Chapter Nineteen

Cake and Countertops

Grayson

After a few shots, I feel a little less like the man I don’t want to be. The man who fucking fools himself into believing that Mandee Carlin, first girl who got me off, first girl who I thought I could be friends with, first girl who I kissed for more than a second or two, and the first girl who I went down on, was possibly a girl I could fall for.

I don’t want that for her. She’s too fucking good for that bullshit. Too good to waste love on me.

Fucking stars seem to align, though. She has my cat. Well, not mine, but the cat who wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone for a solid month. Hell, maybe more. First animal I ever got attached to, and then I was convinced the crazy fucker fell in the lake, but he didn’t. He followed her out of the woods, and she took care of his ornery ass.

Do I want to fall in love? It doesn’t last, but friendship, brotherhood, family—that kind of thing—lasts. I’m content on keeping her that way, while still fucking her the way I want...until I can put some distance between us and hope, while I’m gone, she would find someone who isn’t so fucked up to waste that kind of thing on.

“This friends with benefits thing gonna work for you?” I ask, making sure she wasn’t toying around with the same foolish notions I was having.

She nods. “I’d really like to be your friend.”

“But you also like me licking your—”

“Yeah, well, of course,” she says, closing her eyes.

“Would it be out of line to ask you about shit I want to know?” I ask.

“Like what?” She looks up.

“I don’t know. Like how old were you when you fucked for the first time?”

“You really want to know that?” she asks, sounding a little confused.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Um, like, eighteen.”

“Who was the lucky guy who busted your cherry?”

She shrugs. “High school boyfriend.”

“How long did you date before you fucked him?” I take another drink, hoping maybe I will stop wondering about that and just get back to licking...that.

“A couple years.”

“Years?” I ask, nearly spitting out the Jack.

She nods and looks down. “Mom was sick. I just didn’t...you know?”

“Yeah. So, what made you finally give in? Was he hung or something?”

She closes her eyes. “He had been sleeping with someone else, and I found out. He said it was because I wasn’t meeting his needs. So, I gave in.”

“Wait. I may not know shit about relationships, but you fucked him after finding out he cheated on you?”

“Stupid, I know. All the shrinks they made me see after Mom died said that because of her illness through my formative years, I was lacking in social skills.” She shakes her head and silently gives a laugh, mocking herself.

Pisses me off to see that.

“Who the fuck said that to you? A shrink?”

Her face starts to turn red, and her eyebrows knit slightly. “It wasn’t all wrong. I did. I tried to.” She pauses and sighs. “It was hard on everyone around to see her suffer. She smiled through it all. When she was in pain, I was asked to leave the room, or go to the store.” This time she laughs out loud and looks up. “So, yeah, I made a crappy choice and several more after that.”

“You made a choice trying to make them happy, which isn’t your fucking job, Mandee. You should have been able to fucking trust a boyfriend. Friends...fuck, anyone to help keep you together and let you fucking fall apart.” I feel my blood pressure rising. “It wasn’t your fucking fault. You trusted the adults in your life, and obviously what the fuck do they know? You’re not fucking invincible.”

I take a step toward her and lift her chin. “That fucker didn’t deserve you. Those pieces of shit at your college, they should be walking with a limp for what they did to you. And Blue and the rest of these assholes who think they’re protecting you from assholes like me, they should look a little fucking deeper and see you...you as a fucking woman who needs a goddamn man in her life to do all those damn things your body wants and guard possibly the sweetest heart I have ever met in my life. You’ve fucking come through all that, and still, you smile. Fuck them.”

“Fuck them,” she whispers.

I don’t like how that sounds one bit, so I clarify, “Well, not fuck them, but FUCK THEM.”

Her eyes cast down a bit, leaving mine. “I know, Gray, I know.”

She rests her hands on my hips, and it dawns on me that I don’t give a fuck that she’s touching me. I like it. Fuck that. I crave it, and fuck if I don’t want to hate it.

“Blue told you about...” She pauses.

I nod and put my hands over hers, guiding them up my body really fucking slowly.

“Is that why—”

“No more fucking talk about him. The others, fuck them all,” I whisper, because saying it any louder may give hope in a truly hopeless situation, to both of us.

“Fuck them,” she whispers. Her hands now move on their own, stopping just above my chest. She curls her fingers around my shoulders, and I look down to see her hands resting over the inked wings. The look on her face is almost sad, almost wistful, almost pained.

“And fuck them, too,” she whispers as she looks up.

I immediately pull her closer, ass in hand, and take her lips. I turn as I pull her up and sit her on the kitchen island.

“Fuck everything but cake,” I tell her as I push that sweater off her shoulders.

She pulls her arms out then grabs my shoulders harder this time. I like that, too. Then she pulls me in and kisses me.

Her lips grab mine and she sucks. Then she pulls my lower lip out with her teeth.

I love the way she tastes, smells, but fuck if I don’t want to taste her with cake.

I reach over as I kiss her and blindly feel for the plate, sink two fingers in it, and scoops some out.

As I lean back, she closes her eyes, and I swear she gives a little disappointed sigh. And yeah, I like that, too.

I rub the cake on her lips, and she smiles and opens her eyes as I lean in, licking the white buttercream frosting and red velvet cake off her smiling lips.

She laughs against my mouth, and so do I.

I step back and look at her, at the smile on her face, eyes bright, big, and beautiful, and her creamy skin is flushed.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Mandee,” I tell her then lick my lips, cleaning off some of the mess I made of them, hoping like hell she thinks the same of me. And no, I shouldn’t want that, not for a girl like her.

When her lips purse in an almost pout, I can’t help reaching over and grabbing up some more.

“I’m awfully glad you think so,” she says.

I feel that tightening in my chest. I know it well. Mags, Mom, my brothers, and Brand make that shit happen. No one else.

I momentarily allow its warmth to spread, and then...then I realize who the hell I am.

I’m Grayson Falcon, and no love should ever be wasted on me. But I sure as hell will give her what it is we have agreed on. I will be her friend. Hell, I want that. And I will fuck her, too. No doubt I want that.

So, I tell her, “Take off the tank and lie back.”

As she pulls it up and I see her white bra, as if it’s even possible, my cock gets harder.

I close my eyes, trying to will my balls not to burst right here and now.

When I open them, her arms are crossed over her body.

“Don’t fucking do that,” I tell her.

“You closed your eyes. I thought—”

“Whatever you thought was wrong. Now lie back and let me fucking have my cake and eat you, too.”

To that, she smiles and lies back.

“Not sure where to start,” I say, grabbing her leg and setting it on my shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Her legs are up and resting against my body as I spread the cake and frosting from one hip bone to the next, her squirming a little under my touch. Then I bend down and rub my lips from one side to the other, then back, using my tongue.

“Fucking delicious,” I say, grabbing more and rubbing it over her smooth, bare lips. I never looked at a woman like this before. “Your pussy is sexy as hell.”

“Thanks?” she says as I squat to taste cake and her.

I look up after the first lick. “Best cake ever.”

She smiles, covers her eyes, then laughs...until I lick a little harder, getting less cake and more her. That’s when the laugh turns into a moan and her legs fall apart farther.

“Fuck,” I groan then look up at her. All I see is tits in a white bra and chocolate hair being fisted in her hands.

I reach up and grab a handful of tit, and she pushes it into my hand, still licking, still tasting, as she now rocks a little against my face.

I feel her insides tighten around my tongue, and I remember last night and what comes next—her.

I grip her hips now and pull her hard against my face, wanting her to come all over my mouth and not my fingers this time.

“Gray?” she asks, pleads, as she tries to fight the inevitable. “Oh, no. Oh, oh, oh, God!” Her knees clamp against my head, a move that totally fucking contradicts her words as she grabs my hair and grinds against my touch.

When her body and the tone of her cries relax a bit, I slow down and lighten my touch. But I don’t stop licking. I fucking can’t.

“Tastes so good, Mandee. Better than cake.”

Then...then I can’t help getting her to that point again.

When she lies limp, I kiss up her hip, her belly, and when I get to her tits, I unhook the front clasp and they spill out.

Her nipples are the exact same color as her lips with no lipstick. They are hard as hell, and when I grab her tits and suck one in my mouth, while rolling the other between my fingers, she whimpers, “Gray.”

Gray, the man I am, unable and unwilling to give or expect love to be given to me by a woman like her. Gray, my name, a color that is neither black nor white. Gray, just something in-between, and fuck if I don’t want to be her in-between.