by Cd Brennan
“Aye.”
Chapter 15
She looked so beautiful tonight. She was always beautiful, but tonight especially. A blue-green dress whose material flowed around her body, one that she covered up most of the time. Her legs, shapely and the color of cream. Her breasts. God, he wanted to touch. Her collar bone, so defined and delicate he wanted to kiss along the length. She had makeup on tonight, and the change in her had Rory amped and primed, so ready to take if she wanted to give.
Rory hadn’t been the only one to notice. Quite a few prowlers on the team had eyed her like she was a piece of meat to be devoured. She didn’t seem to care, but Rory did. And even though he was loath to take her away from a party she’d barely spent any time at, when she suggested it, he couldn’t get her out of there fast enough. Selfish, he wanted her all to himself. The Blues could stuff it. Everything else was for them, but tonight, Rory wanted Grace.
Jenn had left his coat somewhere at the banquet, so he didn’t even have that to offer Grace when he found she’d left hers in her truck. So he wrapped her in his arms for an awkward walk to the car. She complained, batted at him that she was fine, but Rory wouldn’t have it. In the past, he would have conceded, but not tonight.
The truck was around back, thankfully in the shadows outside of the parking lot lights. Rory would drive Grace’s precious truck. He’d barely sipped on his third beer, and he’d had a big dinner. And he wanted to drive for Grace, to take care of her.
When he asked, she countered with, “Do you know how to drive a three-on-the-tree?”
“Aye.” He didn’t, but he could figure it out. All the cars he drove back home were manuals, so it couldn’t be that hard.
Grace looked skeptical but dug her keys from her purse. The keychain was heavy with an assortment of keys and accessories—a bottle opener, a rabbit’s foot, a feather of some sort, a small, colorful fish. It was dark so he couldn’t see the rest. He wanted to ask her what all the keys unlocked, but she pulled out the one for the truck and held it out to him, the rest of the mess hanging from the one key.
“It’s the same key for the ignition and the doors.”
Rory stuck it in the keyhole and turned, hoping to open the door for her in a sweeping romantic gesture, but the key wouldn’t budge. He tried turning it the other way.
“Here,” Grace said, “let me get it. It’s a bit tricky. You have to wiggle it.”
So much for his gesture. He handed it over to her and stepped back.
She also tried, but it still didn’t work. “It’s probably because it’s so cold outside. Sometimes I have to go through the passenger door.”
She walked around the hood of the truck, Rory following. Just past the headlights, Grace turned her ankle and stumbled. Rory was right there at her elbow to help her up.
“It’s these damn shoes. I’d take them off but the ground is all frost, and I’d freeze my little toes off.”
As she tried the key in the passenger door, Rory moved up behind her. The thought of her cold drove him mad. He was itching to take care of her. He wrapped his body around hers, hugging her tight.
Grace stopped and leaned back into him, the key and chain still dangling from the keyhole. He touched one hand to her stomach, the other to her breast and pulled her into him. She gasped, a small sound, but Rory heard it.
He slid one hand down to her crotch and pressed, his other hand squeezing her breast. When he pushed his hardness into her back, she groaned and wrapped her hand back behind his neck. That movement exposed her neck. Rory started at her dress strap and with small, sucking kisses worked his way up to her ear. He nibbled on the shell while pressing himself into her bum.
He wanted so badly. From the first day she had stepped into his life. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she was feeling the same. Did he make her feel as good as she did him?
He needed to know. He pinched her nipple. She groaned. He rubbed her mound with the palm of his hand and she gasped again, moving her hips into his hand. Yes.
He sucked on her neck hard.
“Rory, we should go.”
He stilled. She was right. He released her body gently. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re always sorry, but you do nothing wrong.”
She clicked open the lock with a loud thunk and then handed the keys to Rory. “I’ll unlock your door from the inside.”
He waited until she slid in and then closed her door behind her. That earned him a smile, and she pressed her hand to the window.
He touched it briefly before he jogged around the truck where she had already unlocked the door. His body was shaking from need. Or perhaps the cold. Perhaps both. But the discomfort was huge. His dick hard, his body trembled in jerks, like it did sometimes when he was falling asleep.
Grace had already started the truck and had jacked up the heater. She sat in the middle, her jacket draped over her like a blanket. He buckled in and then asked, “Is there a buckle for you?”
She lifted her coat to show an old-style strap across her waist. That was good enough. He couldn’t have her so far away on the other side of the truck cab. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The shifter was on the steering column and when Grace noticed him studying it, she said, “It’s actually not that hard. There are only three gears. It’s now in neutral. For first, pull it toward you and down one, for second, pull forward and up past neutral to the top, and then for third pull forward and just past neutral. That’s drive and the hardest to find.”
Rory eased off the clutch and onto the gas at the same time, but the engine only revved, didn’t move.
“Oh, you have to take off the emergency brake, the lever high up on the left side.”
Rory felt around with his hand and finally found it. But now he needed the reverse. This was taking way too long. All he wanted to do was touch Grace, be inside her, make them both feel good. Hopefully. At least this whole balls with the truck had succeeded in relieving the discomfort in his groin.
“Reverse is all the way down at the bottom. Put in the clutch.” Rory did, and then she popped the shifter forward and yanked it down to the bottom of the steering column. “Okay, ready.”
Rory wanted to say something to Grace, something special, but he didn’t have the words. Instead he waited for her to look at him and then kissed her on the mouth. While she’d explained the technicalities of shifting three on the tree, he’d wanted badly to kiss her. It was such a turn on to hear someone talk about something they were passionate or knowledgeable about. And now he could. A small kiss turned into more with his urging. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, and again. As the kiss grew more heated, he grabbed the back of her head to hold her there. But when he moved in his seat to get a better position, he accidentally released the clutch, and the car jerked and stalled.
Grace laughed. “C’mon already, let’s go.”
Rory started up the truck again.
“Be careful with my Bluey. I love her.”
And I love you, Grace. That’s what he felt now. Didn’t think about it too much. That’s what his gut was saying. “I will.” He squeezed her hand to reassure her and finally pulled out of the parking lot.
They said little on the way back. Her truck got two FM stations, hard rock or easy listening, of which she had chosen the latter. On Saturdays, the Lite station resurrected a Top 40 of the 1980s. Some guy named Casey Kasem was hosting, a fellow with a unique voice. But she’d kept it low, barely a murmur in the background.
To Rory, they sat in a cocoon, only him and Grace. The cab of the truck was small and enclosed them in a space that seemed disjointed and separate from the rest of the world. Her headlights didn’t penetrate far, so the dark roads and soft music and his arm around Grace combined to create a snippet of time and place that he would remember forever.
Grace had kicked off her shoes, had cuddled into Rory, and only interrupted their comfortable silence when she directed him where to turn. By the time they arrived in Traverse City, Grace had relaxed, her head on
his shoulder, her legs stretched out on the bench seat. In the passing of a street light, Rory saw that her eyes were closed. Didn’t she say she had slept earlier? How could she sleep again?
Rory was amped, his body still buzzing even after the half-hour drive. He pulled into their driveway and parked next to Del’s old beater, and she still didn’t wake. “Grace,” he said quietly. “We’re here.” No reaction. She must be tired. “Graaace,” he murmured and shook her gently.
She stirred, and then her eyes popped open.
“Are you okay?”
She sat up, rubbing her cheek briskly with her hand. “Yeah, sure, just sleepy.” The jacket had slipped off to reveal her bare shoulders.
“Stay right there.” Rory hopped out and jogged around the front of the car to open her door. Her hair was mussed, and she still had sleepy eyes that she blinked in the brightness of the dome light.
“Here, I’ll carry you in.”
“Don’t be silly. I have my shoes”—she looked around—“here somewhere.”
“C’mon, yous, hop in.” Rory held his hands out like a cradle. But she only laughed. A week ago he would have given in and let her walk, but something had happened to Rory with Grace around, as if he’d grown some cojones, as Grace would say. He felt the need to take charge. He had been taught to be a gentleman, and rarely did he stray from that, but Grace deserved even more, any heroic effort he could give her. As she was scooping her shoes off the floor of the cab, he grabbed her around the torso and dragged her to the door where he picked her up, her shoes dangling from one hand, her heavy bag the other.
“Rory Cameron!”
He backed out and then pushed the door closed with his rear. “I won’t hear of it. I’ll carry yous in.”
“Oh, well if you put it that way.” She hooked her arms around his neck and held on as he strode with her up the pathway to the door. He had to set her down to hand her the large set of keys. It would take an hour for him to find the right one for the door.
Once her feet touched the ground, she grabbed his arm and stepped into his space, her breasts pushing into his chest. “Thank you. I’ve never been carried before.”
Rory became shy then with her standing right in front of him, his bravado from before gone as quickly as it had come to him. He shrugged. “I didnae mind.”
Grace smirked at him as if she knew and unlocked the front door. “I am feelin’ awful tuckered out again.” She yawned and made an exaggerated stretch of her arms. “Perhaps my knight in shining armor could assist me upstairs?”
For sure! When Rory scooped her up again, she squealed. Just like a girl. He’d bank that and give her shit later. But right now, a rumpled and sexy Grace in a slinky dress had his dick up again, and he needed to get them back to where they’d left off at the inn. He’d never been so turned on by a woman. Even that first night. He had blamed it on the drink, but underneath the alcohol there was something there. Had been all along.
Even with her in his arms, he took the stairs two at a time and then turned toward her room at the top.
Her “not my room” stopped him short, and he pivoted toward his own.
“Sorry, it’s just a bit messy. Not the most romantic spot.”
He didn’t care where it was as long as he could have her. He pushed open his door with her feet out front, walked through, and then shut the door. Into pitch blackness. He stood there with her in his arms, the only sound their breathing, until his eyesight adjusted and he carried her to the bed.
He had no idea how to go about romance. He wasn’t suave like Del or famous like Irish. He was just Rory. Should he put on music? Light candles? He didn’t have any of those. He could put on his small flashlight for ambience, but ach, that wouldn’t do.
Grace decided for them when she reached for him.
He lay down on top of her and kissed her, then slid his hand up her thigh. So soft. He turned more aggressive on her mouth, dancing his tongue with hers, sucking her bottom lip. He couldn’t help himself and rolled his dick into her cunt. Grace groaned and pushed up against him when he did it again. He needed so badly that he wouldn’t last long.
But he wanted Grace to come first. He needed her to. Rory broke their kiss and slid his hands down her chest, pausing a minute to squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples, causing her to gasp and arch up toward him. He needed to slow things down, but he was struggling as it was.
He pushed one dress and bra strap down her arm, and then the other side the same. Her chest heaved. He grasped the front of her dress and crumpled it in his fist before dragging it down with her bra cup. From the pale light, her one breast glowed stark and beautiful, the nipple dark like chocolate. Dipping his head, he hesitated. Her nipple was right there, his breath most certainly making it pucker, but he felt unworthy to partake in such a private piece of her existence. Her breast was round and full, the nipple moving back and forth with each of her inhales.
Grace arched up until her nipple touched his lips. And then there was no hesitation. He sucked deeply, which elicited a groan from Grace. He licked, using the tip of his tongue to lightly flick the nipple. When he did, Grace gasped out his name and pulled him down tightly to her chest. He felt the same. He needed to suck, and she wanted him to, the connection, the pressure of his tongue, the girth of her breast in his mouth.
But he needed to breathe. He dragged his hands down her sides past her stomach to her thighs. He shifted back for a better angle and lifted her legs so they were bent on the bed.
So luscious. So smooth. So edible. When he looked up, Grace was watching him, her eyes glassy, only a gleam of the pupils reflecting from the street lights through the blinds. He pushed the dress up her legs, past her belly and bra, and tugged to get it over her head. She sat up to help, but then thankfully lay back down again. Her bra was a simple black, and her knickers striped.
Nothing too fancy, but beautiful against her pale skin. He was kneeling on the bed with Grace in front of him, her arms now relaxed at her sides. No music, only peace. Rory would have liked to stay like this for a bit, or perhaps bottle it up for another time. But his heart was in juxtaposition to his body, who wanted Grace physically as much as mentally. His testicles heavy with lust, he sat back onto his heels.
“Rory, everything all right?”
Mesmerized by her body, by the moment, he wanted to make it great for her, but didn’t know how.
“Aye. You’re beautiful.”
There was no reply so he kissed her. But when he did, he tasted a salty wetness, and even through the haze of his desire knew he had made her cry.
Grace replaced the cups of her bra to cover herself. Oh, no. Please, Grace, don’t do that. No. No. Please. “I’m sorry.”
“Ugh, Rory, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I hate that you always apologize.” Grace tugged gently on his arms, so he obeyed and lay down between her legs. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed.” Rory supported himself on his elbows. Grace slid her hands up and down his back. She sniffed. “Give me a minute.”
A minute felt like eternity since his dick rested right at her opening. And it took all his strength not to roll into her again. But he’d wait for Grace. Even if she didn’t want this at all.
He kissed her gently on the forehead. He didn’t know what to do to make this right. And in his embarrassment couldn’t get himself to look her in the eyes so he kissed her nose, then each cheek. He kissed her chin and then along her jawline, keeping them light. When he got to her ear, he would have loved to have sucked on Grace’s lobe, her earring and all, take it into his mouth, but instead he tucked his face into her neck and let his weight rest on top of her.
Even though Grace hugged him tight, he worried. “Am I too heavy?”
“No. Stay right there.”
“Would you like music?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.”
“I don’t have candles or anything…”
Grace chuckled, her chest vibrating against his own. “I didn’t even think of ca
ndles.”
Then what? Rory played with her hair, pushing it away from her face. He caressed her face until she closed her eyes. Her lashes lay thick on her cheeks, dark half-moons like the Venus fly trap.
She took a deep breath that lifted their bodies in unison. And still his dick was hard against her down there. If only he could will himself to go soft. Rory thought about moving, shifting to the side and spooning her, but no matter what he did, it would break the moment. So he waited. Pecking soft kisses on her face, always returning to her lips to see her response.
On the second pass, Grace deepened the kiss, her tongue licking his own, causing another reflexive roll of his hips. He swore under his breath, but Grace squeezed his bum and pushed him into her. Oh God, yes. She did it again, and this time he rubbed up her mound so that she groaned into his mouth.
He rolled into her again and again, his pace quickening as much as he wanted to keep it slow. He needed skin. In a swift movement, he jerked upright and yanked down his skiddies, kicked them to the floor. He pulled Grace’s knickers off, too, and when her hair was exposed, he ran his fingers through the soft curls, now damp from her own desire.
Rory had done that. He. Himself. No other man. He rubbed his fingers up and down her crease.
“Softer,” she said.
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Grace was struggling with her bra, trying to take it off. She’d removed the straps and was trying to twist it around to get to the clasp. Rory helped, lifting her slightly off the bed and twisting the fabric around her chest. He wanted to tear the fucker off. He’d buy her another one. But she’d already worked it free and placed it to the side.
In all her nakedness, she lay beneath him. Her chest heaved, but the rest of her was still. All creamy skin. He wanted to touch everywhere, kiss it all. Taste. Suck. But his hand would only go to her cunt again where he gently ran two fingers up and down over her clit. Is that how you like it, Grace? Is that what you want?
When she fingered her own nipples, he grabbed her thigh hard and shoved his middle finger inside her. She threw her head back on a gasp, closed her eyes. Fuck, he’d come soon just watching her. He fucked her with his finger, watching her tweak her own nipples, rubbing the buds with her fingertips. Fuck, he was so hard.