by Max Monroe
Did I mention I was proud of her?
Was that fucked up? I didn’t mean for it to be. I was just happy to see her owning it—being proud of herself and her own choices instead of feeling like she had to answer for them. I wanted to yell out some kind of cry for all of the empowered females, but I thought that might seem suspicious.
So, I went with the only other thing I could think of.
“Okay. Cool.”
Eloquent, right?
“Okayyyy,” she repeated, adorably confused by my non-response. “Cool.”
I’m sure she’d been expecting the usual questions.
How’d you manage that?
or
Are you, like, super religious?
or
What the hell are you waiting for?
As her lover, I had a right to know she’d never taken a sexual encounter to that level before, a warning of sorts to make sure I didn’t make an assumption that affected both of us. But really, the rest of it was her business and hers alone. Sharing was a staple of every healthy relationship, but she got to be the creator of the terms and conditions under which said sharing happened.
“Kline?” she called, pulling out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, baby?”
“You don’t have any questions? Or…I don’t know. You’re so quiet.”
I was being quiet. Obviously, it was doing nothing but torturing her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?” She raised a brow and I laughed.
“Okay, fair enough. I don’t know what you’re thinking. But I’m thinking you’re a fucking brilliant, beautiful woman with the most delicious pussy I’ve ever tasted. I’ll be lucky as fuck if you decide you wanna share more of it with me. But I don’t fucking expect it, and I’ve done nothing to earn it. I’m guessing none of the other fuckers in New York ever did, and I don’t mind one fucking bit.”
“That was a lot of ‘fucks,’ Mr. Brooks.”
I laughed and forced the tension in my shoulders to release. “I know. You got me all worked up. Thatch is usually the only one that can get me to utilize that many fucks in one thought process.”
Her laughter rolled through me like a wave.
“God, Thatch. I hear all sorts of lore about that guy, but the only actual interaction I’ve had with him was when you called me on the plane.”
“There’s Thatch lore?” I asked, mystified and horrified all at once.
“Oh yeahhh.” She laughed. “But most of it is from Dean, so I’ve taken any and all information with a very large grain of salt.”
I laughed.
“Like, rock salt.”
I shook my head, knowing Dean usually had a pretty good bead on the reality of things despite his juicy delivery.
“Ehhh. You can probably stick to the regular iodized kind. Thatch is a crazy asshole. Fun, though. And, occasionally, a good friend.”
“Is he really that crazy?” she asked, insistent in the belief that he couldn’t be as rowdy as people described.
As always with Thatch, examples of his depravity were plentiful, but one stood out above the rest.
“You know the scar on my abdomen?” I asked. “Lower right side?”
I glanced over in time to see her nod, eyes brimming with biblical knowledge. “It’s completely plausible I’ve noticed it.”
A smile arrested my features.
“Well, I owe its existence to Thatch and one of his half-baked ideas.”
Waiting for an explanation, she settled farther into her seat.
“One night during our freshman year of college, he got this idea that stair surfing on our mattresses on the icy courtyard steps could be the next big campus activity. Three broken fingers, one bloody nose, and a tree-branch-impaled abdominal muscle later, I decided I didn’t want to be a part of the sales pitch.”
“You could have said no from the beginning,” she suggested and I shrugged.
“What fun would that have been?”
I flipped on my blinker and turned into the long gravel drive of the Hamptons house. This had been the quickest drive of my life with Georgia keeping me company, and the salty sea air clung to my skin as I rolled my window down to put in the code for the gate. The stars were brighter now that we’d left the city behind, and when I turned to look at Georgie, I found her head hanging out of her window with her face to the sky like she’d noticed.
“Georgie?” I called, fighting back a grin.
“This place is outrageous!” she all but shouted. “Have you seen the fucking sky? And the length of this driveway?”
I shook my head and laughed some more, pulling forward cautiously so she could stay in her happy place half in, half out of the car.
“I might have noticed it a time or two.”
She sank back into the seat and shook her hair out of her smiling face.
“You should notice more. Like, a lot more. You know, every weekend or so. Andddd, if you just happen to want some company,” she said, feigning nonchalance, “I could probably fit it into my schedule. I mean, I’d be willing to check.”
“I’ll make note.”
“Holy hell! Look at that house! It’s adorable!”
I followed her eyes through the windshield, smiling so much my cheeks started to ache. The little bungalow wasn’t ostentatious, but it didn’t lack space either, and the wood-shank shingle siding had seen better days. The inside pretty much matched, but I was working on fixing it. Slowly but surely.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She bounced in her seat.
“But you probably shouldn’t like it too much. I’m fixing it up to give it to my parents, and I’ll start to feel bad if you get too attached.”
“Really? You’re doing the work yourself?” If she had been a dog, I imagined her ears would have perked up.
I smiled and nodded. “Really. I had an electrician work on the wiring and Thatch and Wes have helped me a couple of times with the heavy lifting, but I’ve done most of it myself.”
She slammed an open hand down on my thigh and squeezed, her expression deadpan.
“I think I just orgasmed.”
I shoved the gearshift into park and reached for her neck at the same time. I rubbed my nose with hers and smiled before touching my lips to hers just once. “Please, Benny. For the love of all that’s holy, hold on to that thought—and the easy trigger.”
Bags inside the house, a quick dinner of sandwiches I’d picked up from Tony’s deli and packed to bring along consumed, and wine in hand, Georgia demanded a tour of the house.
“I want to know every detail. What it looked like when you started, what you’re in the middle of now, and what you see it being like when you’re done. Don’t cut corners, Brooks,” she’d said.
“I intend to travel each and every curve in its entirety,” I’d teased back salaciously.
She’d just laughed and shoved me down the hall we were currently walking.
She’d seen the completely redone kitchen, the room I’d tackled first. I’d known it would be an outrageously extensive job, as well as the heart of the house. Crisp white cabinets, light stone counters, and dark wood floors, I’d kept the character of the house but added a ton of modern twists and convenience.
“God, Kline. I still can’t get over that island! It’s freaking enormous.”
“I know.”
Twelve feet by twelve feet, it was nearly enough room to use as an elevated dance floor. Part of me worried that it was too much, but my reasoning was sound. Maureen and Bob Brooks lived their lives in the kitchen, hip to hip or one or the other relaxing at the counter while the other one cooked. I swore ninety-five percent of my childhood memories happened in that room.
“It’s perfect, though. Like the epicenter of the house.”
My chest tightened with an unexpected surge of pride and accomplishment. The fact that she understood made me feel validated in a way I hadn’t even known I’d
needed. I turned quickly, grabbing her hips and slamming her surprised and open lips to mine.
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
I almost couldn’t handle the feeling of her answering smile.
“Watch your step,” I advised as we stepped into one of the completely unrenovated bedrooms. The original wainscoting was the only thing I really wanted to keep, and it was acting more like a temporary storage room for supplies than a bedroom at the moment.
“This place is amazing,” Georgie remarked in wonder. “It’s almost like a time capsule.”
“I know. It’s nearly a hundred years old. Which was really fucking intimidating when I first started doing the work.”
“I bet.”
“Come on. Let me show you upstairs real quick and then we can watch a movie. I’m ready to cuddle.”
“Kline Brooks, a cuddler?”
“Born, bred, and proud of it, baby.”
She pursed her lips, scrunched her nose, and shook her head—Georgia’s look of trying to figure something out.
“You almost never say what I’m expecting you to, you know that?”
I shrugged and nuzzled my face into her neck before touching my lips to the shell of her ear.
“Fine by me. As long as what I actually say is better.”
She shivered and then touched her lips to my cheek. Sauntering toward the door, she looked over her shoulder as soon as her small body lined up with the frame. “You haven’t failed me yet.”
I slowly opened my eyes as Kline lifted me off the couch, cradling me close to his chest. I must’ve fallen asleep halfway through the movie. Only two glasses of wine deep, I hadn’t been drunk, just a delicious mix of relaxed and sleepy—sated from resting by the fire and cozy from being wrapped up in his arms.
His eyes met mine as we moved down the hall, toward the bedroom. “I figured you’d want to be somewhere a little more comfortable than the couch.” He gently set me on the mattress, pulling the covers back and tucking me in. After a soft kiss to my forehead, he whispered, “Go back to sleep, baby.”
I watched him move around the bedroom—charging his phone, sliding off his jeans, shrugging out of his shirt, and turning off the lights. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to how amazing Kline looked in just his boxer briefs. It should have been an offense to let a man who looked like that walk around without clothes. But I wasn’t complaining.
If he is a crime, then by God, get the handcuffs ready, because there is no way I can resist him.
He slid into the bed beside me, oblivious to my awakened state and ogling thoughts.
Tonight had been so perfect. He was perfect—sexy, kind, funny, and so very sweet. He made me want things I’d spent a lot of time wondering if I’d ever have.
Under the covers, I slid toward him, moving my body on top of his.
His eyes popped open.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi.” He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around my back and holding me close.
“I didn’t really feel like sleeping.” I brushed my nose against his.
“And what is it you feel like doing?”
I shrugged my shoulders as my lips nibbled along his neck. Kissing a path back to his mouth, I bit his bottom lip and then licked across the plump skin to soothe it better.
He groaned, gripping my hips and flipping me to my back. His mouth locked with mine as he kissed me, long and slow and deep—so deliciously deep. I gripped the strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck. I swallowed his breaths and savored the taste of him.
My body was getting more riled, almost restless, with each heady second that passed.
He pushed my tank top up and over my chest, grabbing my breasts. He sucked a hardened nipple into his mouth, teasing the peak with his tongue, until switching to the other and repeating the same delectable torture.
The pulsing ache between my legs was proof of how badly I wanted Kline.
And God, I wanted to feel him, all of him.
His mouth found mine again. “Tell me what you want.” Our tongues danced. “I’ll give you anything.”
“I want you inside of me,” I moaned against his lips. “I want it so badly.” The need burned in a way it never had before—in a way I knew couldn’t be otherwise extinguished.
His eyes met mine, searching. “You know I’ll wait, right? I’ll wait until you know you’re really ready. There’s no rush.”
A tiny, self-doubting voice crept in. “You don’t want to have sex with me?”
“Are you kidding?” A soft laugh escaped his lips. “Baby, I’m losing my mind over the idea of feeling you come on my cock. I’d say that’s quite obvious.” He playfully rubbed the proof against my thigh, spurring a giggle from my lips.
“But I’m not rushing you.” He cupped my cheek, eyes tender. “You hold the power. You decide when it’s right.”
My hands found their way into his hair again, grasping the strands and pulling his face to mine. I kissed him like I’d never kissed him before. My mouth plundered his lips and tongue, taking what they wanted. I was out of my mind with feelings for this man. I had just told him I wanted to have sex, and he’d done the opposite of what I’d expected. He slowed us down, trying to make sure I was making the right decision for myself.
I didn’t need time to think, because Kline was right. He was all of the rights.
And I wanted to give him another part of myself.
“I want this. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer to where I was desperate for him. He settled between my thighs, his hardened cock pressing against me.
My body shook in anticipation. This moment was why I had waited so long to take this step. I wasn’t naïve, expecting my first time to be beside a fire or surrounded by rose petals on a bed. I wasn’t expecting cheesy lines of undying devotion or an engagement ring. I just wanted to make sure it was meaningful, that it was with someone I trusted, someone I cared about. And most importantly, I needed it to be someone who cared about me too, who wouldn’t intentionally hurt me—not just physically, but emotionally as well.
Everyone had their own views on sex. Some people could have sex for the pure act itself. They could savor spending the night with a gorgeous stranger and have no lingering doubts or feelings nagging them the next day.
I had always been able to leave my emotions at the door when it came to an oral exchange. But when it came to full-on penis penetration, home run sex, I knew I couldn’t approach it with that same mindset.
To me, intercourse was more intimate than oral. There was something about looking directly into a person’s eyes while your bodies became one. I knew that type of sex had to be something more than just physical for me.
I trusted Kline so much, and I’d come to do it quickly. But I felt the way he cared about me with every kiss, every smile, every lingering touch. With him, it wouldn’t just be sex. He was more than that to me. I truly cared about him. My feelings for him ran deeper than I was ready to admit. The intensity and depth of those feelings had awareness hitting me like a wrecking ball.
My heart was on the line here, and I had just realized how much I could lose.
Fear drowned my mind, spilling into my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, assessing the uncertainty on my face, acutely in tune with my wavering thoughts.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
He stared deep into my eyes. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Georgie. I’d never pressure you into doing something you’re not ready for.”
I wiped the worry from his brow. “I know that. Believe me, I know that.”
“Tell me what you’re scared of.” His eyes were so earnest. “I’ll do everything I can to fix it.”
This guy. I swallowed around my heart in my throat.
“I’m scared because…it’s so intense.” I fumbled to find the right words. “I just…I feel like I’m f
alling too fast with you. It’s scary as hell. I can’t ignore the fear that, one day, I’ll wake up and things will have ended badly between us. I don’t want to associate you with hurt in the end.”
He cupped my face, gazing down at me. “No matter what happens, baby, it will always be a good hurt for me. You make me feel alive. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure it’s the same goddamn experience for you.”
That look. There was a gentleness in his eyes that let me know I wasn’t the only one falling.
This wasn’t going to be just about sex for him either. This was more. He and I were going places, and his look said, “I’m falling too.”
And that look was why I reached for the nightstand to pull a condom from the drawer. The empty drawer.
His eyes followed me the whole way; I could feel them, but when I turned back to him, they were slightly pinched together.
“I thought there’d be condoms.”
He laughed a little, just enough to ease the tension and make me start to smile.
“There aren’t any condoms in the drawer.”
“Obviously,” I replied.
He smirked and rubbed at the skin of my waist. “I’ve never brought a woman here.”
A comforting statement to all, but somehow I managed to turn it on its head, panicking slightly, thinking that things were going to come to a very abrupt stop. I didn’t want them to. I was ready now.
“Please tell me you have condoms somewhere.”
He smiled fully at that. “In my bag.”
I shoved him off and jumped off the bed before running to his bag and rummaging through it without remorse. When the foil of the package met my fingertips, I took off in reverse, shoving him aside, resuming my position, and pulling him back on top of me.
He shook with silent amusement as he grabbed the condom out of my hand, setting it on the bed beside my hip. But his mirth transformed quickly to heat as he moved his hands to my panties, slowly sliding them down my legs, pressing kisses down my body in their wake.
He removed his briefs, his thick erection popping free.
My eyes went wide for a beat, distressed by the size of him. It was one thing to take a cock of that magnitude in my mouth, but it was a whole other ballgame when that cock was going to be the first to slide into home. “Not gonna lie, I wish you were smaller,” I blurted out before I could take it back.