by Alie Garnett
Not wasting the opportunity, he ran a finger over her slick heat, making her moan. Chris loved how responsive she was. He teased her with his fingers as he bit down lightly on her nipple. Grabbing his head, she held him to her breast as her hips ground down on his fingers.
“Please, Chris,” she panted between moans.
With a flick of his thumb over her clit, he felt and heard her suck in a breath as tremors overtook her body. All he could do was continue what he had been doing, making her completely lose control in his arms as tremors turned into spasms each time his thumb circled over her hard bud. He kept going until she jerked under his touch, and her hold on him relaxed as she came with his name on her lips.
Before he could rip his own pants off and sink into her right there on the stairs, Chris grabbed her limp body tight to him and walked up the remaining steps to the second floor. Getting inside her was all he could think about, to make her come while he was inside her.
The room he’d been sleeping in was well over ten feet down the hallway, but Agatha’s was right there. So nice and close, and after how many times he had fantasized about being in there, he wanted to make it a reality.
He didn’t take the time to look around Agatha’s room, just set her in the middle of the brown bedspread, dislodging a pile of folded laundry in the process, sending the stack to floor. Her arms were around him, and she held him for half a moment longer than necessary before they flopped down above her head.
Unrestrained, he started kissing down her body again, this time with the ability to look and touch every inch of creamy bare skin he wanted to—which was all of it.
His cock was throbbing under his jeans, demanding attention. As if Agatha herself could hear it, she sat up, and her hands reached for the button on his jeans. Her hands slipped over his stomach, but he arched away.
His need to have her fingers on his cock was strong, but he realized he wasn’t ready for them to be done yet. For the first time in his life, he felt that what they were doing wasn’t sex; it was something more. Something to savor, something not to be rushed.
Grabbing her arms, he pulled them above her head and leaned down to kiss her. Those kissable lips had been on his mind since the first day he had seen her. Now they were his to explore, to taste.
Letting go of her hands, he touched her nose with his and whispered, “Leave them.”
Her only response was a whimper, but they stayed above her head, buried below the dozen pillows leaning against her headboard.
“I want to savor you, starting at this scar that I want to know all about.” He kissed the faint mark that was almost always hidden by her dark bangs. Then his hand ran down her leg until it grabbed a pair of socks that had managed to stay on the bed when all the other clothes were gone. “To these crazy sexy fuzzy socks.”
Single-handedly, he pulled the socks apart and tossed one on the floor. He ran the other sock up her leg, the softness lightly grazing her body. He trailed it from her thigh, skimming the dark hair that covered her sex. Her whimpering started in earnest as he slipped past to her flat stomach. Circling her belly button, he watched her bite down on her lower lip, hard.
Kissing her until she released the lip from her teeth, he slipped the sock back over her core and swallowed the whimper that escaped her. Pulling away when her lips were safe from damage, he watched her nearly black eyes as the sock slid over her hard nipples over and over again, not breaking eye contact as her fisted hands crushed a small pillow to the top of her head, the only outward sign that he was having any effect on her.
Running the sock over her chest and neck, she crushed the pillow under her fingers. Then he slipped it over her face, brushing her lips, then kissing the lips, then again with the sock, kiss, sock. Until she whimpered again.
Every whimper caused his cock to strain more and more painfully against his jeans. As much as he was torturing her, he was doing worse to himself. Not that he cared; he loved every one of those whimpers.
Running the sock over her forehead, he asked, “How did you get this scar?”
Her voice was husky as she watched the sock brush her skin. “Harper, toaster, fourteen.”
Another sweep. “Your sister threw a toaster at you when you were fourteen?”
Her only answer was another whimper as the sock disappeared from the scar and reappeared again on her breasts, only to run over her nipple, down her stomach, and over her core again. He ran it down her left thigh, all without breaking eye contact. “What about this one?”
Her only answer was to shake her head, the pillow moving with it since it was pressed so tightly to it.
“You don’t know, or you are not telling?”
He dropped the sock and ran his bare finger over the inch-long white mark. The touch was so soft and delicate, as if he was concerned with hurting her. A whimper went through her again.
Her voice was shaky as her leg moved, trying to get his finger to touch her where she wanted him. “A guy I was with thought I was into pain.”
Shimmying down the bed, he slipped between her legs, and all his attention went back to the scar. He hated that it represented a man who hurt her, that there was something marring her body that someone had intentionally put there.
Suddenly, it dawned on him that he had once been just like the guy, doing what he wanted to do and not carrying about the woman he was doing it with. The mark on Agatha was a reminder of who he had been and who he never wanted to be again. A part of him he never wanted Agatha to even see.
“Never again, Agatha. Never again will I let anyone do that to you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He looked into her eyes and promised.
Leaning down, he kissed the mark, then licked it before kissing it again, making it his own and taking away any thought of anyone else with her. He hated that anyone had been with her before him
Running his tongue over the mark, he let it slip further up as her whimpers grew louder until she was begging with his name on her lips. Unable to deny her any longer, he ran his fingers through her wetness a moment before his tongue, teeth, and mouth followed.
Begging and pleading instantly turned to moans and tremors, the same as she had on the stairs. Except this time, he could watch her face. As she got closer, her head started to toss back and forth, and her fingers gripped the pillow.
After only just one time with this woman, he knew when she was close. Her entire body started to shake, and her knees clamped around his head.
Sucking her into his mouth, he slipped a finger into her core. Her body jerked as she let out a scream, and the pillow above her head exploded into a cloud of white fluff.
As her body pulsed, he watched her head shaking back and forth as her hands clenched at the bedspread. With speed he didn’t know he still possessed, he wrenched his pants and underwear off. With only enough sense to grab his wallet from the jeans before they hit the floor, he pulled out a condom.
After rolling it on, he watched her open her eyes and then slid into her. With her eyes suddenly open and on him, he leaned down and kissed her deeply. He kissed her until he couldn’t be still any longer.
Then he started to slowly pump into her. Each thrust was met by a throaty sigh until they turned into gasps when he couldn’t go slow anymore. He needed to feel her come around him. With his hands on her hips, he thrust into her faster and harder.
Her legs wrapped around him, and he could feel her tremor, knowing she was getting close. With all his concentration on her coming, he forgot his own needs for a moment until her body started to quake and grip his cock, causing him to come instantly.
Sated, he rolled to the side so that he wouldn’t crush her. Then he rolled until he was on his back, and he wrapped his arms around her damp body, loving how perfectly she fit with his.
She rested her head on his chest, and with one hand on her back and the other on her ass, he made sure she stayed. Not that either was moving after that. They laid there for a long time before she gave a little shiver and sat up.
“What is this?”
Chris smiled at her. She didn’t even realize the pillow had been sacrificed during their love-making. He hoped it wasn’t special.
“You ripped apart a pillow.” He wiped some of the fluff off her chest. Her nipples instantly hardened at his attention.
“I wouldn’t do that,” she argued.
“Then it snowed in here.”
“Don’t be silly. What happened?”
“I wish there was a recording so that I could show you. A replay.”
“Replay.” Shaking her head, she sat up and brushed some fluff from her arms.
He rolled her over and pinned her to the bed. “I guess I’ll have to do it again.”
“You can’t,” she said with a smirk.
“I will.” He promised and brought her hands over her head.
Agatha sighed. “Good luck. I’m spent.”
Looking around, he found the sock and held it up. “We can start with the sock.”
She whimpered, and he knew he definitely could make her come again. Apparently, his cock was on the same page.
“You remember this sock, right?” he asked and ran the sock again over her core, which caused her hips to jerk and for her to say his name as if he had been doing it for hours already.
“Say you remember, Agatha.” He held the sock inches above her body. Her hands plucked another pillow from the pile and it was already firmly pressed to her head, this one smaller and harder to misshape.
“I remember,” she said so breathlessly he barely heard it.
“Say you remember the sock making you break your pillow,” he said, running the sock over her core again. “Or do I have to make you come again?”
With a jerk of her hips, she hissed, “Come again. Please, Chris, now.”
At her sweet words, he couldn’t tell her no. He couldn’t even think of why he would want to. He positioned himself above her only to realize that he didn’t have another condom.
“I don’t have a condom.” He sat back on his heels. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would not wear a condom, no matter how drunk he was with a woman. So sober, he couldn’t do it either. Even with Agatha.
Below him, Agatha threw the pillow against the wall and shimmied away from him. Pushing pillows as the went, she opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a string of condoms.
She ripped open a packet and walked back to him on her knees. Pushing him back on his back, she rolled it on him and climbed on after. Slipping into her hot core was just as great as the last time, except this time she was in charge. All he had to do was lay there and let her do all the work.
Her body was instantly shaking, her hands on his chest as her nails bit into his skin. But still, he couldn’t stop from coming when her body clamped around his.
Afterward, she lay on his chest as they tried to catch their breaths. She just lay there with her head on his chest.
Without picking up her head, she whispered, “I might have ruined a pillow.”
Squeezing her butt cheek, he said, “I told you so.”
Feeling her laugh was the last thing he felt until morning. Or until sometime in the night when he pulled the comforter around them. Even then, she didn’t stir. He didn’t even care that they were completely covered in pillow fluff. Morning would be soon enough to get that off in a nice hot shower. He just hoped she would join him.
Chapter Nineteen
Walking into her lawyer’s office, Agatha realized she had only been here about three times. Most of their communications were over the phone or by letter. Though to be fair, she hadn’t needed to renegotiate her contract with the publisher and had only needed her lawyer to draw up the paperwork for the purchase of the house.
Stopping at the reception desk, she said, “Christie Lovely to see Aspen Andrews.”
“Take a seat,” the woman replied, and Agatha took her chair. In this office, she was Christie again. It wasn’t a persona she felt comfortable with anymore.
Becoming Chris’s lover hadn’t changed that; she was still a different person than she had been in high school. No matter who Chris was today, he was still the boy who showed her how cruel people can be. She could never become that naïve again.
“Nice to see you again, Christie,” Aspen said, walking into the waiting room. “The seller is already here and waiting. I really didn’t think they would want to meet you. It’s very unusual.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Agatha said. The knowledge that her dad was here and that she would see him for the first time in years was overwhelming.
“Okay, right in here.” Aspen opened the door and Agatha’s eyes went to the seller. But it wasn’t her father sitting there, it was her mother. Not her real one, but Sera.
“Hello, Agatha Christie. I didn’t really think I would see you this morning,” Sera said, a red folder in front of her. The woman always color coded her files. Was red for anger or love? Agatha couldn’t decide.
“I got the impression you two didn’t know each other,” Aspen said and took a chair with a manila folder on the table. “Mrs. Dean is the seller.”
“Sit down, Agatha. Let’s talk.” Sera tapped the chair closest to her.
“Okay.” Agatha couldn’t think of anything more to say. This was not how today was supposed to go. Her dad was supposed to be a no-show, and then she would sign the papers. Now she had to talk to Sera.
“So, you want to buy my house. Why?” Sera said once Agatha’s butt hit the chair.
“I didn’t want to lose it when Dad died. I wanted to make sure that we never lost the house,” she explained. Though she’d had the same thoughts since she was a teenager, she could now finally do it. In fact, it was the first thing she thought about buying when she started to make money. Everything else had taken a back seat.
“That’s why I had your dad sign it over to me before Harper graduated.” Sera pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” Agatha said. “You can keep the house. I just didn’t want Dad to have it anymore.” She hugged her mom, who was a decade ahead of her in planning.
“Hormones.” Sera returned the hug even more tightly than Agatha. “But I want you to have it. It’s your and your sisters’ house, not mine.”
“Maybe we should talk to the girls about it,” Agatha admitted. Now that it wasn’t going to be sold to someone else, they had time for that.
Sera pushed her away. “No, they all have husbands who can buy them anything they want. I want you to have it.”
“So, are we going forward with the sale?” Aspen opened her folder. “The purchase price was agreed on as $300,000. Is that correct?”
“Yes, I know it’s lower than what it’s worth, but I was hoping Dad wouldn’t care.” Agatha shrugged.
“He didn’t. Do you have that kind of money, Agatha?” Sera looked at her.
“Yes.”
“How? None of your jobs have paid more than starvation wages. And I don’t think you’ve been working in months.”
“I sold some of my art this year,” Agatha finally admitted.
“Enough to hire a lawyer who isn’t Harrison? And to buy a house? How much did you sell? All of it?” Sera demanded.
Agatha shrugged. “A few of the books I wrote for Violet. I found a publisher, and they liked them.”
Yes, she should have told Sera when it happened, and right now, she wished she had, but it was never the right time. There had been a lot going on when she actually got the call; the family had other things happening. Or maybe she just let everyone else have happiness before herself. Because everyone would be happy for her and proud of her, but she hadn’t allowed them to. Instead, she hadn’t let them support her like she always did them.
“You’ve been hiding it from me for a year?” Sera was on the verge of tears, not that she wasn’t always lately. But when her chin
quivered, Agatha still felt awful about not telling her right away.
“It wasn’t the entire year, just months, really. Besides, you were busy falling in love, getting married, then getting everyone else married or pregnant. That’s a lot happening in a few short months. You haven’t noticed much about me lately,” Agatha said.
“I have too. You aren’t the same person you used to be. You quit acting out, which I liked. You started eating and not looking dead, I liked that. You began being the kid you used to be when I met you, I liked that. I thought that if I said something, you would go back to being angsty Agatha. That’s why I don’t want you near Chris.” Sera pushed Agatha’s hair behind her ear as a tear fell down her cheek.
“I’m not going to fall for Chris again, Sera. I’m smarter than that now.” Agatha hoped that would be true.
“Love doesn’t care about how smart you are. Be careful,” Sera whispered, wiping away another tear.
“I am. I don’t let anyone into my heart, Sera. Ever,” Agatha stated firmly.
Instantly, Agatha knew she had said the wrong thing when Sera drew in a sharp breath. Sera wanted her to find love, but not with Chris. Except Agatha was beginning to fear that her heart was only meant for Chris. It didn’t matter how he treated it; it was his.
“I want you to, but not with him. Not again.” Sera leaned in and hugged her tight, too tight.
“It’s just fun. He will leave once his house is done, and then I’ll get to say I’m completely over him.” Agatha grinned and accepted the hug as she tried not to think about Chris leaving her again. But he didn’t belong to her, and he never would. The past had shown her that, and they were not even a couple now. Whatever they were wasn’t permanent.
Sera hugged her one more time and turned to Aspen. “I had my lawyer draw up paperwork for the sale. Everything is the same, except I changed the selling price to five dollars. The house was never mine; I was just holding it for the girls. Now one of them needs it, so it will be hers.”
Aspen grabbed the paper and looked it over. She let Agatha sign, and by the time it was over, Agatha owned the big house she loved. Though her sisters would always be welcome and could move back in whenever they wanted to, Agatha would know they had a place to land when needed.