Sting (17 page)

I toss her in the middle of her bed and sit the plate on the nightstand. She giggles, and then sighs, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she takes in laboured breaths.

“Strip,” I order, as I shed my T-shirt, boardies and boxers as quickly as I can rip them from my body.

Willow shimmies out of her shorts and G-string, and then puts her knees together and sits up to peel off her top. Once it’s over her head, she throws it at me.

I scan the room, checking out the slatted timber bedhead. There are a good couple of inches between each slat—plenty of room to use one as an anchor.

“Grab the bedhead, and don’t let go,” I warn.

“What if I don’t want to hang on?”

“I need you still. Trust me, Blondie. You’re gonna need something to hold onto because your sexy arse is about to squirm like mad.”

Willow moves up the bed and lies back. She raises her arms and curls her fingers between the bottom two slats of wood.
It’s as if her bed were made for this.

I straddle her, sitting gently on her hips. I reach back and push her knees further apart.

She resists a little at first, then opens them nice and wide. “That’s it. No need to be shy. I’m about to get real intimate here.”

She stares at the swollen head of my cock and licks her lips. I’ve got a right mind to slap some pie on the end of it and let her suck it off. Maybe later. Right now, I can’t wait to have my mouth all over her.

I dip my finger into the filling, and probe it between her parted lips. My mouth waters as she takes it in, her eager tongue wrapping around my digit as she provides the perfect amount of suction.

Sweet suffering fuck.

I take a larger scoop of the meringue topping, and rub some on each of her hardened dark pink nipples.

Willow moans and squirms as I greedily make my way from breast to breast, baring teeth and sucking hard. A dollop of the lemon filling on her swollen clit is the final dessert destination.

I couldn’t be hungrier. Or happier.

“Should I, ah, keep going?” I lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses over her stomach. Her muscles clench beneath my lips. I make a trail with my finger down to her pussy, and lightly brush the soft skin of her inner thigh.

She makes a noise low in her throat, then places both hands on my shoulders and pushes me down south.
I think someone else is just as hungry.

I’m presuming that whatever that noise was, it meant yes.

I kneel between her outstretched legs, and lift her hips so the backs of her thighs rest on my shoulders.

Burying my head between her legs, I eat Willow, swirling and sucking relentlessly at her sensitive flesh. It’s an intoxicating combination of sweet pussy and pie.
This is some fucking dessert.

As the shaking in her leg muscles intensifies, her thighs box my head between her legs. She tugs my hair between her fingers as she grips my scalp in her small hands.

“Sweet, oh, Ry—”

Her next words are garbled. She bucks her hips, and cries out. As her pussy pulses against my lips, I draw out the last of her orgasm by sucking her clit, hard.

I shrug her legs off my shoulders, and they flop to the bed with no resistance.

“Is there any pie left?” she asks, breathless and in some kind of daze. Her eyes roll back in her head and then she opens them again and tries to focus on my face.

“Think so,” I mutter, and graze my teeth over her pebbled nipple.

Willow presses a sweaty open palm to my chest and pushes me away. She twists onto her side and nods her head to the other side of the bed. “Lie back. It’s your turn.”

I hope the fact I’m about to blow in record time won’t be held against me.

I lie back, plump up the pillow and link my fingers together behind my head.

She nudges my knees apart with hers and sits back on her heels. Her small hand wraps around my cock.

“Hold the bedhead,” she says, and draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I think I can control myself.”

She angles her head to the side, and bats her dark lashes. “Do I have to tie you up?”

Hmm. I’m not opposed to trying that shit
. Seeing Willow tied up, legs spread and ready for me, would be enough to bring me to my knees.

I grip the bedhead, exactly how she did. “Another time perhaps.”

With a dirty grin, she spreads some dessert over the engorged tip and down my shaft. I twitch my cock. She gasps, taken aback, then grins like crazy.

Before I know it, her eager mouth is on me. Her hot tongue explores my length, the moans from her mouth driving me closer to orgasm.

What Willow lacks in rhythm, she makes up for in enthusiasm. It’s like she has a new toy she adores, and she’s working out exactly how to handle it. I don’t think she can make up her mind whether to be gentle or rough. It’s cute as hell, and the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.

I grip the bedhead tighter and watch her intently as she guides me deeper into her mouth. What a beautiful sight.

She gags, but persists.
Don’t fucking laugh.

My thigh muscles twitch. My balls tighten.

When she glances up at me, my cock in her mouth and those baby blues full of desire, it’s my undoing.

“I’m gonna come,” I grunt out, gripping the bedhead. Does she want me to come in her mouth or onto my stomach?

She sucks harder and pumps her hand faster up and down my shaft.
Guess there’s my answer.

As my orgasm rips through me, Willow moves her hand up and down slowly, squeezing out every last drop. She sits back on her heels and swallows hard. She shudders, and a sleepy smile curls at her lips.

“My pie tastes better on you,” she says, her voice husky from swallowing
. Oh, man.
She places her palms on my chest, my heart hammering to a crazy beat against her fingers.

“Was it okay?” she whispers.

I glance up at her eager eyes, which are waiting for an answer.

“It was better than ‘okay’. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I just, well, I never …”

Wow.

“No one’s ever come in that pretty mouth?” Damn, I might just beat my fists caveman-style on my chest.
I was there first, fuckers.

She jerks her head from side to side.

She’s so eager to please me. Enthusiasm goes a long fucking way—in fact, it beats experience any damn day of the week.

Snaking my hand around the nape of her neck, I pull her close, kissing her tenderly on the lips. Our foreheads meet.

“It was perfect,” I assure her.

****

After a long, hot shower, soaping each other up, any sticky remnants are long gone. I collapse into bed after her and draw her close, our fronts flush as we lie on our sides. Willow rests her head on my outstretched arm. Our legs tangle together, and we both sigh, like total girls.

As we lie in silence, the bedside lamp casts a dim stream of light, highlighting the freckles dotted across her nose and the healthy blush to her cheeks.

The niggling feeling in my gut resurfaces, like bacteria festering there. Call it the protector in me, but I need Willow to know that I’m here for her. Not just in the physical sense.

I need to test the waters. Find out if my suspicions are right.

“He won’t hurt you again. I won’t let it happen.” I swear he won’t get the chance.

She stiffens in my arms, and her eyes widen. The look in her eyes is akin to that of a scared rabbit.

“What? How?” she whispers.

I comb my fingers through her hair, and swirl them at the nape of her neck. She relaxes a little but glances downward, focusing on my chest. I tilt her chin upwards with my crooked finger.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just sayin’ I care, Willow. I’m one of the good guys.”
You can
trust me
.

A hint of a smile now.
Thank fuck
. “You are, huh?”

“Yup. I’m pretty sure the bad guys don’t go around sprucing that.”

“No, but they’re good at putting on a front,” she blurts out. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, as if she regrets saying it.

Should I press her further about this? It’s clearly a sensitive topic.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to say it like that, like I’m accusing you of not being a good guy, it’s just—”

I press my finger to her lips. “Shush. I take good care of my
friends
, Blondie. That’s a promise.”

“You still see me as a friend?” Her lips quirk to one side.

“Absolutely. We can be friends as well as lovers.” Something new to me, but so far, so fucking good. “If I had an ounce of energy left, I’d further assure you exactly how I can take care of you.”

She runs her finger over the five-day growth on my chin, that’s starting to itch like crazy. “If I wasn’t about to pass out from exhaustion, I’d let you.”

“That’s my girl.”

Good
. We have some kind of understanding. Her past is still unclear, but at least she knows where I stand.

I kiss her goodnight, and she rolls over. As I spoon her, a wave of contentment washes over me while I drift off to sleep.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

WILLOW

After giving the plants a good soak before I drive in to work, I turn off the hose and loop it around the hose reel. It’s been four weeks, and my garden is flourishing.
So are my feelings for Ryan.

I can’t take all the credit for the healthy state my garden is in, because I know for a fact that Ryan sneaks here during the day. The ground is always damp beneath the straw, and in this summer heat it should be bone-dry by the end of the day. It never is. Instead, our plants are growing just like the weeds used to on my watch. I know it’s weird to call them ours, but they are
our
plants. It’s a team effort going on here.

It’s a beautiful thing to see something grow from a little seedling to something strong, capable of bearing fruit, or vegetables, as the case may be.

Ryan and I have spent as much time together as we can, which sometimes is only a couple of hours here or there. The café is always extra busy with tourists in the Christmas holidays, and Ryan and Mick seem to be working all the time. Sometimes it’s early morning starts, other times it’s late nights. I guess like any business, working for a charter company is hard work. Any time we spend together is a blessing. My gentle giant makes me laugh, makes my body sing, and above all, he’s given me the hope that I can have a normal life, and have someone special to share it with.

You’d think all of this combined would improve my mood, and it has, but today it won’t lift it. In fact, it’s made it worse.

Today is not a good day. Once upon a time it was something I looked forward to, counted down the days until. It meant something. A celebration of life, and family. Not anymore. Today, I’m not supposed to even acknowledge. There’s another date I’m supposed to go with. The one
they
gave me.

He took this day away from me.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Gabs chirps as I come in through the now not-squeaky-anymore back door.
Thanks, Ryan.
“You know, I almost thought something was wrong with that door this morning,” she says and chuckles.

“What do you mean?” I ask, putting my keys and phone down on the sandwich counter.

“Too quiet. I thought I’d come into the wrong shop in the alleyway.”

“Ryan came by last night and fixed it.” Pride blooms in my chest. I have a man now who can fix things.
Fix me, perhaps.

“Sounds like that man is good with those hands.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. “Yeah, he is.”

Gabs straightens the sandwiches on display and I busy myself prepping the coffee machine. Not even ten minutes later, Ryan strolls in.

“Ladies,” he says, when he reaches the counter.

“Good morning,” we both chime together.

“You look tired,” I offer, once I take in his shabbier-than-normal appearance. His eyes are a little bloodshot, and the bags under them have darkened.

“Nothing a good coffee won’t fix. I’d better get one for Mick, too.” He winks, and rewards me with a flash of that dimple. “Sorry, I was gonna text you when I got home last night, but I literally face-planted on the bed and didn’t move all night.”

“That’s okay. I just watched a movie and crashed myself.”

He tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes. “
Sweet Home Alabama,
again?”

I smirk. “How’d you know?”

“Educated guess. Do I need to be worried about this Jake fella? You seem to spend a whole lot of time with him when I’m not around.”

I shake my head. “No.” The thing is, every time I’ve watched it lately, Jake is reminding me more of Ryan. Once upon a time it was the other way around.

“What is it about chicks and guys who can fly planes?” he asks.

“That’s not the attraction.” It’s the whole hard-working, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve kind of vibe. Of course, the fact that he has a smoking body doesn’t hurt either.

“My sister would disagree. She’s head over heels in love with a commercial pilot. Anyways, I’m not here to chat about your man on the side. Do you know what you’re doing later?” Ryan asks, a glimmer of naughtiness in his eyes.

“No.” Okay, so that tone in my voice is a lot harsher than I’d intended. In a perfect world, I know what I’d be doing.
Eating cake with my family
.

“Well, luckily, I do,” he says, cocky as anything.

With a firm hand on my hip, I challenge him with a glare. “And what’s that?”

Lighten up, huh?
I really need to shake this dark mood.

“You’ll find out what we’re doin’, when we’re doin’ it. Pick you up from your place, at six thirty?”

“Yeah, okay.”

I draw a love-heart with black pen on his large takeaway cup, fill it up with a strong blend and pass it to him. Mick doesn’t get the same kind of love on his cup, instead receiving a quick scrawl that looks like a happy face, but is more a pout.
Probably looks more like my expression.