PMU Boxset 2

by MacMillan, Jerica

  “But?” Daniel prompted.

  Her eyes met his, gathering tears making her brown eyes shimmer in the afternoon light coming through the window in the living room. “But he’s not the same. At all. I spent my summer driving my mom and my brother between home, the hospital, and the rehab center. My mom took him to all of his appointments after he came back home. And I had to contact all his clients and cancel contracts or take over the ones I could.”

  “What kind of contracts?”

  “He does web design and consulting on web marketing and conversion. I helped him in high school, so I offered the web design clients the option of cancelling or having me do it. But the consulting work isn’t something I know enough to do. My mom’s a teacher, so she was off work anyway, and she’s going to take as much family leave as she can before she has to go back.” She sat up straighter, running her fingers under her eyes where a couple of tears had escaped. “Anyway, that’s my awful summer for you. I had to tell so many people about what was going on. Between my dad’s clients, and helping my mom update extended family and friends, it was just too much. I basically stayed away from social media and only talked to Hannah all summer. I couldn’t handle either telling everyone all the shitty things my family was dealing with or pretending everything was fine. And you got caught in that, so, again, I’m sorry. I know it’s super cliché, but it wasn’t you. It was me.”

  Daniel smiled. “It’s alright. I get it. I’m glad you’re talking to me now.” She gave him a small smile in return but didn’t say anything else. The silence stretched between them, her avoiding his gaze again, him staring at her, taking in the line of her jaw, the expanse of smooth skin bared from the low scoop neck of her top. He shifted, feeling awkward, like he should say something. “At least the accident didn’t kill him, though, right?” Her eyes snapped to his. Had he said something wrong? “I mean, that’s something, isn’t it?”

  Her gaze softened, but the sadness that hadn’t left her face seemed to be tempered by something else, and he wasn’t sure what. “Yeah,” she said, almost whispering. “That’s something.”

  That wasn’t quite the response he’d been looking for. Something didn’t sound very comforting the way she said it. But words weren’t his strong suit. He was a math major. He knew numbers and angles, and he knew working hard in the weight room and on the football field. When he was frustrated with something, he dealt with it there or by playing video games with his friends.

  Actually, with that in mind, maybe a distraction was what she needed most. It didn’t sound like she’d had much opportunity to escape the awfulness of dealing with everything over the summer.

  He stood. “C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”

  She looked up at him, her brows drawn together, but curiosity in her eyes. “What?”

  Holding out a hand, he tilted his head toward the couch. “I’ll show you.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, then put her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up to standing. Her grip was firm, and he enjoyed the brief contact as he led her to the couch. She sat down while he went over to the consoles, trying to decide which game would be best. Shuffling a few options in his hands, he glanced back at her. “Do you play much?”

  A low chuckle escaped, and the sound made him glad. He wanted to cheer her up, and it seemed to be working already. She shook her head. “Not really. I used to play with my little brother when we were younger, but it’s been years.”

  With a nod, he picked out Mario Kart and unravelled controllers. Coop was always ultra competitive when they played, but his plan with Elena was a friendly game, just for fun. She smirked at him when he handed her the controller, but didn’t object.

  “I usually go for the first person shooter games when I’m trying to blow off steam, but those are harder to get the hang of.” He sat, and the old, thrift-store-issue couch sank in the middle so that she leaned toward him. Instead of shifting away like he’d expected, she rested against him, their arms pressed comfortably together. That wouldn’t last long once the game started, but he’d enjoy it while it lasted. Every time her skin touched his, memories of their all-too-brief fling in Westport flitted through his mind—his hand sliding down her back, her face when he went down on her the first time, the naughty smile she gave him right before yanking his shorts down and returning the favor.

  He shifted, trying to think of something else. While repeating all those things sounded like a great idea to him, she wasn’t here for that. And he wasn’t enough of an asshole to try to turn things that way, not after she’d spilled all the shitty details of her summer. No, he knew they wouldn’t go there today. He wouldn’t rule out an opportunity in the future, but right now she needed a friend, not some guy trying to get in her pants. And he was determined to be that friend.

  “Are you going to start the game?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He focused his attention on the TV in front of him, his fingers manipulating the controller in his hand to start the game, trying to will the chub in his shorts to go down, glad that at least it wouldn’t be too obvious while he was sitting.

  Soon they were both involved in the game, throwing their whole bodies into turns, elbowing each other on accident, then on purpose, laughing and dueling for position. Since he was bigger and heavier, he won more often than not, but Elena knew how to use her sharp little elbows to her advantage, probably the result of growing up with a younger brother. He didn’t have a sister, but he had friends who did, and some of their older sisters were just as rough as he was on his little brother. Clearly Elena fell into that category of older sister.

  After one elbow contest where Elena was losing, both with her elbow, and her narrow lead on screen, she hopped up and sat on his lap, knocking the controller out of his hands, making his character veer off course and crash. She braced her feet on the coffee table, pushing back to smash him as far into the couch as she could, pushing the coffee table away as she did so.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he caught her before she could fall off his lap, trapping her against his chest, pulling her back, and rolling sideways so he pinned her on the couch. She laughed, squirming under him, and tossed aside the controller, blowing out a breath to try to dislodge the ends of her ponytail caught in her mouth.

  She slapped his tricep lightly. “Move your arm! I can’t believe you made me crash!”

  He laughed, moving his arm, but brushing the hair off her face before she could. Her laughter died, and she stilled under him, as though she suddenly realized he had her pinned.

  His breath caught at the look on her face, equal parts memory and desire as her eyes flitted over his features and settled on his lips. “You made me crash first.”

  Her eyes went back to his, and her smile was dazzling, finally reaching her eyes and driving out the perpetual sadness. “I was just trying to win.”

  Now his gaze settled on her lips, lush and red, still smiling, though less widely now. He remembered the taste of those lips. Had been wanting to taste them again ever since they parted ways.

  Slowly he lowered his head to hers, giving her plenty of time to turn away if she wanted. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance, fastening her mouth to his, her tongue plunging into his mouth. That was all the invitation he needed, and he took control of the kiss, sucking on her tongue and sliding his along it, forcing her to retreat so he could take her mouth, his hands bracing her head, holding her still to taste her as thoroughly as he’d been hoping to since Megan had dangled the prospect of seeing her again in front of him.

  Her hands drifted to his waist, finding the hem of his shirt, and running up underneath it, skating along his ribs. He shivered under her touch, his muscles jumping, but he didn’t slow his assault on her mouth. When she pressed her hips up to make firm contact with his, he groaned. With her hands now gripping his ass, she rubbed herself against him, and he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against hers.

  And there was that naughty smile that he’d gotten to know. God, he did
n’t know if he’d ever get enough of that look. Her hips dropped, and her hand came around to cup him through his shorts, rubbing up and down his cock. He thrust into her hand, unable to help himself.

  Sitting back on his heels, he gripped her upper arms to pull her up to sitting and stripped her shirt off. Before he’d even dropped the shirt on the floor next to the couch, she’d already reached behind her and unhooked her bra, her perfect breasts spilling free. He reached for them, the lighter tan skin showing between his dark brown fingers an even greater contrast than the more bronze skin of her arms and legs. She sucked in a breath when his thumbs rubbed over her nipples, bringing them to attention. Leaning over, he tongued one nipple before closing his lips over it, making it even harder, then giving the same attention to its twin.

  She gave herself to his hands and mouth, but as soon as he started to sit up, her hands were gripping his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. With a gleam in her eyes, she licked her lips, tossing his shirt carelessly over her shoulder. Oh yeah. This was the Elena he remembered. This was going to be fun.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Elena hadn’t intended to have sex with Daniel when she came over to his apartment today, but once he had her pinned on the couch, she couldn’t remember why she’d decided that sex with him was a bad idea. His kiss, the way he’d hesitated to make sure she wanted it, and how he’d taken over, holding her in place to take what he was giving, pushed all other thoughts out of her brain. All she could think about was getting him naked, feeling his skin against hers, his powerful body surrounding hers, inside hers, driving out all the sadness and guilt and every other thing that she was so tired of feeling. Maybe she could lose herself in him, let him fuck it all out of her. She didn’t think it would actually work, but with his hands all over her, maybe it was worth a shot.

  Not wanting to wait for him, unashamed of her desire, she reached for him. Going up on her knees, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his mouth to hers once more, running her hands over his shoulders, down his pecs and over his abs until she reached his waistband. She popped the button and yanked the zipper apart so she could reach in and grip his cock where it lay at an angle against his lower belly, trapped against him by the tight cotton of his boxer briefs. God, that cock.

  She’d never thought size mattered all that much. She’d been with enough guys, and some of the bigger ones were the worst. But she’d never been with anyone as big as Daniel who also knew how to use it. Dios mío. I can’t wait to feel that again. The two times they’d slept together, she’d been deliciously sore for days after, with the second time riding so close on the heels of the first that she hadn’t fully recovered. She hadn’t cared, though. The way he’d taken care of her, leaving her boneless and sated with multiple orgasms, getting her brain to shut off and focus only on what he made her feel. That never happened. Ever. She’d welcomed him the next day with as much enthusiasm, despite the lingering tenderness, eager to feel that good again.

  Why hadn’t she thought of it before now? This was exactly what she needed. Someone to make her forget, make her not feel anything but this. She didn’t have the luxury of shutting down with alcohol, needing to be able to function, drive, work, go to classes. And alcohol just made her maudlin and weepy anyway. She wanted to not feel. Or have her feelings so overwhelmed with one thing that the others fell away, disregarded.

  And like that, with her hand stroking his beautiful cock, Daniel took over, wrapping her ponytail around his fist, pulling her head back, holding her in place while he kissed, nipped, and sucked his way down her neck, over her collarbone, until he reached her breasts again. He pulled her hand out of his pants, laying her back, pinning her hand behind her, arching her back to present her breasts to him even better. He sucked hard at each nipple, rolling over them with his tongue, pressing his teeth against them until she gasped, the tiny bite of pain zinging straight to her clit.

  As he worked his way down her torso, he released her hair and her hand, letting her lay flat, the fabric of the couch rough against her skin. He made quick work of her shorts, undoing them and hooking his fingers in the waist, yanking them off along with her thong in one swift motion. And then he spread her legs, his large hands holding her thighs up and back toward her chest as he left love bites on the tender skin there before kissing his way to her center where he flattened his tongue, licking her softly, his signature contrast of rough and gentle. He draped her legs over his shoulders, his hands going under her ass to hold her up for him to feast on, fucking her with his tongue first, then gliding up to run his tongue over her clit before sucking hard. Letting up before she came too fast, he lowered her back to the couch, lifting his head to give her a wicked grin, his face glistening with her juices. One finger slid inside her, finding her G-spot with ease, and she closed her eyes at the sensation, her hips bucking enough that he held her down with his other hand. A second finger joined the first, stretching her.

  “How long has it been for you?”

  His breath blew warm across her skin with the question, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “Not since Westport. Not since you.”

  “Good.” That wicked grin came back, a satisfied tone in his voice that sounded like possessiveness, but she dismissed that thought immediately. She wasn’t here for a relationship, just a great fuck to push everything else away. He moved his fingers, spreading them apart to open her further, his tongue finding her clit again, getting her ready to take him. With his lips wrapped around her clit, he pumped his fingers into her harder, tapping her G-spot each time, ramping up the intensity so far that she thought she would explode, all her attention focused on the coiling tension in her lower belly and spreading through the rest of her body. And then it happened, the tension breaking, and she shattered into a million pieces, a sound wrenched from her that was half gasp, half shout.

  He pumped his fingers in and out a few more times, making her twitch and shudder, unable to control her limbs. Withdrawing his hand, he stood, his eyes burning into hers as he pulled a condom out of his wallet before pushing down his shorts and rolling it on. All that long, lean muscle, that hard, gorgeous cock, all for her. She ran a hand over his thigh, relishing in the feel of the wiry hair, silky skin, and hard muscle. He caught her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and placing a kiss on the palm. Climbing back onto the couch, his knees pushed her thighs apart to make enough room for him. In response she hooked one leg over his hip, her other trapped between him and the back of the couch.

  His eyes zeroed in on her pussy as he ran the head of his cock all over her, and she twitched when he teased her clit, still super sensitive from her recent orgasm. He glanced up at her, his lips curved in a smile at her reaction as he teased himself into her entrance, barely dipping in and out a few times until she wiggled her hips in an attempt to drive him in deeper.

  He chuckled. “Ready?”

  “God, por favor, yes.”

  Before she got the last word out, he’d braced one hand on the arm of the couch behind her head and pushed in a few inches. Withdrawing slightly, he pressed forward again. On the next thrust, Elena raised her hips to meet his, forcing him all the way in faster than he’d intended, savoring the intense feel of him filling her, though he’d done a good job getting her ready for him. His eyes widened, the whites visible all the way around his warm brown irises.

  She smiled, her hands running over the hard ridges of muscle wrapped around his torso, sliding along the columns on either side of his spine and down to his firm ass, grabbing two handfuls and pressing him against her. He held still, staring down into her eyes as she ground her pelvis up against his, moving back an inch or so before repeating the action.

  He let out a low groan, shifting so that he came down more on top of her, her breasts rubbing against his chest as his forearms came under her shoulders, holding her to him with his cheek against hers. “Sweet Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy. You’re killing me.”

  She pressed her hips up again, but this time had less r
oom to move, his adjustment pressing her farther into the couch. “Daniel, I need you to fuck me.”

  Another low groan came out of him, and he nuzzled her ear. “In a minute.” He took a shuddering breath. “I need a minute or this is going to be over way too fast for either of us.”

  She kept up her slow pace of pressing her hips up against his, wanting to feel that delicious friction, not wanting to wait even the minute he said he needed. She needed him, needed this, now. Needed this to go on for as long as possible, but without pauses. Pauses allowed her brain to turn back on. And being cradled against him like this felt more intimate than what she’d expected. She didn’t want intimacy. She wanted hard, impersonal fucking.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of her little shifts and squeezes, he withdrew, slamming into her again with enough force to drive the breath out of her. “Yes. Yes. Like that,” she gasped.

  He did it again. And again. Slowly picking up the pace, lifting his head to look down at her. One hand went to her hips, holding her still, forcing her to take everything he gave her, but his eyes locked on hers was too much. Arching against him, she let her head turn to the side, her eyes falling closed, focusing more on the feelings coursing through her body, emptying herself of all the cares and fears and things she didn’t want to feel anymore, each thrust pushing them further away.

  She wrapped her legs around him, and he held her, pounding into her, a little upward tilt on the end of each thrust, one hand supporting her ass, the other spread across her pelvis, his thumb dipping between them. Rubbing as he pulled back and grinding into her clit on the down stroke. The angle of her body combined with the friction from his thumb and the complete overwhelm of her senses, and she came again, shuddering and thrashing. His hands held her lower body steady, allowing him to keep going, forcing her orgasm to continue long after it normally would’ve stopped.