Chapter 15 Sab
Sab
He’s waiting for me on the doorstep. Or maybe he’s putting empties out for the milkman.
Either way, I don’t have to knock. I slip past Galen’s car and he’s right there, framed by the soft glow from his house, wearing nothing but charcoal grey pyjama trousers and a grin that reels me in like a fish on a fucking hook.
The door closes behind me.
He presses me against it and kisses me, pushing my coat from my shoulders, his tongue in my mouth as if it belongs there.
It’s starting to feel like it does, and I’m not sure how that fits with Tam’s theory about fleeting encounters, but I’m not here to think, and Galen seems to know it.
I leave my shoes by his front door and let him take me by the hand and coax me to the stairs—a departure from the couch we’ve rolled around on the handful of times I’ve been here.
“Still don’t have a bed,” he warns. “But the heating works better upstairs, and I’m guessing you haven’t had much time to warm up since I saw you.”
Barely an hour has passed since he left me in the town’s main car park, but I’m far from cold, and I follow him upstairs with fire in my blood.
There’s no carpet on the landing, no door to the second bedroom, and the one he leads me to hangs at the kind of angle that lets me know whoever fitted it walked away before they kicked a hole in it.
Beyond that, Galen shows me into a room that’s decorated, but mostly unfurnished. True to his word, there’s a mattress on the floor, but it’s made up with clean sheets and thick pillows, and it smells good in here. Fresh laundry and Galen.
“Told you I was messier than you.”
I blink as he speaks, realising he’s moved further into the room to scoop a pile of clothes from the carpet and dump it on top of another pile. “My place is only tidy because I have nothing else to do when Esme’s in bed. I make plenty of mess at my brother’s house.”
“Are you happier there?”
The question seems left field, but I go with it. “I’m more myself there than I am on my own.”
“People person?”
“Wouldn’t go that far.”
Galen straightens another pile of his belongings. Then he comes back to me with the beginnings of a smirk on his face. “Maybe you’re just better in groups, eh?”
I’m better with him, but he steals my breath before I can speak, claiming my mouth with a kiss that feels different to any we’ve shared before—and we’ve shared a lot.
Maybe because we’re in a bedroom. His bedroom.
I don’t know. But my heart seems to pump louder as Galen starts to peel my clothes off, and my dick…
fuck. I’m so hard my whole body aches with want, and only Galen’s touch calms the pain, even as he strips me naked and leaves me standing as he retrieves a nondescript wash-bag from the corner of the room.
He unzips it, tossing it on the mattress.
I glance at it, see lube, condoms, and…poppers, maybe? Whatever. My pulse kicks up a gear and I snatch a shaky inhale.
“Hey.” Galen puts his hands on my face. “Nothing in that bag means anything. It’s there so I don’t have to go looking for it if we need it. It’s fine if we don’t, okay? There’s no expectation here. We can chill and watch a fecking film.”
“On what?”
There’s no TV in his room.
Galen shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”
I believe him, on all counts. I reach for him. Wind up taking his hand, and somehow, it works. We come together and I slide my hands to his waistband, easing down the loose trousers he’s wearing, taking a deep lungful of his scent as his shower-damp hair grazes my cheek.
The pyjama trousers get snagged on his cock.
Galen hums a laugh and frees himself.
Kicks them away.
Then he’s naked. I’m naked. And his bed is right fucking there.
“Breathe,” he murmurs.
Against my lips.
Against my jaw.
Into the hollow of my throat as he kisses me there so fucking lightly my dick jumps a mile.
“I’m breathing,” I fib through my clenched teeth.
“Then lie down with me.”
On his bed. Naked.
I do it, and it’s not that different to his couch downstairs. Same heat and wild pull between us. But up here, everything but him feels smaller. Like he’s filling more space than he did before, and that’s what tugs me a step further down a path I’ve been so nonsensically afraid of.
Galen eases me onto my back, his weight pressing along mine, cementing the warmth and arousal that builds and builds with every rough kiss until he whispers magic and wondrous words against my lips. “What do you want?”
My lungs seize as his mouth hovers over mine, burning me alive as I consider a question I’m not used to being asked. Not like this—with a man’s hand at my throat, as if he’ll choke an answer out of me if I don’t find one for myself.
He won’t.
I know he won’t.
I know he’ll wait, because he always waits, so patient and kind it wrecks me.
But he doesn’t need to be patient tonight.
I snatch a breath and the truth spills out of me before I can swallow it down, shifting something fundamental inside me as I say words I’ve never uttered aloud before. “I want to blow you.”
The words land heady and loaded, and the devil inside has Charmaine laughing in my face all over again. But Galen cuts her off with a startled laugh, that grin curving slow and filthy on his face, hooded eyes darkening with heat.
“Stop the lights, you’re going to kill me, aren’t ya?”
“Not on purpose.”
He laughs again and the room spins as he rolls us, pulling me over him, making space for me between his legs as I brace a hand either side of his head and stare down at him like I’ve never seen him before.
“I might be really bad at it.”
Galen tilts his head, green eyes sparkling with kind and dirty amusement. “Or you might be really fecking good. I’m the one dicing with death here. Now get down there so we can find out.”
The order is playful, but I like it. And I like the pressure of his hand on my head even more as I descend the bed and bring myself face-to-face with his thick and flushed cock.
I swallow hard.
Hesitating.
But it isn’t real. My brain is screaming that I need a fucking moment, but the rest of me doesn’t get the memo. I reach for Galen, my body moving before my gnarly thoughts catch up. I wrap my hand around the base of him and his sharp inhale carries a reverence that almost undoes me.
My lips part, tongue snaking out to wet them. Then I lean in and take him in my mouth, and it’s like I’ve plugged my soul into a live socket.
I’m falling. I’m flying. He tastes so fucking good. And his stuttered groan?
I’ll hear it until the day I die.
“Fuck, Sab.” Galen shifts his hand to cradle the back of my head, his fingers sifting through my hair. “That death by blowjob theory’s coming in hard—fuck.”
I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, flicking my tongue where I know he’s most reactive, heat building in my own veins at every gravelled word of praise he sends my way.
Guided by instinct. Fuelled by the ragged sounds Galen makes as I work him with my mouth, grazing my teeth along the sensitive underside of his dick.
I’m dizzy, but somehow I find a rhythm that has fresh heat pooling in my stomach, pulsing in time with the push and slide of Galen’s cock between my lips. Down my throat. I can’t breathe and it’s perfect, and if I thought my dick was hard before, I had no fucking clue about life.
“Look at you.” Galen’s thick thighs tremble, his pelvis too, as if he’s fighting the urge to drive into my mouth. “You’re so fucking hot.”
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to hold back. That I’ve imagined how he feels crammed down my throat way too many times to feel anything but pure ecstasy that it’s finally happening.
But my mouth is too full, and I love it as much as I love the reverent look on his face as I drag my eyes open and find his wild gaze.
“You’re going to make me come,” he whispers. “It’s okay if you don’t want it in your mouth.”
I want it in my mouth. So fucking much.
Je le veux plus que tout.
But I can’t find the will to pull off him and say it.
So I show him instead. Working him harder—deeper—as that dark ache in my belly infiltrates every cell of my body. As Galen responds with rougher curses, and an untamed flex of his hips that has me choking on him.
I clamp my hands on his hips, pinning him in place as he tries to pull back a little. Tries to save me from dick-led asphyxiation. But I like the rush—I love it. And as Galen relents, and something inside him seems to capitulate, I can’t give it up.
He lets go, and I realise how much he’s been holding back.
His spine arches, grip on the back of my head tightening to the sweetest pressure.
A moan tears out of him, sharp and untethered, and I feel it to my fucking marrow as I take him as deep as I can.
As I hold him there, using muscles I didn’t know I had, and Galen comes in a hot rush down my throat.
Fuck. I drown in his salt-slick taste. Revelling in every shudder and jerk of his strong body. It’s so fucking good I forget I need to breathe until white spots cloud my vision, obscuring my view of Galen.
I pull off, inch by inch, mourning the loss of him before he’s even gone. I wipe my mouth and find my focus. Find Galen as he drops back against the pillow, chest working hard as he labours for a breath of his own.
It takes him a minute. Longer than feels comfortable, but just as I reach for him, he pulls himself together, snapping a hand out to seize my wrist, using the momentum to sit up and fix me with a stare so feral and hungry I’d be scared if I wasn’t so irrevocably into it.
Into him—Galen—as his mouth curves, sinful and dangerous, and his melodic voice deepens to a low rumble. “Get on your back.”