Chapter 27
Mickey
S he’s still seated in the arena, clutching my laptop to her side as though it’s a lifeline she refuses to let go of.
“Gail!” I call out her name, striding toward her.
“Mickey?” She says my name like she’s questioning whether it’s me or not. Cute.
Reaching her, I take one of her white locks and twirl it around my finger. “In the flesh, sweetheart,” I grin, though it feels forced. “Can we talk?”
She looks around. “Here?” Her voice is guarded, and why shouldn’t she be? Everything about me is off, from my tone to the way I’m moving.
“Maybe not here,” I grimace. “Somewhere private,” I suggest, gesturing toward the exit with a tilt of my head.
Sighing, she follows me out of here. When we reach my car, I open the door for her, which earns me a glare that’s anything but grateful. “Fine,” she exhales. “We can go to my place.”
I get into the car and drive us to her apartment. The air between us is charged, and I can feel her eyes on me now and then, but I keep my gaze on the road. It’s only when she speaks up, her voice soft yet laced with accusation, that I turn to look at her.
“I saw the pictures, you know. From the night you left your laptop.” I can hear the hurt beneath her words. “You left me this,” she taps her fingers against the laptop resting in her lap, “and then you left to spend time with puck bunnies. In what world does that make sense, Mickey?”
Yeah, I can see how that doesn’t make any sense at all. “Nothing happened, Gail.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel.
“Really?” Skepticism clouds her tone, and I don’t blame her.
“Really.” I park outside her apartment and kill the engine, turning to face her fully. “I needed a distraction. But alcohol was the only thing I indulged in.”
“Sure didn’t look like it from the tabloids.” Despite her attempt at nonchalance, the tremble in her voice betrays her.
“Fuck the tabloids.” The words are harsh, but my touch is gentle as I reach over, thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Do you really think I’d show you my past just to go wet my dick with someone else?”
Sighing, she opens the door and gets out of the car. As we walk up to her apartment, I keep waiting for her to answer me, but she never does. Not when she turns expectantly to me, waiting to get let into her home, or when I hand her the keys so she can do the deed.
If emptiness has a scent, it’s what Gail’s home smells of. Even though it hasn’t even been that long, it smells empty, vacated—stale. And cold. Since we made sure to cut the heating and electricity before leaving, it’s no surprise that it’s freezing.
“Motherfucker!” Gail curses.
I follow her into the bedroom, feeling like I’m stepping onto fresh ice—slick, unpredictable, and cold enough to make your bones ache. Gail’s shivering as she rips her coat away from her body and kicks her boots off. Then she climbs under the sheets, her teeth chattering as she tries to make herself comfortable.
“S-so freaking c-cold.”
“Come here,” I murmur, shrugging off my own jacket before sliding in beside her. The bed creaks under my weight, an echo of protest in the silence. She scoots close, seeking warmth, and I wrap my arms around her. For a moment, we’re just two people trying not to freeze.
She moves around so she’s facing me. “Talk to me, Mickey.” Her voice is soft, but insistent, her breath warm against my neck.
My heart hammers against my ribcage like a puck slamming into the boards. Where the hell do I even begin? “I assume you read about Simone and me,” I say.
She nods against my shoulder. “Yes.”
“I was so happy,” I admit, ripping off the Band-Aid. “Being with Simone was everything I ever wanted. So when she told me she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I even proposed to her.”
Gail doesn’t respond, but I feel her hand slide under my shirt, caressing my stomach. I shouldn’t be surprised by how soothing her touch is, like she’s thawing the icy wall I’ve erected around, well, not just my heart, but my entire being since Simone first gave me my dream, then ripped it away along with any trust and love I had in me.
Love… I think that’s what I’m feeling at this moment; an overwhelming, crushing amount of love for Gail. I’ve felt it before, especially at Cupid’s Court, there was just something about her, and the way she soothed the raging storm inside me. But since finding out that Abby and Gail were the same person, and that there’s a baby, I shut it down tight, refusing to see what was right in front of me.
“I never suspected the kid wasn’t mine. All I saw was the chance to get what I always wanted; a family of my own.”
“Oh, God,” she whispers. “You never saw it coming?”
Forcing out a dark laugh, I shake my head. “Nope. Afterwards, everyone was busy telling me that they knew something was off with Simone, but no one ever had enough care to share.”
The memories of all those fucktards I don’t speak to anymore are enough to awaken my anger. Back then, I didn’t get it, not fully. The importance of surrounding yourself with people who aren’t all about image, fame, and money.
“Soren and Sawyer were the only ones who never gave me empty platitudes,” I say, chuckling as I remember my friends beating the shit out of Jared for me.
“What about your parents?” Gail asks, sliding her hand further up my body until it’s resting on top of my heart.
Sighing, I explain, “We don’t really talk anymore. I mean, we talk once every other month, and I go there every other year for Christmas. But that’s it. They feel like it was me who drove Simone into Jared’s arms since I apparently ‘didn’t keep her happy’.” I make air quotes with my free hand around the last part.
Gail gasps. “They said that?”
“Sure did,” I confirm.
The longer we lie on her bed, the easier it becomes to talk about my past. Gail doesn’t judge me, I can hear it in her tone. If anything, she’s judging the fuck out of Simone and Jared, but not me.
“So that’s why you’ve been such a shit about the pregnancy?” she finally asks.
“Guess so,” I say, then I grimace as she pinches my skin. “Hey!”
Laughing, she pinches my nipple. “Don’t be a dick, Mickey. You’ve taken all this out on me, and I wasn’t even there. I’ve done nothing to deserve your anger or mistrust.”
Clearing my throat, I consider her words. There’s some truth to them, I can admit that. Though she also has to own the fact that her timing was fucking off. Telling us about the pregnancy the way she did… yeah. Finding out about her identity and pregnancy within the span of minutes was a bit fucking much.
“Okay,” I agree. “I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
She sits up, pulling off her sweater before straddling me. Taking my hands, she guides them to her hips. “I’m sorry I unknowingly messed with the birth control.”
“You should be,” I grumble, only half meaning it.
“And I’m sorry I was such an amazing lay I kept you coming back for more,” she grins, rocking her hips slightly.
That… she was—is.
“Are you really sorry about that?” I ask, grinning up at her.
Tilting her head to the side, she looks down at me. Her expression is completely unguarded. “No, Mickey. I’m sorry you’re both assholes who acted the way you did. But I’m not sorry for any time we spent together at Cupid’s Court.”
“Smartass,” I chuckle, squeezing said ass.
Then I move my hands under her lacy top, tracing idle patterns on her back. When she doesn’t stop me, I slide one hand to her front, splaying it across her flat stomach, imagining what it’ll be like when it swells with… Fet.
“Is that okay?” I murmur, my voice a low rumble in the quiet of her apartment.
“Y-Yeah,” Gail breathes out, a slight tremor in her voice. Her hips shift restlessly under the sheets, and I sense the change in her, the desire blooming like a fierce blizzard within her. It’s intoxicating, the power of her need pulling me deeper into the storm.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I press on, though every cell in my body rebels against the thought.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her blue eyes darkening like the sky before a heavy snowfall.
Encouraged, my hand boldly moves up to cup her breast over the fabric of her bra. She arches into my touch, a silent plea for more.
“Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” The question slips out, raw and rough, like sandpaper. My arousal is undeniable, a solid presence between her spread legs.
“Fuck, Mickey,” she groans, her back curving, pushing her body even closer to mine. The heat of her radiates through the thin barrier of clothing, branding me with unspoken promises.
“Show me,” I demand, a possessive growl tinting my words as I slip my hand lower, over the curve of her hip, inching toward the evidence of her arousal. Every nerve ending screams for contact, for the ultimate surrender.
I frown as Gail slaps my hand away. “I have a better idea.” When she gets off me and scoots back to lean against the headboard, I get the urge to tell her that whatever she has in mind is a terrible idea. “You’ve seen me plenty of times, but I’ve never seen you naked.”
Hasn’t she? Hmm, I can understand if she didn’t notice much when we tore her mask off at Cupid’s Court. And when I’ve come to sleep next to her, I’ve purposefully kept her facing away from me.
“You want a show?” I smirk.
“Please,” she gasps, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Gail
I can’t quite believe it. Mickey is not only stripping, he’s giving me a show that’s worthy of Las Vegas. Okay, that’s not strictly true. He’s not undulating his hips, or rubbing his shirt between his legs. Though with the intense eye contact he keeps, it feels just as hot.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he rasps, and I nod.
The sight is mesmerizing—the way Mickey’s fingers deftly work the buttons on his shirt, revealing a canvas of taut skin beneath. My fingers itch to trace the lines and curves that define them. It’s a feast for the senses, and I am ravenous.
As he unbuckles his belt, undoes the button and zipper on his jeans and shimmies them down his legs, I lose the fight to keep my eyes on his. I shamelessly take in every inch of skin he’s exposing, licking my lips as he hooks his thumbs into his boxer briefs, pushing them down his thick, muscular legs.
Moans punctuate the air, low and primal, as the final piece of fabric slips to the floor. It takes me a moment to realize I’m the one moaning in response to finally seeing his body. My first instinct is to feel embarrassed, but I refuse to.
“God, Gail! You’re killing me here,” Mickey groans, his voice threaded with lust.
“Good,” I retort, my tone playful yet edged with need. It’s a game of push and pull, and for the first time, I’m not the toy or an unseeing spectator—I’m part of the play.
I let my gaze drop to his erection, and I part my lips at the sight of his hard cock. “So it is you,” I whisper when I notice the silver in the tip. Wearing the mask sharpened my other senses, even my hearing despite the noise distorting earbuds. I’ve suspected Mickey was the pierced one since I found out it was them, but I love that I now know for certain.
Pushing myself up, I crawl to the edge, beckoning him closer with my finger. When he’s within reach, I experimentally wrap my hand around his cock, stroking it twice while I smile slyly up at him.
“Sweetheart!” The gravel in his voice makes it come out like a warning, one I have no intention of heeding.
Getting off the bed, I point at it. “Lie down,” I demand. I’m surprised when he actually does as I say, and especially as he does it without protesting.
While he makes himself comfortable, I quickly strip down to my underwear. Although I’m already slick between my folds, I keep it on. I’m not ready to let Mickey take me yet. First, I want my fill, and then I’ll only give in if he truly seems sorry. I appreciate him opening up and telling me about his past, but that doesn’t mean he gets into my pants. At least not without working for it.
I get back on the bed, straddling Mickey again. When he reaches for me, I slap his hands away. “Not yet,” I purr as I lower myself so my pussy is resting right on top of his shaft. The flimsy barrier of my thong barely matters, I can feel his heat and the wetness from his pre-cum.
Taking my time, I roam my hands over his body, tracing the inked “7” tattoo on his left pec. “Didn’t know you had this,” I muse, continuing to run my hands down the plains and valleys of muscle sculpted from years on the ice.
He sucks in a breath as I lean down, my black and white hair cascading around us like a curtain. Using my tongue, I lick a wet trail from his collarbone almost all the way to his navel, pushing myself up so I can reach. With each lap of my tongue, he shivers under me.
“Fuck, Gail,” he growls when my mouth closes around a nipple, teasing it with the edge of my teeth.
The air in my cold apartment is forgotten as our bodies generate a relentless heat. His hands find their way to my hips, and this time I let him guide my movements as I grind on his hard cock, his Prince Albert piercing hitting my clit just right with every movement of my hips.
“Mickey,” I moan. I move faster, harder, chasing my orgasm. “I… fuck. I’m so close.”
Letting go of my hips, he moves his hands to my bra, unclasping it so my breasts fall free. Cupping them, he rolls and pinches my sensitive nipples. “Keep going, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Use my hard cock to get yourself off.”
I do just that, grinding my cunt along his shaft. The crotch of my thong is completely drenched in our mixed juices, and the thought amps my desire for more.
“I want to fuck you,” I moan as I come to a stop.
Mickey smirks up at me, his silver eyes boring into my blue ones. “Then fuck yourself. Impale that pretty pussy on my cock, Gail. Let me feel you tighten around me as you try to milk the cum from my nuts.”
Jesus, that mouth of his. I whimper in response, and rest on my knees so I can slide my thong to the side and line up the head of his hardness with my opening. Unable to take it any longer, I quickly take him inside me, lowering myself until he’s all the way in.
“Fuck,” I pant, closing my eyes as my pussy stretches to make room for him. “So. Big.”
“Nuh-uhh,” Mickey growls. Before I can ask what he’s protesting, he cups my chin, squeezing. “Open your eyes and watch me. Watch the face I make when I’m inside you.”
I do as he says, opening my eyes, and fuck. I can’t believe I almost lost out on seeing his face. His expression is tight, yet serene. His eyes are intense, yet soft. He’s a canvas of contrasts, and me… I’m so fucking gone on my desire for him.
Shifting my legs under me, I bounce up and down on his cock, mewling every time I feel him hitting that sweet spot deep inside me. The sounds I make are animalistic, and so is my need for him.
“Mickey!”
“Look at your cunt swallowing it completely,” he growls as he begins to play with my breasts again. “Are you ready to come, Gail? Because I’m about to nut. Your cunt is fucking squeezing me so good.”
Throwing my head back, I arch my back, thrusting my aching breasts further into his hands. Then I pick up my pace, riding him so hard my bed slides against the floor.
“Mickey… Oh… My…Fuck. Mickey!” I scream his name as my orgasm hits, washing over me with all the grace of a tsunami. I can’t stop moving, won’t stop moving.
“Fuck! Gail!” I barely hear his words as he suddenly lets go of my tits, grabs my hips, and quickly spins us around so I’m on my back. His cock is still inside me, my orgasm still pulsing through my body as he thrusts into me with wild abandon. “Fucking. Love. This. Pussy. Your Pussy. My pussy.”
He growls my name as he reaches his own climax, and his hot jizz coats my insides. Something about it either prolongs my orgasm or sets off a new one. I’m not sure which, just as I’m not sure which way is up. All I know is Mickey, the things he does to me, and how this is exactly what I’ve wanted for so long—what I dreamed about when he and Soren first asked me for a threesome.
We both collapse onto the mattress, and I quickly curl up next to Mickey, my head resting on top of his heart. The thumps are rapid, making me smile as I press a gentle kiss to his skin.
“That was hot,” I say breathily.
Mickey rasps his agreement. One of his hands trails down my body, all the way to my thigh which he hoists over his hip like he’s trying to get me closer. “My only complaint is that I didn’t get to kiss you.”
“Then kiss me now,” I say, looking up at him.
Mickey cups my face as he bends, capturing my lips with his. The kiss is like the ones we shared at Cupid’s Court; unhurried, languid, and oh so perfect. I can feel it all the way down to my toes. My entire body is humming as he strokes my tongue with his.
Pulling back, I cup his cheek, my blue gaze locking onto his silver orbs. “Tell me again that nothing happened between you and the puck bunnies,” I demand, needing to make sure he isn’t playing me.
He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Nothing happened, sweetheart. I wasn’t there for them, and I made sure they knew.”
“What were you there for? And why didn’t you come home?” My heart contracts painfully at the reminder that he sought out strangers instead of me and Soren. I can’t tell if I’m really hurt, or if it’s my damn hormones making me crazy. All I know is that I need him to explain it to me.
Sensing what I need, Mickey opens up about why he left, and why he’s stayed away. “I just needed to say goodbye,” he murmurs. “Not to you or Soren, but to the past.” The look he gives me is so pitiful, so unsure it’s impossible not to believe him.
“I get it,” I say after taking some time to process it all. “The reason I didn’t tell anyone about Fet the moment I found out was because I needed time to… say goodbye. I wanted one more night with you and Soren.” Admitting it feels good, and when Mickey holds me tighter, peppering every inch of skin he can reach in small, close-mouthed kisses, I know he gets it.
We stay in my bed until I’m so tired I’m half asleep.
“Do you want to spend the night here?” Mickey asks.
Sitting up, I cup his cheek as I shake my head. “No. I don’t know what this is,” I say, gesturing between us. “But we’re missing one.”
For a moment I’m worried Mickey’s gonna get pissed off, though, not worried enough to take it back. Surprising me, he sits up, and gently presses his lips to mine. “So we are. Let’s go home, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart… gah! The way my body turns into a puddle whenever he says that is pathetic. But each time transports me back to Cupid’s Court, to the way he’d whisper sweet nothings in my ear while Soren mixed pain and pleasure… yep, that settles it.
When it comes to the two of them, it’s both or nothing—at least while we’re forced to be together. I’m too greedy to settle for less.