A shudder rocked him right before he took control. Her head held firmly now in his palms, he tilted her slightly and slid all the way in. All the way until his abdomen pressed her lips, her mouth stretched wide.
She swallowed around his cock to stop her gag reflex from kicking in, and he trembled.
And broke.
No more slow. No more careful. Just him holding her exactly how he wanted. Plunging in deep three or four times in rapid succession followed by short, hard rocks. He pulled nearly free, resting his cock on her lower lip.
“Lick it.”
She teased. Once. Just a touch.
“Suck the head. Just the head.” His voice had gone lower. Darker.
Allison licked her lips, tracing around his cock to do so, then closed tight and obeyed. Pulse after pulse, all the while licking and playing. Teasing the slit, swallowing his precome.
“God, so close. I want to…” He dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her forward.
She opened wide and took him all the way, and his cock jerked, heat splaying against the back of her throat. The salty flavour filling her mouth as she swallowed, bits of his come escaping forward and coating his length.
He held her trapped, and she loved it. Loved how he made her feel so beautiful and satisfied. When he loosened his grasp, she licked him clean, working him gently as he softened.
Gabe dropped to his knees beside her and squeezed her tight. His heart still pounding—she felt it against her chest as he held her close.
The sun had moved slightly, and they were now in the shadows.
“It’s getting cold.”
He chuckled. “The hot sweaty part is done.”
He helped her up, brushing the dirt off her knees, this wicked grin stretching his lips.
“You look damn satisfied,” Allison teased.
Gabe smiled at her, leaning to kiss her briefly. When he pulled back, his expression had changed. “Fuck it all.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Gabe scratched his head and pointed in disgust at their clothes. “This is why you’re supposed to strip before you go skinny dipping.”
“Oh shit.”
All their clothes. Wet. Not just wet, but wet and muddy and a total mess. Somehow they had to pull that on, or at least enough to wear to get home.
Still, she had to smile. Gabe had begun to gather their things, and the first thing he’d nabbed was his hat.
“I don’t know. You look like a cowboy to me.”
He swung around, buck-naked with his hat on. His burst of laughter as he realized what she was talking about set off her own.
Even with the soaking, sticky garments she had to pull on, there was something magical about the entire morning. Frankly, she couldn’t remember laughing this much in a long time. Not since she’d heard about her mom.
The whole way back to his cabin she held on tight to the sensation.
And wondered if she was crazy to wish for more.
Chapter Sixteen
Her clothes dried during the ride home, so when she spotted Travis’s truck still parked outside, keeping a little more space between her and Gabe’s impromptu visitors seemed like a good idea.
Gabe didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue when she asked him to grab her keys. Cleaning up at her mom’s was win-win. Privacy for the guys—plus she’d have the afternoon to kick back and enjoy her mom’s company.
First, a shower. Something sticky clung between her shoulder blades. She didn’t really want to know what, she just wanted it gone.
The Parker family home on the outskirts of town had the best of both parts of Rocky Mountain House. Close enough to access the conveniences and the Timberline Grill, still able to keep horses and have more land than a city dwelling. Allison drove the back lane to the place. Safer to avoid any of the neighbours on the front street than have to explain why she looked like a wet rat.
She ditched her boots before jerking on the sticky porch screen door to wrench it open. The resulting loud creak was familiar. A kind of a homecoming.
She’d barely made it into the kitchen when her mom called from the living room. “Who’s there?”
Allison hurried forward to reassure her.
“It’s me, Mom. I’m here to hang out for a bit.” She rounded the corner, her wet socks leaving footprint marks on the kitchen floor. “I need to hop in the shower first—”
Her mom wasn’t alone in the living room. Elle and Paul were there as well. All of them perched on the edge of their seats, tension in their bodies. Elle’s and Maisey’s cheeks were wet with tears, and Paul was doing his stony-faced thing. The one he did when he didn’t want to cry.
Allison’s first thought was to ask who had died. Stupid, yes, but with the morning she’d just had, and the secrets Maisey was keeping, it took a moment for the truth to hit home.
“Oh God.” Her mom had told them.
Maisey tilted her head to the side, sniffing back more tears. She sighed, then nodded. “They know.”
Elle buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Allison crossed the room to her side and hugged her. Words just didn’t seem to be coming the way she wanted them to.
What words could possibly make this better?
It had been nearly fifteen years since their father had died. Seventeen years since his first heart attack, and Allison could still remember the turmoil they’d felt as the deterioration set in. Powerless to help him as one attack after the other followed, and his body slowly stopped following his orders.
All the emotions came back so clearly. So brutally overwhelming.
Their house, and their teenage lives, became all about trying to make Dad comfortable. Dealing with hormonal swings and issues of teenage angst were shoved aside as he demanded attention. They’d tried their best to be there for him. It had been such a long, painful journey.
Here they were on the same path, all over again.
Paul stood and paced over to the window, staring out at the fields. He coughed, but it was obvious he spoke around a throat gone tight with emotion. “Mom said there’s nothing that can be done. Do you agree?”
“I’m not mentally incompetent, Paul. Why are you asking your sister?” Maisey shook her head. “You think I’m a two-year-old and I made a mistake? I’m not stupid. I know what the doctor said. The statistics on pancreatic cancer are clear.”
“There are options. There are always options.”
“Oh, Paul. I know you want to make this better, but I already told you. I refuse to do some experimental protocol that might give me two or three more months of pain.”
He turned. “But what if—”
“No.” Maisey stood up. “No what-ifs. I’m sorry. It’s not fair, and I don’t want to die—” Her voice broke. Allison went to stand, to support her, but her mom held out a hand. “No, it’s okay. I need to make him understand. I need you all to understand. I looked at the information. I asked the questions. And I’m going to die.”
In Allison’s arms, Elle shook.
Maisey snatched up a tissue and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath before lifting her chin and continuing. “So I choose to die with as much dignity as I can. And to me that means in a way that least impacts your lives.”
“Oh God, Mom,” Paul blurt out. “You’re dying and you think it won’t impact our lives?”
“I will not be your father.” Maisey spoke each word individually. Forcefully. “I will not take and break you apart like that. I know you’re in shock, and I know this is horrifying, but please, please understand why I want this.”
Allison squeezed Elle’s shoulder for a second before releasing her and approaching Maisey. She didn’t say anything, just opened her arms and hugged the woman.