Then came the undeniable, sudden, and very unexpected shiver. The butterfly batting its wings before Hurricane Orgasm.
I didn’t even know how it was possible. We’d only just started. He wasn’t touching my clit, and neither was I, but I zeroed in on the sensation and realized that with every drive he was hitting my clit with his pelvis. He was going to make me come. And my vibrator was on the other side of town. “Gabe,” I said as I drove my nails into his skin. I inhaled hard against his body, my nose near the hollow of his throat. His cologne was so yummy. His body was so yummy. He was so yummy. And from that place of yummy warmness, where I wasn’t thinking or worrying about if he was doing it right or if I was going to be able to come, it began to happen. Everything inside me went still. I felt myself fluttering against him. The world was starting to shiver, starting to tremble. “I’m going to . . .”
In response, he gave me an insane thrust that made the headboard slam against the wall, and then . . . he pulled out.
All the way.
“. . . come on!” I growled.
And he said, “If you think I’m going to let you come that fast, you better think again.”
I sucked in a desperate breath and writhed against the sheets. I tried to hook my legs together behind him to get him back inside me, but he came up to sitting on his knees and slowed things down. He stroked himself slowly; he wet two fingers inside me. He tasted me and groaned again, and then wet them some more. And let me have a taste. I bit down on his fingers as I sucked my wetness off him.
“I’m going to learn you.” He began to tease my clit with his middle finger, a featherlight touch on the edge. “I’m going to find out exactly what you like.” He moved his finger counterclockwise, and the tension spiraled out into pleasure. I arched my neck so I was looking back at the mahogany headboard, upside down. He slid into me with two fingers and ground his palm into my clit.
I gripped his thigh hard and groaned. “Oh my God, what is happening?”
“Me and you is what’s happening,” he said, now slipping out of me and coming at my clit from the opposite direction. I felt his cock, warm and hard, lying on my thigh. With the hand he’d been using to stroke himself, he slipped inside me again and now it was his turn to groan.
He changed tactics and compressed my clit between his fingers. He wasn’t touching it at all, and it became extra sensitive as he teased it away from my pelvis. He rolled his fingers side to side, and it sent me whirling. I grabbed the sheets hard and felt a cramp in my feet. He planted his hand beside my head and looked down at me. “Talk dirty to me,” he said, tugging my bottom lip down with his thumb. “Let me hear something filthy from that pretty mouth.”
It surprised me, and I suddenly felt shy and vulnerable. “I don’t really know how,” I said softly. “I’ve never done it before.”
“That’s the whole idea.” He pressed into me one more millimeter. “You want this dick? Fucking earn it.”
What a cocky bastard. He was the one who needed to be begging me. He was the one who needed to be earning me. The red streak of anger inside me blew up into a warning flare. My sister once told me every woman is sitting on a fortune. He might be one gorgeous buck, but I was the one with the pot of gold. “Don’t be an asshole, Mr. Powers.”
“Yeahhhh,” he growled and gave me the head. He was thick, and just the tip made me slap the sheets and paw at his chest. But he swatted my hand away. We faced off in the moonlight for I don’t know how long. He didn’t soften at all. Nor did he let me have any more of him. “Go on,” he said. “Do it. Let me hear you.”
The words didn’t come easily. How could I give him what he needed if I didn’t even know what to say? There were things I wanted to say, of course—You feel incredible. I need you to be back inside me. But none of those things felt dirty enough. Those were one chili pepper on the hotness scale. But if he wanted dirty? I could get dirty. I could give him five chili peppers at a time. All I had to do was tell him exactly what I wanted. And that’s exactly what I did. “Fuck me. Hard.”
His eyes flashed in the moonlight, and I felt his cock pulse inside me. “I’ll do anything to hear you talk like that.”
Power. I felt it then, in a crazy wild rush. Here was this beast of a man who responded like that to just my words. I pulled his face down to mine and dug my fingers into the back of his neck. “Fuck me until I come, and don’t stop even then.”
“Natural beauty, natural filth,” he said and gave me another thrust. The more I felt him give in to me, the easier it was for me to get out of my nice Southern girl ways.
If he wanted me to be rude, he was going to get me being rude. “Get inside me, you . . .”
“You what,” he growled, pinching my cheeks.
I could do this. I was a Jameson, for God’s sake. Even though I didn’t swear much out loud, I sure as hell knew how. So I looked straight at him. His intensity and fury gave me courage, and my inhibitions vanished all at once. Prim and proper had its place. But this wasn’t it. “Get inside me, you motherfucker.”
“Atta-fuckin’-girl,” he said with a visceral roll of his body and a powerful drive into me. All his control, all his resolve vanished, and he thrust into me with a primal fury that made me roar. His hips slammed into my clit. His fingers dug into my thighs. Within seconds, I was right back there in that place again. About to come, about to be lost. He’d made me wait, and my senses were heightened.
“Let go for me,” he said into my ear. “Show me what you’re made of and come on this cock.”
Like he’d pushed me off a cliff, I was falling. Down, down, down, roaring his name. I hung on to him and dug my nails into him and bit down on his shoulder. And came.
Oh God.
How I came.
13
GABE
I fucked her through her orgasm and back again. Every contraction made me want to bust my load deep inside her, but I fought off the urge, making sure I gave her exactly what she needed and more. Once I felt her come back to me—when her breathing went back to normal and her roars quieted down into panting gasps—I asked, “Are we going to screw around with condoms, or are you going to let me come inside you?”
She looped one arm around my shoulders, narrowing her stare. Thinking. Considering. Deciding where my cum was gonna go. Fuck yeah. “It is safe?” she asked.
Her innocence was adorable, but she didn’t get it. “I’m not about to put this perfect pussy in danger.”
Her laugh was coy and soft. She pulled me closer and ran her fingertips through my hair. “I don’t know if you’ve earned it.”
That was my sweet spot right there—that place between respect and disrespect. The fire burned hottest right on that line. “Think I earned it right when your oh God turned into oh Gabe.”
She didn’t answer with a word, but with another squeeze of her pussy, one so intense that it made a wave of precum spill out of me. Mother. Of. Fucks. Once I could actually speak again, I said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Another squeeze, even harder. “A definite yes.”
I eased back into the rhythm I’d found with her before, addicted to the new thickness of her wetness. Astroglide had nothing on her postorgasm liquid silk.
As she dripped out onto my balls, I gave it to her hard, I gave it to her wild, I gave it to her until I felt her walls begin to pulse for me again. But it felt less intense than the time before, so I pulled out of her, tucked my arm under her, and rolled her over. “Get on your knees. Come for me again.”
She hesitated and looked back over her shoulder at me. I rammed into her so hard that she dropped her cheek to the mattress and roared. I slowed down enough to let her answer, and she said, “I don’t know if I can.”
There was some vulnerability in there that was hard for me to rail against, but I wanted what I wanted and she was going to give it to me. “Don’t fucking argue with me,” I said, going slow on the withdrawal, until only my head was still inside her. And until her toes curled up and
she gripped the sheets in her fist. “I know you can do it. So do it.”
She listened that time, and as soon as her fingers met her clit, I felt the flutters intensify. I held on to her hips, digging my fingers into her muscles, feeling her every curve and valley. Her long hair slid off her back over one shoulder, and she supported herself with one arm. I felt her fingertips against the sides of my cock as I powered into her. I aimed for her G-spot, and I hit it again and again. I knitted my hand into her sweaty hair and pulled back, drawing her jaw upward. She made a long, dirty “Nnn-hnn-nnnn” and began to touch herself faster.
I gave her everything I had, and she took it. More, more, more.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “Please come with me. Please.”
“Don’t be so fucking polite,” I told her as I drove into her even harder.
She let out this angry roar that blew my mind. I was fully ready to let her have it, but then she doubled down on me. “Come inside me. Right fucking now.”
That was that. She had me before I even knew I was gone. Hanging on to her hips so hard I knew I’d leave bruises, I came in three hard waves, shooting my cum deep inside her heaven-sent cunt.
Both of us were spent, and she fell asleep in my arms with sweaty ringlets framing her face. The moonlight inched across her body and the messy sheets all around us. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her silky hair cool against my lips. Through the musky, salty smells of the two of us together, I could still smell her sweetness. Sweeter now because I knew how fucking dirty she could be.
But right as I was falling asleep with her in my arms, the power came back on. The room was bathed in light from the hallway, shining in through the door and the window she’d crawled through earlier. She made little sleepy moans of protest, rolling over and curling up against my chest. The air-conditioning kicked on, and I felt cool air begin to fill the room. I wanted to stay exactly where I was, with her nestled up against me, but if I didn’t get the quilt from the floor and shut off the lights, odds were pretty good that one or the other would wake her up. No way was I going to let that happen.
Very gently, I slipped my arm out from under her and placed a pillow under her head. I got out of bed, careful not to let the old wooden frame squeak, and pulled the sheet up over her, as well as the quilt. I went out into the hallway and switched off the lights, then carefully made my way down the staircase and switched off the foyer light as well. I picked her dress up off the stairs and laid it over the banister and then headed back up to bed. But halfway up I heard a sound. A faint, unfamiliar sound. Like breathing but not quite. I froze and turned to look down the steps behind me.
The noise got louder, and I realized what it was. It was Lily. And she was snoring. Smiling to myself in the darkness, I made my way back to the bedroom, closed the door behind me, and got back in bed beside her. I pulled her close against my body and placed my chin against her shoulder. Last night, I’d fallen asleep thinking about her. Tonight, I had her in my arms. Sometimes shit didn’t work out like you hoped. But sometimes it most definitely did.
14
GABE
I was alone when I woke up. For a second, bleary-eyed and half-awake, I thought last night might have all been a dream. But right in front of me was proof she was real. She’d left me a note on the bedside table. It was the receipt from her aunt’s grocery store, and on the back she’d written:
Gabe,
Had to go help my sister doing a thing for her work!
I didn’t want to wake you. oxoxox
PS: Last night! OMG.
Maximum cuteness. I rolled out of bed and grabbed my boxers from the floor. Hanging on the bedpost, I found her panties. She’d left them for me. Mine, all fucking mine. I ran the delicate lace edge between my fingertips. But if her panties were here, it meant that she wasn’t wearing them. Which meant she’d left the house naked under her dress. And that idea . . .
I pulled my boxers over my raging morning wood, did my best to get the stallion in the barn, and wandered downstairs into the kitchen. I turned on the coffee pot and splashed my face with a handful of water. Through the window above the sink, I looked out at the backyard, with its tire swing and overgrown garden. The place was lush and private, with an old, high fence running around the perimeter of the property. Big oaks, velvety green grass. Like paradise. It had to be a quarter acre at least. I’d noticed a lot of houseplants at Lily’s place, and for one awesome second, I imagined her out there—in a sun hat, with pruning shears, and a dog running around her feet.
Once I got my coffee squared away, I set up my laptop on the dining table to check my email and got my day started. Even though last night had been a huge success personally, professionally it had yielded exactly fuck all. Which was totally fine. It was another day, and God knew there were plenty of alleged ghosts in Savannah. But just as I was sitting down, something caught my eye. There on the buffet by the wall was one of Lily’s audio recorders. The digital display said Memory Full.
Holy shit. In the heat of the moment, I’d completely forgotten that they were everywhere around us. Did that mean . . . I cycled through the display info and saw it had almost ten hours recorded on it. That meant it had been recording all night. That meant it had recorded us. Together.
Having mind-blowingly excellent sex.
If I couldn’t have her with me now, at least I could get some of last night to tide me over. Coffee and recorder in hand, I got situated at the big wooden table. I got my laptop booted up and connected to the Wi-Fi. I grabbed my headphones from my bag and put them into my ears. Then I stuck the USB stick end of the audio recorder into the slot on the side of my computer.
Expecting to hear me coming on to her via Ouija board, I turned up the volume. But the mic seemed to have only picked up the audio from the dining room itself. Very faintly, I could hear her laughing, but it sounded far away. Still, though, cute as hell—it sounded like a distant wind chime, and it made me feel so fucking good. If I hadn’t known what I was hearing, it wouldn’t have been obvious. But I’d lived every fantastic second of it, and as I listened I replayed every touch and sensation. I heard us going up the stairs and very faint breathy whispers. No actual words, but I remembered it all in vivid detail. It was me talking to her. Me eating her out from behind on the steps.
I turned up the volume, and I was almost certain I heard my hand slapping her ass. Then came the sound of footsteps and then silence for a while. A few seconds later, the thump-thump-thump of us pushing one another across the bedroom. More silence, which would’ve been when we were teasing each other, talking dirty. Getting rude. And then came the very definite sound of me fucking her, as the headboard ka-whump-ka-whumped the wall. I pressed my fist to my mouth and groaned.
Leaning back in the massive old dining chair, I listened to myself having my way with her. The dining room was directly below the bedroom, and the recorder had gotten every last bang and roar. There were no clear words, only ferociously sexy sounds. Hearing her come got me painfully hard, so hard that I thought I was going to have to do something about it. But I didn’t. I was going to let that feeling build and build; I’d be taking it out on her—in her—soon enough. Once the recording went silent, once we’d gone to bed, I rewound and listened again. The second time was even better, even hotter, and I remembered new details. The way she’d arched up off the mattress with her heel to my sternum, the way she’d squeezed. The way motherfucker sounded on those full pink lips. But right as I was starting to hear her give me her gritted-teeth roar . . . my phone started to ring.
Lily. It had to be Lily. I needed it to be Lily. I was so high on that sound of the two of us together, so distracted, I didn’t even look to see who was calling. Until it was too goddamned late.
Panting. Grunting. “Powers! Where the hell is my pilot?”
The guy would interrupt his own funeral. I smacked the space bar to pause the recording. “You have the worst timing.”
“Morning to you too, sunshine!” he bellowed.
On the screen were the peaks and valleys of the audio WAV file. Coming up there was a big spike. It was her first orgasm of the night. Magnificent. “Go back to your spin class, man. I’m really busy.”
“No spin today!” he panted. “I’m on the elliptical! Really working those glutes!”
I winced. The image of Lily in bed was replaced by Markowitz in his home gym-office setup. He’d rigged a laptop to his elliptical machine with bungee cords and carpentry clamps so he could work while he burned “mega calories.” He’d given me a demo the last time I was over at his house. Every time he took a step, he clenched his ass. Hard. Made the spandex pucker and everything.
“So where’s my pilot? I got bigwigs breathing down my neck! Gettin’ real hot in here!” His breathing got louder and more like a crank call.
In the background I could hear the whooshing of the pedals and tried to unremember those godforsaken spandex shorts. He weighed like 160 pounds. Nothing good about any of it at all. I rubbed my temples and then ran my hand over my jaw. “I’m working on it. Seriously. When was the last time I let you down, man?”
“Well, there’s always a first time for everything, Powers.” I heard him take a swig of water on the other end of the line, and then what sounded like some static. “Goddamn it. Got another call. Hold on,” he said, and the whoosh-whoosh of the elliptical went silent.
While I waited I moved my mouse around on my desktop. When I minimized the audio window, a new window popped up asking if I’d like to download the file from the digital recorder. I hesitated with my arrow over the yes button.
Jesus. Should I? Would that be weird? Would I be that guy? I really didn’t want to be that guy. But what if some crazy shit happened with the file? What if . . . I looked at my cup of coffee and then at my computer. What if I knocked my coffee over and the file got erased? What if . . . it got corrupted? What if some awful shit happened and I never got to hear it again?
Do You Feel It Too? Page 9