Chapter 54
RIGGS
After I made my promise of no promises, Gemma gave me a relieved, grateful smile before she headed downstairs to get me a dry change of clothes and to hunt up more towels for the hallway.
By the time she got back, I was out of the tub, towel slung around my waist, and across the hall in her bedroom. It was slow going and I nearly took a header when my foot got hooked under the rim of the tub, but I managed to make it out without breaking my neck.
When she sees the tub is empty, Gemma stops outside the bathroom door and drops her stack of fresh towels.
Mouth open to call for me, she turns toward the front stairs and sees me sitting on the edge of her bed.
Relief washing over her face, she steps over the pile of towels at her feet and crosses the hall to stop in the doorway.
“I borrowed another one of your shirts,” she says, aiming a sheepish smile at the oversized, heather-gray T-shirt she’s wearing. “Glad I did, too—when I went out to the shed to pull the load of towels from the dryer, Mrs. Wilson was in her backyard.”
“Mmm…” I make a non-committal noise in the back of my throat because I don’t really give a shit about Mrs. Wilson or how scandalized she would’ve been to see Gemma running around outside in her bathrobe.
What I care about is the fact that Gem has completely shut me down and redefined what we are…
and the fact that she’s ready to accepted that this is all temporary is killing me.
“It’s okay—I like seeing you in my shirts.
Although, I can’t imagine seeing you in a strange man’s T-shirt and nothing else was much better than your bathrobe. ”
“She knows you’re living here,” she says, mouth quirking into a quick grimace. “The whole damn town knows. We’re quite the hot topic at the Stop-N-Shop.”
“I bet…” I say it around a laugh. “Surprised Clara Jean hasn’t written about it in the paper yet.”
“Clara Jean retired,” she informs me, still watching me from the doorway, her expression half wary, like she’s trying to decide what game I’m playing now.
We were arguing less than thirty minutes ago and she knows me better than anyone.
She knows I don’t give up easily—especially when I think I’m right.
“Her niece, Willa, took over for her a few years ago. She wrote a two page spread about you, though, right after your surgery. Used your old high school year book photo and a more recent one your mom gave her of you in uniform. ”
I make a rough, answering sound in the back of my throat because honestly, I don’t care one way or the other. Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “Where’s my cat?”
When I say it, Gemma shoots me a withering look that barely suppresses the smile struggling to break free. “Colt took her across the street. He left a note telling me he’d bring her back later.”
“Huh.” Shirtless Sheriff Colt playing wingman wasn’t something I saw coming. Not sure what to do with that, I aim a look around the room I’m in and change the subject again. “You’re in Dent’s old room.”
“When he came home from the hospital, stairs were out of the question.” Finally moving, she rushes forward, dry clothes held out between us. “At first we were sure he’d bounce back. It would take some time but that he’d recover.”
“But he didn’t.”
When I say it, she shakes her head, mouth quirked to the side to try to manage the emotions that talking about her grandfather stirs up.
“Still, I didn’t move in here until six months after his funeral…
” Looking around, she gives the room a brittle smile.
“He’d hate the fact that I painted his walls yellow.
” she tells me, setting the dry sweat pants and T-shirt beside me, on the bed.
“He wouldn’t…” Ignoring the clothes, I reach for her.. “He knew it’s your favorite color.”
Cocking her hip, she gives me a bemused sort of smile. “Yellow is not my favorite color.”
Pulling her close, I wrap my arms around the backs of her thighs “Liar.” Giving her a smile of my own, I shake my head.
“Soft yellow, to be exact. Like butter and early morning sunshine.” She told me that once.
Years ago, before all of this started. When it was still easy between us.
How easily the memory of it comes to me makes me question just how long I’ve been in love with her.
The answer is far longer than I realized. Probably my whole life.
When my arms close around her and pull her close, Gemma gives me a perplexed smile, her hand lifting to brace against my shoulder. “What are you doing, Riggs?”
“What you asked me to do,” I tell her with a shrug, running my hands up the backs of her thighs. “I’m enjoying the time we have left.”
“I’m not going to change my mind,” she tells me, brow folding in on itself because she thinks this is a ploy. That I’m trying to manipulate her into giving in. “I meant what I said. I?—”
Pushing my hands past the hem of her shirt, I slide my palms over the curve of her bare ass cheeks.
Looking at her, the corner of my mouth lifts.
“Imagine the scandal if Mrs. Wilson knew that while she was talking your ear off over the fence about her tomato plants, you were standing there, listening to her without any panties on… my cum between your thighs…” Fingertips skimming between her cheeks, I feel her nipples tighten against my chest beneath the worn cotton of her borrowed shirt.
“You think Clara Jean’s niece would write about that in the paper? ”
The feel of my rough hands coasting over her naked skin sends a shiver running through her while my filthy words spread a flush across her freckled cheeks. Breath hitching in her chest, Gemma licks the tip of her tongue along the curve of her lower lip, gaze locked on mine.
“Not unless she wanted to get banned from the Stop-N-Shop.”
Lips twitching at her reply, I lean into the space between us, my mouth pressed against her ear.
“I want to see it...” Shaping my hands around her hips, thumbs meeting at her lower stomach, I feather them across her bellybutton.
Skimming them even lower, I press my lips against the soft spot behind her ear before I whisper in it again.
“I want to see my cum smeared all over your pretty thighs.”
When I say it, her breath catches in her throat and her gaze drops to my mouth. “Riggs…”
Sliding my hand up the back of her thigh, I grip it and lift, setting her bare foot on the mattress next to me, the move pushing the hem of her shirt high enough to show me the shadowy cleft between her thighs.
“This is what you asked for, Gem,” I tell her, skimming my fingers along the inside of her thigh.
I can feel it, drying on her skin. “This is me, no longer treating you like a promise…” Nudging the hemline of her shirt even higher, I look down.
Her pussy is swollen, the seam of it spit wide by the press of my shoulder against the inside of her knee.
My cum, mixed with her arousal, glistening between her folds.
“This is me finally letting myself have what I want. No blame. No excuses. No guilt or regret.”
Shifting my grip, I graze my thumb along the curve of her slit, until I reach the top. Swirling my thumb against her clit, I feel her blunt tipped nails dig into the wide plank of my shoulders on a soft, desperate mewl.
Groaning deep in my chest, I lift my gaze to find hers aimed down at the place where I’m touching her.
Watching the way her hips roll and flex against the pressure of my hand.
The way my thumb slides and circles around her cum-slicked clit.
The way my stiff cock is straining against the towel, tied around my waist.
“So fucking wet…” Watching her face while I tease the rough pad of my thumb against her, it takes everything in me to not lift her up and slam her down the length of my shaft. “This tight pussy wants to come again, doesn’t it?”
Gemma looks up, soft hazel gaze aimed at me through her lashes. Lower lip trapped between her teeth, she nods, blush spreading across her dappled cheeks, even while her hips angle themselves against the brush and press of my thumb. “Yes.”
Fuck.
Pulling my hands away from her, I grip the hem of her T-shirt and jerk it over her head.
Tossing it aside, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her onto the bed with me as I let myself fall back against the mattress, Gemma sprawled on top of me.
Suddenly reclined, face-to-face, I don’t give her time to ask.
“Turn around,” I tell her, hands around her waist, already lifting her again.
“On your hands and knees—I want your greedy little pussy fucking my face, right fucking now.”
Flipped around before she knows what’s happening, Gemma lets out a startled gasp, aiming a wide-eyed look at me, over her shoulder. “Riggs?—”
Gripping her knees, I position them above my shoulders, on either side of my head, first one and then the other, until her cum covered pussy is hovering above my face, exactly where I want it.
“This is what you asked for...” I remind her, lifting my head off the mattress to run my tongue along the inside of her thigh, the taste of her cum and mine, mixed on her skin nearly enough to undo me.
“No promises. No guilt…” Angling my face between her thighs, I skim my tongue along the wet seam of her pussy, nearly coming all over myself when she tilts her hips into the pressure of it on a soft, shuddering moan.
“That’s it, Gem…” Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pull her even closer so I can taste her, licking my way between her slick, swollen folds.
She does it again, rocking back on her hands and knees, flexing and rolling her hips against my face with a needy little mewl.
“Fuuck… just like that.” I groan it against her, running my tongue up the center of her, nipping and sucking my way to her clit so I can swirl my tongue against it.
“I need you to rub and fuck this pretty little pussy of yours all over my face until I’m drowning in your cum,” I tell her, fingers digging into her ass cheeks, thumbs hooked between her thighs, so I can spread her open even wider. “Can you do that for me, Gem?”
“Yes…” It comes out on a desperate whimper that nearly kills me, right before Gemma drops her hips, burying my face in her wet, greedy pussy, shamelessly rolling and pumping her hips against the relentless pressure of my mouth.
Fuck.
Me.
Growling my approval, the sound of it vibrates against her core while I wrap an arm around her hips, holding her in place so she can slide and fuck her slick, cum-covered pussy all over my face, my cock jerking and straining uncontrollably with every pass.
Shit.
Reaching down with my free hand, I rip open the towel I have slung around my waist. Gripping the head of my engorged cock, hand instantly covered in pre-cum, I close my fist, giving my thick, swollen shaft a tight pump.
Squeezing myself so hard it almost hurts, I continue to lick and suck every inch of Gemma’s pussy that she gives me.
So close to coming I can feel the frantic clawing of it tearing at the base of my spine, I pump myself in my fist while Gemma works her pussy against my face, the roll of her hips going wild when she sees what I’m doing to myself.
“Riggs…” She moans my name, a moment before I feel the soft, wet suction of her mouth closing over the head of my cock.
Fuuuck…
Groaning deep in my chest, hand fisted around the base of my shaft, I keep stoking while she works the head of my cock against the back of her throat.
Pulling her even closer, I latch my mouth around Gemma’s pussy.
Sucking her clit, I give her deep, greedy pulls, every whimper and sob she gives me, vibrating down the length of my cock, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
until she’s screaming my name and the sweet salty taste of her is flooding the back of my throat, moments before I’m coming, my cock jerking and spasming against the tight suction of her mouth.