26. Mac
She has no idea.
Shelby has no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this. That to be here, my face buried in her pussy, my senses filled with her, is almost too much to handle.
My cock strains so painfully against my jeans that the slightest brush of my crotch against the bed sends a jolt of almost over-the-top pleasure through me.
But it’s nothing compared to what Shelby’s pussy is doing to me. Each stroke of my tongue makes my cock surge. Each squeeze of her body around my fingers now dipping inside her, each gasp hitting my ears, is so fucking hot I’m going to lose it.
I have to make myself slow down when I sense her getting close to the edge again. She tugs at my hair, driving my face into her.
My dick is so hard I groan as I accidentally grind it into the bed once more.
But when Shelby wraps her legs around my head, I’m fucking done for.
“Shelby,” I rasp, lifting my head up. I don’t stop fucking her with my fingers. Even though it’s foolish of me because I’m already at the edge myself, I say, “I need to see you come.”
She nods.
“Look at me,” I say greedily. Despite my words, I do my best to dial in the last vestiges of my restraint.
Shelby’s eyes meet mine, and I drop my tongue, desperate to see her come now. I flick her clit with a speed I’ve been saving just for this moment.
Her eyes widen, her brows slant, and sharp cries come out of her cherry red lips as she comes.
And the moment she does, so do I.
I barely manage to keep going because I’m coming so hard, spilling myself into my jeans.
Fuck. Me.
Somehow, I don’t stop with my tongue and fingers. I need her to keep coming. Even if it blinds me. Even if it kills me.
Shelby bucks under me, a hand clamped over her mouth to trap her cries, and still, I keep my tongue moving. “Mac!” she exclaims. “Jesus!”
Finally she settles, and I give her clit one last bit of soft suction with my lips before rolling onto my back, breathing hard. I slide an arm under her thigh next to me, not wanting to break our connection.
“Mac,” she says. “Are you…do you want to stop?”
The reality of what just happened hits me then.
I swallow, then tip my head back to look up at her. She’s up on her elbows, and I have a gorgeous upside-down view of those spectacular tits; mostly the underside. I want to see those over me. I want to see her gripping the headboard while she rides my face. But I might have blown my chance, because I’ve lost it like a goddamned teenager.
I tip my head back down. “I, uh…” This is so fucking embarrassing. I scrub a hand over my face. “Yes. I mean no. But I need to have a quick shower.”
A beat passes. “Oh.”
I sit up, setting my feet on the floor while I run my hands through my hair. I debate just staying, making her come again. That would be my fucking pleasure. But my junk slips uncomfortably in its mess when I move. Nope. “Sorry, I, uh…”
“Are you okay?” There’s a pause, then she says, “Oh. Did you not enjoy that?”
I twist around, grabbing for her hand. “Shelby. No. It’s not that.”
“It’s okay,” she says soothingly.
Oh God, she thinks I couldn’t get it up.
“It’s not that either,” I say. Without thinking about it, I stand up so she can see the dark stain of wetness between my legs.
Shelby claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh…”
Fuck. I should have just quietly excused myself. She must think I’m a teenager. Or maybe a virgin. One who somehow knows he loves pussy…
“I’ll…I’m going to go grab that shower,” I say. “I’ll…thank you.”
Shelby’s clutching her sheet over herself, but I’m so embarrassed I can hardly even look her way.
Thank you? I grab my shirt and slip out of the room before I can fuck this up further.
The house is dark as I cut across the deck and slip inside. I head for the main floor shower, which is on the opposite side of the house from Nate’s room, even though, hopefully, he’s asleep by now.
My briefs and jeans are a sticky mess as I undress—I didn’t just come, I fucking came.
I think of Shelby as I climb into the shower. First about how embarrassing that was, but soon about how good it was before I lost control.
Jesus, she tasted good. Like a fucking peach. I reach down to soap off my dick, surprised to find it semi-hard again. If only she knew how far from unable to get it up around her I am.
Because her breathtaking curvy body is still etched in my brain, I stroke myself again, guilt and embarrassment temporarily suspended as I picture what I still want to do to her. I need to leave the shower, to go back and apologize, but suddenly I find my cock is rock hard again, and I’m stroking myself over and over. At first I’m angry at myself. Then I just see her. “Fuck, Shelby. Fuck.”
It’s only then that I hear the creak outside. Panic ripping through me, I jerk back the shower curtain.
Shelby’s there, frozen, her fingers on her lips.
She’s put on pajamas—shorts and a tank top. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders, dusting across her beautiful tits, unrestrained by a bra.
But even through my embarrassment, my cock pulses in my stilled fist.
Her eyes drop to my clothes on the floor, where my mess is obvious, in case she didn’t get it before.
Water pounds on my back. I should turn it off.
But she opens her mouth.
“I thought—” Her words are barely audible over the roar of the shower. She swallows, her throat bobbing. “I thought maybe you were a good actor,” she says, loud enough for me to hear her clearly. “That you weren’t really enjoying yourself. But you said my name just now.”
Heat floods my cheeks. But it’s not embarrassment now. It’s anger that someone, sometime, made her feel that she was undesirable. “Shelby,” I say. “First of all, you should know I’m a shit actor. I can barely pretend to like a meal, let alone fake the kind of reaction I have around you.” I angle myself so she’s protected from the spray of water beating against my back, then I reach out and take her hand, pressing it against my wet chest. “Whoever gave you that kernel of doubt, whenever it was, whoever fed it and watered it and helped it grow, I want you to look at me whenever you feel that way and know it’s patently untrue.” I shift her hand so it’s over the center of my chest, so she can feel the beat of my heart. “Feel that?” I know it’s going fast. I can feel it. “It does that whenever I even think of you.”
Her beautiful eyes are on mine as I slide her hand down. I watch her carefully, taking in the way her irises flare as I wrap her hand around my cock, fully engorged once more.
“And this?” I slide her hand up in mine so she can feel my full, throbbing head, the slickness already gathering at its tip. “This is what happens when I think about every curve on your body. When I kiss you. When you so much as brush your hand against mine. Hell, when you breathe in my direction, I get hard. That’s how desirable you are, Shelby. You drive me crazy. All the fucking time.”
Shelby’s eyelashes flutter. “Show me,” she says, gently sliding her hand away from mine.
“You want me to?—”
She nods.
I swallow. Then I push the shower curtain wide so she can see.
I draw my hand up in one long stroke. I close my eyes for a moment, consumed with the raw pleasure of knowing she’s watching me.
“I’ve never lost control like that before,” I say. It’s true. Not even as a teenager. I hesitate, suddenly worried about coming on too strong. Bit too late for that. My dick is literally in my hand.
I stroke it again.
“It’s you, Shelby.” I meet her eyes. “I just…lose myself around you.”
Does she know I’m not just talking physically? This woman, she makes me fall apart in every way.
“You said my name,” she says, her voice sounding more confident now.
“Yes.” Stroke.
“You were thinking of me.”
“Of course.”
“I want you to keep saying it.”
I’m confused for a moment, until she lifts her arms up, and, using a hair tie on her wrist, secures her hair in a ponytail on the top of her head.
Oh fuck. My cock jumps both from seeing that sexy fucking ponytail and understanding why she’s made it.
Shelby steps into the shower without removing her clothes. Stray droplets hit her white tank top, revealing the shadow of her nipples. I lean down and kiss her while I pinch both of them gently between my thumbs and forefingers.
She gasps against my lips.
She breaks the kiss, then drops to her knees, her hands on my hips.
“This is a beautiful cock, Mac,” she says. “I want you to say my name while I’m choking on it.”
I can’t even register those words before she wraps her lips around me, inhaling me hungrily into her soft, slick mouth.
I saw her change earlier, slipping into her confidence like she forgot she was wearing it. Seeing it again—hearing it—is such a fucking turn-on. Almost as good as the feel of her mouth on me.
She slides off me, slapping my cock across her flattened tongue.
“Tastes even better,” she says, flicking her tongue over the tip.
“Fuck, Shelby.” I grip her head, trying hard not to slide her back onto me, wanting her to go at her own speed.
But when she removes one of my hands and places it on her hair, I give up. I wrap her hair around my hand like I did at the beach, then I do what I promised. I pull her off my cock with her ponytail and then use my hair-sheathed fist against her head to guide her back onto me. I go deep enough that I feel myself hit the back of her throat.
“Fuck, Shelby. You take me so well.”
She makes a murmuring sound that I swear sounds like pride, but I meet her eyes just to check in. She pops off and says, “More, Mac.”
I groan, speeding up. Thank Christ I already came, or I wouldn’t last a second like this. “Yes, Shelby. Take it all.”
She does, too. She opens her throat, and I slide so deep my balls hit her chin.
I feel myself getting close, so even though she’s tugging at my ass, I pull her off me. “No,” I say. “I want to fuck you, Shelby. Please.”
Shelby wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and stands up. She rises up on her tiptoes and says, “Only if you keep holding my hair like that.”
I reach out of the shower and into a drawer where there’s a packet of condoms stuffed in my travel bag. I rip one off and get it on in under a second. When I turn back, Shelby’s leaning against the wall of the shower, her hands splayed. I tug her wet shorts aside, notching myself at her entrance. “We’re going slow next time,” I tell her.
She nods. “Next time. Right now I need you to fuck me hard and fast.”
“Yes, baby,” I say, biting down on her ear. I lift up her shirt so I can get a hold of those tits and enter her in one quick thrust.
Fuck.
I want to stay like that, to feel her heat wrapped around me. To savor another moment I was sure would only stay in my fantasies. But she’s wriggling on me, her beautiful round ass jiggling as she rocks her hips against me. Fuck, I’ve always loved a girl with some meat on her bones. But I’d love Shelby no matter what she looked like. Her looking like this—feeling like this—it’s a cherry on top.
I give her ass a smack again and groan when she cries out “yes!”
I grasp her ponytail with my free hand and tug her head back. “You’re taking this cock so beautifully,” I say. “Such a good girl.”
I switch hands so I’m holding her ponytail with my left and grasp her hip with my right, kneading the softness I think was the reason I came earlier. I slam my cock into her, pausing only to slap her ass lightly, to watch its beautiful width vibrate under me.
“Again,” she cries.
I tug her hair, smacking her ass again, a little harder this time. She moans, and my cock aches inside her. I keep going like this, slowing down only to pull off the showerhead, adjust the settings, and aim it at her clit.
It’s only a moment like this, me thrusting fast and hard so our skin slaps together, before I feel her tightening around me and let go of her ponytail to put my hand on her mouth to stifle the scream as she comes.
I come too, stiffening so hard that, for a moment, I can’t breathe.
The next time is softer. Gentler. I take my time exploring every part of her body I’ve wanted to touch.
Later, as I lie on my back with Shelby’s head tucked into my shoulder, her fingers splayed on my chest, I look up into the rafters of this little shed.
“You okay, Alasdair?” Shelby asks. Her favorite refrain. Then I realize what she’s called me.
I chuckle. “I haven’t heard that since elementary school. Since my mom, actually. She used to refuse to call me Mac.”
Shit. I don’t talk about my mom. That just slipped off my tongue. Something about being with Shelby has cracked everything hard off me. I’m fucking exposed.
I stretch, as if that’s enough to change the subject. “I’ve never been better, Shelby.” That’s not the half of it. My brain hasn’t caught up to any of what’s happened tonight, but I kiss her forehead like I’m completely in control.
Shelby brushes my temple with her fingertips like she knows what I’m thinking. Even now, after she’s been touching me all night, an almost violent warmth spreads through me at the soft touch. I swallow hard, stroking her hair where it falls across my neck.
“Why do you keep looking up there?” she asks.
I drop my attention from the beams of wood crossing the open space above to meet her eyes. I didn’t realize I’d been staring. “I guess I like the idea of this room holding happy memories now.” At her continued gaze, the open book I’ve turned into tells her how I avoided coming out here for so long because of what this room represented.
“Annie?”
“My dad too. He helped me fix up this place when I bought it. He helped me build this for her. It was the last project we worked on together. He was always so sure she would come back.”
“Tell me about your family,” she says.
I hesitate. Can’t I just lie here inhaling her scent? Feeling her heart beat against my ribs, her breath against my chest?
But that’s not fair. And she really wants to know.
So I start with the easiest ones—Nate and Dad. I talk about how Dad was my hero growing up. How I loved visiting him at work. Then I talk about Nate and how scared I was when we first met. How hard it was to get him to say even a few words to me at first. But she knows all that. She’s the reason we’ve gotten to where we are now.
It’s my sister and mom I find the hardest to talk about. The ones she’s really asking about.
Fuck. “Sometimes even just thinking about them hurts,” I whisper finally.
Shelby’s fingers curl in the hair at my chest. “I know how that feels,” she says after a moment.
The fist that clamps over my heart when I think of my family loosens just a little. She really does know what it’s like. More than anyone.
“I’ll tell you about them if you tell me about your people.”
Her breath hitches. Then she says, “Okay.”
So that’s what we do. We talk, both of us, about the people we lost, both figuratively and literally. I tell her how Annie was so much younger than me she was almost more like a kid than a sister. She tells me about Jessica and how close they were. Then, with some prodding, she tells me about her mom.
“I remember her laughing, before Jessica died,” Shelby says, rolling onto her back and looking up at the rafters with me, her fingers entwined in mine. “It wasn’t like she was an effervescent person, but she did laugh. But I can’t remember the last time she genuinely laughed since.”
I don’t miss the way her voice hitches when she talks about her mom. “Do you miss her?”
Shelby sighs. “It’s stupid. She hurt me so much. After my sister passed, Mom went through the house, taking down all the pictures of her. A week after they pulled out all the plugs in the hospital, Mom had turned Jessica’s room into a guest room. She painted the walls beige over Jessica’s pink. Put in carpet over the hardwood where we once secretly scratched our names. I hated her for that.” She sighs. “But she’s my mom. She’s hypercritical and judgmental and controlling, but…I think so much of it is just how hurt she is. They sent me to grief counseling after Jessica, because that’s what the social worker said we should do. The counselor told me to write letters to Jessica, tell her all the things I would have told her if she were here.” She swallows. “Mom never got any help, as far as I know. But yeah, I miss her.”
I can’t help but think about my own mother. What would I write to her? I’m sorry I failed you? I’m sorry I didn’t find you soon enough?
My stomach hurts thinking about it. But I say it anyway. “My mom…she was the most beautiful person. She was playful. Happy. She knew how to be silly. She was a lot like you, actually.”
I’m surprised I never thought about that before.
“She had Annie later, when I was eight. Annie was their “happiest accident,” Mom used to say. They were close. When Mom died, it was like Annie lost her best friend and her mom.”
I shift, wishing I hadn’t volunteered so much. I was much happier hearing about Shelby’s family.
“Do you ever talk to Annie?” Shelby asks, sensing me drifting away.
I run my hand over my forehead. The sky’s losing its darkness outside. I know I need to leave soon.
“Hardly ever.” It hurts to say it. “She used to write me when big things happened in her life. Graduating from college. Moving to New York. Getting a job at a publishing company. But I haven’t heard from her in over a year. I write her, but she doesn’t respond.”
“I’m sorry. Family is so hard.”
I can hear the sleepiness in her voice.
We talk for a few minutes more. Then, at some point, Shelby’s breathing grows rhythmic, and she falls asleep in my arms. I hold her as long as I can, thinking about her, my family, the people I lost and the ones who came into my life like miracles. Finally, I disentangle myself from her and pull on the sweats I pulled on last night—and quickly lost again.
For a moment, I just stare at her. Her beautiful sleeping face, the little mole on her throat. The curve of her arm resting on the blanket, the way her hair fans out around her like she’s some kind of renaissance painting.
I don’t want to forget this image. I want to lock it in my brain so I can pull it out when I have a bad thought. What could ever be wrong so long as she exists?
Outside, the chittering of birds finally breaks through. And even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I kiss her on the forehead and slip away into the predawn light.