by Dakota Gray
I take him in and he throws back his head, a groan peeling his lips. I lean forward to taste him, to swallow any words he might want to speak that'll change us. His hips arch and roll, working me up and down his cock, leaving no part of my pussy untouched by him.
Yet the kisses reach deeper. His moans...they drip into me, filling me, and twist themselves into something sharper than need. His arms close tighter, and I can only take his cock, his tongue. Each stroke buries the darkness that wanted to eat us both. Every time we moan into each other’s mouths, the cycle begins again until I don't know what we are anymore.
I hold on to him as best as I can as he hollows out the rest of me and I can't do anything else but let him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROBYN
The next morning I'm still in Nate's bed. There was fuck else I could do. I was too raw, too tired—and I hadn't wanted to leave. He didn't ask me to stay, but if I moved more than an inch away from him, he'd pull me back into his embrace.
So here I am. I don't know this woman who buries her face in his chest as he breathes slowly, still asleep. He smells of sex, me, and there's only a hint of soap, and I’m sure that’s from the sheets.
He turns his head and presses his mouth to my forehead. I glance up. He’s still very much asleep. His face is relaxed, though he doesn't look vulnerable. I don't think it's possible.
I free myself from his embrace. I dig around until I'm dressed and I have my cell. I creep away to the living room.
Samantha answers with a groggy, “What?”
“I spent the night.”
“Are you walking funny?”
My knees do have a wobble, but that's not the point. “Now what?”
“Is he asleep?”
“What does that have to do with the price of tea in China? I spent the night. I used my safeword, and I haven't said one since—it's been a short forever. His sleep schedule is sort of a non-issue at the moment.”
“Have you eaten? You're always grumpy when you're hungry.”
“Samantha.”
She laughs. “I'm serious. Is he asleep?”
I glance back toward the room. No movement still. “Yes.”
“Wake him up.” I can practically see the lecherous smile.
“What?” I glare at my phone and shake my head. “Why would I do that when I'm having a mini-existential crisis?”
“I'm pretty sure you're not calling because you've suddenly decided you're not going to have sex with him anymore.”
I'm pretty sure I'm in way over my head. I hadn't thought this far ahead, and after last night... “Samantha—”
“What would you do if you found yourself at a lover's house?”
If I wasn't chewing my arm to get away from him by now? I'd wake him up so we could get the morning started on the right note. I don't have work today, but I do tomorrow. What do I have to lose?
Everything.
Shut up, inner voice.
But I know what Samantha is saying. It's another one of things we learned in support group. Life isn't about the big picture, but the next step. It's usually a small one, and not the big one pooling dread into your stomach. The important thing is to accept the facts first.
Nate, for all intents and purposes, is my lover.
My lover is asleep. Last night my lover took control when I was vulnerable. I couldn't help but be. He tore down the last of my barriers.
What I want to do is...make us even.
Samantha laughs. “I can almost hear the wheels turning. I love you, be safe.”
“Thank you. I know I'm acting out of sorts.”
“You've put the training wheels back on your life. Sure, you've decided to be Evel Knievel on your first ride out, but you're fine.” She pauses. “Though the next time you give me a cheek kiss, I'll know where your mouth has been.”
“You say these things to me, but when I say them back—”
“Bye!”
I'm laughing even after the call ends. I don't feel crazy. I do feel...light.
First step—a small one. I make my way back to his room. With me gone, he's shifted to his back. One arm is slung over his eyes and the other rests over his stomach. I tuck my phone into the sheets and slide between his legs.
“Nate?”
Nothing.
I say his name again, and he hums at me. I peel down the covers. During the night he slipped into some sweats. I hook my finger into the band. He didn't put on underwear.
“Nate, you should wake up for this.”
I place a kiss on his pelvic bone and glance up. I trace my tongue over his Adonis-line, and that gets a soft groan. I tug his sweats down and admire the view. His pecs and stomach are hard planes. I've run my fingers along them enough times to know how taut he feels, how smooth the trail of hair is. The scars are not just a part of him. They are a part of his very identity. He’s beautiful. I press my mouth to that beauty.
Down.
Down.
Then I close my mouth around the tip of his cock.
He washed up before bed, but with my nose so close, I can still pick up the scent of sex. A moan hums in my chest before spilling out. He shifts, as a deep, satisfied sigh rumbles through him. I close my eyes and let my mouth do the work. He's a grower. A groaner too. When he's nice and wet from my mouth I glance up.
His eyes are open but hazy. I flick my tongue over the slit and his eyes close again.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
This is why I haven't left. I may have shattered last night, but I feel powerful. I feel like me.
I glide my lips up and let him out of my mouth. I run a finger over my lips and look at him.
His jaw flexes. “Robyn,” he rasps.
I love the sound of my name in his mouth. So I reward him by locking my hands behind my back and feeding him back into mine. His hips rock up with my every downward stroke. I'm in the moment. I'm relaxed. It's nothing for me to swallow him whole.
He tenses, and I slurp my way up his shaft. “Don't come yet. I want to taste you now.”
I lap up his pre-come with long swipes of my tongue. I swear he's looking at me like he wants to choke me, and not in the good way. He doesn't come, though. He lets me have my way with his cock. Stroking it with my hand, tapping it against my tongue. And other filthy things. So many.
When I've pushed him to the very edge, his hands lock in my hair. I take him deep and hold him there. His hips jerk, frantic. Nate's groans come out in a staccato huff and I feel the warm glide of his come. I wait another second then ride my mouth up slowly. Down, up, again and again making sure to avoid too much hard suction on the tip. He's not the only one who knows how to give good head.
Finally, I straighten, once again running a finger over my lips. “Thanks for breakfast.”
He laughs and tugs me by the hair. The hold doesn't hurt, but it could, so I let him guide me up his body to his mouth. “The filth that comes out of you sometimes.”
“Like it?”
There's a smile tugging at his mouth when he says, “I thought I fucking told you to never do that without my permission.”
“Did you? I don't remember that.”
It's nothing for him to roll me onto my back. I expect a kiss, a hand under my dress—he settles between my legs and cups my cheek. I hold my breath and my muscles tense one by one.
Don't ask me.
Pretend like you didn't see the grief.
He tilts his chin up. “Was it enough?”
I relax beneath him. “I don't know.” It's the truth but I say it in a flippant way. To make my point, I spread my fingers over his scar. “What else can I have for breakfast?”
He brushes his thumb over my mouth. “I need food, or the next time I come it's going to be a puff of dust.”
I laugh as I'm sure was his intent. “Nate.”
His fingers feather over the corner of my eyes. “But I will be spanking you later.”
“Promise?”
His gaze goes soft. “Give me
that filthy mouth.”
I give it to him. It's enough.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
NATE
“I can deliver the computer today,” I tell my first official client.
This is a good moment. If only Robyn wasn't sitting on my desk in my home office with her legs crossed at the knee. I slap at her playfully to get a better view, and she glares down at me.
“Are you sure?” the man sounds wary.
What he doesn't know is that all I have to do is change the RAM on one of the computers sitting in the corner. He's paying for labor I've already done, but this is business. The most work left is boxing the thing up.
“You're local. I'll drop it off for you. You can run through it while I'm there. If you're satisfied, you pay me. If not, I go away.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
We make arrangements to meet later in the day and end our call. Robyn's brows are up, and I can see that she's impressed.
“I didn't know you could hold a normal conversation.”
She's such a smartass. “It's exhausting, but I manage.”
She braces herself with her hands on the desk but keeps her legs crossed. “I don't believe you.”
Prickly smartass. “What was your favorite picture? In my living room?”
“What's yours?”
“The fishing one.”
Her eyes drift to the side as she tries to remember. It's a picture of me and my Dad. We're both wearing those rubber overalls that go up to your forehead. It's a cliché thing. We're holding big fish and grinning for the camera.
“My mother took the picture. She caught the biggest fish but she was proud of her Georgia boys.” I smile, remembering. “I miss home when I look at it.”
“Why'd you leave?”
I run a hand down my mouth because that's a hard one. Everyone expected me to step into the shoes my father had left behind. “Too much tradition. Too many expectations.”
“You couldn't be a fuckboy, so you left?”
I laugh at her laser focus. She refuses to relent at my own fuckeduppedness. That's a real word. You can use it in Scrabble. “I could have been the governor of fuckboys. Georgia was muggy hot. My mother would have wanted me to take her to luncheons and shit. I got a taste of California and loved it. My real friends were here. It was a no-brainer to come back.”
“Come back?”
Right. I met Broken Virgin soon after my father's death. I didn't talk about him or my mother much. “I spent some time in Georgia after my father passed. My mother needed a hand around the house before she found her sea legs without him.”
She gasps and swallows. “I'm sorry to hear about your dad.”
I focus on her knee. “Thanks.”
She runs her finger over my mouth. I nip at the tip.
She asks, “Are you slowly dying after having to be normal for like five minutes?”
I like her. A lot. “I need to change out the RAM and get going.” I consider my options, and there's only one for me. “I'll order you another dress from Amazon. And panties. They can use the drone to get both items here in twenty minutes. I can't concentrate if you're not wearing panties.”
She's quiet, then she murmurs, “You want me to go with you?”
I'm not going to let the softness in her tone get to me. “Yes. Unless you have to work.”
Her gaze shifts away from mine. “My boss is very understanding.”
That's cryptic.
“Where else do you need to go?”
She was dropping it. So was I. “I also need to hit the gym. I'm sure Tarek has called my phone fifty times by now.” I steal a glance. Her expression is open again.
“Why didn't you go to the gym?”
“I slept in.” Then she sucked my brain out through my cock. Those words didn't need to be said.
She smiles anyway like I did. “Stop buying me stuff. I'm starting to feel like an escort.”
I shrug. “Go home and be back within an hour.”
She slides off the desk then bends down to leave a kiss on my cheek. It's sweet. I hate her a little for it and for the way my heart speeds up. Then she's sliding past me out of the office door. I do my best to not tackle her to the floor because my cock is in love with that virginal white dress she's wearing.
I drag my attention to the corner where work waits for me. I can push her to the back of my mind. I'll see her again, and I know when.
***
After an hour of being asked a million stupid questions by the client, I have a check in my pocket that proves I'm a sole proprietor. The IRS is going to love me this year.
Robyn is trailing beside me as we make our way to the weight room. It's late afternoon, and that means Tarek's break is coming up. He's shaking hands with clients, and because I've known him for a long ass time, I can spot the strain in his smile as he answers questions.
And then he sees Robyn. His shoulders go up an inch. His mouth tightens. The skin around his eyes seems to pull taut as he glares at her. He's talked to Duke. I have no doubt of that.
Men gossip like women. They just use less words when they do.
“You know he's still fucking Robyn.”
“He is? Dumb fuck.”
I'm sure that's how the conversation went.
I don't reach for her hand—a small signal for my friend to back off. She can hold her own. Fuck, she can probably bite off Tarek's head, and he'd thank her for it.
The last of his trainees leave and he approaches us. He offers her a hand and a smile. “Robyn.”
“Tarek.” She gives him the smile and he blinks for two seconds.
Something like vindication fills me. It's not just me. That smile of hers makes everyone dumb, and because I know she's about to fuck up Tarek's world, too, I stand back to enjoy it.
And try not to laugh.
“Duke,” she says, “I've heard about. You, not so much. It's good to meet you.”
His chin lowers. She’s treading on thin ice. “What do you think you know about Duke?”
“I think he can eat my attorney for breakfast. I respect that. I’d love to pick his brain.”
Tarek frowns, unsure how to take the compliment on his friend’s behalf, and she’s pulling at the tips of her fingers—nerves. I’m about to jump in and save them both from this conversation when Tarek asks, “And him?”
The ‘him’ is me. I'm curious about her answer. She's in over her head with me, but not yet drowning. She bites her bottom lip and throws a glance my way. Heat in her gaze, a softening in her stance. What she feels for me is real in that moment. Once again, I'm holding my breath like I don't need air. She's stolen it just by existing.
“That answer is complicated,” she finally says.
“Could be simple,” I counter.
Tarek puts his fat mouth back in our exchange. “And how would you make it simple?”
At that I'm back on his side again. “Yeah, Robyn?”
She laughs. “Nothing is simple with you. Does that answer your question, Nathan?”
Nope.
She turns her attention back to Tarek. “I like your friend when he's being a person.”
Tarek laughs. “Everyone feels that way.”
I'm over this conversation. “Okay. You've met him. Let's go.”
“See,” she says. “Complicated.” She puts her hands on her hips and glides into my space. “And I thought we were staying so I could watch you sweat? You won't dance for me, so I have to ogle you in any way I can.”
“Was that our deal?” Take note: I'm not telling her no.
Another step and she's pressed against me. “You can always just dance for me.” Tongue. Lip.
I wrap my hand around her waist, and with the other I'm giving Tarek a peace-out sign. “Catch you later.”
His face scrunches up as though he's confused or can't believe what he's seeing. After a head shake he mouths to me, Be careful.
Be careful around her, with her? With Tarek he probably means the latter.
He's never approved of the way I've treated lovers. More than once he's told me I get them hooked like addicts and then drop them. That's another reason I don't want him and Robyn talking to each other. That's a stark truth conversation waiting to happen.
So I nod at him, and I clasp Robyn's hand to lead her back out to my car. It's mid-afternoon. The sun has decided to beat back the cool air. My beat-up Jeep looks out of place alongside the Mercedes Benzes, Escalades and the occasional Prius, but on a sunny California day like today, I'd always choose my ride.
I open the car door for her and go to work taking off the roof. When I climb in beside her, she has her head tilted up to the sun, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. The way she sighs makes me think she hasn't done that in a while—close her eyes and enjoy the heat of the sun on her face.
My stomach and heart squeeze. Her job can't be the reason she feels the need to bask in the simplistic moment. Unlike Duke, she takes time off.
Questions race through my mind, but I'm not willing to ask them and break this moment for her. I had plans to take her home and give her a private show, but I start the car with a different destination in mind.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NATE
She glances up at the sign above the club. “Cat Daddies?”
“What kind of name did you expect for a male-only strip club?” I bang on the door harder than the police. The parking lot is practically empty since it's shy of four, but Lance's car is out front. Takes the man about two minutes to open the door and growl at me that the place is closed.
That's until he sees it's me. A smile whips out. His once-black strands are now silver. Even his beard has gone white. Too many years in the California sun, and not enough protection, have deepened the grooves on his face. The denim and dress shirt are complimented by the rugged work boots.
He's the king of Cat Daddies and knows it. I have a begrudging respect for the man. He tests that every chance he gets.
He whoops at the sight of me. “Son of a bitch.”
Testing me right out of the gate. I scowl at him. “I told you about saying that to me.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture. “It's been years. Please tell me you're coming back.” Then he notices Robyn behind me. “Fuck. You always did—”
