Chapter 39
Ted-Vomit-Green
Vince
"This isn't the way to your house..." Andy points out, glancing out of the dusty, beige passenger-side window of the Land Rover.
"Yeah, it is."
I insist on driving his car, now loaded to the brim with his stuff, while Malia drives Tina back in the Porsche. I tell Andy it's to give his hand a break... but that isn't entirely true. This is the beginning of my surprise. And I am so fucking nervous.
Suddenly, at one of the red lights, the car stalls.
Panic shoots through me as I try to shift the gear, but it feels stuck.
My heart is in my throat.
For a second, I think we're about to end up in cross traffic. Just as I'm about to tell Andy we're screwed, the car jolts back to life, lurching forward as the light turns green.
"Holy shit!" I shout, gripping the steering wheel like it might bolt. "What the fuck just happened?"
Andy laughs, like we haven't just narrowly avoided disaster. "Yeah, it does that sometimes when it's shifting down to first gear. I usually keep it in second... it always wants to go back into second."
"Andy—fuck! You've been driving a death trap this whole time, and you didn't think to tell me?!"
He rolls his eyes. "It's fine, Vince. It's not going to kill me."
"I cannot believe—"
"Where are we going?" he cuts in, leaning forward to glance out the windows, clearly trying to change the subject.
"Hush. You'll see."
As I drive closer to the destination, he starts to piece it together, but he stays quiet.
I'm not sure if he remembers the exact spot.
.. he's only been here once, to help me paint.
My nerves twist tighter with every second.
When I finally pull into the driveway of my beach house, I park, take a deep breath, and turn to face him.
"What are we doing here?" he asks, his tone cautious but curious.
"I wanted to ask you..." I begin, my chest tight. "I wanted to give you an option."
He frowns slightly, tilting his head. "What do you mean?"
"Do you want to move in with me... here? Or do you want to move in with me on Mulholland?"
His brows furrow as he studies my face, trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I reach over and grab his hand, stroking his palm with my thumb to steady both of us.
"Andy, it's completely up to you. I just thought... I don't know... I thought maybe you'd like this better. I know the big house weirded you out while I was in New York. This house is smaller. It's cozy. It's on the beach. It's older, charming, and... its bedrooms are painted Ted-vomit-green."
He lets out a laugh, and I laugh with him, feeling some of my tension melt away.
The look in his eyes makes my heart pound for an entirely different reason now.
He brings my hand to his lips, kissing it a few times before resting it back in his lap.
I rub my thumb against his palm again, savoring the moment.
But then he does something I don't expect... he brings his hands to his face and starts crying.
"Andy, what's wrong?" I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over, cupping his face in my hands.
"I love you," he mumbles through the tears.
I laugh, relief flooding me. "That's what's wrong?" I kiss his forehead a few times, unable to stop smiling.
"Yeah," he laughs too, wiping tears on his sleeve. "How do you know I'll like this more? How do you—"
"Andy, you dimwit, you're my best friend. What the hell are you talking about?"
He throws his arms around my shoulders, laughing as he kisses the side of my face. "This one. I pick this one."
I smile, brushing the hair from his eyes. "I have one more surprise for you, but you'll have to wait."
This is the one I've been most nervous about.
"Hey..." he says, looking around. "Where the hell are the guys? Where's all my furniture?"
"I told them to wait for my text. They're parked at the other house. Nothing's unloaded yet."
His eyes narrow. "Malia and Tina aren't here either."
"I told them to wait on a text from me, too."
"Why?"
"Because there's a second part to my surprise."
The way Andy looks at me then, so damn intense, sends my pulse skyrocketing.
His gaze feels like fire, and I can tell he thinks the second part of the surprise is... well... in my pants.
God, I love this man.
It isn't. But I won't correct him.
If Andy wants a surprise in my pants, then by all means, that's exactly what he's going to get.
I climb out of the car, feeling him follow close behind. Before I can even get the front door halfway open, his hands are already on me, unbuttoning my jeans with a mischievous determination.
"Shit, Andy—"
"I want to see your big surprise," he whispers into my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Oh, God.
My heart thundering in my chest, my breath hitching, I manage to kick the door closed behind us.
"Wait— I have to send off some texts real quick, baby, about the surprise—"
"No, you don't."
He grabs my phone, tossing it onto the couch like it offended him, and continues working me out of my pants with impressive speed.
"Okay."
I can text them later.
Andy pushes me toward the guest bedroom with a grin, and in my haste, I trip over my own pants, landing flat on the floor like the uncoordinated dork he knows I am.
And he laughs.
There's so much love in his piercing blue eyes as he crouches over me, his hands framing my face like I'm the most precious thing in the world.
"Get your shit together and come give me my big surprise, you dork," he teases, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He stands, yanks off his shirt, and tosses it directly onto my face before heading to the bed. I hear the soft thud of his pants hitting the floor, followed by his boxers.
I'm still tangled in my own clothes, cursing myself as I struggle free and climb onto the bed to join him.
I go straight for his neck, noticing the faint purple marks I've already left behind, like secret constellations mapping our passion.
Does he really need more? Probably not. My teeth graze his skin just below his jawline, earning a soft gasp that vibrates through his entire body.
But what's one, or three, more? I suck gently, then bite down just enough to leave another memory of this moment.
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as if he can't get enough.
I trail down to his collarbone, leaving my mark again, small red blossoms that will fade but never disappear from our shared history, before he reverses our positions with a strength that always surprises me, taking control.
Andy straddles my hips, pinning me to the bed as his lips find my shoulder, the contact sending electric currents through my veins. Every touch from him feels like fire... intense, consuming, and utterly perfect. His weight on me is grounding yet intoxicating.
Then he slides down, his blue eyes locked on mine, and I can tell he's about to make me lose my goddamn mind. The way he looks at me—half-lidded, pupils blown wide with desire—makes my breath catch in my throat. He's not just looking at me; he's seeing me, all of me, and wanting all of it.
I love how Andy makes love to me.
It's never just physical; it's an emotional conversation we have without words, a silent understanding that passes between us in every touch, every kiss, every shared breath.
He knows exactly where to touch me, how to move, when to slow down and when to speed up, as if my body is an instrument only he knows how to play. And God, does he play it well.
It isn't just physical, it's everything. He always wants me to feel good, to know how much he cares. Pleasuring me turns him on, and the connection we share in those moments leaves me breathless.
When he takes me into his mouth, his eyes never leave mine. The heat of him envelops me, a velvet fire that steals the air from my lungs. My fingers thread through his soft blonde hair, the strands sliding between them like silk as I praise him, letting him know just how incredible he is.
"Baby..." I murmur, the word ragged as my hips lift from the mattress. His eyes light up at the endearment, the blue darkening to midnight, and the way his lips curl into a faint smile around me sends a wave of heat coursing through me that has nothing to do with his mouth.
He knows what that word does to me, what it does to him. A secret language between us.
His tongue traces patterns against my skin, each movement deliberate and knowing.
The scrape of his teeth sends shivers racing down my spine, a perfect edge of danger to the overwhelming pleasure.
I watch him, mesmerized by the sight of this man, this beautiful, impossible man, worshipping me with his entire being.
His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as I arch against him, lost in the sensation.
"God, Andy... your mouth..." The words are broken, barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. He responds with a hum that vibrates through my entire body, a current that starts at the base of my spine and spreads outward until my toes curl into the sheets.
His tongue works me with a rhythm that's both maddening and perfect, each deliberate movement pushing me closer to the edge. My fingers tighten in his hair, to ground myself, to tether some part of me to reality as the rest of me dissolves into pure sensation.
His eyes flicker up to meet mine, and what I see there undoes me completely. It's not just desire, though there's plenty of that. It's devotion. Worship. As if bringing me pleasure is his religion, and I'm the deity he's devoted himself to.
My breath catches, chest heaving as I fight against the urge to close my eyes.
I want to watch him, to memorize every detail of this moment.
The way his blonde lashes cast shadows against his cheekbones, the slight flush spreading across his chest, the focused determination in those blue eyes that seem to see straight into my soul.
"Baby," I gasp, the word torn from me as he does something with his tongue that makes my vision blur at the edges.
"That's... fuck..." I can't form coherent sentences, can't string together more than fragments of praise.
My hips move of their own accord, seeking more of that perfect friction, that heat that threatens to consume me entirely.
He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, his voice rough and low. "Not yet."
He doesn't let me finish. Instead, Andy slides back up my body, his skin leaving trails of fire against mine.
He kisses me deeply, his tongue finding mine in a dance that's both possessive and tender. For a moment, we just breathe together, our hearts pounding in sync as the anticipation builds between us. I can taste myself on his lips, a reminder of how completely he's claimed me.
Then, with a knowing smile, he shifts back down my body again.
His hand wraps around me, stroking slowly as his mouth descends to my balls.
The wet heat of his tongue against sensitive skin sends jolts of electricity through my entire body.
He takes one, then the other into his mouth, sucking gently before swirling his tongue in patterns that make my vision blur.
His free hand grips my hip, holding me steady as I writhe beneath him.
"God, Andy..." I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair again. "That's... fuck..."
He hums against me, the vibration pushing me closer to the edge. His hand speeds up on my shaft, matching the rhythm of his mouth as he worships every inch of me. I'm completely at his mercy, a willing victim to his assault on my senses.
And I do. With a cry that's half his name, half pure sound, I shatter. The world narrows to nothing but his mouth on me, his hands on my hips, and the wave of pleasure that crashes over me, leaving me breathless.
He swallows, his throat working as he takes every drop, his eyes never leaving mine.
When he pulls back, his lips are swollen and glistening, and he deliberately licks them clean, savoring the taste of me.
The sight sends another jolt through my already spent body, a ghost of the pleasure that just consumed me.
Then he's moving, shifting up my body with a grace that belies the intensity of what just passed between us. His knees bracket my shoulders, his thighs trembling slightly as he positions himself above me. The scent of him—sweat and desire and something uniquely Andy—fills my senses, intoxicating.
I don't wait for an invitation. My hands grip his hips, pulling him down as I lift my head to meet him. The weight of him on my tongue, the taste of salt and skin, the way his fingers immediately tangle in my hair. All of it feels like coming home.
Andy lets out a choked gasp, his body arching above me as I take him deeper.
His hips begin to move in a rhythm that's both desperate and controlled, chasing his pleasure while trying to draw this out.
I match his pace, my tongue working against him in ways I've learned he loves, my hands sliding from his hips to cup his ass, pulling him impossibly closer.
"Vince..." he breathes, my name a prayer on his lips as his movements become more urgent. The muscles in his thighs tense, his breath comes in ragged pants, and I know he's close. I look up at him, at his face contorted in pleasure, at his eyes squeezed shut, at his mouth slightly parted.
"Look at me, baby," I murmur around him, and his eyes flutter open, hazy with desire. He watches me as I take him deeper, as I swallow around him, as I bring him to the edge.
His control finally shatters. With a cry that's my name, he pulses in my mouth, his body convulsing with waves of pleasure. I hold him through it, my hands steady on his hips, my mouth working to prolong his ecstasy until he's completely spent.
He collapses beside me, his body trembling, his breath coming in harsh gasps. I gather him into my arms, pressing kisses to his sweat-dampened forehead, his temple, his cheeks.
"God, I love you," he whispers against my skin, his voice raw and hoarse.
"I love you too," I murmur back, my heart full, my body sated, my world complete.