Playing, p.20
Playing, page 20
He feels so good against my palm. Warm. Hard. Alive.
But I need more.
I need all of him.
My lips find his. My kiss gets harder. Deeper. Needier.
All that affection pours from him to me.
And from me to him.
There's trust in his touch. Trust I don't deserve. Trust I desperately need.
His palm plants between my shoulder blades. Slowly, he drags his lips over my cheek and chin, down my neck, along my collarbone.
He takes my nipple into his mouth.
Fuck. That feels good.
My hands go to his hair.
My hips rock of their own accord.
He's hard under me. And I want that. I want every layer of clothes between us gone. I want every wall between us gone.
I can't have the latter. Not yet.
So I need this.
My hand knots in his hair.
He sucks softly. It sends pleasure straight to my core.
I grind against him.
"Walker." I squeeze my thighs against his hips. "Fuck me. Please."
He pulls me closer. Sucks a little harder. Then it's short flicks of his tongue. Long ones. Soft. Hard. He swirls his tongue around my tender bud. Scrapes his teeth against it.
He toys with me until I'm shaking then he moves to my other nipple and does it again.
I can't take the ache between my legs.
I need him.
I need him more than I've ever needed anything.
I grind against him. "Walker. Please."
He drags his fingertips down my spine, to the top of my panties, then all the way up to the base of my skull.
The softness of his touch sets me on fire.
My entire body is buzzing. Every nerve is awake and alive and screaming for more of him.
I shift my hips. Bring my hands to his jeans. Undo his button. Then the zipper.
I cup him over his boxers. He feels good in my hand, but it's not enough.
I kiss him hard and deep. Then my lips are on his cheek. His chin. His neck.
He groans as I suck on his skin.
His hands knot in my hair.
God, that sound is music. Poetry. Everything.
I do it again.
He groans a little louder.
I push his jeans off his hips as I suck on his neck. Then his boxers.
I wrap my hand around his cock. Pump him as I suck on his skin.
"Iris." His breath gets heavy. Needy.
Yes. That.
Slowly, I work my way down his torso. I drag my lips over his chest and stomach then I lower myself onto my knees.
I look up at him as I brush my lips against his cock.
He shudders.
I do it again.
A groan falls off his lips.
Again.
His palm presses against the back of my head, nudging me forward.
I torture him instead.
I flick my tongue against his tip.
His groan gets low, heavy.
I do it again.
Again.
I do it until he's shaking.
He sighs with pleasure as I take him into my mouth.
He tastes good, like salt and soap and Walker.
His skin is soft but he's so fucking hard.
I look up at him as I take him deeper.
His eyes go hazy with pleasure. His brow softens. His lips part with a groan.
I'm the one driving him out of his mind.
Right now, I'm the only thing he needs.
And that's exactly what I need.
I bring my hand to his hip, pull him closer to take him deeper.
Deeper.
It's too much. I nearly gag. But then that's not enough.
I swallow to relax my throat. My fingers dig into his skin. Again, I pull him closer.
Take him deeper.
Suck a little harder.
He presses his palm against my head, nudging me forward, commanding me.
I shouldn't like it.
But I do.
I let him guide me as I work him.
His touch gets harder.
His groans get louder.
He rocks his hips, thrusting into my mouth.
I press my tongue against the base of his tip. Relax my throat.
He rocks into me again.
Again.
There.
His hand knots in my hair.
His cock pulses.
My name falls off his lips as he fills my mouth. He's salty. Sweet.
I swallow hard.
He looks down at me like I'm heaven sent.
I push myself up. Climb into his lap.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me like he's never going to let me go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Walker
I stretch my arms over my head as a yawn escapes my lips. I can't remember the last time I was tired from staying up talking.
There's something intoxicating about Iris. I want to wipe away every hint of pain in those gorgeous blue eyes. I want to destroy whoever or whatever caused that ache.
She deserves a life without hurt.
She deserves the entire fucking world.
I finish checking out my customer, give him the usual aftercare speech, head straight to the single cup coffee maker in the back. It's mediocre, but I need the caffeine.
"Oooh, make me one please," Leighton calls out from her spot at the counter. She presses her hands together—well, her Kindle is between them, but close enough—and shoots me puppy dog eyes.
"You ever get tired of begging?"
Her lips curl into a half smile. "You read my journal too?"
"You don't have a journal."
"That's what you think." She winks. "French Roast. Please. I'll love you forever."
"You won't now?"
She laughs. "Who knows?"
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
"You're always in a good mood."
No, I always seem like I'm in a good mood. But the distinction doesn't matter to me at the moment. Everything feels light. Mom's going to put her foot down with Bree. My schedule is filled with badass tattoos. And Iris is… fuck, Iris is everything.
This must be why Brendon is so fucking obnoxious all the time.
I finish my cup then make one for Leighton. I even fix it the way she likes—one packet of half and half and one of raw sugar.
She sighs with anticipation as I hand it over. Slowly, she brings it to her lips—she isn't wearing lipstick today, which is weird—and takes a sip.
Her sigh is heavy, needy. "Mmm. Better than sex."
"It's been too long since you've had sex."
She shoots me a cutting look. "You think I'm not aware of that?"
"I'm not the one comparing shitty coffee to sex."
"It's decent coffee."
"Been too long since you've had good coffee."
"Cocky now that you have a girlfriend."
"'Cause I was hurting for sex before?"
"Please. You're different about it lately."
"I am not." No, I am.
"You didn't deny the girlfriend thing."
"You asking for details about last night?"
"Are you offering?"
Maybe. It feels weird. Wrong. I take a long sip. "You made the abstinence rule. You can pull it anytime."
She shakes her head.
"You have an end date in mind?"
She tilts her head to one side. "Uh… I'll know when it's time."
"Uh-huh."
"I will. It needs to be the right guy. Someone I actually like. And trust."
"Or when you're dripping wet, panting and needy from Kay's kinky book?" Dean slides onto the counter.
"I'm not reading Kaylee's dirty book." Leighton takes another sip. "And it's not that dirty."
"How do you know if you don't read it?" he asks.
"I skim over her shoulder." Her cheeks flush. "Like you wouldn't."
"Invading a young woman's privacy." Dean shakes his head. "Fucked-up shit." He looks to me right?
I nod. "Not as fucked-up as deflowering her in an alley."
"I do not need to hear this story again," Leighton says.
"You wanted details," I say.
"About you and Iris. Not about Kay. She's too innocent and cute—"
"You're into chicks now?" Dean's eyes perk. "Can I watch?"
"No. And hell no. But I'm not afraid to admit a woman is attractive," she says.
He shoots her a cutting look. "You think I'm afraid to point out a hot guy?"
"Maybe." She looks from him to me then back to him. "I don't hear you discussing it."
"When's it come up?" He presses his lips to one side, thinking. "Walker's hot."
"Yeah? You two ever experiment?" She presses her hands together. "Can I watch?"
"No. But you can watch me with anyone, Leigh." He winks at her.
"No, thank you," she says.
"How come you're always begging my boy for details?" Dean asks.
"I do not beg." She folds her arms. "And he gives good detail."
"And I don't?" Dean mocks poignant.
"No. You say shit like—" She drops her voice to imitate Dean. "Oh, her tits were so nice. It was awesome when she sucked me off."
He arches a brow. "I don't see the problem."
"Exactly." She looks to me. "You want to explain this to him?"
"Not even a little," I say.
He motions to his empty suite—the client is halfway to the bathroom. "This is going long."
"It's fine. I'm beat. I'm gonna head home." I take a long sip. It's only okay coffee, but it tastes fucking amazing. Everything feels brighter. Crisper. Better.
"Fuck that. It's biceps and back." He winks at Leighton as he flexes. "You can touch. It won't bite."
She rolls her eyes as she fake laughs. But she still ends in a smile. She enjoys Dean's stupidity.
"Next time." I take another sip. "I was up late."
"Fucking Iris?" he asks.
"We were talking."
He tilts his head to one side. "Talking?"
"Yeah. When you like a girl for more than what's between her legs—you know what? I don't want to ruin the surprise," I tease.
"I know what talking is." His eyes narrow. "So it's serious?"
"I guess."
"You gonna go see her?"
"Maybe. She was upset last night." I take another sip. I'm not dense. I get that Dean is concerned shit's going to change. But it's not. "I'm gonna call. Make sure she's okay."
Dean looks to Leighton. Raises a brow.
She shrugs don't look at me.
"You know I'm right here," I say.
"Just find it fucking interesting you'll wait around for her, but you bail on our plans." Dean slides off the counter.
"She has great tits," I say.
"If I thought that was it, I wouldn't fucking care," Dean says.
Leighton clears her throat. Motions to Ryan working on a pretty girl's wrist tattoo—not that he's noticing the way she's looking at him.
He folds his arms over his chest. "This is a fucking inside voice."
"We have different definitions of inside voice." She plops on her stool. Taps her Converse together. "Your shop. Alienate your customers if you want."
"Thanks, I will," he says.
"If Ryan lectures me, I will fucking ruin you," she says.
"He'll lecture me," Dean says.
"He'll lecture all of us." She shakes her head. "You can admit you have feelings."
He looks to me. "She your girlfriend now or some shit?"
"Yeah. And?" I stare back at him.
"Would have been nice to know that."
"Now you do."
"You gonna tell me why the fuck she was asking about Sabrina?"
"She was?" I bite my tongue. "When?"
Dean scoffs. "Guess you don't know everything about her."
Irritation seeps into my voice. "Never said I did."
Leighton looks to me. "At Ryan's party. She seemed really concerned."
Dean's voice gets low. "Why the fuck is there anything to say about Sabrina? Your sister is supposed to be in rehab."
"She checked out early." I try to make my voice even, but it refuses. I'm still pissed. I'm still worried she's going to die with a needle in her arm no matter what I do.
"When?" he asks.
"A few weeks ago."
He shakes his head. "And you didn't fucking tell me?"
"I didn't tell her either. Bree was there. At my place. High. Iris was with me."
"Were you gonna fucking tell me?" Dean asks.
"I can handle Bree on my own." I have for a long time.
All the I'm gonna fuck with you falls off his face. His eyes turn down. His lips curl into a frown. "But you don't have to."
"I want to."
"Why? You don't trust me?"
"You know I do."
"How the fuck do I know that?" He shakes his head. "You've been M.I.A., Walker. You like this girl. I get it. I like her too."
"You do?" Leighton's face screws with confusion. She shoots me a really look.
I shrug.
He flips her off.
"Seriously, Dean, you've been a total dick to her," she says.
"I'm working on it." He looks to me. "And I am fucking sorry I've been an asshole to your… whatever she is. But you need to work on this shit too. You forget I've known you forever. That smile you plaster on every day is bullshit. I've known it's bullshit. Just not why."
I press my heel into the ground. "It's not bull—"
"Yeah. It is. If Bree showed up at your place high…" He shakes his head. "You're freaking the fuck out. Imagining the cops notifying you they've found her dead in a fucking alley."
I suck a breath between my teeth. "Sometimes. So what?"
"So, you tell your fucking friends shit is messed up." He takes a step backward. "We can help. I can help."
"How?"
"It was barely a month ago you dragged her to rehab. You think I've forgotten? You were a fucking mess."
Maybe.
"I'm not an idiot. I get that we're not fifteen anymore. I get that you're gonna meet someone one day and it's gonna change shit. But you're better than this."
"Than what?"
"Than ditching your friends for a girl." He nods to his customer, now moving back to his suite. "You barely know her. How do you know she's worth it?"
"I do."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Guess I'm not telling you about it." I fold my arms.
"Fuck, you're stupid." He shakes his head. "Go home. Go to her. Whatever. Gym's off today. Gym's off for the immediate future."
"Dean, come on."
"Dean, what? You're gonna throw me some scraps? No thanks." He turns, shakes his head, saunters back to his suite.
Leighton presses her palms against the counter.
"You think he's right?" I ask.
She stares at her coffee cup. "You really found your sister high in your apartment?"
"Yeah."
She presses her lips together. "Why didn't you tell him?"
"I never tell anyone shit." And I don't fucking enjoy the way Leighton is staring at me right now. With all that pity in her eyes.
"I get it, Walker. I've been infatuated before. You can't get enough of them. You think it's never going to end."
"You saying it is?"
"The honeymoon ends, yeah. She might be the one. You might be forever. I hope so. She's cool and smart, and you deserve someone like that. But the infatuation… it's normal for you to forget your friends for a while. To get all wrapped up in them. But Dean—I'm pretty sure you and Ryan are the only people he trusts."
"Maybe."
"And it's not like Ryan is pouring his heart out over drinks."
"Yeah." Ryan is about as tight-lipped as it gets.
"The last few weeks, you've been different. In the clouds. Ignoring everybody here."
"Maybe."
"No. Definitely." She slides off her stool. "You don't have to apologize to me. I understand. Fuck, how I understand. But a girl's never come between you and Dean. And with Ryan… you can see why he's worried."
"Maybe."
"Your life. Do what you want."
"Doesn't always feel like it."
She tosses her empty cup in the trash can under the counter. "Your sister really check out of rehab early?"
"Yeah." I'm not sure how much of that story Leighton knows. I'd like to keep it to a minimum.
"That sucks. I'm sorry."
"Thanks."
"You want to talk about it?"
"I'll give you one guess."
* * *
I call Iris as soon as I get home.
Her voice is enough to push the clouds in my head away. But it's temporary. I need more. I need my head clear.
I know just the place.
I text her.
Walker: Meet me somewhere Saturday.
Iris: What's in it for me?
Walker: My beautiful face.
Iris: That's it?
Walker: Yeah.
Iris: I'm in.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Walker
"You're evil." Iris throws her hand over her eyes.
"I know."
"Possibly even the devil." She steps into the shade. Her eyes find mine. "Look how empty it is?" She nods to the parking lot. Three out of two dozen spaces are full. "And that." She nods to the white sky. "It's a sign from God that we're supposed to be inside."
"There are places where the sky looks like that all winter."
"Sounds awful. Let's never go there."
I laugh. "What if they have great coffee?"
"Sounds wonderful. Let's drive there right now." She moves closer. Slides her hand into my front pocket. "You look good."
"You too."
She shakes her head. "I look tired."
"Yeah." I slide my arm around her waist. Pull her body into mine. "But still gorgeous."
She looks up at me with those blue eyes.
I press my forehead to hers. I want to breathe in every ounce of her. I want to erase every other thought in my head.
Her eyelids flutter together.
She rises to her tiptoes, slides her arm around my neck, presses her lips to mine.
She tastes good, like coffee and sugar.
She always tastes like coffee and sugar.
She pulls back with a sigh. "I guess we should do this thing."
