Sure enough, there was Char’s van pulling in a few spaces away.
“Oh, Hollis, I love your scarf,” Char said once we were inside and waiting for a table. “Let me try it on? Pretty please. I need something like that to go with my red sweater?”
She reached for it and I batted her hands away. Sawyer coughed into his hand as I put on my sternest tone. “We’re not fifteen. I’ll order you one from the woman who knits samples for Ev.”
Luckily, she got distracted by Aria, who wanted to head straight for the play area. We got a table near where she was happily playing with a train set. Somehow we ended up with Char and Tucker opposite Sawyer and me, despite my maneuvering to try to get seated next to Tucker. The Murphy twins each ordered tasting flights of beer.
“And you?” The waitress turned to me.
“Tea,” Char said, gesturing across the table to encompass both her and me.
“That and I’d like a sour cherry cider.” I still hadn’t quite forgiven her for messing with my scarf.
Sawyer gave me a happy little kick under the table. He ordered the Huba Nero spicy burger, so maybe we weren’t going to be kissing after all. I kicked him back.
The hard cider came and was surprisingly not bad, especially when paired with my salad. About halfway through eating, Sawyer deposited a few fries on my plate. “What’s this?” I asked in a low voice. Char was busy with Aria.
“You keep looking at my plate like you haven’t eaten in a month.”
It wasn’t his plate I was looking at, but I didn’t share that, only raised an eyebrow.
“Oh.” He smiled warmly, giving me a few more fries. “Just saving you from stealing Char’s fries. She needs all her strength.”
Ha. Sawyer wasn’t wrong, though. I never ordered fries myself and yet inevitably I ended up stealing others’.
When Char turned her attention back to us, she put on her most winning smile. “Sawyer? Could you babysit on the twenty-first? Tucker and I want to go to this solstice concert. Might be one of our last chances to have a date night before the babies come.”
Sawyer consulted his phone for a second. “Sure.” He nodded, but his thinking face had my fingers drumming against the table. “Hollis will come, too.”
“Hollis will what?” I speared him with a look.
“I’m just saying that you need to be familiar with the bedtime routine and stuff before the babies come, Hols. If you want to help out, that is.”
“I do.” I had already made a reservation with an organic meal service for Char’s family for after the babies came. But babysitting wasn’t exactly my strong suit. I’d only watched Aria for a few moments while Char got ready to go out, things like that.
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Char enthused.
“No, it’s not.” Tucker laughed. He’d had more beer than Sawyer, who’d stopped after his tasting flight. “I don’t want our kid to witness bloodshed. Those two are barely civil anymore.”
Sawyer’s foot met mine midnudge. Barely civil; yes, that was us. Barely civil with Sawyer’s tongue halfway down my throat two nights prior.
“I suppose I can check my calendar when I get back to work,” I said for reasons that had nothing to do with wanting to spend another evening with Sawyer. Really.
“Yay!” Char gave a little cheer. “Now presents!”
“Prezzies!” Aria added.
Char gave Sawyer a cookbook on baking and Tucker gave him a certificate for baking classes.
“We need more edible experiments,” Tucker said, and we all laughed.
“His offering for the business group’s holiday party wasn’t half bad,” I said absently.
“I just need the right pan.” Sawyer didn’t wink at me, but he didn’t need to. And as it turned out, I hadn’t given him the darn pan the other night. Which meant he had an excuse for another visit to my place. And why that thrilled me, I really couldn’t say.
Sawyer gave Tucker golfing lessons.
“Golfing lessons? But that will take you away from the kids!” Char moaned.
“Exactly,” the three of us said in unison, and everyone laughed.
Then, feeling exceedingly foolish, I brought out my gifts.
“Oh, something from the store!” Tucker’s enthusiasm sounded more than a little forced.
They opened them at the same time, opening the lid to reveal well-packaged presentations of notebook, ink, and Kaweco AL Sport pens.
“Because I never have a pen?” Sawyer smiled so broadly I thought he might pull something.
“And that one never has paper.” I gestured at Tucker, trying to cover how pleased I was that Sawyer liked the gift. And no one but me would ever know that his pen was the exact shade of the jeans Sawyer wore the most, the ones that hugged him just so, and the mottled leather of the notebook cover reminded me of the infinite shades of his hair. And the jaunty green ink I’d chosen? That was Sawyer’s eyes. He’d never know any of that, but it made me hum a bit, having put it all together.
“Hey, dude, my ink’s cooler than yours,” Sawyer said to Tucker, who had received the same brown notebook but a black pen and black ink. Reasons.
“Thanks, man.” Sawyer’s eyes caught mine and something passed between us—not the secret heat that had been simmering all evening and not the rekindled friendship I’d promised him the other night. Something stronger and warmer than either of those and infinitely scarier. I looked away before he could see too much.
Later, after Char and I got the check, Sawyer made a show of popping some mints. Ha. As if that would be enough to tempt me into kissing his habañero-infused mouth.
Of course twenty minutes later that’s exactly what I was doing, not caring one whit about lingering spiciness as Sawyer pinned me against his entry wall.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that all evening,” he said, coming up for air. With surprisingly careful hands, he unwound my scarf.
“Is this becoming a thing for you?” I asked.
“Yes.” There wasn’t a hint of apology in his voice as he unbuttoned my collar, licking at the skin he exposed. He turned me slightly so that he could kiss the back of my neck.
“Hell.” I went limp and pliant in his arms, shivers racing through me.
“What do you want, Hols?” his voice licked at my eardrums, all wicked suggestion.
Chapter 9
Hell if I had an answer to Sawyer’s question. It was hard to think with his lips right below my ear. I had a feeling what he wanted and I wasn’t opposed to giving it, but asking for it wasn’t something I did easily.
“It’s your birthday,” I said.
“It is.” He bit my neck lightly. “And I want you to tell me what you want. You’re the one with…exacting tastes. I’m just a guy who’s happy getting off. Want a rerun of Sunday? I’d be happy with any variation of that. Not into oral? I can cope. You want to fuck me? I’m good. You want me to fuck you? Excellent. So you’re going to have to give me a clue here.”
“You’d let me fuck you?”
“Happily.” He pushed me a few paces forward when I snort-laughed. I didn’t doubt Sawyer had tried bottoming—he was nothing if not agreeable—but the guy had had a toppy vibe even as a teenager. He flipped on a light. Sawyer had an older upstairs condo off Broadway in a fourplex his family owned. Big and airy with lots of crown molding and original details, its sunny colors and open spaces totally suited Sawyer’s outgoing personality.
“Bedroom’s this way. So that’s what you’d like, then? Me to ride you—”
I laughed again, cutting him off. The image wasn’t without its appeal, but in a distant sort of way. And I knew perfectly well where the bedroom was, having been in the mirror unit many times when Tucker and Char lived there. “You know it’s not.”
“I love it when you laugh.” He folded me in a hug from behind, seeming unable to let m
e walk down the long hall without touching me. “And yes, I think I know.”
“But you’re going to make me say the words.” I turned in his arms, looping my arms around his neck.
“Absolutely.” He nodded against my head. “It is my birthday and all.”
Maybe it was the cider still humming pleasantly in my veins. Maybe it was the fact that it was his birthday. Maybe it was simply him. Regardless, I stretched to put my lips against his ear and uttered words I usually reserved for very drunken requests. “Fuck me.”
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.” He kissed me and we stumbled the last few feet to his bedroom. Sawyer had, predictably, a monster king bed. A big sprawling affair with puffy comforters and huge pillows. I moved to take off my jacket and Sawyer shook his head. “Let me.”
He undressed me the way he kissed me: slowly and thoroughly and joyfully, as if he were unwrapping chocolate truffles and savoring them one by one. My jacket hit his hardwood floor, then my shirt. He knelt to unzip my boots, then motioned for me to step out of them. Still on his knees, he removed my belt, then unzipped so I could wriggle free of the pants.
“I love that you wear silky briefs.” Sawyer stroked the fabric with his fingers, skirting the outline of my cock. “It’s so you.”
I laughed. “I didn’t even notice yours the other night, but I’m betting cotton. I’ll get you some good ones. You’ll never go back.”
“Still wrong context?” He mouthed my length through the slippery fabric.
I nodded.
“Damn.” He shook his head, then brightened. “Can I suck you after I fuck you senseless? That sounds like fun.”
“Do you need to choreograph everything?” I extended a hand to help him stand. “I’m not used to so much…talking.”
“Tough.” He tweaked one of my nipples before pulling off his tie and shirt. In contrast to his slow, deliberate moves when undressing me, he was fast and clumsy as he stripped himself. I twitched a little at the mess of our clothes, but I knew he’d laugh if I stopped to straighten. Pushing his pants and boxers—black cotton—off, he gave me a feral grin before he pressed me back into the bed. “Want to grind against your pretty underwear a bit.”
“Less narrating, more doing,” I ordered.
“Sorry, Hols. We’ll get you earplugs for next time.”
“You will not.” I shoved at his shoulder. All this talk of next time and someday made me nervous, so I channeled all that into kissing him desperately.
“Yeah,” he murmured, moving so that his big body covered mine, hard cock dragging against mine through my briefs. Like the other night, he was surprisingly unhurried as we made out for long moments, kissing and stroking, a slow blaze as opposed to a fast inferno.
“Sometime I want to get off like this,” he murmured. “Come all over your expensive underwear and make you wait and wait.”
Okay, maybe all his narrating was sexy because his words made me shiver.
“But tonight I’m going to fuck you.” He rolled away to riffle through a nightstand drawer. “Happy Birthday to me,” he said almost under his breath.
He returned with condom and lube, and a thought I’d rather not have floated through my head. “Sawyer, I hate to ask—”
“Yeah, I’m tested.” He kissed my neck. “I know you think I’m a big old manwhore, but I do play safe.”
He kissed his way down my front. “Is rimming one of those needs-the-right-context things for you?”
“It’s a ‘I’d rather shower first, please and thank you.’” I laughed, both to cover my nerves and because I couldn’t not laugh. God, I never laughed like this in bed. Ever.
“Oooh. Adding showering with you to my list.” He licked the line of hair on my stomach. “And just for the record, I’m not so picky. And I’m very oral.”
“Noted.” I deliberately made my voice dry simply to hear his laugh. I might be developing a fetish for his deep chuckle, but I’d never tell him that.
Pushing my underwear off, he grabbed the lube, intent clear in his eyes.
“I can do it,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Noted.” He imitated me but didn’t surrender the tube. “And it’s not about can.”
He captured my mouth, showing off his impressive wingspan as he folded me up so that he could finger me while we kissed. I wasn’t so sure about this until his lips drifted to my neck; then, once he had me pliant and moaning, he latched onto a nipple, slick fingers continuing to quest. He lit me up in ways I hadn’t been in years.
“Now.” I shoved at his shoulder. “Now.”
He released the nipple with a lewd smacking sound that wrenched another soft moan from me. “Oh, we both know you’re not about the now.”
Withdrawing his fingers, he considered me. “Hands behind your head. Lace your fingers.” Wordlessly, I complied and his breath hissed in. “You just…do it. Oh, Hols…”
Apparently my quick compliance did something to him because it earned me another plundering kiss before he took care of the condom. I stretched regularly after running on my treadmill, and I was grateful for every bit of flexibility as he bent my legs up, getting his thighs underneath me. I wanted to say something about not being a pretzel or how he didn’t have to show off his sexual gymnastics, but he took away my very breath when he started to push in.
“Keep your hands there.” His eyes weren’t on my hands, however; instead, they were locked on where we joined. He wasn’t the only one with tricks, and I willed my body to relax, let him press in with a smooth stroke.
“Holy fuck.” Eyes rolling back in his head, he groaned. “So. So. Glad…that your kink isn’t…my waiting.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I said darkly.
“Fuck, I l—” Whatever he was going to say was lost in another moan as his second stroke brought him even deeper. He knew precisely how to angle his hips and mine to maximize the pressure on my gland, and soon I was the one crying out.
He pinched my sensitive nipple and my arms jerked.
“Nuh-uh. Keep your hands there.”
“Want to touch…myself,” I panted.
“I know you do.” His voice soothed, then hardened most deliciously. “But you’re not going to.”
My cock leaped at this, drooling clear fluid against my belly. Hissing a little, he released my nipple and swept his thumb across the head of my cock, gathering up the slick before sucking his thumb into his mouth.
“You play dirty,” I accused as my dick got all sorts of ideas about what it might like.
“You love it.” He laughed as he thrust, a talent I wouldn’t have thought he had. “God, I want to suck you, Hols. Want to swallow you down and finger your freshly fucked ass.”
“You’ve got a filthy mouth.”
“Guilty.” He bent forward to lick at my mouth. “And that wasn’t a no.”
“That was a please, for the love of God, let me come. Now.” I strained against my linked hands and his heavy body.
“You don’t really want that.” He pumped harder, his voice getting breathier. “And it doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you come yet.”
“Please,” I moaned as he hammered my spot—short, hard strokes that pushed my body to the edge even without a hand on my dick. My arms jerked again, hands almost coming apart as I needed…more.
“Keep your hands there.” His hand went to my wrist, not pinning me to the bed but enough pressure to remind me why my hands were up. Because it pleased him. Because he’d ordered and I’d complied and something in that dynamic made my body sing, made me feel like I’d left behind every worry and anxiety and could simply exist from request to request, reduced to little more than a hungry vessel for pleasure, begging for relief even as I wanted never to leave this moment. “Gonna research safe knots,” he muttered.
“What…think I’m going to let you?�
� I tried to sound arch and ended up only sounding desperate.
“I know you will.” His body shuddered at his words. “Fuck. Hols. You’ll let me.”
“Come,” I said because I could tell he was close, and I was close to sobbing for release. “I need it, Sawyer,” I babbled. “Need to come.”
“You will. But…not…yet.” His hips sped up. “Not yet.”
“Sawyer.” My whole body tensed.
“Don’t you dare come yet.” His thrusts were growing more erratic, which tossed me ever closer to orgasm.
“Please.”
“No. You have to wait.” He moaned, deep and low. “Watch me now, Hols. Watch me come.”
“Yes, yes,” I cried out. He fucked deeper, strokes losing all their earlier finesse, his big body convulsing and coming apart. My balls tightened and my chest flushed. I had to clamp down hard to keep from joining him, especially at the pinch of pleasure-pain when he pulled out.
He took a minute to breathe heavily next to me, then launched himself at me, breath a warm mist against my cock. “Tell me this is the right context. You did good, babe. So good. Waited perfectly.”
“Yes.” It was entirely possible I could come on his command alone. I was that tense.
He didn’t tease with his tongue, instead swallowing me all the way to the root, moaning happily as he did so. He hadn’t said yet, so I trembled and shook as he sucked. I started keening as he added fingers to the mix.
“Now.” He lifted his head the barest of seconds before returning to sucking, fingers working my spot as I came, crying out. I was sobbing with relief, curling up into a ball as I was powerless to do anything else but simply let pleasure have its way with me. Sawyer’s large, capable hands stroked and soothed me as he murmured in my ear about how perfect I’d been.
Gradually I uncurled, clinging to him as aftershocks continued to rack my body.
“Fuck, you’re incredible.” He kissed my forehead before sitting up long enough to clean us both up with a cloth from the basket next to the bed. I guessed there were advantages to not putting laundry right away.
He flopped back next to me, pulling me into his arms. “Hols…I’ve had a lot of sex—”
Gathered Up Page 20