him again. She wanted to be the last. His only. His one. "Your heart is mine," she gasped out.

    "It always was," he grunted out roughly, circling a hand around her neck while railing her.

    "Your body is mine," she moaned out, her voice straining against a closing throat.

    "No one else could possess it," he promised her.

    "That dick is mine," she croaked. "It belongs to me."

    Abruptly, his hand fell from her throat and he pulled out of her.

    She turned to face him, breathing heavily. Water soaked her hair and rolled down her breasts. 

    That same water clung to his beautiful, thick eyelashes and rolled down thick, corded arms. "Does it?"

    "It always has," she said, tilting her chin up.

    There that fire was, burning his eyes to the point of nearly changing their color. He made a low, guttural sound she'd never heard him back before and scooped her up in his arms before slamming her against the shower wall and shoving himself inside her again. They clung to each other like they needed each other more than the air they were breathing, gasped for that same air as they joined and became one. 

    She cried out just as he exploded inside of her and she exploded around him. Even after the aftershocks subsided, she continued clinging to him and continued kissing him while the water continued to wash away all past grievances they had against each other. All of their issues shed from them with every drop of falling water, and circled the drain of that shower until there were no traces remaining. And then it was just them, a man who loved a woman and a woman who loved a man. Then it was just them, a couple who would fight for the kind of love you only found once in a lifetime - despite mistakes being made and despite judgment being cast their way. Because they weren't living for anyone else. Right here, right now, they decided to live - and love - for themselves.