Chapter 22 #2
My fingers grip his hair as my entire body begins to seize. He doesn’t stop, though. He continues licking me, flicking my clit back and forth while his fingers curl inside. I ripple around him, crying out as release like I’ve never felt on my own barrels through me.
“Reid!” I cry, helpless to do anything else as white-hot pleasure pulses through my veins. The movements of my body are completely out of my control as my thighs threaten to suffocate him and my fingers pull at his hair.
He doesn’t seem to care, though. In fact, quite the opposite. I can barely hear him over the roaring in my ears, but I catch a muttered, “Fuck yes, that’s it. There we go.”
It sends an extra pulse through my pussy, squeezing his fingers. Once my orgasm begins to fade, he slows his movements. My body melts into the bed as every muscle and bone I have has turned to liquid. Any thoughts in my brain before?
Gone. Wiped clean.
My hands fall from his hair limply. He chuckles at the state he’s put me in. Slowly, he withdraws his fingers and I glance down to watch him put them between his lips.
Holy shit.
His eyes burn into mine as he licks them clean. They release with a pop and he smirks. “A little dessert to end the night.”
What I said earlier, about having no thoughts in my brain? After watching that, I’m not even capable of forming words.
He slaps my thighs and leans over. “I’ll go get some water.” He brushes his lips against mine in a brief kiss, and I taste myself on him. It’s dirty and unlike anything I’ve done before, but I like it. “Be right back.”
He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, tucking his still-hard cock away, and breezes out of the room. The room is suddenly too quiet, too still, like he took all the air with him. Goosebumps pebble my exposed skin and I don’t particularly want to lie here waiting for him to come back.
On shaky legs, I retrieve my underwear from the floor and shimmy them on. I pad downstairs and find myself in the giant living room. It’s dark, but all the exposed windows allow enough moonlight in to be able to make my way around.
There’s a huge leather couch in the shape of an L, with another smaller one on the opposite side, all facing the giant, mounted TV.
Scattered amongst the built-in shelves on either side of it are photos.
Pictures of him with his bandmates, a lot of those, then ones of him with a handsome bald man dressed in a nice suit, and a few of different places he’s traveled.
So many memories, with the people most important to him, and yet I don’t see a single photo from before he was with the band.
“No family photos?” I half tease, glancing over my shoulder at him. He leans against the far wall, backlit by the moonlight pouring in the window. He’s an imposing figure standing there, a glass of water held loosely in one hand, but I’m anything but scared.
He scoffs and tucks his free hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. They sit deliciously low on his waist. “Even if I had any, I wouldn’t have them framed and on display. They’d have been kindling a long time ago.”
“I don’t have any either. It used to bother me, you know.
Not because I wanted a reminder of the people that didn’t want me, but because I don’t even have any baby photos of myself.
” My throat constricts as I look back at the shelves.
“I don’t know what I looked like as a baby.
Was I chubby? Was my hair always this shade of red?
Did I have as many freckles then as I do now? ”
“Your hair was lighter.” I jump when he speaks behind me, not having heard him cross the room.
“At least from what I remember, it was a lighter red than it is now.” He thumbs a few strands reverently, glass abandoned on the coffee table.
“Maybe that’s part of why I didn’t recognize you immediately. ”
“Do you wish you had any baby photos? Don’t you wonder what you looked like?”
His teeth clench and he drops my hair. “No. I honestly haven’t thought about it in a long time. I wouldn’t want to see that version of myself even if I did.”
After his talk with Walker last week, he told me about his past. He’d only ever given me bits and pieces when we were younger. It ached to hear him talk about his mother and being second choice to her addiction.
“Do you wish you would’ve reconnected with her before she died?” I’m hesitant to ask, but selfish curiosity eats at me.
“No. I never wanted anything to do with her after she was taken away in the back of that police car.” His words are harsh, but I don’t blame him for it.
I snake my arms around his waist and hug him, needing to feel his warmth, his strength. He wraps his arms around my shoulders in answer, squeezing me closer.
His chin rests on the top of my head. “Do you ever think about trying to track down your mother? Or your aunt and uncle?”
I wish I could answer no as quickly as he did, and mean it like him, but that’d be a lie.
“I’ve thought about it.” I barely remember my mother, and the memories of my aunt and uncle have grown hazy over the years, along with the anger toward them for abandoning me.
It’s still there, a quiet flame that flares at times, but in order to keep moving forward in my life, I’ve had to stop myself from stoking it.
Reid runs one hand over my hair in gentle, soothing motions.
“That probably sounds crazy to you,” I say, words muffled by his chest. “That I’d ever think about that after everything.”
“It’s not crazy. Just because I’d never do it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t if that’s what you want.”
“But I don’t want it.” At least I don’t think so. I have my family out here. Marley and Sara, my friends, now Reid. I don’t need anything from my biological family.
“Well if you ever decide you do, you can talk to me about it. If you want.”
I lift my head off his chest and stare up at his devastatingly beautiful face. There probably won’t ever be a time in Reid Keely’s life where he’s not the most handsome man in the room.
“Thank you,” I say before rising to my tiptoes and sealing my lips to his.