My stomach twists with nerves, wondering what those questions are. For the first time, when he saved me in that cave, I didn’t feel pathetic in his arms. I felt safe. Now, I want to keep feeling that way, and I tense, hoping his questions won’t send me spiraling back to painful times.
I breathe a little easier when his features relax, and he kissesmy forehead. “I have questions,” he repeats.
“Yes?”
“Two days.” He echoes my earlier statement. “I was out for two days, and now we’re in Oregon. How is that possible?”
“We traveled here,” I can’t help but tease him, despite the weird storm of emotion I’m struggling with.
I squeal when his fingers dig into my ribs, tickling me. But immediately, he stops. “Sorry,” he says contritely. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, even though he definitely did. But I don’t want my stupid injuries to get in the way.
“We traveled by plane,” I explain. “Logan found us. He wanted to drive out here initially, the way he’d planned it for us, switching cars regularly, but your state was very worrying. You’d lost so much blood, and even though he had his doctor join us, it was important to set things up in a sterile environment. Make sure you had real care. So we got here last night, and you spent all night and most of today unconscious. I’m so glad you’re awake.”
I pause, taking a deep breath after all that talking, suddenly wondering if Quill is finding me annoying again. I really wish I wasn’t so annoying. I even annoy myself.
But when I look up at him again, nothing in his expression tells me he’s annoyed. He just looks thoughtful. “Logan was here.”
“Yeah, and he was so worried about you.”
“Right.” He makes a disbelieving sound. “I highly doubt that.”
“He was. He knows you mean a lot to me, and he didn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Right,” he says again. He’s back to stroking my breasts absentmindedly with one hand. I know it’s not sexual now, just comforting for him, so I try to distract myself from the throb between my legs.
“Don’t be jealous of him,” I say suddenly, realizing how all thismight sound. “It’s not at all that kind of thing.”
“I know.” I raise a surprised eyebrow, and he clarifies, “That is, Tragen told me some stuff. I assumed it was true, though I did later discover what a manipulative piece of shit he is.”
“What kind of stuff did he tell you?” I hesitate.
“For one, that your birth name is Aurora Moretti. Is that true? Are you a little mafia princess in disguise in addition to being my cricket?”
I blush as he increases his toying of my nipples, his other hand pressing against my lower stomach. Squeezing my thighs together at the effect it’s having on my body, I admit, “I guess so. It’s hard to believe, but it’s starting to sink in.”
Luckily, it seems like his desire to ask questions is pretty short-lived. Clearly he’s no longer touching me solely for comfort. Maybe it started out that way, but now, his stiff cock under my bottom tells me he’s thinking the exact same dirty thoughts as me.
“Does my being a mafia princess turn you on?” I breathe.
“I always knew you were dangerous,” he teases, his fingers on my nipples turning more insistent. “My naughty little cricket.”
Gone are any thoughts of real danger, and the bleak story that led to my being born in the mafia erases itself from my mind as my thoughts focus entirely on Quill and his hands. Just as his fingers edge once more toward my underwear, I tear myself away from him and kneel on the grass.
“What are you doing?” he asks in surprise.
“Let me pleasure you,” I beg, my hands timidly going to his crotch. “I want to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me. Let me show you how much you own me. How sorry I am.”
He had whipped out his cock, and my mouth was watering for it, for the tip glistening with precum. But when the last words tumble out of my mouth, his face shuts down, and he hastily shoves it back into his briefs.
“No.”
“N-no?” My whole body suddenly feels like it’s grown cold, and the wind is knocked out of me even more than when I was punched. “What did I do wrong, Quill? Please tell me. I’m so sorry. Please.”
By now, embarrassing tears are spilling out of my eyes, and I’m aware that if I hadn’t before, I’m definitely killing his boner now.
I feel so incredibly confused. I’d been hating myself for allowing him around me after the way he’d hurt me, but now, all of that has disappeared abruptly, and every single one of my insecurities is bubbling up at the surface, eating away at me. He doesn’t want me. This is the proof that I repulse him. He’s a beautiful, strong man, and I’m… me.