Chapter 17 #2
“No,” she denies, her breath warm against my throat. “I was so scared when I came downstairs my first morning here, and I kept telling myself that I would take the first opportunity to leave.”
My arms instinctively tighten around her as if to keep her here. “And then?”
“Then you were there, offering to make me pancakes, and you looked so worried that I might not like pancake mix from a box.”
“Baby,” I tell her gently, “I have tasted the pies you make, and Wyatt told me you were the one responsible for the new pies flying out of Nico’s Diner. I was fucking terrified.”
Her body shakes, though her laughter is silent. I’m getting ready to apologize for inflicting my cooking on her when she brushes a kiss across my jaw.
When I look at her face, she’s no longer laughing; her expression is a mix of sadness and a softness that makes my heart squeeze.
“They were the best pancakes I’ve ever had.
” I’m denying it when she adds, “My grandma used to say the most important thing about baking is you have to love it or the person you’re baking for, or it won’t have the special something it needs. ”
“Your grandma sounds wise.”
She nods and tucks her face against my throat.
“She was. After my parents died, she looked after my sister and me, and I loved to bake with her. I’d always done it when I was little, when my grandma would watch Missy and me when they had to work late.
They’d get home, and I’d be hopping up and down with the pie I’d baked, covered with flour but desperate to show it to my parents.
” She snorts. “It was a miracle I didn’t trip over my feet and pie myself in the face. ”
Imagining a little blonde-haired girl with flour-dusted pigtails, proudly showing off her homemade creation, I smile. “Sounds like you had a blast.”
“I did,” she says, her voice soft with happiness.
Then she sighs, and I lose my smile because that was not a happy sound.
“My parents died in a car crash when I was thirteen, and I baked to take my mind off the pain,” she continues, and I hug her tighter, feeling her anguish.
“I was so lost then. I couldn’t focus long enough to read recipes, but I needed to keep my hands busy or I would go insane.
Gramma taught me how pie dough was supposed to feel and how to balance sweet and salty in a filling without relying on any recipe.
And then she died a year later, and I was lost again. ”
I bury a kiss in her hair, wishing I could take away her pain and replace it with a smile instead. She lost so much, so young, and even as she got older, she lost her ability to feel safe with a man she loved. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Everyone dies.”
My heart breaks for her. I roll her onto her back so I can look into her eyes. “Yes, but you shouldn’t lose so many people you love so young. It isn’t fair. I have my parents and all my siblings and you… it’s not fair that you suffered so much.”
Smiling faintly, she lifts her hand to my face, her fingers gliding along my jaw. “Are you always this sweet with women, Elias Gallo?”
I catch her wrist and press a kiss at the center of her palm. Her breath hitches. Then I move her hand back to my face, not ready for her to stop touching me yet. “Just with you.”
Our stares lengthen, and tension crackles between us. I lick my lips, her eyes tracking the motion. My belly squeezes, and I clear my throat.
“You want me to turn out the light so we can sleep?” I ask, my voice husky.
“Not yet,” she whispers, her fingers caressing my jaw.
I swallow. “If I were to kiss you. Would you…”
She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have a problem if you wanted to kiss me, Elias. I spend more time than I should wanting to kiss you.”
My shoulders relax as I dip my head, pressing a kiss on the tip of her nose, which makes her smile, and another at the corner of her mouth, which makes her sigh.
I angle my head, line up our mouths, and capture hers with my own.
Slow, I order myself. She’s not ready for the sort of kiss you want to give her. Go slow.
Our lips meet, and I lose myself in the taste of Maisie’s lips.
Time falls away. My tongue tangles with hers, exploring the inside of her mouth as she runs her hands up and down my back. I take pleasure in taking my time.
She slides her legs around me, my body sinking onto hers. We both groan. Her breasts mashing against my chest feels fucking incredible.
The kiss turns heated. Deeper, longer, and she writhes against me.
This isn’t where I thought this kiss would go. I’m weak. Maisie deserves a better man who would give her more time to recover from her ex. I’m not that man. I have the woman I’ve always wanted arching up to me… wanting me. I can’t end this now.
Breaking the kiss, I roll her, sweep her t-shirt up over her head and toss it to the floor before I reclaim her lips as I roll her onto her back.
When she’s beneath me again, I stop to appreciate just how pretty she is. She’s petite, but her breasts are a generous handful, gently rounded, the tips rosy. Her belly is curved, and…
Damn.
My cock jerks.
The scrap of lace between her thighs could barely be called panties. High waist with thin straps, the tiny triangle front reveals more than it conceals. Which means this is a thong. If I slid my hands over her ass or rolled her onto her front, her cheeks would be exposed.
I have a vivid image of putting her on her knees, shoving her panties aside, and slamming myself home.
“Were you wearing these panties downstairs?” My voice is so hoarse, it would be a miracle if she could understand me.
I’m in a fight to control myself. And I’m losing. Badly.
If she’d been wearing them as she sat beside me on the couch, I’m going to lose it. My hands shake with the need to rip these panties off her, but not before I’ve kissed her pussy through them.
She clears her throat, a rosy pink glow sweeping over her face and body. “I usually wear cotton, but the women who donated stuff… well, I think the boutique owner decided she had to donate me new lingerie.”
I will buy the boutique owner a present for her birthday, Christmas, and Easter every year without fail.
My fingers brush the front of her panties and, through the thin material, I feel the heat of her pussy. I groan. “That’s not lingerie, baby. This is clothing designed to blow a man’s mind.”
Needing to taste, I move down her body, nuzzling my face against her tits, tasting them and groaning when she buries her hands in my hair with a soft sigh.
I trail kisses downward, shoving the sheets away so I can see every inch of her beautiful body. Then I reach her panties. If I’d known she was wearing this downstairs, I wouldn’t have had a coherent thought with her sitting beside me.
I kiss her through the thin lace, breathing in her scent. It's lush, sweet, and deeply arousing. Wild honey and spice. Ripe. Her panties are slightly damp when I nuzzle my face against her, and she moans. Were my kisses the reason she’s this wet?
I press a kiss against her pussy, getting harder by the second.
My cock is so hard it’s painful, but I take my time hooking my fingers over the waistband and sliding the material down her legs. My dick twitches as I reveal her pussy, and I lick my lips.
I lift her left leg, kiss the inside of her thigh, and nudge her legs wider apart, making space for myself.
She releases a breathy moan at my soft kiss, her fingers tightening in my hair. Wanting to feast, I lap between her thighs, kissing, licking, drawing her clit into my mouth, and gently sucking.
She whimpers under me, her breathing growing louder. I slide one finger into her wetness, and she arches up off the bed with my name on her lips. I pump, one finger then two, curling and hooking both inside her as I suck her clit, increasing the pressure.
Her hands pull desperately at my hair. She releases a strangled moan as she climaxes, her pussy rippling around my fingers. I ease her down, slide back up the bed, and gather her in my arms, holding her as her breathing steadies.
My cock is throbbing as I keep it away from her body. One brush. One accidental touch and I’ll fall. I’m that close to the edge.
She tilts her head, her lips finding mine. This kiss is slow and sweet, self-indulgent.
I break the kiss to peer down at her. “Sleep?”
What I mean is, does she want more, or is this more than enough for her? I’m too chicken shit to ask her, terrified she'll tell me she doesn’t want me.
She peers up at me, her eyes soft and sated. “I need you inside me, Elias.”
With a groan, I reclaim her lips in a hungry kiss. As I wrestle my shorts off and toss them aside, my hands shake.
I almost come the moment she winds her legs around me and the blunt head of my cock settles between her thighs, nudging her opening.
Fuck.
Breaking the kiss, I press my mouth to her shoulder, my body shaking as I fight not to thrust.
“I don’t know that I can go slow, baby,” I warn her, breathing hard. “I need you too much.”
She winds her arms around me. “Then don’t go slow. Take what you need. It’s yours.”
“Talk like that is not helping, beautiful,” I gasp, almost laughing, but I’m too turned on to be amused about anything. Too desperate for Maisie, my brain's barely functioning.
My cock slowly pushing inside of her is the sweetest ache. She whimpers. Her muscles ripple as I feel them stretch around me, her body fighting to accept my thick girth. But she lets me in so sweetly, her pussy tight and hot. So damned perfect.
Sweat breaks out all over my body.
I’m braced over her, one hand beside her head and the other on her left hip, holding her. With each inch I gain inside her, her lips part, her eyes flutter closed, and she tips her head back as she hooks her ankles behind my thighs.
“That feels so good,” she moans.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
Too fucking good for this to last as long as I want it to.
I thrust slowly, gaining another inch, retreat, and thrust again.
She shifts under me, rolling her hips and taking my last inch into her body.
For a single, perfect second, I don't move.
With my eyes shut and teeth gritted, all I do is feel. Every inch of my cock is nestled in her wet heat. Her body clasps me, holding me, squeezing and fighting me when I pull back out again.
My muscles tremble, and sweat coats my skin when something inside me snaps.
Pulling out almost completely, I bury myself inside her with a meaty slap. She’s so slick around me that there’s barely any friction. Just pleasure. We both groan, and her nails cut into my back.
Our kiss is hungry. Desperate. Our bodies work together. It’s hard and fast and desperate.
Every thought in my head is centered between my legs. I slide in and out of her body, groaning loudly, feeling her slick heat around me as a roar starts up in my head.
She bucks, her pussy clenching around me, pushing me into my climax.
With a grunt, I slam into her. Once. Twice. As my cock jerks inside her, I feel my muscle at the base of my dick swell. She releases a desperate, strangled moan as my knot starts stretching her. She widens her eyes, nails digging into my back.
I think I’m hurting her at first.
Then I feel her pussy rippling and groan in response. Her body squeezes and tightens. Her eyes roll back into her head, hips straining against me as she climaxes again.
She slumps against the bed, panting, and I collapse over her, careful not to crush her as my cock continues jerking inside her, filling her with my cum.
With my knot locked inside her, I turn her and pull the sheets over us both so she won’t get cold. Then I reach over to switch off the lamp before I gather her tight against my chest. Throughout, she’s quiet, her breathing as unsteady as mine as we come down from our release.
“Maisie?”
Her eyelashes tickle my cheek, and she wraps her arms around me, releasing a soft sigh. “That was nice.”
It’s a good thing I turned the light out. My smile feels stupid. If anyone saw it, they’d tell me I was an idiot. “Yeah. It was. My knot didn’t hurt you?”
Knotting is an intimacy I’ve never had with another omega before, and only an omega can take an alpha’s knot.
I knew it could increase pleasure, but making her come twice so soon is not what I’d expected.
I still feel her muscles stretched tight around my knot.
It felt so damn good, there’s no way we do this just once tonight.
Her cheek brushes my neck, and her face feels hot. Is she blushing?
“No. It was very, very nice.”
I chuckle, hugging her. I’ll stay inside her for the next several minutes as I slowly soften around her. She sounds tired though; she’ll likely be asleep by then.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I thought the ax would be bigger.”
I blink down at her, though I can’t see much of her face with the room this dark. “Huh?”
“The ax, from the game. I thought it would be bigger. Is it weird that I want to talk about zombies now?”
I nearly tell her I love her; that’s how many big happy feelings are squeezing my heart. “Not at all. You don’t want to go for the ax first. Save it for the end of a level. Have you noticed the way it slowly drains your energy when you wield it?”
We pass nearly two hours talking about zombies and strategy, then somehow move on to our parents, our childhood, and anything else that comes to mind.
Those are not two constant hours of conversation. One kiss leads to me rolling her onto her back and forgetting about everything except making her moan for the next several minutes.
We fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms, and there’s nowhere else I would want to be.
This, right here, is heaven.