“Of course. That was the dare.”
Eyes locked on his, she spread as he’d requested and stretched her right leg out, her foot braced on the table’s edge. He licked his lips, and that little motion sent heat straight to her cunny. She’d heard that word in a period drama, one with lots of sex and treachery, and that was the term she used in her own head, though it was a little silly and old-fashioned.
Without hesitation, she touched her labia. Dew misted them slightly, but when she parted them, the wetness grew more intense. Gillie slid her thumb up and down, gone breathless at the sensations. She’d never done this. Ever. And it felt so delicious, especially beneath his hot, hungry stare. At first she stroked up and down, getting to know her body. His breathing rasped in the silence, adding to the soft, slick sounds created by her explorations. She imagined these were his fingers, and the sensations spiked with new ferocity.
She slid down in the chair a little, giving herself a better angle and him a better view. He murmured his appreciation in low, guttural tones. Sweet words, encouraging ones. This time, she tapped her clit, gentle little strikes that sent sparks rolling through her pelvis. Would it be too dirty to use both hands? One to stroke up and down, the other to play right there? By his moan, she guessed not as she brought her other hand into the action.
Reaching down, she worked her index finger inside, marveling at the smooth heat. It hadn’t hurt when Taye touched her the other night; it didn’t now. Just then, Gillie could only be grateful that it felt so fucking good. The pleasure swirled higher, and she forgot about putting on a show, forgot he was watching. She whimpered a little as she discovered the rhythm she liked best, both within and without. Throwing her head back, she worked her hips, utterly without shame or inhibition.
“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” His voice was a low, sexy growl.
“Yeah.” Breathless agreement.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Come on now, Gillie. Come
on
.”
With her eyes closed and Taye urging her on, she tightened her thighs on her hand, bearing down with the other, and that did it. Just the right pressure. She came endlessly, sobbing his name. By the time her body steadied, cool sweat covered her skin.
“Well?” she challenged. “Did I win?”
He laughed shakily. “I think I did.”
She felt incredibly content. “Call it a draw and pour me some more wine.”
His gaze devoured her as she dressed and went to wash her hands. When she returned, another glass of red awaited her. She sat beside him on the sofa, and without meaning to, she skimmed a look at his lap.
Oh, how lovely.
There was no hiding his arousal in gray sweats.
“It’s your turn,” he said, “unless you’re done playing.”
Gillie sipped her wine. “I’m just getting started.”
“I was afraid of that.” But he didn’t sound scared. Instead, anticipation radiated from him in glowing waves. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see lightning crackle from his fingers.
“So truth or dare, then?”
“After what you just did, truth would be a pussy move, wouldn’t it? Dare.”
Mmm.
She had high hopes for this evening. “Only fair for you to show me yours, wouldn’t you agree?”
He raised a brow. “Are you allowed to turn the same stunt back on me?”
“Do you
really
care about the rules? Don’t you want to?”
From his visceral response and the tension of his body, he did. He considered for a few seconds, eyes distant, then he stood and circled the coffee table. She sat back as he had, obeying the unspoken rules. Look, but don’t touch. Admire, but don’t move.
He only wore those gray sweats, and they came off fast. His body carried numerous scars; a small pucker on his side looked like a scar from a gunshot wound. His skin told secrets his brain had long since forgotten; but maybe that was for the best. By the look of him, it wasn’t a happy tale. And yet he was so beautiful it hurt. He had little body hair and a broad, gorgeous chest, tapering to lean hips and tautly muscled legs.
She had seen erect penises before, but only in pictures. His took her breath away. At this distance, there were more veins than she’d expected, and his balls hung heavy between his thighs. Taye sat as she had, but he slid down farther, a frown building. She gleaned from his impatience that the straight chair wasn’t the best place for him.
“Would the couch be better?” she whispered. “I can move to the other end.”
“Yeah.” His voice held a raw, guttural note, as if each delay caused him pain.
Belatedly, she remembered he hadn’t come the night before, so he must be desperate for relief. Gillie wanted to provide it, but she’d play the game by his rules. Hands off, for now.
He retraced his steps and sank down on the far edge, angling his body so she could see his erection. The tip glistened slightly, and he hadn’t even touched it yet. Taye slid into a slouch, his head resting on the back of the sofa. He slitted his eyes, still focused on her, and wrapped his hand around his cock.
A pained sound escaped him. “How do you want it? Slow? Or should I just go for it?”
Torn, she hesitated. But from the restless movements of his hips, she thought he needed the latter. So she said, “I want to see how quick you can come.”
“Thank you,” he breathed.
He stroked hard, more pressure than she would’ve guessed could feel good, and so fast his hand became a blur, pumping up and down. She wanted to lick his thighs, to bite and nuzzle and cup his testicles in her hands. She feared even blinking, afraid she would miss something delicious. His abdominal muscles tensed as he worked, his face fierce with pleasure. Soon his breath came in loud rasps, punctuated by the sound of his fist on his cock.
“Watch me,” he whispered. “Don’t look away.”
“I won’t. You’re beautiful.”
“Tell me you like it, Gillie.”
“I do. I’m imagining how lovely you’d feel inside me.”
At that, he gave a pained groan and lifted his hips, hunching upward even more furiously. “I’m your first.”
“You are. Only you.” She saw how her words fueled his urgency and she gave him more. “You’re going to fuck me so hard.”
His eyes opened, wide with this wild longing. That look begged for the rest, a verbal picture of what she could only imagine. But for him, she’d try.
“Feels so good. Don’t stop.”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
Faster now, harder still. Impossible to conceive that felt good, the rough way he tugged and pulled. But she’d know not to be too gentle with him later.
“No, love. It’s perfect. I need you.”
As if those words constituted the key to his release, he roared and bucked, coming in long waves. He tensed and jerked, the fluid coating his fingers, belly, and chest. Without being asked, she got a damp cloth and handed it to him. God, he was magnificent in repose, the essence of masculine beauty. The air of leashed violence that always clung to him dissipated somewhat as well. He reminded her of a well-fed lion, indolent after a kill. Taye cleaned up with languid motions and then slipped back into his sweats. Then his eyes drifted shut and his head fell back against the couch once more.
Cuddling up would be the perfect end to the game, but she wasn’t brave enough to see how he’d respond. It couldn’t always be her, reaching for him. There had to be some reciprocation. So she merely sat down with every appearance of calm, although his reaction would determine their course, going forward, whether this was the start of something, or its end.
Taye watched her
through his lashes. Though he knew later he’d probably regret what they’d done, right then, he felt pretty damn good. But she seemed nervous. Without realizing he’d made a decision, he leaned over and anchored her to his side. Her coppery curls spilled across his skin, soft as silk. He was pretty sure nothing in the world had ever been so good. He ran his hand through her hair, watching as the red strands feathered around his fingers.
So pretty.
She was made for sunshine and smiles.
“Here’s the deal,” he said lazily. “No dares, because that would require moving. But I’ll give you more truth.”
“It’s your turn anyway.”
So it is.
He thought about what he wanted to know most and shied away from the question. So he settled for the next best thing. Taye would take her in slivers and glimpses, like light glimpsed through a tangle of tree limbs at dusk. “What’s your dearest memory?”
Gillie curled into him, resting her head on his chest, and he had the wild idea that for him it would be the memory they were making right now. No matter what came after, the gentle grace of her weight against his side, her heart beating in time with his, nothing could ever be sweeter. He’d take this moment to his grave.
“After I got out of the hospital for the last time. I was cured, not just in remission. My parents were so happy.” She paused, face gentle with reminiscence. “On the way home, my dad stopped at a doughnut shop. I hadn’t been able to eat much for so long, but before I got sick, he’d bring home a dozen on Sunday mornings before church. It was two in the afternoon, and we had doughnuts for lunch because we
could
.”
“I get that.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “My turn, I guess?”
He ran his fingers through her hair, luxuriating in the moment. For this stolen span, he would act like he had the right to hold and cherish her. “Shoot.”
“How do you feel about me?”
Taye muffled a curse. He ought to have known she’d cut to the core of the matter. No bullshit for Gillie Flynn.
Has the heart of a lion does my girl.
The possessive thought slipped free before he could stop it, leaving cyclone-style devastation in its wake. He couldn’t afford to indulge in fantasies; it would only make walking away harder down the line.
“You’re the most important person in my life.” In that he could be honest and hope she didn’t press for more. Not that he could give it. That honor would go to some other guy.
I’d kinda like to kill him.
Her face lit as if fueled by sunrise, and he wished he didn’t have that much power over her emotions. This could only end in tears. Yet he didn’t resist when she curled closer.
“I think we’d better stop here,” she murmured. “It’s not going to get any better.”
Prophetic words, Gillie-girl.
“Are you tired?”
“Unbelievably.”
Together, they fixed some food in the kitchen. It was simple fare, plain boiled rice, because that was all that was left. This place hadn’t been meant for long-term residents. Gillie ate far more than he did. The knives were back in his stomach, endless carving until he tasted copper in the back of his throat. It was only better when he touched her, like her proximity possessed some healing magic.
“Not hungry?” she asked.
He shrugged. Good thing this interlude was almost over. Taye didn’t know how much longer he could hide his illness from her. She paid far too much attention.
In the bathroom, he studied his reflection in the mirror. Shadows below the eyes, scruffy face. What the hell did she see in him anyway? He pissed, washed his hands, and then did his best to clean his teeth with his finger and some old half-used toothpaste in the cabinet. She took her turn while he waited with imperfect patience.
Just one more night. That’s all.
Once she finished, Gillie snagged his hand, leading him up the stairs. With tousled hair and bare, lightly freckled face, she should not have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But she was, and he suspected she always would be. The warmth of her smile tied him in knots.
Get me through this,
he silently begged the joker who ran the universe. As usual, the bastard answered only with silence.
Together they went up to bed, but he fought sleep because it was his last night with her. Despite his best intentions, Taye fell.
The night was black and cold; he’d staked out a place over a heating grate. Others huddled nearby in their own boxes, their own nightmares. One of them was singing “We’ll Meet Again” in a drunken-gravel bass, low and mournful like a foghorn heard over long miles. As the rain came down, the cardboard grew sodden from the weight of the rain, and so he curled deeper. He couldn’t remember why it was so important they didn’t find him. Only that it was.
They hunted him. He saw their faces everywhere. Fear and cold chilled his skin, so he took a drink from the bottle in his hand. Mad Dog induced numbness, but not enough to make him forget the danger. Never enough for that. If he let down his guard, even for a minute—
“They’re not hurting anyone,” somebody said.
“I don’t care . . . I don’t want them on my property. They’re scaring away the customers. Shoo ’em out of here, before I shitcan your ass.”
“You pay me to bus tables, not transients.”