Chapter 12
I n the span of a breath, any thoughts of fantasies are driven from my mind.
Because reality is so, so, so much better.
The door to Cayden's room closes behind us, and he slams me up against it. His mouth meets mine with all the fire of our kiss back in the car, only its embers have been burning for hours now. It flares, hot and bright, blinding me, engulfing me in flames of need.
Desperate to quench myself, I cling to Cayden's neck. He gets his hands on my ass and hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips. I groan as his sizable erection grinds into my pussy. Even through our clothes, he's hard and hot and pressing just precisely where I need him.
"God," he breathes, sounding just as wrecked as I am. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."
I laugh, light and free. "It can't be as long as me."
"Want to try me?" His smile is sunshine against my lips. He breaks the kiss, but it's only to slide his open mouth to my jaw and then my throat.
I throw my head back as he licks and sucks at tender skin. "Middle school," I manage to pant.
"Jesus." He thunks his head against the door behind us.
"You were my first crush."
"And you were mine."
Brightness floods my heart. "I always hoped. Never thought—couldn't believe."
He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. "You were the prettiest girl in that school. You were smart and talented. Everybody had a crush on you."
"Bullshit." I was awkward and weird, never the popular kid. The boys used to torture me, and sure, my grandma always liked to tell me that they pulled my pigtails because they liked me, but that was sexist bullshit then, and it's sexist bullshit now.
Even Jax, Cayden's best friend, thought I was a dork.
Cayden shakes his head, meeting my lips once more. "You have no idea, do you?"
"You remember middle school very, very differently from how I do."
"Don't make me dig up my yearbook."
I let out a squeal that's part laughter and part indignation. "Don't you dare."
"I will. Don't test me."
"No," I groan, but the protest is cut off with another clever, delicious twist of his hips.
Our mouths meet again, slower and wetter. He licks past my teeth and I open to him. I run one hand through the soft strands of his ashy blond hair, then scratch my nails over the scruff of his beard.
When he pulls back, I cup his face in my hands, rubbing my fingers over his cheekbones and staring into clear, blue eyes.
"We wasted so much time."
He shakes his head, twisting to press a kiss to my palm. "Wasn't a waste. But I'm real damn glad we're here now."
I search his gaze, wanting to protest, but can I? Really? "I guess…"
One corner of his mouth tilts up. "Besides. Couldn't have done this back when we were twelve."
He grinds against me, dirty and slow. Heat and pleasure bloom along my spine, pulling a moan from me.
"Good point."
Maybe the years we spent apart were worth it. Because there is seriously nothing else I would rather be doing right now than this.
We kiss again, wilder, deeper. Our bodies are flush, our lips and hips connected.
He moves against me, and I'm pinned between his body and the door.
I slide my hands over the roughness of his beard to his broad shoulders and firm chest. All that gorgeous muscle feels like heaven, and a part of me could stay here, just like, this forever.
The other part needs more.
Impatient, I start to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. They give beneath my fingers, revealing smooth skin and another freaking shirt—and I get that it's cold, but how many layers do I have to get through to put my hands on that chiseled body?
He rumbles a low laugh into my mouth, then grabs me by the ass again. "Hold on tight, baby."
Happily.
But even with that warning, I'm thrown when he peels my body off the door. I scramble to throw my arms around his neck, clinging as he walks us across the room.
I only get vague impressions of the space flying by me as we move.
This is definitely his childhood bedroom, but it's also undergone some serious renovations.
The handful of movie and country rock star posters that graced his walls back in middle school are gone, replaced by what looks like local artisan work.
A couple of paintings and a driftwood piece.
There are photos I can't quite make out, though I'm pretty sure a few contain hard-bodied men in desert fatigues.
A flag is folded neatly and displayed in a case, and it hits me all at once.
Those years between the children we were and the adults we are now really weren't wasted. We spent them. Him defending his country and me learning and teaching and trying to make art.
We clicked immediately upon reuniting. But I can't wait to go deeper. To find out who he really is now, what he's seen and where he's been and what he's done to become the rough-hewn man currently kissing me breathless.
Clearly, we're going to start that process of discovery by learning about each other's bodies, though. And I can't say I regret that at all .
We arrive at the edge of a big bed that definitely wasn't part of this room back when he was thirteen.
The crimson bedspread welcomes me as he sets me down.
I sink into the mattress's embrace. He kneels up between my legs, and together we scoot backward until we both at least sort of fit on the bed.
I can't be bothered to worry about what parts of us might be dangling off the edge when he devours my mouth again.
He weight presses into me deliciously, and it only gets better when he skims a hand beneath my shirt. That contact of flesh on flesh sends waves of goosebumps rippling over me, heat pooling in my center. I drag him closer, grinding up into him, and sparks blur my vision.
"God, you feel good," he groans.
"Yeah—Cayden—"
"Uh-huh." He somehow seems to understand my unspoken plea, because his hands hook in the fabric of my top.
He pushes it higher, lifting away from me just long enough for us to get the offending fabric off and over my head.
He reaches behind his head to grab his collar, somehow managing to get both layers off as one.
When he lays back over me this time, it's even better, because there's skin. I run my hands over all of it, and holy shit.
I knew his time in the army and his work at the mill had been good to him, but I'd had no idea. Ropes of thick muscle bulge beneath my fingertips. He's hot and hard, with a dusting of sandy hair across his chest, and I want it all.
We're both in too much of a rush to deal with my bra. He pulls the cups down and scoops his hands inside. His rough palms on that soft flesh makes me even wetter, my clit twitching and nipples screaming at how good it feels. He pinches each tender nub in turn, and I groan into his mouth.
He nips at my bottom lip. "I love the noises you make."
"I love the way you touch me."
"Mmm, I love that, too."
With that, he pulls away from the kiss to lick and suck his way down my throat.
He lingers again on the mark that Adam left there, but I don't have time to think about it.
Reaching behind me, he unclasps my bra. I help him to tear it away, and then his mouth is on my tits.
The warm, wet suction makes need flare deep inside me.
His chest is between my legs now, and I miss the hard bulge of his cock against my center.
I can't grind against him like this. I'm suddenly desperate for relief.
Rubbing myself against him both fruitlessly and shamelessly, I thread my hands into his hair. I don't exactly push him down, but I maybe encourage him to head in that direction.
He lets out a little growl, tugging at my nipple with his teeth. Pleasure and pain zing through me at once. "Patience, baby."
I whine in frustration, but submit to his onslaught.
His mouth on my skin feels so good, but I want more.
After this morning's romp with Adam, I should have a little stamina, but it feels like Cayden has awakened a whole new level of sexual energy in me.
Maybe it's the decades of wondering what might have been.
Maybe it's just him. Maybe there's something in the water, or my dry spell, or the insane tension of being the only woman in a house filled with so many desirable men, but I can't handle it.
Finally, he relents, releasing my breasts to travel lower. He kisses beside my navel, then fits hands to my hips. I buck into that touch, reaching for the fly of my jeans. Before I can, though, he leans down.
My breath shudders and stops when he presses his lips to my pussy through the denim. It's the faintest flicker of pressure, but the heat of him seeps through.
"You want that, baby? Want me to eat you out?"
I throw my head back, dizzy, delirious. "Fuck, yes."
He makes quick work of my pants, tugging my underwear away as well. They're soaked, and they must carry the hot scent of sex from the way Adam filled me with his come this morning, but Cayden doesn't seem to notice. He casts them aside, and then I'm naked, spread for him.
Shoving my legs apart, he groans. "Pretty little pussy."
He slicks his thumb between my lower lips before grazing my clit. Fireworks shoot off inside me. I clench down inside, getting wetter and more ready for him.
But I'm still not prepared for the way he dives in. I cry out at the first swipe of his warm, soft tongue on my softest parts. He dips inside, then works his way up to my clit, and Jesus.
Cupping the backs of my thighs in his big hands, he opens me up wider.
I let him, until I'm holding my own knees up and out of the way.
I'm on display this way, my pussy throbbing to be filled, but he concentrates solely on my clit until I'm thrashing, tossing my head back and forth against the bed, close, only I can't quite get there.
"Inside," I chant, "please, please, need—"
"Fingers or cock?"
"Both—either—I don't—"
How can I possibly decide? I want everything, to be taken by this man in every way.
In the last, remaining, rational pieces of my mind, I know we'll have a chance to do this again.
Everything we've said today certainly implies that this isn't a one time thing, but I can't seem to convince my body of that fact.
Thank God, he makes the decision for me.
Pulling away from my pussy, he slides his slick lips up my abdomen. He makes a slight detour to kiss my breasts, but it doesn't last long. Before I know it, he's at my mouth again, pressing his tongue inside and working his belt free.
The leather finally gives. He pushes his jeans down, and I spare half a second to regret not having time to get him all the way naked, but the thought is there and gone in an instant, because then he's there.
The fat head of his cock shoves at my needy cunt.
He slips through the liquid there, getting himself slick with my juices.
"Can I? Need it—God, Haley—"
"Yes, yes, please—"
And I'm such a slut. But I feel powerful, sexually alive in a way I've never been before. I'm still holding myself open for him, and he's pushing in bare, the second man to take me today, and I scream.
Jesus, he fills me up so right. He's almost as long as Adam was and even wider. He strokes all along my G-spot as he slides inside, then grinds into my clit with his hips when he bottoms out. He shudders, eyes clenching tight.
"You feel so good," he groans.
I need my hand, so I drop my leg. He fits his shoulder to the inside of my knee, and yes, that's even better.
He's folding me in half with how deep he is inside.
I grab him by the back of the neck and haul him in, lunging forward as I do for a kiss.
His teeth scrape over my lip, and he grinds into me, rough and dirty, but our connection makes it something more somehow.
Adam and I shared an instant rapport this morning.
The fact that we didn't really know each other had its own appeal.
But Cayden's and my relationship goes back years, and it shows in the way we fuck.
He snaps his eyes open, and they stare into my soul as he rocks his hips.
I clench down around him, and we both moan.
Finally, neither of us can take it anymore.
He draws back and slides home once more, and electricity zips up my spine.
I feel taken, possessed. There's just so much of him.
The massive girth of his cock stretches me, and the breadth of his shoulders crowds me.
I can't see anything but him, can't feel anything but the way he's fucking me so deep and good and right.
I get lost in it, and maybe so does he. It's a chilly night, but sweat pools on my skin. The slick slide of our bodies makes the dirty things we're doing all the more carnal and raw. Orgasm hovers over me, ready to sweep me away at any moment, but I hold on.
His restraint is slipping, though. "Jesus, Hayley, I can't—I'm going to—"
"Yeah, do it, come in me, fill me up."
"Wanna feel you come first, God, your pussy feels so good, can you do it? Come for me? Squeeze me? Come around my cock—"
How could I not?
He shoves his hips flush to mine, and it's the perfect pressure against my clit. I tense my abs and jerk up, sealing my mouth to his. Digging my nails into his shoulder, I chase release until it's there, shining and crystal.
I don't know when I closed my eyes, but I snap them open, and he's right there. Our gazes lock, and our bodies are connected in the most intimate way two bodies can be.
"Cayden…"
I shatter spectacularly, going to pieces, but he's there, putting me back together with his cock and his hands and—dear God—with his love.
Because that's what we're doing here. Not just fucking but making love. The brilliance of the connection surges through me. My climax is blinding light, and then he's rearing back.
He pounds into me hard, all restraint gone as he takes me, stakes his claim, and then he's coming, too.
His cock pulses inside me, hot release filling me up. I milk him for all he's worth, wanting more, more, more.
Then he slams home. My orgasm crests, and I hold onto him as he collapses over me.
He crushes me to him, and it's perfect, just perfect.
It doesn't even matter that I can hear the voices of his housemates leaking through the walls.
If anything, knowing that they just heard us making love drives my ecstasy higher.
I fold my legs and arms around him, plastering our sweaty bodies together. I rest there with him like that.
And I feel hopeful for the first time in so long.