Make Me Whole...
by sarAdora
~~~~~~~

Perched on the edge of the barstool, she enumerated the many reasons why she was in this dingy place. Miserable rotten day... arrogant SOB of a boss... Ought to quit that job... go elsewhere... Sawyer can just take that job and shove it... He... Her eyes scanned the crowd as she lost herself in thought. Who the hell does he think he is? He's a... he's a... The thought escaped her, the cold glass of melted ice and diluted gin firmly gripped in her fingers... her third... fourth... She wasn't sure; not that it mattered. The alcohol didn't give her the oblivion she so desperately sought. The bar was retro 60's... so mediocre it was almost chic. Tucked away in the bowels of a broken down warehouse in a seedy part of town... no windows... no ventilation... no class. The walls were painted black... they matched her mood.

It was smoky in the bar... dark and noisy the way bars are supposed to be, small pockets of hush... silence waiting to be filled... the kind of atmosphere that draws you there in the first place. It reeked... rank bodies, musk, the smell of sex and unresolved lust and heat and lost souls... lots of lost souls. It was just the sort of place for...

She dropped the cigarette dangling from her fingers; it had only been a prop, good for vamping. Running a practiced hand up her thigh, she slid a finger under her garters, adjusting them before sliding off the barstool and slinking along the outer edge of the room.

Too much smoke... too much gin... her eyes glazed, leaving everything blurred at the edges... grainy. But she could still think and that was the problem. And then there was the emptiness... The raw ache inside stabbing... piercing... hot and cold and empty.

With nonchalance, she circled the room, a sway in her hips... a blatant invitation. She wanted someone... some man... strong enough to flip her inside out, make her forget... make her remember...

Assessing the crowd, she picked out a likely prospect... a face... a torso... a tight ass... an attitude... So far, nothing set her blood to boiling. And she wanted it to boil. She wanted her heart to pound... she wanted her pulse to race. She wanted fear... anger... arousal...

"Hey there," a soft male voice murmured.

A man... black hair... hard gray eyes... leveled at hers... easy... good looking. Smooth chiseled jaw... broad shoulders... slim hips painted into tight jeans.

"Looking for me...?" asked with a boyish grin.

"Maybe," she drawled, her voice lazy with alcohol.

He took her drink, set it on a nearby ledge, and enfolded her hand in his. "Come on. I'll give you what you need."

He tugged her into a hallway lit by neon. Couples tightly clutched together lined the walls, so tight she could barely distinguish male from female. Kissing... groping... rocking into each other.

Sniffing the air, she caught the sticky sweet scent of controlled substance and that made her hesitate, made her pull back. She had many faults but snorting drugs wasn't one of them.

"Down here," he coaxed. "We can do whatever you want. No one can see."

She tossed her head, trying to shake away the warning alarm whistling in her brain. For just a moment, she was nerve naked. Wasn't this what I came for? Her heart skipped a few beats; perspiration dotted her brow. He pulled her deeper into the darkness and into a tiny alcove that had once housed a telephone booth. Now, it was only a dark niche with peeling paint that reeked of sex... recent sex.

He pushed her up against the wall, half in... half out of the tiny corner. The scent of sweat filled the space... sweat and sex and whiskey... scents that made her nostrils flare. "It's private here," he purred, his knee edged between her legs.

Blindly, she reached for him, guiding his hands to her body, her breath on hold as she waited for his touch. His fingers found the soft under curve of her breasts, tip-toed higher and teased her nipples. They swelled... sensitive... she sighed softly.

His knee urged her thighs apart, his groin pressing hard... She could feel his cock, swollen... eager. One hand dropped away from her breast, fondled her bare thighs. Fingers danced... pushed her slip up... baring her to anyone that cared to look.

The first tingling pleasure spiked along with his fingers. Something low in her belly began to throb, pulse... "Yessss..." she hissed, long, sibilant sighs of pleasure... Her hand found his cock, curved around it. His found the juncture of her thighs. She sighed again. Her eyelids fluttered... closed... prepared to enjoy more... then jolted open as he was jerked away from her. Another body pushed between them... anger... shoving the man away from her.

She whimpered as the pleasure she'd been feeling was whisked away like something blown by a gust of wind... the tail end of a tornado. The interloper was huge... big body, with a brute strength he displayed arrogantly... casually. He reached out, caught the other man by the throat. "I think you've made a mistake. This lady's with me."

She gasped. In the darkness of the alcove, with her vision clouded by alcohol... and need... she hadn't recognized the body, the incredibly broad shoulders. But she knew the voice... the command in it.

Sawyer... her boss... ...arrogant son-of-a-bitch!

Her emotions bounced... relief. He wasn't a crazy junkie pushing in to rape her. Shame... that he found her there. Anger... that he was there. Despair... her need for redemption weighing her down. Redemption for what?

For... for nothing... for feeling nothing... for despair... that awful emptiness.

She had to do something other than stand there with her hands hanging by her sides while her boss choked the living... but before she could protest, her nameless date surrendered.

The dark haired man lost interest in her. He backed away from the larger man and quickly disappeared back into the smoky neon glow of the hallway. She moved to follow.

Sawyer stepped back, giving her room to breathe... room to move, but not enough room to slip past him. He leaned in... shrouding her. "Haven't you ever seen Looking for Mr. Goodbar, Ms. Madison?"

She knew she should be mortified... angry. She was neither. She turned, looking for something... anything that would blot out his words... looking for escape.

He slammed one palm to the wall just inches from her nose, blocking her escape. The only way out was around him on the other side. He leaned closer, proximity making his voice louder, meaner. "What would you do if you didn't know me? I could be a rapist. Or someone who collects body parts from ladies who pick up strangers in bars."

She pulled back... the edges where his fingers pressed against the wall were blurred. Shaking off a sudden vertigo, she covered it with gin induced bravado, breaching the fine line between courage and stupidity. "I would have kicked your ass."

"You think so?" He shoved her, slapping the heel of his hand into her shoulder. Anger...controlled anger.

The push was hard enough to make her mind carom from side to side like some crazy roller coaster. Whirling... spinning... up... down... a crazy succession of thoughts, screeching past each other so fast she couldn't bring them into focus. How dare he touch me? He's never touched me before. Why has he stopped me? I was just beginning to feel... Why doesn't he move out of my way?

Her body shifted to move deeper into the alcove... swaying with the weight of too many questions... fastening on the one thing that made sense. If she had to go around him, she'd go around him.

He didn't give any indication that there *was* a way around him. He clapped his other hand to the wall, bracing it just to the side of her head. The curved line of his upper lip tightened into a straight, disapproving slash. He seemed to swoop and zoom back and forth, too close, then very far away. One moment, Sawyer. The next, some Paleolithic creature, his arms sweeping out to crush her like big black wings.

"How are you going to kick my ass? You can't even get out of here." His voice was mocking, deceptively low... threatening. She squeezed her eyes closed and he stepped back... just enough so she was no longer pressed into the wall, but not enough that she could take a deep breath without touching him. Not enough...

Her face was barely an inch from his chest. The scent of winter, of clean, cold air still clung to his coat. Underneath that scent, she could smell his starched cotton shirt, the musk of soap, the warmth of his skin.

"Answer me!" ...a demand...

She didn't remember the question. The scent of him had sucked all the oxygen. She reached out to push him away but it was like pushing an unyielding wall... solid and unmoving muscle. She stepped sideways... ducked to slip from between the wall of Sawyer and the wall of concrete behind her, but his hand slid down, still gripping the wall, trapped...

Again, she reached to push him away, then let both hands drop to her sides. There was no point in proving *his* point, no point in further shredding her dignity by straining against an immovable object. If he thinks he can intimidate me with his size... She squared her shoulders as best she could without touching him and stared at the white, blurred field that was his shirt. "It's none of your business, sir."

Her flat tone infuriated him. His voice went down an octave. "None of my business?"

Her hair moved with his breath... her bones vibrated to his voice.

"No, sir, it's none of your business, and I'd appreciate it if you'd get out of my way."

He grabbed her.

One moment, his hand was on the wall beside her shoulder, the next, holding the back of her head in a painful grip, his fingers tangled in her hair. The movement was so quick... so rough... she cried out.

She wavered... the roughness of his hand, the unexpectedness of it. Each finger... his thumb... the heel of his hand... the flat palm... cradling her skull. Her skin prickled... stung where he was pulling her hair.

She had been looking for fear. She found it.

His anger was no longer controlled.

"I'm making it my business." He yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Are you looking for danger, Ms. Madison? Does it turn you on? Make you feel alive?" Each sentence punctuated with an angry tug at her hair.

She cringed from his questions... far too close to the truth. Twisting her head, she tried to get away from his fingers... his honesty.

"Yes!" she hissed, jabbing back the only way she knew how. "Yes! I'm looking for someone to make me feel! Make me feel alive! Is that what you want to hear?"

His fingers tightened on her scalp as he closed the distance between them, forcing her to straighten her spine, to tilt her head further back, forcing her to open her eyes. "Look at me! Look at me!" Livid... raw... angry... words... breathing fire. And filled with pain as if he was the one threatened.

His pain did what his roughness had not. She opened her eyes, met his gaze and gasped at what she saw on his face... Technicolor anger... sharp edged passion... brightly focused desire... Even in the barely lit hallway, he was clear... she was clear... and all the fuzziness was gone.

"You want danger?" His face came down. A hard, cruel mouth rushing toward her. He leaned against her, hard... unyielding... crushing her... burning her. "You can quit looking."

He was going to kill her. She knew it. He was going to kiss her and make her feel his angry passion, and it would kill her. She loathed it... craved it...

"No!"

His mouth hovered, so close, but not touching. "Why not? You want danger? Isn't screwing your boss in a crowded bar dangerous enough?"

"Noooo..." A long wail, but meaningless... She could hear the blood humming in her ears, feel it pulsing between her legs. "No." She whispered denial once again... strained upward, yanking viciously on his coat, pulling his mouth to hers. She pushed her tongue into his mouth... felt his lips... smooth... the warmth of his mouth... moist... the edges of his teeth... sharp... She tasted... the sweetness of his hiss... his surprise... and his instant response. His tongue dueled with hers... chased back into her mouth... took her breath away.

She disentangled her hands from his jacket, reached lower... He was erect, hard, pressing against his pants.

He groaned at her touch, dragging her further back into the alcove. With his free hand, he reached down to his zipper, helped her fumbling fingers draw it open... a metallic whisper loud in her ears. Slipping her hands inside, she spread her palms flat against heat that burned through layers of shirt and shorts. He groaned again.

His hand left her hair, descended to her shoulder with a command she couldn't mistake. "No. Not here. Too dangerous."

"You wanted danger." His voice sinister, offering no choice. It sent a shiver down her spine. She backed into the darkest corner of the alcove, turning so his back was to the hallway, and went to her knees. The floor was gritty... cold... condemning... His hands pushed hers away, rearranging layers of clothing, pulling his cock free.

He murmured something, his voice muffled. She didn't understand the words, but she understood the demand. She did what he wanted... what she wanted... tasted him... He tasted like the musk of peaches... sweet salt... slick passion. He was hard and silky soft, all at the same time.

He sighed with pleasure, his fingers twining in her hair, guiding her roughly, showing her how he wanted her mouth to move on him. His breathing was as harsh as his hands, harsh as his voice... lust filled... gruff. "Good," he whispered. "So good."

She clutched his thighs, braced and rock hard with tension, giving herself over to the pressure of him against the back of her mouth... Her tongue and lips caressed one way... then another... each movement translated into the quivering in his muscles and into the throbbing between her legs. He tasted good. He felt good... filling her mouth... moving... filling her with an ache she allowed herself to feel.

He shuddered and pulled away, taking away the thick hardness. With a wordless sound of protest, she reached for him. He stopped her, his hands slipping from her hands to her elbows to her armpits, lifting her to her feet with easy strength. His fingers slid down, pausing as he flicked his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. They were erect, as hard as his cock, almost raw... with need.

His fingers were sweet torture, sliding against her silk chemise until he was cupping the whole fullness of her breasts in his big hands. She wished desperately that she was naked against him... beneath him.

"Please," she breathed, knowing that what she was pleading for was nothing she could have...

He kissed her, licking the taste of himself from her tongue. "How dangerous do you want to be?" he whispered in her ear, his big body pressing her against the wall. His cock, still wet from her mouth, was against her stomach. She could feel the heat of him...

She moved against him, rubbing... rocking... imagining him inside her. "How dangerous do you want to be?" he repeated. He caught her chin, tilted it back until she was looking at his face. He held up the little square foil packet, just inches from her eyes. She stared at it.

"If you want it, you do it," he breathed. "Put it on me."

She wanted his velvet skin against her... in her... but sanity prevailed. The small packet crackled in her hand as she tore it open. She fitted the latex circle to the thick head of his cock, smoothed it down, taking much longer than was necessary, her fingers gentle... greedy... a feeling of power as he trembled.

He watched her fingers... his cock... watched the movement of her pale hands as she stroked... caressed. She looked up, wanting to see hunger on his face, and was rewarded... famine!

He moved in her fingers, rocking his hips slowly, his gaze locked on himself, enclosed in her hands.

She gripped him tight, stroked him roughly... expertly... punishing... cruel. Slipped her fingers inside his zipper. His balls were drawn up tight against his body, and she squeezed... hard... punishing... cruel... payback.

He groaned... swayed... a sequoia moved from limbs to roots by the power of her hands. He grabbed her hips, hands sliding down. "Is this what you want? Is this dangerous enough?"

She felt the power of his voice. It followed the path of his hands, touched her breasts, her spine, her thighs... hot... demanding... his hands finding her bare skin... burning her... searing.

Growling as he stretched his fingers wide, he cupped her whole bottom. His fingers slipped lower, searching for the wetness seeping... "Naughty." The way he hissed the word, as if it was the sweetest compliment... delicious and forbidden.

She surged up against him and he lifted her. Up... bracing her with the weight of his body, imprisoning her against the wall. She was supported by the strength of his arms, his hands gripping her bottom. He spread her legs, his fingers slipping deeper inside her.

She cried out as he lifted her higher, then with consummate aim, settled her back down onto his cock. He filled her, and she threw her arms around his neck, clutching him, and closed her eyes to a rainbow of pleasure. Rockets... spangles of delight exploding... no longer caring whether she was safe or in danger or whether she could feel... or was numb... She was filled... he was moving... thrusting up into her... quick, powerful jabs.

He rushed into her... pouring... emptied. It was more incredible than any fantasy. The power... the strength of him... beneath her hands... between her thighs.

NO! Not yet. Not yet. Too soon. She wasn't ready. She arched against him, wanting him to move hard and fast again. Wanting...

He stilled inside her, allowed her weight to drag her slowly down the wall. Off of him. He slipped out of her, left her empty... bereft... aching. "No. Please."

He looked at her face, at her flushed skin, feverish eyes. His were glazed, unfocused. He leaned into her, breathing hard, his cock still hard. "It's not over." His fingers slipped between her legs, moved easily in the silky wetness. "I'm not finished with you," hunger twisting his voice.

She moaned, rose up on tiptoe. He shifted, slipped his fingers deeper... caressing... squeezing... manipulating her as expertly as if he could feel her orgasm building along his own nerves.

Just as she shifted her feet further apart, as he found the rhythm she wanted, he pressed his mouth to her ear. "Is this enough? Is this what you want? I want to hear you say it."

"No." She writhed against his hand, trying to ignore his insistence, her own fear.

"Say it."

"Don't!" she cried. "Please."

Ignoring her protest, he pulled his hand away. Covered her torso with his larger one so that she couldn't use her own hands to finish what he wouldn't.

"Please!"

"Not until you tell me what I want to hear."

"Please!"

"Please what? "Please this?" he snarled, tossing her over his arm, yanking her chemise up to bare her butt... The slaps were hard... harder... swift hard spanks that seared her with such a sudden intensity she thought she'd vaporize. "Can you feel this? Do you want more?"

"No," she wailed. "No more! No more!"

"What do you want Ms. Madison?" he demanded. "Do you need a lesson in manners? Do you need your ass whipped before you can feel...? Before you can talk...? Before you get screwed by your boss? "Talk to me," he growled, each menacing word punctuated by the hot hard weight of his hand.

When her bottom cheeks flamed... scarlet... and the spasms passed... quieted... his hand hovered... a shiver catching them... his... hers... "Tell me what you want. Talk to me," he murmured, his voice going soft... low, his hand descending again... lighter slaps... tingling slaps... his fingers dipping... there... again... and stilled.

"Please," she moaned. "Do it again. Make me feel alive... make me whole."

He didn't pause... lifted her with an arm around her waist, her body tucked under his arm. His hand came down... hard, her bruised and bared bottom again taking the brunt of his previous anger... his desire... his lust... She whimpered with each descent of his hand, her body rocking to the assault, detesting it... craving it... mending... healing...

"Sh-h-h... Hush..." The sounds he made finally penetrated... the spanking long since over, her orgasms... complete... her body cradled in his arms as he leaned against the wall. He stroked her face, fingering tears, tucked her into the safety of his embrace. "Sh-h-h," he murmured again. "You're alive... alive... You can feel... Stay with me. I'll keep you whole."

~ Fini ~

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