Chapter 7
Gillian
Light nose nuzzles against my bare shoulder summon a soft moan of acknowledgement from behind my closed lips.
I honestly can’t believe he stayed the night.
I honestly can’t believe he stayed the night and slept beside me naked.
Naked despite the fact we didn’t have sex.
Not that I didn’t want it.
Like a peppermint mocha in the middle of December or a coconut cold brew on the first day of June, I absolutely fucking wanted it.
But he insisted otherwise, which I obviously took supppperrrrr well by trying to pull away from him and out of the moment and out of the situation completely.
Thayne wasn’t having that though.
The more he could see me internalizing what I viewed to be rejection, the more he reassured me it was about timing.
That he didn’t want me to regret flying through a whole season between the sheets in one night.
That he wanted it to mark the start of something real and meaningful and lifechanging versus something I could easily pass off as simple touch starvation.
And that’s a real thing!
People do all sorts of crazed and impulsive things when they’re starving for connection – physical, emotional, mental – and Thayne was adamant about proving that’s not what was happening between us.
Whatever we’re brewing is Tina Turner deep.
His words.
The arm draped across my stomach possessively flexes at the same time a kiss lovingly lands near the nape of my neck. “Mornin’, Gillybean.”
Another tender press presents itself against my skin next to the first prompting me to airily coo in return, “Good morning, Jukes.”
“It definitely is if I get to wake up next to you,” he proclaims, hold tightening once more as his swollen cock casually brushes itself along the curve of my ass cheeks. “All of me thinks so, Slayer.”
Calling me Slayer – the proper term given to Dalvegan Dragon’s wives and long-term girlfriends – is something that should probably receive a whistle.
Be called a penalty.
It’s not a flirty little label like rocket or sniper or stud summoner.
It’s one filled with purpose and stronger meaning and very clear intentions.
It’s basically a word wedding ring.
You only give it to the one who belongs on your permanent roster.
Not the amateur rookie still trying out.
Thayne’s fingers slowly drift lower as his dick indulges in another small rocking, this one leaving precum in its wake.
“You feel that?” He casually sways again ensuring that I do.
“You feel how every inch,” word immediately emphasized by his long, thick shaft languorously dragging itself the length of my ass yet again, “of me wants you?” Considering a response isn’t even a possibility courtesy of his finger lightly caressing my clit.
“Does every inch of you,” feathery brushes summon soft whimpers, “want me, Slayer?”
“Yes,” escapes alongside the mindless spreading of my thighs.
“Right…” the dipping of his finger inside is accompanied by his hot breath against my ear, “here?”
Instinct has me reaching behind me.
Latching onto his locks.
Arching my back.
Airily huffing and grinding my hips.
“You want me deep,” he devilishly curls the digit during another ardent thrust, “in the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen?”
Blushing and flushing fuses together not only prompting me to keep my eyes screwed shut but my words trapped in my throat.
“You want me to fill you up, baby?” Bucking my ass back into the question allows for his cock to nestle itself deeper between my cheeks. “Make you drip for me?” Wetness soaks itself past his knuckles while the muscles greedily suck him in deeper. “Have me between these thighs all fuckin’ day?”
“Ohmyg-” teeth ferally clamp down on the shell of my ear rewriting the phrase on a spine-tingling shiver, “goalie…”
Pleased rumbles can be felt rattling his chest. “Good girl.”
Praise shown by pumping his finger faster.
His hips.
Licking the spot he just bit and groaning.
“You’re such a good girl, Gilly,” purrs the man I’m now actively squeezing my cheeks around. “Such a good girl grabbing my cock like that.”
The adoration is instantly met by tighter holding and faster bucking.
“Such a good girl letting me have this ass.”
My backside and pussy clamp down in tandem.
“Such a good girl letting me come.”
Just hearing the word threatens to have me doing so.
“Is that what you want, baby?” Thayne’s palm presses itself firmly against my swollen nub, adding pressure. Urgency. “You want me to paint this perfect ass white?”
Dreamily nodding barely precedes me frantically bumping my sticky lower half backwards, plumpness incessantly grazing his balls.
Faltering his jerks.
Wordlessly imploring he do exactly that.
“You want me to give you a snow shower?”
Feeling his shaft swell even more during his descriptions pushes me to grind harder.
Savagely stroke him from root to tip.
Oscillate between sloppily coating his cock and drenching his palm.
“You want me to snow the Tendy’s Slayer?”
“Yes,” rushes past my lips on a heavy pant, pussy already beginning to pulsate in warning. “Please…” Begging in a sultry voice I can hardly believe is my own mindlessly occurs. “Please, Thirty-Five.” Animalistic grumbles graze my ear. “Please, snow me, Thirty-Five.”
Short, choppy breaths plant themselves all across my neck and collarbone as long, blazing hot bursts bury themselves between my cheeks, blanketing my curves and tiny, taut hole alike.
Heavenly sensations from the steady splashes shove me over orgasm’s edge causing my legs to clasp close and my frame to uncontrollably shake and my sopping wet muscles to voraciously milk his finger in hopes of it delivering the same delicious mess his dick did.
Sighs of satisfaction swiftly shift into screams of ecstasy only to be smothered out by his mouth ravenously capturing mine. Our tongues covetously roll around and around and around, encouraging our frames to do the same.
For me to transition onto my back.
And him onto my front.
And his cock – that’s already preparing for round two – to thump against my inner thigh.
Thayne’s mouth struggles to separate from mine yet when it does, he breathlessly murmurs, “Fuck…tell me you’ve got a glove, Gillybean.”
“I-”
Unexpected vibrations and ringing sounds interrupt my answer along with the moment.
“And blocked by the buzzer,” Thayne good naturedly laughs prior to kicking his chin at the device. “You should probably check that, aye?” Denial can be seen clearly in my expression. “Could be a work emergency.”
“This early?” I grumble at the same time I reach over to grab it. “Unlikely.” Casually swiping the answer button without bothering to look precedes me stating, “This is Gillian.”
“And this is her brother,” M lightly laughs from the end, “wondering why I’m talking to her ear.”
Snapping my attention over to see my brother’s sweaty face in the camera instantly fills me with panic.
“And why you’re still in bed.”
Horror has me aggressively pushing my goliath off me and flailing my hand towards my ensuite bathroom. “Uh…”
“You sick?” He wipes the sweat off his brow while I tug the blanket upward to cover my tits. “You’re usually in the office by now.”
“By now?” fumbles out in a confused whisper prompting me to check the time once my back’s resting against my padded, white headboard. “Holy shit it’s already nine?! When did that happen?!”
“After eight.” Additional chuckles shake his frame. “That’s how time works.”
His snarky nature is immediately met by a sharp glare. “Why are you like this?”
“Because that’s how big brothers work.”
Irritation and amusement fight for reign of my expression. “And why is mine up at four a.m. on his so-called vacation instead of balls deep in his wife?”
“Gotta stay in shape for the boys,” he smoothly informs. “Lead by example.”
The very mention of his team instills guilt.
Large.
Mountain sized.
Guilt.
He’s over there sweating for all of them while I’m over here coming for one of them.
Pretty sure this is not the team player mentality he wants to hear about.
“And I’ll have you know,” cockiness clearly cuts into his tone, “I was balls deep in my wife last night, thank you very much.”
“Dry spellski over,” I warmly chortle. “Congrats.”
His dramatic hand wave and bow gets us both laughing.
Most people can’t talk to their siblings like this.
Especially not their brother.
But we’ve never been most people.
And I wouldn’t want us to be.
“Puck’s passed back to you, Gilly,” M announces, sounds of the ocean waves crashing in the background behind him. “What gives? Why are you still in bed? Sick?”
Choosing my words wisely occurs on a small wince. “Late start.”
“Because of a late night?”
Hesitation to answer remains prevalent. “You could say that.”
“And is that late start still there?” My mouth lowers to reply yet before I can even consider a clever answer a hiccup escapes prompting him to point a stern finger at me. “Don’t try to lie to me.”
Ohforcryingoutloud, why oh why of all the tells a person could have did mine have to be hiccups?!
Anytime and every time a lie could come out or is about to come out, I hiccup instead.
It’s fucking weird and unfortunate and a built-in lie detector I did not need.
It’s also the reason no one tells me about super-secret surprises anymore.
Or asks me about spoilers for shows.
Or invites me to play poker.
Not that I’m a huge fan of the latter.
I’d rather play trivia games.
Post a hard swallow, I slowly announce, “I am…currently…alone…in my bedroom.”
“Very specific, sis.”
“Very nosey, bro.”
He lightly laughs and teasingly waves his finger at me. “Did you wait ‘til I went on vacay to get some?”
“Not,” a hiccup displays itself, “exactly.”
“Clearly not the whole truth.”
“Yet,” another hiccup, “not a whole,” a third, “lie.”
“You sound so sussy.”
Words aren’t given a chance to form.
Just more hiccups.
“Given that you’ve never been into wheeling just to wheel, I’m going to assume the broskie hiding in your bathroom actually means something to you, so tell him I look forward to getting to know him over a brewskie when I get back.”
Another pang of guilt slams into my chest, knocking away the hiccups for something worse.
So.
Much.
Worse.
“I need to go get ready,” meekly escapes on a small adjustment of my phone.
“We both definitely need to hose off,” he playfully pokes with a wink.
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”
“I love you too,” M laughs once more prior to ending the call.
The instant his face disappears from the screen; I slam my head backwards and shut my eyes.
What the hell am I doing?
I can’t actually date Thayne.
Not while he plays for my brother.
Not while it’s clearly a conflict of interest.
And it is.
Like the cliffhanger on every episode of La Hermana Amorosa it’s a guaranteed setup for disaster.
My bathroom door squeaking slightly precedes a cautiously muttered, “’Light of a Clear Blue Morning’?”
Fairly certain that’s a song reference I don’t know, I open my eyes and prepare to inquire about it only to be diverted by something too disgusting to ignore. “Is that my toothbrush?!”
Thayne continues to brush on a casual nod.
“You’re using my toothbrush?!”
A second unbothered nod.
“That’s so fucking gross!” I squeak in outrage at the top of my lungs.
He holds up a finger, backtracks into the bathroom to spit in the sink, and then steps back into the entry way. “I had my tongue in your ass for hours last night but me usin’ your toothbrush is gross?”
“Extremely.”
“Extremely gross?”
“That’s the grossest fucking thing I’ve ever personally encountered.”
Amusement and confusion clamor in his expression as he leans against the edge of the frame. “That’s a new one.”
“And that’s your new toothbrush.” Laughter begins in us both. “Make sure you take it with you.”
“Or,” he bashfully bounces his head around, “I could leave it here.” His music note bearing arms innocently fold across his bare chest. “For the next time we spend the night together.”
The paradoxical yearning at the pit of my stomach and panging in the center of my chest pushes me to sink further beneath the cover.
Crumple over the clashing notions.
How can I continue anything with him knowing M would lose his shit about it?
How can I basically betray my brother by dating one of his players, which I’m pretty sure is infinitely worse than dating one of his teammates.
He completely lost his shit the one time an attempt was made.
Not only did he punch out his own captain – a major unspoken crime in the barn – he refused to talk to me for over a week.
Mari and Mom had to trick him into a family dinner to simply give me a chance to be heard.
M explained how he felt lines had been crossed and that trust was now in question and that he needed certain things separate in his life.
He didn’t ask me what I needed.
Or wanted.
No one has.
Thayne sweetly smiles in my direction.
Almost no one.
“Everything okay with Coach?” inquires the man whose delectable abs are quite distracting at the moment along with his cut V and great cock.
Bit more thickness than length, yet I have no doubt in its abilities.
Nor can I wait to experience them.
Should I even let myself experience them?
Should I even be considering it?
“Yeah, um…” my head shakes off the runaway thoughts, “he’s on vacation for a couple weeks and was just checking in.”
“You two are pretty close, aye?”
There’s no stopping my shoulders from dropping further during the confession, “He’s my best friend.”
Thayne slowly nods his understanding but doesn’t rebut.
“And that means…that…we…probably…shouldn’t…” the end of my sentence is left to linger in the air despite the words not actually forming.
“I hear ya,” he sweetly announces, voice soft and sympathetic, “but does he hear you?”
The question furrows my brow.
“You’re always worried about what other people want or want for you, but who listens to what you want, Gillybean?” His lips briefly press together. “Shouldn’t you get a chance to say what that is? And if you don’t know, shouldn’t you get a chance to figure it out?”
Stopping my mouth from sliding towards my lap is impossible.
“Shouldn’t you get a chance to explore what makes you happy and who makes you happy?”
Bobbing my jaw seems to be all I’m capable of.
“I know who I want, Gillian.” Brightness in his beam is blinding but exhilarating. “I’ve known since the minute I saw you in that blue jean dress that I was the one that would be willin’ to do anything to put boots on those feet.”
I can’t hide my giggles or blushes or lip biting.
“Do you really wanna hit stop on whatever we’ve got goin’ on between us or do you wanna spend the next couple of weeks pullin’ a Lionel?”
“Meaning?” is practically whispered.
“Do you wanna see if it’s me you’ve been lookin’ for?”