CHAPTER 9
GEMMA
“I really think using this dry-hopping technique is the way to go,” Keaton’s voice is filled with excitement.
I glance over at him and can’t help but smile at the eager expression on his face. He’s grown into himself over the years. While he used to hide his intelligence behind sports and friends, he’s learned to embrace it. Maybe he can’t hide it as well as he used to, being a science teacher and all.
From the way he’s helped me get to this point—where we can finally do the secondary conditioning—has proven to me just how good of a teacher he is.
He’s never once made me feel stupid or like I’m too slow in my understanding of what he’s saying.
I haven’t felt rushed and he listens every time I talk.
When I’m around him, I feel lighter. And we’ve been spending a lot of time together.
It feels like we’re making up for lost time—for all the time we spent circling each other, orbiting, without touching and barely knowing each other.
A lot of the time we’ve spent together was talking about brewing. We went over my goals and our options on how to infuse cannabis into the brew. Then we dissected the different flavors and scent notes of different strains as well as figuring out the concentration we were going for.
There was a lot of number crunching, and I didn’t understand some of the things he had latched onto as important through his own research at first. We found somewhere to meet in the middle—between my goals, the science of it all, and the practicality of what we can achieve.
But the time we’ve spent together hasn’t only been filled with my quest for the perfect GMH brew.
We’ve talked, really talked, for the first time in years. Now I know all sides of the man. The nerd. The teacher. The lover. The friend. The dreamer.
The man.
He’s enthralled by wonder and figuring out the things that feel as if they are without explanation. It’s the scientist in him and his fascination is infectious. Seeing the world through his eyes has felt like a revelation.
We’ve watched movies together, laughed, and snuggled. And the man can really snuggle.
I love being wrapped in his arms. They’re strong and sure. He makes me feel like nothing can touch me. It’s a feeling I savor and hold close to me.
The only problem is that underneath all the time we’ve spent getting to know each other, all the laughter we’ve shared, and all the help he’s given me, is something unspoken. Gary.
He’s what we don’t talk about. We don’t talk about memories of him. We don’t talk about how he’s going to react when he finds out about us. We don’t talk about the fear that wraps around both of us because we know it’s an eventuality.
There’s no way we’ll be able to avoid the reality of my brother forever.
The sound of the oven beeping to let us know it’s preheated pulls me out of my thoughts of Gary and everything Keaton and I have shared since we stopped denying this thing between us.
“I can’t believe I’m decarboxylating cannabis flower right now,” Keaton’s voice is a mix of disbelief and incredulity that sounds more like a grumble.
I can hear the amusement underneath the words, though. When I glance over at him, one corner of his mouth is tipped up. I don’t say anything, but I do raise an eyebrow in challenge when he looks over at me.
“I’m pretty sure if my students could see me now that they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it,” he jokes.
I can’t help but chuckle and sass him, “How scandalous of you.”
He shakes his head while picking up the baking tray we’ve already prepared. Keaton looks up something on his phone and gives a little nod confirming what he already knew.
“Now we just put it in for 30 minutes before we check to see what color it is. It might need to stay in for a little while longer,” he tells me what we’ve already talked about.
He pauses and then laughs when he sees the deadpan look on my face. “We’ve been over this part quite a few times and this is the step I’m least worried about,” I tell him with the same tone.
His laughter fills my small kitchen. “I just never thought I’d be doing this, not for this reason or any other. If I mess it up, you definitely won’t be getting the result you want.”
The earnestness in his voice makes my heart clench. The fact that he doesn’t want to be the reason why this next experiment fails makes me confident in a way I wasn’t expecting.
Without thinking about it, I lean closer to him and kiss his cheek. He pushes his fingers through his hair which gives me a glimpse of the tops of his red ears. I’m not sure if his cheeks are pink too since his beard serves as a shield.
The thought of him blushing because of me sends a thrill down my spine. It shouldn’t, but it does.
After he closes the oven door, he leans against the kitchen counter. I step closer to him and look up at him from under my lashes. My voice is coy, “What do you think we should do while we’re waiting?”
He looks around, his eyebrows pulling together, while he shakes his head slowly. “I’m not sure. We know the concentration we’re going for. We’ve already talked about ratios and what to do for this step.”
I almost laugh at how adorable and serious he is right now. He thinks I’m talking about what we should do to help the home brew along.
I’ll be honest—beer is the last thing on my mind right now.
My thighs clench and my nipples pebble while I take a step closer to him. I reach up and grip his shoulders before tipping up toward him while pulling him down to me. When our lips meet, he slides his arm around my waist and yanks me flush against his chest.
I moan into his mouth, and he swallows down the sound. When his lips curve into a smile, my heart flutters in my chest.
“We don’t have nearly enough time for me to fuck you properly,” he grunts like time is an affront to his needs and plans.
I giggle and press kisses down his neck. “I’ll take a raincheck for now,” I murmur while lowering myself to my knees.
He blinks down at me and even though he tries to hide it I can see the eagerness in his eyes. “What are you doing?”
While biting my lip I reach for his shorts, tugging them down over his hips and letting them slip to the floor. “I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing, Keaton,” I tease him.
The growl that comes out of him has me squirming slightly and squeezing my thighs together. I barely stop myself from humping the air, but I manage it. Barely.
I tug his boxer briefs down and his cock springs free. My mouth starts watering as my eyes lock onto the throbbing veins decorating his length and the way he seems to grow even harder under my stare. After wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock, I lick my lips.
“Fuck,” he groans, his head tipping back. “I don’t know if I can survive watching you suck my cock.”
I press my lips to the tip; the touch is barely there but his entire body still shudders. After pulling back slightly, I wrap my tongue around the crown of his cock. I collect the pre-cum there and can’t help the moan that slips from my lips.
His head snaps down and his eyes almost bug out of his head. That’s the moment I wrap my lips around him and take him into my mouth. He grunts as his hips jerk like he wants to fuck my face but holds himself back.
My fingers tighten around him, and he breathes out through his nose, the sound heavy and on the edge of feral. I bob my head up and down his length, going slowly while relaxing my jaw as much as I can. When my hand starts to move in time with my mouth, his entire body tenses.
If my mouth weren’t so full, I would be smiling right now. The feeling I get while getting his control to fray is a rush. It makes me feel powerful.
I fucking love it.
As my movements speed up, his fingers dive into my hair. The strands tangle while he grips them, and the slight sting goes straight to my clit.
“Gemma,” he hisses my name, his jaw clenched while his whiskey-colored eyes are locked on where my lips stretch around his length. “You’re fucking killing me.”
He must see the sparkle in my eyes because one side of his mouth tips up in a wicked smirk. I take him a little deeper and swallow around the tip. That smirk slides off his face instantly and possessive heat fills his gaze while his lips part and he starts panting.
Just as I slide back up his shaft with a slurp, his eyes dart to the timer as if wanting to make sure we have enough time. He startles when I reach for his balls with my other hand. I roll them around my palm gently and his thighs clench.
His fingers tighten in my hair, and I moan around him while sliding him just a little deeper.
“Gemma,” he growls, the warning clear in his voice.
I’m not sure if he’s warning me that he’s about to come or that I’m in danger. Either way, I’m good with it.
I don’t stop.
I don’t slow down.
I move faster, chasing the need I see blazing in his eyes. Because I feel the same fire in my belly.
The need to please him.
The need to watch him fall apart.
The need to catch him.
His balls tighten in my palm, and I give a gentle tug which has Keaton punching his hips forward. The cords of his neck are strained, and I can see how hard he’s clenching his jaw.
Poor guy.
He’s still holding back.
As I slide up his cock the next time, I let my teeth scrape just slightly. Barely. Not enough to hurt, enough to shock.
And it does.
Keaton’s eyes turn molten and the last of his control snaps. He starts fucking my face, not hard but enough to make it hot as hell. Spit spills over my bottom lip and down over my chin.
As tears slide over my cheeks, it mixes with my saliva. Keaton lets go of my hair with one of his hands, his fingers sliding along the wetness on my chin and neck.
“Beautiful mess,” he groans. “So pretty for me.”
I pull off him, my jaw aching. My tongue runs along the rim of his cock’s crown and then along the veins throbbing with every one of his heartbeats. His lip curls up as he snarls, his eyes begging for me to swallow him down again.
After a few good breaths of air, I wrap my lips around him again.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses.
This time, he has no control to snap. He takes over again, his movements deep but precise. I’m not even a little bit worried about him taking it too far or hurting me.
I give myself over to him, trusting him completely. Just when the ache in my jaw is almost too much, he grunts, “Are you going to swallow everything I have for you?”
Unable to answer, I squeeze the base of his cock.
His movements become sloppy before he grunts while I suck the head of his cock and he fills my mouth.
I stroke his length with my hand, wanting every drop.
When he wraps his hand around my fingers and slows my movements I almost melt into a puddle right there on the floor.
His breathing is ragged as he stares down at me like he’s not sure if I’m real or an apparition. He doesn’t look away while I start to pull his softening cock from my mouth and swallow. Loudly.
Keaton drags his thumb along my bottom lip before pushing it inside. My jaw falls open, his eyes satisfied and lazy. He lets out a grunt when he sees my empty mouth.
After hauling me up against his chest, he buries his face in the crook of my neck. “When I can feel my legs again, I’m returning the favor,” he murmurs against my skin.
My laughter is breathy while shaking my head slightly. “That was for you. My thanks, if you will,” I tease him.
“Thanks for what?” The question comes out as a rumble.
“Helping me?” It comes out more like a question than an answer and I wince slightly.
“I feel really good about this step, more than I have before. You’ve helped me understand what I’m really doing instead of just blindly trying this or that.
I needed that kind of help; I was totally out of my depth. ”
“My Gem,” he says his nickname for me like I’m a treasure.
He does it so effortlessly that it takes my breath away. No one else has ever made me feel that way. Loved? Sure.
A treasure? Only him.
“I think you should have a tasting, no matter what the results are,” his words are gentle, like he’s coaxing me.
My eyebrows pull together while I look up at him, shocked. My voice is incredulous, “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you hide this away like it’s shameful. It’s not and you spend a lot of time doing it. Let your friends and family support you,” he urges me.
I narrow my eyes, but he’s not going to let this go. Even though I do feel better about our approach, and all the reasons behind it, nervousness still zips under my skin and flips my stomach.
“I’ll think about it.” It’s the most I can give him.
His face lights up and he kisses my forehead. Damn it. Does he know forehead kisses make me weak?
He probably does. Now, I just need to decide about the tasting. Am I ready for it?