Odis
She’s too shell-shocked to say anything the whole way back to the house. Every time I glance her way, she’s wearing this distant expression and staring straight ahead. What’s she thinking? I hope it’s about how hot that was, but I doubt it, knowing her.
When we get home, the house is still dark and quiet. Nobody knows we were gone. Well, Dad expects us to do whatever we want, but Gemma’s another story. I doubt we would get away with bringing her home, looking the way she does, without at least getting bitched out.
She’s still sort of spaced out, so I help her out of the car and walk with her through the front door, then upstairs while Denver goes to the kitchen. We exchange a look that tells me he expects me to take care of her.
I turn on the light in her room. She turns her face away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. There she goes again, closing up, shutting me out.
“You okay?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“Fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I just need to wash up.” She tries to break for the bathroom before it’s even out of her mouth. I step in front of her, blocking the way, and she has no choice but to stop. That doesn’t mean she’ll look at me, though. “Move, please,” she mumbles.
“You don’t have to feel weird about what happened back there. You know that, right?”
“Sure.”
“So why are you acting like this?” When she only bites her lip, I add, “It was hot, and we all had fun. We’re not going to tell anybody about it. It’ll stay between us.”
She glances up. “You mean that?”
“I wouldn’t bullshit you over something important like this.” I take a strand of her hair between two fingers and let it slide between them. How many times did I wish I could do something that simple? And what did I do instead? I made her feel like shit about herself. I wish I could go back and kick the shit out of that version of myself.
“Okay.” Her shoulders drop a little, and I know she’s finally relaxing, though I sense she’s still anxious. I guess I would be in her place. What happened at the club wasn’t something she does every day or ever. She’s probably asking herself what it means about her, how she reacted to Denver and me using her in front of strangers. It didn’t take much to make her come on my hand—she was soaking wet before I ever touched her. She loved it as much as we did.
The memory is enough to make me hard again. Either she’s going to do something about this, or I’ll have to since I’m not trying to go to bed with blue balls. “Come on. You were on your way to the shower. I’ll get in with you.”
Her head snaps up. She’s frowning like she’s about to refuse, either because she wants to or thinks she should. Remembering the way she fucked my finger, I think it’s the second one. The girl can lie to herself, but she can’t lie to me.
I lead her into her bathroom, which is pretty much identical to mine and Denver’s except for the girly things all over the vanity. I reach into the shower stall and turn on the water, then start to peel off my clothes. “Come on. Unless you want to shower in your dress. That might be pretty hot. Like a wet T-shirt contest.”
At least she’s smiling a little, even though she’s trying to hide it. “Help me with this?” She turns, pulling her hair to the side so I can unzip her and admire inch after inch of smooth, perfect skin.
My heart stops for a second when she turns around and lets the dress puddle at her feet. Except for the thin little scrap of fabric passing for panties, there’s nothing hidden. I feast my eyes on her while my dick gets harder, springing free from my shorts before I pull her close against me.
“You’re beautiful. Myles would’ve been lucky to have you on his staff.” My arm tightens around her waist as anger floods my veins, burning like fire. “But this body isn’t for some random guy to get off to. I’m glad you didn’t get hired, if only because I’d have to kill any man who looked at you. I know Denver feels the same.” She bites her lip, lowering her eyes. All it does is make me want her more.
I open the shower door and lead her inside. The spray is hot, and steam is already billowing around us when I take her by the hips and yank her against my dripping cock. “You were gorgeous back there at the club. Fucking sexy. When you let yourself go, you can have fun.” I cup her ass and squeeze, grinning. “You did have fun, didn’t you?”
She pulls the innocent act again, lowering her eyes and all that, but her fingertips brush against my shaft, and I know I’m right. “Touch it,” I whisper while running my hands over her ass. “Stroke it. Nice and slow.”
Her fingers wrap around me, and I close my eyes as she begins sliding her hand up and down my length. My head falls back against the shower wall. Her nipples harden and brush against my chest. I take hold of one of her tits and knead it, pinching the nipple until she sucks in a surprised gasp between her teeth.
Her hand moves faster. So she likes that. I pinch her again, harder, and her hand tightens around me. Soon the air is full of my ragged breathing, and the splashing of water as Gemma jerks me faster and faster. “You’re gonna make me come,” I warn before taking a handful of her wet hair and yanking her head back, revealing her long, slim throat. I lean in, breathing against her skin. “Is that what you want? You want me to come for you?”
She whimpers. The sound makes my balls lift and tighten, and I know this can’t last much longer. I want to come. Now.
“Get on your knees.” I take my cock in my hand and stroke fast, getting closer every second, barely able to hold back and not wanting to, either. “Open your mouth,” I grunt while taking the back of her head in my other hand, and she does as I say not a second before the first spurt crosses her lips. The second hits her tongue, and the third splashes across her cheek. By the time I’m finished, the bottom half of her face is painted with my cum.
“Fuck, yes.” I close my eyes and revel in the waves rolling over me. Relief. My mind is empty, my muscles as loose as the water running down them. “Thank you.”
When I look down at her, I don’t see the same relief. I only see the tears standing in her eyes. Her tears are like cold water rushing over my head. “Gemma?” Pulling her to her feet, I brush strands of wet hair away from her face so she can rinse away what I shot across it. Her chin is quivering like she’s about to weep. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s been a long day. I’m just tired.” I wonder whether that’s true or not and decide to take her at her word rather than pushing for more.
“What are you doing?” she asks when I take a mesh shower sponge off its hook before reaching for her body wash.
“What’s it look like? Let me take care of you.” Her arms fall to her sides as she sighs, giving in while I soap up the sponge. Why does she have to be so stubborn about everything? Why does everything have to be a fight? I ask these questions silently while rubbing the sponge over her shoulders and down her arms, over her back, and the curve of her ass. She sighs softly, eyes closing. “Just relax,” I whisper close to her ear, and she leans against me in response. If she wasn’t so worn out, I might turn this into something more. I mean, how am I supposed to touch her like this without getting hard again?
But right now, all that matters is taking care of her—washing her, rinsing her off, then getting a towel to run over her body once we’re finished. She smirks a little when I start to dry her off. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because you deserve it.” When I’m finished drying myself, I lead her back to the bedroom, turn off the light and pull back the covers. She climbs in without saying a word but stiffens when I slide in behind her and drape an arm over her waist. After a few seconds, she settles down with a soft sigh that sounds a lot like trust.
It’s enough to make me smile before sleep pulls me under.