The Duets

by Quinn, Meghan

  He’s inside me in one swift movement, hitting me deep inside.

  So full.

  So perfect.

  “Fuck, Rory. Always so good.” He starts to move his hips, his length dragging in and out of me at a leisurely pace, stretching me, and making me feel so impossibly good.

  I burrow my head into the mattress as his body leans over mine, his hands finding my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples. We’ve only spent a few days learning each other’s bodies, yet already he knows me, what I want, what I need.

  His touches are methodical, planned out, like he has a roadmap to my pleasure and how to make me scream his name in seconds.

  And I’m there as he rolls my nipples between his fingers, pulling and plucking.

  “Christ,” I moan, my eyes shut, my forehead resting on the mattress, his thick cock moving in and out of me.

  “Fuck, are you there?” he asks, grinding into me harder, picking up his pace.

  “Y-yes,” I stutter just as my pussy clenches around his cock.

  He groans into my ear, his hips stilling, my orgasm adding to his as we both fall over the edge together, pulse after pleasurable pulse searing through us.

  Colby presses a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades and passes his thumb over my nipple, soothing the ache for a few beats before standing and taking care of the condom. He comes back with a warm washcloth, cleans me up, and then cuddles me on the bed, pulling me into his chest as his arms wrap around me, his face buried in my hair.

  “Mmm . . . that’s one way to start the day.” I bring one of his hands to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wasn’t sure if I’d see you later today or tomorrow, and I wanted to give you a small Christmas present.”

  I turn in his grasp so we’re face to face, and I press my hand to his cheek. “You got me a Christmas present?”

  “It’s small.” He shrugs. “Don’t get too excited. I haven’t had to buy presents for anyone, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

  I twist my lips to the side, my brow creasing. “You haven’t bought a present for anyone? What about your grandpa?”

  He shakes his head. “He always tells me not to bother, says he just wants my company.”

  “Well, I could have taken your company too. I’m always looking for time with you.”

  His thumb trails down my cheek, to my lips where he tugs on the bottom one and says, “I wanted to get you something.”

  I kiss his thumb and smile. “Can I have it? Or did you just give it to me?”

  He chuckles. “The orgasms were the starter gift.”

  I rub my hands together as he moves across the bed to where his pants are on the floor. “If that was the starter gift, I can’t wait to see what you really got me.”

  He palms the gift in his large hand and lies down next to me. The way he’s biting on his lip, tells me he’s nervous.

  The man is six-foot-two, muscled to perfection, and looks shy to give me a present. Good Lord, he is adorable.

  “Well . . .” I dance my fingers over his bare chest. “Are you going to give me the gift?”

  “Uh, yeah. Here. It’s just something small,” he repeats, watching intently as I unwrap the little box.

  “Did you wrap this?” The Santa paper is really cute.

  “Yeah. Watched a video on YouTube about gift-wrapping. How did I do?”

  I pause in my pursuit to open the gift and stare into his eyes. How is it possible that this beautiful man with a gorgeous soul is experiencing so many firsts with me? How could he rise from a family that didn’t care about him and become the humbling and determined man he is today? It’s unbelievable to me.

  “You did a beautiful job, Colby. Thank you for putting so much thought and effort into this gift.”

  Blinking, his eyes connect with mine when he says, “Well, it’s you, Rory.”

  And that’s all he has to say, because those few words mean the world. He’s saying I’m worth it. Closing in, I capture his face and press my lips against his, our bodies molding together, his hand gripping my hip, pulling me in closer. I keep the kiss short, so when I put some distance between us, Colby groans in disappointment.

  “Let me open my gift and then we can do more of that.”

  He flips to his back but peeks over at me, a small smile on his face. “Just open it already.”

  Giddy, I tear open the rest of the gift and open a small black box. I then push back the black tissue paper to find a silver necklace with a matching fighter jet hooped through the strand.

  Before I can say anything, Colby props himself on his arm and says, “It’s so when I’m not with you, a little piece of me is. If you don’t like it, I can take it back. I understand if you don’t want to wear a plane around your neck, I just thought—”

  “Colby.” I clutch the necklace to my body and face him, my chest feeling tight, my throat squeezing and making it hard to talk. Through blurry eyes, I press my hand to his face and say, “I love this so much. Thank you.”

  “You do?”

  I nod, a tear falling from my eye. Reaching up, he brushes it away, and I can see pride washing over him.

  I hand it to him. “Will you put it on for me?”

  “Of course.” Sitting up, he takes the necklace from me, and I move my hair to the side so he can see better. When the necklace is clasped, he kisses my shoulder and wraps his arms around my midsection. “This journey we’re going to take isn’t going to be easy, but I want you to know that I will be thinking of you all the time. Even when I’m not with you. And now, maybe a part of me still is.”

  I hold the little plane and tilt my head to the side, melting into his kisses, in the way he feels wrapped around me, circling me with his strength. It might not be easy, but he’s right, no matter what, he’ll always be with me. I can’t get over how thoughtful he is.

  “Thank you.” Tilting back, I take his lips against mine and part his mouth with my tongue, thanking him in the only way I know how.

  He leans back on the bed, taking me with him, a giggle popping out of my mouth as we crash to the mattress. Moving out of his hold, I spin around and prop my hands on his chest, looking down at him, those dark chocolate eyes melting me into a puddle of lust.

  “Come to my house tomorrow. Meet my parents, meet my brother.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “You want me to come over and crash your Christmas?”

  “Yes.”

  He rubs my arms. “I don’t want to intrude. That’s your time with your family.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He pushes his hand through his hair. “Uh, waking up, probably working out, and then I’ll visit Gramps. They always have a Christmas brunch at his nursing home.”

  “What are you doing after?”

  He shrugs. “Hanging out in the pool house. Stryder’s family does their own thing. They always invite me, but I don’t want to intrude so I just hang out and read.”

  My freaking heart.

  “Please come over for dinner. I really want you to meet everyone.” I kiss his chest and then look up at him. “Please.”

  I move my body down his, knowing I have about ten minutes before I really have to get ready for work.

  “Please,” I say again, kissing each divot of his abdomen and then moving to just below his belly button. He sucks in a sharp breath as my hair dances over his thighs.

  “Fuck if I can ever say no to you.”

  Smiling, I move farther down and bring his cock to my lips, thick and heavy and primed and ready for me. Time for his early Christmas present.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  COLBY

  “Merry Christmas, Gramps.”

  “Colby, you’re here.” Gramps holds his arms out to me from his wheelchair, and I bend down to give him a hug, his friends in the community surrounding him. “You guys remember Colby, right?”

  Everyone says hi or waves, some of them more energetic than the others. Gramps mig
ht be slow-moving, but he still has his articulate mind. He’s sharp as a whip, can recount every detail of his flying days, and never forgets a memory he has with me.

  “Merry Christmas,” I say to everyone while taking a seat next to Gramps at his table. “Thanks for saving me a seat.” I pat him on the back.

  “Wouldn’t miss out on having Christmas brunch with my favorite boy. This might be our last for a while. Who knows if you’ll be able to get back here while you’re in flight school?”

  “I’ll do my best, you know that.”

  “I know. And I’m thankful. Why don’t you get us some food? You know what I like.”

  The line for brunch is long, with visitors grabbing plates for their loved ones, going for all the healthy things like eggs and fruit. But not me. It’s tradition. Christmas brunch consists of Gramps and me eating every pastry, donut, and croissant the brunch line offers as well as a plate of bacon. It’s really unhealthy, a meal I will spend the next three days trying to work off, but it’s our tradition. This will be our fourth year celebrating with carbs, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

  I bypass all the fruit and eggs, pile one plate with bacon and another with all the good stuff and then head to the table where there are pitchers of water and orange juice in the center. I pour us each a drink and take a seat.

  “Donuts look really good this year, Gramps. They had some fritters.”

  “Oh, we have to eat those first.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” I hand Gramps a smaller plate and a fritter and divvy one out for myself as well. While we start chowing down on our food, I ask Gramps, “How have you been?”

  “Good, good.” He points his fork at a table across the room, leaning in toward me. “See that broad over there with the red jacket and white-as-snow hair pinned to the top of her head?” I follow Gramps’s not-so subtle pointing fork.

  “Yeah. Is she your friend?”

  Gramps wiggles his eyebrows at me and takes another bite of his fritter. “She’s my bridge partner, has a bit of a crush on me. She’s been flirting up a storm.”

  I choke on my water, sputtering on his confession. Not once has Gramps talked about women with me, as he’s always professed his undying love for my grandma, who passed many years ago.

  I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “She’s been flirting with you, huh, Gramps? Wow, have you taken her up on the flirting?”

  He waves his fork at me as if I’m crazy. “No, but I let her get an eyeful every time we play bridge.” He leans in a little closer. “I undo the top buttons of my shirt for her.”

  “Oh shit,” I mutter, chuckling to myself.

  “What are you laughing at? I know how to win the ladies. Tell me, are you or are you not seeing that little chickadee after I helped you win her over?”

  I press my lips together, hating that he’s about to win this conversation. “I’ve been seeing her.” Fuck, I’ve been more than seeing her. Been tasting her, kissing her, sucking her, and been so far inside her . . .

  “See”—he raises his fork to the air—“I know women.” He takes another bite of his fritter and then says, “Tell me about her.”

  Sighing, I lean back in my chair and say, “She’s amazing, Gramps. Gorgeous and funny and so goddamn sweet. She gets me, never pushes me too far, and understands my baggage.”

  “You told her about your mom and dad?”

  I nod, surprising Gramps. “It felt so natural talking to her, telling her about my childhood. See, uh, she surprised me on my birthday and spent the day with me. We didn’t do much, but it was nice to have someone there on that day, holding me, caring for me.” To not feel completely alone with my grief.

  Gramps sets his fork down and grips my hand in his, the veins on the back of his hand defined and blue, bouncing off his aged skin. “You let her in.” He taps his heart.

  I nod. “I had no choice. It was like, overnight she wiggled herself under my skin and I couldn’t get her out. Hell, I don’t want to get her out. She’s . . . fuck, Gramps. She’s perfect.”

  “She’s the one, huh?”

  I rub the back of my neck, our feast forgotten for now. “It’s really early in our relationship, but I’ll tell you this. I could easily see her being the one.”

  Gramps nods and squeezes my hand, growing silent for a second. I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when he says, “After you told me everything that happened to you, I felt ill. I’ve never felt more sick in my life. I kept thinking about that sweet boy I loved to my very core, scared and alone.” He swallows hard. “It kills me, Colby. I . . . I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing the signs.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Gramps.”

  He shakes me off. “I should have known. But that’s beside the point. Ever since you told me, I’ve only wished one thing for you and it’s not flight school. I have prayed every night for you to find that special someone, for a girl to come around and sweep you off your feet, to accept you for who you are, and to soothe the scars gouged into your heart.” He lifts his hand to my cheek where he grips me closely. Brunch continues around us, but the voices of family members fade, as Gramps stares at me intently. “You’ve found her, Colby, and whatever you do, don’t let her go.”

  “I won’t, Gramps. I won’t.” I don’t think I could if I tried.

  * * *

  Fuck, I’m nervous.

  I thought I was nervous when I went to Rory’s apartment for the first time, but this surpasses that by leaps and bounds.

  I want nothing more than to meet Rory’s family, to see where she came from, but I’m not . . . shit, I’m not good at this. I’ve never had a girlfriend, let alone had to meet parents. But with Rory, it’s different.

  She’s different.

  There’s an air about her that makes me want to do things I don’t normally do, like buy presents. And not just for her, but also for her parents and her brother.

  Which only adds to the nerves racing through me, because what if they don’t like them? Hell, what if her brother hates what I give him? Is that going to be a deal-breaker for Rory? Fuck, will it? What if Bryan doesn’t like me? Will she break up with me? I know her brother is her world, so will his view on me make a difference?

  I did some reading on autism last night, but there was so much information, I was overwhelmed. There was no hope of preparing myself. I feel like I’m going in blind, and that doesn’t bode well for me. I like to be prepared at all times, because it helps ease the anxiety deep within me.

  Taking a deep breath, holding the bag of presents I have in my hands, I knock lightly on the door like Rory told me to do.

  I wait a few beats before the door swings open, and Rory stands on the other side wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a snowman on it, jeans, and fuzzy slippers. Her hair is curled and blankets her shoulders, long and silky . . . enticing. And that smile, made for me, shines bright as she pulls me into a hug.

  “Merry Christmas, Colby.” Standing on her toes, she kisses my cheek and pulls me into the house the rest of the way, shutting the door behind me.

  The modest ranch house is deceiving from outside, because the moment I step into the entryway, I’m surrounded by a warm, loving home with pictures of Rory and Bryan scattered across the tan walls. A large and beautifully decorated Christmas tree glimmers in the open and spacious living room, and the kitchen off to the right is decorated in holly garlands with twinkle lights, creating a magical atmosphere I haven’t seen or been a part of since before my dad passed. This is how Christmas used to be.

  Gingerbread cookies are stacked high on a platter.

  Christmas music chimes in the background, softly to not be intrusive.

  A candle burns in a hurricane glass surrounded by a wreath.

  And there are two parents, arms holding each other at their sides, wearing matching sweaters and great big smiles on their faces as they approach.

  “Colby, we’re so happy you could join us for dinner.” Rory’s mom comes up to me and pulls me into
a hug. “Oh, he’s a strong one.” She winks at Rory who blushes.

  “Colby, pleasure to have you in our home.” Rory’s dad takes my hand in his, firm but welcoming. “Aurora has told us nothing but great things about you. Congratulations on making it into flight school. What an amazing accomplishment.”

  “Thank you, sir. And thank you for welcoming me into your home tonight. It means a lot to me.”

  Mrs. Oaks coos and clasps her hands together. “Oh, he’s so sweet. Why don’t you two make yourself at home in the living room while Mr. Oaks and I finish carving the turkey and putting the final touches on dinner?”

  “Can I offer you any help?” I ask, knowing full well I have zero experience in the kitchen, but it’s the polite thing to do.

  Mrs. Oaks squeezes my forearm reassuringly. “We’ve got everything covered. Go relax with Rory.”

  Her parents head toward the kitchen, and Rory takes my hand in hers, guiding me to the leather sectional that surrounds the Christmas tree and fireplace.

  When we sit, I set my bag next to me and whisper, “Your name is Aurora?”

  She scoots in close, her legs tucked under her, and that damn smile is so contagious. “My dad is the only one who calls me that, but yes, it is.”

  “It’s a hot name.”

  Her eyes widen, her brows shooting to her hairline. “Oh my God, you can’t call me that. It’s what my dad calls me.”

  Leaning forward, I whisper in her ear, my hand on her thigh. “So if I call you Aurora while I’m coming inside you, that’s not going to work for you?”

  Shyly, Rory looks up at me, eyelashes fluttering, a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks. “Colby . . .”

  The way she whispers my name—a short breath escaping her—turns me on immediately, and I have to pull away from her before I embarrass myself at her parents’ house.

  “Come with me,” she says, pulling on my arm. “I’m going to show Colby the rest of the house. Be right back,” she says to her parents who give us both a knowing look.