7
DALTON
The message comes the next day when I’m five minutes from home and covered in sweat and grime from a hard day’s work.
Gabriella - I’m in need of some ‘eggplant emoji’. Who’s gonna give it to me?
I pull over, balancing my phone in my hand, and almost drop it in my haste to respond.
Me - I’ll be there in fifteen.
It’s the quickest message I’ve ever sent. My thumbs moved at the speed of lightning. Call me Quick Draw McGraw. Gabriella’s quick to respond, too.
Gabriella - See you in fifteen, big boy.
Gabriella - What am I cooking tonight?
Me - Meatball spaghetti.
Gabriella - Sounds good to me.
Blake - Have fun, kids!
Kain - Blake! Seriously, dude. Not cool.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat, signaling to get back into the flow of traffic, desperate to get home, shower, and head next door in record time. I squeeze my thickening cock, and blow out a long breath, the anticipation getting to me already.
This isn’t any girl. This is Gabriella Cross. My best friend’s little sister. The angel that became the first woman I ever had sexual feelings for. No one has come close to giving me butterflies the way she does. No one has ever made me stumble over my words the way she does.
Getting to finally know what it’s like to be with her is a gift I’ll never know who to thank for. But really, what I want to do is wrap my big body around hers and listen to her talk. I want to find out about her life until I feel like I know her as well as I used to.
The asshole in front of me drives so slowly I’m practically attached to his bumper. It takes every ounce of control I have not to use the horn and I curse fate for placing a snail driver in front of me whenever I need to get somewhere fast. By the time I’ve pulled my truck into our driveway, I’m sweating even more. I grab my phone and keys and storm up to the front door, fumbling with the lock in haste. I strip as I’m striding up the stairs, tossing my clothes into the hamper and getting under the water while it’s still cold.
I could do with taking some of the heat out of my body and the urgency out of my dick. It’s hard as a rock and I haven’t even gotten over the threshold yet.
I scramble into shorts and a T-shirt and shove my feet into sneakers, anything that will be easy to take off, and I jog down the stairs. Throwing open the fridge, I’m grateful that Kain thought to bag up all the groceries. I grab Darleen’s pan and a big container. My phone and keys are by the door. A quick last-minute look in the mirror reveals my cheeks are as hot as the sun.
“Fuck.”
I do not want her to see me looking like a bloody tomato. I rest everything on the console table by the door and press my still frozen hands against my cheeks. My beard is bristly and probably in need of a trim, but there’s no time. It has its benefits when it comes to making oral interesting.
Don’t think about oral.
My dick decides it’s a great time to turn into an iron bar and these shorts do zero to hide anything. A quick look at my phone tells me I have one minute to go, and I hate being late.
Fuck it. I grab everything again, hanging the bag of groceries over my arm so it covers my rogue dick. Then I’m out of the house, blinking into the late afternoon sunshine, feeling all the joys of spring.
At Gabriella’s front door, I don’t waste time. A quick knock ends up sounding thunderous, like I’m trying to punch my way inside. I feel like doing that. Every second it takes Gabriella to answer feels like an age.
When the handle turns and she appears, framed by the doorway, my mouth goes instantly dry.
“Hey,” I manage to croak out.
“Hey, Dalton. Get in here and put all that stuff down.”
I blink once, trying to jolt myself out of my mesmerized state. Gabriella is a picture of elegant beauty in a tight black dress made from a stretchy material that clings to every curve. Teamed with adorable fluffy pink slippers, she’s like an angel and a seductress rolled into one.
I make my way into the kitchen, remembering how Darleen used to bake huge trays of cookies and call us inside from the yard so we could eat them while they were warm and gooey. I rest everything on the counter and Gabriella, who seems so much smaller without her chunky sneakers or boots, begins to search through the bag.
“What do you want to do? I can’t cook this like I did with Kain so that it’s ready after.” Her eyes drift to the door to the hallway like she’s already imagining us climbing the stairs. “I can cook first, or after…”
“AFTER.” The word comes out like a growl and Gabriella’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Alrighty then.” Just at that moment, my stomach rumbles and the amusement that tugs at Gab’s expression is mortifying. “You hungry in more ways than one, Dalton?”
I take a step closer to her, no longer able to hold back the urge I have to touch her. My hand drifts to her hair, taking a soft strand and running it between my rough fingertips. She’s elegant and reserved, and I’m gruff and impatient. I hope the combination will be dynamite.
“This has been a long time coming,” I say, noting that the huskiness in my voice increases the closer I get to her.
“It has,” she whispers as I rest my hand against her slender neck, feeling the fluttering of her pulse under my palm.
I loom over her like the shadow of a mountain, half afraid that I might break her if I let go of my fingernail grip of restraint, half looking forward to showing her what a man like me can do for her. “You think about this a lot?” I ask.
“Since I was thirteen,” she admits.
Shit. I remember those days, feeling her cool blue eyes on me and feeling awkward in my body that had grown too big, too fast. I was halfway to being a man, and she was just a girl, but the connection was there for both of us.
“Tell me what you imagined, and I’ll make it happen.” I trail my thumb over her lips, the rush of breath she inhales cooling my skin.
“I imagine you pulling me into your lap, controlling my movements even though I’m on top.”
Shit. Hearing her fantasy is so damned sexy. Knowing she’s thought about what we’re going to do together in the same way I have is almost too much.
The time for talking and soft touches is over.
I palm her ass, lifting her quickly, forcing her legs around my hips. She’s light compared to what I’m used to lifting every day as part of my job. I silently thank construction for building me into a man who can handle himself. Gabriella gasps as I bring my mouth to hers and stride into the hallway, beginning my ascent of the stairs.
She tastes like minty toothpaste and smells of something floral that tickles my senses. I go easy because I don’t want to give her beard-burn within the first five minutes, but when she moans into my mouth, it’s too much. I stop halfway up the stairs, forcing her back to the wall, grinding my thick cock against her pussy and devouring her lips. We’re a frenzy of scrambling hands and urgent bodies. My knees feel weak, my cock like it could break through the wall currently propping up Gabriella.
When we draw apart for breath, she laughs in a crazed way. “Shit, Dalton. Bedroom now!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I joke, grateful for a moment of lightness and laughter between us, a space in time where I can calm my racing heart.
In Gabriella’s room — Planet Angel as we used to call it — I look around at the big bed, the desk stacked with books and papers, the open closet filled with colorful clothes. Her window faces Kain’s room, and I realize how easy it would be for them to spy on each other if they wanted to. In the corner, by an overflowing bookcase, is a large blue armchair with worn fabric and a fluffy cream cushion. The perfect place for me to make Gabriella’s fantasy come true.
It would be easy for me to sit with her still in my lap, but that isn’t what she imagined. I lower her to her feet, relishing how she has to crane her neck to look up at me. I walk slowly to the chair, easing myself into it like a king taking his place on a throne. She watches as I spread my legs and lean back, resting my arm casually across the arm of the chair. Dropping my head to one side, I take a few seconds to absorb the beauty of the woman in front of me. Her dress is ruffled, her hair mussed from my hand. Her lips are swollen and rosy-pink, and her hands hang at her sides. She seems unsure of what to do, but that’s okay. I want to lead.
“Take off your dress, Gabi. Show me what you’ve been hiding under there.”
Rather than lifting it over her head, she slides a strap from her shoulder, and then another, gradually leading the fabric downward. She reveals a black satin bra with a shiny diamond at the center and breasts that curve into a nice handful. Lower, a narrow waist widens into curvy hips and satin panties that I want to tear from her with my bare hands. A little jewel glints at her navel and I wonder how Blake will react when he finds out Gab has a piercing too. I run my hand over my beard once, twice, and fold in my lips, imagining what she’ll taste like.
It wasn’t part of her fantasy, but it is part of mine.
“Come closer,” I say, using my index finger to beckon.
Gabriella steps from her dress and pads forward until she’s within touching distance.
I hook my fingers into both sides of her underwear, leaning forward to kiss the curve of her soft belly along the line of her panties. Her fingers thread through my hair, setting nerve endings buzzing as I ease my hands down her thighs.
Oh fuck.
I’m so close.
When my fingers touch her ankles, I let go, tapping her inner calf, urging her to widen her stance. I inhale, scenting her arousal, trailing my finger up the inside of her leg until she’s trembling and gripping my hair until it’s almost painful.
Like the deviant I am, I trail my index finger over her entrance, find her already wet enough to fuck. I part those pretty pink petals, loving the way she squirms against my finger. She’s so warm and smooth, and when I find her little clit, it’s swollen and ready.
“Shit, Dalton,” she gasps.
Before she can utter another word, I grab her ass with both hands and tug her hips until my mouth is on her pussy. The first taste is a hit of dopamine so strong it makes my head spin. I’m so damned hungry for more and push my tongue along the path my finger just made, reaching the place where she’s slick and ready and lapping it up. I probe her entrance, feeling it flutter, knowing that just a little deeper inside is that little bundle of nerves that will make her come. If she was on her back on the bed, I could reach it, but like this, it’s impossible.
I flick at her clit, once, twice, then use the roughness of my whole tongue until she’s panting and writhing and so wet that her inner thighs are damp. With one hand, I push down my shorts, freeing my cock. I have to pull back to tear open the foil packet and Gabriella rests both hands on my shoulder, watching.
“Looks like cock size is a genetic factor,” she whispers, with a dance of amusement in her tone.
“Lucky you,” I say, leaning back, letting my cock take center stage. And he does. I’m happy to say that I’m totally in proportion.
“Lucky me,” she whispers.
It’s time for Gabriella to get what she wants.
“Get on here.” I reach for her hand, tugging her closer, supporting her weight as she kneels either side of my hips. My hands cup her ass, tugging her. She unfastens her bra, freeing the breasts I’ve been craving to see bared. Her hair is so long, it hangs like a mermaid’s, revealing her nipples and some creamy, soft skin. I push it away, gathering it in one hand and using my grip on it to bring her closer. When I wrap my lips around one tight point, I relish her soft exhale, and deeper moan as I suck hard.
My mind spins with a surge of blood, driven by my racing heart and all the tension gathering in my body. I’m so close to being inside Gabriella, so close to knowing whether my fantasies were anything close to reality. She shifts forward, one hand reaching between us to encircle my cock. There’s nothing tentative about the way she touches me, grasping hard and pumping with determination. I have to throw my head back to catch my breath and focus on her touch.
It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.
Her wrist is tiny in my big hand, and I squeeze gently, letting her know she needs to stop without having to say the words. “It’s time,” I growl.
“Dalton…”
We both focus on the space between our bodies, watching as I grasp my cock in one hand and shift her body closer with the other. Her pretty pussy is spread wide, and I stroke through her wetness, coating the end of my cock, making us both hiss with pleasure. “Sit on it,” I order, knowing she’ll need the ability to move at her own pace. I hate it when guys brag about rearranging a girl’s guts, but my cock is so big against Gab that it looks as though it’s going to hit her diaphragm.
She bites her bottom lip and frowns, letting my cock press against her little hole. Fuck, this is ridiculous. Impossible. But suddenly, it’s not.
Women are miraculous things. Their bodies seem capable of the impossible. As she lowers down on my dick, inch by incredible inch, I can’t stop watching her stretching and expanding to take me in.
“Fuck, Dalton. You’re such a big boy.”
My heart swells and I wrap my arms around Gabriella, wanting her to feel just how into this moment I really am.