Page 25 of Cascade

But now isn’t the time to figure all that out. I palm my dick, hissing at the sensitive reaction to being touched after throbbing in my pants for so long. “Hey, Precious,” I say, my voice low, almost a growl. She doesn’t open her eyes, but sort of mumbles, still catching her breath. I tap my cock against her thigh a few times. “You ready for this?”

That gets her attention and her eyes fly open, focused on my pulsing junk as I stroke myself. Kneeling over her like this, I feel filthy, but Opal is into it. She licks her lips and meets my eye, reaching out one hand to dance her fingers lightly along my thigh. “What’sthis?” she asks, and I keep jacking myself with my hand as I look around her room. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to find until I see the little jar on her night stand.

“Opal, I want you to get that almond oil,” I tell her, sinking back onto my heels, stroking while she struggles to sit up and do as I say. “Now rub it all over your chest. Pinch your nipples while you do it. Fuck. Yes, baby.” God, she’s hot as she dips her finger into the jar. She once told me she keeps that stuff by her nightstand for her hands, as a moisturizer. Her skin gets dried out from the rubber gloves at work, she said. Now she’s slicking herself up for me, groaning as she pulls and pinches at her dark pink nipples.

I reach out one hand to cup her breast, feeling the hefty weight of her soft skin in my hand. “Don’t stop,” I tell her when she looks up at me. She nods and her breath starts to come a little faster. I see her chest rise and fall in the low light from her small bedside lamp. Her skin starts to glisten and I growl, pouncing on her as I capture her mouth. “I want you to press those perfect tits together,” I pant, and she does as I ask.

I position myself on her chest, my knees on either side of her ribs, and I slide the tip of my cock in between the tight channel between her trembling, slick skin. “Opal, yes,” I groan. I lean forward and brace my weight on her headboard, staring down at the magnificent, obscene sight of my dick disappearing in between Opal’s breasts. I hear her breathy moans and then she tilts her head just so and her tongue pokes out, catching the tip of my cock as I thrust. “Oh, god, yes. Do that again, Precious. God, yes!”

Each time I glide forward, Opal reaches out and swirls her tongue around my tip. I am overwhelmed by how sexy this feels, to have her at my mercy like this and yet totally in control of my pleasure. She starts taking me deeper into her mouth each time I thrust, forming a tight suction with her plump lips. After a few minutes, I can’t hold back anymore. “Opal,” I pant. “I’m going to come, baby.” My hips are jerking involuntarily and with a wet sound, Opal pops her mouth off the tip of my cock.

“Do it,” she says. “Come for me, Archer.” I groan at the sound of her words, trying to breathe out of my nose slowly, like when I’m on a long run trying to conserve my energy. But I’m about to lose it. She lets go of her tits and slaps my ass and yells. “Fucking come, Archer!” And I do. I feel the ripple begin deep in my balls and then I pull back a bit, my slick cock in my hand as ropes of my hot release paint Opal’s skin. Again and again, my sticky pleasure pulses onto her, splattering on her tits, her throat. A white bead lands on her lip and she meets my eye as she sticks out the tip of her tongue, lapping it up.

I am gone. Finished. I collapse next to her heaving. The intensity of what we’ve done exhausts me and I know the gentlemanly thing to do is to go get her a warm washcloth, but fuck if I can manage that. Opal’s eyes flutter, like she’s as spent as I am. “Gaahhhhhh,” I groan. One of us has to get up and wipe up my mess so I can tuck her under my arm and fall asleep in here.

I make my way to Opal’s bathroom and grab a paper towel. It’ll have to do, and I run it quickly under the tap. I feel the cat circling my ankles as I start to walk back, but I can’t drum up the energy to shoo him away, so he follows me into the bedroom. “Here, baby,” I say, mopping at her chest with the towel. She’s half asleep, blissed out. One eye cracks open and she notices the cat, who mews from the foot of the bed.

I toss the paper towel into the trash and the cat stretches, spinning around a few times before settling directly in the spot where I intended to spoon Opal. “Is that Oscar,” she asks, sitting halfway up, propped on one elbow so her breasts move while she talks. Her skin is lightly pink now from the rigorous rubbing and cleanup. If I keep staring at her I’m going to get hard again and I’m not sure I have another round in me.

“Yeah, Precious. I’m sorry. He followed me in here.” I crawl into the bed, delicately placing myself between Opal and the edge, nudging her closer to the cat, who yowls and crawls around up to where I’m resting my head.

“But...he never comes in here with me,” she says, looking around, confused.

I tuck her against my chest, trying to ignore the cat tail flicking my face as I wedge into the bed. “I don’t know, babe,” I mumble. Opal is totally nude, and I savor the soft weight of her as I pull her tight against my body.

I wrap both arms around her and drift off, but as I’m falling asleep I hear her say, “My cat actually likes you. Oscar doesn’t like anyone.” She considers for a bit and the last thing I remember is her mumbling, “Now I can’t get rid of you or I’ll lose Oscar entirely.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Opal

I WAKE IN a panic, tangled with sheets and Oscar and Archer. This was not supposed to happen. This was not what Pam and I discussed when we made a plan. She got me to admit that I am interested in Archer Crawford. I mean, obviously I’m interested in him for sex. My cheeks heat a little bit thinking of what we did last night. The way he wanted me so badly.

He was raw and almost brutal and it turned me on so much. I told Pam I’ve never experienced attraction or chemistry like this. But I also told her how very little I allow myself to trust anyone. I have exactly one example of a living being coming through for me, and that is Oscar. And, to be frank, I don’t expect a whole lot from him.

I don’t want to live this way anymore,I told Pam. Archer murmurs in his sleep and rolls onto his stomach, tossing one arm over my stomach as he does so. The sheet falls away and I stare at the taut swell of his butt. I reach out and give it a pat, enjoying the firm feel of him, his warmth.

Pam and I discussed small steps I could take toward building trust. Testing the waters one toe at a time. “I was going to try sending you a text,” I whisper, tracing my hand through the dark hair at the base of his neck.

My phone buzzes on the night stand and Archer groans. “Too early,” he mumbles, and swats at me as I lean over him to grab it.

“I’m a midwife,” I say. “I can’t ignore calls.” I see that it’s his sister, Diana, and frown. She never calls. “Hey,” I say by way of greeting. “What’s up?”

“I’m hosting a damn baby shower,” she says. “I don’t know what that means and I wondered if you could help.”

“Oh,” I say, pausing to collect myself after this surprising request. “I guess so? What do you need?”

“That’s the thing,” Diana sputters. “Indigo has the food and venue and stuff all on lock. It’s my mother who has me all confused. She suggested something called a blessing way? It all sounds like unbearable woo to me, and I grow pot for a living.”

This makes me laugh, which makes Archer smile, and he starts to move his hands along my naked body while I talk. I squirm, distracted. “Well I do know about blessing way ceremonies.” I start to tell her how she will need to reach out to the women attending the shower, gather some of their birth stories. See if Abigail wants people to bring meaningful beads to make a bracelet to wear during labor. Archer climbs on top of me in the middle of all that and starts to nibble at the skin on my stomach and then he yowls when I pinch him to try to make him stop.

Diana sounds like she’s taking notes. “Ok, I’ll ask her about the beads. Maybe you can write the email for me to send to the women? Ew. Is that my brother there with you?”

I pinch Archer again and gesture for him to be quiet, but hearing Diana through the phone he decides to blow a raspberry on my stomach and says, “Hey, sis.”

“Gross, Opal. God. Also, ask my brother if he’s on board again to be the Claus.”

I arch a brow in confusion and look at him. He nods and I relay the cryptic message. “Good,” Diana says. “Mary Pat has been asking. She said the spreadsheet is already getting full. Anyway, I’m going to go pour bleach in my ears and try to forget I heard my brother’s pillow talk sounds.” She hangs up before I can try to pivot back to Abigail’s shower.

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