16. Garlic and Sex
garlic and sex
Strider
The rest of the evening passes in a blur. After excusing myself from Mirren’s apartment, I returned to the big house, put away the leftovers, and straightened the kitchen.
After a stare down with the glass of iced vibrator, I returned it to its previous hiding place in my luggage. Once the house was dark and locked up for the night, I took a hot shower and dropped into bed to read. Or so I thought.
I’m sound asleep in the same position two hours later, when the sheet and comforter on the far side lift and Mirren slides under.
Her body stills as she stares at the ceiling in silent contemplation. If it hadn’t been for the beeps of the alarm system being disabled that warned me, I would’ve been shocked to see her.
As it is, she’s not touching me, isn’t facing me, and is unusually quiet.
I want to roll her into me, hold her, and hear her secrets.
Since that’s not on the agenda, I slide my hand over to find hers and intertwine our pinkies.
It’s the least I can touch her while having some contact.
That’s never been me. In fact, I don’t know where any of these thoughts come from.
Her exhale echoes around the room, and she speaks so quietly, I have to focus to hear each word.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for my family barging in.
I’m sorry for being a mess. I’m sorry you had to deal with so much tonight.
You keep giving, keep showing up, and I keep ruining everything.
” She slides her hand into mine and interlaces our fingers.
“Dinner was delicious, by the way. The after-dinner festivities were even better. And my shit got in the way. I’m sorry. ”
I squeeze her hand, not needing to explain that she alone is the reason I keep showing up. She’s my crack, my addiction.
“My mom. My brother.” She throws her free hand over her head. “The kitchen smelled like garlic and sex. I wanted to dissolve into the floor in my embarrassment while simultaneously screaming at Mikey to get out.”
“I’m sorry you were embarrassed.”
“I was mortified. You can’t know, but being the youngest is a whole vibe. The only sister is another. My panties were on the floor, and I was wearing your shirt and no pants.”
“Yeah.” The satisfaction in my voice cannot be more obvious. “I liked you in my shirt.”
“Don’t be smug.” She reaches over to slap my hand holding hers. “My bits were in the breeze, and my brother was eating your pasta.”
“That sounds kinky and not in the way I like.”
“Hush. I’m trying to apologize, and you’re being cute.”
“I like that you think kinky is cute. I can work with this,” I say with a grin.
Her hand in mine squeezes tight, but before she can speak, I cut her off. “And you don’t need to apologize. In fact, I won’t accept your apology. There’s no need for one. I’m in your home, in your town, near your family. There’s no reason to assume they wouldn’t be around.”
“But butting in on our date?”
“Can you control them?”
“Can tsunamis be lassoed?” she replies sarcastically.
“Then that’s your answer.”
“My answer inconveniently made it so your pasta and meat sauce was eaten reheated from the microwave.”
“I didn’t say it was ideal. But I learned young that stressing over shit you can’t control is a great way to be upset, disappointed, and all-around annoyed. It’s bad for the body.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll take that wisdom and let things go.” Under her breath, she adds, “For tonight.”
“Come here.” I tug our joined hands so she gets my meaning. Once she’s plastered to my side with her arm slung low around my waist, I ask, “What did you do this evening?”
“Besides wrangling natural disasters named Mikey and Charlie? Not much. Well, I cleaned my apartment. I needed to burn some energy.”
Her place wasn’t dirty. “And you didn’t want to be here?” My voice is low, only a murmur.
She shakes her head against my chest. “I only wanted to be here. But I wanted to respect you.”
“And how is coming here not respecting me?”
“You’re on vacation, and I’ve only known you for a day. You may have wanted a break from me.” Her thumb draws a random pattern under my pec, distracting my focus, but comforting me, nonetheless.
My arm around her goes tight. “I can’t think of anything further from the truth, Freckles.”
Mirren
“I’m comfortable with you, Strider. And that’s not a thing for me. I’m not easy.”
The hand cupping my ass squeezes tight, and the man in question kisses the top of my head. “You’re the easiest thing in my life.” And from his tone, I can tell he’s serious.
“What about your life is hard?”
His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths. “Jokes aside… Maybe hard is the wrong word. Maybe complicated is better.”
“That sounds like a relationship status,” I say quietly, lulled by his warmth and by the rhythm of his breathing.
“It’s not far from the truth. Sometimes, I wonder if I should break up with the life I’m building and chase something worth it.”
“What’s not worth it?”
“The status quo. What I mean is everything is fine. My job’s fine. My house is fine. Life is… fine.”
“If everything is fine”—my own yawn interrupts me—“why fight a good thing?”
“Because what if on the other side of good is something exceptional and I’m settling for fine?”
“The good versus great thing we talked about last night.”
“Yeah. Ever wonder if everyone just takes the easy path, avoids the challenge, chooses not to fight?”
“Lots of things to fight in life.” I feel myself drifting. “I can see why easy would be acceptable to lots of people. Good enough. No challenge. Why not?”
He begins speaking, a rumble in his chest under my ear. But the rise and fall of breath in his lungs reminds me of being on a boat in the water. Surrounded by warmth, safe in Strider’s arms, I fall asleep not worrying about whether my life could be easy.
Never has been. Never will be.
But like I told him earlier, neither am I.
Waking to sun on my eyelids, I jolt on a start. A warm arm rests heavy on my waist, audible breathing ruffles the hair on my neck, and at my ass, there’s a hot, steel rod. That arm pulls me deep into a wall of chest.
“Good morning.” The raspy words dance along my neck and make my hair everywhere stand on end.
“Morning.” I wiggle in deeper, only to be met with a groan.
I’ve never been a snuggler. I don’t need to be held. I don’t generally want to be contained. Yet, this place is the safest I’ve ever felt. Not awake and strapped with a gun. Not alone. But right here, right now, in Strider’s arms on a sunny fall morning in Alabama.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask.
His low, melodic voice hits me as his nose caresses my ear lobe. “If I say I’ve never slept better, will I scare you away?”
Maybe. Normally yes. “No.” I whisper my next words, “And that scares me.”
“How did you sleep?” His words rumble along my skin.
“I don’t think I moved, and that’s not like me. I’m a more… active sleeper.”
He hums Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting quietly, and I shake with laughter, pushing my ass into his cock.
“You keep that up…” he starts. A quick nip to my earlobe is followed by a flick of his tongue.
“You think I make threats I can’t back up, Anderson? I thought you’d figured me out. Maybe I should show you—”
I never finish. A palm wraps around my throat, his thumb resting on my bruised pulse point, stroking. “Do you always wake up feisty?”
“I can if this is what I get out of it.” I lift a hand to hold his wrist but make no attempt to pull him away.
“What do you want, Freckles? You want it slow and long until you beg me to come? Or do you want it fast and rough?”
“You choose. But I won’t beg, no matter how good it is or how long it takes.”
“If I didn’t know better”—light pressure hits my jugular—“I’d say you just dared me to make you see stars.”
“I mean, if you’re up to the challenge. It’s not like you got to eat your Wheaties this morning.”
A growl meets my ears as my top knee is butterflied open by his. The hair on his leg is abrasive and scratchy. I’m open, exposed, and trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“I know what I want to eat.” The head of his cock slides through my folds, bumping my clit with just enough pressure to make me moan.
“Strider.”
“Keep saying my name like that, baby. Tell me… Are you wet for me?”
Why must I always be the vulnerable one? And no, not after two strokes. That would be… awkward. Removing one hand from his at my throat, I reach between my legs and finger my clit, taking time to stroke him as he slides through my wetness.
I position him at my entrance, and he notches his cock inside me, finding me, stretching me…
… And withholding from me.