Flock

by Stewart , Kate

  He glances over at me. “And?”

  “And it’s been a while, that’s all.”

  “What happened with the last one?”

  “You first,” I say as he steps over a fallen tree limb and easily lifts me to clear it.

  “My last girl was Bianca. She was manipulative, so it didn’t last long.”

  “Manipulative how?”

  “She wanted to control me. I don’t do well with that. She wanted to manipulate my now, but I found myself trying to escape her more than I wanted to tolerate her. I ended it. Your turn.”

  “He cheated on me in a club bathroom, on my eighteenth birthday.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, he was an asshole. To be fair, I was warned about him. My best friend Christy hated him, but I didn’t listen,” I give him a pointed look. “And I was warned about you too.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I knew I should have gotten you earbuds.”

  “Melinda sure does like to talk.”

  “She only knows what she thinks she knows.”

  A few more steps in and I pause at the sound filtering through the trees. “What is that?”

  “Come on,” he guides me through another clearing of thick brush and around a corner. My jaw drops and my eyes widen when I see a waterfall looming a story above us, behind it sits a hollow cave, if it can be called that. The interior of it is completely visible behind the water, making it more of a nook.

  “Oh my God, I’ve never seen one of these.”

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  In minutes we’re standing behind it, the water flowing into a shallow pool at the bottom. I turn to see Sean setting down his pack, laying out a thick blanket.

  “We’re picnicking behind a waterfall?”

  “Cool, isn’t it?”

  “So awesome.” I step back as he unpacks, refusing my help and eyeing the spread as he pulls out different containers. Cheese and crackers, granola bars, fruit. It’s simplistic, but the gesture alone sets my heart aflutter. He pulls out a few water bottles before stretching out a hand to me. It’s a dream, a living dream, this gorgeous man with sun-drenched skin and luminous eyes, reaching for me, along with the scene surrounding us. Resisting the urge to tackle him, I join him on the blanket a few rocks digging into my butt as I settle in at his side, drinking in the view.

  “This is incredible.”

  “Glad you like it. There are other falls around, but this one is private.”

  “It’s private because we’re trespassing in a state park,” I point out with a grin. “In case you missed the ‘No one past this point’ sign.”

  He shrugs. “Just more imaginary lines.”

  “Like time, huh?”

  “Yeah, like time.” He pushes the sweaty hair away from my forehead. His voice coated in warmth when he speaks. “Happy Birthday, Cecelia.”

  “Thank you. It’s cool you remembered.”

  “You said you had one coming up, and I checked with HR on what the date was.”

  “This is so much better than what I had planned,” I say, breathing in the cool mist drifting from the waterfall. A small cloud of a rainbow shines below on the rocks and I take a mental picture. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

  “What did you have planned?”

  “Reading.” I glance around. “But you sure make that seem like a sad plan.” I gaze over at him and free the question I want answered most. “Are you for real?”

  He frowns, pulling open a container and popping some cheese into his mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…are you really this nice? Are you going to turn into some raging dick in a couple of weeks and ruin all of this?”

  He seems completely unfazed by my question. “Is that what you’re used to?”

  I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Then, I guess it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Yeah,” I lean in, my fingers itching to return the gesture and brush the sweaty blond hair from his forehead.

  “Good.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re talking in riddles again. Are we the secret?”

  He reaches out and pulls me to him, my back to his front and grabs a piece of cheese, offering it to me. I take it and chew, leaning into him, enjoying the view and the feel of him behind me. He’s so attentive, so disarming, so incredibly good at putting me at ease that I loathe the thought he’s anything but the guy he’s shown me to be.

  It’s then I feel his hesitation.

  “Whatever it is, please tell me now. I’m serious. I would rather know.”

  His breath tickles my ear. “I don’t do things the way most people do when it comes to any aspect of life. I follow my gut, my instincts on everything, and answer to very few.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means I belong to myself, Cecelia, at all times. And I choose carefully who to spend my now with. I’m selfish with my time and sometimes, about the things I want.”

  “Okay.”

  “But whatever choices I make, I work with, with little regret, no matter the consequence.”

  “That sounds…dangerous.”

  Another beat of silence.

  “It can be.”

  AFTER OUR PICNIC, WE DOZED off on the blanket. I’m the first to wake on Sean’s chest where he lays now, sprawled out on his back, hands tucked behind his head, eyes closed, breathing deep and even as I quietly pack up the containers and scrape my hands free of debris.

  Cleaning up is the least I could do. It’s been the perfect birthday, though some of his truth stung a little. If I’m interpreting him right, he’s not the boyfriend type, or the commitment type, though his actions in the last few weeks of knowing him have been contradictory. He’s still a mystery even though we’ve spent a good amount of time together. But it’s no longer my need to define us that has me staring down at him in wonder. It’s the ache, the throb, the need to get closer that has me studying the definition of his biceps, the muscular expanse of his chest. My fingers itch at my sides to trace the ring glistening on his lush mouth. It’s my tongue that’s eager to trace the Adam’s apple at his throat. I want him, in the worst fucking way, and I find myself resenting him for the fact that I’m this strung out, while he seems completely at ease.

  I pull off my top, leaving on my sports bra and bring it to the cascading water drenching my shirt before I wipe off the sweat and dirt I collected on our hike. Sean lays content on the blanket as I brush myself down all the while imagining what it would be like to touch him the way I want to, to kiss and be kissed by him.

  He says he’s a man who takes what he wants, who follows his gut with little regret and doesn’t worry about the consequences. I wonder how he would feel if I were to be so bold with my body’s current demand. I resume my seat on the blanket, just watching.

  I’m creepy. Right now, I’m the creepy girl watching him sleep. I turn away, heat flushing my cheeks as I run a hand down my face. We’re completely alone. Did he want it that way? But we’ve been alone before, many times.

  My head says don’t embarrass yourself, but I decide to take his advice. In one swift move, I straddle him, lean down, and tentatively run my tongue along his lip ring.

  His reaction is instant, his hand shoots up and grips the back of my head as he lifts and holds me just an inch away, running his nose along mine, as my breath catches. His eyes penetrate as he drinks in the look on my face, his voice filled with pure lust when he finally speaks. “Took you long enough.” Then his mouth is on mine, his groan filling me as he thrusts his tongue past my lips, kissing me so deep, wetness floods my core. Mouth never leaving mine, he flips us easily, transitioning me so I’m on my back. As he tugs at the button on my shorts, his erection presses into my hip while he slowly pulls down my zipper. Utterly confused by his fast pace and his reaction to my kiss, I open for him, his hot mouth drawing me in. He rips his lip
s away and moves a hand between my shorts and panties, one finger gliding along my clit. Mouth parted, he hypnotizes me with that lone finger, moving it slowly up and down.

  Up and down.

  The pad of his finger alone sends shockwaves throughout my body as he pulls away, and gazes down at me with crippling intensity.

  A loud moan erupts as he keeps his touch feather-light, and I grip his hand, urging him for more, bucking my hips for friction.

  “Please,” I whisper. “Please.”

  “No fucking way, I’m taking my time. You took yours.”

  “I didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”

  “The hell you didn’t. I was letting you make the decision.”

  “You were,” my eyes roll back with the next stroke of his finger, “waiting for me?”

  “I wanted you sure.”

  My body thrums with white-hot desire as I gaze up at him. “I’m sure.”

  He grins as I grip his hand with my fingernails and dig in, urging him on. “Sean, please.”

  Finally, he slips that thick finger underneath my panties and groans when he finds me soaked. I go blind with need and feel my thighs shake as he resumes his ministrations with the same gentle assault. It’s not enough friction, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

  I grip his hair and pull it, and he smirks, his eyes lit with lust, his finger still teasing. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. I thrust my hips and groan in frustration, just before he starts to pull himself away.

  I’m being punished for my impatience.

  Bastard.

  “I’ll stop. I’ll stop. Please don’t.” I give no fucks about begging. It’s been way too long since I’ve been touched, and never in the history of all my nows have I ever been so attracted to a man.

  “Sean…” I whisper as he reads the desire in my eyes before he leans down kissing me deeply, so thoroughly, that emotion stirs within me. In seconds I’m drunk, my need raging out of control as I clutch him to me.

  It’s too much.

  And when I’m blazing under his touch, he finally presses a finger into me, watching intently as my back bows.

  “Goddamn,” he murmurs, before leaning down and sucking my neck before trailing his kiss just below my ear. “Tell me what you want, birthday girl.”

  “I want your mouth.”

  “Where?”

  “On me.”

  “Where on you?”

  “Anywhere.”

  He moves to withdraw his finger.

  “Between my legs. Right now.”

  He lifts, jerking my shorts down and discarding them behind him before spreading my legs. Lowering his head, he licks me smoothly over the silk between my thighs.

  “S-s-Sean!” I stutter out as he teases me, drawing my clit into his mouth through the fabric as I pound on his biceps, my need getting the best of me.

  His eyes dart to mine, an infuriating smirk on his lips. “Is this what you want?”

  “I want your mouth on my pussy, your tongue inside me.”

  Painfully long seconds later, my panties sit somewhere on the rock behind me as he pushes my thighs apart, stroking the skin with his fingers before dipping his head and tasting the whole of me with one swipe of his tongue. I let out a welcoming shriek as he digs in with precise licks, nothing behind them but wicked intent. Writhing on the blanket, I let out an arsenal of curses as he slips a finger in, crooking it along my G. It took me months to figure out how to orgasm alone, practice to pinpoint the parts of my anatomy that set me off, and this man has managed to find them all within mere minutes. Superpower on full display.

  He laps me up, stealing my ability to communicate, my shaking legs draped on either side of his head. Hazel eyes peer up at me as I grip the blanket in my hands and squirm due to the workings of his magic mouth. He licks me furiously as I buck in response, heart hammering, covered in a sheen of sweat. He rubs his fingers along my walls, teasing, torturing, before shoving them into me in beckoning. I explode, convulsing as I lose myself, calling his name as he jackhammers his tongue along my clit. He continues to lick as I shudder until I’m begging for him to stop, too sensitive for any more. And despite my tightening thighs around his head, he sucks my folds into his mouth, taking in every last drop of my orgasm. It’s filthy and perfect, and when he lifts to kiss me, I lick his mouth, sucking his tongue with fervor. I run my hand along the length in his shorts, feeling his reaction. Dipping my hand in, I glide my fingers along his taut stomach and moan when I discover a smear of precum. He wants me just as much, and it shows as I wrap my hand around his impressive length for only a second before he lowers his body, denying me access. Satiated but intent on more, I stare up at him with the longing I feel.

  He shakes his head. “Today is about you.”

  “Trust me. It would be for me. It’s okay to be selfish,” I reply breathlessly.

  He stops the hand I reach for him with and kisses the back of it.

  “Sean, I’m not innocent.”

  He threads our fingers. “No, but you’re more. A lot more.”

  “You truly mean that? Considering what you confessed earlier?”

  “You took that the wrong way.”

  “Meaning what?”

  He peers down at me, cupping my cheek with a warm hand, sliding his thumb along my mouth. “Meaning with you, right now, I’m feeling a little selfish.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It’s a very bad thing.”

  “How so?”

  He drops his head on my stomach and groans.

  My heart blossoms when he lifts his head to peer up at me, and we exchange a look, the rawness in his eyes lets me know I’ve made as much of an impression on him as he has me. In exchange for his silent confession, I give him an ounce of my trust. No more words necessary.

  It’s on the return hike back to his car, where he takes great care to lift me into his hold, stopping me here and there for a kiss, lulling me with deep strokes of his tongue that I know I could fall for Alfred Sean Roberts. And today, a small part of me does.

  Sean: Thinking of you.

  What are you thinking?

  Sean: All kinds of thoughts.

  Care to get specific?

  Sean: You’re beautiful and completely unaware of just how much. And you taste so fucking good.

  What are you doing to me?

  Sean: Not nearly enough. Come to the garage.

  I’ll be there in an hour.

  It’s been days since the waterfall and he’s barely touched me intimately since. He’s wrapped up in me constantly when we’re around the guys but leaves me every night with a chaste kiss, his mixed signals driving me up the wall. It’s as if he’s waiting for…something I can’t put my finger on. But instead of complaining about it, I’ve played along because, honestly, I’m enjoying the ache and anticipation. I’ve never been much of a fast girl, but my attraction to him makes my inhibitions hard to hold. The boys of my past have nothing on this man. Nothing. And these days, when I look at my reflection, I see the noticeable afterglow of the weeks spent draped in his attention. It’s a high I’d almost forgotten about, a high that’s more addictive to me than any drug could ever be. My heart has some scar tissue, but it beats steady, constantly letting me know that playing his game leaves it vulnerable, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear the warning. For now, I’m playing blissfully ignorant, all too ready for another hit.

  “Can you put the phone down while we dine?”

  I tense in my seat, feeling Roman’s stare and shove my phone into my pocket before lifting my fork.

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  “You are clearly distracted this evening.”

  Because I’d much rather be in the now with Sean. I don’t know why Roman insists we dine together. Conversation is forced, our shared meals unbearably uncomfortable, at least for me. It’s hard to gauge what makes Roman uneasy because the man is impenetrable stone. He’s always annoyed, but that seems to be his only discernable emoti
on—if he’s even capable of emotion. The longer I’m in his house, the more like a stranger he feels to me.

  “What were your parents like?”

  I’ve never asked about them before. Not even when I was younger. Even when I had my youth to fall back on for false bravery, I knew better than to ask. They were both deceased, that’s the extent of what both Mom and I know.

  Roman draws a perfect bite of pasta onto his fork. “What specifically do you want to know?”

  “Were they as outgoing as you?”

  His jaw clenches and I congratulate myself but steady my features.

  “They were socialites, and my father kept regular attendance at the golf course.”

  “How did they die?”

  “They drank.”

  “Poison? They go out in a Shakespearean way?”

  “You find death amusing?”

  “No, Sir.” I find this conversation amusing.

  “They died not far apart. Three years. They had me when they were in their forties.”

  “You got a jump on them in that sense, huh?”

  My mother was twenty when she had me, and Roman was older by twelve years. He’d dipped into the honeypot.

  “I never planned for children.”

  I give him jazz hands. “Surprise. It’s a girl.”

  Not even a twitch of a smile.

  “Tough room,” I sip my water. “Sorry about the diapers, couldn’t be helped.” I’m positive the man never changed one of my diapers. Not one.

  “Cecelia, do you plan on behaving this way all night?”

  “One can only hope.” That you don’t destroy my soul with your death glare.

  “So, no parents, no girlfriends. Do you have a friend to hang out with?”

  “I have associates. Plenty of them.”

  “So, what does Roman do to let his hair down?”

  Another side-eye. I’m getting nowhere.

  “Dinner was delicious, but I do have some pressing plans tonight. May I please be excused?”

  He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”