by Ella James
His grip on me loosens, then he lifts his head and blinks. “Gwenna?” He squints, as if the lamp beside the sink is too bright.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
He frowns and looks around, confused. Then looks down at himself. His eyes widen. His gaze flies to the toilet.
“Did I get sick?” His voice is hoarse.
I nod. I stroke a curl that’s pasted to his temple.
Barrett cringes. He brings a hand up to his forehead, shuts his eyes. I notice it’s his left hand, and my heart squeezes as the thumb and index finger curve around his head.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t hear your dream. I was really out, I guess.”
He moves his hand, so I can see his anguished eyes. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I touched you. Go back to bed, Gwen. I’m just going to get a shower.” His eyes drop to his knees, his face expressionless as his gaze lifts back to mine. “Maybe I should go,” he says more firmly. “I’ll come back in a little while. I’ll bring you breakfast. Anything you want.” He gives me a small smile.
“Did you dream about me?”
I see his throat move as he struggles to swallow, and I wish I hadn’t asked. I put my hands on his knees.
“It’s okay.” I try to hold his gaze, as if I have that power—to keep him focused on just me. “You see me right here. I’m okay.”
His eyes shut. I lift one of his hands, enfolding it in my own. “Let me start your shower. Then I’ll go if you want some space.” I squeeze his hand lightly before I let it go and step over to the shower.
Maybe I said the wrong thing, I think, as I point the shower head away from me and turn it on. If he doesn’t want space, he might be too embarrassed to ask me to stay, and now I’ve mentioned leaving.
By the time I lean out of the tub space, he’s standing over by the wall. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, a towel wrapped around his waist. His body is so big, so chiseled and strong, and yet…he looks vulnerable. I can see it on him, now that I know his face.
I wave him over. He keeps his eyes on the floor as he steps to me.
I can’t help reaching out and touching him again, my palm against his lower back. “I could get in with you. If you didn’t mind company.” I hold my breath as I look up at him.
His eyes still have that dazed look. My stomach clenches, seeing it. Without further debate, I pull the shower curtain back a little more and step in. I turn around to him and hold my hand out.
With his jaw tight and his eyes hard now—or just blank—he throws his towel over the rod and steps into the shower without touching me.
The surge of pleasure I feel watching him move is dampened by how serious he looks, how unhappy. I can feel it radiating from him.
Once again, like many times before, with him, my heart pounds and my head feels light; I want to freeze up, step away, but instead I close the gap between us, praying when I wrap my arms around him—
Yes.
You’re never wrong about this, I tell myself as the tension leaves his muscles and his forehead lowers to my shoulder.
He’s never going to ask; I make a mental note of this as we stand here together, his cheek warm against me. One of his hands cups my hip, and I lean my cheek against the top of his head.
As the water warms fully, I bring him into the spray and rub soap over his steel-hard arms and shoulders.
I notice his curls are plastered to his face, and push them gently off his forehead.
He lifts his head and looks down at me with a grave expression on his face. With his lashes and his hair wet, his eyes look round and blue and earnest.
I run the soap bar from his triceps to the soft crease inside his elbow, then along the inside of his forearm. Despite how thick and muscled he is, his soapy skin is soft as silk. His wrist is lean and square. I thread my fingers through his, squeezing gently in the spaces in between digits, then moving up toward his knuckles, massaging his hand the way a physical therapist once did mine before I left rehab.
His face slackens and his eyes slip shut.
I rub all the pressure points on his hand, hoping to draw his attention here and out of his head. Maybe I do, because a moment later, his free hand takes the soap from mine. He pulls his other hand out of my grasp, lifts his forearm up to push his hair out of his eyes, and holds my gaze with his raw, bare one as he runs his soapy hands down my arms, then down my lower belly.
He shuts his eyes and groans, but he continues stroking me, from collarbone to ribs, from ribs to hips; he soaps my lower back, the curve of my backside, and then his hands rove up my ribs and find my breasts. He cups them.
His head is down, so I can’t see his face, but I can hear him breathing as his fingers catch my nipple. I let out a soft squeak.
His length presses against my belly. I reach down and catch him with both hands. With one I cup his soapy head; the other glides down his thick shaft.
“I never got the chance to do this earlier,” I whisper.
His eyes shut, and his hips jerk.
“Gwenna, you’re too good…”
He pushes himself closer to me, causing my hand to glide down to the base of him. Bear grips one of my shoulders, breathing loudly as I thumb his head and drag the hand that was gripping his shaft under his heavy, soapy balls.
I see his eyes roll slightly. His jaw locked, his features tense, he moans low in his throat as I pump up and down his shaft, lingering at the rim of his head and tugging gently on his sac.
“Oh fuck…” He pushes his hips toward me, and his mouth takes mine the way he does so often: gently at first, and then hard, desperate, as if he can’t stop, like he’s dying and my mouth is life.
He strokes my breast with gentle fingers, though his mouth is more and more demanding; needy: rough and almost hurting. He moans; I breathe it in. I stroke up and down his long cock, loving his small shiver.
“Gwen…”
I look up at his face, so starkly beautiful, so dazed with lust. I squeeze the base of his cock. “I want you inside me, Barrett.”
He makes a low, hoarse sound. Then he pulls me close and guides me as we get down in the bottom of the tub: him lying on his back, me straddling his hips. He lifts his knees. I feel the plump head of him pressed against my crack.
I reach around behind myself and grab him just under his head. I move so that I’m crouching over him instead of kneeling. My legs shake as I rub his head against myself, loving the warm, slick pressure of him gliding against my lips, then pushing at my core.
When he’s thrusting into my hand, grunting and grabbing at my hips, I lift my ass, position him so he can drive straight home, and sink down on him, moaning as I’m filled beyond the point of pleasure, my ass kissing his balls. Having him so deep inside me makes my legs feel weak. Makes me moan and sigh and cry out.
Barrett moans, too.
Without lifting my hips, I thrust against him, pushing him into me and holding. Then I wiggle up and off him, reaching down to hold his shaft with only his head penetrating me for a minute. I sink down slowly.
“Fuck…”
When he’s so deep, and I’m so tightly spread it’s almost painful, I draw a shaky breath and grind against him, rolling my hips as if I’m doing a hula hoop. Barrett’s hips lift under me.
“Oh, God…” he moans. “Fuck.”
His big hands grab my hips and hold me to him. He rolls his hips, too, so I can feel his head probe deep inside me, kissing my G-spot. I gasp as my core constricts around him. Or maybe he swells. All I know is it gets tighter. I’m seeing stars and panting like some kind of animal.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groans.
I clench around him, rise slowly up, then center him and sink back down again. It feels so good—God, every time! My back arches. I make this grunting sound that would embarrass me…but I’m so full of him, there’s nothing I can do. He’s breathing harder now, faster. I shut my eyes and feel him lift me slightly off him. I grip his thighs as he lets go of me, so I’m impaled w
ith his dick.
“Aghhh!”
“God—that sounds so fucking sexy. You’re so beautiful.”
My greedy hands stroke his lower belly, my fingers skating down his happy trail and toward where we’re joined.
“Touch yourself,” he rasps.
I slide my hand toward myself, feeling my swollen lips, my dripping pussy, and the steel girth of him, hard and thick, spreading me open.
I’ve never felt anything so hot in all my life.
“Oh, Lord…” I lean back on instinct, exposing the base of him so I can grind my clit against it. As if he can hear my thoughts, his fingers part my swollen pussy lips. He finds my clit and rubs.
It’s just the barest touch—but his finger is calloused. As he touches me, he thrusts, bouncing me atop him so I feel every inch of his stiff, thick, swollen dick, even down to when it pulses slightly.
I reach back and find his balls and watch his face come undone: lips parted, his eyes rolling. I see him moan. He strokes my clit. I cup his balls. I manage to rise off him one more time before his finger makes me burst.
I’ve never felt my pussy go so crazy on a dick. I clench and pulse around him. Barrett groans as he explodes inside me. I can feel the warmth, the blissful fullness of him as he comes.
Barrett groans again and pulls me down atop his chest.
“This feels perfect…”
His hand cups my cheek against his chest.
“You’re perfect.” I can feel his lips against my hair. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asks.
“No.” I give a giddy laugh. “Hell, no.”
His legs hug my lower body. I stroke his forehead.
“Let’s get out. This tub is so hard…”
His eyes are tired. His smile is soft. He sits up and scoots us back, so he’s leaning against the back of the tub. Then, with gentle care, he slides out of me.
“Water’s going cold.” He blinks and smiles this funny little smile.
Even as his hand smooths over his thick halfie and I quickly clean myself, I’m dizzied by the most delicious throb.
“That felt amazing,” I murmur.
He leans forward, grabbing my hand and drawing it to his lips. He kisses my fingers, then he stands up, lifting me with him.
He climbs out of the tub ahead of me, thrusting a towel behind the curtain.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Damn—his voice is sexy. I tuck my towel around my chest and step out. Barrett wraps a towel around my hair and kisses my lips.
“You’re so fucking good.” He looks into my eyes.
I smile. “You are.” I can’t resist reaching out to touch one of his curls.
He strokes my jaw. “I like it when you touch me.” His voice sounds lower, rougher than his norm. I realize it’s thick with emotion.
I step closer to him, wrap my arms around his hard back.
“You know you’re supposed to talk or write about your dreams,” I smile up at him, “but maybe I can sex them out of you instead.”
“You volunteering?”
“I think I may be.”
He chuckles. “Sex them.”
“I don’t often say the F-word. Nothing wrong with it, just doesn’t feel right to me.”
He grins. “You’re blushing just from saying ‘the F-word.’”
“You’re dimpling, so there.”
I smack his pec and step to the sink. “I fell asleep last night before I could show you where I keep things.” I open a drawer and get my toothbrush and toothpaste out.
Barrett smiles, crooked and dimpled. “Is that a Nemo toothbrush?”
“Yes. And look, don’t laugh at it, because it’s the only one I have. You can borrow it if you want— have it. And tomorrow I’ll buy both of us new ones.”
His face shutters. My stomach flip-flops. I thought things were going well with us, but—
“You don’t have to use mine. I would totally—”
“I will.”
God—he looks serious. Like he just found out…something awful. I chew my lip.
“Barrett?”
He blinks, still solemn. I step slightly closer to him, and am stunned to see his eyes look glossy.
“Oh…” I reach for him. “Are you—”
He blinks and leans away from me. He smiles, but it’s a half smile—and it’s sad. “I’ll use your toothbrush, Gwenna. I’ll get you another one.”
I realize how he worded that, and I think maybe I understand. “It was the thing I said about getting us both a toothbrush. Too much?” My head throbs. My throat aches. “I get that,” I manage in a steady voice.
He pulls me to his chest so quickly I don’t know what hit me. I feel his big arms lock around me, his cheek press against the top of my head. I feel him take a breath, and then another one, before he whispers, “Not too much.”
I don’t know whose heartbeat I hear: his or my own—but it’s racing.
“Not too much.”
I feel frozen as I press my cheek against his chest. He strokes his big hand up and down my back.
This.
This is what was missing.
This is what I’ve waited for.
I hold him, and he holds me, and warmth seeps into my heart. Words crawl through my mind, but they’re so flimsy, so inadequate. My eyes are closed, and all I feel is his big body around mine. Protecting me—and wanting me.
“Go wait for me in bed, Piglet. When I get in, I’ll rub your back.”
“You figured out my weakness.” I smile against his chest.
“It was easy.”
I run a finger down his abs.
“Another weakness?” He smirks down at me.
“Oh, yes.”
With one more long smile shared between us, I go wait for him in bed. A few minutes later, Bear climbs in behind me, tucking me against him for a long moment before he eases me onto my stomach.
I awaken the next morning to an eyeful of Barrett’s beautiful back, bathed in sunlight. He’s lying on his stomach and he’s reading—
“What is that?”
He gives me sexy side eyes, followed by a hot-as-hell smirk. I lunge at him. He bounces me off his broad back with so much precision, I land right where I was lying to begin with. Then he stretches above me, holding the book above my head.
Finding Calder.
“Don’t be grabbing at my book,” he says in a gravelly voice. “They’re at the springs and Eden’s clothes are off.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I reach out and grab the one thing I think might make him drop the book.
The expression on his face—that pained shock morphing quickly into pleasure—
Good Lord, it’s hot as Hades.
He falls onto his ass, leaning back on his strong arms. I bend down to lick the head of him, loving the moan that comes from deep inside his chest, the tremble of his thighs as my tongue winds its way down toward his balls and then back up.
I love how inarticulate he gets, just moaning as he leans his head back. A few long licks later, he falls fully back onto the bed, lifting his hips and grasping at the covers as I suck him.
At one point his eyes slit open and I catch the groaned words “on your back”—an order for me?—but I take pride in keeping him right where he is. He thrusts at me again and tugs at my hair. I cry out at the unexpected pain, but the vibration of my mouth around his cock just makes his fingers twist my hair more tightly.
I can tell he’s out of it: the way his body jerks, the loud, unsteady breathing… I can taste his precum when I swallow.
“Gwen…”
A second later, his dick swells, his legs tense, and he barks my name as he comes. I swallow, and his big hands cup my head against his thighs. I’m still finishing the job as he says, “Fuck.”
He jerks away from me, drawing out of my mouth. I look up into his wide eyes as his hand touches my hair. “Did I hurt you?” he asks in a low, regretful voice.
I grin, wiping my mouth and shaking my
head. “Did you like it?”
Rising to his knees on the mattress, he wraps his arms around my head and pulls me to his chest.
His fingers massage my scalp, but I can hardly even feel it. All I feel is warmth and need. I’m so turned on, I find my tongue flicking his abs.
He reaches down into the panties I pulled on before I got into the bed last night and parts my pussy lips with agonizing care. He drags a finger down my slit and sinks into me. “So wet, Gwenna.”
Then I’m on my back and his tongue is writhing up and down my slit, teasing my core, where his finger is still buried, then rolling like melted butter over my poor, throbbing clit. I grip the fingers of his hand that’s holding my hip.
Barrett groans, and by the time I’m panting, needing to get off, I look down between our bodies and I see how hard he is. I have to have him.
“Please… inside.”
His gaze flicks up to mine as if to make sure that I’m sure. I nod.
There is nothing sexier than Barrett with one hand around his dick, rolling his head around in my wetness, teasing my clit until I’m whimpering.
When he finally pushes into me, I actually scream. I laugh. He laughs, but his eyes are closed. His face is tense and reverent. His cheek rests against my breast; he sucks me as he surges deep inside me. I clench around him and feel him swell. I come the next breath. Barrett grunts and spills into me right after.
Then I’m lying in his arms. His eyes look tired and his lips are quirked up in a gentle smile.
“I’ll go get something…”
He drops a kiss on my temple and pushes up, to leave the bed and get a towel. I pull him back down.
I can’t say it out loud—too naughty—but I like the way it feels… Just us, and no cleanup. I’m sleepy, too, and I just want him curled behind me for a minute.
TWO
BARRETT
November 12, 2015
“Fucking hell, man.” Bluebell’s hand comes under my right arm, holding me against him as the car swerves. “Dove, take the road right there. That one!”
“Is that a road?”
“Yes. Take it!”
