by Lindsey Hart
“Alright. Let’s walk then.”
“Do you want a drink first? Maybe a couple of shots?”
“Do you need liquid courage to walk?”
“No. No, I don’t.” Not with you. “But I am pretty thirsty. It’s been a really long day.”
“I could get us a couple of waters.”
“Okay, sure. Waters. Then a walk.”
“Waters and a walk. Deal.”
I don’t ask to shake on it. I don’t say that a walk is not exactly what I want from our deal. I definitely don’t allow myself to think that no strings could hurt far worse than strings. That it all could. That once feelings take root, it doesn’t matter if it’s been a few hours or a few years. They’re there. The start of something that you can’t just pluck out and pretend was never there without pulling up little bits of your heart.
I just want to stop thinking. Thinking is bad. I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve spent my whole life overthinking everything. For once, I’d like to just turn my brain off and just be.
So, I let Gabriel guide me over to the bar. I let him get us two bottles of water, and since I left all my stuff back at Mom and Dad’s house—even my phone and wallet and everything as I got a ride to the hall with the rest of the wedding party—I let him guide me straight out the front door of the hall and into the black night pierced only by the few street lights illuminating the main street of the town where I grew up.
CHAPTER 15
Gabriel
If the weather during the day was perfect for the wedding, it’s still just right at night too. The sky might be inky black overhead with a few twinkling stars out to pierce it, but the temperature is still summery and warm. Unfortunately, it’s not just us enjoying it. We keep busy, walking side by side, swatting wildly at the mosquitoes buzzing around our heads and biting our arms every now and then.
“I’m sorry about my grandmas,” Pearl says after we round the bend to the street that intersects with the tiny main street. Sisston truly is a small town. One of the smallest I’ve ever seen, but then again, I was born and raised in a big city.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I’m sorry for anything else that might have been said out of my hearing. They think it’s fun. It’s probably the most fun they’ve had since their quilting club.”
“What’s wrong with quilting?”
“Nothing! I love quilting.”
“You quilt?”
“Well, I try. I sew—a little bit. But I’m not good at it, and I probably end up cursing more than I do actual sewing. It’s frustrating.”
“You’re kind of artsy, aren’t you?”
Pearl laughs awkwardly. She unscrews the cap of her water bottle and drains half of it. She wasn’t kidding about being thirsty. “I don’t know about that. But my family is. Susan makes amazing pottery. She started that back in high school. Dad’s a mechanic, so I guess that counts. His artistry is with motor parts and whatnot. And Mom’s a gardener. She always had the ability to make just about anything grow. She has trouble with begonias, though. They defeat her every time, no matter how hard she tries. And my grandmas both sew. Grandma Pearl paints too. I do interior design, as you know, but I’m not sure that makes me artsy. Just good at picking out things that go together and furniture placement, maybe. It’s actually a skill. You can learn it.”
“You can learn art too.”
“Can you? I always thought artistic skill was natural.”
“I think people can get better. That’s why they have classes.”
“Do you do any art?”
“No.” I have to scoff at myself. “I’ve tried quite a few different things over the years. Maybe I’m one of those people who can’t be taught and doesn’t get better, even with classes. I actually tried pottery in college, and if your sister is good at it, then I take my hat off to her because that stuff isn’t easy.”
“I have no idea how she does it.” Pearl drains the rest of her water and squishes the empty bottle in her hand loudly. We’re just about down the second street, approaching a narrow asphalt path that looks like it cuts through people’s backyards, but I can see, once we’re closer, that it just skirts beside them.
“This is the way me and Susan walked home from school all the time. Down this path. Actually, we walked everywhere down it.”
I want to take Pearl’s hand, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. That would be too…I don’t know…too strings attached. Not that I’m sure about what’s going to happen when we get back to her parent’s place. She took me by surprise. And my dick thinks it’s a pleasant surprise. I feel half like an asshole for agreeing to it since it’s not something I’ve ever done, and half elated because yeah. Pearl. Naked. Who wouldn’t be excited about that?
If she just wants to sit and talk and make out, though, I’d be okay with that.
Or even just talking.
Whatever she wants to do.
Since we left the hall, I’ve made up my mind to enjoy it no matter what, because this is our last night together, and for some reason, it makes me really fucking sad. Like, really. It feels like I’m getting run over by a rabid, vengeful beaver who somehow figured out how to fire up the old tractor that’s been sitting around in the front yard for ages.
“You know, when I’m not here, I kind of miss this place.”
“Yeah.” I nod even though I have no idea because I don’t know what small-town life is like.
The path stops just short of Pearl’s parent’s house. We walk down the road for a few minutes until we approach the driveway. Pearl charges on ahead, walking fast. She opens the front door—I guess no one locks anything in a small town. For a second, I think she’s going to slam it in my face and laugh at me for thinking she’d want to ever do anything with me, but then her hand flies out, and she holds it open. As soon as I shut the door behind us, she walks a few steps and turns, her eyes so wide that it looks like a rabid beaver might have snuck in behind me. I actually glance over my shoulder. Thankfully, there’s nothing there.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Pearl asks. “I…I’m probably not even your type.”
“My type?”
“Your type is probably blonde. Bigger boobs. A nicer ass. Longer legs. More expensive everything. Someone not like me.”
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t have a type. Believe it or not, I’ve never done this. The fake boyfriend thing, or this.”
“Really?” Pearl’s nose scrunches up at the bridge as she gapes at me. “You mean, you’ve always just waited until it meant something? In a relationship?”
“I suppose so.”
“Did someone mess you up? Or was it someones? Because for me, it was a few. That’s why I want to stay single. I think it saves a lot of time, effort, headache, heartache, the whole bit.”
“You’re probably right.”
“What happened with yours? The one who put you on the single and narrow? Mine cheated on me with two women. In my bed. It was the good ol’ straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“I got used.” My voice is flat and to the point. Devoid of emotion even though just thinking about it still stings. “Badly. And it turned me off a repeat experience.”
Pearl nods slowly. “So this is for sure no strings attached? We have our night, I drive you home tomorrow, and we both look back on this, I hope, with fond memories?”
“You said I waited until it meant something. In the past.”
“I was just…that was just me thinking out loud.”
“It does mean something. I want you to know that. Just because we won’t see each other again doesn’t mean it doesn’t mean anything. It does. I’m just not ready to change my life up. And you aren’t either. But it definitely means something. This weekend was one of the best I’ve had in a very long time.” I sound surprised. I didn’t plan on saying it. Any of it, really, but especially not that last bit.
Pearl looks surprised too. “Really?” She laughs nervo
usly. “I’m glad. I’m glad it wasn’t a disaster. It could have been really bad. I’m glad that out of everyone in the bar, Dean walked up to you.”
I want to make some manly-macho comment about her being even more glad in a few minutes when she’s screaming my name while experiencing the best orgasm of her life, but I’m not sure we’re going to get that far, and even if I was, that’s a shit-ass thing to say. I could also tack on, though, that I’d yell her name too when I’m coming harder than I ever have before because I already know it’s probably a very good possibility that if we do get to that point, it’s going to be true. Also, I’m really glad, too, that out of everyone at the bar, her friend randomly picked me.
Pearl stares at me, and the green flecks in her hazel eyes stand out. Her pupils actually dilate as she studies me. She knows. She knows exactly what I’m thinking, and I wait for the smack and for her to tell me I’m gross. For her to demand that I take the floor tonight because I’m a male pig and for her to just change her mind because she’s figured out that she might destroy me with this, and also, that she’s way too hot for me.
But nope. She doesn’t do any of that. She doesn’t say anything.
She just walks straight for me, wraps her arms around my neck, and tugs my face down to hers.
And me?
I kiss her right back as if my life depends on it.
CHAPTER 16
Pearl
Holy shit, this guy can kiss.
And we’re not just kissing. We’re eating each other’s faces while I try and climb him again. I grip his t-shirt in balled-up fists as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. I lick his tongue with mine, and I nip his lip. He nibbles lightly on my chin before he kisses me so hard again that I see stars.
“Upstairs,” I pant. “Don’t want anyone coming here and walking in on this.”
“Good,” Gabriel grinds. “Yes, get me out of this suit. And let me get you out of that bridesmaid’s dress. Your hair looks like those pins might be a little tight too.” He rakes his fingers through my curls and into the part that is piled on top my head, and sure enough, pins go raining all over. His fingers feel like heaven against my scalp. I can’t imagine how good they’re going to feel on some other spots.
I capture Gabriel’s face between my hands and drag his mouth back to mine. He propels me backward, through the hallway, and up the stairs, all while we attack each other’s mouths. We round the bend to the spare room, and I start fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. They’re kind of assholes, but once I open the first one, the rest becomes easier. When all the buttons are undone, I tug the hem of his shirt out of his pants. It gapes open as soon as we stumble into the room. I hit the light and take a good look at what was hiding under the shirt.
“Holy balls! You’ve got to be kidding me.” There’s a freaking eight pack under there. Or maybe it’s ten. I’m not sure, but it’s washboard-y and a heck of a lot more than six.
“You haven’t even seen them yet.” Gabriel’s hands reach around and unzip my dress. I’m not wearing a bra, since the thing has built-in cups, and when it falls, I’m naked to the waist with the lights on. I’m not exactly a lights-on kind of person. “But holy balls is right.”
“My boobs appreciate the compliment.”
“They’re perfect,” Gabriel groans.
I hit the light as his hands encircle my waist. He steers me over to the bed without complaining about the lack of being able to see anything at all. That’s nice. Not being pushed out of my comfort zone. I mean, at least as far as lights go. The whole comfort zone? I’ve busted straight through that the second we came back to my parents’ house.
“My god,” I gasp as Gabriel drops his head. He does something amazing with his tongue and lips, trailing a hot path straight down to my breast, and then he takes my nipple into his mouth. It’s already so hard that it could practically cut his tongue off. I think about warning him, but as his tongue flicks over and around the tight bud, I think he’s good. He’s got this. No warnings were needed.
He palms my other breast with his hand, and oh hell, yes, he knows what he’s doing. His hands are just as amazing as his mouth.
Shards of white-hot heat ripple through me. My skin feels like it’s on fire, but there are crazy chills racing all over the place, and the hair on the back of my arms is standing at attention. I wish I could just get Gabriel’s pants and this stupid dress off all the way and not take our time, but it would ruin the moment, I’m sure. It’s probably insulting to just ask him to get it out already and stick it in, so I let him take the lead.
I’ve never felt comfortable fully surrendering myself during sex. Or during anything. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but I just feel like that oneness people talk about having with another person, it doesn’t happen for me. It’s always me as a separate entity, but I don’t feel like that right now. At all. I feel like I’m already a part of Gabriel, and he’s already a part of me. It kind of freaks me out a little, how connected I feel with him.
“Here we go. Careful now. Please don’t fall off and get another giant welt on your forehead.” Gabriel stops teasing my nipple—and the rest of me by default—and lifts me onto the bed. Gently. He’s so freaking gentle. He kneels down, pushes my dress up, lifts my legs so my feet are now on his shoulders, and oh my god, he’s going to…
Wow.
His hands peel away the panties I have on. They’re not overly attractive ones. Just plain beige and seamless so they wouldn’t be visible underneath the dress. His fingers send heatwaves hotter than the sun scorching the desert up and down my legs and flooding into the rest of me. I feel like I’m being zapped with a cattle prod or something.
And then his mouth is there, on my bare skin. He’s kissing me, tasting me, and licking me down there. Is this seriously happening? I’m not sure because my brain is so scrambled right now that it’s shit at processing anything. My body, though? Oh yeah. It’s processing everything, and it’s totally on board with this. With everything that Gabriel is doing with his fingers, his tongue, and his lips. Jesus. I can feel his stubble scraping over all my sensitive skin. How is that so hot? His tongue. Gabriel’s tongue should be awarded a gold medal for what it’s doing, which is gently swirling over my clit, applying a little bit of pressure, and dancing away before repeating it over and over.
It’s hard to stay dignified when something this amazing is happening, and my hips have a mind of their own. I keep telling them to stay down, but they’re not listening. They keep pushing into Gabriel’s face, riding him in reverse. No, wait. I don’t think that’s the correct term. But whatever. They have a mind of their own, and I’m trying to help him hit the spot. Not that he’s not doing a good job because he’s doing an amazing job. Maybe I’m just reacting. I don’t freaking know. I just know it feels out of my mind amazing.
“Arghmfpfhhhh.” That’s about as close as I can get to using words. Thankfully, Gabriel knows I’m trying to encourage him, and his fingers get in on the action.
God. Do they ever. I didn’t realize a person could be so, so…ambidextrous. Except with their tongue. And their fingers. And their mouth. All at once.
I buck wildly, trying to rub all of me on just about anything I can find. Gabriel runs his finger over my entrance while his tongue circles my clit, and oh my fucking god. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know I like it. I’m making wounded animal noises in between little grunts and moans.
“Should I stop?” Gabriel raises his head.
“Why would you stop?!”
“Just checking that everything’s going okay up there.”
“If you stop, I’ll tear this dress off and strangle you with it.”
“Wow, violent. I like that.”
“I wouldn’t really,” I groan. “But if you’re not into it, you can stop. I mean, maybe I taste funny or something.” A more embarrassing statement couldn’t possibly exist.
“No, you taste absolutely amazing,” Gabriel groans. “And I’m not going to st
op. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That I’m doing it right.”
“You’re doing it right. If you keep doing it like that, I’m going to embarrass myself by setting a record for how fast someone has ever had an orgasm before.”
“In that case…”
Holy Fuck. He goes back to doing what he was doing, but this time, his finger slips inside and plies me with slow, steady thrusts while his tongue works my clit. Some inner demon comes out of me, and now I’m bucking and writhing and making really strange noises. I didn’t know it was possible for anything to feel this good. Actual sex has never even felt this amazing. Dear god, I want to cut off Gabriel’s tongue and frame it and put it on the wall. No, not seriously. Jesus. But his tongue is freaking divine, and if there’s a tongue hall of fame out there, then his deserves to be in it. Figuratively, I mean.
He keeps working me with his fingers, doing crazy things to my va-jay that I didn’t even know could be done, namely on the inside, but I guess maybe it’s more like spots. He’s hitting some pretty freaking amazing spots. His tongue. Oh, god, his tongue. I have no idea what to label what he’s doing down there. Going down isn’t the right term. Oral isn’t either. That’s such a gross sounding word anyway. More like redefining life as I know it. Pleasure as I know it. I realize there was no way I’d ever experienced actual, real pleasure before now.
My orgasm comes out of nowhere. I mean, not nowhere. I think it was coming on this whole time, but when it hits, I think I literally jump straight out of my skin and rocket somewhere up near Saturn. Yup, I can see the rings, and I can see a whole bunch of crazy lights too. Stars? Nebulas? The sun? Oh, hello, other planets. Are those spaceships?
It takes me a minute to come crashing back into myself. I melt into the mattress like an overcooked noodle—all squishy and nasty and impossible to get on a fork.