Chapter 16
16
Kayla
“OMG WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Allison is spun around in the passenger seat of Tom’s Prius, shouting at me in the backseat in a fair imitation of a tweaked-out bottlenose dolphin. It’s a wonder Tom doesn’t swerve into oncoming traffic.
“Um, well, I told him that I had made a mistake, and that I had been attracted to him in high school?—”
“AND THEN HE KISSED YOU? ARE WE TAKING YOU TO HIS HOUSE?!? ARE YOU GOING TO?—”
“No! No, not tonight. Maybe never. I don’t know. But he is coming over tomorrow night to fix my garbage disposal.” I look down at my hands, trying to hide my smile.
“HE’S GOING TO DO WHAT ?!? IS THAT WHAT THE KIDS ARE CALLING IT THESE DAYS?!?!”
“Alli, you have got to stop shouting at me, I may be going deaf.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Allison makes a visible effort to control herself. “But I’m just SO HAPPY for you, he always seemed like such a good guy, and…” she trails off, looking at me more seriously.
“What?” I ask finally.
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve just never seen you like that before. So excited about a guy, I mean. You’re a pretty sexy bitch, you know?”
I laugh. “Are you coming on to me?” I ask, mock-flirtatiously.
“Maybe we should have a threesome,” she playfully retorts.
Tom whips his head towards her, eyebrows raised nearly up to his hairline.
“Not with you ,” she tells him with a laugh. “There’s no way I’m sharing you . Keep your eyes on the road!” Then she turns back to me.
“Seriously, K. Is it so bad that I want to see my best friend relax and have a little fun?”
“I—” I start to offer reasons why I can’t possibly “relax and have fun” with Gabe. I don’t relax. I rarely have fun. Most of the time I feel like a shark: if I stop moving, I’ll die. But kissing him had felt so, so good. And I want to do it again as soon as possible.
“No,” I say finally. “No, I guess it’s okay.”
The next night, at 10:00 on the dot, the doorbell rings. I’m in my room, fussing uncharacteristically with my hair, so Mom opens the door. Gabe is polite, but I can hear his surprise—was he expecting me to open the door in just an apron and a strand of pearls?—and when I come into the kitchen, he gives me a look that reads, so I’m really supposed to fix the garbage disposal.
Part of me had hoped that not seeing him for 24 hours would give me a chance to cool down, but the opposite has happened. I’ve been thinking about him nonstop. Allison is right. Wild, public make-out sessions have never been my style. I can’t even blame alcohol—I’d had maybe half a Miller Light, the other half of which I splashed all over my shoes. But when he kissed me, I’d just lost control.
Still, I live with my mom, and my choices were either to sneak him into the house after she was asleep, or invite him over on a ruse and hope she goes to bed early. I don’t like sneaking around, so I chose the latter. Plus, the garbage disposal really is broken.
“So I can hear the motor buzz, but the blades aren’t turning. Even though I am morbidly afraid that it’s going to slice my fingers off, I put my hand down there to see if something’s stuck. But the blades are clear.”
“As long as you don’t put your hand down there when the motor is on, you’re safe.”
“Ah, but what if it’s possessed by a demon that just wants to turn my hand into ground chuck?”
“Gross, Johnson. Okay, I’m going to turn off the breaker and then rotate the blades manually. You have an Allen wrench, right?”
“No…?”
He rolls his eyes, then digs into his pocket for a Swiss Army knife. “This might be a little big, but it’ll get the job done.”
“Is that right?” I say before I can stop myself. He gives me a dirty look before disappearing under the kitchen sink.
“Can’t imagine why that fiancée of yours didn’t want to keep you around,” Mom comments, coming into the kitchen. “Her loss, I guess,” she continues with a chuckle.
“Fiancée?” I query innocently, poking my head under the cabinet.
“ Ex -fiancée.”
“How ex?” I demand. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that, but suddenly I need a guarantee that I’m not about to walk into someone else’s chaos. I certainly have enough of my own.
“ Very ex. Listen, can we not talk about this right now?” Something clanks ominously. “Johnson, did you put something down here that you shouldn’t have, like potato peels or...”
“Lemon rinds?”
He sighs in exasperation. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Okay, get a towel. I’ve got to disconnect the disposal from the p-trap.”
This involves Gabe splashing water onto the floor (and himself), releasing a terrible stench into the kitchen, and sticking his hand into the line to clear the clog. He’s not afraid of garbage disposal demons. He’s also filthy. And—all right, Meg, I admit it—hot.
“Do you want to take a shower?” I say with a giggle. “We’ve got this great new bathroom fan.”
“Are you just using me for free home repairs and legal advice? I have feelings, you know?—”
“Shh! I know.” I quickly check over my shoulder to make sure that Mom has gone to her room, then slide down next to him on the kitchen floor. He watches me carefully, one hand holding slimy lemon rinds, the other his Swiss Army knife. I straddle him where he sits. Then I kiss him gently, slowly, letting myself taste him, savoring the feeling of his lips against mine. He leans up to meet me and slides his tongue into my mouth. I run my fingers through the soft hair at the back of his neck as he tugs at my lower lip with his teeth, moving his mouth down to my throat. I pull away from him just as I feel him get hard.
“Take a shower,” I whisper. “Then meet me in my bedroom.”
Gabe takes the fastest shower known to man. I barely have time to wring my hands and pace around my room in terror and anticipation before he comes up behind me and wraps his strong arms around me. I can feel that he’s not wearing a shirt. His chest on my back feels warm and firm, and the little drops of water still clinging to his skin soak into my t-shirt.
“Thank you for leaving your door open,” he murmurs into my hair. “I was afraid I might accidentally surprise your mom.”
“She’d be thrilled,” I laugh. He’s kissing my neck, sucking gently on my shoulder just above my collarbone. He runs his hands up my rib cage and cups my breasts as I push back into him.
“This okay?” he asks, his voice husky.
“ Yes ,” I sigh.
“When I saw you arguing with my father at the bank,” he says, circling my nipples with a teasing finger through my bra, “this is what I wanted to do. I wanted to wrap my arms around you, pleasure you, make you mine.”
I moan in response, reaching an arm around to the back of his head as he slides a hand between my legs, stroking me through my jeans, as the other hand gently, maddeningly, massages my breast. He’s driving me crazy, and I can feel that he’s just as turned on as I am. I want nothing more than to whip around and jump him like I did at Mickey’s, but I also want this to last.
After a few minutes he steps away from me and leads me over to the bed. He sits down on the edge and stands me between his two strong legs. I see his torso for the first time, and can’t stop myself from running my hands over his muscular shoulders, his biceps, the soft curls of hair on his well-defined pecs.
“You must lift a lot of weights,” I breathe as he slips my t-shirt over my head.
“Mm-hm,” he hums into my skin. “My workout routine mostly involves curls and boosting my protein intake.” I laugh at the reference, but my breath catches as he begins kissing a line from my belly button to my bra. I have no mental energy left to be embarrassed by my Walmart lingerie. I can’t think about anything right now but Gabe’s mouth, Gabe’s hands, skillfully unhooking my bra and dropping it to the floor.
“I’ve thought about this so many times,” I confess as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth. I snake my hands through his silky hair. He’s licking, sucking, tugging slightly, and I feel like I could come just from this. Heat rises up between my legs as I press his head harder to me. The pleasure builds until it’s almost unbearable. No man has ever made me feel like this. Previous sexual experiences have been more… perfunctory. But Gabe is perfectly attuned to me. He responds to every whimper, every shudder, by holding me still more firmly, and just as I’m about to beg him to touch me between my legs, he unbuttons my jeans, pushes my panties to one side, and slips a finger inside me.
I come almost instantly, biting back a scream, but he doesn’t release me. Instead he moves one finger, two, in and out, deeper and deeper, massaging my clit with his thumb. I grind shamelessly against his hand, gripping his shoulders with my fingernails, riding wave after wave until finally my world explodes. Sparks go shooting across the backs of my eyelids and I collapse, shuddering, against him. I grab his wrist to still his hand and at the same time press it harder into me as the last aftershocks reverberate through me. When I risk looking at him again, he’s smiling at me, a sweet, tender expression that I’ve never seen on his face before. I stroke his stubble, trace his eyebrows, try to memorize every feature.
“Good?” he asks softly, brushing the hair from my forehead.
“ Incredible ,” I admit. “How did you… I’ve never…” I haven’t fully recovered the capacity for speech, but he doesn’t care. He just gently strokes my hips and smiles up at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I kiss him, lingering on his lips for a moment, then drop to my knees between his legs.
“Kayla,” he groans. It may be the first time I’ve heard him say my first name. I’ve never liked my name, to be honest—I always felt like my mom was just following some late-nineties trend. But on his lips it sounds like a supplication.
I undo his belt and free his erection from his jeans and boxers. He’s bigger than I expected. Bigger than I’ve encountered before. This information is both terrifying and thrilling, but all I want now is to please him, to give him a taste of the pleasure he just gave me. I gently kiss the head of his cock, then run my tongue along the shaft before taking him into my mouth. I come up off my heels to try to take him deeper, but I still can’t manage much. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s letting out low masculine groans that send a shiver down my spine, resting a hand lightly on the back of my head like he wants to press down but knows better. Finally he utters a guttural stop and I pull back.
“Do you want something different?” I ask, sitting back and wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
“No. Yes. I mean,” he says, looking at me with a smile, “if you don’t want this to be over in about ten seconds, we’d better change things up.”
“Oh,” I smile back, “well, what would you like to do?”
He grins more widely, then assumes a serious expression. “Lie down on the bed, Johnson,” he commands.
That tone. He used it with me in the bank. And in the bar. I hate to admit it, independent woman that I am, but I respond to it viscerally. When he talks to me like that, I want nothing more than for him to drag me by the ponytail back to his lair and have his way with me.
He seems to intuit this. He leans down to his jeans, takes a condom out of his wallet, slips it on, then climbs on top of me, pinning my wrists to the bed above my head. Instead of giving me what I want right away, he goes back to slow, lingering kisses, pressing me into the bed. We’re both completely naked now, and my skin is on fire everywhere his body meets mine. I’m sweating, even though it’s January in Missouri and my house is so poorly insulated that I have plastic wrap on the windows.
“Please,” I whisper, sliding my legs up on either side of his waist.
“Please what?” he mutters, licking the hollow at the base of my throat.
I arch against him, needing him so bad it’s almost painful. We’re so close that I can feel his chest rise and fall in short, shallow breaths against mine. His erection is rubbing against my leg, my clit. I angle my hips, willing him with every Jedi mind trick I can think of to enter me. “Please fuck me,” I beg.
He comes up on his elbows and finally starts to guide himself inside me. It’s amazing at first, and then—not. He’s too big. I suddenly realize that I haven’t had sex in almost three years, and—I can’t. I breathe in sharply, trying not to wince. He can tell immediately that something’s wrong and pulls out.
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes full of concern. “I thought you wanted me to?—”
“I did. I do ,” I pant, because I really, really do. I wrap my arms around him, keeping him close. “It’s just that… you’re so big, and I haven’t… in a while. You’re like the Swiss Army knife.”
He can’t help but crack a smile. “Johnson, I only have one tool down there. Are you sure you’ve done this before?” I laugh. He kisses me again, then reaches between my legs, slowly circling my clit with his thumb. I moan and spread my legs wider for him.
“I’ve waited eight years,” he says, pressing slightly harder now. “I can wait a little more.” I roll my hips against his hand, feeling myself start to lose control again. My world starts to dissolve around the edges. I clench the sheets in my fist, struggling to catch hold of something, anything, to keep me from becoming completely unmoored.
“Yes,” I whimper. “Oh fuck, Gabe, yes .” He keeps stroking me as he enters me again, just the head at first, then more and more as I begin to climax.
“God, Kayla, you are so fucking sexy,” he growls. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you. How much I’ve wanted this .”
I do know, because I’ve wanted it too, but I can only whimper yes again, gripping his shoulders, slick with sweat. I pull him towards me, willing him to go deeper. I was wrong before. He isn’t too big. He’s a perfect fit, and with him fully inside me, I feel rooted, whole. But he’s holding back, trying to be careful of me, and that’s not what I want anymore.
“You feel great,” I tell him, clenching my channel around him. “I want you to do what you want.”
“Are you sure?” he says, panting.
“ Yes ,” I reply, digging my nails into his biceps, which are, I might add, much nicer than Adam’s.
“You drive me crazy,” he rasps, then loses control. He begins thrusting deeper, harder, until the bed is pounding against the wall and I’m biting his shoulder to keep from screaming. He’s hitting a spot inside me no man ever has, a spot I barely knew was there, and it’s like the entire universe contracts to the place where our bodies are joined. I never want this to end. As pleasure floods through me like light, I wish for one brief, insane moment that he wasn’t wearing a condom, that I wasn’t on birth control, that something new and perfect could be born from this moment.
“Come inside me,” I urge, suddenly desperate.
“Say my name again,” he groans into my ear, pushing me even harder into the bed.
“Fuck me, Gabe, fuck me—” And then I can’t talk anymore. His entire body tenses against me. He reaches underneath me and cups my ass, pressing me into him like he’s trying to dissolve the boundary between our bodies. I wrap my legs around him as we both utter one final, despairing moan, and then collapse.