by Brynne Asher
I can’t remember the last time I slept in, but we did. When she rolled into me this morning, burying herself so close she would’ve crawled under my skin if she could’ve, I couldn’t wait another second. I needed her again.
I’ll always need her.
She did as I asked and spread her legs farther, and I put my knees between hers to keep her where she is. I’ve been playing with her for a good while, so when I run my fingers between her legs, she’s drenched and jerks when I circle her clit with barely a touch.
Leaning with my forearm on the bed, I’m close to her face where she’s cheek to the mattress, on her knees with her ass in the air. Her eyes flutter open when I kiss her.
“You want something new?” I ask against her lips.
At the same time, I drag my finger through her wetness and up, circling her other hole so she’ll know what I’m talking about. I know she gets my meaning, her eyes go big at the same time her body tenses, trying to bring her legs together.
“What do you mean—” she starts, but I interrupt.
“Shhh.” I hush her gently, but put a firm hand on her ass to keep her where she is. I’m surrounding her from above, not that I’d have a problem keeping her where I wanted, even though I never would. “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to take me. Just my finger.”
“Your finger?” she exclaims loudly, surprised, and not in a good way.
“My little finger,” I clarify.
I don’t know what I expected, she’s no prude by any means, but this must be new for her. I like that even more.
“But, why?” Her voice turns breathy.
I tell her the truth as I start to play with her again. “Because I want all of you. Every inch, Addison. Never knew I could want you more than I did before I left, but every day I was gone, I wanted you more. Now that I’m back and we’re where we are, I thought we’d try something new, but it’s for you, too. I think you’ll like it.”
“I don’t think I’ll like it,” she shoots back right away. “Plus, I have no idea how big your pinkie is, I’ve never paid attention to your pinkie by itself.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t called it my pinkie since probably the second grade. You’re not making me feel much like a man calling my little finger a pinkie. Especially with what I want to do with it.”
She rolls her eyes before throwing me a bone. “What if I don’t like it?”
I spread my knees, in turn, spreading her farther. I do this to make a point. “You ever feel unsafe with me?”
“No,” she spouts, giving me a good glare.
“Have I ever given you anything you didn’t like?”
She sighs, looking like she might give in. “Of course not.”
“We’ve never talked about this, but you don’t like something, you say the word. Any word. I know your body, Addison. I have a feeling if you don’t like something, I’ll know it in an instant.”
“Seriously,” she groans. “I can’t believe you want to do this…that…whatever you want to call it.”
“With you, my sweet Abby,” I start as I glide my hand up the small of her back and press down. Her ass tips the way I want it and when I look back into her eyes, I tell her the truth. “I want it all.”
*****
Addy –
What is it with men and their fascination with anal play?
I’ve never had any experience with it and certainly none of my past lovers ever asked if they could hang around back there. Then again, I’ve never had a lover like Crew.
Crew’s never let me down, never given me anything I didn’t like, and I know he’d never hurt me. Plus, he did ask instead of just doing it. I guess that was nice. I shouldn’t speak for the masses, but I wouldn’t think anal-anything would be mainstream-cable-television, under-the-covers normal bedroom activity. This is new and different for me.
I mean, I’m already lying here, my ass in the air with my face to the bed, spread for him to do as he pleases. And he always pleases me. Always.
My words come out in a rush, because really, this takes it to a new level. For some reason, I think it could be embarrassing.
“Okay, I’ll try it. But only because we showered before bed. And you have to promise to stop if I don’t like it. Or if it’s embarrassing. I still can’t believe you want to do this. And by the way, tell me what the fascination is with it? I’ve never been asked to do it before—I don’t get it. And I don’t see how it’s even going to feel good—”
He puts a stop to my words with his lips to try and quiet me for the second time since we woke up. “You’re rambling. I thought you didn’t like to ramble.”
I widen my eyes. “I think I should get a pass on the rambling since you want to play around back there. Seems like a fair tradeoff to me.”
His grin shrinks before completely fading and I lose his dimple. This time he kisses me soft. “Missed you.”
His fingers return between my legs and move just enough to make me wiggle. He does it again, drags a finger through my wetness and up. Even though it isn’t a surprise this time, I instinctively clench my ass cheeks around his finger.
“Wait.” I try and stop what he’s doing. “Let me see your pinkie. You’re a big guy, your pinkie could be huge.”
“No.” He flat out turns me down and tells me to, “Relax,” before moving away from my face to kneel in back of me.
“What are you doing?” I mumble into the pillow, because this is too much.
Ignoring me, he settles back on his haunches, gently massaging the globes of my ass and backs of my thighs. I can’t deny it—it feels good.
“I’m okay with almost anything,” I say into my pillow. “But you’re massaging my ass. This is embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” His voice dips and his touch has moved from massaging to sensual in no time.
A finger dips inside my pussy, and it does feel a little smaller than it usually does. Maybe it’s the pinkie. I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering what he’s going to do next, when I feel it. His finger, wet and gentle, circling my hole that’s never gotten attention before.
He presses in slightly, and I tense.
“Please, baby,” he says softly. “Relax.”
He pushes again, this time breaking through, and stills.
Holy shit—figuratively and not—he’s butt plugged me with his pinkie.
It’s definitely weird, but I don’t hate it. This surprises me.
He lightly runs his fingers over the skin of my back, ass, and thighs. “My Abby.”
I can’t say I’m completely tranquil, but I do relax further into his touch.
“There you go,” he says and his other hand starts to play between my legs where I’m used to him being.
His fingers, they’re barely giving me anything when he starts to move his pinkie. It’s weird, foreign, and I’m not sure what I think about it. Every few strokes with his pinkie, he swipes my clit, making me warm and wanton.
“Crew,” I complain, fisting the sheets below me. When I push my hips back to find his touch on my clit where I’m burning for it, his pinkie slides in deeper, and I groan.
“There you go.” His voice is soft as he slides two fingers inside my pussy, but his next words shock me. “I want you to fuck yourself on my hand.”
“No,” I breathe. He’s teased me enough—I know I’d do it without question if it weren’t for the pinkie.
“Yes.” His response comes instantly as he starts to finger fuck me and tickles my clit, letting me know where his finger is but giving me nothing. All the while, his pinkie moves minutely and I swear it’s deeper than it was.
Everything—it’s all so overwhelming. I might like it, but I’m not sure if I really want it. Should I want it? I’m full everywhere, it’s new and strange and I can’t believe myself, but the more he teases me, the more I want it.
“Move, Abby.”
Damn, his voice is always so soft when he’s this way with me. Like a caress I can’t move away from or
say no to. There’s so many facets to him, I love them all, but I’ve become addicted to this one. I can honestly say, I’ve never imagined myself in this position before, my ass plugged with his pinkie and wanting his touch so badly, I’m willing to fuck myself on his hand, making that pinkie do who knows what to me. All the while, he’s got a front and center seat for the show. And during the day, too.
Oh, why couldn’t he have done this at night?
He tickles my clit one more time. “Move for me.”
That tickle. I want more.
Fuck it. Or should I say, fuck me.
I move a little and there he is, rewarding my clit at the same time it forces his pinkie to move inside me.
Holy fuck.
He’s right. It does feel good. Really good. Who would’ve thought?
I’m beyond being embarrassed, worried about his front row seat or where he’s got his pinkie. I’m simply beyond everything besides wanting it.
So I do exactly what he wants and move. I fuck myself on his hand, and I love it.
Like every time with Crew, he consumes me. This time I feel it everywhere, and he does it while giving me something new in the process.
Controlling it, he gave me what he wanted, when he wanted, and made me work for it. When I came, I came hard. I’m not sure when it happened during my orgasm, but I lost his hands and he had to prop my knees back up, but I got his cock. Even though I still feel where he’s been—pinkie and all—this is so good, I keep moving.
“Fucking beautiful,” he growls from behind me where his hands firmly hold my hips.
I might’ve been fucking myself before, but now it’s all Crew. He’s not slowly working up to anything this time, he’s moving fast and hard. Nothing’s ever been so perfect.
When he finally comes, pressing into me the way he does, I hear his familiar sounds I’ve missed so much. But I’m spent. I let my knees slide out from under me and he comes with me, staying buried deep. He doesn’t give me all of his weight but I do feel his warm body blanket mine.
He breathes into the top of my head where his voice is laced with a promise. “Never leaving you again.”
I turn my head as far as I can to see him. “Thank you.”
He kisses my temple. “For what, baby?”
“For coming back to me. For protecting me in ways I don’t even know about. For being everything I need, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for introducing me to your pinkie. Basically, for everything.”
He ignores most of my list and a slow, scruffy smiles spreads over his beautiful, dark features. “You liked my little finger.”
I try not to look sheepish and hide my own smile. “I didn’t hate it.”
He presses his still hard cock into me and grins. “You liked it. I told you so.”
I can’t help but glare. “Fine. You know everything. You have amazing sexual powers.”
“Amazing?”
“If you question it, you’ll prove you’re merely average instead of amazing. That’ll make me question the next kinky thing you want to do to me, Crew.”
He kisses me, almost playfully. “Then I’m amazing. Your all-knowing, all-powerful sex machine who now knows I can get kinky.”
I roll my eyes and ignore his kinky threats. “We need to get up. I’m hungry.”
He kisses me at the same time he slowly pulls out, but doesn’t move away. “I hate to leave you, but I need to check on Grady and catch up with the recruits. I’ll meet you back here for a late dinner?”
I sigh, happy and content for the first time since he left. He gets off me, but I call for him and he stops mid push-up. When he looks down at me questioningly, I raise my brows and widen my eyes, demanding, “You need to wash your hands. With lots of soap. Maybe even twice.”
He starts to do that silent laugh thing before he kisses me quick. I’m still lying in bed, relishing in his homecoming when I hear the sink turn on, and I smile.
Chapter 27 – Death
Addy –
What a difference a week can make.
I’ve had Crew back for seven full days. I didn’t think it could be better than it was before he left, but it is. It’s the deeper kind of better—better because you know what you have since it was gone for a time, and it’s the kind of better you know will be there for the long haul. Tomorrow, next week, even next year.
A future.
Imagining my life with Crew is a thing of the past because I know it’s real. He’s the foundation of my future, and knowing this, I can relish the present and live my life.
My attorneys are finishing up the loose ends of getting all allegations against Whitetail wiped clean from our record. I hope I won’t ever have to see Tobin McCann again. I hear he’ll probably make a deal for lesser charges and plead guilty to everything. Even so, he made false claims to government agencies, they don’t take that lightly. I don’t know how Crew found out—or how he finds out anything for that matter—but he said he might get a few months in jail with a couple years probation.
He won’t be needing white linen slacks and loafers in the slammer. That shouldn’t make me happy, but it does. I’m too happy in general right now to feel badly that it makes me happy.
Good riddance, Tobin McCann.
I’m happy for this headache to be wrapped up. Harvest is in full swing. The weather has cooperated for the most part and Morris has hired outside help for the job. They’ve been busy in my acres of vines. The grapes are cut by hand, and Van has been here at the crack of dawn every day. We’re also shipping to other vineyards in the region. The whole process can take up to ten days, working every minute of daylight.
Even with the harvest, Crew and I have fallen back into almost the same schedule we had before, but we’re both trying to work fewer hours into the evening. I’m loving it, but I’m behind on almost everything. If the Tobin McCann ordeal didn’t put me behind, the harvest certainly has. It might be time for me to outsource my bookkeeping because it takes a huge amount of my time. I’ve got a huge stack of mail piled up from the last week and I can’t let it go another day.
I pull out a heavy, legal size envelope from the middle of the pile that catches my attention. I frown when I see who it’s from because my business loan payments are on auto draft. I don’t know what I could be getting from my bank.
When I slide my finger under the flap and pull out the thick pile of papers, the cover letter does a perfect job summarizing the contents. My eyes bug out and I quickly flip through the first few pages where I find the cover letter didn’t lie. It’s the details for the loan to my land, home, and most importantly, my business. A business these papers are telling me I own free and clear.
I don’t know how long I sit here staring at the papers in my hand, shocked, but mostly infuriated. I have no doubt how it happened.
My disbelief turns red, into a fiery wrath. This winery is mine. I might’ve gotten the twenty percent to put down from what my mom left me, but I’ve been paying off my long-term loan faster than planned. At the rate I was going, it would’ve been paid off in fifteen years, instead of the twenty-year term. If I was really aggressive with my extra principal payments, it could’ve been paid off in twelve.
Fisting the pile of papers from my bank, I march out of my office. When I get to the tasting room, I wave the papers around as I call to Evan at the counter, “I’ll be back. I’ve got business next door.”
I don’t give him a chance to say anything. Heading to the front door, I see my newest employee wiping down tables. “Good morning, Maya. Cute dress.”
“Oh, thanks,” I hear, but don’t stop to chat. I’m on a mission.
*****
I pull up his drive quickly. It’s a beautiful fall day and it doesn’t surprise me to see him standing on his porch waiting. He slides his phone into his pocket, I’m sure he was watching me arrive on the cameras.
I guess I can’t be picky, but still find it annoying when they’re watching me, even if I was appreciative of them catching my
trespasser.
The second my foot hits the ground—Crew tips his head and even as he smiles, his brow furrows. “This reminds me of the day you threw my check in my face. This isn’t the way I left you in bed this morning, what’s wrong?”
I guess my transparent expression showed over the cameras. It must be a really good system.
“This.” I shake the papers in my hand at him. “I got this in the mail today, Crew Vega. What have you done?”
He loses his smile and walks down the steps. “What is it?”
“What is it?” I repeat, raising my voice. “It’s only the payoff details of my loan, Crew. For my land, everything on it, as well as my very large, long-term business loan. My loan for two point six million dollars!”
My voice, my yelling, even my anger doesn’t faze him. He comes close and simply confirms my tirade with an, “Ah.”
“Ah? Ah?!?”
He says nothing, but he does have the nerve to shrug his shoulders.
“What did you do?” I keep yelling.
“Baby, calm down. You were paying a shit-ton of interest.”
“Yeah,” I agree, exasperated. “Interest is high on a loan for over two and a half million dollars. It’s a lot of money.”
This time he says nothing, but he has the nerve to tip his head and raise an eyebrow, as if to disagree with me.
“It is!” I argue my point before asking him something I have a feeling I already know. “You paid off my business loan, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t even seem sorry when he replies, “Of course I did.”
“Why?” I wail.
“Because it’s not that much money and it was easy for me to do.”
“It’s not that much money? Are you crazy? I worked hard to get that loan and I’ve worked hard to turn the business around. It operated in the red for years before I bought it. I did it all on my own and I wanted to prove to myself I could pay it off, too.”
“You’re not on your own anymore,” he calmly states.
“But…” Honestly. I have no words. “Still.”
“You and me,” he starts and steps forward, closing the distance between us and pulls me to him. “We know death.”
