Page 57 of Tempest

“I’ll have to see that for myself before I can decide. Years of faded memories and torrid fantasies don’t count,” he says. Has he fantasized about me? Would I have wanted him to when he had a wife by his side? Ignoring my wayward thoughts, I drag my tongue up from base to tip, savoring the silkiness of him.

He smells of the oils we bathed in last night, but he tastes salty and manly in a way I haven’t had in so long. This isn’t something I do. If I’m being honest, I’m usually a selfish lover. I live my life like men in that way, I do what I want, take what I want. And I want Gavin’s cock so deep down my throat.

“Don’t be gentle,” I purr before swallowing him.

“Ah, fuck, Ode,” he groans, his hips rising. I start a steady bobbing, my tongue curved to cradle what I can of his girth. I may be out of practice but I’m also a huge overachiever. So, I go deeper, and he curses. His hips find a rhythm, one hand in my hair while the other curls around his head so he can look down his body. Gavin’s heels push into the bed, allowing him to rise more. I nearly gag, but relax my throat to try to accommodate.

A rush of feminine power washes over me as I work him with my mouth and hand. This beautiful fucking cock is hard because of me. Gavin Vaughn, star hockey player, is losing his mind because of what I’m doing to him.

I’m not the type to get starstruck. I wouldn’t have lasted in my career if I were. But the way he’s watching me is heady and euphoric in a way that I think most would feel if they were meeting their celebrity idol.

I could become addicted to this. It’s fucking terrifying.

But nothing could pull me away right now as the first drops of pre-cum leak from his tip. I pull up and am about to dive down again but he stops me.

“No. Get up here,” he says, then pulls me up his body. He sits up and helps lower me on his cock. I gasp at the fullness and he mutters, “That’s better.”

With his arms wrapped around me and my legs twining around his waist, he pumps in. Eye to eye, noses grazing, he whispers things I’m not sure he’d say if we weren’t so impossibly connected right now.

“I missed you. More than you could know, Ode. I didn’t understand then. I didn’t know what I know now.”

“Gavin,” I warn, but it comes out as more of a needy whine.

“Just listen. Let me say it, just once. Look at me, Odette,” he says, at the same time he doubles the effort with his dick. “I loved you. I never said it, but you should know. I loved you and I have mourned us every single day.”

I gasp as the tears form in my eyes along with the rush of blood to my core. A sob escapes as I orgasm, my body not knowing what to do with all the sensation.

Gavin never lets me go. Not even after I’ve shattered and buried my face in his neck. He pets me in the most soothing way, and I love it.

I love it.

I hate it.

I want to run from it as much as I want to cling for more.

How could he possibly know that I needed to hear that? It’s the one thing I’ve questioned the most, convincing myself that he must not have. That he couldn’t have felt the same as I did because how could he walk away from that and pretend like we never knew each other. When what we were was sweet and caring and beautifully in love. I knew it. But I convinced myself it must have all been a lie, it was the only way I survived the idea that he was creating that same sort of love with someone else.

I housed myself in doubt while he found comfort in her. They didn’t marry out of romantic love but there must have been affection and love making in all that time.

My skin prickles, a chill taking hold, as if the ceiling has opened up and snowflakes have started to fall on my bare body.

“Shit,” Gavin cusses, pulling the blanket around us. “I’m sorry, Ode. That was selfish and I promised I wouldn’t be that with you.”

“I needed to hear it,” I say, trying to keep my words steady. “It just brings up more...”

“I understand,” he soothes. “Do you have food in that huge-ass kitchen of yours?”

“Some.” Untangling myself from him, I rise from bed and move into my closet to find a wrap. My comfort with being naked around him has vanished and been replaced by muddled thoughts. I can feel him watching me as I go, but I avoid looking at his face. I can’t be trusted when I look at him. At least I’m self-aware enough to know that Gavin makes me weak in ways I don’t allow myself to be. The past twelve hours or so excluded, of course.

As I tie the wrap securely closed, I also don that invisible armor. Padlocking the steel cage I keep around my heart, I raise my head high and pull my shoulders back, ready to face the consequences of my actions on the other side of the wall.

He’s walking out of the bathroom, the sweatpants he came in last night hanging low off his hips. It’s easier to face him when he’s dressed, but only marginally.

“Let me make you some breakfast and I’ll get the soup simmering, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Is it even still there?” I ask sarcastically, raising a hand to my head.

“It’s still there. Maybe less indulgence next time you come to one of my games, though,” he says, winking, as he walks out of the room.

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