8
GAbrIELLA
There’s a song by SZA called Big Boy and it’s been running through my head on a loop since I opened the door to Dalton, and he obliterated the light that should have streamed in from outside with his huge body.
Damn, he’s massive. Big hands like shovels. Broad chest and thick arms corded with the muscles of a working man. Dark beard I could get lost in. And his cock? Well, all I can say about that is ‘chef’s kiss’.
Dalton’s not a boy anymore.
That ship has sailed.
He’s well and truly a man who’s capable of wrecking my comparably tiny body. Right now, I feel like I’m a finger puppet, and Dalton’s cock is a giant fist. What’s happening between us shouldn’t be humanly possible, but somehow my body is making it work.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am that he’s pushing into the stretchiest part of me, or that he’s allowing me complete and total control.
It’s a struggle for him to hold back. I can tell by the way he’s gripping the arms of the beaten-up old chair that I love so much, and the way his jaw ticks with restraint.
Shit, that part is sexy.
Dalton’s like a large breed dog, all big and strong and friendly, but behind the facade, I know he’s a fucking animal. I just hope he’s going to let go and show me that part of him. If I can’t make him growl like a grizzly, I’m going to feel like a failure.
I drop my head back, letting my hair tickle my lower back, gripping Dalton’s inked bicep, using small thrusts to take him deeper. “Fuck,” I groan, as my eyes roll. The stretching is so good, so perfect.
Yesterday with Kain flashes through my mind, but it doesn’t feel weird to be thinking of another man during sex with Dalton. The Nowaks always do everything together. Somehow it makes this deal we have feel natural even though to anyone else it would be strange and maybe a whole lot of fucked up.
“You’re nearly there.” Dalton’s voice is husky and his hands have moved to grip my hips. In my fantasy, he used me like a rag doll, forcing my body to move over his, demanding what he wanted and making me come like a banshee in the process.
“Make me,” I whisper, not wanting to be patient anymore. The tips of his fingers press deeper into my flesh, and he shoves me down until his cock bottoms out. I’m not close to taking him all. I could still wrap my hand around the thick root of his erection if I could reach that far, but that’s not what Dalton wants.
What he wants is my slick pussy, clasping whatever he can push inside me. He wants my hands on his chest, grabbing at him in a frenzied, desperate way that seems to make him crazy. I bend to kiss him, managing to keep my mouth on his even as I bob up and down, impaled on his monster-sized cock. In less than a minute, and with no friction on my clit at all, I’m gasping. “Oh…oh…fuck…oh…Dalton…don’t…fucking…stop.”
And he doesn’t. He keeps grabbing at me, shifting my hips, hammering against my G-spot until it’s me who’s grunting like an animal in heat. I lose control of my limbs, legs going limp, hands slipping from Dalton’s skin; a marionette with its strings suddenly severed. Dalton wraps his enormous arms around me, cradling me against his chest. He smells so good, like the forest and sea breeze and sexy, sexy man. His beard scratches my forehead as he presses desperate kisses there. He’s still shifting beneath me, letting his cock slide in and out, slowly keeping a rhythm that isn’t too much for me. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers against my skin. “That’s it. Let me take care of you.”
His rough hands caress my body in long slow strokes, relaxing me and prolonging my blissed-out state. “That feels good,” I whisper.
“I know what you need,” he says. The words should sound cocky, but they don’t. Mostly, he sounds happy at the idea that he can please me. Dalton’s awesome with the aftercare that most guys don’t seem to have a clue about. His focus hasn’t shifted to chasing his own release. His ocean eyes watch me, taking in everything, and I wonder what he’s thinking and feeling about this moment.
Is it weird to be buried between the thighs of a girl you used to play tag with in your backyard? Is it weird to touch her tits and lick her pussy, and to know her so intimately?
From my perspective, it isn’t weird at all, and I’m not sure how I should feel about it. These men have been a solid and stable part of my life for so long. I’ve lusted after them for more years than it’s probably been good for me. I trust them in a way I’ve never been able to trust another man. That isn’t to say I trust them with my whole heart and soul, but that has more to do with my own hang-ups than the Nowak brothers themselves.
It feels natural to let Dalton pet me gently with his big, rough hands. It feels good to sink against him because I know this means as much to him as it does to me. I remember when I fell on the sidewalk outside our houses, and he picked me up and carried me inside so my mom could tend to my shredded knee. He watched the whole cleanup and bandaging process, biting the side of his nail with as much concern as if I was having my whole leg stitched back on.
I touch his face as the tenderness I felt when I was a clumsy kid rushes back to me with as much force as if it had happened yesterday.
“That was so fucking sexy,” he says, kissing the pad of my thumb. Inside me, his cock seems to thicken, an indication that he’s ready for his turn now.
“Let me feel you come, Dalton,” I say, pressing a kiss to his soft lips, relishing the scratch of his facial hair against my skin.
A growl rumbles in his throat, and as if he can’t wait anymore, Dalton starts to thrust upwards. My breasts bounce with every movement, and I have to grip his shoulders to stay upright. “Oh…oh…” I pant, wincing a little as he hits too deep every so often, wanting to weep from how close he’s bringing me to coming again.
His eyes are closed, his jaw set, his biceps so bunched that his veins bulge tracks through the skin. The lion on his shoulder seems fiercer, as though it’s going to roar at the same time as Dalton growls his release.
“That’s it,” I say. “Fill me up, baby. Fuck me with that big cock. Fill me…” I don’t get to complete the sentence before Dalton swells, jerking into my pussy as though his life depends on it. He unleashes a rumbling groan that can probably be heard from the sidewalk, clutching at my body with fingers that I know will leave bruises in the morning. For all his care, in the moment of ecstasy, his carefulness crumbled, replaced by a frenzy of desire.
“Fuck,” he breathes, still pumping his hips, still holding me against him so tightly I can barely inhale. “Fuck, Gabi. Oh Fuck.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, bring our bodies so close that there’s not even a paper’s width of space between us, and he hugs me tightly too.
When his cock slides out with an audible plop against his belly, he sighs with contentment, and I laugh just a little with happiness.
This deal is going better than I ever could have hoped for. These men know just how to rock my world without shattering my heart. There isn’t a single downside to this kind of low-risk sex.
I’ve never had a fuck buddy before, but that’s what my brother’s best friends are quickly becoming.
I fiddle with the hair at the back of Dalton’s neck, letting him relax. I need to pee, probably because his dick violated my body in the best kind of way. But I’m not going to disturb our post-sex peace. No buzzer is going to go signaling the food is ready like yesterday. There’s no pressure for us to move at all.
“My god, girl. You just about killed me.” He takes my hand and presses it to his thudding heart. Since the last time I saw Dalton shirtless he’s developed a dusting of soft dark hair across his chest that makes me want to purr.
“What a way to go, though, right?”
He laughs, sliding his hands over my thighs and hips, happily exploring the landscape that almost brought about his untimely death. “The best, baby. That would be the best.”
I swat his dinner-plate sized pec. “I’m not ready to lose you just yet.”
“That’s good to hear.”
I sigh softly, snuggling into his embrace. It’s natural and easy to be this way with him, as though no time has passed since we were lying in the long grass, counting insects and watching the clouds morph into fluffy white shapes. Unlike Kain who was in a rush, I have time to connect with Dalton and I’m going to make the most of it. “What did you think when Kain told you about our little deal?”
“I thought I hit the jackpot, but before that, I wondered if my little brother might have had an aneurysm!”
“And Blake?”
“You know Blake. He’s always happy about everything. That guy can see the bright side at midnight.”
“He can,” I agree, Blake’s lopsided smile and sparkling eyes flashing into my mind. “And you aren’t jealous of each other?”
Dalton shrugs. “Nowaks are taught to share from an early age. It’s a family thing. The threat of my father giving us a good whooping if we didn’t was enough to ensure our compliance.”
“I think your dad would give you a good whooping if he could see you now.”
Dalton nods, blowing out a tight breath. “You’re right about that. I don’t think your mom would be too happy about the deal either…or Travis.”
“Well, they don’t need to find out, do they? Kind of makes it more fun to sneak around.”
“The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.” He nods, agreeing with the sentiment of the phrase, and I stare at him, surprised. Of all the Nowak brothers, Kain always seemed like the most intellectual, with Blake running second. Dalton was the one who was best with his hands. The practical one. He had his heart set on working with his dad from an early age, so I wouldn’t have expected him to be so philosophical.
“I like the idea of being forbidden,” I whisper, and he slaps my ass affectionately.
“Who would have thought sweet little Gabriella would grow up to be such a naughty girl?”
“A lot changes with time, doesn’t it?”
Dalton nods. His eyes drift to the tattoo on his forearm of his mom when she was in her early twenties. It’s almost photo quality and the softness in her eyes reminds me so much of Dalton. “Yeah. Not all for the best.”
I know he’s talking about his mom, and I suddenly think of my dad; sad changes for two very different reasons.
“What time’s your mom back?” he asks.
I look up, forcing myself to remember what day it is and her shift patterns. “Two hours,” I say. “I’ll make our dinner at the same time I make yours.”
“I’ll help you,” Dalton says. “Maybe you can teach me. We can’t be reliant on your charity for too long.”
“It’s not charity when you’re giving me something in return, Dalton.”
He raises his eyebrows, dropping his head to one side. “I think we’re getting more than our fair share from this deal. You need to come up with something else you want to even things out.”
I rub my chin, narrowing my eyes to appear comically thoughtful. “Mmmmm…what else can I ask for?”
“Flowers. Chocolates. Foot rubs.”
“Aren’t all those things relationship material?”
Dalton shrugs, seemingly not bothered about the idea of taking this deal out of booty call territory and into something more romantic. “How about jewelry?”
“Damn, Dalton. Are you trying to hit top-boyfriend status?”
“You deserve the world, Gabriella.”
My breath rushes between my lips. In five words Dalton takes us from joking into throat burning, tear-jerking territory. I swallow down the lump and paste on a bright smile. “Let’s go cook you some meatballs and you can decide if the world is enough.”
I shift to stand on shaky legs and Dalton holds me by the hips while I let the blood flow back into my cramped limbs. Before I move away to search out something to wear that’s suitable for cooking in, he touches the soft curls between my legs. “I like this,” he says. “Don’t ever wax it away like those women in dirty movies. I hate that prepubescent look. I like a woman to be a woman.”
I’ve never wanted to wax myself into Barbie territory, but I assumed most men would prefer it. It’s good to hear that not all men internalize the images they see in porn. If it’s possible, his grown-up attitude only makes me like him more.
“Yeah, well you need to keep this too.” I touch the soft dusting of hair across his chest and follow the path of his happy trail down his stomach. “I like a man to be a man.”
Dalton takes my hand and kisses my fingertips, rising from the chair to loom over me. We dress in a comfortable silence, and as I’m pulling on a shirt, I spot movement in Kain’s room through my sheer drapes. My window is open and so is his. Depending on how long he’s been home, he might have heard me and Dalton in the throes of passion.
When Dalton’s dressed in his shorts and shirt, I open my bedroom door and we both descend the stairs. With every step, it’s like real life comes into focus. Pictures of me and Travis line the wall, but I don’t focus on them today.
My mom’s apron hangs behind the kitchen door, and I’d usually use it, but today it doesn’t feel right.
It’s only spaghetti and meatballs, but somehow, the very prospect of cooking for the Nowaks is now twisted up in the hottest sex I’ve ever had.
I’m never going to be able to look at spaghetti and meatballs the same again!