22. Skylar
22
SKYLAR
This time, pulling up to Kit’s house, I had no idea what the night would bring.
After talking to Desi and Sam—admitting I didn’t want this to be over—and then actually saying it out loud to Kit, I realized just how much I meant it.
Here’s hoping the cowboy shows me something good.
Waiting in the driveway was a solid start. He didn’t even let me open my own door.
Things had been awkward since Austin, but he was trying. He’d listened. He’d done what I asked. And the fact that he still made me smile… maybe I was being an idiot.
Or maybe I don’t have to internalize his bullshit while also giving him a tiny smidge of grace.
I knew for sure he was nothing like Rich. If Rich had a son who was anything less than his version of perfect . . . shudder . I wouldn’t want to be that kid. But I had the sense Kit didn’t view his son as imperfect, or someone to be loved in spite of his ‘issues.’ Reed was simply Reed, and Kit took him as he was, working with his mother to ensure he had everything he needed.
I’d also realized, belatedly, that Kit had never once judged me for my makeup and clothing choices, never once had he given me even the smallest hint of side-eye. He’d been curious, unguarded, and very, very imperfect with me.
I refocused on the man in front of me, who was holding out his hand, the look in his eyes so vulnerable I didn’t know what to do with myself. So, I took his hand and let him lead me into his house. Through his living room and into his kitchen. He let go of my hand and reached into the gorgeous metal wine rack, producing an expensive-looking red. He pulled out two delicate, long, stemmed glasses, and set them on the counter, then gripped the edge, lowering his head.
“Kit?”
“Can I please hug you?” he asked, more to the pretty granite than me.
I couldn’t help my smile. Kit Baker was asking me for a hug.
“Yes.”
He pivoted and had his arms around me before I could blink, holding me tight as he pushed his face into my neck, just like he had before. I circled my arms around his waist and his body went heavy, each of us collapsing into the other. We stood there in his kitchen, holding each other, swaying to background music only the two of us could hear.
His breathing pitched up, then slowed, our energies twining around each other, dissipating the hurt like a magic trick.
“You are so fucking special,” he said to the thin patch of skin under my ear. “Please tell me I haven’t fucked it up too much.”
“This hug isn’t hurting your chances,” I said, and he laughed.
We straightened, still melded together. He looked down at me like he wanted to kiss me, but instead, he adjusted his hold and started leading me around the island. I threw my head back and laughed.
“Cowboy, are we two-stepping?”
“That we are.”
“I bet you pull this move with all the boys.”
His faded blue jean eyes glowed as they peered into mine. “Only you.” Touching his forehead to mine, he repeated, “Only you.”
Warmth and affection welled in my chest. Grinning to myself, I started humming the opening bars to “Here You Come Again,” knowing he’d recognize the Dolly classic.
His suntanned cheeks went red. “Now you’re just teasing me.”
“You deserve it.”
“That and much more.” He spun me in place. “I wouldn’t even complain if you decked me.”
I wrinkled my nose. “No violence, cowboy.”
His expression went serious. “Never any violence. Not with my hands, not with my words, not ever. It’s not how I operate.”
“Good answer.”
We held each other, continuing our simple two-step, our eyes locked onto each other. Watching Kit’s serious facing was like reading a book, so easy to see the affection, and the terror, and the bravery.
“I ain’t got no right, asking you to be patient with me, but I’m gonna ask anyway. I only ever felt this way once before.”
“And how do you feel?” I asked, loving the way he squared his shoulders as he considered my question.
“It’s like I’ve been struck by lightning and set on fire. Like someone’s asked me to live with my heart outside of my chest,” he said, poetry in his gruff voice. “All my careful plans seem real silly right now. But if you’re willing to be patient with a mess like me, I’m willing to try. I really am.”
“That’s all I ask, cowboy.”
Smiling, he brought his hand to my jaw, running his work-rough thumb over my smooth skin.
“Can I kiss you?”
His request, barely above a whisper, thundered in my chest.
“Yes.”
He went in without hesitation, pressing his warm lips to mine, soft, like a re-introduction. I opened my mouth a bit more to him, encouraging him, and he responded by pulling me back into a tight, secure hug as we deepened our kiss. Every ounce of insecurity and doubt fled at the certainty in the press of his lips. There was no hesitation in it. I let myself be held by him fully, welcoming his tongue, welcoming his hands as they first stroked up and down my back, then over the curve of my ass, pulling me against him like he wanted me inside his skin.
We kissed, and danced, and kissed some more, love songs playing out like a wedding march in my head.
Kit Baker wasn’t, nor had he ever been, a hook-up kind of guy. No wonder he was freaking out, because this felt like something approaching forever, like every terrible thing I felt after running into Rich had been flipped on its head.
Finally, we pulled away enough to catch our breath, to stare a little more into each other’s eyes. And that’s when I saw the wince he was trying to hide.
I pulled back a bit more. “Cowboy? How’s your knee doing?”
He thinned his lips, then answered, “I suppose this is where I’ve got to be honest with you, right?”
“Yes.”
“It hurts pretty good right now. But I can barely feel it, I promise you.”
I nodded, unwilling to fuss at him for telling me the truth. Instead, I asked, “You mind holding off on that steak?”
His eyebrows met in the middle. “Would you prefer something else?”
I waved away his concern. “No, I wanted to check in with you before I suggested moving this to the bedroom. And into a more horizontal position.”
“’Cause of my knee?”
“Uh, sure,” I responded, my hand going to the bulge trapped under starched denim.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Then I’d love to get horizontal with you.”
We walked, or, rather, Kit limped and I walked arm in arm to his beautiful, lofty bedroom. We undressed and he let me help him out of his boots with only a little grumbling. Down to our underwear, we climbed onto the bed, and met on our sides in the middle, as though even that brief separation was too much to bear.
The passionate kisses in the kitchen paled in comparison to our bedroom, nearly-naked kisses. Kit kissed me like he wanted for nothing else, just the press of our lips and bodies.
He tried to roll on top of me but went pale and flopped back.
“Fuck,” he cursed, reaching for his knee.
Pressing on his chest, I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.
“Better?”
He sucked in a few deep breaths and nodded. “I can’t get over how beautiful you are.”
“And I can’t get over how handsome you are.”
Leaning forward, I resumed kissing him, now with the added benefit of having our parts lined up. Careful of the pressure on his lower body, I rolled my hips, pressing our hard-ons together through the thin material.
Pushing off on his good knee, he thrust up as I thrust down, and the friction was so fucking perfect and delicious.
He cupped my ass, squeezing over the silky material. “As much as I like your pretty underwear,” he whispered, “I’d love to rip it off of you.”
“Go ahead, cowboy,” I rasped, turned on by the authority in his tone.
His rough fingertips found the delicate seams on one side. Fisting the slippery fabric with both hands, he rent the material like it was tissue paper. After repeating the move on the other side, he whipped the destroyed lingerie from my body. The sticky slide of my exposed cock against his soft cotton boxers was loud in the quiet room, and just as profane.
Even though I was still straddling him, technically in the superior position, his hands—his goddamn talented hands—went to my naked hips, directing my every move. I loved every second of it. His hungry kisses started with my jawline, then traveled down my neck, ravaging me as the sensations dribbled down into my chest and out to my limbs. My fingers and toes were tingling as his lips met the divot at the base of my neck.
He then kissed a line down my chest, not fussed by the bit of chest hair that’d grown back in. When his mouth landed on my nipple, he sucked gently while pumping his hips, more of that sticky, delicious slide against his monstrous, covered cock. I nearly gave into the orgasm that wanted out, but I needed more. So much more.
“You’re so sensitive,” he whispered to my collarbone. “So responsive.”
“And you know what the hell you’re doing, Kit. Are you sure you haven’t fucked a man before?”
He went bright red, sputtering at the accusation. “ No .”
I pressed my finger to his lips. “I was teasing you, cowboy. I know. What I mean to say is that here you are with one and a half-busted knees, and you’re more sensual than anyone I’ve ever been with.”
“Ain’t never kissed like this before in my life,” he confessed, his eyes a little shiny. “I didn’t know what I was missing.”
I kissed his precious eyelids. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll show you the world.”
His eyes crinkled with a smile wider than any I’d ever seen on his face. “Jesus, Sky. I want inside you,” he said, then his eyes widened. “Shit. I am probably way too ahead of myself.”
I put my hand over his mouth. “I’d love that.”
His chest rose and fell. “Yeah?” he asked, breathless against my palm.
I removed my hand from his mouth and slid my fingers into his hair. “Oh, hell yeah.”
His one arm shot out, and as he opened the drawer on his bedside table, I rolled my hips, giving him a little extra friction before leaning over and grabbing the condom and lube from their neatly organized bins. I laughed.
“What?” he asked, looking nervous.
“You’re so organized.”
“I have so much goin’ on that I have to organize everything or I get too anxious,” he admitted.
“That’s not a complaint, cowboy. I like it. I like it a lot.”
We kissed a bit more, then I let my mouth trail down his chest, sucking on his nipples, his belly button, finally nosing the line of hair between his belly button and cock.
“If you’re good, I’ll show you heaven tonight.”
“I’ll be a damn saint, then,” he promised, barely able to catch his breath.
I kissed him as I worked the condom down his length.
“I’m gonna take a few moments to prepare myself to take that thing,” I said, raising my brow at the beast between us.
His lips twitched. “Good idea.”
I loved seeing the confidence come back into his eyes, along with his smile, and I took a bit of lube and worked a finger into my hole. I made a show of it, knowing he’d appreciate it, then let my nails scratch down his chest as I added a second finger. I gave myself a bit more prep than I usually did, but by the time I was ready, we were both panting and needing it more than sanity. I let myself sink down, moaning as he breached the tight ring of muscle. His mouth fell open.
“Too much?”
He bit at his lower lip. “Keep going.”
I sank down even further, then rose up, loving the absolute ecstasy on his face. I went slowly, carefully working him inside of me without setting off either of us prematurely. It was a delicate balance, but his steady hands on my hips, and his burning gaze kept me focused. While I worked him over, I arched my back, played with my nipples, and had him begging for more. With his one decent knee, he thrust up as I sank down, and it was heaven.
“There’s a little bundle of nerves inside me, cowboy, and if you angle your cock . . . just . . . so . . .”
I choked off a cough, as he did exactly as I asked. Bingo . His eyes went to my erection, long and slim, and he ran a knuckle up the length of me, then tested my balls as I pumped up and down.
“Fuck, Sky. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t know how long I can hold out.”
“Me either, cowboy. You’ve got a big fat cock, and you sure do know how to use it.”
He flushed again, then focused on carefully thrusting his hips as I thrust down, both of us panting and needy. Inelegant, messy.
Finally, he punched his hips up, moaning even as he winced from the pain in his knee. He cursed through his orgasm, his wiry body a work of art beneath me. I gripped my cock, stroking it, and he wrapped his hands around mine, letting me show him how I pleasured myself. He was locked in, focused, mouth open when I arched above him. I aimed for my belly, not sure how he’d feel about getting any on him.
I needn’t have worried, as he ran his finger through the splashes of cum. Pulling the finger up, he examined it, then stuck it in his mouth. He blinked, then shook his head.
“Not your thing?” I asked, anxious.
“It’s not bad, actually. Not bad at all.”
His dazed expression told me he’d shocked even himself.
I was careful as I separated from him, then I helped him to the bathroom where he removed the condom, then wrung out a washcloth, cleaning off my belly before running it over himself. His knee was still obviously bothering him, but the loose set of his bones and his muscles made me proud.
“How does this feel?” I asked. “Here and here,” I asked, touching his chest and temple.
“I know you’re asking because I have been such a ninny about all this, but now that we’ve had sex together, I . . . I get it. I never was straight, was I?”
His eyes held all the wonder of a child seeing the ocean for the first time.
I lifted my shoulders. “Sexuality’s a spectrum, and it can change over time. Though it’s entirely possible you’ve always had a bit of unexplored queerness in you, just waiting to get out.”
He laughed and reached again for my face. “Then remind me to thank you for being my tour guide.”
We kissed, and he lent me one of his robes, worn and plaid, and comfortable.
“My robes are usually see-through, so this is actually kind of nice,” I said, wrapping myself up in the soft material.
“I’m gonna need to see more of those robes. And, if you don’t mind, I might, selfishly, hafta buy you a few things in some of my favorite colors.”
I put my hand on my chest, flashing my pretty nails at him. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
After kissing a bit more, and digging out the knee brace, we made our way to the kitchen again, where I drank wine while he made us a huge steak on the stovetop grill.
“It’s better outside on a wood fire, but I don’t want to get dressed for that,” he explained.
I suspected his knee also hurt more than he was letting on, so I guided us to the island bar, because I figured it’d be more comfortable than trying to sit at the table.
The steak he made—so perfectly—was the size of my head, so we ate from the same plate, sharing bites, sharing kisses, and swallows of wine. As kissing became touching, he was horrified to find that I was too sore for another go.
“Did I do it wrong?” he asked, worry marring his handsome features.
I was quick to explain that, given his size, I’d need a little recovery time.
“That mean I get to explore you with my mouth?” he asked as we slipped back into bed, nude.
“You wanna put your mouth on me, cowboy?”
“More than you could possibly know.”