Blue Collar (A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology Book 2)
Page 26
I’m behind him now, close enough that I can touch him. He’s in a T-shirt and pajama pants, but I want him to be in nothing. “Gabe,” I say.
But he shakes his head. “Daisy, if I turn around and you’re standing there in a towel...”
But he doesn’t finish the thought. I fill in all kinds of things like, “I’ll ravage you,” and “I’ll have to bend you over my knee and spank you,” and even, “You’ll really, really like what comes next,” because I’m about 115% sure that I will. Whatever it is, I’ll like it because I can read it in the lines of his body and the way he shifts his weight like maybe, just maybe, he’s trying to relieve some pressure in his pants.
“If you turn around and I’m standing here in a towel, what?”
He makes an impatient sound and runs a rough hand through his hair. “You realize what you’re doing, right?”
I step closer so my breasts brush his back, and he sucks in a breath. “Mmm-hmmm,” I say.
My fingertips find the hem of his T-shirt, and I lift it and trace the line of hair that trails from his chest to his—”
Gabe whirls in my arms, and his lips touch mine.
This kiss is so, so damn sweet. All I can think is finally and hallelujah. He doesn’t finesse, with polite lips and delicate tongue; he takes, grabbing a fistful of hair and guiding my head where he wants it. I open to him, moan when his tongue brushes mine and his hand finds its way inside the towel. All it does is rest on my back to pull me closer, but it feels like much more. Like a tongue or a cock inside me or, at the very least, a rude finger someplace it definitely doesn’t belong among polite society.
My arms twine around his neck, my fingers in that dark, messy hair, and he crushes me against his chest. We’re frantic, hands and mouths mauling every inch of each other. My towel is gone, lost to some struggle around the kitchen table, and Gabe’s shirt fell someplace in the vicinity of the couch. It’s full on sex-war, and we’re doing our damnedest to achieve world domination.
My thighs hit mattress, and then we’re both falling into the softness. His skin is warm, almost hot, against my breasts, and I moan and sigh and wriggle to get closer. Gabe echoes my sentiments and kicks free of his pajamas, until I feel his hard thighs against mine.
“Oh God,” I say, spreading my legs so his weight settles there. If I rock my hips just a bit—
But then Gabe grinds against me.
I see stars and moons and heavenly bodies singing the Body Electric.
“Good?” he asks and does it again.
My eyes roll back in my head as his lips caress my neck, nipping and kissing along the vulnerable flesh. Fingers grasp my nipple, rolling, and elicit a shudder and a moan, everything low in my belly pooling hot and liquid.
Gabe’s back is hard under my exploring hands, muscles pinched to peaks. I want to see him, to feel every inch, and remember every second in case I never get another chance. He feels solid and reassuring. Like his strength, the heft of him alone, could solve half my problems. The thought’s ridiculous, I know. But it doesn’t change the fact I feel safe and more okay than I’ve felt in a very long time. “You’re big,” I say.
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you lift?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why’d you never tell me?”
He raises his head and gives me a look. His brows are raised, but he’s fighting a smile. “Daisy.” The come on is implied.
“Right,” I say. “Back to work.”
He smirks as I push his head to my breast. His lips surround my nipple, and I cry out.
“Oh, God,” I say again.
When he looks up at me, a smug but adorable grin spreads over his face, and those dimples make this sex scene into a four-way. “Gabe,” he says.
“Huh?”
“My name, sweetheart. I’d like to hear it on your lips. God’s okay, but Gabe’s better.”
I push his shoulder but grin back. “Smug-ass,” I say, then lean up to kiss his dimples. “These are adorably hot.”
He indulges me, chuckling and letting me kiss all over his face like an over-stimulated puppy. I definitely tongue one at one point, and he doesn’t even flinch, instead sliding a hand down my body, through my curls, parting my lips, and finding my clit.
I suck in a sharp breath as he circles the bundle of nerves, and my head lolls against the bed. I’m incapacitated by his sex magic. His fixing hands. I’m going to have an orgasm, and we’ve barely just begun.
He switches things up, slips a finger inside me, then another, curls them until they’re doing the exact right thing to make me come. “Oh, God, Gabe,” I say, my legs shaking.
He presses a thumb to my clit, and I tip right over the edge into orgasmville. My mind goes blank, and the whole world spins on the axis of contracting muscles and delicious brain chemicals.
Gabe’s lips are on my neck when I’m finally sentient enough to realize where I am. He’s nuzzling me, and his lips and tongue feel better than the orgasm. His big hand strokes the curve of my back, holding me tight to him like I’m something to hold onto.
His lips find mine, and although I’m usually a one-and-done kind of girl, the hunger grows immediately.
“Daisy?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He’s nuzzling my neck again, except now he’s biting, and it’s sending shivers all over me.
“Go get Mr. Big.”
I freeze, my hand on his tight butt cheek. There’s very little ‘asking’ going on here. It’s mostly commands, and I have to say, it’s working remarkably well. I climb from the bed on Jell-O-legs, loving the way Gabe’s gaze feels on my skin as I walk to my suitcases.
I turn, a brand-new-in-the-box Mr. Big in my hand, and all the breath rushes from my lungs. Naked Gabe does that to me. He’s gorgeous—long, lean lines of muscle, tanned skin, and dark hair—all culminating in a masterpiece, something born from Michelangelo’s chisel, but better, because he’s flesh and blood. And most of that flesh and blood has accumulated between his legs.
The man has a monster cock. I glance at poor Mr. Big in my hand. The hunk of purple silicone doesn’t have a thing on Gabe.
A slow smile spreads across his face at my reaction, and as if to make sure I know it’s reciprocal, he lets his greedy gaze travel over my body, stopping at my breasts in a bold display of male approval. His hand travels south, and he grasps his cock in that tanned, oil-stained fist and gives it a slow pump as he drinks in the rest of me.
And good God, I’ve never seen anything like it. I scramble onto the bed, and Gabe tears open the package just as I lunge for his package. My lips slide over the thick head of his cock, and he hisses a breath, his fingers tangling in my hair. He tastes like salt and decadence. I open my mouth and take more, wanting to feel him, measure him with my lips, taste the salt-tang of his pre-cum on my tongue.
The bed shifts, and Gabe curls around me. A small maneuver and we’d be sixty-nining. A tremor runs through me at the thought.
But instead, I feel something that definitely isn’t a finger or a tongue. I freeze, not that I should be surprised, but now my situation seems surreal. Mr. Big himself is using Mr. Big on me.
Gabe works slowly, stretching me little by little. The walls of my pussy resist the intrusion, but Gabe is far more patient than I am. The combined effect of his cock in my mouth and Mr. Big inside me is intoxicating, and I push back and swallow more.
He massages my clit, Mr. Big slips farther inside, and I moan. And that’s his cue. Gabe fucks me with the dildo, each stroke sliding heavy against my sensitive g-spot. I suck harder, bobbing my head and using my tongue in an effort to distract myself from the impending orgasm, but it’s hopeless.
I come again, arching off of Gabe’s erection and crying out. I collapse onto the sheets, my legs shaking, and then Gabe is over me, flipping me onto my back and kissing every inch of my face. I smile up at him, loopy and spent.
“Christ, that was hot, Daisy,” he says between kisses.
Put a fork in me, I’m done.
I can’t even lift my head, but I can feel Gabe’s hard, patient cock pressing against my thigh, and I’m not leaving this apartment anything but bow-legged.
Gabe is propped on his elbows over me, and I reach between us to fist him. He’s slick from my mouth, and my hand glides up and down his rigid length. “Damn, man, I had no idea,” I say.
“Me either,” he says, but he’s not looking at my body when he says it. No, he’s looking at my face, mostly into my eyes, when the words leave his mouth.
My heart does a terrifying squeeze inside my chest.
He kisses my forehead tenderly and then the tip of my nose.
I feel fluttery inside. When I pump my fist again, Gabe groans and pushes into my grip. And how could I deny him? I shimmy my hips in his direction, and he moans.
A big hand brushes the tangled hair from my face. “Fuck, Daisy, I want this. No, need this. I need you.”
And those words are scary as hell and the most perfect pillow talk I’ve ever heard.
He rolls on a condom, moves between my thighs, and guides his cock to my eager pussy. I say eager because that’s exactly what it is. As soon as he tells me how much he wants me, needs me, I’m ready for him again. His thrusts are slow and careful, but I wriggle under him as he parts the delicate and abused flesh. Even through the discomfort, there’s something exquisite about how thoroughly he takes me.
His mouth covers mine, and I sigh into the kiss, moving my hips in a restless, greedy way. I can’t believe it, but I might come again. He holds my face in his hands and kisses me all over, and sometimes he just looks into my eyes. My fingers draw words on his back. Words like good and tomorrow and future. I don’t even know why I do it, what possesses me, but I have this need to capture the moment, and words do that for me.
Gabe speeds his thrusts, and now his pelvis is rubbing my clit, and his cock is stroking, stroking inside me, and it’s like hanging at the tippy-top of a rollercoaster.
I cry out his name as an orgasm takes me by surprise. It’s a gentle roll this time, although no less intense. With each thrust, Gabe encourages it to start fresh until I really can’t take any more, and tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Fuck, Daisy,” he gasps.
I know he’s feeling the same thing I am, the unrelenting squeeze of my body’s pleasure. And other things, too. Things that need to be looked at, turned over, and discussed.
He kisses away the tears then speeds through a flurry of sloppy thrusts, face hidden in my neck. With a soft grunt, he stills, and I feel his cock jerk.
The mattress trembles as he collapses then drags me to him, so we’re a tangle of hair and arms and legs and sheets. Our bodies, slick with sweat, stick together, but the feeling is amazing. And right.
Gabe kisses the top of my head over and over, and his fingers trace my backbone, the length of my arm, down my hip. “I have something for you,” he says after a while, and then leaves me to rummage in his nightstand.
I miss the feel of him against me, and my fingers itch to pull him back. “Really?” I ask, surprised.
He drops a tattered old book on my bare belly, the spine broken and the cover stained.
I adore old books, the feel, the smell, the way the pages are soft under my fingertips. I told him that once. I lift the book, flip carefully to the cover page, that incredible aroma of old book wafting from the tatty pages.
Robert Frost.
First Edition.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. No way.
“Do you like it?”
“Oh my God.”
“Gabe,” he teases and swats my thigh.
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I say, looking into the eyes of the man who’s quickly teaching me that maybe careful and jaded aren’t the best things to be.
“I know we did this backwards, Daisy, but let me take you on a date. Let’s see what this is between us, because it’s something,” he says.
And how could I say no to my very own, real-life Mr. Big?
About the Authors
Adele Downs is the best-selling, award-winning author of more than twenty romance titles, including those written under another pen name, and a former journalist with hundreds of articles to her credit. When not writing in her home office in rural Pennsylvania, she can be found reading a book on the nearest beach, taking photographs, or riding in her convertible.
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Belinda LaPage lives in Sydney, Australia, and one day hopes to write for a living. She likes stories more than words, journeys more than destinations, and numbers more than anything they count. When not writing, she enjoys reading, Sydney beaches, time with friends, and buying the wrong shoes.
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Elle James spent twenty years livin' and lovin' in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Elle happily writes full-time, penning adventures that keep her readers begging for more. When she's not writing, she's traveling, snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, concocting new stories.
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Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner in the great state of Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. Best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.
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Kalissa Wayne spends time in multiple universes, this is the blessing and curse of having a creative mind. She does her best to balance the real world and the creative one, but has a lot of help from her loving husband of 17+ years. She hopes you enjoy her story as much as she did writing it!
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Kris Norris is an author, single mother, and slave to chaos. Kris is a jack-of-all trades who’s endlessly searching for her ever-elusive clone. She loves writing heroines who kick ass, heroes who are larger than life, and stories that keep you on the edge of your seat. Life’s an adventure…go find yours.
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Layla Chase, on a dare, dove into exploring the steamier side of romance and discovered characters, both contemporary and historical, from all walks of life whose stories needed to be told. Layla lives in southern California with her soul-mate husband and two beloved dogs.
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M. Marie lives in the heart of downtown Toronto, and is both an erotica writer and enthusiast. She finds the experience of writing erotica challenging, but also exciting, as it pushes boundaries she didn't even realize she had. Her stories and poetry are available in a number of anthologies.
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Megan Mitcham is a USA Today bestselling author who pens sizzling suspense novels that whisk you across the globe, wedge your heart in your throat, make your hands sweat and your naughty bits tingle. Check out her special forces heroes in the Base Branch Series.
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Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines, and wisecracking best friends. Mia lives in Los Angeles with her roguish husband and two waggish dogs.
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N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
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Robie Madison has worked as a distribution manager, information specialist, and model—which included 15 seconds of fame (if that!) in a television commercial. In addition to their home base, she and her family have also lived in South East Asia and South Africa. When not traveling or planning her next trip, Robie creates characters that can do the adventuring for her.
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Sukie Chapin has been a military wife, world traveler, almost-groupie, and preschool teacher. Naturally, the next logical step was writing erotic romance. She lives in Texas where she can be found reading, writing, mommying, and making a homemade chocolate pudding that will make you want to slap your mama.
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Susan Saxx writes sexy, heartwarming romances. Her REAL MEN series focuses on a band of Canadian military reservists and the strong women they fall in love with. Meet the cowboy, the ex-hockey player and more at her website, and join her mailing list for exclusive teaser stories and release updates!
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Tray Ellis never learned to whistle and her home is rarely organized, but that just leaves more time for writing, which she adores. Gentle twirls of fate are her specialty and when she writes, she aims for quiet humor and a satisfying ending.
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About the Editor
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance. She has published over a hundred eighty stories in multiple genres and lengths, and is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Kindle Worlds, Montlake, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.
Her short stories have appeared in multiple Cleis Press collections, including Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Lesbian Cops, Dream Lover, Carnal Machines, Best Erotic Romance (2012), Suite Encounters, Girl Fever, Girls Who Score, Duty and Desire, Best Lesbian Romance of 2013, and the upcoming On Fire. For Cleis Press, she edited Girls Who Bite, She Shifters, Cowboy Lust, Smokin’ Hot Firemen, High Octane Heroes, Cowboy Heat, Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors, and Sex Objects. She also edited Conquests: An Anthology of Smoldering Viking Romance and Rogues: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology.