by Julia Swift
He runs a hand through my hair, pulling it back from my face to gaze down at me, at my bare tits, my chest, my neck, my face, my lips, my eyes, everything. “Sloan you are fucking perfect,” he breathes.
I reach for him, just as we hear loud footsteps outside the car.
The windows have steamed enough that we’re probably not visible, mostly. But we both jerk upright, as I yank my shirt back into place and button my jeans, Gage doing the same beside me. We’ve barely managed to slide back into our respective seats when the driver’s door opens and my brother peeks his head inside. He glances between us, a sardonic twist to his lips, like he knows exactly what just fucking happened, but he’s not going to be the one to say.
“You want to drive for the approach?” he asks, eyes on Gage.
“Can do.” Gage’s eyes find mine one last time, a sparkle in them, and a faint smile on his lips, as he slips out his door to cross over to the driver’s seat, as my brother climbs into the passenger side.
I know how he feels. Even now, the aftershocks of that orgasm pulse through my veins, relaxing me. We can do this. We are doing this. We’ll make it through this day just fine.
And after that?
Well. After that, I’ll still have him.
Chapter Forty-One
Gage
Border patrol turns out to be a breeze. The guard doesn’t even ask us any questions as we pass through. He just glances at our passports and flashes all three of us a huge smile. “Welcome home.”
I try to tamp down the tremor in my hands as I accept the papers. I know the guy who forged them well; he’s done stellar work for me in the past and on far less notice, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. But somehow, some part of me is still amped up, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this whole thing to turn sour.
Part of me is expecting to lose her all over again.
I have a feeling it’s going to take me a while to get used to having everything I could ever want or need. I glance in the rearview as we speed toward Montreal, and I can’t fight the smile that breaks out, watching her doze against the car door, her perfect face relaxed and at peace, at last.
“You better treat her well, man,” Freddie speaks up from the passenger seat.
I startle. I’d thought he was asleep, based on the way he’s slouched in his chair, chin drooping on his chest. But I guess he’s having the same problem I am. Too much pent up adrenaline to relax yet.
“Like a queen,” I promise him, my gaze darting to the rearview again, drawn irresistibly to her, to her soft, beautiful features and her gorgeous body and the fire and spark in her.
Freddie shifts in his seat, leans against the door now. “I’d offer the usual sibling threats, but somehow I have a feeling, with you I don’t need to.” He glances at me, and half-smiles in the pre-dawn light. “You know what she’s worth.”
“Believe me,” I tell him. “I really, really do.”
We pull up at the hotel around eleven in the morning. Old town Montreal, a little bed and breakfast deal, because I don’t much like the idea of staying in some big corporate hotel when we’re aiming to lie low.
Sloan finally stirs from the deep sleep she’d fallen into after our reunion this morning, and stretches like a cat, her back arching from the seat. It immediately fills my head with a dozen other ways I could make her back arch like that, and I have to take a deep breath before I climb out of the car, lest my imagination run away with me.
Plenty of time for that soon.
We check in, asking for two rooms, and without a question or a single word, Freddie heads up to his room, leaving Sloan and I with the key to the master suite that the bubbly, very solicitous woman at the front desk offered us.
We push open the door to our room, which is huge considering the size of this B&B, with a giant king-size bed, a couch in the corner, and a whole mini kitchen. We don’t waste time admiring the view, though. At least, not the view of the room.
The instant the door slams behind us, I have her in my arms, lifting her up, walking us backwards until we fall across the bed. I tear her clothes off, stripping every inch of fabric from her, because I want to feel every inch of her skin against mine. When I lay down along her, it’s with a sense of finally coming back home, after far too long away. I run my hands over her perfect tits, her stomach, her hips, her thick thighs, just waiting for my fingers to sink into them. I slide down her body, licking her throat, between her tits, tasting myself on her skin still because we haven’t even made it to the shower yet, and I fucking love tasting myself on her, knowing she’s mine, I’ve claimed her. I trace her nipple with my tongue, let my teeth sink into her soft flesh and savor the gasps and groans she makes. Every sound she lets out kills me, it’s so fucking sexy.
I work down her body, over her stomach, flicking my tongue into her navel, grinning when she squirms at that. I nibble at her hips, her thighs, the inside crook where her leg meets her hipbone. I shove her legs open wide, pinning her against the bed, and I lap at her, my tongue delving deep into her folds, the salty, savory taste of her filling my senses.
I lick and suck at her until she cries aloud, and then I keep going, taking her to the peak again and again. I cannot get enough of her. I never will.
I’ll never have to, now.
When I finally slide back up her body to let my eager, painful erection sink into her tight, pulsing pussy, I know that now, more than ever, I am finally home. And when I finish and I sink to the bed beside her, spent, and she’s still panting from her own orgasms, I drape my arm around her waist and pull her in close against me.
“You know I never would have let him touch you, Sloan. I would have torn the whole world apart to save you. When I saw you sitting on that couch, tied up like that . . . ” My voice fails, but she turns in my arms to press a kiss to my cheek, her eyes glistening.
“I know. Everything you did, everything you went through . . . ”
“I can’t make excuses for myself, Sloan. I can’t offer you a better man, the man you probably deserve. But I can tell you that I will be so much more for you than I have ever been before. I’m leaving Aaron, all of that shit behind me. From here on, I live for you, and no one else.”
She runs her hands through my hair, her fingertips grazing the back of my neck, in a way that drives me wild. In a way that makes me want to roll her over and sink into her again and again. I will never be able to get enough of this woman. And that’s just the way I want it to be.
“I’m yours, Gage,” she whispers. “From the moment we first kissed, I knew it had to be you. It is you. No matter what. Nothing will tear us apart again.”
And then I give into the urge, I pull her against me and kiss her soft bow lips, intertwine my tongue with hers, and slide my hands down her perfect body, ready to make her come.
Chapter Forty-Two
Sloan
Montreal, as it turns out, is an adorable city. An adorable, welcoming, warm, friendly open city, with plenty of rental options available in our now-much-extended budget, thanks to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Gage rents a townhouse in the historical district, behind the city walls, on a cobblestone street, where the apartments and houses are all covered in climbing ivy, built from stone, warm and cozy in the chilly spring evenings.
Freddie, for his part, likes a suburb close to the city, but not quite within the wall. His apartment is modern, very pretty with its hardwood floors and brand new appliances. But it’s a little cold for my taste.
So I went with Gage.
Not that there was really much choice there. Part of me always knew, from the moment we survived our ordeal, that it would be him. Fate brought us together, and our persistence kept us together despite the storm of problems the world threw at us.
I think about that now, as I pace through the rooms of our new residence. Gage ran out for groceries and to drop off an application at an auto body shop down the road that’s hiring. I guess he knows a thing or two about cars, having kept th
em as a hobby. Now that he’s not tied into working for a sketchy creep, he can finally do something he actually enjoys.
I smile and trace my hands over the sun-drenched kitchen counter. It’s got an eat-in table, and connects to an equally sunny living room, with a huge bedroom in the back, a skylight overhead so at night you can lie there and look up at the stars between the two big oak trees on either side of the house. We’ve only been here a month, yet already it feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve ever lived.
Possibly the way we broke it in helped. I pause at the entrance to the living room, glancing at the big balcony overlooking the backyard, and remember the time a couple days after we got here, when Gage bent me over that, thrusting into me from behind, so hard I couldn’t help crying out as I came, which earned us a few good-natured shouts from the neighbors.
I think we’ve had sex in every single room of the house by now, with the possible exception of the coat closet. Hmm. We could try to fix that.
My mind drifts off into daydreams, which is why I don’t hear at first when the front door opens. I’m walking back into the kitchen when a pair of strong arms catch my waist and swing me onto the counter. I gasp, but only in faux-shock, because Gage is already necking kisses along my weak spot, right at the crook of my neck, and hell, I can’t resist him when he’s like this.
Who would want to?
“Good trip to the store?” I ask with an eyebrow raised, grinning down at him from my newfound perch on the counter.
“I got the job. At the shop.” He grins up at me, so open and carefree that I laugh too, and dip down to press a kiss to his lips.
“That’s great, babe.”
“Starting tomorrow. So, I won’t be here to bother you as much, sadly.” He squeezes my ass with one hand, tight enough to make me yelp.
“However will I survive?” I respond with a smirk.
“Mm, well, we’ll just need to make up for lost time. In advance.” He leans into me, pressing me down along the counter, my back digging into it. I wrap my legs around his waist and grin up at him.
“What did you have in mind?”
His hands slide up my skirt, wrinkling it up around my waist. “I think it might be better if I show you.”
“Hmm. That seems acceptable.” I smirk at him.
Without warning, he flips me over, landing a sharp smack on my ass. I cry out, and he leans over me to press his body along mine, his heat radiating along my spine. I squirm against the counter, but he pins me with his weight and traces both hands over my ass, making me shiver with anticipation.
“Acceptable. Is that it?” Without warning, his palm slaps my bare ass cheek, hard. I cry out.
“Maybe . . . a little more than acceptable?” I flash him a grin over my shoulder.
He pins me to the counter with two firm, strong hands. “Oh, I think we can do better than that.” The hard bulge of his cock presses into my pussy, right at my clit, and I burn with desire for him. But as he unzips his jeans, and lets his cock trace over each of my ass cheeks, taking his slow, sweet time, and then dragging his length along my slit, from my clit all the way up to the cleft of my ass and then slowly back down, I start to pant, unable to contain myself.
“Someone’s eager,” he murmurs, with a restrained laugh in his voice. “Don’t you want to know what I had planned?” His hand drops, almost absently, to grip my hip. Work its way slowly across my body, toward my swollen, eager pussy.
“Does it involve you fucking me right now?” I reply, my voice breathy with want.
“Mm, somewhat.” His hand reaches my clit, swirls around it, his finger never quite touching the central spot, driving my crazy nonetheless. I rock against the counter trying to press him against me, but that only earns me another sharp slap on the rear.
“Ah, ah. Patience.” He’s grinning. I don’t need to see his face to be able to hear the smirk in his voice.
God, I hate when he gets like this.
And by hate. I mean I love it.
I sigh deeply. “If you’re not going to—ohhh,” I break off, as he presses something deep into my wet pussy.
Something, not his finger, or his cock, which I can still feel digging into my bare ass cheek.
I glance down at myself, and realize he’s gotten a dildo, slicked up with lube, the size of his cock, and he’s gently gliding it in and out of me now, in a slow rhythm. I grit my teeth, and suppress a shudder of pleasure.
As he starts to pick up the pace, driving it deeper into me, I gasp, and he bends over me, one hand fished in my hair. He leans close to my ear, his voice deep and feral. “Don't worry. You’ll get me too.”
I feel his warm, rock-solid cock brush over my bare ass, and this time I can't help the shiver of anticipation that runs through me, a mixture of nerves and excitement that puts me even higher on edge. Right here, bent over like this, I am his to do with as he pleases, and I could not enjoy more the sensation of giving myself up to him.
His cock slides between my ass cheeks, leaving a wet trail of lube between them, as he presses at my rear entrance. Gently at first, then harder, harder, and I gasp, trying to relax, which is hard when he's still fucking me with the dildo, brushing over my G-spot every couple of strokes and making me clench around it.
I take a deep breath and let myself go, giving up to him completely. He presses into me now, an inch at a time, every inch of his cock making me feel stuffed to the brim, and yet he keeps coming, until I cry out from the rush of sensations.
God.
I've never felt anything like this before. My head swims as he finally drives the full way into my ass, and he pumps the dildo into me again, his thumb flicking over my clit. It takes every ounce of control I possess not to come right there, that second.
I hold on, wanting to let this build. And oh, god, build it does.
This is what I want. Him, taking me, completely. This is where I belong. This is what I had been missing, all the time I never knew I was missing a thing.
He fucks me slowly at first, then harder, driving deep into my ass. He drags the dildo across my G-spot and I can't hold it in any longer, the orgasm shatters through me, making me scream his name. He keeps going, leaves the dildo stuffed in me, grabs my hips in his right fists and thrusts hard into me. I press back at him, straining against his thrusts, and in a few more quick, deep drives, he groans my name, his cum shooting deep into my ass, a warm rush of hot pleasure.
“Sloane.”
He leans across my back, panting, and a rush of satisfaction piles on top of the orgasm that's still echoing through me. I love making him do that. Call my name out, like he's just as helpless to resist me as I am him.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Gage
Long day at the shop. Productive, and busy, which meant that the time seemed to fly by, but now, as I trudge home, I’m suddenly aware of how much time has passed, and how much I’ve been running around like a maniac since I arrived for my shift at ten this morning. At this point, I’m looking forward to collapsing with Sloan on the couch, maybe catching up on the latest couple episodes of that show she got me hooked on, which I haven’t had time to watch since my boss took on a whole boatload of new clients and things hit the fan there.
I wipe sweat from my brow as I reach our house—who knew Canada in late summer would still be so warm?—and hesitate at the door. That’s weird. There’s a little ribbon tied around the doorknob. I untie it and twist the yellow ribbon around my finger, confused.
Must be some kind of neighborhood thing? Our neighbors are all incredibly nice here—to the point where I’ve had to resist telling them how stereotypically Canadian they seem. But it’s a relief, after everything we went through. To finally be somewhere that we know is safe. Somewhere we know isn’t full of the kind of assholes we had to live with previously.
I push open the door, blinking in the dark interior of the house. That’s weird. Normally Sloan is home from the pre-school where she works half-days
by now, and already bustling around making cookies or decorating or forcing me to try some weird new dinner dish she’s concocted (most of which, to be fair, are really damn delicious).
“Sloan?” I ask, my voice echoing slightly in our foyer.
That’s when arms latch around my neck, and a familiar warm body presses against my side, her lips snaking up my neck. I tilt my head down to kiss her hard, smiling when we break apart. “What’s up?” I ask, as she squeezes my ass.
Mm. That makes me want to do all kinds of things to her right now. Press her up against the staircase, bend her over the balcony, or . . . hell, we haven’t had sex in the coat closet since that time I tried tying her hands over her head to the racket, and we wound up breaking the kitchen chair. That could be a good one to try again.
My mind drifts so far into fantasy mode that it takes me a moment to notice she’s tugging on my arms.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” The telltale shimmer of anticipation in her voice is the cutest, sexiest damn thing I’ve ever heard. I trail after her without protest—I mean, who wouldn’t?—into the kitchen and let her push me down onto one of the stools by the counter. There’s something on the counter, though I can’t make it out in the dim light, with all the overheads turned off like she has them.
“Ready?” she asks, and my attention snaps back to her. My attention always does that. Always will, probably.
“Always,” I tell her.