Chapter Twelve

Driving Stick

Phoenix

Men lie about their size. I hear it every day in the bar. Their dates often roll their eyes when they brag, but him...He’s not lying.

I am in fourth gear, and I know I will need to downshift soon but I don’t want to move my hand from him. I am excited and terrified about the possibilities of what’s to come.

I have never been around anyone like him. He’s an ass at times, a giant, tree-sized ass, but sweet mother of all things real, he’s wonderful, too.

How will this work?

How will I recover, and I’m not just speaking physically? I have never had someone look at me the way he does, say the dirty, filthy...sexy things he has said to me that would totally repulse me if it wasn’t coming from him.

It’s not just his look, albeit unbelievable. It’s him. It’s his honesty, his work ethic, his care for Mags. Add all those to everything he’s already done to me physically and what I learned about his character tonight, and I’m done. Totally freaking done.

He’s honest almost to a fault, and he wasn’t exaggerating his size. He’s huge, and I want him so bad, but it’s...huge.

He hisses when I squeeze him, trying to not only wrap my hand around him, but my damn head around the situation I am in with this man.

“Shift, baby,” he groans as he holds his hand over mine so I don’t take it off him.

“I can’t,” I say in a breathy voice, one that is foreign to me.

“Don’t you move that hand, Phoenix,” he demands. “Hit the clutch. I’ll shift, but don’t you move your fucking hand off my cock.”

I don’t. I stroke his covered dick as I drive, and he shifts as I stroke some more.

When we get to the turn off for Falcon’s Landing, he pulls my hand away and kisses it.

“My house.” His voice is as gravely as the road we are going down.

The rain is falling harder, and I see flashes of lightning over the lake. It’s as if the universe is trying to warn me, to caution me of the danger ahead. However, the universe doesn’t know that I don’t give a damn right now. That the lightning over the lake is but a reflection of what I am feeling deep inside of me. That my body is tense, tight, yearning, aching for his touch and to touch him.

The lightning I see is also what I feel. When he touched my hand, I felt lightning surge in the palms of my hands and the bottom of my feet. When he palmed my breast, lightning coursed to the pit of my stomach. When he pinched my nipple, all my blood pooled between my legs, and my clit caught fire. When he pulled away, it didn’t lessen. It did the opposite. It intensified.

Rubbing his covered cock made the ache between my legs worse. I want him close, closer, as close as he can possibly get.

My lips yearn to connect with his. I want to taste them, his mouth. Something he has denied me, but I will be damned if I let him deny me again, not tonight, this morning, whatever time it is.

“Easy, squirt.” He grips my knee, and I moan at just that connection. “Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking mess.”

“No,” I almost pant.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He grips tighter.

“Oh, God.” I take a quivery breath.

“Fuck, Phoenix, fuck,” he growls as he rubs his hand down the massive bulge between his legs.

I can’t stop looking at the man next to me, his mystical eyes now liquid heat with need.

“Fuck,” he says, grabbing the wheel and jerking the truck right.

“Sorry,” I whisper, looking toward the tree I almost ran into.

“Don’t you be fucking sorry you want me. Fuck that, Phoenix, own it. You want me as goddamn bad as I want you. You want me so bad it fucking hurts.”

I keep looking straight ahead and nod.

“Tell me, dammit. Tell me you want my cock.”

“I...I...want...” I can’t say it out loud.

“Tell me now. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how bad you want my cock.”

“Jesus, Gage,” I whimper.

“Tell me,” he demands.

“I want you to fuck me.” I am a fucking mess of ache and need, and I swear I am minutes from coming.

“Tell me you want my cock,” he hisses.

“I want you. I want your cock.”

“That’s fucking good because that’s what you’re going to get. And you’re going to get it all damn night.”

I nod.

“Say it.”

I nod again.

“Fucking say it.”

“Yes. Yes, I want you. I want you so bad it hurts.”

“Good. You fucking remember the pain of wanting so I can fuck you through the pain of my getting it until you’re getting fucked so good, so hard, that you don’t give a fuck about a goddamn thing but my cock making you come.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter and hit the gas.

“Get us there.”

When I round the corner, I see a light on at Mags’ place and a Lexus SUV in the driveway.

I look over at Gage, and his face and eyes harden. He’s angry.

“Should I stop?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Are you—”

“Get us there.”

So I do.

I pull up to an abrupt stop in front of his house, and he is out of the truck before I even put it in gear.

As I turn the key, the driver’s door opens, and he wraps his arm around me and pulls me out.

I wrap my legs and arms around him, kissing him. When he pushes his lips against mine, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and bite his lip.

He opens his mouth as he walks quickly toward the house, and I suck on his lips. Then my back hits something and only then do I realize I’m against the house and he’s hitting numbers into a keypad on the side of the house. His knee is between my legs, and I can’t help rubbing against it, whimpering at the mind-blowing sensation of the connection started when he first touched me.

He grips the back of my head and pulls my mouth back to his. His tongue rushes in and takes control of my feeble attempt at a kiss. He licks inside my mouth, strokes my tongue with his and doesn’t stop.

He pulls me up against him harshly, one hand cupping my ass, still licking and tasting me. I hear a slam and realize he’s moved us into the house.

He starts to pull back, but I don’t want him to, not one bit, so I capture his tongue between my lips and suck gently as he continues to move us.

I hear the sound of leather as I come down, straddling his lap. He pulls back slowly and closes his eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask quietly.

He reaches around me and grabs something. Music starts playing as he looks at me.

I feel vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable, as he eyes me from my center then slowly up my body until our eyes meet.

“Don’t ask that again. You and I are gonna fuck. Give and take...a release. You’re not here to impress me.”

I’m confused, so confused as to what that means. He can tell.

He picks me up, sets me down beside him, and then stands. He walks over to the two-story stone fireplace and squats. I watch as he pushes some paper under a pile of logs and grabs a lighter to start it.

I feel my face heat up, just like that fire is. I wrap my arms around my body, suddenly feeling insecure, and he...He’s giving me no answer. So, I ask again, even though he said not to.

“Gage, did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head then runs his hand through his hair.

“Then what—”

“Get naked,” he says as he stands, pulling his long-sleeved tee over his head and dropping it on the floor before he turns around.

I watch as he unbuttons his pants and lets them drop to the ground. He has nothing on underneath.

I feel my mouth gaping as I look at him.

“Oh, God,” I whisper.

He begins to step out of his pants when his phone rings. He bends down and pulls it out of his pocket, hissing, “Fuck.” He answers harshly, “It’s late.” Then his face hardens, his eyes change from liquid to stone, and he bends again, pulling his pants back up. He turns his back to me and walks toward a bar in the corner, grabs a bottle, twists off the cap, and drinks from it.

With the bottle still in his hand, he walks over and grabs his shirt. “I’ll be back in a bit. My room’s upstairs to the left at the end of the hall. When I get back, be fucking naked, Phoenix.”

“Are you okay?” I ask.

My question causes his eyes to narrow momentarily, and then he asks, “Will you be naked?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He starts to walk out the door, bottle in hand, when he stops, turns around, walks back to the bar, grabs another bottle, and walks over to me.

“You may want to get yourself in a relaxed state of mind.”

I take the bottle from his hand and nod. “Okay.”

“Good.”

With that, he turns and walks out the door, shirt in hand.

I sit back on the large, soft, brown leather sofa and look around. The cabin, if you can call it that, is even more spectacular than what I have seen in the lower level. The walls are logs and stone; beautiful light color logs and the stone slate gray. The exposed log beams are stunning. The spectacular fireplace is centered between two sets of French doors leading out to one of the many decks facing the lake.

I stand up from the couch and look toward the stairway. Passed it there is a dim light shining.

I take the bottle and put it to my lips, taking a sip of the bourbon as I walk toward the light.

As I get closer, I see it’s the kitchen, and when I say kitchen, I mean a full chef’s kitchen with industrial-sized appliances and slate countertops and island.

Past the kitchen is a dining room that is enormous. The table is topped with slate, there are large benches down both sides, and chairs at each end. It could easily sit twenty people.

I take another drink as I turn to head back to the stairway and decide to walk to the other side of the living room toward the French doors.

When I open them, I enter another large room, an office. The room looks to be used more often than the other rooms. There are picture frames on the desk, and I walk around to see pictures of him and his son. My chest tightens when I see the way he looks at Gage, and the way Gage looks at him. The smile, his smile, is like the sunrise—bright and welcoming. It’s a smile I have only witnessed a couple times. One that puts me at ease, makes me lose my anger toward my past experiences, and makes me smile, too.

Another picture is of him and two other men. Although they are not as attractive to me as Gage is, they are also tall, dark, and incredibly handsome. All three of them look very serious.

Behind them is a large building with glass from bottom to as far up as the picture goes. There is a sign above the entry door, Falcon Construction.

His last name.

He never mentioned owning a construction company, but this picture leads me to believe he does, or at least works with his family. Wanting to know more, I look around the room. Behind me, I spot a large frame. I step closer and see a newspaper spread, “Gage Falcon takes over his family business, Falcon Construction,” is the headline, and the picture below it shows Gage in a suit, sitting behind a desk, his ink peeking out from under the shirt collar and sleeves rolled up, exposing more.

He is so sexy. So incredibly sexy that it’s intimidating and alluring at the same time.

My stomach sinks, and I get a sick feeling in it.

He’s here for a month. Just a month.

I wonder if he comes here often to release the pent-up frustration from running his business where no one knows him.

I remember overhearing him vaguely tell Tammy, or was it Tonya, that he was in construction. I also remember him saying women only wanted money and a man who will take care of them.

He’s using me. He’s using me for a release. I wonder how many women have been in my situation.

I take another drink from the bottle because I’m...angry? I can’t be. He never lied to me. He has never led me to believe he wanted more, and I never said I wanted more. I don’t want more. So why do I feel this way now?

I look back at his desk and at the picture of him with the little boy and think of what that bitch did to him. Of how he had become one of the people I wanted to protect, how he had protected me. Even though it was annoying; it was also endearing.

I take a deep breath as I look back at his picture. There is no way in hell I can stop myself from what I am about to do.

I’m just afraid I will want...more.

I already want more.

Deciding that I will revel in the one promise he has made me, one of a release, one that comes with no more pressure than I allow, I walk out of his office, keeping my eyes on the massive wooden stairway.

I stop at the bottom, take another drink from the bottle, and then make my way up the stairs to his room.

Once inside his room, I look around. The moonlight coming in allows me enough light to see it’s beautiful, just like the rest of his home, and just like this entire property.

I take in a deep breath. It smells like him. I close my eyes and take in another deep breath. Then I walk to his massive bed and take another drink before setting the bottle on the nightstand.

I run my hand over the plush tan fabric of his comforter. It’s soft. So incredibly soft and the total opposite of him.

I kick off my sandals and pull my tee-shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor. Then I shimmy out of my shorts, pulling my panties down with them, and then unhook my bra and let it fall into the pile laying on the light wood floor beside his massive bed.

I take another deep breath as I pull back the comforter, exposing the white sheets beneath. I look at it as the butterflies begin to swarm around the lowest part of my belly and breathe him in again before climbing into his—Gage’s—bed, knowing exactly what I am in for and wanting it so damn badly.

I lay my head on the pillow, his scent even more pronounced, and pull the sheets over my body. When the fabric hits my nipples, they immediately peak and ache for him.

I close my eyes, allowing the alcohol to set in, and I wait to be torn apart.

I wake to covers being lifted off my body and open my eyes.

He is completely and totally bare, as am I. The light coming from the master bath shines behind him, making him look even more glorious.

He grabs both my ankles and pulls me to the end of the California king bed then slowly drops to his knees. He lifts my leg and opens his mouth, licking slowly from my ankle to my knee, and then he does it to the next, pulling me closer to him.

I close my eyes unable to take the sight of him mixed with the way my body ignites at his touch.

His lips are featherlight against my center, his soft beard rubbing against my thigh. I am liquid fire.

I hear a mix of a purr and a growl, the sound vibrating against my skin and causing a whimper to escape me.

His tongue splits me in two as he grips my ass, pulling me harshly against his face. And then...then...I am lost.

His grip tightens on my ass as I rock against him, unashamed, uninhibited, allowing my pleasure, the one he is causing, to consume every cell in my body.

He sucks and licks and nibbles at me, and every ounce of blood in my body pools in the place he avoids—my clit.

“Please,” I whimper as he circles his tongue around it again and again.

He continues his slow, sexy torture while I am a mess of moans and tingles.

Unable to stop myself, I reach down and grab his hair, tangling my hands in its silky thickness.

He looks up at me, mouth to pussy, tongue deep inside, and I feel my insides clench.