Necessary Restorations (The Walsh Series) (A) (23 page)

Until snow started gathering on my head, and dripped all over us.

We made it back to her apartment before getting entirely soaked. We stared at each other for a moment, shaking out of our coats, damp and breathless, not knowing what came next.

There was the
should come next,
the
want to come next,
and a slightly different avenue altogether.

And I only knew the different avenue. Every breath was new territory for me, and I was a dissociative blur of stress. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing here, how bed sex worked, how I’d navigate the infusion set situated on either sides of my belly button, or whether this was devolving into another friendly movie night. But my desire was winning, shoving all that shit into the background.

“You’re wet,” Tiel announced, fingering my collar. She pulled me into the tiny pink-and-maroon-tiled bathroom that screamed of the 1960s, pushed me against the sink, and rubbed a towel over my hair.

I lifted an eyebrow as she buffed my chest. I wasn’t particularly wet there, but that wasn’t her concern. “Don’t want you to catch a cold,” she murmured.

My thumb pressed her lips closed, and I said, “There are moments when I look at you, and I can’t even comprehend how beautiful you are. You really are pure wild.”

Then my mouth was on Tiel, devouring her, opening her until she was sighing for more.

“Thank you,” I murmured against her jaw. “For tonight. You were incredible.”

Her hands moved down my vest, touching and unbuttoning as she went, and she offered a quick kiss that transitioned into my tie wrapped around her fist and my tongue in her mouth. “Anytime,” she panted.

“Really? You’d do that again?”

“Of course,” she whispered. “That champagne was far better than the piss I drank on New Year’s Eve.”

I passed the towel over her shoulders and arms, then tossed it to the ground. Even though Tiel—and
only
Tiel—had seen my infusion set before, I hated having that apparatus on display. She caught sight of it the morning after the notorious elevator incident, and a few other times when I stayed the night, but never stared at the glucose sensor or insulin port.

I could temporarily detach the tubing that connected the insulin port to the pump so that I wasn’t chained to the device, but I couldn’t yank the infusion set out. She was going to see them and feel them against her skin, and the case could be made for keeping a shirt on. But I didn’t want anything between us tonight, and
holy
fucking shit,
there were entire quadrants of my brain going into lockdown over that notion.

Without breaking her heavy gaze, I unbuttoned my shirt, dropped it, and yanked my gray tank over my head.

“I have a couple more events over this month and next.” I pulled Tiel toward me, locking her between my legs, and I was thanking every higher power that I could name because she didn’t even glance at my abdomen. “I understand if you hated it. They are the most insufferable assholes I’ve ever met, and they seem to think it’s fine to slap some spackle on two-hundred-year-old plaster and call it restoration.” I sighed against her lips, my eyes closed. “I’ll go alone if you really hated it.”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “Did you even notice the number of cougars you had drooling all over you? Someone has to block and defend.”

I dragged my lips over the slope of her neck, and pressed my tank between her breasts. “Want to watch that movie now?” I asked. She giggled, nodding, but this wasn’t our typical routine. We weren’t going to the sofa and we’d be lucky if we saw more than the opening credits. “Put this on.” Her fingers closed around the shirt, and I kissed the tender spot beneath her earlobe while I unzipped her dress.

I stepped back, my hand on my belt buckle, watching Tiel while she clutched my shirt. Conflict was painted all over her face, and despite what happened at the mansion, we were crossing new lines. We’d spent more than two months kissing and snuggling, and the prospect of taking her to bed—an actual
bed
—loomed so much larger than it had earlier tonight. If she dropped that dress, there weren’t many things that could stop me from licking her entire body, and that redrew all the boundaries.

“Turn around.”

My brow quirked as I fought back a smile. “I ripped off your panties two hours ago. You didn’t ask me to turn around for that.”

“That was the champagne’s prerogative. Not mine.” I didn’t exactly remember it that way, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. “Turn around.”

I complied, but she didn’t account for the bathroom mirror giving me a glorious view of her body or the way she studied the ink on my back once her dress and bra were off. I sighed when her fingers moved over the intricate designs, loving her touch more than I could ever explain.

“This is so beautiful, Sam.”

As I turned, she caught sight of a fishhook inked on the underside of my arm and rubbed her thumb against it. My eyes swept over her breasts, barely restrained by the tank, and I drew her closer.

Her thumb passed back and forth over my bicep, at first tracing on the simple shape and then pressing her mouth against it. “I wanted to taste it,” she said. “I wanted to feel it under my tongue.”

My fingers skimmed up her face and into her hair, my gaze shifting to her mouth. She rose up on her toes to kiss me, and her lips were slow as they moved against me, her tongue gentle, and it brought forth a slight moan that I couldn’t stop. It was one precious kiss, but it seemed bigger than a loud, thrashing orgasm.

“Let me tell you what I’m thinking,” I said, my lips returning to her neck. “We’ll watch the movie after. We’re going to be lucky if I last three minutes once I get inside you because, let’s face it, I’ve been thinking about this for two months.”

“No, you haven’t,” she laughed. She traced the Celtic knot wreath on my shoulder, then followed it with her tongue and teeth, and I was dangerously close to coming all over her again. “You say that to undersell yourself and look like a champ when you over-deliver. Your lines don’t work on me, sir.”

I dragged my fingers up the backs of her thighs until her entire body shivered, and another version of me would have fucked her here. It would have been quick and hard, and it would be good for us both, but it was too easy to fall back on my old tactics. It scared the shit out of me, but I was undressed and taking this woman to bed tonight.

“You wore a pink skirt when we went to House of Blues last month, and in the right light, it was see-through. You were wearing dark panties with light stripes, and I didn’t spend the night with you because I had to go home and jerk off four times.”

“
Four
times?” she asked. “Stop making shit up.”

“You still doubt me.” I brought her hand to the erection that was drilling into her stomach. “If you don’t want this, say it and we’ll forget the whole night. I’ll leave. We’ll go back to seeing shows and watching movies because you’re my best friend and I’ll do
anything
for you, but know that I’d very much enjoy fucking you—” I thrust into her hand. “Right now.”

Her hand moved over me, and I gave her a quick nod of encouragement followed by a groan that must have originated in my toes when her fist curled around me. “Don’t.” She shook her head and pushed my trousers down to my ankles. “Don’t leave me.”

I marched her out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom, her adorable ass peeking out from under my shirt, and
fuck fuck fuck,
that was a look I wanted to remember. Hurriedly, I disconnected the tubing from my infusion set as best I could and dropped the device on her bedside table.

“Sam?”

I couldn’t keep my hands off her, and they were everywhere from her legs to her belly to her breasts, and as much as that shirt turned me on, it needed to go. It was cute while it lasted. “Yes, Sunshine?”

“If I let you in,” she said, climbing onto her bed as I followed. “Promise not to break anything.”

She was caged beneath me, her hand firm on my cock while I inched the shirt up her sides, but she was suddenly so much more delicate than I’d ever noticed.

“It’s a deal,” I whispered. “Just don’t break me either, okay?”

A smile spread across her face, and she inched my boxers down. “Show me where I can touch you.”

I was ready with a sarcastic response, but then I understood what she was asking. The beauty of quick and dirty stand-up sex was that I never needed to fully undress. All these years and I’d survived without taking off all my clothes, never once baring the freakish medical equipment that was never far from my side. Not until Tiel got me drunk and we danced around her apartment. And now.

There was an urge coursing through my veins to get up, grab my clothes, and get the fuck out, but not enough to actually do it. The tension between wanting Tiel and wanting to protect myself was overwhelming, but the suffocating stress was fading just enough to focus on the woman beneath me. Guiding her hand to the disc on my belly, I said, “This is the blood sugar sensor.”

She nodded, her expression neutral as her finger circled the flat, hard plastic surrounded by a thin adhesive shield that kept it in place. I moved her hand to my other side, another protected disc. “And the pump port is over here today.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but . . .” I hesitated.

“It’s okay, Sam.” Tiel offered a patient smile, and pulled the shirt over her head and there was nothing, nothing between us anymore. All the filthy things I wanted to say to her, the practiced ways I wanted to touch her, all of it drifted away and instinct took over.

Before this moment, I had no idea what it meant to be aroused. My dick got hard plenty, but I’d never felt a longing in my core, my marrow, until Tiel was naked beneath me. She was lush and curved in all the right places, and those tits—there was a reason I’d been enamored with them from the start—filled my hands in the most sumptuous way.

She wasn’t just stunning and sexy, she was fun. She giggled when my stubbly chin scraped between her breasts, down her belly, and between her thighs, and it was the most amazing, lighthearted sound in the world. This wasn’t rough, anonymous sex simply for the purpose of scratching the itch. This was real, and just like all things Tiel, that realness called into question everything I once believed about myself.

“You’re gonna have to hold still,” I said, my lips grazing between her pelvic bones.

“And if I don’t?” she asked, rising up on her elbows. “What happens then?” There was a challenge in her eyes, a sparkle that made tearing some panties look like amateur hour. “Will you punish me?”

My eyes dropped to her bald apex. I didn’t have much practical experience with kink, but God help me, I was ready to learn. “Yes,” I said. “And you’ll like it.”

The last time I licked a pussy, I was just old enough to vote. The memory wasn’t especially vivid—none of them were—but I knew it wasn’t especially good pussy. The instant my tongue reached Tiel’s wet center, it was like savoring something I hadn’t known I was craving.

She tasted like heaven itself, and for once, I wasn’t concerned with how quickly this would end.

I wanted it to last, and that was an arresting realization. I wasn’t busy mentally walking through my projects or selecting which excuse I’d use to zip up.

Her incessant wiggling
was
a concern, and without much thought, my hand swung out and connected with her upper thigh. She gasped, and it was a long, stuttering noise that packed entire sentences into a single sound. In that second, I was half-convinced she was going to kick my ass to the curb.

But when I looked up, I found her eyes wide and a lusty smile stretched across her face. She fucking
loved
that. “Oh, you little perv,” I said.

I grabbed her legs but she was too quick, and she crawled away, giggling. “You’re not allowed to growl at me like that,” she said.

I chased her into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, her chest flattened against the headboard. I roped my arm around her waist, pulling her hips toward me. “Why not?”

“Because it makes me want to do irrational things,” she said, yelping as my hand cracked against her ass. “And this is already pretty irrational.”

Placing her hands on the headboard and widening her stance, I kissed up her spine and over her shoulders, finally turning her head toward me and landing on her mouth. “The only irrational choice would be not doing exactly what I tell you to.” I tapped her hands. “Do not let go.”

Making good on my promise, I explored every inch of Tiel. She squirmed when my tongue moved over the pounding pulse in her throat, the dimples low on her back, that sharp curve of her waist. By the time I situated myself between her legs and started biting the soft, soft skin there, she was vibrating.

“Condoms,” she panted. “Drawer. Sooner rather than later.”

I’d never once taken orders from a woman while we were going at it. I’d acknowledged requests for
more,
this,
that,
harder,
faster,
slower,
but even when I was a full-time, card-carrying nice guy, I was the fucking boss.

“Sweetheart,” I said, licking the arousal from her slit. “I will get there in good time. Don’t you worry about that.”

Despite her resistance, I inched lower and lapped at her. Her sweet little clit just begged for my attention, and the sounds she made the second my tongue connected with it were the most erotic things I’d ever heard. She possessed a new level of porn star moaning, and that shit was intoxicating. A few more well-timed cries, and this party would be ending quickly.

“No-
oooo,
” she wailed. “Get there now.”

I was the fucking boss, but God, I would do anything to make her happy.

Levering up on my knees, I bracketed my legs on either side of her, my cock sliding along the cleft of her ass. I took her tits in my hands, squeezing them and twisting her nipples until she bucked against me, screeching my name while my teeth sank into her shoulder. “Your neighbors are going to know who I am,” I said, my hand sliding up to cup her jaw. I tilted her face toward me. “Is that what you want?”