Chapter 31 Tyler #3
She inhales sharply, her body tensing a little. I slip my hand down her shoulder and trace my index finger over the swell of her breast, teasing her nipple.
She’s tight as a bow string all of a sudden, her back arched, her head falling. "Ty…"
"You like that?"
"Mmmm."
I set the wine aside and give some attention to her other breast. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and she’s making those soft moaning sounds I love so much.
I can feel her trembling against me, which only fuels my own need. My cock is fully erect, pressing against her ass and ready for action.
Calm the fuck down, I think to myself. There's a whole night ahead of us.
I dip my head and trail kisses along her neck. She tastes like vanilla cupcake and herbs and everything I've ever wanted.
Slowly, I slide my fingers lower, dipping them under the water, then skim them over her stomach before moving to her inner thigh.
She gasps, her eyes squeezed shut, and I know she's as ready as I am.
"Shh," I whisper in her ear, nipping at her earlobe. "Just feel it."
Our wine forgotten, her hands grasp the edges of the tub as I continue my ministrations, teasing her until she's writhing against me. The heady scent of arousal mingles with the lavender in the air, and it’s driving me wild.
She grinds against my cock.
The goddamned friction. It’s divine.
She moans a little louder when I brush my fingers over her pussy.
My heart hammers in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
She shifts, turns around, and straddles my thighs, rubbing herself over my length. The change of angle has my head spinning. Soon, we’re both panting.
Finally, unable to take it any longer, I slip two fingers inside her wet heat. She’s soaked there. I can feel it even though we're in water. And the thought of it sends a jolt of need straight to my core.
"Fuck," I mutter, kissing her temple. "You’re dripping."
She doesn’t reply. She just licks her lips, and I claim her mouth in a hungry kiss while fucking her slowly with my fingers. The water sloshes around us, and my cock throbs in anticipation, aching to be inside her again. She grabs it, giving it a light tug, and my balls are about to explode.
"I need you," I growl, withdrawing my fingers and thrusting my cock into her with one powerful, unrelenting motion, plunging deep until there's no else left to fit.
She gasps at the sudden invasion, her body yielding with a hint of defiance.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I drive myself into her, relishing the overwhelming surge of heat and pressure and slickness.
She wraps her legs around my waist, using her grip to rock her hips against mine, meeting each of my thrusts with equal fervor. "Ty," she moans. "Fuck, Ty."
I can't even form a coherent sentence in response, so I bury my face in the crook of her neck and groan instead.
Her body feels like heaven wrapped around mine, hot and wet and perfect.
I never want this moment to end. I want to stay here forever, lost in her, drowning in the feel of her skin against mine, experiencing every bit of this bliss, experiencing it like I should have been all this time.
And then she rides me, she rides me like the fate of the world depends on us.
It’s wild and loud and filthy and beautiful. Het tits bounce and her mouth falls open, forming that perfect O again. It's calling to me and I grab her chin, shove my thumb inside. She bites down, circling her tongue over my skin first and then sucking on it.
Fuck. This is the sexiest thing I've seen in my entire life.
She jerks, readjusts her grasp on my shoulders. Her head falls to the side and I can feel her losing control, losing herself as she nears climax. Her entire body tensing around me, her pussy spasming around my cock, squeezing it with such a delicious grip.
"Oh God," she pants out. "Oh fuck."
That's all it takes to push me over the edge together with her. I wrap my arms are her waist and hold on to her firmly as I come inside her, every muscle in me tightening as wave after wave of pleasure comes, crashing me, crashing her, crashing us with its force.
We collapse together in the tub, panting. Water splashes over the side and onto the floor as we laugh breathlessly at the mess we’ve made.
"You better leave a good tip," she whispers when she's finally able, her voice brushing against the air like a feather. Her cheeks are flushed, a rosy shade that matches the glow of outside lights streaming through the window.
I glance at her sparkling eyes, which seem to hold their own universe filled with mischief and excitement.
Right now, I'm completely under her spell—a hundred percent ready to obey every whim she has.
Whether it requires dropping a generous wad of cash on the table or jumping from the plane without a parachute.
A couple of weeks later, I’m the awkward tourist of grief, stamping my pass at the memorial service for Jose Medina held at the local church.
Their extensive family fills the room with a constellation of relatives, friends, neighbors, even The Gobbler regulars. Jose’s life unspools through stories told by countless speakers, each thread drawing them together in a close weave that my presence seems to interrupt.
My own parents are there, mixed in at the front of the room.
Mom attempted to drag me along, but I lied, stating that I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Being sort of famous and all.
I’m standing in the back corner, trying to look inconspicuous, hoping no one approaches.
My heart’s an anxious beat in my throat as I’m wondering how Naomi truly feels about me being here.
She did ask me to come. Said her mother would love for me to stop by.
But this tension between me and Adri has been off the charts lately.
Last week, he caught me leaving the casino one night.
I’d stopped by to see Naomi after her shift, and we had a couple of drinks at the bar next to Oasis.
Asshole was patrolling the parking lot in his cruiser when I was headed for my car.
He had the audacity to use his fucking siren on me, then chased me all over the lot with the lights on. It was embarrassing.
And that’s the main reason I’m hiding out in my spot, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.
But unfortunately, Letty spots me. She closes the distance between us with a smile and pulls me into a hug.
"Why are you standing here all alone?" she asks. "Come on up."
"It’s all good, Mrs. Medina," I counter. "I don’t want to intrude."
"What nonsense. You’re not intruding." She pulls me to the front of the room, where Naomi’s talking to some of her cousins.
"You two forgot your son," Letty tells my parents as she nudges me toward the circle of people gathered next to her.
"Tyler?" one of them says, extending a hand for a shake.
"Long time no see," the other one adds.
"We heard you were in town."
"Weren’t you at the funeral?"
"And the talent show?"
They shoot questions at me like tennis balls while Naomi watches.
Today, her eyes are sad and tired, and she’s avoiding holding my hand in public.
We haven’t really told anyone what’s been happening between us yet, and doing it here and now would be disrespectful to her father’s memory.
It’s his day, the celebration of his life.
Letty sits me beside her, beside family. Beside an empty chair that apparently belongs to Adri. He shows up moments later and gives me a death stare, then settles next to me. I want to run, leave the building this second, but that would probably only make it worse.
The silence between him and me is loaded, a time bomb waiting for the right fuse. Then, during his aunt’s speech, when she pauses to collect her thoughts and flip the page she’s using to read her notes, he hisses, "Be grateful my mother is here. Otherwise, you’d be dead meat, Brady."
He’s quiet again as the stories roll out while the laughter and tears blend together. It’s a harmony of belonging, but I can’t focus on the words, only on the unspoken language of everyone’s faces, how they reflect years and years of history.
I don’t know why I feel so emotional. Death is inevitable in this life.
I’m grown up enough to know Jose would eventually be gone.
When he didn’t gain consciousness two years ago after the stroke, it was obvious that he was barely holding on.
Still, there’s a tightness in my chest, dark and uncomfortable.
Naomi’s at the end of the row, one chair over.
Her expression is solemn and a little withdrawn when I glance at her.
She turns her face to me as if she senses my gaze on her.
Adri clears his throat.
I look away.
It takes forever for the service to end. I’m on edge, on fire, on the verge of walking out before anyone sees me like this.
Letty keeps me near, her arm light on my back as she talks to relatives, neighbors, even a couple I’ve never met but remember seeing with Naomi at the talent show.
They all look at me with a mix of curiosity and recognition, piecing together my place in this narrative, which makes me wonder again if I truly belong here.
I ask where the restroom is and excuse myself.
In the hallway, Adri catches up with me. There’s fire of our unfinished business in his eyes. We face off, a decade and more of tension compressed into the narrow space.
"What game are you playing with my sister?" Adri’s voice is low, lethal.
I see no point in denying anything. "It's not a game."
He steps closer. "Then what the hell is it, Brady? You got bored of the road, decided to screw with her head again?"
The words sting, even though I saw them coming. But I stand my ground, refusing to let him see the uncertainty gnawing at me. "You don’t get it. You never did, you selfish asshole."
"I get enough to know your pattern. Show up, act like you care, then leave. The sooner you cut the crap, the less it’ll hurt."