My eyes fluttered closed when he tucked his thigh between mine and his face into my throat.
My head dropped back, his hands came to my hips, and before I knew it, they were rolling mindlessly to the music.
His lips walked a path up my throat, and his thumbs stroked at the exposed skin between my pants and my shirt, his fingers working their way under it and up the hot skin of my back.
My hips moved against his, but mostly they moved with him, dipping and swaying in such perfect unison that my hands raced to latch onto his hair, pulling his head back until his hot mouth met mine.
I worked his hair like I’d worked mine earlier, mussing it completely and driving his tongue further and further into my mouth.
Our tongues danced in time with our bodies, swaying and rubbing as our hips did the same. Goosebumps pimpled my flesh as his hands ran back down my skin, over my hips, and clawed gently into my thighs on an upward sweep.
My body felt like it was floating, completely connected with his as all thought fled. I was so fucking lost in that moment, I didn’t think I’d ever be found.
His teeth bit into my bottom lip and tugged it as the song slowed to a crawl. I moaned, long and low and so loaded with arousal that it had to have come all the way from my womb.
As the song started again, obviously set on repeat, my thigh skimmed up his, wrapping and clutching around his hip as we ground together. Rough fingers found the hem of my shirt, ripping it up and over my head before our bodies slammed back together.
Two giant hands engulfed my ass and lifted, spinning my cooperative body until it came to a stop back-down on the couch. He reached between his shoulder blades and pulled his own shirt off, the sight of his skin sending a spark cascading all the way through my trembling body.
The small amount of hair on his chest rubbed roughly at the skin of my breasts, his mouth mimicking his body and practically swallowing me.
His weight felt delicious on top of me, the buckle of his belt digging into me right above the strongest part of my ache.
My eyes fell closed again as he lifted up, taking his mouth from mine and rubbing the tips of his fingers down through the space between my throbbing breasts.
I didn’t see it coming when his lips touched the skin above my heart, moving gently as he called my name.
“Whitney.”
It sounded like a plea and an answer all at once, and his hand came up to cup the bra-covered breast underneath it.
I shifted just slightly, and bra-covered became uncovered, the straps sliding enticingly down my arms as he divested me of it.
His body came forward again, and his tongue found my nipple, the torturously slow pace he set as he licked a perfect circle around it causing my breath to come out in a stutter.
The rough scrape of his facial hair warmed the skin surrounding my nipple as his lips closed over the peak and sucked ever so slowly. His hair felt soft intertwined between my fingers, the tugs I gave it making his throat produce a hum that I felt all the way to my toes.
Moving his lips upward, he followed the curve of my collarbone, up and over my chin, and met my lips with his once more. His hands found my hair, gliding in and clutching it just behind my ears. Several strands pulled at my scalp, but none of it was painful.
Satisfied with what I gave back, he moved in a reflective pattern, back over my jaw, along the opposite side of my collarbone, and up the swell of my breast to the other nipple. Weightless in his warm palm, it was as though my breast swelled up to meet his lips so they didn’t have to do all of the work.
His eyes met mine as his lips sucked me deep once more, and the intensity in them made me feel like their blue pools were leaking into mine, morphing my irises into the much brighter color of his.
The pink of his lips was glossy with moisture when he looked up after releasing me completely.
Shoving off of the couch, he stood, and it didn’t take me long to follow. I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist, and he settled his large palms at my ass once again to hold some of my weight.
He made carrying me seem effortless, and his path to the bedroom couldn’t have been more direct, the slam of the door behind us thanks to his foot a huge contrast to the slow speed of our other ministrations.
Our pants were gone in an instant, all thanks to his quick work, and he was rolling a condom onto himself before I even knew where it came from.
“I’ll never be able to just dance with you for the rest of my life,” he told me, the hoarse whisper of his voice smoothing the rough edges of my nerves like the finest of sandpaper. “Every day for the rest of my life, this is gonna be burned in my brain,” he whispered as he spread my legs, his hands gliding up the inside of my thighs, finding their place in the bed beside me, and then entered me in one smooth motion.
“God, Blane,” I breathed as my fingers dug into the hard flesh of his back.
He moved slowly, to the rhythm of the music still thumping softly in the living room, and his lips came to mine, resting there as he spoke. “Best song ever.”
There was humor in his eyes, and I felt my breath catch as I choked out a laugh.
“Doesn’t get…much…better,” I agreed, the rhythm of his motion and the pleasure it caused interrupting my cadence.
He shook his head, his lips deliciously still on mine. “Doesn’t get better. Period. The end, baby.”
His fingers moved between us, surrounding our connection and moving softly over just the right spot for me as he told me, “I’m close, Whitney.” He shook his head, fighting it. “I’m so goddamn close. Come with me.”
I felt myself tighten around him, one of the sweetest, bottomless burns I’d ever experienced starting deep within me and robbing me of my vision.
He moaned down my throat, the bursts of hot air from his breath filling my mouth directly.
I’d never been so happy to breathe someone else’s spent carbon dioxide.
“I’m sad I haven’t been doing that with you since the day I met you,” he whispered, his weight in his forearm but still protectively shielding me while we lay connected.
I smiled, the afterglow of the experience so damn warm, I didn’t think I’d ever be cold again.
“We were in seventh grade,” I said on a squeeze.
His eyes got serious. “Alright. I’ll settle for doing it from here on forward. We should still get another sixty plus years out of it.”
My throat tightened, the idea of sixty years together so pleasure inducing, I thought I might orgasm a second time just thinking about it.
I felt vulnerable and afraid and like there was so much to fucking lose.
Looking to deflect the attention, I joked, “You think you’ll still be able to get it up in sixty years? I think that’s a little optimistic.”
“I’ve got a lot of time and a whole hell of a lot of motivation to figure out how to make it possible.”
His hand came to my jaw, and his thumb swept out to glide along the seam of my lips. He watched it go, digging it and the rest of his fingers in once he was done and kissing me until I was fully motivated too.
MY ARMS SQUEEZED HIM EVEN tighter on the way home, the wind feeling much colder and not nearly as friendly. I didn’t want to go to sleep in my bed without him. We’d made love again, taking only the time to change the condom, and then fallen into a far too short catnap together, a huge tangle of limbs and lips and hair. I found comfort directly on top of him, my hair spread all over my body and his, and my legs twisted and locked together with his much longer ones. My lips stayed directly on his throat, a sort of never-ending sleep kiss, and the smell of the skin on his neck made its way so deep into my nose, I hoped it’d never get out.
And now I knew it was ending.
At least for today.
As we rounded the corner to my house and saw emergency personnel of every kind and specialty filling the street and spilling every direction in my yard, I forgot about my sadness at the night having to end.
> “Blane!” I yelled, as if he couldn’t see for himself that something was obviously wrong.
I searched my house for Gram, but came up empty, the sight of the stream of water of the fire truck hitting the southwest corner registering far too late. The absence of flames and the fact that the rest of the house was still standing didn’t register.
Blane revved the throttle, sliding to a controlled stop as close to my house as he could get. I was off the bike before I even knew what I was doing, ripping the helmet off of my head and running toward the house.
My legs pumped, scrapping and scraping to go faster.
Blane caught me at the waist, half of the length of my yard still yawning before me, just as a policemen forced me to stop, breathing heavily in my ear.
I searched again, but I still came up empty.
“Oh my God. Gram!” I screamed, grabbing the police officer at his chest. Probably not smart.
Blane pulled me back hastily and turned me into his shoulder, tucking me away from the scene and doing his best to comfort me, much as he had done for his mother all those years ago.
His large hand spanned the side of my head, stroking my hair as he whispered in my ear. “I’m sure she’s okay, Whit. Just breathe, baby. Shh.”
“Do you know anything about her grandmother?” Blane asked for me. “She was in a bedroom in the back.”
“I’m sorry,” the officer apologized. “I haven’t seen anyone, but I just arrived on scene.”
“Thanks,” Blane answered, tucking me tighter into his body.
She was old. Freaking ninety for Christ’s sake. But she should have died happy and peaceful, asleep in her bed.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. This was all my fault.
I knew it wasn’t rational to only expect the worst, but that’s why my life had dealt me. An awful lot of worst case scenarios.
“This is my fault,” I said into his neck. “I never should have left her alone.”
“Don’t do that, Whit. Come on.” He mirrored my position, twisting his lips to meet my throat.
“Oh, Gram,” I cried again, the strength of my tears vibrantly renewed.
“What’s the deal, girl?” a familiar voice whispered from behind me. “You look like shit.”
My breath caught in my throat, jumping out and squeaking violently as I wrapped her in my arms. Blane let me go in order to let me do so, and I hugged her tighter than I’d hugged her brittle bones in a long time.
And then I got angry.
Murder of a ninety year old woman had to pull minimum jail time, right? I mean, she was on death’s doorstep already, I’d just be opening the door and nudging her through it.
Nudging.
Shoving.
Po-tay-toe po-tah-toe.
“Where the hell have you been?” I accused. “I was so worried about you!”
“Oh relax,” she told me. “I was talking to one of the cute firemen.”
“Jesus,” Blane said behind me, scrubbing his palm down his face in distress.
“Gram!” I screamed as my hands ripped at the wet tracks trailing down my face. “I thought you were dead! Stop making jokes!”
“Whit,” Blane whispered behind me, his hands coming to my hips to try to calm me down.
“No,” I cried, continuing to make a huge scene. “I was devastated!” I took a breath, lowered my voice, the words shaky as they made their way past the lump in my throat. “The thought of not having you around is devastating,” I told the woman who’d been there for me from the beginning. She was crazy and offensive, and she was one of the best goddamn things to ever happen to me. “I love every goddamn awful second that I spend with you.”
Going down on my knees on the hard concrete, I got closer, hugging my grandmother in her chair the way I would have hugged her when we laid in bed together.
“NeeNee,” she whispered. “Today is not my day, but I think you need to get ready. Even women as mean as me don’t live forever.”
I clenched my eyes shut against the pain I felt at the idea of losing her. Blane’s hand came down on my shoulder, squeezing softly from his position behind me.
Pulling my face from her neck, I asked, “What happened?” the guilt of my absence making me desperate to know the details.
She shrugged.
She didn’t know.
Bile rose in my throat.
“How’d you get in your chair, get out of the house?” I asked gently, hoping she could give me an answer, but not wanting it all the same.
The idea of her being there all alone and helpless made me feel violent. I wanted to hurt myself for being so stupid.
Gram’s eyes pointed over my shoulder. “He asked Cynthia from next door to check on me while you were gone.”
I turned to look at Blane. “You did?” He shrugged.
“She was already on her way over, saw the smoke, and called the fire department while she sent in Tony to get me.”
“Who’s Tony?” I asked, looking back at Gram, feeling ashamed that I had to.
A man stepped forward from a few feet over, stuck out his hand, and smiled a kind smile to try to make me feel better. “I’m Tony. I live on that side of you,” he said, pointing to his house.
I fought the wave of shame that overwhelmed me and did what I needed to. “I’m Whitney. Though, maybe you already know that. Thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said easily, waving it off.
“I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself to you until now,” I admitted, feeling like a fool for being such a bitch.
Blane’s arm wrapped around me from behind as Tony said, “That’s alright, Whitney. We know each other now, and now I know I can call in a favor.”
He added a wink as Blane leaned forward and shook his hand. “Blane Hunt.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Tony greeted, a genuine smile curving his lips.
Cynthia came over carrying her daughter, and I moved to her immediately. “Thanks, Cynthia. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’m just glad everyone’s okay. Though I won’t turn down offers for babysitting,” she said warmly, her tone slightly teasing.
I took it seriously. “I’d love to babysit,” I offered.
“We’ll let you get the damage sorted out first.”
Oh my God, the house. I hadn’t even thought of the house until that moment.
Turning quickly to appraise it, I found Blane gone from my back, and when I searched, I found him over talking to some of the firefighters.
While I stared at the charred section of house, I got lost in the moment.
What was I going to do while this was getting fixed? Where were Gram and I going to go?
A hand slid into mine, the long fingers working their way between mine without much of my cooperation. I looked down to observe it like it was someone’s hand other than my own.
Blane spoke softly as I did. “It looks like it was contained to the front room, probably something electrical. Since your grandmother was in the back of the house in her room the whole time, it’s really unlikely that she did something to start it. It’s just really bad luck and timing, but this fire could have started at any time.”
He reached for my jaw, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Whit. Don’t worry, okay? Insurance will cover the damage, and everyone is safe. That’s all that matters.”
“Where are Gram and I going to stay?” I asked, looking up at the sky.
He didn’t hesitate. “With me.”
I shook my head, not knowing if I was ready for it, not knowing if I could keep myself from getting attached.
“Blane, I don’t know if—”
“I do.”
I shook my head again, but he kept talking.
“I love you, Whit. And I love your grandmother almost as much. This is no hardship. In fact, this is what love is.”
AS IT TURNED OUT, IT wasn’t necessary to move out of my house at all. Once all the smoke cl
eared, figurative and literal alike, the scope of the damage was completely contained. They boarded up the front window, sectioned off that part of the house to be repaired, hung plastic to keep the rest of the house uncontaminated, and called it good.
I’d been relieved. Blane had pretended to be relieved, but really, he was upset.
He’d been trying to have another date for the last two weeks, but I’d been hesitant to do anything without Gram. The scare had been just that, a scare. But the reality that I needed to soak up all the time with her I could, was real. Soon, I was going to have to go back to my job and my normal life, and with the speed with which life flew by, hers would be over before I knew it.
Single-minded as always, I didn’t know how to balance that desperation with anything else.
That afternoon, he finally got fed up, showing up at my house, coming in without an invitation, and gently escorting my grandmother out to her spot on the deck to give us the privacy we needed to rip each others’ throats out.
“God, Whit. After that day at my house—shit, all of the time we’ve spent together—I can’t believe I even have to say this. But, please, I’m begging you, stop running away from me. I’m fucking sick of it.”
“I’m not running away from you,” I tried to explain. “I’m running toward her.”
I wasn’t sure if that would make sense to him, but the softening of his eyes told me it did. “Then let me run with you.”
I hadn’t even been letting him spend his days with both of us. I felt so guilty that I’d left my grandmother in the situation I did with the fire, and when Blane was around, I didn’t think as clearly as I wanted to.
Apparently, my avoidance was doing a good job of breaking both of our hearts.
“Blane—”
My hesitant tone put the hard right back into his eyes.
“No!” he rumbled. “You talk big about the way I abandoned you, but you’ve been avoiding me for years. Why didn’t you ever write me back, ever say anything about all the things I said to you?”
“Write you?” I asked, now completely confused. “What do you mean write you?”
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