by Roya Carmen
I pull away. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, the words a whisper. “I can’t do this.”
His smile has faded, replaced by an expression of complete confusion. “What do you mean, Mirella?”
“I can’t sleep with you without speaking to Gabe first. We haven’t officially resumed our arrangement, and sleeping with you right now would be cheating.”
His gaze drops to the ground. He’s obviously disappointed. Then he ventures another look up at me, and fixes me for the longest time. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
Relief washes over me. “I’m so glad you understand.”
He nods, not quite looking at me. “We need to get together again. We need to officially discuss the resuming of this arrangement.”
He’s apparently in Mr. Stiff-Upper-Lip business mode again. I nod and listen attentively.
“It will give us a chance to discuss your concerns, Mirella. I do care about your concerns, and Gabe’s too. We can go over all the points you mentioned earlier.”
I bite down a smile. His sudden formality makes me want to laugh out loud. I suppose this is how he has to act to get rid of his hard-on.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re being all business-like again.”
With a soft hold of my wrist and a grave expression, he says, “I take all this very seriously. Please, don’t think that I don’t because I’ve let my feelings for you lead me astray. I always eventually rein myself in. I don’t lose control easily. I take everything that is dear to me very seriously.”
I’m at a loss for word. “Uh…that’s good.”
Suddenly, I miss the playful Weston who was just trying to get into my skirt.
Chapter Six
I want to hear you beg.
WHEN I GET HOME, I find Gabe lounging on the bed, shirtless, still wearing his work pants. He’s flipping through channels. I shoot him a tight smile as I take off my gold hoop earrings. He studies me and doesn’t say a word. A curious expression flitters across his face. He wants to know what happened.
I peel off my stockings. “The girls went to bed early tonight?”
“Yep. They were both exhausted.”
My gaze is fixed on him. He looks beautiful. Sometimes I can go days without really looking at him, without seeing him.
He catches me staring and shoots me a playful smile. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. I walk over to the bedroom door and lock it—which is basically code for “let’s fuck…very quietly.”
He turns off the TV and slides to the edge of the bed, pulling me to him. “Tell me you didn’t fuck him.”
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He slides a hand under my tweed skirt. “But you wanted to. You wanted him.”
I grab his face and stare into his beautiful eyes. Words escape me.
He toys with my panties and presses his fingers against the cotton. I close my eyes. I’m already so aroused, and he’s barely touched me.
He teases. His stare is intense as he studies me intently—as if he’s trying to break through, to read my thoughts. He pulls at my panties, not taking his gaze off my face. I anticipate his next move. I want him so badly.
“Take them off,” I practically beg.
His smile is playful when he obliges. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine as he slides the cotton briefs slowly down my legs and over my feet. He kisses my knee, a soft peck.
His warm hand travels up the inside of my thigh. My breath catches when he reaches my sweet spot. He glides his fingers against my sex and I whimper at the sensation. His touch is so amazing.
His eyes close. A whisper of a growl escapes his mouth. “You’re so fucking wet, you dirty girl.”
I throw my head back, reveling in his touch.
He presses a long finger into me. Hard and deep. “Is that because of him?”
I throw my head back again. God, he’s driving me wild. “Yes,” I confess, the word small.
He pushes harder into me and pulls abruptly away. My body jerks.
“Tell me what happened.”
I sigh. “I don’t want to talk.”
He pulls my head to his, and pulls at my hair, exposing my neck and kissing it gently. “Of course, you don’t want to talk. You just want to get fucked.”
I trail my hands all over his torso and travel to the waistband of his pants. I start on his belt but he grabs a hard hold of my wrist, stopping me dead.
“I think you deserve to be spanked, you dirty girl.”
I stare down at him, speechless and stunned. He grabs me by the hips hard, and flips me over on the bed. “On your knees, baby girl.”
I do as I’m told, my ass propped up. Still fully dressed, I don’t feel exposed at all.
But then, he hikes up my skirt over my back. I turn back and shoot him a playful smile. His grin is devilish as he pulls off his belt in one swift move. He loops it once. His stance is stiff, his stare intense. “You’ve been bad.”
And then he lashes my ass. Just the once. Not very hard, but it stings.
Damn, that one might leave a mark.
He leans over me and rubs a soothing hand over the sting. “That’s good for now, dirty girl,” he says, his words a whisper. “That should teach you a lesson. Now tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell me how he makes you come, Ella.”
I moan, the sound a soft wail. “I…I can’t tell you,” I breathe, my words ragged. “You know that.”
He trails a finger slowly down my ass, all the way down to my wet lips. “Does he make you come with his hand? Does he touch like this?”
“Y-Yes!” I cry out. “Just like that.” I’m on the edge and I just want him to finish me off.
He pulls his hand away so cruelly and grabs a fistful of my hair. His mouth presses against my neck. “Does he make you come with his mouth, Ella?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Is that what you want?”
I moan, a little too loudly, surprising myself. “Yes.”
“I want to hear you say it,” he says, a hand still grasping my ass firmly.
“Yes, I want that.”
“Want what?” he asks, the words a whisper against my ear. “Say it.”
He’s going to make me say the words. He loves this. He loves it when I beg.
I bite my lip. “I want you to go down on me, babe.”
“You want me to eat your pussy?”
“Yes.”
He’s teasing again—a finger sliding in and out—just enough to drive me wild, but not enough to make me come. “Say it. I want to hear that filthy mouth.”
I bite my lip, wanting this so desperately. “I want…” I breathe, at a loss for breath, “I want you to eat my pussy,” I whisper.
He slides a fingers against my wet swollen lips. “I want to hear you beg.”
“Please…”
He trails a finger along my ass. “Please what?” he teases.
“Please make me come.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ella. I love it when you’re crazy horny like this,” he whispers.
He presses a hand on my shoulder and flips me around. I smile at him, knowing he’s finally giving into me. He presses his face against my sex, and I wrap my legs around his neck, eager. The slide of his tongue against my clit brings me to the edge at record speed. I grind against him, the feel of his week-old beard rough—I know I’m going to be sore later, but I just don’t give a fuck. I just want him to make me come.
And he does.
He always does.
As the waves of pleasure hit me, the heat courses through my core, travels up my spine, dissolving into a soft tingle at the back of my neck.
I take a moment to recover, pull him back to me and we finally kiss, the taste of my sex on his lips. My mouth clings to his, desperate for a connection. I want this to be more than sex.
He pulls from me. “I love you, Ella.”
The words I was looking for. �
��I love you too, Gabe.”
I pull his boxers over his beautiful ass. I explore, stroking the soft curve of skin. I tease a little and he shoots me a smile. I don’t want to make him wait too long. I take him in my hand—he’s still hard and huge. I want him. I want him to fill me deep. I want him to make love to me. “How do you want to fuck me?”
“Just like this.”
I close my eyes as he presses into me.
He buries his face in my hair as he sinks deeper. “I’m sorry about the belt. I just got caught u—”
“I know.” I reach for him and shut him up with a kiss.
He pulls from me again. “You drive me crazy, Ella,” he says, his words ragged. I know he’s getting close. “You make me so mad, but so fucking hard too.”
He pushes into me deep one last time, and pulls at my hair when he comes.
I take off my clothes, swivel over on the bed, and snuggle against him.
I don’t quite look at him when I tell him, “We need to talk.” I’m not sure how he’ll react when I tell him I’ve officially decided to start this again—whether he’ll be on board, or whether he’ll refuse to do this.
There’s a certain pull where he and Bridget are concerned. She’s beautiful, walking perfection; a goddess. But that’s not it. There’s something more to it. I suspect she might give him something I can’t provide—a chance to explore his darker side.
He’s tried to take it to another level with me a few times, but I’ve always held back a little. Sex for me is about pleasure and passion, and whether I’d like to admit it or not, connection. It’s not about pain or kink. But there’s something about Bridget…
“So, you and Weston…” he says without preamble.
“We…” I pause, trying to work out the perfect words, venturing a look up at him, “we both want to resume the arrangement.”
He lets out a breath. And silence fills the room.
After the most excruciating second or two, he finally asks, “You want to do this again?” His words are soft, even. There’s no anger in him. He wanted this to happen. He wants to start this again too.
My stomach feels heavy when I ask him, “Do you have feelings for her?”
I need to know.
He smiles at me and I know he’ll tell me the truth. “I won’t lie to you,” he says, his eyes fixed on mine, “the sex is good.”
“You miss it?”
“Yep, I won’t lie. Bridget is…”
I jerk away. “God, Gabe! I don’t want to hear it.”
He grabs my wrist and shoots me his trademark playful smile. “Of course, she’s nowhere as good as you.”
I shrug. “Right. You don’t need to lie to me.”
“What about Weston? He seems to rock your world.”
I think about Weston, about how my body reacts to his; it lights up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree whenever he’s anywhere near me. Words can’t describe.
I smile. “You know we’re not supposed to talk about this stuff.”
He laughs. Gabe has always found these rules of Weston’s quite amusing. But soon enough, his laughter fades into silence. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this again…be with him.”
“The thought of him and I must drive you crazy.”
He smiles. “It does. Which is why I can’t believe we’re doing this again. To be honest, I try not to think about you and him.”
I know exactly where he’s coming from.
“He wants all of us to officially meet again. We’ll go over the terms of the arrangement, and revise a few rules.”
He laughs. “Of course, another meeting,” he says, his words laced with sharp sarcasm. “Will there be coffee?”
I smile. “Nope. But there will be beer. He mentioned a little brewery restaurant one of his friends owns.”
“I’m liking the sound of that.”
I cuddle closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. “I thought you would.”
We lay together for a while, in complete silence. I wonder if he’s having the same thoughts I’m having—wondering if we’re making a huge mistake.
Suddenly, he pushes me softly off him. “What if…” his hazel eyes darken as he asks, “what if he hurts you again?”
I bite my lip. I’ve worried about that too. “I won’t let him this time.”
“You need to be careful.”
He’s right. I am careful. I’m being cautious. I’m wearing all the protective gear. I’m not letting him get to me this time. “Are we completely messed up?”
He takes me into his arms and squeezes me tight. “Yep, like Chloe’s silly eight-ball says, ‘It is decidedly so.’”
Chapter Seven
Plain and simple, right?
WESTON CALLS ME FIRST THING in the morning the next day. I’m giddy when I see his name on my phone display. It’s nice to be able to communicate without Kathryn, as nice as she is. I try to manage the conversation while I’m getting the girls’ school lunches ready.
“I realize this is very short notice, but is there any way you and Gabe could meet us tonight after dinner.”
My heart skips a beat. The man is in a hurry. My breath quickens at the thought. He’s in a hurry to fuck me.
Yes.
“Yes, definitely,” I reply, lost in completely inappropriate thoughts.
“Great. Around eight o’clock?”
Suddenly, I remember the girls. Yes, I almost forgot the fact that I have two small daughters. My mind doesn’t always function properly when aroused.
“Actually,” I say with a sigh. “I need a babysitter. It is a school night so I’m not too sure if…How long will it take?”
“An hour tops,” he assures me.
“How about I call you to cancel if I can’t get a sitter,” I suggest.
Please, Caroline, be available.
“Sounds good. I’ll text you the info.”
“Sure.” I cringe at the sound of our conversation, it all sounds so formal.
“Good-bye. I’m looking forward to seeing you,” he says.
I think back to our last kiss and how much I craved him. And I will finally get to have him again, but not soon enough. “Me too,” I say quietly. “Bye,” I add just before I get back to making the girls’ sandwiches.
Weston and Bridget are already waiting for us when we get there. They’re standing at the entrance of the cool pub style restaurant. Rustic unfinished surfaces and steel contraptions abound. I feel like I’ve walked into a very organized, esthetically pleasing junkyard.
Bridget leans in for a hug and I notice they’re both wearing jeans. I’ve never seen Bridget look so casual before. She totally pulls it off—sexy, skinny dark wash jeans and white cashmere top.
Weston and Gabe shake hands. I cringe a little. It all feels so awkward.
“Cool place,” Gabe says.
Weston nods, a thumb in his pocket. “These hipsters are going to put you out of business. Who needs nice furniture anymore, when you can just pick up junk God-knows-where?” he jokes.
Gabe grins. “Maybe I should start scouring the junkyards and thrift shops.”
“You boys have no clue how much this so-called junk goes for,” Bridget tells them.
Wow. Everyone seems to be getting along.
This might not be so bad after all.
The hostess chimes in, “So, are we all ready, folks?”
Yes, yes, definitely ready.
Weston shoots me a smile as we follow the hostess. He looks delicious in a fitted checkered shirt and dark rimmed glasses. He fits right in. I’m glad he’s chosen such a laid-back place for our big “meeting.” It eases the tension a little. I’m nowhere as nervous as I was at the first meeting. I still remember that night so clearly—including the ridiculous Jackie-O suit I wore. What was I thinking?
We get seated at a booth. The last time we all sat in a booth together, I suffered a panic attack. But thankfully, this booth is a lot more open surrounding a beautiful wooden table. I study t
he beautiful patterns of the wood; the knots, the swirls of caramel, the glossy veneer.
I stare up at the barn board ceiling and huge exposed air vents. I study the rustic brick covered walls and the cool vintage beer posters. I can’t look at Weston. He sits right across from me, yet I can’t look at him.
Gabe grabs my hand, almost as if he senses I need someone to hold it. He laces his fingers between mine and shoots me a smile, and I relax a little.
“So what do you think of this place, Gabe?” Weston asks.
“It’s fantastic.”
“I’m glad you approve. I had you in mind when I chose it.”
Damn, now he’s being super nice to Gabe too. He’s trying so hard. He’s so sweet.
Gabe shoots me a grin. He seems to find this all very amusing.
I finally dare to look up at Weston. He’s perusing the menu, and his posture is stiff.
“Yes, this place is pretty amazing,” Bridget says. “A friend of ours owns it. All kinds of flavors of beer.”
I hate beer.
We order our drinks and the waitress is quick to deliver them—dark Ales for the boys, a cider for Bridget and an iced tea for me. A platter of sausage meats and cheeses is also served, but again, I’m too nervous to eat a thing.
Weston savors his first sip of beer, swirling it around in his mouth. I get lost in that mouth—the things it has done to me.
Damn.
I pull my gaze away and it drifts to his hands—the things those hands have done to me.
Damn.
He stares down at his beer, not quite looking at any of us. “So…” he starts off slowly, very slowly, shoulders hunched. It’s obvious he’s not enjoying himself. He’s doing this for me. He knows we need to go through this formality before he gets to fuck me again. He also wants to please me, to make me happy.
“Mirella and I thought it would be a good idea for all of us to meet and discuss this matter,” he says, so business-like. Obviously, this matter is formal speak for us all fucking each other again.
Gabe shoots me a tight-lipped smile. He’s being so good. I smile and squeeze his hand; a warning to behave.
I feel tense. The idea of alcohol sounds very good about now. I consider ordering a beer after all.