Chapter Twenty-four
Gemma spent the next several days keeping busy. She wanted to see Saxon, but his truck was constantly gone until late every night. She'd texted him a few times, but his curt responses hadn't encouraged her to pursue more conversation.
She'd hurt him. She hadn't meant to, she wasn't even sure exactly how she'd hurt him, but she had. With him being unwilling to talk, she had no idea how to fix it.
During the day, she baked, stocking both the Dockside Diner and Chez Bourgeois Café. The town Summer Kickoff Festival was coming this weekend, and she'd been asked to supply some of the food. A couple of orders for birthday cakes had also trickled in, and she gladly fit those projects in between her other work.
In the evening, she sat with Aunt Beth, pretending nothing was wrong. They watched TV, chatted, sipped hot tea and reminisced about all the summers they'd spent just like this.
But this visit was different. Gemma's laughs were fake, her smiles only on the surface.
She missed Saxon—his easygoing grins, his rock-steady support, and his hot, tender kisses. On top of that, the bakery remained as they'd left it—an unfinished construction zone unfit for human occupation.
With just over a week until the tourist season began in earnest, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to keep her aunt's dreams alive.
She was letting Aunt Beth down. Little by little, she was failing to take care of the one person who'd always cared for her.
Aunt Beth shuffled off to bed early, as was her habit after decades of waking early to open the Rise and Shine. Gemma knew before she even went to her bedroom that sleep wouldn't come. She'd stare at her ceiling, worrying, angsting, stressing, planning and re-planning.
She couldn't do this again—spend another sleepless night wondering how she was going to make everything work out when so little of it was within her power.
This home had always been her solace, but it felt more like a prison now—a sleepless, stressful, anxiety-inducing prison.
She padded around the house for a while, tidying things and making sure that no tripping hazards were lying around. The picture window was still boarded up—it's replacement on order—so she parted the curtains on the little window in the front door and stared at Saxon's house.
His truck was in the driveway. A light was on inside.
He was home, so close she could almost smell the warm, wild scent of his skin.
An ache formed deep in her belly—a physical emptiness to go with her stress and fatigue.
A light in his kitchen turned on, and the proof of his presence was almost overpowering. Was he hungry? She hadn't been taking him meals, even though she'd missed cooking for him. He liked everything, and her efforts were always rewarded with praise and gratitude. If he'd given her even the slightest warmth, she would have kept feeding him. As it was, her questions about what he'd like for dinner had been returned with curt responses.
I'm busy tonight. Not hungry. Eating out.
After three attempts, she'd quit trying, finally taking his hint that he didn't want her to feed him anymore.
Gemma stared at his house, wishing she could see him. Even just watching him would ease her mind and relax her body. She was sure of it.
She'd been able to sleep over there. With him. She didn't know why, but he had a calming effect on her, making her feel like she wasn't completely alone.
She needed that. But even more, she needed him.
The only time she'd forgotten about her problems had been in his arms. When he'd kissed her and set her body on fire, she'd been free. Safe.
Gemma wasn't a fool. She knew that showing up at his front door in the middle of the night was an implied booty call, but she didn't care. She needed that too.
Sex would definitely take the edge off her stress. Sex with Saxon would rock her world until stress was no longer a concept she even remembered.
She didn't stop to think about how it would look to any nosey neighbors who might be watching, or how Aunt Beth would feel knowing her niece was sneaking out to fuck the man who mowed her lawn. Gemma simply slipped outside and jogged across the street until she was standing on his front porch.
He opened the door without her knocking on it, like he'd been waiting for someone.
"Are you okay?" he asked, her welfare always his first concern, though she had no idea why.
"I want you," she said, her words as blunt as the need squirming in her abdomen.
He stared at her for a long minute, as if debating whether or not to let her in. "Desire or convenience?" he asked.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Are you here to blow off steam in my bed, or because you actually like me?"
What man turned down sex like that?
She was so taken aback, her tone was sharp. "Does it matter?"
His gaze traveled up and down her body, taking in her thin cotton pajama shorts and tank top covered in tiny clusters of red cherries. Her hair was knotted on her head, the way it always was for bed, and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup.
Maybe she wasn't sexy enough for him. Heaven knew that the Grace men could get any woman they wanted.
Maybe he didn't want her.
But back in the bakery…. He'd wanted her then. She hadn't imagined his raging hard-on or the way he'd fucked her against the wall like he'd die if he couldn't have her.
"No," he finally said. "I guess it doesn't matter."
Saxon stepped out of the way, his demeanor shifting in an odd direction, going darker and more predatory than his usual easy-going self. "Get in."
She stepped inside.
He locked the door behind her and barred it with his body.
"Strip."
***
Saxon hated that he couldn't resist Gemma.
He'd thought that if he kept his distance, she might decide that she missed him. That she actually liked his company. But his plan had backfired.
He'd missed her like crazy, spending way too much of his time distracted with thoughts of her and what she might be doing. He constantly wondered where she was, if she was safe, if she was happy.
She'd texted him a few times, but he hadn't done more than offer brief replies because he wanted to give her a reason to come see him. Talk to him.
He'd been a fool.
She'd shown up again, but it hadn't been for talk. She was here for sex.
If that's all this relationship was going to be, then fine. He was going to milk it for all it was worth.
Saxon was going to fuck her like he'd never fucked a woman before.
He shut the door behind her and twisted the deadbolt home. The idea of locking her in his cave appealed to him, and he could feel the dark smile that curled his mouth.
She stood there, in his living room, uncertain.
He was tired, hungry and sore from pushing himself at work. Even his men had commented that he was snapping at them—something he never did.
His tone was like that now. Cold, hard. "Why are you still dressed?" he asked. "Did you come here to fuck or not?"
Was it his imagination, or did she flinch slightly at his crude words? He couldn't tell, nor did he bother asking. She didn't want conversation with him, so he wouldn't offer one.
She gave a jerky nod.
"Then strip. Unless you'd rather just uncover the fun bits and get to the main act faster?"
"Are you angry at me?" she asked.
"No." Which was the truth. He was confused. Hurt. Frustrated. But not angry.
"Then kiss me."
He couldn't deny her request, not even in his dark mood. Hell, he couldn't deny her anything, and that was the problem. All she had to do was ask, and if it was in his power to give, it would be hers.
But she didn't ask—not for help, or support or companionship.
Just sex.
Saxon prowled across the small space between them and took her in his arms. She stiffened slightly for a second, but the moment his mouth met hers, every muscle in her body melted.
That was what he wanted, what he craved. He wanted her soft and happy in his arms. He wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile. He wanted to be the one who had the power to bring her joy and ease her pain.
He was asking too much, and he knew it.
His tongue forced past her lips to sweep in for a taste. She was sweet, with a hint of chocolate lingering on her tongue.
Her response to his kiss was fast and hot, like wildfire in a wind. She kissed him back, her movements hungry and frantic, as if she couldn't get enough of him.
The idea went to his head and his cock, making both swell.
He knew which would be satisfied when this was all said and done, but kept that thought suppressed, where it wouldn't screw up what little time he would have with her.
She tugged at his clothes, her short fingernails scraping slightly across his skin. With each fevered kiss, they bared another bit of skin. His, hers. Soon they were a pair scrambling madly toward nudity.
When she was fully naked, he picked her up and toted her to the bedroom, setting his caveman side free. His condoms were in there, along with a nice soft surface where he could pound hard into her slim body without fear of hurting her.
He tossed her onto the bed. She bounced once, then sat up.
Saxon grabbed her hips, flipped her over onto her stomach, and then lifted her up so her ass was in the air. Seconds later, he was covered in a condom, sliding into her all the way in one smooth stroke.
Gemma stilled. Let out a small, high noise. Almost a whimper.
For a second, he thought he'd hurt her. Moved too soon, before she was ready for him.
The wet heat of her pussy told him otherwise. She was more than ready.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice raspy and rough.
"Full."
"Good. That's the way I like you."
And then he started to move.
There was no gentleness in his movements. He slammed into her, over and over, greeted by her increasingly louder cries of pleasure.
She pushed herself upright, arching her back against his chest. He covered her tits with his hands, pinching her nipples between his rough fingers.
Her sudden intake of breath told him she liked it. Her writhing hips drove him crazy.
She was so fucking sexy. So tight and hot and eager. Wanton.
He held her upright with his arm while he slid a hand down to her pussy. He parted her labia to find her clit, then rolled it between his finger and thumb.
She came hard and fast, responding to his touch like they'd been together for years with no secrets between them.
Her pussy fluttered around his cock. Hot wetness trickled out of her, slickening his balls.
One more trio of thrusts and he knew he'd come, but he stopped, unwilling for it to end so soon.
He pulled out of her, guided her onto her back, where she lay panting and flushed.
"You're going to come for me again," he told her.
"Can't," she said between heavy breaths. "I can only come once."
He didn't say anything to her ridiculous claim. Instead, he decided to show her how wrong she was.
Saxon slid his cock back into her body, already thinking of it as home. He pulled her knees high and spread them wide, forcing her body to open for him. He could already tell she liked it deep, and he was going to oblige.
He took his time, gauging his movements to her responses. A little catch of her breath here, a widening of her eyes there…. She gave him all the clues he needed to get her body to comply to his will.
If Gemma herself wouldn't give him what he needed, he was damn well going to get her pussy to obey.
Sweat beaded along his back. His own need to come was raging inside him, making his balls swell and his heart pound.
He was in control of himself. He would not come until she did. Period.
Saxon had to slow his pace a couple of times to regain control and pull back from the brink of orgasm. Never since he was a teen—when the sight of a curvy tree was all it took to turn him on—had he been this challenged to keep from popping off too early. But with Gemma, he was riding the edge of control, struggling to hold back inside the sweet grip of her slick, wet pussy.
He saw her orgasm building in her eyes before he felt it in her body. Surprise, perhaps a little fear of going where she'd never been before. He didn't know and refused to care. He did, however, need to distract her before her thoughts barred her from the goal.
Saxon bent his body low enough to kiss her while his hips worked. He eased one hand between them to find her clit, then flicked his fingertip over it the way he flicked his tongue across hers.
That's all it took to send her soaring.
She screamed into his mouth, the sound a mix of pleasure and surprise.
Saxon let go and gave into his own orgasm. The power of it blinded him. He couldn't catch his breath. All he could do was grind himself against her, plunging deep while he emptied himself in hot, blinding waves.
Her body went lax. Only her chest moved heavily as she worked to catch her breath.
Saxon wanted to stay just like this, but as full as the condom was, he didn't dare risk it.
He didn't even know if she was on the pill, which only served to remind him how little she'd shared with him.
He rolled onto his back. Overhead the ceiling fan swirled in a lazy circle, cooling their sweaty bodies.
"That was…amazing," she said. "Twice."
A sense of pride rippled through him that he could do what no other man had. "I knew you had it in you."
"Only with you, Saxon."
He lifted onto his elbow, searching her face for some hidden meaning. Was she talking about her second orgasm, or was there more to it than that?
All he saw was her wide yawn and sleepy smile. "Thank you."
From one second to the next, she was asleep.
Saxon got up, cleaned up and went back to the bed. He thought about waking her up and sending her home, but decided against it. She was clearly exhausted. Besides, he liked having her close like this.
He slipped her under the covers and crawled in beside her.
Gemma may not have wanted anything more from him than sex, but when he held her like this, he was able to pretend otherwise.