For You (28 page)

I whispered, “It's a beautiful painting. Nobody's ever drawn me before. I didn't know what it felt like until now.”

“To be someone's inspiration?”

The tears returned, and this time they wouldn't hold back.

I whispered, “To be seen.”

“I see you,” he said, kissing my hand. “I see you, Aubrey.”

The skin of his chest was hot against me, and I reached for his hardness, still in his jeans.

He groaned and pulled back from me.

“Hang on,” he said. “Don't go anywhere. I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

He ran out the door and down the stairs. I stared at his beautiful drawing, but then I had to turn away, before I got all emotional again.

Sawyer came bounding in the door, one hand behind his back with something.

“What are you up to?” I asked warily.

“Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and rested my forearm over my face for good measure.

Something cool touched my chest, between my breasts.

“What is that?” Something smelled sweet. “Honey?”

I heard his jeans rustling as he removed them, then he positioned his body between my legs and began to lick in a line straight up my stomach.

“Mm,” he said. “Real maple syrup.”

I giggled. “You're kidding.”

“We call this
The Canadian
, don'cha-know, eh?”

“You just made that up.”

“I was inspired.” He moved his hot lips closer to my throat, then took a detour over to my nipple, which he rounded with the tip of his tongue before sucking.

I moaned and squirmed beneath him, but he wouldn't let me get away.

He murmured, “Am I your part-time lover?”

“Yes.”

He frowned and gently bit my nipple. “Am I your part-time lover?” he asked again. “Or your full-time lover?”

“Oh. No, you're my full-time lover.”

“Good. You can open your eyes now,” he said.

I pulled my arm off my face and wrapped it around his smooth, muscular shoulder. My eyes didn't want to open, though. I kept them shut and enjoyed the sensation of him sucking my nipple. The feeling was like a static charge, through my body, connecting my breasts with every part of me and him.

He kissed my throat and then started the journey down, down the center of my body, licking and sucking and gently biting as he went.

When he reached my navel, I shuddered with anticipation of his mouth on me.

Slow, gentle sweeps of his lips and tongue.

Down he went, and he was kissing me. His tongue parted me and drove itself in, flicking up at the top and making me shudder. His hands were still on me, rubbing my torso along the sides and then moving down to cup my buttocks, squeezing me firmly as he devoured me.

My back arched as I drove the back of my head into the bed, moaning in sweet joy as the sensation radiated out from Sawyer's touch.

He murmured into my flesh, “I want to taste you every day, and know all your secrets.”

My breath fluttered in my chest as I circled the edge of orgasm.

I gasped, “Anything.”

“Come for me.”

I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair, then guided him up a fraction of an inch. Not far at all, but it made all the difference.

“Right there,” I murmured.

He licked my clit with a new ferocity that set me on fire and curled my toes.

Between licks, he said, “I see you, Aubrey, and I feel you. I've found you, and I'll never let you go.”

I angled my hips up and made a sound of encouragement.

He licked again, harder, and slipped his fingers inside me at the same time, hooking his fingertips and catching me from the inside.

I gasped under his touch and came with a sudden strength I didn't know I had. This orgasm slammed into me and shook me. The intensity scared me. Sawyer scared me. I went inside myself to escape, and found no darkness, only white light and love.

When I surfaced, he'd opened a foil packet and was pushing inside me. He slid in with the pulses of my orgasm and my pleasure intensified. I wrapped my arms around his back and held him tight to me.

He stroked in and out with urgency, breathing heavily. I clung to him with my upper body, and found purchase with my feet so I could push my hips up to meet his.

His cock was thick and hard inside me, pushing deeper than anyone had ever been, and still I wanted more.

His breathing ragged, he said, “You feel so good. I'm so deep inside you, and it's unbelievable. You're so hot, and you make me crazy.”

He pulled out suddenly and grabbed me to flip me over. On my knees, I grabbed onto a pillow, hugging it to my chest, my buttocks up in the air. My eyes closed, I waited for his cock to slip back inside me, but he was doing something else.

I looked over my shoulder to see Sawyer grinning, the maple syrup back in his hand.

“Don't look,” he said.

“I can't look!” I buried my face in the pillow, both horrified and delighted as he drizzled syrup across my buttocks and along my private areas. Then he started licking me, from the bottom to the top and everywhere in between. The licking felt so intense and incredible, I could hardly breathe. I just moaned into my pillow.

I was wet, swollen, and aching for him to fill me when I felt the tip of his cock against my opening again.

He murmured, “You want that?”

“Mm-hmm.” I kept my face buried in the pillow.

He slapped my buttocks playfully. “Sorry, did you say something?”

I popped my head up briefly. “Give it to me.”

I heard him breathe in deeply and hold his breath, letting out a little gasp as he slid in.

My swollen, super-sensitive flesh hugged him tightly, gripping him. He pushed in further, and firecrackers of pleasure went off behind my eyelids. Then he was in all the way, impaling me with heat.

He stroked in and out, both hands on my hips, and then one hand moved, circling around to my clit once more. He dragged his finger across my engorged clit, and I started to come once more, hugging the pillow tight to my chest.

He groaned and picked up the pace, pumping me hard, driving into me as he circled my clit. His cock pulsed inside me, and I heard his pleasure groaning out through his gritted teeth, like he was trying to stay quiet, but couldn't.

I took all his pleasure inside me and exploded in orgasm.

More light and goodness.

We were on the surface of the moon.

Gravity returned, and both of us collapsed on the bed, me on my stomach and him on top of me.

He groaned again and twitched once more, then he gently bit my shoulder from behind.

“Aftershock,” he said.

I squeezed my muscles around him and he pulsed inside me again, both of us trembling together.

After a moment, he carefully withdrew and pulled away to his side, then quickly threw his leg over me, as if to prevent me from escaping.

We lay there, catching our breath.

“You're sticky,” he said.

“Someone put maple syrup on me.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

I huddled my arms under my chest and turned my head so we were facing each other. His green eyes weren't looking fierce anymore, but relaxed, like a calm body of water after a storm.

“My boyfriend,” I said.

His smile spread in slow-motion, lighting up his whole face, and my heart, too.

“Boyfriend,” he whispered.

SAWYER JONES

So, I was boyfriend material. Full-time. Officially.

When I woke up Sunday morning to the sound of someone banging on my bedroom door, I thought for a moment the house was being raided by the cops. Because that was the kind of living situation I was in, apparently.

Then Aubrey came in, looking all flustered and adorable. Spanky must have let her in. I wanted to kiss her, but she was so angry. I'd never seen a woman that angry.

Still fuzzy from dreaming, my brain shot into panic mode, where thinking was difficult.

Aubrey kept saying I'd slept with another girl.

Even though she'd found me alone in my room, she thought I'd banged some chick, then locked my door again after sending the girl to the kitchen. Or something. Why would I deadbolt my door? It made no sense. She was hysterical. I made the mistake of nearly laughing over how ridiculous it was, and she damn near reached into my chest to pull out my beating heart.

Off she ran.

And I thought about letting her go. Without her seeing me, my life didn't seem so shitty, didn't need to change. I could keep living my life, sharing a crap house with a drug dealer and partying all the time.

I heard the front door slam, and instantly I saw myself for the idiot I was. I pulled on my jeans, but skipped the shoes, because she was getting away. The love of my life was getting away. The further she got from me, the more I knew.

When I caught her, outside, running headlong into an alley, she was hysterical. Spitting mad. And sexy as hell.

I couldn't take my hands off her. Up was down and down was up, and then we were at it like two alley cats. I lost my mind. Nothing that happened the rest of that day was sane.

Back up in my room, I poured my heart out, but she didn't laugh in my face. She didn't tell me I was “too intense,” or “moving too fast,” or “freaking her out.”

When I finally pressed her, Aubrey admitted that she wanted everything I had to offer.

She wanted me.

Part of me wanted to run away, terrified, but her pale gray eyes, calm as the moon, held me fast.

Stay
, her eyes said.

Stay.

So we stayed in bed all day, and I made love to her every way I could imagine, and she couldn't get enough of me. Outside my bedroom walls, people were going to work, and living, and dying, and none of that mattered, because Aubrey and I were the whole world.

I knew that no matter what happened next for us, I'd never look at maple syrup the same way, and I'd never let her run away from me again.

Our beautiful Sunday together ended at dinner time, with Aubrey running off to be home for when her daughter returned. Wait, not her daughter—her sister.

I offered to give her a ride, but she said, “I'd rather walk and get the fresh air and exercise.”

We were standing on my porch, kissing goodbye, and I grabbed her ass, which felt close to naked under the thin fabric of her dress.

“Exercise? Girl, did I not put you through your paces today?”

She gave me a coy look instead of an answer. With just a few flicks of her eyelashes, my cock stirred from its slumber, not content with the amount of abuse that had been heaped on it already that day.

I pulled her to me and kissed her again, hoping she'd invite me to come over to her place that night. Maybe after the little girl went to bed. I could be real quiet, if I had to.

But no, she pulled away and left.

I didn't want her to walk away, but at least the view was good.

On Monday, I wanted to see Aubrey during the day, but I had to go to my father's office and talk to him about my entire life, my prospects, my future. You know, just a little chat.

So that ordeal lasted until two o'clock, and then there was no time to get back and see Aubrey. It was the first downside to my new career, but I hoped the money and stability would eventually make up for such sacrifices.

I texted her to ask if I could meet her little sister that night, but she asked for more time.

Time? Did I have time? I didn't feel like I did. I had something to give Aubrey, and it was a throbbing, messy thing.

My heart.

What did you think I was going to say?

I wanted to feel her legs wrap around me, and I wanted to write her a fucking poem. That was love, right? I'd never felt anything like it before. I wanted to breathe her in like oxygen, and be there when she woke.

She didn't want to introduce me to Bell on Monday, or on Tuesday.

What had been the point in quitting the restaurant and trying to get my life in order if I couldn't have my Aubrey?

Doubts plagued me. I was making the right decisions for the wrong reasons… or maybe everything was wrong.

At ten o'clock Tuesday, I got on my bike and went for one last ride. I had an appointment Wednesday to show the bike to someone who'd emailed me from the Craigslist posting, and then there'd be no more rides.