Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
WREN
J ust one bed.
There’s just one bed in our room and the couch isn’t big enough for me to sleep on, let alone Barrett.
Which means we’re going to share that one bed. And we’re going to do it naked and close, and when we’re finished being naked and close, neither one of us is going to run away.
The thought of what awaits us at the end of our beading lesson splits my focus, but I leave an hour later with a better understanding of Ojibwe jewelry making, a lovely pair of beaded butterfly wing earrings, and my man.
Mine.
He’s really mine. I can feel it in the air as we get into his truck and head back to the bed-and-breakfast. There’s no more resistance, no more fear, just the certainty that we’re on the right path and there’s no chance we’re turning back now.
“Do I get to call you my boyfriend?” I ask as we pull into the parking spot closest to our room.
Barrett glances my way. “Unless you’d rather call me something else. Stay there, I want to open your door.”
“Like what?” I tease once he’s circled around and opened the passenger’s side door. “My lover boy?”
“I’m no boy,” he says, scooping me out of the seat and into his arms.
“No, you’re not,” I agree as he kicks the door closed behind me. I push at his chest with a soft laugh, “You have to put me down.”
“I don’t,” he says, starting toward the building.
“You’re going to climb three flights of stairs carrying a woman who’s perfectly capable of walking? What if someone sees us?”
“I don’t care what people see, and I need the exercise,” he says, pushing through the door and starting up the first flight with impressive speed. “I’m hoping it will take the edge off.”
“What edge is that?” I ask, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he starts up the second flight, barely out of breath.
“The edge that I’m afraid is going to make me come in five minutes,” he whispers, sending a sizzle across my skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Since the second I left your house that night. I wish I’d stayed.”
“You did,” I whisper. “It’s do-over night, remember? And tonight, you’re going to stay.”
“All night,” he promises, setting me down just long enough to grab the key card from his pocket and press it to the door outside our room.
Then, I’m back in his arms, being carried over the threshold like a bride on her wedding night.
Barrett
I want to go slow, to savor her, to show her just how vividly I’ve imagined being with her again by driving her gradually, deliciously wild. I want to make her writhe and moan and beg for me the way she did that night in her hallway, but this time, I won’t rush the foreplay or the aftercare.
Aftercare is a concept from the kink community that I came across in a sexual health newsletter a couple months ago, but the more I read about it, the more I realized aftercare should be for everyone.
It’s a time to touch base with your lover, to make sure everything was good for them and to ensure they know how good it was for you. It’s a time to show them how much you appreciate their vulnerability, not just sexually, but emotionally.
And it’s something Wren sure as hell deserved the first time around.
As I lay her down on the bed and stand, tugging off my jacket, I silently promise myself that I won’t fuck this up.
“What are you thinking?” She slips her jacket off, tossing it onto the floor as she toes off her shoes. “You have a very intense look on your face.”
“I have very intense feelings about you in that dress,” I say, unbuttoning my shirt, needing to feel her skin against mine. “And I’d very much like to get you out of it. With my teeth.”
Heat flaring in her eyes, she whispers, “Yes, please.”
“Roll over,” I murmur, shucking my pants, shoes, and socks as she shifts over onto her stomach and pulls her hair to one side, revealing the long silver zipper I glimpsed earlier.
Climbing onto the bed, I straddle her petite form on all fours and bend, trapping the zipper with my teeth. I drag it down slowly, inch by inch, relishing the way she shivers beneath me as I reach the small of her back and drag my tongue across the newly bared skin.
“Barrett?” she murmurs, her hips shifting against the mattress.
“Yes, Wren?” I ask as I gather the bottom of her dress in my hands, slowly baring the bottom of her ass, my breath hissing out as I realize she’s wearing a thong. I lean down, nipping at the curve of her bottom, making her moan and shift again.
“I didn’t have sex with anyone while I was gone,” she says, her thighs parting slightly. “And I’m still on the pill so…”
“No condom, got it,” I say, my voice deeper, thicker as I kiss my way across to the other side of her bottom, relishing every dip and curve, but deliberately avoiding the already damp crotch of her panties.
But I can see the darker fabric there, smell the scent of her slick heat, and it makes me crazy, even before she says, “Just so you know, you’re the only one. The only one I’ve ever asked not to use one. I’ve always hated them, but…it just didn’t feel safe with anyone else.”
Only me.
The only one.
I want to be her only one for a hell of a lot longer than three months, but this isn’t the time for that conversation. It isn’t the time for conversation at all. Somehow, I know all I need to say is, “You are safe with me. You always will be. I promise.”
She sighs and softens beneath me. Then, I pull her thong to one side and glide one finger over her clit as I press another inside her and she starts making those sounds I love. The sounds that drive me crazy. The ones I’ve dreamt of so many times since she left only to wake up aching and alone and pretty sure I’d stay that way for the rest of my life.
But maybe not…
At least for now, for tonight, I’m not alone.
I’ve never felt less alone. It’s so easy with Wren, so seamless. As she rolls over and we kiss until we’re breathless and the rest of our clothes vanish beneath our eager hands, I realize I feel safe with her, too.
I don’t have to put on a show or worry that I’m not doing sex right or be anyone but myself. Leaning in to the vulnerable space we’ve both inhabited tonight, I whisper against her breast, “I used to worry I was missing cues here, too.”
“Boob cues?” she asks, raking her fingernails through my hair, sending a delicious shiver across my skin.
“No.” I smile and flick my tongue over her nipple. “In the bedroom. I had a girlfriend in college who would get so frustrated with me, but she never said what I was doing wrong.”
Wren pushes up on her elbows, meeting my gaze in the dim light. “I can’t imagine you were doing anything wrong. But if you ever do anything I don’t like, I’ll tell you. Will you tell me, too?” She continues with a hint of shyness, “I know I’m a stone-cold sex goddess, but I really don’t have that much experience. Especially not with men brave enough to stick their fingers down my throat and surprise me with oral in the bathroom at ten in the morning. I want to be sure I keep you entertained.”
I cup her breasts, pressing them together. “You keep me endlessly entertained.” I run my tongue back and forth across her tight nipples until she whimper-sighs and wraps her legs tight around my waist. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen or heard.”
Her eyes darkening, she whispers, “Prove it.”
Without missing a beat, I reach down, grabbing the backs of her knees. I guide her legs up on either side of my head, rumbling my approval for just how flexible she is deep in my throat as I fit my cock to her entrance and sink inside.
“Oh yes, that’s it,” she says, wincing as I keep pushing until I’m entirely contained in her, consumed in her. “That’s what I’ve been missing.”
“Pain?” I ask as I pull back and glide forward again, pretty sure being inside her is the best thing in the world.
“No, you’re just…so deep.” She reaches down, her fingers digging into the small of my back as I grind into her again. “But I love it.” She glances up at her own feet, now just inches from her head. “But I’m not sure about this position. I feel like a pretzel.”
“A sexy pretzel,” I murmur as I kiss her cheek and circle my hips, summoning another moan from low in her throat.
“I’d feel sexier on top, with you lying trapped beneath me like a wild horse who won’t be broken, but who really loves it when I try,” she says, making me do something I’ve never done during sex before.
I laugh. It’s short and sharp, but it’s a real laugh and it, strangely, makes me feel even closer to her.
Closer and more turned on.
“That sounds like a good time,” I say, guiding her legs down off my shoulders and wrapping an arm tight around her waist. I hold her close as I roll us both over, ensuring I’m still buried deep inside her as she braces her hands on my chest.
“Hold on, mister,” she whispers as she begins to move, torturing me with little swivels of her hips that draw out the climb for what feels like hours.
She keeps me on the edge, taunting me with occasional tastes of her nipples, her lips, until I’m dying to flip her back over again and take her hard and deep. To show her what she does to me, how she destroys my control in a way no other woman ever has.
But just as I’m about to make my move, she digs her nails into my chest and begins to rock faster. She leans in, bracing herself more heavily on my chest as she bounces her ass just like she did in the parking lot of Bubba Jump’s. Before I can tell her that she’s the sexiest woman on earth, I’m coming. I explode with a groan and a ragged cry of her name as she tosses her head back and stiffens.
Her mouth opens and her brow furrows and she makes my favorite Wren sound, the little keening cry she makes as she comes, and wiggles closer to my pulsing cock.
Afterward, she lies heavy on my chest, panting for a few moments before she giggles.
“What’s funny?” I ask, already smiling. Just because I love her laughter.
I love her . And I’m going to make sure she knows how much soon.
Very soon.
She lifts her head, grinning at me. “That’s the first time I ever tried that. Twerking during sex. It’s pretty fun.”
“Fun?” I exhale a shaky breath. “That was a rite of passage. I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same. You’ve ruined me for all non-twerking women.”
“Good.” She grins, her eyes flashing with mischief as she adds, “But I’m not quite ruined…yet. I think, however, if someone were to rally and do very bad things to me from behind, I might feel ruined enough to sleep well tonight.”
“Your wish is my command,” I say, already halfway to hard again.
By the time I have my sweetly wicked woman on her hands and knees in front of me, I’m there, ready to give her what she asked for and hopefully, much more.
Wren
H alf a dozen orgasms later, I fall asleep in Barrett’s arms.
When I wake up the next morning, there he is—crazy-haired and puffy from sleep and…perfect.
“Morning,” he croaks when he opens his eyes to find me watching him.
“Good morning,” I murmur. “How’d you sleep?”
He smiles and says with a stretch, “Terrible. I kept waking up in the night, hard and wanting to have my way with you again.”
“You should have woken me up,” I say, giving his bare chest a light slap.
“No, you were sleeping,” he says, resting a warm hand on my hip under the covers. “You were too peaceful to wake up. And beautiful.” His brows furrow as he squints. “How do you look this beautiful first thing in the morning?”
“You don’t have your contacts in or your glasses,” I remind him with a laugh. “You’re half blind.”
He shakes his head, his lips curving. “Nope. I can see just fine. Want me to go grab coffee from downstairs while you take the first shower?”
“That’s a very sweet offer.” I pretend to consider this option for the morning even as I reach beneath the covers, skimming my fingers over the ridge in his boxer briefs. “Or we could have a quickie, share a shower, and grab coffee on the way to the first session.”
“Genius,” he says, making me giggle as he rolls on top of me. “You would have destroyed everyone in medical school.”
“I really would have,” I agree, sighing happily as I wrap my legs around his waist and tilt my head back to make room for his lips at my neck. “If only I’d had the courage to apply.”
He pulls back abruptly. “What?”
“Nothing.” I try to pull him back to me, but he resists. I smile. “It’s nothing.”
“You never told me you thought about med school. Not once in six years of tea in the afternoon.”
I shrug a bare shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I was a little embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed.” He grunts. “For what reason?”
I shrug again, feeling even more self-conscious. “I guess I thought you would judge me. Either think I was a coward for not going for it or…” I hesitate but remember our commitment to being honest with each other and add, “Or that you’d think I was silly for even thinking I could have made it as a doctor.”
He holds my gaze for a long, serious moment before he whispers, “You would have made an incredible doctor. You still could.”
I huff, but smile, a little surprised that he believes in me this much. Maybe he’s noticed more about me than I thought. Or simply noticed…different things. “I’m too old.”
“You are not. Thirty isn’t too old to apply to medical school. There were plenty of people in their thirties in my program. You should do it.”
“I’d rather do you,” I tease, reaching down to pull his boxers down in the back.
He frowns harder. “You can’t distract me with sex.”
I arch a brow as I slither out of the t-shirt I slept in and toss it onto the floor. “Oh, I bet I can.”
He glances down at my breasts, exhaling a soft breath. “All right. You absolutely can. But this is still important. You should do what you feel called to do. You’re an incredible nurse, but if you want to provide patient care in a different way, you should do whatever it takes to make that happen. I’ll help. In any way I can.”
“Thank you, Barrett. Really, that means so much to me,” I say, more touched than I can express with words.
So, I express it by going down on him and riding his cock instead. We get so into our morning fun that by the time we’re done, we only have twenty minutes to get to the session. Barrett jumps in the shower, while I elect for a washcloth wipe down in the name of having time to do my makeup and pull my hair into a French braid.
We dash down the stairs with just enough time to grab coffees and slide, breathless, into the chairs the other nurses have saved for us with just a few seconds to spare.
But a few seconds is all it takes for the six of them to exchange glances and smile. Gretchen shoots me two enthusiastic thumbs-up as Kinsey leans in to whisper, “About time. You two have always been perfect for each other.”
I try to bite back my smile but lose the fight as Barrett gives my knee a quick squeeze and whispers to Kinsey from my other side, “Agreed.”
Kinsey laughs, the session begins, and I proceed to have one of the best weekends of my life. But can this shiny new relationship stand the test of our normal lives back home?
I guess we’re about to find out.