Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin (Big Sky Boyfriends #2)

Chapter 17

17

Before I had a chance to think about that, he moved on top of me, one leg nudged between mine, spreading my thighs so he could settle between. He placed his forearms on either side of my head so our faces were close, so close I could feel his warm breath, see the dark flecks in his blue eyes.

I saw him clearly in that moment—his frustration with the person he'd become. The boy he used to be. The man I knew he really was.

I wanted it all. I ran my calf up and down his thigh. “Jack, please.”

He lowered his head to mine, kissed me and I forgot everything but the two of us in this moment. He plunged his tongue into my mouth. His hands roamed my body, never stopping as if he were afraid I might disappear. I all but melted into the bed, his body so hot above me, his touch setting little fires everywhere his hands moved. He nibbled at my ear, my neck, my shoulder, lower to lick one hard nipple, then the other. Opening his mouth, he sucked on one, pulling it taut. A zing of pleasure shot to my core, and I felt wetness coat my thighs.

“This isn't the girl's body you wanted at seventeen,” I said breathlessly, worried I might be lacking. My frayed robe and wet hair hadn't made me the alluring siren.

He looked up at me from my breast. He flicked his tongue over the tight tip once, smiled like a Cheshire Cat. “I know.” He moved his head lower pressing kisses to my abdomen, my hip bone, and then moving to the center, blew out a hot breath against me there. “I bet that girl wouldn't have let me do this.”

And then, spreading my thighs, cupping my butt with both hands, he pressed his mouth to me, his tongue darting out and circling me, up one side and down the other. Two fingers dipped in, moved in some magical way, and I exploded. Pleasure seeped into every cell of my body, hot fire racing through my veins. I cried out his name, my head thrown back against the pillow.

Jack kept his mouth on me as I kept falling, falling forever. He didn't stop until I lay limp and sweaty, replete.

I chuckled as he started kissing his way back up my sweat-slicked body. “You're right. That girl didn't even know what that was,” I said.

He grabbed my hips and rolled us so he was on the bottom, I, on top. I adjusted my legs to straddle his thighs, looked down at him. “Veronica, seeing you this way, you're my undoing.”

His hair was tousled, his skin hot under my palms. The crinkly hair on his chest was soft to the touch. “Ride me. I want to see your pleasure when you come again.”

I looked into his eyes, saw everything there. Us.

I reached down between us and took him in my hand. He was big, and oh so hot to the touch. Smooth and so hard. Stroking him once, twice, Jack groaned and bucked his hips.

“Miller,” he begged. I grabbed the condom and slid it on him. Jack placed his shaking hands on top of mine to guide me.

I lifted my hips, held him in one palm and directed him into me. Slowly, slowly I slid down until he was deep within me. “Reid,” I cried out. I felt so full, so complete. He did fit. Perfectly.

He grabbed hold of my hips, lifted me, and then drove me back down onto him. “Tell me not to stop,” he said, his voice rough with need, his skin damp from his exertions.

My hands mindlessly went to my breasts and I pulled on my nipples, feeling my body open, get wetter for him. “Don't stop!”

He didn't. Jack drove me to the brink of another orgasm, then slowed his movements, then took me up again. This time, he reached between us and touched me. That one brush of his thumb set me off. I came again as Jack surrendered to his own pleasure.

We fell asleep, our bodies entwined, sheets tangled about us. I woke twice in the night, the first time with Jack buried deep within me, his hips moving in incredibly slow motion, my orgasm building just as slowly. The second, Jack spooned me, his front to my back. He'd lifted one of my legs on top of his and his fingers were slipping into me, around and over all the crucial spots before sliding his hard length into me from behind. We didn’t need toys or kink.

We didn't move from my bed the next day other than to go to the door to pay the pizza delivery man. Having a new kitchen was great, but there was absolutely nothing to eat in the cabinets or fridge. Since Jack's plane wasn't until after dinner, we spent the day completing only the most important tasks. Sex and more sex.

I was insatiable. I couldn't get enough of Jack, his scent, the feel of his skin, his taste, the weight of his body pinning me beneath him. His hot mouth on mine, on other places. Having him deep within me.

Jack drove me with a need that I recognized partially as desperation. He knew he was leaving, but didn't know what he would face on his return to Florida.

Both of us clung to the time alone together, hiding from the world in my remodeled home.

Eventually, the world intruded in the form of a phone call from Goldie.

“Bring the gnome,” she said. No 'hello', not 'It's me, Goldie'.

“Tonight?” I asked, breathless. Jack was trailing his hot mouth down my back as I leaned across the bed for my cell.

“Yes. Zach wants it back, and I'll be seeing him in the morning.”

“Sure, no problem.” Goose bumps rose on my skin as he kissed, then licked one dimple, then the other, at the base of my spine.

“Don't let me keep you from your muse. Or what he's doing to you,” Goldie said with a chuckle, and then hung up.

I rolled my eyes as Jack flipped me over and smiled down at me with that little upturned corner of his mouth, desire in his eyes. I forgot all about Goldie and George the Gnome for another hour.

Eventually, grudgingly, and with a sad heart, I had to go to Goldilocks for work, and Jack soon after to the airport. He drove me in his rental car, both of us quiet on the way, and walked into the store. I tried to put his departure out of my mind, but it was impossible. It was painful to breathe, to take a step knowing he'd soon be gone. I'd once wished he'd fly away, get as far from me as possible. Boy, had I been wrong.

After only a few short days, my life had changed. Drastically. I'd put Jack Reid out of my mind as best I could for ten years, only popping up occasionally to wonder where he was, what he was doing. Or to wonder, imagine 'what if' scenarios.

What if Jack had really wanted me instead of Violet? What if he hadn't left town?

Now I knew all the answers, to every question. And it hurt. Hurt knowing I’d had him just for one night, knowing he loved me and had showed me just how much, with every brush of his hand over my body, with every look, with every whispered endearment.

The worst of it was knowing we had wasted ten years. Ten years of living without each other. And now, I didn't know when I'd see him again. We'd said our 'I love you's', but that didn't mean he was coming back, that we were more than these past few days.

He had to go. I knew it, grudgingly accepted it. Okay, not really resolved, but at least understood. Didn't mean I had to like it.

Goldie smiled at both of us from her perch behind the counter. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She waggled her eyebrows at us. I rolled my eyes at her in return, no doubt I had a just fucked flush to my cheeks. I looked around the room, three customers. Not bad for after a snowstorm.

“Here,” I told her, placing George the Gnome on the counter, facing him out so he could survey the store. His cheeky smile now called out to me, 'Way to go!'

I patted the ceramic garden gnome on the top of his pointy hat. “Now, I'm gnomeless.”

A customer came up to the counter. She was in her early thirties, bundled up against the weather in heavy coat, hat, and snow boots. “Can I get this wrapped?” she asked Goldie, handing over a pocket pussy.

“Sure thing. Something for your husband?” Goldie asked.

Goldie was good at making small talk. She picked up on clues from all of the customers. In this case, it was the honking large diamond on the woman’s left ring finger. Even I couldn't miss that one.

Customer smiled. “He's going on a business trip to Texas. He'll need something to relieve some of his stress while I'm not there.”

Goldie nodded her agreement. “Good choice. A pocket pussy is a great way for a man to masturbate, and it's small enough to travel with.”

The device looked like a flashlight with a silicone replica of a woman's downstairs at one end. A man could stick his erection in it and simulate having sex. Obviously, I hadn't tried it, but I guess it worked if they were moving off the shelves.

“Do you have something for yourself while he's gone?”

The customer nodded and said, “Christmas present.” She pointed to the glass case filled with high-end dildos.

“Good to hear. Come back before your husband's next trip and you and I can pick out something else that's special.” Goldie winked as she handed over the bag with the fancy tissue sticking out the top.

The customer beamed at Goldie, handed her three twenties. “All right, I will.”

“Tell him to have a safe—and fun—trip.” Goldie handed over the change.

Jack had taken to checking out the displays of fur lined handcuffs during this exchange. The tips of his ears were red. Interesting.

“So, Jack. Into handcuffs, are you?” Goldie asked.

He put the hardware down with a clatter and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. Like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He cleared his throat.

“I'm more interested in handcuffs than”—he pointed his finger toward the door where the woman just left—“the thing that woman got.”

Goldie nodded, tilted her head down to stare intently at Jack over her reading glasses. “A pocket pussy. It's for a guy who is all alone .” She had that furry angora sweater on again, little motes of fluff lifted off and floated in the air around her when she moved. “I heard you're leaving tonight.”

Her lack of subtlety was not lost on me and I enjoyed watching Jack squirm. He could never work in an adult store if he couldn't say the words 'pocket pussy' out loud.

“Yes, ma'am. I've got things to take care of back in Florida.”

“We sure will miss?—”

The door slammed open, cutting off Goldie's words. There, backlit by the brightness of the late afternoon sun and a half foot of snow, stood Lorraine. She hobbled in, shoving the door shut behind her, a cold breeze whooshing over us. She looked worse than I'd ever seen her.