The donut was still warm, and I nearly moaned as I brought the delicacy to my mouth and sank my teeth into it.
Flavor burst across my taste buds, and my eyes closed unconsciously.
“Seriously, you’ve been practicing that, haven’t you?” Cleo accused.
I opened my eyes and winked at him. “You’ve only got to bring these with you every time you come, and I’ll do the same for you.”
“Deal,” he said immediately.
I giggled and finished my donut in two bites.
“So what do you want to do now that you have me up so early?” I asked.
“Skeet,” he said quickly.
I blinked at him. “What is skeet? And what does doing skeet entail?”
He rolled his eyes and stood, rolling up to the balls of his feet as he lifted his hands high above his head.
My eyes glazed over, and not because of the glazed donut in his hand, but because of the sheer power of him.
It was truly amazing to me how in shape he was.
“I’d kill for your body,” I sighed as I stuffed the remaining bite of my second donut into my mouth and swallowed it down.
Standing up, I walked to my fridge and reached for the milk, pouring myself a glass and downing it as I watched him scratch his abs absently.
“Why would you want my body? Your body is fuckin’ perfect,” he said as he eyed my legs.
I followed his gaze down to see my extra-large thighs and the pant-less state of my legs.
“Did you know there are two types of women in this world?” I asked as I kept staring at my thighs.
I needed to shave.
And squat.
Also, possibly get some lipo.
“No,” he said. “What two types are there?”
I could tell he didn’t really want to know.
He could smell the trap.
“Yeah,” I said as I lifted my shirt so he could see my thighs. “There are the types that stand with their feet together, and their thighs don’t touch. Then there are the other women. The ones where they stand with their feet together and their thighs do touch.”
I looked up once I’d said that, and I could see the hesitancy to say yes or no in his eyes.
“So you’re saying this because?” He worried.
I smiled slightly at him. “I’m that type of girl who’s always going to have her thighs touching. I don’t have any willpower when it comes to donuts. I don’t have willpower against carbonated beverages. And I certainly like bread too much. I like sitting on the couch watching re-runs of Dancing With The Stars and NCIS. I like sleeping in on my days off. I just wanted you to know what you were getting into. Ya’ know, just in case you need to get out now while you can. So I don’t invest myself in this and you leave like you did last time. I can’t do it again. If you’re planning on leaving, I need you to leave now before I become too involved. Before I start to care too much.”
He blinked at that.
I’d surprised him in being so forward.
Hell, I’d surprised myself.
However, that’d been brewing in my brain for a while now, and I needed him to know what was in my heart.
I needed him to know that if he took this any further, that I’d become attached. Become his.
I didn’t want him to rip my heart out for a second time.
I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed him until he’d come back.
His hand snaked out and he brought it up until it was resting against the softness of my hip.
“I don’t know where this is going to lead,” he said as he licked his lips. “I’m not a mind reader. I’m not a psychic. What I do know, though, is that I want you. You kept me alive when I needed you the most. I may not have had you there in body, but you were in my soul. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Let’s just leave it at that. No labels. I’d never hurt you on purpose. I swear.”
Those last two words were said against my lips.
A soft, sweet brush of his mouth against my own.
Inadvertently, I let the tip of my tongue snake out to wet my lips, and unintentionally got both his and mine, causing him to groan.
The next few seconds were kind of a blur.
One moment I was standing up against the counter, and the next I was without panties, with my ass sitting on top of the freezing cold cabinets.
He dropped down to one knee, letting the tip of his tongue run a hot, wet line up the center of my core.
His stiffened tongue drew circles around the tip of my clit, not actually touching it, only giving me a taste of what it could be.
“Please,” I exhaled as I looked down at his head.
I saw the corners of his mouth tip up and knew that I was in for one hell of a ride.
The man was relentless.
Finding no purchase on his hair, I let my hand snake down the back of his head until I encountered his neck.
Pulling forward, I urged him closer.
He obliged by burying his mouth in my pussy.
His long tongue plunging into my pussy and the tip of his nose ground against my clit as he thrust forward.
“Jesus,” I gasped.
He grinned against my soaked channel before reaching his hand forward and plunging two fingers deep inside of me.
The unshaved portion of his face was a sweet burn against the inside of my thighs as I clenched tightly around his fingers.
“Oh, sweet mother of pearl,” I gasped when his tongue did something particularly talented with my clit.
His chuckle against the inside of my thighs and had excitement coursing through me. “Please.”
I didn’t really know what I was saying ‘please’ to. For him to go faster? For him to stop?
He knew though.
Standing to his full height, he lowered the elastic band on his pants, revealing his engorged cock to me.
My eyes zeroed in on his dick as he lined it up with my entrance, and then slowly slid inside.
Home.
I finally felt like I was home.
My eyes closed to mere slits, and I started panting at the feeling of his hard, ridged cock sinking into me balls deep.
His eyes were on my face, I could tell.
However, my eyes were too busy watching as the ruddy length of him moved in and out of me. Slowly.
His cock was darker than the rest of him.
His balls hung heavy between his legs, and each time he sank into me, they’d press up against my ass, causing a thrill to shoot through me.
I’d never been into that kind of thing before, but with Cleo, I had the urge to try absolutely everything.
Even the foreign and taboo.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
My eyes raised reluctantly, but he rewarded my compliance with a sharp thrust inside of me.
My eyes widened at the invasion, and he smiled.
Finally getting what he wanted, he started to push in and out of me, slow and steady.
The slick sounds of my sex opening up to his invasion filled the room.
His skin started to glisten from his exertion, and I was sure that I was doing the very same, and not caring one tiny bit.
Sex was messy.
There was no other way around it.
I could tell when he was close when his thrusts went from steady to erratic.
I clenched around him as a tidal wave started to take me over; in only a few more short, sharp strokes, I was falling over, and he followed right along with me.
He grunted as I started contracting around him.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and his lips tightened.
“Fuck,” he gritted out.
I was in complete agreement; however, I couldn’t voice my agreement because I was too busy screaming out my climax.
Once his thrusts slowed to little, tiny movements, I opened my eyes that I wasn’t aware that I’d closed, and stared into the depths of his.
“I like it when you scream,” he said breathlessly.
My head fe
ll back to rest on the cabinet door behind me as I tried to catch my breath.
“I like it when you make me scream.”
He snorted and pulled out, leaving a very wet feeling in his wake.
I looked down to see his release dripping out of me, and I grimaced.
“I’m going to need to disinfect this kitchen after that,” I said as I shimmied off the counter.
He grunted in agreement. “Yeah.”
His tone was odd. As if I’d done something to piss him off somehow.
“Does that mean you’re not going to help?” I teased, hoping to draw him out of his mood.
Snapping the towel off the oven handle like it’d done something to wrong him, he walked over to the counter and wiped up the mess. “Go get dressed. Wear jeans and a t-shirt. Oh, and those boots I got you last year.”
I blinked at him.
“Okay,” I said warily at his abruptness.
I’d nearly thrown those boots away last year.
They sat in my closet in the very package he’d brought them in. They had never been worn.
The evening we’d finally slept together, he’d brought them over because we were supposed to go on a ride the next day.
Needless to say, he hadn’t shown, and I never got to wear the boots.
They sat in my closet on the third shelf, gathering dust.
I walked away slowly, reluctantly.
If I opened that box that would mean that I was admitting that I was giving him a second chance.
Was I ready for that?
Was he worth it?
The throb between my legs pulsed with the aftershocks of our coupling, reminding me of what we’d just shared together.
It was good.
Really good.
And I wanted him.
I missed him when he wasn’t there.
I’d missed him for a whole year.
Reaching my closet, I found the box in question.
It was a normal brown box.
Nothing special about it, but it meant something.
Something huge.
Taking the last step, I opened the box.
***
Rue
“Where are we going?” I asked for the fifth time.
I looked down at my boots that were now caked in mud, and grinned.
We were on the back of Cleo’s bike, but we were driving slower than hell, and had been for nearly twenty minutes.
I’d lost track of the amount of times we’d taken a turn where I hadn’t realized that a turn was even possible.
“Few more minutes,” he said shortly.
Uh-oh. Was he mad that I wouldn’t shut up?
He’d been snappy since we’d left my place, and I didn’t know what to think of a pissy Cleo.
I’d only been around him when he was in a good mood.
This was a new side of him that I wasn’t sure that I liked.
“Whatever,” I snapped back.
He pulled over to the side of the road, turned the bike off, and stood quickly.
I hadn’t even had time to realize that he was stopping until he was already three feet away from me.
“What’s your fucking problem?” I yelled, tired of his attitude.
He stopped and put his hands up on his head.
“I’m just...I need you...I’m confused,” he finally decided.
I blinked quickly. “What are you confused about? Can you call for directions?”
He sighed. “I know where we are.”
“Then what are you confused about?” I finally asked.
He rubbed his palms roughly over his face. “A lot of things. Mainly I’m just not used to being wrong. I fucked up by leaving, and then not calling. I fully admit that, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want you to be a statistic. Now here you are giving me the time of day when I don’t deserve it, and I just don’t know why I deserve that.”
I looked down at his bike, tracing my finger around the bright silver dials of the motorcycle’s gauges while I thought about what I wanted to say.
Looking up, I swallowed tightly, admitting one of my inner fears.
“You don’t deserve it, Cleo. You really hurt me. Gutted me. However, that being said, I’ve missed you. You were...still are, one of my best friends. I want that back, and if that means I have to put my trust in you again, then I’ll do that. It’s my decision to make. Just don’t fuck it up again, okay?”
He laughed.
The shit.
“Okay, baby. I won’t fuck it up again,” he said.
Walking back towards the bike, he swung his leg over and settled back between my legs.
Just before he started the bike back up, he reached his large palm back and cupped the back of my head, pulling it towards him.
I leaned in and lifted up until I could touch his lips with my own.
“Love you,” he said before the roar of him starting up his bike covered up my surprised exclamation.
“Holy fucking shit!” I squealed.
He laughed as he took off down the dirt road.
***
Rue
“Have you ever shot a gun before?” The woman asked.
I smiled down at the ground, not wanting to show my face to the men.
“Yep,” I said quietly.
“I have, too. But I’m not good enough to outshoot Trance,” the black haired woman with the black dog at her feet said.
She’d introduced herself as Viddy earlier, and the dog as Radar.
She’d come in a big, monster of a truck with one of the most devastatingly handsome men I’d ever seen before in my life.
He had curly, baby fine blonde hair, two different colored eyes, one green and one blue, and a killer smile.
However, I knew as soon as he’d looked at me that there was more than what met the eye.
I could tell with just one look that Trance and Viddy were in love. Trance only had eyes for Viddy; just being around them made me feel like I was a voyeur.
They instinctively knew where the other was, even without glancing over at each other.
Radar had stuck to Viddy’s side like glue for the last twenty minutes we’d been here.
“That’s ‘cause you can’t see,” Adeline, Viddy’s twin sister, said.
It was most obvious that the two of them were twins. It’d saddened me to hear that Viddy had limited eyesight; however, from what I could tell, she’d dealt with it just fine.
“Be nice, and don’t start,” a deep, rumbled command came from behind us.
That would be Kettle.
He was large.
In fact, I would even go as far as saying he was massive.
Tall, with dark brown hair and nearly translucent, pale blue eyes, he was hypnotic.
He could easily compete in the looks department with Trance.
No one held a candle to Cleo, though.
“Make me,” Adeline retorted.
I giggled as Kettle’s eyes narrowed on his wife.
“Really?” Kettle asked with a tilt of his head.
“Uh, no?” Adeline back tracked.
He rolled his eyes and turned, but left with a parting shot. “I didn’t think so.”
When would men ever learn?
She started tiptoeing in his direction, coming to a stop about three feet away from him before launching herself at his back and reaching her arms over his shoulders to start digging her fingers into his armpits.
“Ack!” He roared.
Adeline held onto Kettle like a monkey while the man started doing everything in his power to get her off without actually using force.
“They’re not always this weird,” Cleo said as he locked an arm around my neck and pulled me into his chest.
“Sure they aren’t,” I teased good-naturedly.
I liked that he had friends that could be silly.
I was practically annoying when I was in ‘one of those moods,’ as my dad used to call it.
A wave of sadn
ess hit me as I remembered how I used to go into those hyperactive times, and then my dad would take me out to burn off the energy.
He was a gun smith.
Which was why I smiled slyly when Cleo had patiently showed me how to use a shotgun a little over a half hour ago.
Cleo knew my dad had been a gun smith.
Just who did he think helped test those guns out before my dad sold them?
They may have died ten years ago, but shooting was kind of like riding a bike.
You never forgot.
“Okay, what are we doing?” I asked after a few more minutes of the impromptu WWF show going on in front of me.
Cleo grinned at me. “Can you pull that lever back?”
I looked where he was pointing at the skeet thrower and blinked. “Well yeah, but I thought I was going to shoot?”
“Well, really we just brought y’all along so you wouldn’t feel lonely. Now y’all have each other to talk to while we shoot, but it’d be nice if one of you would load the skeet and pull for us,” he said slowly.
I looked over at the two women with me, and they hid knowing smiles.
“So…you wanted me to come along with you so you could shoot with these two. Not for me to do it with you, do I have that correct?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yep.”
I inhaled slowly. “What if I wanted to shoot?”
“Can you shoot?” He asked in return.
I nodded.
“You can shoot…this?” He asked as he held up the shotgun for my inspection.
“Yep,” I agreed.
“And just who taught you that?” He asked suspiciously.
I wanted to smile, I really did, but I managed to hold it in check just for him.
“Show me what you got,” he said tauntingly.
So I did.
Sucker.
I took the shotgun out of Cleo’s hand and inspected it.
Loaded.
One in the chamber.
Pump.
Four shells total.
Lining my toes up at the edge of the concrete I looked back at him and said, “Pull.”
Whomever was behind me pulled, and an orange disc the size of a small plate launched into the sky in front of me.
Lifting the gun up quickly, I placed the stock of the gun in the crease of my shoulder, laid my cheek against the stock, and looked down the barrel at the sites.
Less than two seconds later, I fired, and the orange disk exploded into a million tiny pieces.
Life to My Flight Page 11
