I strum my thumb across her clit, spreading her open so I can see what I’m doing. “No,” I say. “I mean down here.”
She hisses out a breath. “Do you want to?” she asks. She adjusts the pillows behind her so that she’s sitting up a little more and raises her arms behind her head so she can watch me.
I laugh. “Oh yeah, I want to,” I say. Her cl*t is all swollen, and I push the hood back with my thumb. I lean down and lick across it. I want to slide my finger inside her, but I’m afraid she’s not ready for that. I’m afraid of everything when it comes to her because I don’t want to mess this up. “I want to lick you until you come on my face,” I say.
She groans when my head dips, and I suckle her clit. Her knees raise so she can rock against my mouth. I look up from where I’m working on her, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes close.
“Pete,” she cries. I nod, and I keep sucking. She’s so wet, and I have her spread open and she trusts me and this is the most f**king perfect thing I’ve ever done before in my life. “Pete,” she says again. Her fingers slide into my hair, and she pushes me a little to the left. I let up on my grip on her cl*t and move over. She cries out when I latch onto her again, and she pushes my head, moving me closer to her. I hum against her clit, and she cries out, her breaths ragged and choppy. “Pete,” she says again. “Pete, Pete, Pete, Pete,” she chants. Her eyes close and her head falls back, and then she breaks. I hold on and thread my fingers through hers when she tries to push my head away. I gentle my tongue, and she relaxes, her body pulsing as she does it. She comes on my face, and I f**king love everything about it. She quivers and quakes and shakes and those noises she makes drive me wild. She pushes my forehead and whispers, “I can’t take anymore. Please, Pete.” She’s still shuddering though, and I push her all the way through it. When she’s finally still, I open her up with my thumbs and lick her from top to bottom, over and over. She’s so wet and she tastes so good and she still has these little aftershocks that quiver through her. I wipe my face on her inner thigh and crawl up her body. “Oh my God,” she moans. Her body is soft and lax under me. I kiss her, and I hope she can taste how f**king happy she just made me. She lifts her head. “Do you do anything that’s not epic?” She laughs. It’s a happy sound, and I want to make her do it over and over.
“I’m an overachiever,” I say. I kiss her, drawing her lower lip between my teeth. I’m hard against her belly, and I’m afraid it will scare her.
“What about you, Pete?” she says. She reaches down my belly and slips her tentative fingers beneath my waistband, and her eyes open wide as she wraps her fingers around me and grips me tightly.
I bury my face in her neck. I’ll just let her touch me for a second. But a second is all it takes. “Oh shit,” I groan as my balls crawl up toward my body, and I spill into her hand. Her hand stills for a second, but her eyes close as she makes a happy sound and she grips me tighter. I thrust into her fist, which is now wet with the product of us. She doesn’t let go. Her hand is tight and sure. She rolls her thumb around the tip with every thrust of my hips. She’s touching me, and I look down between us and see that I made a god-awful mess on her belly. I still and look up into her face. She’s laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look quite so happy. She wraps me up with her clean hand and holds me tight against her. Her other is trapped between us, and she’s still holding onto my dick. I pull my h*ps back, trying to slide out of her grip, and hiss as she squeezes me tighter. I throw the shirt that’s over her tits to the side and lay my forehead against her nak*d skin, trying to catch my breath. “I’m sorry,” I say. I didn’t mean to do that.
She takes my face in her hands and lifts it so that I look at her. She’s grinning. “Are you kidding?” she laughs. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah, it kinda was,” I say. I kiss her. I can’t stop it. I have to. “We’re a mess,” I warn.
“I don’t care.” She giggles, and I have never, ever heard a happier sound.
“Are you all right?” I ask. What if she’s delirious from the stress of it?
She lays her head back against the pillow, her chest shaking with laughter. “I think I just came on your face,” she says. She giggles again.
I laugh, too. I can’t help it. It’s contagious—her happiness. She’s f**king happy. And so am I.
Reagan
I wake up in Pete’s arms, our nak*d limbs tangled together. Pete had taken off his boxers and used them to clean up the mess between us, and then he slid into bed nak*d, just like me. He’d pulled me against his chest and kissed my forehead, murmuring softly to me about how amazing that was. I don’t think it was nearly as amazing for him as it was for me. He had to work to get me off, and all I had to do was touch him really quickly. I smile against my pillow at the thought of it. Perfect. That’s what it was. Perfect.
He stirs when I start to move, and his arms reach for me. But now I know what woke me. Maggie is retching beside the bed, and I need to get up. I’m going to have to call the vet. This isn’t normal for her. Not at all. I suppose it can wait until the sun comes up. I glance at the clock on the bedside table, and it’s not even morning yet. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Pete. He rolls into his pillow, and I’m not even sure he’s awake. He makes a low sound, but it’s more of a mumble. I pull Pete’s shirt over my head and slide into my jeans. Then I stick my feet into Pete’s sneakers. He won’t mind. I’m not wearing underwear, but I just need to go to the bathroom and find something to clean up Maggie’s mess. I pet her head for a second, and she looks up at me like she’s sorry. The hallway is dark when I step out, and it takes me a minute to get my bearings.
I go back and clean up the floor and go pee really quickly, but then I see Maggie standing at the front door, scratching at it. She needs to go out. It’s the middle of the night, and we’re not in a good section of town. “Oh, Mags,” I say. “Can’t it wait?” I throw my head back and groan. I suppose I could wake Pete up. I really don’t want to go down by myself. Then again, I’ll have Maggie with me.
Papers rustle at the kitchen table, and I jump. One of the brothers is sitting there, and he closes a book in front of himself. It’s the one with the ponytail—Matt? He lays his pen down and says quietly, “Does she need to go out?” He stands up and reaches for his shoes. “I’ll take her.” He slides his feet into his shoes and walks toward me.
“You don’t have to go to any trouble,” I say. I take a step back, and Maggie growls at him. He holds out his hands to the side. “Mags,” I scold. She buries her head under my hand and runs back to the door, where she scratches. “I’m just going to take her out really quick,” I say. I go back to our room, get Maggie’s leash, and clip it to her collar. I open the door and step out, but before I can close it behind me, Matt joins me. “You really don’t have to go,” I say.
He jams his hands in his pockets and walks by me, opening the door to the stairwell. He doesn’t say a word. He just walks down with us and out toward the street, where he leads us to an area with some grass and trees. It’s small, but it’ll do. Maggie immediately squats and comes back to walk circles around my legs. “All done?” he asks. He brushes his hair back because some of it’s falling out of the rubber band at the back of his neck. He really does look a lot like Pete, but he’s thin and tall. He’s not as broad as Pete, but he’s wiry and I can tell he’s strong. He’s not threatening at all, and the fact that he’s not surprises me. Men usually scare the hell out of me.
“Yeah,” I say, and we start back toward the apartment.
The city is not asleep. I doubt it ever sleeps, and some men walk by us wearing knit caps and football jerseys. I back up and step into Matt. He puts his hands on my shoulders and says, “Careful.” He squeezes my shoulders gently, and then he steps back. He holds the door wide, and I slide through without touching him. But in the back of my mind, I’m lamenting over the fact that he didn’t make my skin crawl. “You okay?” he asks as we start up the stairs.
I nod. But I have this lump in my throat. I officially have three men in my life now who don’t scare me. My dad, Pete, and this man I don’t know. And the fact that I don’t know him, yet feel okay with him touching me, amazes me. “Thanks for going with me,” I say.
“I couldn’t let Pete’s girl go out in the dark alone. He’d never forgive me.” My belly flips at his choice of words. Pete’s girl.
“I should have just woken him up. I don’t think he’d mind.”
He snorts. “You’ve never seen Pete in the morning, huh?”
I guess I haven’t. Not when he gets right out of bed. “No,” I admit. But up until tonight, he’d never came in my hand, either, so I guess I’m learning all sorts of things about him, how he looks in the morning being just one of them.
We get halfway up the stairs and I realize Maggie’s not with us. I let her leash drop after we came through the door because she always follows so closely. I look down and see her on the second level, lying on the floor panting. “Mags?” I say. I walk toward her, and she lumbers to her feet. But she’s unsteady, and she refuses to walk up the stairs.
“Will she let me carry her?” Matt asks.
I doubt it. I can carry her myself, but before I can say so, he walks over to her and lets her sniff his hand. He pets her head and down the length of her back. Then he hoists her into his arms and carries her up the stairs. She doesn’t complain, and she doesn’t try to bite him.
He lets us into the apartment and sets her down, and then he sits down on the floor and lets her crawl into his lap. “She doesn’t usually like people,” I say.
He smiles. “They can tell when we’re harmless,” he says softly. “Do you want me to find a vet tonight?” he asks.
“I think she’ll be okay until morning, don’t you?” I never know what to do with emergencies. I’ve never had to deal with one all by myself.
“Probably,” he says. He rises to his feet, and I realize how big he really is. He’s at least as tall as Pete, and he’s covered in tattoos just like Pete is, but he’s…different. It’s hard to explain. “Want something to drink?” he asks softly as he goes to the fridge.
I’m wide awake, so I may as well. He brings me a bottle of water, and I see him take a carton of ice cream from the fridge. It’s Rocky Road, my favorite.
“Want some?” he whispers, and he takes out two bowls. He starts to scoop ice cream into them.
“Did we wake you up?” I ask, and I sit down at the table when he hands me a bowl and a spoon.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t sleep well sometimes, so I get up and write.” He shrugs. “It clears my head.”