Chapter Eight
Hudson
I’d nearly forgotten about my basketball game with Hayden today. We always go to the gym after work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Gracie has crowded everything else out of my mind. At least, that's my excuse for why Hayden handed me my ass today. Not that I can tell him so.
“Dude, where did your game go to die?” Hayden laughs as we get changed in the locker room after. He's been nice enough to remind me—several times—about how many matches I just lost. “What's with you lately?”
“Right now, it's the fact that you won't put your fucking pants on,” I reply. While I got dressed right away, he dawdled after his shower to keep making fun of me. There's several other men ambling around the locker room in their towels¸ but Hayden is the only one who's hovering near my bench seat, and I'd rather not deal with his crotch in my face anymore.
His kid sister, on the other hand... My mind conjures the image of Gracie wrapped in a towel, cheeks flushed from the hot water and hair clinging to her bare shoulders in dark tendrils. Just one flimsy layer of cloth separating me from her lithe body. I'd wrap my arms around her hips to pull her close, squeezing her firm, round ass, and the towel would slither to the floor. Then I'd work my tongue into her sweet...
I slam the brakes on that train of thought. A gym locker room is the absolute last place I want to get a boner. But making myself stop thinking about Gracie is easier said than done. In just a few days, she's worked her way under my skin.
“Seriously, man. I've hardly heard from you since we had drinks with Gracie last Friday. You bailed on that new club we were going to check out. Yesterday, I emailed you about Windsor Heights and you replied about Washington Gardens.” He gives me a sly look. “You find a new booty call or something?”
I almost knock my bag onto the gross wet floor. “The hell are you smoking?” I scoff, hoping I sound incredulous rather than caught red-handed. Gracie is hardly a booty call, but I can't let him even begin to suspect what's really going on. He'll sniff out the truth like a bloodhound. And then bite my head off.
Hayden shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Bros before hoes, dude. But I promise I won't be pissed...if you tell me who's been taking up all your free time.”
“I don't have a new woman,” I insist again, finger-combing my hair in quick, annoyed strokes. The guilty lie sits like something rotten in the bottom of my gut. “I've just been feeling tired.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands.
Keeping secrets from Hayden makes me feel like a complete asshole. He trusts me like a brother, and I'm lying to his face about fucking his sister. The whole situation is practically incest.
Maybe I should call things off with Gracie entirely. But the thought of never touching her again makes me feel so shitty. Even if we stayed friends afterward, it just wouldn't be the same. There would be a wall between us.
I discard the idea almost immediately. I can't help myself. I need to touch her again, at least one more time. Our secret rendezvous have to end soon anyway, so why not finish the job?
By the same token, saying, “I don't have a new woman” technically isn't even a lie. I don't have Gracie. Our arrangement is temporary. Two dates down, one to go—and then I have to set her free to live her own love life. With other men.
Gritting my teeth, I start tossing items in my gym bag, packing up to leave. But I pause when I pick up my phone and see that I have a text.
Gracie: Hey sexy :P what are you doing tonight?
I glance up to check where Hayden is. He's finally gone to his locker and started getting dressed, so I type back a quick response before he can see my screen.
Hudson: You, I hope. 8 at my place?
“I fucking knew it. Are you so pussy-whipped, you can't even wait to text her?”
My heart rate kicks up. I hit the power button to lock the screen just as Hayden tries to grab the phone out of my hand. “Look who's talking, dipshit,” I fire back, trying not to sound as panicked as I feel. If he saw Gracie’s name on that screen, or the text messages I’ve exchanged with her, he’d tear off my cock and feed it to me. Shoving him out of my personal space would help my mood, but it would also make him suspicious. “Emery's got you wrapped around her little finger.”
“That's different. She's my girlfriend, not my fuck buddy.”
“And we all know you're the world expert on how to treat women.” I drop my phone back into my pocket. That was kind of a low blow, but in place of the angry frown I expected, Hayden huffs a little chuckle. I guess Emery really is changing him; he can laugh at the idiot he used to be.
As he heads for the locker room door, my phone buzzes. I pull it out, just for a second, and read Gracie's reply: See you there. :)
I was never doing these “lessons” just for Gracie's benefit. But I never anticipated getting addicted to her so quickly. And now, no amount of guilt could ever outweigh my desire for her.
* * *
I go home to get ready for Gracie and kill time until she arrives. I take the wine out of the fridge and pour two glasses. I light a few candles, too, although I don't really know why—this isn't supposed to be romantic.
Gracie arrives ten minutes early, looking beautiful as always in a pink blouse and a pleated miniskirt that shows off her legs. It might be my imagination, but she seems even hotter than before we started sleeping together. More womanly, both mature and playful at the same time. She radiates confidence in her own sex appeal. Now she knows what she wants in the bedroom and she's comfortable enough to take it. Maybe I'm just on an ego trip here, but the thought that my instruction has helped her blossom...it feels pretty damn good.
Then the fact that this is our last evening together hits me. It'll be so hard to let her go after tonight. I can barely imagine never feeling her again. Never kissing her, pleasuring her...
Neither of us touch the wine I poured. We fall into each other, making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, barely able to drag ourselves apart long enough to get to the bedroom. She seems just as hungry for me as I am for her. Wanting to make the most of our last night. Could she feel the same way I do?
But I push that thought to the back of my mind when she asks, “Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?”
I never thought I'd hear that word pass Gracie's lips. And she barely hesitated, too. I feel almost proud. I can’t help but smirk. “We never did get around to that.” It's always too easy to get caught up in ravishing her and forget about the original point of these lessons. I nod down at the tent in my jeans. “Take me out first.”
She kneels down beside the bed and I spread my legs to make room for her. I hold myself still as she fumbles with the zipper and pulls out my cock, her eyes darkening with arousal. I groan quietly when she runs her thumb over the head, spreading precum over my most sensitive skin. Then she gives it an experimental lick, just to taste, and I shudder.
“Grip the base with one hand,” I instruct. “No, tighter than that...remember what I said before. You’re not going to break it.”
She looks up at me. “I thought I was sucking it?” Her annoyed tone is adorable.
“You are, don't worry. You'll need to work the shaft with your hand while you concentrate on the top with your mouth. I’m going to tell you how to do it just right.”
She looks back down at my cock, her gaze inquisitive, like she’s plotting out a novel. Her fist only covers its bottom half. I can see the gears in her head turning, considering the best way to coordinate her efforts. I almost want to laugh; I've never seen anyone stare at me so thoughtfully, or approach a blowjob with so much planning. But that might embarrass her.
“Don’t worry about trying to fit all of it in your mouth,” I add. I’m about to tell her that I’ll teach her how to deep-throat me another time, but then I remember there won’t be another time. Before I’m able to dwell on that, Gracie runs her fist up and down my cock, reminding me to continue. “I want you to take me in your mouth—be careful of your teeth—and move your head up and down. When you get comfortable with that, try wiggling your tongue and sucking, too.”
After another moment of assessment, Gracie goes for it. A long, low groan escapes me as she slides her mouth down over my cock. It’s so warm, so soft, and I curse under my breath. Letting my hand rest on top of her head, I stroke her silky dark hair, and admire the way it shines almost gold where it catches the light.
It takes her a minute to figure out the rhythm, but soon, she's bobbing her head up and down after her hand like a champ. I wonder if she's been watching any pornos as research. Fuck, that's a hot mental image. Maybe I should pick out a good “educational” movie for us to watch next time. No, wait—there won't be a next time. Goddammit. Why can't I make that fact stick?
“D-don't try to show off by taking too much,” I say, already starting to get a little unsteady. She's been a quick study so far, and this lesson is no exception. “No sense in gagging yourself.”
Gracie makes a little indignant hmph noise that's way too cute for someone with a mouth full of dick. I feel her tongue slide over my flesh; she's impatient to prove herself, move on to the next step. And oh, fuck, she remembers that sensitive spot under the head...
The sounds of her wet slurps and my heavy breathing fill the room. Her cheeks hollow with suction. In a few minutes my balls start tightening up against my body, warm pleasure swirling through my veins. “I'm going to come soon,” I warn her.
But instead of slowing down or stopping, she just hums loudly—where the hell did she learn that trick? My cock throbs at the vibration and I spurt into her mouth with a ragged groan. Her eyes widen, but she keeps sucking me off until I gasp, “Enough, baby.” She immediately pulls off with a wet pop.
As I come down from my high, I can't help chuckling at the stricken look on her face. She swallows with visible effort and reaches for the nightstand to knock back a drink of water.
“That's what jizz tastes like?” she exclaims, mouth drawn down and nose wrinkled. “So...ugh.”
Gracie fucking Oliver just drank down my come. Damn. “You're allowed to spit it out, you know. Or stop before I come.” I pet her hair. “Did you like doing it at least?”
She considers it and then gives me a shy smile. “Yeah. I liked making you feel good. Knowing that I made you lose control turned me on.”
Fuck...if she keeps talking like that, it won't take long before I'm hard again.
I help her up and back onto the bed. We lay on our sides and I pull her close, molding her body against mine, tasting myself in her kiss. I reach down—Jesus, she's soaking wet—and she gasps as my fingers slide over her swollen bud. I rub gently, enough to bring her closer to the edge but not nearly enough to push her over. I tease her clit until she's panting and rocking her hips into my hand, each breath edged with an urgent, keening note, and my cock is ready for action again.
I sit up, roll on a condom, and kneel between her legs. She wraps them around my waist, welcoming me. I slide in and her mouth opens in a soft moan, almost a hum of satisfaction. I'm suddenly very aware how big I am, and how small she looks under me. I'm almost a foot taller than her. She's so finely made, like a work of art. I know she's far from fragile. But though she's a spitfire sometimes, she's still soft and quiet deep down, and it shows when she's truly happy.
I draw my hips back and push in again, savoring the sight of that happiness spreading over her face. I vowed a long time ago that I would always protect Gracie. Make sure that life never hardened her all the way.
The very first children's book I'd left under her pillow was a fiftieth-anniversary edition of Ferdinand the Bull. When its stark red-and-black cover had caught my eye at the bookstore, I remembered the story I'd read in elementary school, which in turn reminded me of Gracie. Peaceful resistance—being true to herself, never getting mean or sour, but also never changing just for other people's sake. Even if that meant she felt out of place.
That afternoon, she ran down the stairs, her eyes lit up and cheeks glowing. Her family was getting ready to leave the house, their mom taking Hayden to some sports ceremony and their dad taking Beth to choir practice, leaving Gracie home alone again—I think she hated being alone, and she was left often. That’s what drove me to do something special in the first place, something just for her. Anyway, she walked straight over to me and wrapped her fingers around my thumb, squeezing a gentle thank you.
Our careful dance continued from that moment on. Every few times I came over, she'd walk through the kitchen and briefly grab my thumb as she passed by, our hands concealed by the counter. It was innocent, but we both knew it was still borderline inappropriate. Hayden wouldn’t have liked it. So, without ever explicitly agreeing on secrecy, we did it where no one could see. Our own little moment, stolen here and there.
Well, Hayden sure as fuck wouldn't like this moment either. Me, rocking in and out of Gracie, spurring her cries of ecstasy louder and louder, feeling her body grasp me like she never wants to let go. Me, his best friend, slowly but surely...
Falling in love with his precious baby sister.
Her sapphire eyes blink up at mine, and worried she’s going to see too much, I break our connection. “Turn over. On your hands and knees,” I growl.