The Finish Line

by Stewart , Kate

  “Whatever,” he huffs. “Are you going to let me talk?”

  Lips quivering with threatening laughter, I nod.

  “I want a temporary truce.”

  “As in?”

  “No club talk of any kind, just you and me. Just us, Cecelia. That’s why I came here, for us. This isn’t about the fucking club or the part it plays with us. And that’s what we can’t seem to get past.”

  “For how long?”

  “We can take it day by day?”

  “Halloweenie by Halloweenie?” He growls, and I laugh. “Sorry, but it’s hilarious.”

  “Keep it up. I may strangle you tonight.”

  “Ooooo, a Halloweenie reenactment.” I waggle my brows. “Are we going to play dress-up?”

  “Yes,” he draws out in monotone. “You’re playing lumberjack.”

  “What?”

  He darts his eyes to the waiting pajamas on my bed.

  “Har, har.”

  “So? Can we agree to a ceasefire?” His expression shifts, the look in his eyes imploring.

  “A temporary truce sounds perfect to me.”

  “Good. Take a shower. We’ve much to do. A list of Halloween rituals, and I’m making turkey chili. Deanna said, it’s a good Hallo—” he stops himself, and I press my lips together, “—ween meal for a cold night.”

  “Who’s Deanna?”

  “She’s my cashier.”

  “You have a cashier?”

  “No, well, I go to her line.” He bites his lip. “Every time.”

  I lift a brow. “Is that so?”

  He nods. “I trust her.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  He rolls his eyes. “She is young.”

  “Now I’m really worried.”

  “Her boyfriend, Ricky, works at the liquor store, and they have two kids.”

  “You sure do know a lot about her.”

  “She helps me,” he explains vaguely.

  “Helps you what?”

  “With you,” he says softly, and my heart seizes at the fact he’s taking relationship advice from a checkout girl.

  “Well, you should trust her. You did good.” I push up onto my toes and brush my lips against his. “You’ve already beaten every single first date I’ve ever had.”

  My sentiment touches him, and he kisses me, really kisses me before releasing me too soon. His eyes trail over me before he turns and heads back to the kitchen and I bite my lip, staring after him until he disappears with Beau on his heels.

  Water streams from Tobias’s face as he triumphantly lifts the apple with his teeth. His eyes are dancing with victory as I clap for him while he shakes the water out of his hair like a soaked dog.

  “Good job, King. Bobbing for Apples, check,” I say through a laugh, “but you didn’t have to put your whole head in.”

  He pats his face dry with a kitchen towel. “I don’t see the point of this.”

  “Me neither, really. It’s just a thing.”

  “I think we’ll skip it next year,” he says as he runs the towel over his neck, and my heart warms at the idea of another year. He tosses the apple onto the newspaper we have spread on the floor, just as my curious mutt interjects himself between us, dipping his snout into the large tin of apples.

  “Non,” Tobias snaps, and Beau jerks back before gathering a pile of pumpkin spaghetti guts in his paws and dragging it off with him.

  “Ah, come on!” I cry as Beau tries to escape. Tobias manages to catch him, wiping his feet off before letting him out the back door. I trash the newspaper as Tobias lights the candles in our finished pumpkins. I walk over and click off the kitchen light as he sets the lid back in mine and join him where he stands as we survey them both on the table.

  “Well, I believe you win,” I say, admiring his raven-littered pumpkin. “It’s awesome.”

  “Yours is terrible,” he retorts, looking at my gap-toothed jack-o-lantern.

  Laughter bursts from me as I weigh his serious expression.

  “All right, boyfriend 101, even if it’s terrible, or I look fat in my jeans, lie to me.”

  “Now you want me to lie?”

  “You are such an ass.”

  “Come on,” he orders, picking up his pumpkin. “We have to put them on the porch to scare the bad spirits away.”

  Grinning, I gather my terrible pumpkin and follow him out to the porch. We sit them side by side in the freezing, star-filled night. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me back into his chest as we survey my front yard. The trees lining the driveway are nearly bare, but the view is picturesque due to the size of the yard and the distant moon beaming high above the field across the street.

  “It is peaceful here, Cecelia.”

  “But?”

  “No but, I have adjusted. Come on. It’s cold.”

  Just as we turn to walk in, I see a dark object racing toward us and scream as it comes into full view, eye level, and hovers just feet away.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he chuckles. “It’s just Tyler, saying hi,” he lifts his hand and flips him the bird.

  “That’s a drone.”

  “Yes.”

  Yeah, just your average, normal, everyday Halloween, Cecelia. But no part of me resents it.

  “Since when do we have drones?”

  “I told you.”

  “No, you didn’t. I’m pretty sure I would remember you telling me we have drones.”

  “Oh,” he recalls, “I told your parents.”

  “Well, it sure helped that they knew.” I glance back at him, and he flashes me remorse.

  “Sorry.”

  “This is a prime example of why you’ll forever be in the doghouse, King.” I turn back to where the drone is and wave enthusiastically to Tyler before I start to blow kisses.

  Behind me, Tobias growls, before jerking me back inside the house and pinning me to the back of the door. He flips the lock three times, placing his palms next to my head, eyes narrowing. “You don’t give those away.”

  “No?”

  He jerks his chin. “No. Not negotiable.”

  “Such a jealous man. It’s a good thing I don’t want to kiss anyone else.”

  “Non?”

  “Non,” I whisper and bite my lip, anticipation thrumming through me when he lifts his finger, tugging it free from my teeth before running his thumb along it, his eyes pooling. He leans down and places a brief kiss to my lips, his gaze drifting down to my pajamas before he steps away.

  And now I’m starting to hate my own flannels.

  “What’s next?” I ask, following him back into the kitchen.

  Twenty minutes later, after sharing a joint, caramel apples setting, we cue up Halloween and take turns shoving popcorn into each other’s mouths. Amazed at the turn this day has taken, I study him through the flicker of tealights and the flashes of light from the movie. I watch Tobias watch the slasher flick for the first time.

  I’m his first girlfriend and his only love. The truth of that sinks in as I stroke his chest through his thermal.

  Being a part of his firsts will never get old, no matter how big or small. It’s painfully obvious he’s missed a lot of living, and because of that, there’s a sort of innocence about him that’s still there, despite his age and the type of life he’s led up to this point. It wasn’t purposeful. It’s just how it happened. And the truth of that is so alluring that I can’t help but burrow deeper into him, pulling him closer to me.

  He deserves this vacation just to be able to experience a little life without the club’s expectations. The same way he did in those short months we were together, but even then, he was working. He’s a free man now, and I’m determined to make it good for him. What he needs from me is so fucking simple. He needs me to assure him that it’s okay to live for himself, for his own happiness, because he doesn’t know what living is if he’s not doing it for someone else. It’s a habit I’ll be hard-pressed to break, even though it’s one of the most incredible things about him, but h
e’s suffered enough for it. And in truth, it seems an unbreakable habit seeing as how he’s done it most of his life.

  But any small victory for me will be a sweet loss for him. However, in time, I will force him to make decisions based on what he wants—to be a little more selfish with his own needs. He runs his hand along the wings on my back as I press a kiss to his throat. His eyes dart to mine as the familiar serial killer track starts to play, his muscular arms tightening around me as he flicks his attention back to the screen and absently strokes me with his fingers.

  Best Halloweenie ever.

  A little after midnight, I peek out of the bathroom and spot Tobias in his black boxers, perched against the headboard where he’s worked on his laptop since we came in from walking Beau. Shutting the door, I turn on the faucet and pull the box from beneath the bathroom cabinet where I tucked it away earlier. Tugging on the bow that binds it, I gather what I need and stuff it back beneath the sink before stripping and running juniper lotion over my skin. My nipples draw tight in anticipation as I redress, loading my toothbrush before scrubbing my teeth.

  A thousand butterflies swirl in my stomach as I rinse my mouth and run my fingers through my hair. Checking my appearance one last time, I click off the light and open the door. Surveying him where he sits, I drink in every inch of his muscled body, pulse kicking up as my thirsty eyes devour him. His onyx hair is tousled. His sleek features are drawn tight in concentration as he types, intent on his task. His muscular forearms flex, lifting the pillow for a glimpse of the deeply etched V that starts at his hip. Wetness gathers between my legs as I linger in the doorway, growing thirstier by the second. It’s only when I move to stand at the end of the bed that he pauses his fingers over the keys, slowly lifting his eyes from the screen to where I stand. A hundred emotions flit through his smoldering eyes before they blaze over the negligee he bought for me years ago.

  My belly dips when he slowly closes his laptop as I stand in wait, skin buzzing, heart thundering, as he adjusts himself on the mattress with his fists, edging to the end of the bed. In seconds, I’m between his spread legs as he presses his forehead against my stomach, running it back and forth along the silky material.

  “Cecelia,” my name comes out strangled as he lifts his eyes to mine, setting my skin alight. Lifting his chin to rest on my stomach, he palms my calves in the gentlest of caresses before he slowly starts to work his way up.

  “I was tempted so many times to throw it away,” I confess on a whisper. “I did once or twice—the bow has a ketchup stain on it,” I rasp out, his touch electrifying, sending goosebumps over my flesh, “but I never could bring myself to part with it.” I pluck his hair as he gazes up at me, his hands slowly working their way up as his fingers ghost along the back of my thighs. “I used to sleep in it on hard nights and tell myself that maybe if I wore it…,” I struggle with the memory, “maybe it would be the night you came back for me. It’s…stupid, I know, but that’s how much I missed you.”

  “Not stupid,” he whispers hoarsely, sliding his palms over the curve of my ass to find me bare. A soft curse leaves him as he strokes my skin, spreading wildfire throughout my humming body.

  “Soft,” he murmurs, his palms lifting the material to bare me to him. “Sensual,” he bends, running his tongue along my slit. “Delicate,” he continues, repeating the words he seduced me with the first time he slipped the nightgown down my body. “Beautiful, so beautiful,” he draws me forward with beckoning hands, tilting my hips as he sucks the whole top of my pussy with fervor. His dark lashes flutter closed as he spreads me with an explorative tongue, whispering it over my throbbing clit.

  “Tobias,” my needful moan fuels him, and he stands, gripping my face before crushing our mouths together. He licks into my mouth as I slide my palm down his muscled stomach. I match his thirsty licks, reaching into his boxers and grip his thick cock in my hand, rubbing the precum off the fat crown with my thumb.

  His groan vibrates in my mouth as I squeeze him from root to tip. Hunger taking over, I break our kiss and drop to my knees, taking his boxers down as I go. Clawing his ass, I grip him firmly, flicking my eyes up to his before licking my lips and taking him to the back of my throat.

  “Putain.” Fuck. He fists my hair in an effort to control me as I go feral, taking him in deeper, choking on his girth as saliva dangles from my lips.

  “Cecelia,” he hisses as I suck his veined length to the thick head before again diving, my eyes never straying from his. It’s when I start to leisurely explore, licking along the side of his massive shaft that he snaps and jerks me from my knees. In a flash, I’m pinned to the bed by his kiss alone as he dips his thick fingers between my thighs, stretching them to ready me. And in the next breath, he’s on his back, lifting me easily before positioning me to straddle his face, his tongue plunging into me with meticulous licks as he grips my wrists, pinning them to the tops of my thighs.

  Lust takes over as he devours me, his tongue assaulting while keeping me at his mercy. I feel every single thrust as he eats me, his groan vibrating my lower half before he finally releases my hands.

  “Lift,” he orders, and I do, tilting forward to prop on my palms on the mattress. He adjusts me to hover where he wants me before using his fingers and tongue until I’m trembling with the onslaught. He jackhammers his tongue against my clit, never stopping as his fingers probe, stretch, fuck. The build intensifies until I’m stuttering between begging and rapid breaths. He lifts his head to delve deeper, his black hair tickling my thighs before he sucks the whole of me between his lips, kissing my pussy just as thoroughly as he does my mouth before condemning me between torturous, relaxed licks.

  “Dois-je te laisser aller?” Should I free you?

  His breath hits my clit before he flattens his tongue along it, robbing me just as I start to crest.

  “Tobias,” I plea, grinding against his mouth for more friction, so close I can feel the early tremors of my orgasm. He gazes up at me, the hem of my negligee dancing along his face and neck, and I lift it to get a better view of him beneath me. His eyes hood as he circles his finger, nipping my clit before pulling away.

  “Dois-je être indulgent?” Should I show you mercy?

  Another tortuous lick as he runs a skilled finger along my G, and I cry out in frustration as he edges me. “Tu n’en as pas fait preuve envers moi.” You’ve shown none toward me.

  “Let me come,” I hiss, ripping at his hair as he thrusts his tongue inside to replace his finger, cupping my ass to go deeper.

  “Please,” I beg as he runs his palm over my silk-covered breasts, molding and squeezing, his mouth working me into a frenzy until I’m wound so tight with need, I can hardly breathe.

  His growl sounds a second before he closes his lips around my clit and sucks, and with the beckoning of his finger, I detonate. He grips my hips as I ride it out, running me back and forth along his heavenly mouth as I shatter, nearing a scream when I call his name. Soaked and shaking in the aftermath, he continues to lap me up until my high has partially subsided.

  And then I’m on my back, as he groans against my mouth, his eyes demanding. Hovering, he parts my thighs with his palms, hitching my legs up high before running his thick head through my folds in a wicked taunt.

  “Please.”

  My core aches with dire need as he teases me, massaging my clit with his crown until I’m writhing beneath him.

  “Look at me,” he commands. I lift my eyes to his molten depths as he drives into me with one earth-shattering thrust. My back bows as I gaze up at him, mouth parted, breath ripped from me just as his eyes close.

  “Putain. Mon Dieu.” Fuck. My God.

  Choking from the invasion, my pussy pulses painfully, stretching around every inch of him just as his eyes flame open.

  “Forgive me.” He grips my throat, draws back, and mercilessly drives in again. I shout out as he tears through me with abandon, my thighs shaking as he pistons his hips and fucks me like I’m about to disappear
.

  Strokes unforgiving, I dig my nails into his chest as he lifts to his knees, pushing my thighs further apart, his gaze dipping to where we connect as he drives in again. I follow, becoming equally transfixed on the sight of us connecting.

  “Ma chatte. Mon corps. Ma femme. Mon cœur. Ma vie.” My pussy. My body. My woman. My heart. My life.

  His words tip me into a free fall, another orgasm paralyzing me, overpowering me until I burst into fast breaths with the rush. Rippling with aftershocks, he dips his head, kissing me frantically, thick lips brushing over every inch of exposed skin before he sucks my silk-covered breast into his mouth, pulling down the material to suck the other. He begins to shake above me, his kisses becoming frantic, his fucking just as hurried as if we’re running out of time.

  His chest glistens with a thin sheen of sweat as he ravages me, unrelenting, until I feel the shift, feel him falter. I kiss his Adam’s apple as he swallows a grunt and scoops me beneath my arms to cup my shoulders, hands spread over my wings as our chests brush.

  “I’m sorry,” he croaks softly, slowing, gently rolling into me, capturing my mouth and thrusting his tongue to match his pace. It’s then I taste the salt in his kiss, as desperate sounds begin to pour out of him. My eyes sting as I try my best to soothe him.

  “Tobias,” I murmur as he lowers his mouth peppering apologetic kisses along my neck.

  “Je t’ai perdue,” I lost you, he rasps out as he lifts his head, the rawness in his gaze grabs hold of me, fisting my heart so tightly I whimper at the loss of the last of the protection I held so dear. This isn’t fucking or making love. It’s the reunification of two souls ripped apart at the peak of discovery. And I know that’s what he feels now as awareness flows between us and we again become one, leaving no trace any space existed.

  We move together effortlessly as he trembles above me, gripping the edge of the mattress and rocking into me with deep thrusts—filling me again and again as he murmurs his love, his devotion, his apologies. I map his chest before running my fingers along his biceps. His eyes no longer search but probe deeper into me, navigating easily to the place inside only he is capable of reaching.