by Lex Martin
Between kisses, I gasp the question I’ve been mulling over for a while. “Drew, do you…get turned on…when we argue?”
“What do you think?” He thrusts against me, and I moan, my hormones instantly going on high alert.
I tilt my head. “We’ve always argued.” I mean, not so much now, but our history before Mount Hood is one long series of blowups. His emerging smile gives me the answer before I can ask the question, but I say the words anyway. “Did you want to have sex with me before the cabin?”
“That would be a fuck yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since always. I’ve always wanted you, Kendall.”
Just like that, we can’t get close enough. I push off his T-shirt. He yanks off mine, gets up long enough to take off his jeans and boxer briefs and then he’s on me again. Pushing up my skirt and tugging down my underwear so that it’s dangling off my ankle that I promptly wrap around his waist as he wedges himself between my legs.
“Do I need to grab a condom?” he mutters against my mouth.
“Your swimmers already got to the motherland and erected a flag, so that seems redundant. I mean, I can’t get any more pregnant.”
Drew throws his head back and laughs.
The sight of him—relaxed and happy, all of his muscles taut as he leans over me with that boyish grin—increases my frenzy to connect with him.
Because I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘what have I done.’ Drew says he’s here for me. That we’re in this together. And after the way he kicked Gary’s ass on that conference call and said all of the right things tonight, that’s the only evidence I need to try to make this relationship work.
After the intensity of everything that happened today and the weeks we’ve spent apart, I expect him to ravish me. To fuck me so hard, I can’t walk straight tomorrow. But the minute our bare bodies are completely pressed together—chest to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh—he pauses to kiss me so slowly, every part of me aches from the most luscious sort of pain.
Because I feel cherished.
Pushing my hand into his hair, I yank him closer. I bite his throat. Lick his lips. Relish the sound of need that rumbles in his chest when I suck on his tongue.
We part briefly to stare at each other, our breaths charging the space between us.
Now, this moment, somehow changes everything.
We’re no longer scratching an itch. We’re something more. Something meaningful.
I nod, wanting what he has to give me.
Above me, he braces himself on his forearms as his hips move between mine, until his thick crown prods my entrance.
When he sinks into me, we both groan, and I cross my legs over his back and let myself appreciate every second it takes him to bury himself inside me. I’m stretched to the brink in the best way, and I claw at his back to get closer.
He nuzzles into my hair. “Fuck. You’re like a goddamn vise. So good. Jesus, you feel good.”
“Don’t stop,” I pant, needing to feel him. Wanting him to break me apart.
Little pulses of pleasure beat a steady rhythm between my thighs when he starts to move, and my eyes roll back in my head as my hips arch.
His couch thumps against the wall each time our bodies come together. The scent of his cologne and shampoo and clean sweat makes me hungrier to get closer.
Every single stroke inside me feels electric, and when he hikes my leg over his shoulder, I burst apart. My thighs quake, my vision seared by a white light, and when he thickens inside me and pulses his own release, I come again, tossing my head back and letting loose a scream that leaves my throat raw.
Sex with Drew is sublime.
In my wildest imagination, I never would’ve thought we’d be like this. That he’d make me intoxicated. Wild. Unbridled in a way I never knew I needed.
Slowly, he lowers my leg to his hip and rolls us to the side, somehow preventing us from rolling off the couch.
With a kiss, he says, “I’m thinking that was makeup sex, which, for the record, I’ve been wanting since I saw you at Josh’s last weekend.”
I smile, my lids so heavy I have to close my eyes. “Wanna do that again in the morning?”
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face and places another soft kiss to my forehead. “We really should make up for the last several weeks apart. Seeing how I missed the fuck outta my girlfriend.”
I’m Drew’s girlfriend. And we’re having a baby.
A mere month ago, that scenario would’ve set my hair on fire, and I’d have run away screaming.
Instead, he carries me to his bedroom, and I fall asleep with that smile lingering on my lips.
27
Drew
I wake in my bed draped over Kendall like a duvet that’s slipped to the side, my face tucked into her neck, arm tossed across her torso, and thigh hiked up between hers. My bicep twitches over her slim navel. Compared to me, she’s so tiny I overwhelm her, though that just makes me want to hold her closer. Protect her.
A rough, scraping noise assaults my ear, but it’s only Shazam cleaning himself while sprawled in the most uncouth position on my pillow. He’s got no shame, the little bastard.
Other than my rescue cat and our breathing, though, it’s silent.
Mist from the gray dawn edges up the windows of my quiet bedroom. As I snuggle into Kendall’s warmth, basking in the comfort of her in my arms, my mind is at ease, which is a weird thing. I’ve spent so many manic years racing through my days, searching for the next distraction, that I’ve never really had a sense of calm. Ever. I’ve woken up hungover with regrets more days than I can count, and since I’ve been sober, I wake up not sure what I’m doing. But I never wake up happy where I am.
Except now.
This morning, I can’t help but settle into being content. I’ve got my Ken. We’re on speaking terms. Hell, we’re not just communicating, we’re dating. We have non-Thanksgiving food, central heat, reliable electricity, and cell phones. There’s no snow. And we’re not in jail.
Best day ever.
Seems like all my best days are spent with her.
And nights. Like the way our bodies moved last night. The way she looked at me with trusting eyes. The way we connected.
In summary, I don’t want to move from my bed, thank you very much.
An electrical current charges up my back and along my arms as I touch her and look at her, but my mind isn’t racing ahead. I’m just taking in her peaceful face.
Honestly, I’ve never had a greater feeling of wellbeing.
I blink and scratch my balls. Easy on the self-help books, asshole. Lifting my head to scan the room, I curse.
Damn you, gray mist, for making me sound like a dipshit, even in my own head.
The pads of my fingers start tracing lazy circles on Kendall’s velvety belly.
She stirs. Reaching down, she kisses the top of my head and toys with my hair. “Hey.”
“Hey, back.” I lurch up to kiss her—God, I love to kiss her—then go back to my Drew-is-a-blankie position partway down her torso, relishing the way her nails begin this soothing scratchy yummy thing in my hair.
I’m definitely not moving.
“How are you feeling?” I murmur into her side, and begin to massage her tits. Because tits. “Morning sickness?”
Settling her hand on her abdomen, she breathes in and out, scanning her insides. “Not yet.”
“Has it been bad?”
“Like a tsunami of vomit.” She pauses, and a shiver runs through her body. “That’s not sexy. I’m sorry.”
I pull back and put my finger under her chin so she has to catch my eyes. “KK. Never be sorry about how you feel. Oh, and newsflash. There’s no way you could not be sexy.” She shrugs, but can’t help beaming. I keep talking. “I’ll be honest. I’m responsible here. My baby batter’s baking in your oven.”
She snorts.
“I’m stepping up to help. I need you in
my life. Even if it’s just to kick my ass.”
Scooting down so we’re nose to nose, belly to belly, she kisses me. “I can do that. Kick your ass. Whenever you want, just say the word.”
My voice turns husky. “You do it well, and it turns me the fuck on. Give me Kendall hashtag no filter any time.”
Her hands trace my face. “It’s funny. We went so long sniping at each other that it’s taking some adjustment to reconcile how we used to be with how we are now.”
I’m really liking how she says we. That deserves a big old sloppy kiss, and I indulge. After we break apart and are breathing hard, I say, “Agreed.”
“What do you want to do today?” While her words are innocent, her hand is anything but, creeping down my abs toward my dick.
I’ll happily let her have her way with me, but I want to take a gander at her. I roll to my back, lifting her up so she straddles me. Naked. Tits out. Nipples pointing. Long, red hair mussed like she’s just been fucked. Sleepy, sultry eyes. Satiny skin. “On a day like today, I recommend hanging out and taking in the view from my apartment.”
Her head turns toward the windows, her cute nose pointed up. “Your place is pretty cool.”
My paws cover her boobs, and I squeeze. My dick jumps underneath her. “I mean this view.”
A grin crosses her face, but it quickly morphs into a grimace. Her hand flies to her mouth, and she vaults off of me, sprints to the bathroom, and slams the door shut behind her.
I rise and pad after her, torn between wanting to give her privacy and making sure she knows she’s got support. Tapping on the door, I call, “Kendall? You okay? I’m here if you need me.”
A muffled voice tells me to go away.
Still doesn’t change the fact that it’s the best day ever.
* * *
“Hey. This is delicious.” Kendall cocks her head to the side and uses her spoon to gesture at my homemade oatmeal Chez Maison Merritt.
I smirk. “Don’t sound so surprised.” Between the added crunch from nuts and granola, plus some strawberries, I make a decent breakfast, especially for those with poor tummies. Experience with hangovers comes in handy.
We’ve showered. KK’s rocking my too-big #phuckifino T-shirt and gray sweatpants that engulf her toned legs.
My mind latches onto the fact that she’s not wearing a bra or underwear under my baggy clothes. Another part of my anatomy sits up and takes notice, too.
But seeing her relaxed and happy and content? It’s everything. My dick can wait.
At least until Kendall’s fed.
She scoops up another bite and closes her eyes in enjoyment. “Breakfast is so good it almost makes up for the fact that I can’t have coffee.” With a sigh, she continues. “Almost. I don’t mean to whine, but being without caffeine? My inner monster has zero chill.”
I almost made a pot of coffee out of habit, but thought better. Instead, I dug out tea and made two cups of decaf in solidarity. “Whine all you want, babe. You’re taking one for the team. Let me know what I can do to make you feel better.”
With a sigh, she smiles and goes back to her bowl o’oats. “Thanks.”
Score—Drew, 1.
Sipping my decaf tea, I sit back and take in downtown through my windows. “You know? We’ve never spent a normal day together. Not one. We’ve never even had a date.”
With a twist of her lips, she considers this statement. “You’re right. We’ve argued, and we’ve been stranded, but we’ve never had a regular day hanging out.”
While I don’t want to sound overeager, I ask, “Can we fix that? Today?”
Her lips tug up into a shy smile when she nods.
I try to be cool about this even though I’m psyched to be spending time with her. “We could do something crazy like spend the entire day together in civilization. I could shock you and take you out to lunch and a movie.”
“I don’t know,” she says, fake doubt in her voice. “That’s pretty wild.”
My voice lowers to a whisper. “I bet I’ve never shown you this secret side of me. Sometimes, I run errands.” I eye her meaningfully.
Mirroring my seriousness, she presses her palms to her cheeks in shock, Home Alone-style. “Holy shit! Who are you and what have you done with Drew?”
“Oh, I’m working on Drew 3.0.” I stiffen. “Shit.”
Setting down her mug, she pushes her eyebrows together and looks at me quizzically. “What’s wrong?”
“I just remembered something.”
“Which is?”
“Today’s my birthday. The big three-oh. I really am Drew 3.0.”
A wide smile takes over her entire face, making her delight visible. Her skin glows, and her eyes shine. She pushes away from the table and races into my lap, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a kiss. “Happy birthday!”
Having Kendall Greer in my lap, planting a big wet one on me, is the best birthday present I’ve ever received.
I go to kiss her back, but her expression turns mischievous, and she stifles a giggle.
With my mouth against hers, I ask, “What?” I kiss her more. Then she leans away.
She places one hand on each of my shoulders and gazes directly into my eyes. Her lips part. “I think you need Dirty Thirty sex for your birthday.”
Schooling my features into being serious, I nod. “Yes. Very much so.” Using my chin, keeping my eyes on hers, I indicate the remains of her breakfast behind her on the table. “How hungry are you?”
“Ravenous. But not for the last of this oatmeal.” I don’t need any further invitation and waste no time picking her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, and hauling her into my bedroom.
“I’m not sure why we bothered getting dressed,” I say against her lips as her tongue seeks mine.
“For the fun of taking it off?” Her hands rip into my hair, and I groan in pleasure. Settling her on my bed, I flip her T-shirt up and over her head, and pull off her sweats.
“Damn. That got you naked too fast.” I shake my head. “Never mind. There’s no such thing as ‘naked too fast.’”
My mouth begins to roam over her body, a deep rumble forming in my throat. My lips sucking her nipples as she gasps. Tongue licking down her torso. Teeth grazing her navel.
My fingers wend their way between her legs and part her, finding hot wetness.
Rubbing.
Caressing.
Enjoying how she responds to my touch.
Meanwhile, she reaches down to the hem of my shirt and tugs. I pause my exploration of her body to let it go flying across the room. Her hands travel over my shoulders, arms, chest. With legs spread wide, her hips reach for me, grinding, seeking purchase against my dick.
“Gotta taste your pussy, babe,” I mutter, moving down her body to dip down between her legs, throwing her thighs over my shoulders. My tongue darts out, and I take a long lick up the entire expanse, smelling the clean soap from her shower this morning and the slight bite of her natural flavor.
Fuck. I’m so hard I’m pulsing, but I focus on her.
“Need to taste more than that,” I continue. Pushing her knees backward toward her chest so her entire underside is exposed to me—thank you, K-doll’s yoga instructor—I begin licking every part of her I can find. Her slick, swelling pussy. Her taint. And I go down to her ass and begin loving on the tiny puckered part. Circling it. Darting around it.
“Oh—fuck,” she grunts. “I’ve never—”
Long strokes of my tongue interrupt her as she writhes. The fingers of my one hand enter her slick channel and stroke upward, aiming for that rough wall that I know brings pleasure, with my thumb insistent on her clit. Then I drift my other hand, coated in her arousal, lower, and press a finger into her asshole. And my face is everywhere—sucking, tasting, fucking wallowing in her.
Yeah, I’m dirty. I don’t care. I want her to come on my face. I don’t know how else to show her how I feel than to be no-holds-barred.
To show her I’m into her. In a
ll the ways.
As I keep going, between my fingers and my tongue, I sense her muscles bunching up. Her breathing getting tighter. The folds of her soft skin plumping. Blood rushing to all her sensitive parts.
She’s struggling to hang on, but I continue laving her with broad passes of my tongue. With the unrelenting rhythm of my fingers. Coaxing her closer and closer and closer.
Pretty damn fast, she comes, a cry of pleasure on her tongue, and her body trembling as waves pulsate through her.
But I keep going and don’t give up until she wails out my name, and I can tell the orgasm is wrung out of her.
Then I get up on my knees and gaze at her.
“Holy fuck, Drew. It’s your birthday, not mine.”
I wink. “Exactly.” Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my pants, I shove them down, along with my boxer briefs, and free my erection. Before she can move, I’m over her, ready to thrust my dick into her tight, wet pussy. I brace myself above her with my hands on either side. Thinking quick, I grab a pillow, shove it under her ass for a better angle, and go in.
“Fuck, yes,” I moan.
She holds me inside as we both throb.
I pause, joined with her.
Loving this.
Then I slide in and out slowly, groaning at the friction. The heat. The attachment of our bodies in the closest way possible.
She claws at me to move faster, and I comply.
From here, it’s a fucking free-for-all. Literally. I let go, pistoning into her. She matches my moves, her blue eyes lust-driven and her hands clutching my ass.
I couldn’t stop this motion—this emotion—the driving into her if I had to. I know I should go easier on her, but at this stage, I can’t. She doesn’t want me to either, judging by how she’s grabbing me and hanging on.
Can I get one more orgasm out of her?
Hauling her up, adjusting the angle again, I drag my hard cock along her walls, again and again, seeking her O.
Her eyes pop open wider when it’s about to hit. She’s going to come again.
“Come for me. Let me feel your beautiful cunt squeeze my dick. Milk it, babe,” I growl.