by Gwyn McNamee
“Because it’s what I’ve wanted since I was sixteen. Because we know each other better than anyone. Because I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I know you want this too.”
Shit. She isn’t wrong.
I’ve always known she felt something for me, something more, but hearing her say it, lay it all out there like she just did, is something else completely. Skye always plays it close to the vest when it comes to her feelings for people. She keeps everyone at arm’s length and pushes away anyone who tries to get close with her singular brand of attitude and snark. When Star died, Skye essentially closed herself off. But she’s not closed off now. She’s wide fucking open to me, and I don’t have it in me to lie to her. If nothing else, she deserves the truth.
“I won’t lie to you, Skye. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the wedding, and it’s been killing me to fight it.”
A spark ignites in the depths of her hungry gaze, and she drops her arms to her sides. “Then don’t. Don’t stop thinking about me. Don’t fight it anymore. I’m right here, and you know what I want.”
“But what about—”
“No!” She takes a step toward me and holds up her palm, effectively silencing my protest. Challenge dances in her eyes. “None of that matters. What matters is you and me, right here, right now.”
I watch him struggle—with the situation, with himself—and I wonder if I pushed too hard.
Christ, Skye, why can’t you just take things slow instead of trying to force his hand.
Easing him in to the idea of an “us” would probably have been the better course of action. Because right now, he looks like he’s ready to turn tail and run. If he does, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do, because I can’t go on seeing him and pretending there’s nothing between us.
I may have to move.
Biting my bottom lip, I contemplate potential places to relocate.
I think Portland is supposed to be nice, and about as far from New Orleans as I can get.
Just when I’m about to abandon all hope, the look in his eyes flips in a second, from wary to something darker, more primal. He steps toward me, and I instinctively move back until my ass hits the counter.
Hunger.
That’s what it is—hunger. He’s the predator, and I’m his helpless prey.
His hands tunnel into my hair, and his lips are against mine before I can even say another word. He plunders my mouth—our tongues thrashing and ragged breaths mixing. This is Gabe unhinged, and boy, it is fucking beautiful.
My head spins with a thousand questions, but my body won’t let me ask them. If I voice them, this will end, I know it will.
And I need this. I want this more than my next breath right now.
He presses me into the counter, and his hard cock meets my lower abdomen.
Damn this height difference.
With a frustrated groan, he drops his hands from my head to down under my ass and lifts me up onto the counter, aligning his cock in just the right place to rub exactly where I want him. I grind against him and bury my hands in his thick, blond hair, holding him in the perfect position for me to devour his mouth.
“Fuck…” he mumbles against my lips.
I chuckle and tug his bottom lip between my teeth playfully before pulling away to grin. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
It’s like he’s reading my mind.
His left hand slides up under my tank to grasp my breast. He pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending a zing of pleasure straight to my clit. I gasp into his mouth and press my core against his dick, making it abundantly clear what I want.
“You sure?” The question comes out rough and on a ragged breath. He’s hanging on to any restraint he has left by a thread, just like I am.
“Please don’t make me beg, Gabe, not now.”
When his lips find mine again, it’s with a barely-contained hunger. My body hums in anticipation, and he slips his free hand up my shorts. I’m always wet when I think about him, but having him here, about to get what I’ve wanted for over a decade, has me absolutely drenching his fingers.
He pushes two into me.
Fuck yes!
I squeeze down around him, and he breaks away from our kiss and leans forward to groan into my ear. “Christ, you’re so fucking wet.”
He has no idea how many nights I’ve spent dreaming of this moment and imagining all the things he would do to me. I’ve made myself come more times than I can count thinking of his face, his touch, and his cock.
Fantasy be damned, the real thing is so much better.
His thumb slides up and presses against my clit, causing my hips to buck up of their own volition and pushing his fingers deeper inside of me.
“Jesus, Gabe…”
A slow, torturous swirl around my clit has me grinding my teeth together and biting back another curse. He tugs at my nipple and thrusts his tongue into my mouth all in time with his fingers. I’m spinning into orbit, and I haven’t even gotten my hands on him yet.
I need to touch him.
All I can think about is that goddamn nipple ring and how much I want to tug and bite it. My hands tingle, and my mouth waters just thinking about it. And now, I can actually act on the desire I’ve built up for years.
With a brush of my hand, I lift his shirt, and my palm finds the warm expanse of his abs. He shivers and flexes under my touch. The rippling of the tight muscles there is testament to how hard he works to stay in shape, and it leaves no doubt in my mind that he will work just as hard at sex.
Shifting my hand up, I search for the object of my exploration. When my fingers find the metal ring in his left nipple, I can’t suppress my grin and have to break away from our kiss. I tug on it and revel in the widening of his eyes and the gasp that escapes him.
A sly smirk spreads across his lips, and he growls—actually fucking growls—before taking my mouth again.
I can’t wait any longer. His hot skin under my touch and his ministrations are just too much.
Cock. Now.
I reach down and unbutton his jeans before lowering the zipper. His hot mouth on my neck as he kisses his way up to my ear makes my breath stutter. He bites and tugs at my lobe, and when my hand finally grasps the base of his cock, he groans in my ear and a litany of curses fall from his lips.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Skye. Just…fuck…”
I revel in his hard flesh in my hand and tug on it to liberate it from his jeans completely. His cock springs free and a heavenly chorus of angels sings the hallelujah chorus. But when my palm finally contacts the head of his dick, I freeze.
She stills with her hand around my cock, and I jerk my head back from exploring that spot behind her ear to search her face for an explanation.
Maybe she changed her mind and came to her senses.
Wide eyes meet mine, and her jaw drops open. “You have your fucking cock pierced?”
I hadn’t considered her reaction to my apadravya piercing. I’m used to women commenting on it, but I figured Skye would have heard about it by now, considering how many women have seen and experienced it. She has to have crossed paths with at least one of them over the years.
They all assume I did it for some altruistic reason—so sex would be more pleasurable for them—or even so it would be more pleasurable for me. But, they couldn’t be more wrong.
I did it for the same reason I’m inked on half my body—the pain. Pain is the only way I know to quiet my mind. I’m forced to focus on my body instead of always being in my head, surrounded by the guilt and second-guessing. When I ache is the only time my brain shuts off and everything becomes peaceful. I figured there couldn’t be much more painful than having a metal rod shoved through the head of my cock, and I was right. It hurt like a motherfucker for a while, but that faded all too quickly. The fact that it feels fucking incredible now when I’m inside a woman—for both of us—is just a happy side-effect.
A grin is the only r
esponse I can muster because there’s no way in hell I’m telling her the real reason it’s there. That’s a conversation I’ve only ever had with Doc Cochran, and that shit stays in her office.
Where I’m probably going to end up again if I go through with this.
Skye swirls her palm around the head of my cock, shifting the piercing through the hard flesh and it twitches in response.
It feels like I’ve waited forever for this moment with her. I should be doing this somewhere else—a bed, a couch, a fucking chair—anywhere but her goddamn kitchen counter with the smell of baking cookies lingering in the air. But I can’t wait any longer.
She doesn’t let me second-guess myself long. She leans back and releases my cock so she can pull her tank-top off over her head. Her breasts bounce free, directly in front of my face, and I’m hypnotized by their perfection.
Jesus H. Christ.
I lean forward and catch one pale pink nipple in my mouth. Moaning, she tugs at my arm. My fingers are still buried inside her, and I realize she wants me to take them out.
The moment my hand is free of her body, she shoves at the waistband of her shorts. I struggle to retain suction on her nipple as she slips them off and lets them drop to the floor.
She grasps my head, tugging on my hair to move me away from her chest.
I start to step back so I can get out of my jeans, but she wraps her legs around my waist and tugs me in closer, regaining her hold on my cock.
Her small hand barely wraps around me.
Shit, what if I hurt her?
She uses her feet to push my jeans down until they’re at my ankles and the tails of my button-down shirt dangle around my cock and her arm. I don’t even have time to think about taking it off before she’s rubbing the head of my dick through her wetness.
Sweet mother of…
Crap, condom.
“Skye…condom…”
Her head jerks up, and she watches me, waiting for me to act.
Jesus, the one fucking time I don’t have one in my wallet. “I don’t have one, I didn’t come here expecting this.”
She searches the kitchen frantically and points to her purse on the counter several feet over from where we are twined together.
I reach over and grab it, dumping the contents next to us.
No time to be gentle about it.
The familiar gold package sits in the middle of the pile.
Don’t think about why she has it, Gabe, just be thankful.
I tear at the foil and slide it on in record time. My hands return to her, grasping her hips and jerking her to the edge of the counter.
My cock throbs harder than I imagined possible. I lock eyes with her and gently push just the head into her.
She whimpers and bites her lip, then shifts forward, fully impaling herself on me in one swift motion.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” I grit my teeth when my body screams for me to pull back and pound into her. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
She flexes her pussy around me. “You won’t.”
No further urging is needed. On a slow glide, I pull out until just the tip is inside her and then I push forward, bottoming out deep in her core.
Skye cries out, and I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her, sliding my tongue along hers in time with the thrusting of my hips. Her hot, wet, tight channel clasps my cock, and I clench my eyes shut to concentrate on not coming.
Her hips slam against mine, and her bare feet dig into my lower back, urging me forward with more force on each stroke.
A thud has me opening my eyes. I find her with her head dropped back against the cabinet, her mouth hanging open, and her breath is nothing more than heavy panting.
The angle has the head of my cock pushing straight against the hot wall of her pussy and the tug on my piercing along her inner walls has me gritting my teeth again.
“Oh, fuck, Gabe…”
I zero in on where our bodies connect.
Fuck…bad idea.
Watching my cock disappear inside of her with every thrust does nothing to help my struggle to hold back my orgasm. But I refuse to come before she does.
I’ve waited for this for too long to be a douche canoe who only cares about himself.
I slide my hand over to where we meet and rub my thumb over her clit. She bucks on my cock, and her head falls forward.
Her glazed eyes meet mine, and though I’m sure I’m going to hell for this, at least I’ll go happy.
A high-pitched buzzing tears her eyes from me and over to the corner of the kitchen.
“Shit…the cookies.” I can’t believe I forgot they’re in the oven.
Gabe growls and uses his free hand to turn my face back to him. “Fuck the cookies.” His eyes darken and bore into mine, and he thrusts up into me so hard, my head slams back against the cabinets.
There’s no question about what’s going to happen here. His cock inside me outweighs the potential for any lost sweets.
“Yes…fuck…the…cookies.”
And just keep fucking me.
He resumes the punishing tempo, and I bite my lip to keep from releasing a scream I know would make the neighbors come running.
His hand expertly works my clit while his cock stretches me, that damn piercing pulling, tugging, pressing in all the right places.
I always knew it would be good with Gabe, but I never expected it to be this earth-shattering, and I haven’t even come yet.
My legs quiver, and I dig my heels into his back, urging him to come closer, push deeper. He yanks my head down so he can kiss me again, and I bury my hands in his hair, wanting to keep him tied to me in every way possible.
The unmistakable smell of something burning hits my nose, but I can’t manage to care when my entire body is vibrating and heat is spreading out from my core.
“Jesus, Gabe, I’m gonna come.” I grunt out the words against his lips, and he somehow manages to increase the tempo with his cock and his thumb against my clit.
The fingers on his left hand dig into my hip, and I drive against him harder, faster, racing toward the orgasm I can feel just on the horizon.
He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and groans, biting down when I clench myself around his dick even tighter.
My head spins. The room swirls around us.
With one last deep thrust and a tug on my clit, I come, releasing twelve years of pent-up need and desire for the man with his cock buried deeply inside me. Gabe grunts, and his rhythm falters before he follows me over the edge, screaming my name into my mouth.
Our sweat-slicked foreheads press together and our panting breaths mingle. Stillness surrounds us, but the blaring sound of the smoke detector breaks me from the reverie.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I pull my face away from his reluctantly and lick my swollen lips. The familiar metallic tang of blood surprises me. I hadn’t even realized he bit me that hard.
All I felt was bliss.
His eyes twinkle with amusement, and he playfully squeezes my still-quivering thighs and tosses his head toward the oven. “You should probably take care of that, huh?”
I nod and grin at him. “I’ll get the cookies, you get the smoke detector.”
We both groan when he pulls out of me. I instantly miss his cock filling me and his heat warming me.
He holds out a hand, and I take it, letting him assist me off the counter. When my feet hit the floor, I wobble and cling to him to keep from falling over.
Amusement sparks in his eyes again, and he gives me a second to right myself.
Turning my back on him to attend to the cookies is difficult. There’s a good chance he will bolt once he reaches the smoke detector near the front door; it’s the perfect escape route.
Don’t disappear on me, Gabe.
My heart can’t take it.
I don my oven mitts and open the oven, letting thick, black smoke pour out.
“Shit.” I frantically wave my arms, trying to disperse the smoke. Out of the
corner of my eye, I see Gabe toss the used condom in the trash and disappear around the corner toward the front hall.
The cookies are nothing more than charred, black blobs on the baking sheets.
It was worth it.
The screaming siren of the smoke detector cuts off sharply, and I pause with the last sheet in my hands and focus on the door to the kitchen.
Please come back. Please come back. Please come…
When he reappears around the corner with a battery in his hand and a wicked smile, my heart soars.
His pants hang low off his hips, the zipper still down and button unhooked. He follows my eyes and chuckles, reaching for his crotch.
I drop the sheet tray onto the counter with a bang, and his head snaps up.
“No. Don’t bother. You’ll be losing those in a minute.”
That bitch named morning comes all too fast, and my alarm blares on my nightstand. I reach over without opening my eyes and slam my palm down on the snooze button before burying my face further into my pillow for another moment of peace.
The covers are nowhere to be found, making my plan to ignore life and go back to bed less enjoyable. I roll onto my side and open my eyes to an empty, cold bed.
He fucking left.
My heart sinks, and I almost curse him before the closed bathroom door and tell-tale sound of the shower running hits me. I inspect the room and see his jeans and shirt tossed haphazardly on the floor where he dropped them before we climbed into bed for rounds two, three, and four last night and this morning.
The dull ache between my thighs and my nakedness remind me of just how fucking amazing he is before a twinge of jealousy hits thinking about how he got that good.
Buzzing on my nightstand pulls me away from becoming the green-eyed monster, and I reach behind me to grab my phone.
I roll onto my back and close my eyes, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Skye? Why are you answering Gabe’s phone?”