Chapter Eighteen #2
“Your ex-boyfriend was an asshole.”
“I mean, maybe I wasn’t as careful as—”
“Knowing you, you stressed about it for three weeks first. So I’m sure you were careful enough. Some people just don’t like hearing the truth. But saying it was a sign of how much you care.”
“Yeah, I mean, it sucks no matter what, but it sucks more when you don’t know what’s wrong with you. At least when you know, there are some tools you can learn that will help you cope.”
“Maybe you can teach me some,” I said, reaching for her hips and pulling her until she was straddling me.
“I’d like that,” she agreed, then let out a little sigh as I leaned in and kissed her neck.
“Later,” I said against her skin.
“Yes, later.”
Her head angled to the side, inviting more. And I was happy to give it to her.
The storage unit had been amazing. Impulsive, overwhelming. But I hadn’t had as much of a chance to explore as I wanted. And I’d needed to keep Caitlin from being too loud.
I wanted a chance to take our time and for her to be as enthusiastic as she wanted to be.
Caitlin’s head tipped to the other side, allowing me to kiss up her neck to her ear, down her jaw, then sealing my lips to hers.
I swallowed her little moan as my hips dragged her higher on my lap, letting her feel the press of my cock against her.
Her lips grew eager as her hands moved to frame my face, but she grumbled when the cast got in her way, resting it on my shoulder instead.
Her hips grew restless, rocking against me as my hands slid down her back, getting to know the slope of her spine, the flare of her hips, the roundness of her ass.
I gathered the material of her shirt, pulling it up, then waiting for her to raise her arms so I could free the tee from her.
A little shiver racked her system as I tossed the shirt to the side. She was left in a yellow bra that matched the panties I’d peeled off of her in the storage unit.
“What’s this from?” I asked, leaning forward to press a kiss to a scar on her shoulder.
“Fell off a bike onto a brick flowerbed border. I still can’t ride a bike. Which sucks now that the electric ones are all over.”
“Because you’re traumatized or—”
“Because I have really bad balance and fall off anytime I try.”
I kissed across her collarbone, then down between her breasts.
Reaching behind her, I unclasped her bra and pulled the material free.
A gasp escaped her when I leaned in and sucked her nipple into my mouth.
She arched backward, her hips rocking harder as I circled with my tongue, sucked, scraped, nipped. Then I moved across her chest to continue.
“Gav…” she whimpered, voice needy as she ground down on my cock.
“Are you going to ride me?” I asked.
“Yes,” she moaned, lifting up so I could slide her panties down. She shifted to free the material as I dug in my pocket for my wallet to fetch a condom.
By the time she reached to free my cock, I had the wrapper open and slid on the protection.
“Come here,” I demanded, holding my cock at the base. “Show me how you want to be fucked.”
A little sound escaped her at that as she lifted up, then lowered down. A gasp escaped her as she took me in inch by inch. Then a whole-body shiver moved through her once I was in deep.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to focus, to hold onto my self-control. She wasn’t making it easy with that heavy-lidded, parted-lip look she was giving me.
Her hips wiggled, and her walls tightened around me as she tried to decide what felt best.
Once she found it, she rocked toward my body and up, letting out a gasp that made my cock twitch.
“There you go,” I said, hands on her hips as she found the rhythm and stuck with it, her breath fast, her cheeks flushed.
Her head fell back as her little sounds grew louder and louder, as she was driven closer to the brink.
“That’s it,” I groaned as she tightened around me, then clenched hard as she came.
She buried her face in my neck afterward, breathing hard.
“Not done with you yet.”
I grabbed her behind the knees, holding her against me as I got off the couch, then carried her with me out of the living room and down the hall.
But the friction of her moving as we walked nearly undid me, making me turn and slam her against the wall, fucking her fast as her cries filled the apartment, as her fingers dug into my shoulder.
“Gav,” she called out as another orgasm spread through her, making her legs shake.
I could have come with her right then, but I managed to hold myself back and carry her the rest of the way to the bed, lowering her down, then yanking her legs up to my shoulders and starting to fuck her again.
Her wild, almost pained moans told me she was reaching her max as one of my hands moved down, slipping between her thighs, and working her clit as she arched and clutched the sheets.
“Fuck,” I groaned as a gasp escaped her and her walls tightened around me again, this time taking me with her, my vision going blurry and my legs feeling weak.
With her legs still on my shoulders, I dropped my knees to the mattress, trying to catch my breath and slow my heart.
When my vision was clear again and I looked down at her, I found her flushed and soft. It was the most relaxed I’d ever seen her.
Maybe I just found a new way to help her through one of her anxiety spells and panic attacks.
“How about I draw you that bath?” I said, slowly moving away from her.
“Only if you’re willing to carry me to it. I don’t have any bones anymore.”
“Deal,” I said, kissing her ankle before releasing her legs.
They fell numbly down, angling out at her side. She didn’t even try to cover herself. I liked that more than I thought I would.
I made my way into the en suite, cleaned up, scrubbed the tub that I hadn’t ever used, then ran the water.
I didn’t have any fancy soap or bath bombs or shit like that.
But a tiny bit of shampoo did the trick to create bubbles, and I had a bag of scented Epsom salts from an old gym injury a while back.
Satisfied that the water smelled and looked good—and that the water was boil-your-balls hot—I made my way back out into my bedroom and scooped my arms under Caitlin.
“I was joking about the carrying me thing!” she squealed, flailing wildly as I lifted her into my arms.
“I wasn’t.”
I let her dip her toe, testing the heat, then lowered her into it.
I felt like the water blistered my arms.
Caitlin groaned as she sank in.
“Can I trust you to keep your cast dry?”
She shot me a scrunched look.
“I’m over it. I want it off. Or a 3D-printed one.”
“I know someone we can see about that.”
A cute little laugh escaped her at that.
“What’s funny?”
“You just sound exactly like a mafia guy when you say things like that. I know a guy,” she said, dropping her voice low.
I snorted at that.
“Forgetaboutit.”
That might have even gotten a little laugh.
“Watch it or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes.”
That one definitely got a laugh. But more because of the mock-serious face she put on.
“Your mob references are a little dated, babe.”
“Well, luckily for me, I happen to have a teacher with lots of real-life experience to educate me.”
“That you do,” I said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips.
And she did.
Have me.
Even though I had no idea what that meant.