42. Ethan
forty-two
Maybe I should have told her I was on my way from the airport, but I didn’t want her to get all crazy about fixing her hair or running to the store or whatever else she would have thought was necessary. Now I’m kind of rethinking that—too late—because it feels like I just lied to her.
Truth is, I want to see her reaction when I ring the doorbell.
But shit—I should have killed the engine to keep this a surprise. The door swings open as I pull up to her house. She’s in my jersey, nothing else that I can see, and she’s running to me barefoot on her gravel driveway.
I swing off the bike and catch her flinging herself at me. “Ethan, oh Ethan—you’re back!”
I lift her to me so she’s off the harsh ground, so she’s entirely in my arms, so she can wrap herself around me, so her eyes are almost level with mine, and her mouth caresses my lips.
She cups my face softly in both her hands. Her gaze roams my features, as if she’s checking if I’m alright. For a beat that feels like an eternity, we just look at each other, our heartbeats echoing into each other’s chests, our eyes saying things we both understand. I missed you so much. I never want to be away from you again.
But this is our life, now.
I run one hand down her back and confirm my suspicion. She’s butt naked. Fuck. Reading me, she kisses me hard as I carry us inside the house, her taste of chocolate lingering on my tongue.
I kick the front door closed, carry us to the bedroom, remember to close that door as well, due to Damian.
Grace tears my windbreaker off while I fumble us to the bed, then pulls my T-shirt over my head, trailing her hands down my torso to my abs and below. “I missed you,” she says, unhooking my belt.
I run a hand over her naked thighs, “You missed me… or my cock?”
She smiles deviously. “Okay, you win. I missed your cock.”
But her eyes are on mine and nowhere else, searching my soul, her lips tentative when they meet mine again as she pulls herself up to kiss me. Her eyelashes flutter closed as she wraps herself around me again.
God, but I missed her. Missed her warmth and her surrender, missed how she gives herself entirely to me, missed how she makes me feel whole again.
She runs her hand in my hair, down my nape, her breathing uncertain, her legs tighter around me. “Take me,” she says. “Take me like I’m yours.”
I rear my head back. “You are mine.”
“Always were,” she whispers and my throat tightens at her words. Thank god my dick is not the emotional kind because my woman wants me to take her, and I’m not sure she’d be too pleased if I went limp right now. But that’s how moved I am. I don’t care whether I fuck her brains out right this minute or not. I just want to hold her and make the world right for her.
But then she adds, “Always will be… yours.”
And Jesus Fucking Christ. My brain shuts down, and my whole body takes over. I make quick work of the rest of my clothes. As I enter her, her whimpers drive me wilder and wilder. The headboard bangs against the wall, her nails dig into my back, her perfect little pussy sucks me in. “S-sorry, I’m coming,” she whispers as she clenches around me.
I lean down to suck her nipple, and she cries out, her features beautifully transformed, her eyes rolling back as she cries out my name. “Ethan, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
Fuck. I did this. She’s so beautiful, I hold it, focusing on staying hard for her, on putting her first, on giving her whatever she needs, even if there’s nothing more I want right now than to come inside her.
As she comes down from her orgasm, she repeats, “I love you, love you so much,” holding my head to hers, caressing my back, kissing my face.
I watch with utter awe, too stricken to say anything back. The power of Grace’s love unlocks something deep inside me.
She settles in the bed, eyes closed, a small tear pearling at the corner of her eye. Still maddeningly hard, I slowly get out of her. “What’s wrong, babe?”
Her eyes softly open on me. “I’m so happy.” A small smile forms on her face.
I wipe the back of my hand where the tear is hesitating to fall. “You’re crying.”
She shakes her head. “Tears of joy.”
“Really?” I kiss her lips softly, looking for a sign that she’s lying. A trembling. A set in her mouth. I don’t find anything, but that doesn’t mean she’s not hiding something.
Her hand sets on my chest, and she pushes me slightly. Getting the hint, I flip us so she’s sitting on me. She slides down to my legs and looks up at me, my cock beating between her breasts.
Then she goes down and licks my shaft, her eyes on mine. Takes me deep until my cock hits the back of her throat, darts her tongue and sucks on me and fuck. Fuck, she’s hot. And fuck, she knows how to please me.
I pull her head off my cock before she decides to suck me dry.
“I’m coming inside you first. Then you can do whatever you want to me. But first you need a little break.”
“I don’t need a break.” She whimpers and climbs on me. “Ethan,” she sighs in that little voice that drives me wild. Straddling me, she lowers herself on me, her breasts bouncing just so. “Ethan? Did you miss me?” she teases.
“What do you think?” I growl. “Fuck you’re so wet. How did you get so drenched again so fast?”
Her eyelids drop. “One look at you.”
I place my hands on her hips, pistoning her up and down on me. She whimpers at my bossiness and brings her hands to cup her breasts. My cock twitches inside her in response.
“Tell me. Do you get wet for me all the time?”
Her eyes roll back in pleasure. “All the time.”
“Anywhere?”
“Everywhere,” she breathes.
“Fuck.” I sit up and turn us around. I want her pinned under me. I want her at my mercy. I want to control her orgasm again.
She bites her bottom lip.
“Let it out, babe. Tell me.”
She wraps her legs around my back and moans. “You feel so good. Fuck me harder. Harder.”
And so I let it out, the sound of our juices and her noises and the smell of sex taking over.
“Do you like my cunt?” she whispers in my ear. “It’s all yours. Take it. Take it hard.”
As she clenches around my dick, I empty myself into her in long, uncontrollable spurts, her aftershocks sucking me dry.
“I do like your cunt, you dirty little girl.”
At my words, her inner walls clench around my dick again. “Fuck, you like my dirty talk?”
She pulls me harder inside her with her legs. “Before the sun is up, I’m giving you the blow job of your life.”
We end up falling asleep, tangled in each other. When I wake up, Grace is lying mostly on me, emitting rhythmic, soft hums, Grace’s adorable version of a snore.
How much more perfect can she be? She’s always had my heart, but now I’m finding out she likes my dirty talk, maintains she gets wet just looking at me, and is planning on giving me the blow job of my life. And her snores are lighter than a cat’s purrs.
The need to possess her again and right now coils deep in my lower stomach. Breathing deeply into her hair, I run a light hand across her back.
With one hip movement, her pussy is against my dick, and she’s grinding against me. “Take me again.”
I take her lying on her side, leg thrown over my torso, her eyes on mine. She comes with a soft wail, fingernails digging into my shoulder, and when I follow, my orgasm is so powerful I grunt harder than I ever have.
After I clean us, she tucks herself against me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming tonight? I would have made food, and changed the sheets, and—”
“I didn’t want you to fuss like that. And also, I was scheduled to fly in tomorrow, but there’s a hurricane going up the coast. My C.O. gave me the go-ahead to fly home earlier so I wouldn’t be stranded down there.”
“I like your C.O.”
I like him too, and not just because of the extra time. He’s got this sense of humor that just makes the hardest things easier to handle. “Don’t get too excited. He wants me back in a couple days.”
She goes stone cold in my arms, then takes a breath and says, “Yeah, I kinda expected that.” Then she lifts her beautiful face to me and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Are you hungry? I have some leftover lasagna Mom made, and a bottle of wine, and a slice of apple pie your mom dropped off yesterday.”
“Boy, aren’t you the hostess,” I tease her.
She gives me a big smile. “I know! Working on it, with both our mothers’ help.” Then she turns serious. “You know, I make a mean quiche.”
Now my stomach is rumbling. “I did not know that.”
She nods. “Chris taught me.”
“Must be pretty good, then.”
“It’s the bomb.”
“Will you make me one?”
“Sure. Not tonight, though. Tomorrow, since you’re leaving soon. Wait—you’ll be going to the farm, right? And—”
“Wherever I’m going, you’re going,” I say, nipping in the bud that nonsense about “taking things slow.” Then I scissor upright on the bed. “And right now, I’m going to heat up that lasagna. You coming?”
I nearly trip on Damian as I come out of the bedroom. He jumps at me like he’s a puppy and follows me around in the kitchen, Grace right behind us. “What’s with the yoga pants?” I ask her as I take two plates out of the cupboard.
Pulling the lasagna from the fridge, she plucks a small piece of cold crust and nibbles on it. “I don’t eat with my butt naked.”
“I seem to recall very differently.”
She gives me a shy smile, the same memories flooding the two of us. “Breakfast doesn’t count.”
“I see. You have standards.” Looking outside to the deck and seeing the new furniture, I add, “Oh wow. Totally hostessing. The whole yoga pant getup makes perfect sense now.”
She slaps me playfully on the chest, then proceeds to nuke the lasagna.
Minutes later we’re outside on a large, low sofa, our feet on a matching ottoman. Grace wasn’t hungry, but she’s still nibbling from my plate with her fingers, her head on my shoulder.
I tell her what I can about work, which isn’t much.
What I don’t tell her, is that my enthusiasm to go to Brussels has all but vanished. Problem is, this is what I’m good at. And I’m too unsure of how I feel about my future to even bring this up with Grace.
I’m sitting there with too many thoughts on my mind, and Grace’s light weight on my body, when I feel her jerk slightly as she falls asleep against me. Setting my plate on the floor, I lift her in my arms.
“I can walk,” she says, popping her eyes open.
“I know you can. Been dying to carry you to bed, though. Okay?”
She perks up in my arms, her hair tickling my face. “Okay.”
“I’m gonna put the food away and get my stuff from the bike,” I say while I set her on the bed.
“I made you some space,” she says cryptically as she nests deep under the covers, her big fat yawn calling me to sleep.
I tidy the kitchen and get my stuff. Then I turn the lights off, close and lock all the doors, throw my bag on the bedroom floor, and crash in bed, scooping Grace against me.