by Cassie James
I force my eyes open, but I turn away from Mateo. This is sinful. There’s a family sitting in front of us—not that they’re paying us any attention behind them.
Still, it’s wrong—but it feels so good.
I can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how close I already am to slipping in the abyss of pleasure. And I know that it’s going to take every single iota of my self-control because there’s nothing I’d like better in this world right now than to replace the vibrator with his fingers and cock.
But we’re at a goddamn hockey game, and I—
The world blazes around me and suddenly all I can focus on is keeping my breathing normal and my face straight as pleasure jolts through my body. I press my toes against the concrete floor and lift my heels, muscles tensing in my calves and thighs as the vibrating in my panties hits a whole new level.
And I may not be as strong as any one of the Storms, but there’s no way my lead grip on Mateo’s wrist doesn’t fucking hurt right now. I bite my lip, hard, but I can’t.
I just fucking can’t.
One of the Warriors’ players is racing over the ice, twisting and turning his body as he passes the puck to one of his teammates before taking control of it again. I’ve seen a set up like this a thousand times. He’s going to score. He winds back, he shoots, and…
“Yes!” I shout as the Warriors’ player scores, and heads swivel in our direction. The sweet older lady next to me glares like I just smashed her favorite porcelain cat, but I’m so lost in the way my body’s tingling and the way my pussy’s spasming that I almost don’t care that I’ll never be able to show my face here again.
I sag against the back of the seat when the vibe goes mercifully still, but I’m only still for a short second before I push myself up on my jelly legs. I tug on Mateo’s wrist as the Seals’ fans around us continue to glare, and my face flares bright ass red.
“We need to leave,” I whisper at him. He smirks up at me as he ambles to his feet, so I shove him in the direction of the aisle.
The vibrator starts again with relentless pulsing, and my legs almost give out right there. I pitch against Mateo’s back, the aftershocks of my earlier orgasm returning full force as he turns to catch me around the waist before I tumble ass over teakettle into the family in the row ahead of us.
I amend my earlier statement. “We need to leave now.”
The part where I tell him it’s because I plan to fuck him senseless in the back of his Jeep is communicated entirely with my eyes, but he seems to catch the drift. Mateo hauls me up the stairs quickly, shoving past the usher who tries to stop us from walking directly in front of the row of spectators by the walkway.
I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my grin and to stifle my giggles. The last thing I want right now is to give him anymore reason to prolong my sweet suffering. Not when he’s so close to giving me exactly what I want.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounds deceptively like Cara croons, “All I want for Christmas is duuuuuudes,” and I’m done. I giggle the rest of the way back to Mateo’s Jeep, and I don’t manage to stop laughing again until we’re parked just off some dark road on the outskirts of town and he’s tearing the vibrating panties off me.
Thank fuck for big… backseats.
Thirty-Three
Luis
December 17
I’m surprised to see the passenger side window of my truck down as I step off the curb and cross the parking lot with a warm cup in each hand.
Gemma’s leaning part way out the window, her dark ponytail waving in the breeze as she rests her head on the sill and watches my approach.
“My hero.” She blinks those long eyelashes of hers.
“Coffee as promised.” I hand a cup through the window as she rights herself.
She takes a quick sip then frowns.
“Tastes like chocolate.”
My lips quirk up to one side. “Ah, sorry. Wrong cup.”
I reach in and pluck the cup from her cradled hands to exchange it for the other one.
She raises her eyebrows at me, her eyes widening slightly. “You’re drinking hot chocolate?” Her eyes flicker from me to the coffee shop behind me.
I shrug my shoulders and lower my head to take a sip of my own drink. I close my eyes as I savor putting my lips over the exact spot where hers just were. I imagine it’s really her I’m tasting as my mouth fills with liquid chocolate.
Some women tease me for seeming like a big kid, but I’ve always had a soft spot for hot chocolate. My gran used to fix it for us kids on the stovetop up until she passed.
There were six of us, each only about a year apart or less since my parents made a habit of going at each other like rabbits.
I go around the other side of the truck and climb in, sharing the story of my gran’s hot chocolate with Gemma as I use the handle at the roof of the cab to lift into my seat with only one free hand.
“I didn’t even know you had siblings until today.” She looks over at me suspiciously as if I’ve been hiding them or something.
I shrug. “They too after our parents with all those kids of theirs,” I joke. “So they don’t make it around much. We see each other on all the holidays.”
“That’s sweet.”
She sounds a little rueful. I wonder if she wishes she’d had more than just her dad growing up, but I don’t dare ask her about it. She’s talked a bit about her family situation over the years, enough for us to know her womb-donor was a real piece of work. It’s obviously never been something she’s all that keen to dwell on, though.
I’m not going to make her think about that now. Not after we’ve had such a good few hours of Christmas shopping.
I’ve never been a big fan of shopping with all the crowds—but Gemma made it bearable. She’d only started to get antsy at the last store, when we’d been picking girly makeup shit out for my oldest niece. That was when I’d promised her coffee if she just helped me get through that last thing.
I pull out of the coffee shop parking lot and turn towards home. I feel lucky as hell that she agreed to stay the night with me. I have my suspicions that it’s more about her curiosity since she’s never seen my place before.
I hope she’s not disappointed.
“So what’s with the window?” I ask her as her hair whips around her while we hop on the highway towards my apartments.
The drive isn’t far, and really the chill outside isn’t unbearable today. I’m thankful for both of those things since she looks so at ease that I don’t dare ask her to put the window up again even as we accelerate until the cold air completely surrounds us inside the cab of my truck.
“Just using the December air to help remind me that this is real life and not a fairy tale.” I can hear the smile in her voice even without looking over to confirm it.
“I was sort of thinking it feels like both.”
She makes an agreeable noise.
I reach for her hand, resting our clasped hands on her thigh as we finish the short drive.
I’m the perfect gentleman as I jump out in the parking lot to open her door and help her out. I’ve been helping her in and out all day after I realized what a struggle it was for her at her height.
Plus, I’m not exactly complaining about the chance to casually grope her time and time again throughout our shopping date.
The moment of truth comes when we actually enter my apartment. I flick the light on the inside wall on but then gesture for her to walk in ahead of me. I’m wracked with nerves waiting for her reaction.
I’ve had women here before, and the reaction has always been the same. It weirds them out that the place is so barren.
Gemma takes in the white walls and limited furniture. I’m not one for accumulating a bunch of shit—probably a holdover from the limited space at home growing up—so I keep things sparse. I force myself to take a breath when I realize I’ve been holding it waiting for Gemma’s reaction.
She turns to me.
>
“Where can I set my stuff down?” she asks.
I blink at her for a minute before I answer, “Uh, the counter would probably be good,” and point towards the kitchen even though with the open floor plan she can clearly see it from where she’s standing.
She steps into the kitchen and sets her purse down and then ditches the coat she’s been wearing ever since the temperature outside started to drop.
I admire the way she looks surrounded by my fancy kitchen. It’s the one perk of not spending money on a bunch of bullshit toys and clutter—I could afford a kick ass place like this with its marble countertops and fancy appliances.
I’m a simple guy for the most part, but damn if I don’t like looking at all the shiny surfaces in this apartment and feeling proud of myself that I earned those.
I put myself through college on a coveted rugby scholarship. Back then, a scholarship to play rugby was practically unheard of. But it was the only way I’d gotten to go to college without juggling multiple jobs the way my siblings had been forced to do.
Our parents made decent money growing up, we didn’t exactly want for anything, but with six little devils running around, dear mom and dad certainly weren’t forking the cash out of pocket for us to get our degrees.
Gemma interrupts my train of thought when she lets out a low whistle. “This place is nice, Luis.” My chest puffs out a little at the compliment, especially because she hasn’t gawked at my lack of stuff.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, what’s this?” she asks, picking something up from counter.
She holds up the anal beads I’d left laying there earlier. The pink silicone flops about joyously while she waits patiently for me to explain what it is. I wondered if she’d ever done anything like that before—now I guess I’ve got my answer.
I never get worked up about anything. Hell, I was calm and collected doing Christmas shopping even with all the people and waiting in line we had to do.
But this, this right here is a potential disaster.
I’m an ass man. It was the first thing I noticed about Gemma. Literally, I happened to walk up on her introduction from behind her, so her ass was the first thing I got to see.
I didn’t expect to get an all-access pass to her ass on the first date or anything, but I had been overjoyed when we popped our boxes and I discovered I’d gotten the holy grail of sex toys.
I’ve had my fair share of fun with anal beads. I could make her feel good with them, too, I’m sure of it.
Unless she tells me right now that ass-play is a hard no for her. In which case I might as well quit the team because there’s no way I can stand to spend another season staring at that ass only to know I can never have it.
“Those are anal beads,” I finally explain with a calmness I don’t feel.
“Oh.” She puts it back down as if she’d be content never to see anal beads again in her life.
A few seconds separate the moment she sets them back on the counter from the moment she realizes exactly what this is.
“Luis?”
“Yeah?”
“Are the anal beads for me?” I watch her force a hard swallow as she blinks slowly.
I was an idiot for fantasizing that when this moment came, she’d just happily go along with it. I got my hopes up after hearing the other guys talk about how enthusiastic she was.
I should have known this would be different.
“No,” I reply flatly. I’ve got to get away from her before I do something stupid like break down and beg her to give it a chance. “Make yourself at home. I need a shower.”
She follows up my robotic statements with a protest that I ignore as I take long strides down the hall, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom.
I feel just as robotic as I sounded as I strip out of clothes and then step under the shower head only to turn the water as cold as I can stand it.
It feels like I’m punishing myself. Hell, maybe I am.
Gemma can’t help what she likes—or what she doesn’t. It’s not like the woman asked to be born with the perfect heart-shaped ass and hips just made for holding onto. It’s a cruel, cruel joke the universe seems to have played with that one.
I shove my head under the cold water and try to let the sting of the chill wipe my mind blank. After a few minutes, I’m pretty sure it’s starting to work until I hear the bathroom door creak open.
“Luis?” I barely hear her voice over the running water. I take a half-step out from the spray of the water and rub the water out of my eyes.
“Hm?”
“I’ve never...” she lets that part of her sentence trail off as she steps into the shower with me. “But I trust you.”
She holds the anal beads out to me.
She’s naked.
Gemma Mitchell is naked.
In my shower.
In my shower with me.
I stare from her to the anal beads and then back again. She looks so damn open and vulnerable standing there waiting for me to say something.
Shit, yeah, say something, you jackass.
I’m wracking my brain for words when Gemma finally decides she’s tired of waiting. The impact of her launching herself at me sends me reeling a few steps back into the near-freezing water. She had started to kiss me but the second the water hits her she shrieks and stumbles back.
“What the fuck!”
“Shit.”
I practically leap for the water controls and blast the heat until the water running down my back finally turns to a temperature that doesn’t threaten to ice my balls off. When I turn back to Gemma—anal beads still in hand—she’s staring at me with wide eyes.
“No wonder you never complain about ice baths if that’s how you take your showers,” she jokes.
“Uh, something like that.”
I grimace, not wanting to show my hand too much about the pity party I was having in here by myself before she turned up.
She gives me a knowing look but mercifully lets it go. She nods towards my hand.
“So is this like a shower thing or…?”
There’s one reliable thing about a woman who’s never had anything in her ass before—she’s going to worry about making a mess.
“Don’t worry about what might happen,” I try to reassure her. “Just let me help you feel good.”
They must be the right words because her whole body visibly relaxes as she nods.
I don’t bother stopping to turn the water off, now that I’ve got a green light it’s like that’s all that I can focus on. I cling to the beads with one hand while I offer Gemma my other to help her carefully step out of the shower.
Now that I know this is really going to happen, I take a second just to admire her. She’s fucking stunning. Truly.
I guide her to the nice marble vanity along the wall of the bathroom. It’s the sort of thing these apartments have for chicks to do their makeup or whatever—but this seems like a much better use of the space. I carefully guide her down face first towards it.
She hesitates at first, but as I carefully put pressure on her back with my hand, she slowly lowers herself down until her upper body is flush against the marble.
I put the anal beads next to her on the counter, watching the way her eyes track the movement. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her without giving her a chance to question me.
I make a beeline straight for my bedside drawer—the one in my singular nightstand—and come back with lube in one hand and a condom in the other. Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what I’m holding. Based on the equal mix of worry and relief in her eyes, I’m guessing she’s realizing right about now that she never even considered the need for lube.
“These adjust in size,” I explain to her as I generously pour lube over the beads, “so tell me if anything starts to hurt or be uncomfortable and I won’t put them in any further. Okay?”
“Mhm,” she murmurs.
Despite the limited reaction, I know she’s heard me from th
e way her eyes are studying me so closely. I keep explaining things to her, wanting to know exactly what I’m doing so there are no surprises for her.
“I’ll put these in for you slowly. And then I’m going to fuck you.” Her eyes flash with surprise and I realize she’s maybe misunderstood what I mean. I trail a hand up the back of her thigh and then slip it between her legs. “Just here for tonight,” I tell her as I stroke her pussy a couple of times.
She’s wet for me already. Really wet. I don’t think she’s as bothered by this as she acted at first. I’m just glad she’s not nervous and dried up like the Sahara desert.
That really would have been a fucking problem.
I force myself to stop touching her pussy and grab the lube again so I can squeeze a healthy amount out on the curve of her ass. Her whole body twitches in surprise as her eyes find me in the mirror while I stand behind her.
I use special care working the lube down between her ass cheeks and around her tight hole. I clear my throat and continue my explanations.
“I use water-based lube. It’s safe for the silicone and latex condoms. But if you start to feel like it’s too dry back here tell me and I’ll add more, okay? I’ll use up this whole damn bottle if that’s what you need to be comfortable.”
Her eyes start to close as she nods.
She’s ready for this, whether she realizes it or not.
I pick the anal beads up from beside her, feeling on top of the fucking world when the sound doesn’t make her flinch or even open her eyes. She’s completely relaxed and waiting for me.
It makes this next part easier as I carefully slip the tip of the toy into her ass. She jerks forward slightly at the intrusion at first, but then goes still again almost instantly. I give her plenty of time to adjust before I slip the first actual bead inside of her.
I hear her breath catch and pause to make sure she’s not going to protest. When it’s obvious nothing else is coming, I slip in another. And then a third and a fourth.
I’m so intent watching what I’m doing that I nearly miss the soft moan that escapes her as I work the fifth bead inside of her. She’s doing surprisingly well for someone who seemed so uncertain at first. Her body apparently didn’t have the same qualms about this that she had mentally.