Chapter 31
thirty-one
Georgia
I’m stepping out of my car after a round of Sunday morning errands when I spot the giant white box waiting for me next to my front door. Curiosity getting the better of me, I leave my shopping bags in the car and take the box inside.
Sitting on top of a fluffy pile of shredded crinkle paper is a purple envelope and a typed note within:
Dear Georgia,
Happy birthday, sweet girl! We can only hope our son will have the good sense to make your day as magical as possible, but since there’s no such thing as too much celebrating, please enjoy a little gift from us.
We hope this assortment of treats will be a taste of home for your East Coast roots. No doubt homesickness has hit you a time or two in the last few months; sugar and salt are underrated methods of soothing the soul!
Enjoy your special day.
Love,
Amy and John
PS: Feel free to not share your goodies with Cash. It’ll be our little secret. ;)
I can’t remember the last time I received a birthday card in the mail, let alone a gift.
Pushing aside the nest of crinkle paper, I find a postcard with Greetings from New York in big block letters, and below it, a mountain of snacks: everything-bagel chips, black-and-white cookies, a chocolate babka, Zabar’s coffee beans, Levain cookies, soft pretzels, specialty mustard, and candy in every color of the rainbow.
I smile and unwrap a chocolate shaped like the Statue of Liberty. Apparently my love for snack foods didn’t go unnoticed during my visit to the Hartnell home, and a warm memory of Amy’s arms wrapping me in a hug spills over me. Just when I feel like writing off the entire Hartnell family, too.
Cash is due back from Indiana around ten tonight, and he insists on sleeping over. I’m still toying with the idea of telling him we should skip the sleepover and get together tomorrow to celebrate my birthday.
But then darkness falls, and as I cook dinner alone, my loneliness is undeniable.
Mr. Jangles—my charge for the weekend—is a comforting companion, but she doesn’t do much to fill the silence.
I’ve kept myself occupied all weekend, even grabbing lunch with a girl from my Data Analytics class, but I miss Cash so much.
My feelings are raw and tangled, but I know I want to wake up next to him on my birthday.
“Goddamn, birthday girl,” Cash says when he finds me bent over the kitchen sink scrubbing stuck-on rice from a pot hours later. “Did you get even sexier while I was away?” He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses the words into my skin.
“It’s not my birthday yet. And no.”
“A queen like you deserves an entire week of celebration leading up to the big day.”
If you wanted to celebrate me for a week, a good start would have been not forcing me to stay home alone while you went to the Combine.
Every muscle in my tense body stiffens even more, and I fight to tamp down that angry little voice in my head.
I want to put it behind us—he apologized, he explained his reasons, we should be able to move on.
I don’t want to be petty. Yet here I am, loving the way his lips feel at the back of my neck and wanting to push him away anyhow.
“Did you get lonely without me?”
“A little,” I admit.
“I missed you like mad, you know that? I think I spent a total of 4.42 seconds not thinking about you all week, and that was when I did the forty.”
I shrug him off and place the pot on the drying rack. “Wish I could have seen that.”
His big hands snake around my waist and under my shirt to cup my breasts. My nipples respond enthusiastically—okay, my entire body responds enthusiastically—but I ignore the way he weakens me and pull away.
“You’re mad at me.”
Attempting to untangle my thoughts, I dry my hands on a scratchy kitchen towel. But the five seconds it buys me offers no clarity. “I’m tired. It’s been a long weekend.”
“And you’re mad at me.”
I take a deep breath, knowing I can’t pretend. “Maybe I am. I don’t know what to feel about what happened this weekend.”
“I’m sorry, Georgia. If I made the wrong call, I’m so sorry. I’m not good at this, I guess. I’m not used to being caught between my sister and a girl.”
“A girl?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. The girl. The girl I’m crazy in love with.”
I sigh, not wanting his words to soften me the way they do. “Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay? We’re both tired.”
“I’m not tired. I’ve got all the energy in the world for you.
” He pins me against the cabinets, his palms spread on the counter behind me and the weight of his hips pressing against me in all the right ways.
“Besides, I still need to give you your first birthday present.” His tongue wets his lips, and then my eyelids are fluttering closed as he tugs the neckline of my shirt aside and drags his tongue along my collarbone.
“What if I don’t want it?”
“Shouldn’t you find out what it is first?”
I want to tell him no as a fuck-you, but the promise of a gift only Cash can deliver is too tempting. “What is it?”
“Well, really, it’s a gift for both of us.”
“No thanks.” Even though his tongue feels incredible, I push him away and reach for another towel to dry the dishes.
Undeterred, he follows me, hands light on my hips. “I want you to sit on my face.”
Well now. I freeze, my imagination already conjuring images and sensations that weaken me.
Cash cocks his head, his lips a few inches from my ear. “Right?” He reads everything I’m not saying.
Fuck me for my dramatic pause, for wanting it so bad, for wearing a fitted white top that happily betrays my now-hard nipples.
“I want you to mouth-fuck me.”
I can’t help the whoosh of breath that escapes me. “I don’t even know what that—”
“Yes you do.”
And now I’m picturing it, and it’s hot as sin. “I thought this was about what I want.”
He tsks his tongue. “You’re right. My bad.” He withdraws. “It’s your birthday, so if you’d rather not…”
I watch him over my shoulder. He’s wearing a fitted gray shirt that accentuates all those upper-body muscles that he uses so skillfully, and when he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, the fabric tightens around the curves of his biceps.
And just in case that wasn’t enough, he decides it’s the right time to lick an imaginary crumb off his lip.
“Right here?” I ask.
He shifts his eyes to the strip of kitchen floor between the counter and the island. “Right here.”
Nervous excitement bubbles inside me. Cash struts up behind me, slides his hands down the curve of my waist, and tugs the drawstring of my pajama pants, which immediately puddle around my feet. When he moves for my cotton underwear, I elbow him away. “You get on the floor.”
Like an excited kid, he bites his bottom lip to contain his grin and yanks his shirt over his head.
How messy does this get? I wonder, watching him get down on the floor and lie on his back.
Uncertain but going for it anyway, I stand over him, straddling his torso, and tug my underwear down. His eyes flare.
“This fucking angle,” he mutters.
I lower myself onto my knees, my pussy already wet when it meets the flushed skin on his hard chest. “Do I…?”
“It’s called face-sitting for a reason, angel.” He gives my ass a slap to move me along. “Sit on my face.”
His hunger for me to be in command emboldens me, and I walk my knees up until they’re on either side of his ears. When his tongue melts against my center, I sigh and arch my back, but my legs already feel weak. No way I can hold myself up once I get going. How do I come without killing him?
“Fuck my tongue, beautiful.”
Experimentally, I shift against him, letting his tongue stroke my clit and play between the delicate folds of skin. Pleasure builds as I find a gentle rhythm. I want to close my eyes and lose myself, but I can’t find the right position.
Cash frees his head from between my legs. “You think I can’t handle all of you? Sit.” He curls his arms around my thighs. “Take everything you want from me.”
I have no choice but to trust him. I lower a few inches, and his tongue sinks into me. Oh fuck. I rock my hips, instantly craving more. How did I not know this was a thing? If I hadn’t met Cash, would I have gone my entire life without experiencing this hot, precise, liquid pleasure? Fuck.
My hands grip the counter on either side of me for purchase, and I find my rhythm, riding his tongue with zero regard for him.
He meets every cry that spills from my lips with a throaty grunt.
I don’t have to reach behind me to know his cock is rock hard.
His fingers dig into my hip bones possessively, urging me on, daring me to use him harder.
Fire surges inside me, coiling tight, building straight into my chest, and then erupting from my throat in sharp, broken cries as I fuck his face.
His wet mouth devours me without hesitation, without asking for anything in return.
Like my pussy is a gift he’s waited his whole life to taste—one I’m happy to bestow upon him.
I grind against him with everything I have.
My orgasm knocks into me like a wave, seizing every muscle in my body.
And when I come back to myself, I’m bent over his face, my hands flat on the kitchen floor as my hips seek the last pulsating bits of pleasure from his tongue.
A little worried about his condition and a little too blissed out to care, I crawl off him and sit back against the cabinets, breathing hard.
“Fuck-ing hell,” Cash huffs out. Eyes closed, smile taking over his entire face, he curls his arms behind his head and laughs. “New jerk-off fantasy unlocked.”
“You’re telling me.”
He turns to look at me, as pleased with himself as I’ve ever seen him. “Four months until my birthday. I hope you know what I want.”
Upstairs, I take a long bath, savoring my well-earned exhaustion, before brushing my teeth and slipping back into pajamas.
But when I emerge from the bathroom, I’m stopped by the sight of my bed.
The entire top half is covered with stuffed animals: dogs, cats, horses, bunnies, and a few brightly colored birds studding the sea of brown, black, and white fur.
I turn to Cash, who’s lingering in the doorway. “What’s this?”
“Figured it was a bad time for you to get that houseful of pets you always wanted, but maybe this is the next best thing.” Stunned by the sweet wholesomeness and the fact he remembered that small moment, I stare at the animals.
It must be written all over my face because he adds, “I remember every word you’ve ever said to me, Georgia. ”
I sit on the bed and gaze at my new pets, picking them up one by one.
Hidden behind a white pony with a purple mane, I find a light-blue teddy bear with a football stitched on its chest where its heart should be.
Unlike the rest of the animals, which are brand new with tags still dangling from their ears, this one has clearly lived through some shit.
“That’s Blue,” Cash informs me. “I was a real innovator at age three when it came to names, can you tell?”
“This is your bear?”
“Was. Now he’s yours.”
Warmth spills over my heart as I stroke the bear’s black velvety nose. “That’s incredibly sweet. You didn’t have to give him to me.”
“I wanted to. Figured just in case I don’t get to spend the rest of my life sharing your bed, at least he can.”
Admiration washes through me at the fearless way he says what’s in his heart. “And what if I want you to be the one sharing my bed forever?”
“In that case—”
I laugh as he snatches Blue from my hands and chucks him over his shoulder.
“Beat it, loser. This here’s my girl.”