by Donya Lynne
“Thanks.” He picks up one of the cookies and bites into it, giving me an appreciative wink that makes my insides somersault.
Three weeks.
With Gunner.
Maybe they won’t last forever, but I’m sure going to try and make the most of them.
Chapter 3
My parents go to bed at eleven, leaving Gunner and me alone in the living room.
My mom’s already warned me not to hover all over Gunner while he’s staying with us, and she and my dad have cautioned against any “funny business” and said I should lock the bathroom door into Wendy’s room, just in case. They needn’t worry. Gunner hasn’t shown any interest in me beyond checking me out in my towel. Still, I reassured them they raised a responsible daughter and that I would lock the door.
I’m not sure why they’re so weirded out. I’m pretty sure they know I’m still a virgin, so I’ve given them no reason to think I’m that kind of girl.
Then again, this is Gunner. I would love to be that kind of girl with him.
He and I watch the last hour of Prometheus without uttering a single word to one another. The silence reminds me of those Halloween toys that are motion sensitive and move when you get close to them. It feels like at any moment, one of us is going to move and set off the other.
But that doesn’t happen. The movie ends at midnight without incident, and after exchanging a couple of awkward glances with him, I push myself off the couch.
“I’m going to head up to bed.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He shuts off the TV.
On our way out of the living room, I turn off the lights, casting us into dimly lit darkness.
For a moment, neither of us moves, and I stare up at him in the silence. He’s standing close to me. The house is so quiet, I can hear him breathe.
He starts up the stairs, and I follow.
“Don’t trip,” I tease, emboldened by the darkness.
“Will you catch me if I do?” he says over his shoulder. His voice rumbles over my senses.
“Uh, no. You might crush me.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
I let out an abrupt laugh. “Gunner, trust me, you are anything but fat.” I realize too late how that sounded. I don’t want to scare Gunner away by revealing how I feel about him. “Um . . . what I mean is that you look like you’ve been working out.”
He chuckles as we reach the top of the stairs. “I know what you meant.”
My eyebrows tuck toward the inside corners of my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I’m just razzing you.” Something in his tone indicates there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t seem interested in explaining further.
He approaches Wendy’s bedroom and pushes open the door.
Turns out that’s where he’ll be sleeping while he’s staying with us, so we’ll be neighbors. How’s that for falling under a lucky star?
“Good night, Cami.”
I stop at my bedroom door and glance back at him. “Night.”
He hesitates, watching me, then turns and disappears inside Wendy’s room.
Inside my own, I change into a pair of pink cotton shorts and a white tank top. I can’t sleep in anything that covers my arms and legs, no matter how cold it is outside. I’ll sleep under a dozen quilts before wearing long-sleeved, long-legged flannel pajamas like my dad does.
I brush my teeth and wash my face then shut my door to the bathroom in case Gunner wants to use it, but I think he’s decided to use the one in the hall so we don’t have any more near misses like the one this afternoon.
I turn on my TV and click through the channels for a while then shut it off when nothing catches my attention.
I try to read, but after going over the same sentence ten times and still not comprehending what it says, I give up and shut off my light. Closing my eyes, I give in to the fantasies of Gunner that have been calling to me all night.
I imagine myself going to his room, crawling into his bed, kissing him, him kissing me back. He takes off my pajamas, sucks my nipples, rolls me to my back and—
I hear a noise. A squeaky hinge. I know that sound. After years sharing a bathroom with Wendy, I know what it sounds like when her bathroom door opens.
Oops. I forgot to lock it as I promised.
I open my eyes and glance at my closed bathroom door. What’s Gunner doing? Locked door or not, I thought he had decided to use the hall bathr—
The handle on my door turns, jarring me from my line of thought. Sucking in my breath, I quickly slam my eyes shut just as the door starts to open.
Exhilaration kicks me in the gut.
Why is Gunner coming to my room?
I’m instantly wide awake, but I keep my eyes closed.
His quiet footsteps cross the carpet, drawing closer to the bed.
I’m not imagining this, am I?
I don’t dare open my eyes. Maybe he’ll think I’m asleep and leave. Do I want him to leave? Not really. But do I really want him to stay?
The bed dips as he eases down on it, close to my feet.
Why is he in my room? What does he want?
I force myself to keep my eyes closed even though I’m freaking out. But in a good way. Gunner has come to me. He’s in my bedroom. He’s on my bed. Probably watching me as I pretend to be asleep.
And now he’s slowly pulling down the covers.
“I know you’re awake,” he says, his voice a low rumble, like thunder in the distance.
I don’t respond. I remain absolutely still, even when he drags the covers all the way off my body. Even when his fingertips traipse up my bare shin to my knee. Even when he shifts closer, bends forward, and kisses the top of my thigh.
It’s all I can do not to moan as electric tingles erupt from the contact between his lips and my skin, setting my insides on fire.
“Fine, pretend you’re asleep.” He makes a quiet noise, like a soft chuckle. “It’s more fun that way.”
I wouldn’t know if it’s more fun this way or any other. All I know is that I don’t want him to stop touching me, kissing me, seducing me.
His fingers skim up and down my leg, and he leaves tender, full-lipped kisses on my thigh in a back-and-forth pattern that creeps higher, toward the hem of my shorts.
My body quickens, even as a voice inside my head—one of fear, because I’ve never done anything like this before—tells me to make him stop. But a louder voice tells me to let him keep going. Not to stop him. That this is what I’ve always wanted, and now I’m getting it. Gunner is touching me, kissing me, and, if I’m not mistaken, he’s about to do naughty, delicious things to me that I’ve only read about in the books my mom doesn’t know I read. The dirty books. The ones with the incredible sex scenes that get me wet between the legs and make me want to touch myself.
He shifts closer and places his hands on the waist of my shorts. I lock up even though I’m trying hard not to move.
He freezes. For a long moment, he doesn’t do or say anything, then whispers, “If you want me to stop, tell me.”
I don’t.
He’s still touching the waist of my shorts, but he doesn’t move for a long time, as if he’s watching me for a sign, making sure I’m okay with what’s happening. Or maybe he’s questioning whether I really am awake, as if perhaps he got it wrong and I really am asleep.
I can hear his accelerated breathing. Each deep inhale rushes down his windpipe, and each exhale sounds like a step closer to whatever he’s planning to do to me.
The seconds tick by, neither of us showing our hand, both of us locked inside a moment that feels more like a fork in the road. If he stops, we go back to what we were before he walked through my door. Once more, he’ll be the boy I’ve secretly been in love with and pined after for years, and I’ll be his best friend’s baby sister.
But if he continues and takes off my shorts, he’ll become the first boy I’ve let see me naked, touch me sexually, and maybe even have an orgasm with if everythin
g goes well. I’ll be the young woman he desires.
Who knows what could happen and how far this could go? And that’s what’s so exciting about all this. It’s different. We’re becoming new people to one another. We’re seeing each other in a fresh light with new possibilities blossoming between us.
He moves, making the mattress dip as he bends forward. When he speaks again, his voice comes from right beside my ear as he whispers, “If you don’t tell me to stop right now, I’m going to take off your shorts, and I’m going to put my mouth on you, and I’m not going to stop until I’ve made you come.”
Oh God. OhGodohGodohGodohGod . . .
“Last chance, Cameron. If you don’t want this, tell me.”
I still don’t say anything.
“I won’t do this unless I know you want me to. Do you want me to keep going?”
His head is still beside mine, his mouth beside my ear.
Drawing in a breath, I hold it for a moment then whisper, “Yes,” so softly it could almost pass as a gentle breeze. For all he knows, I’m talking in my sleep.
But he knows I’m not. He knows this is the permission he’s been seeking.
“Then get ready,” he whispers back, before lightly kissing the spot right below my ear.
This is it. It’s finally going to happen. Well, not it. He didn’t say he was going to have sex with me. Just put his mouth on me. But that’s still a really big it. I’ve never experienced oral sex. I’ve read about it. I’ve read hot sex scenes in those dirty books where the man does that to the woman. I’ve even masturbated while thinking of a man—Gunner—doing that to me. But I’ve never experienced it firsthand.
I don’t make a sound. In fact, I’m practically holding my breath. I can’t even move as I wait for what comes next.
My heart begins racing as I feel my shorts drag lower, past my hips, lower still, until I’m totally exposed. In the silence, I hear him swallow, and it sounds like he licks his lips or presses them together. I’m not sure.
The bed rocks gently as he continues dragging my shorts down my thighs. Then I feel warm air at the juncture between my legs just before his lips and nose brush through the fine dusting of blond hair down there.
I suck in a gulp of air and gasp. My whole body tenses as incredible sensations rocket through me.
That intimate caress does more to obliterate my sexual response than touching myself ever did.
Then his fingers part me, and his tongue lightly sweeps over my clit. If I thought my response to his lips and nose was off the charts, I nearly pass out from feeling his tongue. I arch off the mattress, and a high-pitched squeak breaks from my throat before I clamp it down. I don’t want to wake up the whole house. That would put an end to my newfound relationship with Gunner before it even starts.
Keeping his mouth on me, he finishes taking off my shorts and climbs between my legs, pushing my thighs wider as he settles on his stomach. His hands slide up my inner thighs, and he uses his thumbs to spread my lips as he closes his mouth over me.
Oh God!
I’ve had orgasms before. I know what it feels like when I’m approaching one. I know what it feels like to have one. What I’m experiencing right now is neither and both all at once. I feel like I’m already on the verge of coming while still feeling like I’m not even close. It’s the most deliriously intense sensation I’ve ever experienced. I’m riding the edge of climax without going over. I want this feeling to last forever.
His mouth closes over my clit with gentle suction, and his tongue flicks slowly then fast then slow again. I like slow. I want slow. Slow feels better. Slow makes me hotter, and I roll my hips against his face, gasping as I feel the first spark of orgasm light inside me then flicker out to leave me skating on the razor’s edge once more, which is fine by me. The longer I can make this last, the longer I can experience this explosive pleasure Gunner has awakened inside me.
His large hands grip my inner thighs, pushing my legs wider as he feasts on me, moaning, breathing against my wet flesh. Releasing my clit, he draws his tongue up the inside of one lip then down the other, over and over, making large, agonizingly electric circles that tease my clit at the top of each sweep, jolting me with growing urgency each time he makes contact.
Unbidden, my hips begin rocking against his mouth, and he groans low and deep as he pushes forward, hiking my legs over his shoulders at the knees as he scoops his hands under my bottom and pulls me more firmly against his mouth.
His tongue, his lips, his hot breath, the vibration that rumbles through my core every time he moans. I’m about to lose my mind with the need to come.
With my eyes still closed, my breath coming in short, almost panicked bursts, my head thrashes uncontrollably on my pillow as the sensations rise inside me. Somehow my hands find their way to his head, and my fingers drive into his hair, clenching down hard, gripping fistfuls of his thick, messy locks, making them even messier. His head rocks forward and back as his tongue lashes me, and then his mouth closes over my clit again, his tongue working in soft, tight circles that send me reeling.
“Ah!” My back arches as the telltale signs of pending release surge through me.
I hold my breath. I go completely still. The pleasure crescendos.
Then everything goes white as I explode in a powerful rush, and I clamp my legs around Gunner’s head, rocking my hips as every muscle in my body erupts.
Gunner’s mouth stays on me, his tongue pressed hard against my clit but unmoving, as if he instinctively knows any more stimulation right now would be too much.
My body quakes and shudders, and then I collapse against the mattress, thoroughly blissed.
My eyes are still closed, and I’m breathing heavily, a smile on my face.
Gunner remains between my legs for a long time, his lips pliant, dropping soft kisses up and down my labia, against my still-sensitive clit, on my inner thighs.
I’m in heaven. Talk about Christmas wishes coming true! Of all the things I wanted for Christmas, I never imagined Gunner would become my favorite gift.
Minutes pass, neither of us moving or speaking. Just when I think he’s fallen asleep between my thighs, he moves, gently lifting my legs off his shoulders. He eases off the bed without a word, tucks me under the covers, and then quietly tiptoes his way back to the bathroom.
Cracking my eyelids, I catch his retreating form just as he passes through the door, casts a quick glance back at me, and then closes the door behind him with a barely audible click of the latch.
Only then do I let out the heaviest sigh ever as I flop my arms to the sides and grin like a lovesick fool at my ceiling.
Gunner went down on me.
Gunner gave me an orgasm.
Gunner likes me.
Holy shit!
Chapter 4
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I’m out of bed the moment I wake up. There’s no time to waste after what happened last night. Everything’s different between Gunner and me now.
Darting into my bathroom, I cringe at my reflection and the tangled mass of blond hair around my face. I quickly brush it out before jumping in the shower. I’m done in record time and change into a pair of jeans and a Highland Creek long-sleeved tee before drying my hair and heading downstairs for breakfast.
My mom is already in the kitchen whipping up pancakes. My dad is sitting at the table, reading the news on his iPad while sipping coffee. Gunner is texting someone. His eyes meet mine briefly before he turns his attention back to his phone.
Hmph. Okay then. That’s not exactly the reaction I expected from him the morning after he licked me to Utopia.
“Good morning, honey,” my mom says as I make my way to the fridge with a little less enthusiasm.
“Morning.” I pull out the orange juice and pour a glass.
“Did you see Nick come home last night?” she asks.
I shake my head while downing my juice. Apparently, sex makes a girl extra thirsty. I pour another glass. “He still wasn�
��t home when Gunner and I went to bed.”
Gunner’s eyes shoot to mine, and I realize how what I said must have sounded. I feel like I just announced to the whole world that Gunner and I spent a lot of time in my bed last night. Together. Doing naughty things no one was supposed to know about.
But my mom is oblivious, cutting me off as I’m about to explain what I meant. “I’ll let him sleep in a little longer then. I’m sure he’s tired.”
My mom doesn’t even seem to mind that Nick was probably with Missy all night, and that they were probably having sex a dozen times. He may not have even come home. For all I know, he and Missy spent the night in a hotel. Not that I think her parents would let her do that, but she’s a college student, too. Her mom and dad can’t hold any illusions that she’s still a virgin like I am. She and Nick have been together four years. They’ve been having sex for a while. I’ve heard them.
God, I hope no one heard me last night.
I slide the jug of orange juice back in the fridge then take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“I hope he doesn’t sleep too late,” Gunner says, nonchalantly scrolling through his phone like today is just any other day. Like he didn’t sneak into my bedroom, whisper dirty declarations into my ear about how he was going to put his mouth on me and make me come, and then followed through on his promise. “He’s supposed to take me to my house this morning so I can get my mom’s car.”
I nibble my bottom lip then take a sip of my juice. Why would he need his mom’s car? Is he planning on going somewhere? Does this mean he won’t be staying with us, after all? What if he’s decided he can’t be here after what we did last night?
That would suck.
“Cami can take you,” my mom says brightly. Too brightly.
A cold rush blasts through my body, followed by heat as my face warms.
“You wouldn’t mind?” Gunner says, unaffected, like he never had his face between my legs or his mouth on my clit.
Maybe I dreamed the whole thing.
