26. Fisher
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
fisher
Two hours felt like fifty. Dinner dragged on.
The walk home was never-ending. I swear it’s never taken so long to get Sutton ready for bed.
Time crawled all night long, all because I’ve been counting down the minutes until I can have time alone with the gorgeous blonde who’s taken up residence in my home.
After the quickest shower in history, I threw on a pair of gray sweats and followed the sound of Libby’s voice. I found her in Sutton’s room, reading Charlotte’s Web .
She doesn’t just read the words the way I do. No, she acts out the story. The voice of Charlotte the spider is so different from Wilbur the pig. The expression she puts into each word is impressive.
The girls are snuggled together in Sutton’s bed.
Sutton’s under the pink quilt. Libby, in those tiny-ass shorts, sits with her legs curled under her on top of the covers.
A strange battle rages inside me. Utter relaxation—a sense of peace, knowing my girls are content—mixed with a surge of desire at the sight of Libby.
I want to leave her here so she can giggle with Sutton and make her smile forever, and yet I want to wrap her in my arms, hold her close, and refuse to share her.
Is this what it’s like for parents? Loving their child while craving their partner?
Peace and desire existing on different planes, though bearing the same weight?
“That’s it?” Sutton whines as Libby closes the book. “One more, please? He’ll never know.”
Chuckling, I step into the room. “Oh, yes he will.”
“Darn it.” Sutton slumps into the zillion pillows on her bed. Pink hearts and white squares and even a tiara-shaped pillow. She always needs one more. Must be a girl thing.
“We can read the next one tomorrow.” Libby straightens the bookmark and sets Charlotte’s Web next to the moon lamp.
I click on the LED light and drop a kiss to the top of Sutton’s head. “Sleep well, sweet pea.”
After she’s doled out hugs, I shut off the light and close her door.
I’ve been thinking of nothing but this moment for hours, but now, as we move into my room, an awkwardness hangs in the air.
Libby stops in the middle of the space, shifting on her feet, her attention downcast. “Is this a mistake?”
The breath leaves my body in a hard whoosh. “Mistake?”
She lifts her shoulders slightly and lets them fall. “You and Sutton have this perfect little life here, and my life…” She nibbles her lip, her eyes still averted.
I keep my mouth shut, wanting—no, needing— to hear her worries.
Eventually, she clears her throat and continues. “My life is not perfect. It’s a big mess.” She forces her chin up and meets my gaze, her blue eyes swimming with uncertainty. “So I’m worried that this”—she points to herself, then me—“will be a mistake for you.”
“Libby.” I step in close and rub my hands up and down her arms.
She leans in, her forehead resting against my bare chest, her warmth soaking into me, and trails her fingers along my abs.
The sensation is distracting as hell. I swallow and will myself to focus on the topic rather than the desire her touch inspires.
Talking isn’t my forte, but she needs to hear this.
“The only time I feel like any part of my life is actually my own is when you’re standing next to me.
So no, nothing about you could ever be a mistake.
” I press my lips to the crown of her head and tuck her close.
She’s nervous and I understand that. If she needs more time, I’ll hold her for as long as it takes to make her comfortable.
We don’t have to go any farther than this.
“You may be sleeping in my bed tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to do anything. I need you to know that.”
Her body goes tense against me.
Worried I’ve upset her, I lighten the moment with a tease. “Besides, Sutton’s down the hall, and I doubt you could be quiet.”
Her head snaps back, the worry in her eyes replaced with the brightest sparkle. “You think you can make me scream?”
“Oh, Princess.” I chuckle. “I know that when I finally have you spread out in my bed, when I’m inside you—tongue or cock, take your pick—you will be screaming my name.”
She steps out of my embrace, and for a split second, I worry I’ve crossed a line.
The concern evaporates, though, when she grasps the hem of her T-shirt and slowly, torturously, pulls the garment over her head.
With her flawless pale skin and pretty pink nipples on display, my heart kicks up.
As I drink her in, the buds harden. They’re begging for attention from my fingers, my mouth.
It takes a ridiculous amount of willpower to force my eyes up to her face, but before I touch her, I need confirmation that this is okay.
“Want to bet?” She smirks. “Because I think you’re going to be the one moaning my name.”
That’s all the okay I need. With a step closer, I run my finger along the waist of the tiny shorts, the pad of my thumb brushing her skin, and she shudders.
I cock a brow. “Don’t get shy on me now, Princess.”
In fucking slow motion, she slips her thumbs beneath the pink fabric, and as she lowers her shorts, exposing just a sliver of pale skin at the curve of her hip, my breath stalls.
When she slips them over her ass, anticipation surges in my blood, and when I get my first glimpse of the apex of her thighs, the pussy I’m desperate to touch, to taste, my vision goes hazy.
“Are you going to touch me or stare at me?” she taunts as she steps out of her shorts.
Sassy and gorgeous. My kryptonite. “Just getting my fill.” I force my attention back to her face.
“We are not rushing this.” To make my point, I zero in on her lips, then linger on her neck and her collarbone.
As I work my way lower, I silently show her each place I plan to toy with.
When my gaze lands on the swell of her tits.
I step closer and ghost a hand over her shoulder, being sure not to touch her.
She arches toward me, silently begging, her breathing picking up.
I inch closer, move my hand so it’s millimeters from her breast, still not touching but relishing the heat radiating from her body.
“Please, Fisher,” she breathes.
I freeze, my focus snapping up again. “Please, what?”
“Touch. Me.” She grasps my hand and guides it to her warm skin.
The second we make contact and the weight of her breast settles in my palm, we let out matching groans.
Head tipped back, she sighs. “I want you.”
“I’ve wanted you since the second you landed in my arms.” I might have spent weeks fighting it, but there’s no denying I’ve been under her spell since our very first meeting. Thumbs brushing back and forth across the soft skin I want to spend the night touching, I swallow thickly. “But…”
Small towns suck and this admission does too.
She tenses, her expression shuttering a fraction, like she’s bracing herself to be disappointed.
“I don’t have any condoms.” I should have picked some up the last time I was in Boothbay, but I was still fighting this then.
And fuck if I’ll let anything that happens between Libby and me become fodder for Doris at the store.
She nods. “I’m on birth control. And I was tested right after I left the show.”
My hackles rise in response to that statement, but I refuse to wreck this moment by getting into her history. She’s mine now and that’s all that matters.
Lightly, I graze her nipple with my thumb. “It’s been two years for me.”
Her eyes go wide with surprise.
I fight a grin. “I don’t like people. Remember?”
She stretches up on her toes so our mouths are barely an inch apart. So close that her words vibrate against me. “You like me.”
“You’re different.” I angle close enough to feel her breath on my lips.
“So make me scream, Fisher. I dare you.”
Challenge accepted. Blood pumping, I capture her mouth. When she kisses me back with those full, soft, perfect lips, my cock aches. Groaning, I release her breast and pull her in so that her tits rub against my bare chest.
She shivers, her back arching.
Damn.
Without breaking our connection, I guide her back, then lower her onto the mattress. Only when she’s splayed out beneath me do I release her so I can drink her in.
With one finger, I trace a line down her neck to the swell of her breast, reveling in the way goose bumps erupt in my wake.
“Fisher,” she whispers, back bowing, greedy for more.
The sound goes straight to my cock. Painfully hard already, it strains against the gray sweats, begging to be free.
“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll take care of you.” I drop my mouth to her nipple, teasing her until she arches off the bed, rolling her hips against mine.
“I need you too?—”
I slip a hand between her thighs, cutting off her demands, and slide my fingers through the damp heat of her pussy.
“Damn, you’re so wet for me.” I groan into her neck. “You want me to make you come with my fingers first?” I slip a digit inside her and curl it against her inner wall. “Or my tongue?”
“I don’t…either…both.” The words are broken as I toy with her.
I kiss my way down her body. Her scent fills my nose, spurring me on. “Both, it is.”
With one last kiss to her hip, I trail my lips over her silky skin and use my shoulder to separate her thighs.
“So fucking perfect.” I drag my nose against her flesh.
“Please, Fisher.” She clutches at the sheets on either side of her, her pale skin in sharp contrast to my dark sheets.
Obediently, I lick her from opening to clit. “Yes.”
Her taste explodes on my tongue. Fuck. One dose, and I’m addicted. I lap at her until she’s moaning and thrusting against my face. I slip my finger inside her and curl at the same time my tongue circles her clit.
“Fisher,” she moans as she rocks hard against me. “More. I’m so close.”
Again and again, I lick and suck and nip, and when her pussy quivers, I double my efforts until she pulses around my fingers. As she comes down from her orgasm, I run my tongue over her, taking every drop of her pleasure.
As she sags against the bed, she grasps my shoulders and tugs. I peer up her body, over the smooth hills of her breasts.
Her eyes are dark with desire, her chest heaving with exertion.
“I want you,” she says.
With my focus still fixed on her face, I push to my feet and slide my sweats down.
When my cock juts up like it’s reaching for her, her tongue snakes out along her lower lip.
I give myself a firm tug, and her eyes go wide.
My heart beats hard as I drop down to hover over her.
“Tell me you’re mine, Princess.” I line myself up, but hold still, teasing myself as much as her.
I’m desperate to sink inside her, but I need to hear this first.
“Yes, Fisher.” Her eyes meet mine. “I’m yours.”
Slowly, I slide home, fighting the shivers that course up my spine with each inch I claim.
“Damn right this pussy is mine. It’s begging for my cock.” Her breath stutters and her core tightens around me. “You like that, baby? You ready for me to make you scream?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, head thrashing.
Teeth gritted, I roll my hips. Fuck. Nothing has ever felt this good. She is my perfect fit. My heart takes off, pounding in my ears as I fuck into her over and over. Knowing I won’t last long, I shift and lock her arms over her head, changing the angle until she’s moaning and trembling.
When the tingles start at the base of my spine, I pull out all the stops to ensure she comes first. Knowing that my dirty girl loves words, I bring my lips to the shell of her ear. “Come for me, Princess. Strangle my cock with your pleasure. Milk me until I fill you with my cum.” I swivel my hips.
“Shit,” she whimpers. “Again,” she begs.
Gladly. I thrust and then swirl. Thrust and swirl. Until, finally, her back arches and her hot pussy grips me rhythmically.
“Fisher.”
I drop my mouth to hers and swallow her scream as my own release steals the breath from my lungs.
“Fuck,” I mumble against her lips as I paint her insides with hot jets of cum. Filling her. Marking her.
Legs trembling, I collapse beside her, then yank her body over mine. Her hair splays out over my chest as we pant and gasp for air, our hearts beating wildly against each other.
As she curls into me, a sensation far deeper than pleasure spreads through me. In this moment, I know that no matter where she goes, I’ll never get over Libby Sweet.