Gibson Boys Box Set Page 12

  “Just seeing if you really want me,” she teases. Before I can stop her, she’s swirling her tongue along the head like it’s a Popsicle.

  “Sienna,” I groan, flexing my hips forward. “Stop.”

  “Stop talking.”

  “Well played,” I say, accepting my own words back at me as I fight the urge to fuck her mouth. She’s every wet dream and grounded hope I’ve ever had, all wound up in this gorgeous body. It’s almost too damn much to take.

  Looking at me through her thick, black lashes, she licks up the length and then drops her mouth over my swollen head. As she starts to take me in again, I clasp my hands under her arms and tug her to her feet.

  Walking away, feeling her silent objection behind me, I dig through a drawer in the back and retrieve a condom. Ripping the package open and rolling the rubber over myself, I’m ready to turn around when her hands wrap around me and lay on my stomach.

  She strokes the lines in my abdomen, her touch soft against the harshness of her breath whispering against the middle of my back.

  “I want you, Walker,” she says, pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades.

  Knowing myself too well and that I’ll start tripping up if I allow those words to settle, I whirl around. “I know you want me. You just came all over my face.”

  The sting of her smack adds to the flame in my gut that’s already burning entirely too hot.

  “The nice thing would be for you to say you want me too,” she says, forcing a swallow.

  “Come on,” I sigh, pointing at my dick. “Does this look like it wants you?”

  “Of course it does. But do you?”

  I can’t answer that. Instead, I sweep her into the air, her legs locking around my waist. I’m surrounded by her sweet scent, the pulsing of her pussy riding up against my dick. She’s wet, so damn wet, that she slides up and down my shaft with every movement.

  Just this feels good, so fucking good, that for the first time in a long damn time I don’t care about anything or anyone other than the two of us in this room right now.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” I breathe, my teeth nipping at her ear. She squeals and tries to move away, only giving our bodies more friction to work with.

  Her heels locked at my back, her nails digging into my skin, I crash my mouth onto hers. She meets it with matching eagerness. Need and lust make me dizzy, blocking out everything but what comes next.

  Spinning us around, her foot catching a tray of bolts and screws and knocking it to the floor, I scramble to find somewhere to sit her. Pin her. Lay her out for the taking because if anything is true, it’s that I’m gonna fucking take her.

  Our breathing is ragged, her hands yanking on my hair to lift my chin for more access to my mouth. She kisses me like a starved woman and I’m the last oasis in the desert.

  “Get. Inside. Me,” she begs between breaks in the kisses.

  “Stop being so bossy,” I say, tugging at her bottom lip.

  “You apparently need told since it’s taking you so long.”

  Slamming her back against the wall, I pin her and dig between us, freeing my cock, and lining it up with her opening. It’s my intention to take it easy, to go slow and enjoy it, but the frenzy of the moment puts all of that aside.

  With a slight twist of her hips, she sinks down. Taking me in with a sharp gasp, her fingernails biting into my shoulder, she arches her back and takes in as much as she can get.

  “Walker!” she yells, a stuttered breath punctuating the final syllable.

  “Is that hard enough?”

  “Ahhh …”

  “Come on, Slugger,” I tease. “Words or else I’ll think you’re speechless.”

  “Never,” she manages to eke out as her eyes roll to the back of her head.

  My hips flex, giving my cock to her with a brutal urgency. She groans, her eyes giving up and staying closed, as I press into her like I’ve wanted to since the first night I saw her.

  She squeezes around me, the muscles of her pussy pulsing. Grasping under her ass, holding her up, she grips my shoulders and holds herself in place as I pound her into the wall.

  “I’m not hearing anything,” I say through gritted teeth. “Don’t let me down now.”

  “Can. You. Go. Harder?” she asks, her tone coated with a plea for more.

  “You sure?” I slam into her so hard I think I’m going to break her.

  “Yes,” she almost whines. “Like this.”

  The clock to the right of her head bangs against the drywall with the rhythm, the metal table beside us clamoring with each thrust. It’s a dizzying staccato effect, an almost musical element to the situation. As she constricts harder, her moans getting louder and more urgent, I suck in a beaded nipple and feel her come apart on my cock.

  Her body gushes over me, the force of the ejaculation almost shoving me out of her. I drive harder into her, nipping and kissing my way from her breast to her mouth, swallowing her pleasured moans.

  As she goes limp, letting me hold almost all of her weight up on my hands, her head falls onto my shoulder. I have to move, change things up, before this is all I remember.

  Gazing across the garage, I spot an old eighties Corvette Peck has been restoring for someone in town. The curves in the hood almost make a makeshift alley for a body. Walking over to the hood, my feet slapping against the cool concrete, I lay her down on the hood of the car.

  Her eyes go wide as she squirms against the sleek carbon fiber material. “What are you doing?” she asks, cupping her breasts in her hands. They spill over her fingers, a decided difference from the flatness of her stomach. “Isn’t this someone’s car?”

  “Yes, it’s someone’s car. And I’m going to lay you down on the hood and make you come all over it. Sound good?”

  Her eyes roam my body, down my jaw, across my shoulders complete with the imprints of her fingernails, and down the lines of my abs. She flicks her gaze back to mine, her legs falling to the sides. “You going to start now or what?”

  A victorious smile stretches across my face and it’s reflected on hers. Bending over, I press a kiss against her lips as I find the opening of her pussy and work my cock back inside. It’s tighter now than it was.

  Grabbing her hips and pulling her down the hood, I position her calves on my shoulders. Her tits bounce as I drive into her. “You feel so good,” I tell her, my brain getting fuzzy as I get lost in the rhythm.

  My balls slap off her ass, her body squeaking against the car as I deliver us both higher and higher towards climax. Her blonde hair with faded purple streaks looks like a halo against the black paint of the ‘Vette, her porcelain skin like an angel.

  Digging my hands into the dips of her hips, I hold her in place as I drive into her pussy. Each thrust, each penetration into her delectable body, brings me closer to the edge.

  “I …” she says, trying to warn me she’s going to come. But I know. I can feel it. “Ah …” She moans, lifting her hips even higher.

  Stroking as deep as I can get, hitting the back wall of her body, I feel the gush of her orgasm just as mine hits.

  Her legs stiffen against my shoulders, her back arching off the car. She shouts my name, along with a stream of unmentionables, as I unload into the condom.

  The orgasm feels like it’s ripping me apart, decimating every cell in my body, yet the best part might be watching her fall to pieces. The way her full lips part, her cheeks flush, a gloss of sweat dots her forehead. Knowing the contented look on her face is because of me is, quite possibly, the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.

  And then it’s over.

  My blood still roaring through my veins, unable to find its equilibrium, I pull out with a gentleness so as not to hurt her. Still, she gasps, sitting up and looking mildly embarrassed.

  I want to tell her not to be, that she just gave me the best orgasm of my life. That I’ll never look around this building and not think about the way she looked on the hood of this car. But I don’t. Because I’m
a dick. I have to be.

  Guilt hitting me head-over-fist, I know what I have to do, even if I really don’t want to do it.

  “Need a hand?” I ask, offering her one.

  She takes it and scoots off the car. Looking back at where she just lay, she bites her lip. “Can we, like, buff out where my body was?” she says, peering up at me.

  “I’ll do it later.”

  “I’d rather no one sees that, you know.”

  Instead of telling her there’s no fucking way I’d let anyone see that, I shrug. “I’ll get it tonight. No worries.”

  Sienna watches me for a long moment. “So, what now?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what now’?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she means. I also know what I need to do. I have to turn away from her to do it. “Now you leave.”

  I cringe as the words fall out of my mouth, hang my head as I say them. She doesn’t say anything and I close my eyes and wait for it.

  “Well, okay then. Now I leave.”

  “Sienna …” I swing around on my heel, my heart striking so hard I think she has to hear it. There’s nothing I want more than to pull her against me, hold her, tell her how amazing she is. But what good would that do? None. “Um, thanks again for helping me tonight.”

  She smiles, but it’s not the sweet grin I’m used to. It’s cold. Angry. Embarrassed. “Sure. No problem.”

  She scoops up her clothes and disappears into the lobby. I see the light flip on in the bathroom as I get dressed. After a little bit, the door opens and the light goes off and I make out her shadow as she heads to the front door.

  She pauses, maybe waiting on me to stop her. My hand reaches for the door, maybe to take her up on that. But for the first time in a while, my body and brain are on the same page and I do us both a favor and don’t. I just watch her go to her car, making sure she makes it safely inside, and then pick up a hammer and chuck it against the wall.

  Fourteen

  Sienna

  “I hate this for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t love it for me either,” I laugh, looking across the table at Delaney.

  Shoving the food into my mouth, I settle back in the cozy chair of Peaches, a warm buzz settling over me from the glass of wine I’ve already consumed.

  Peaches is a quaint, oddball place in Merom that serves a little of everything. Want pizza? They have it. Mexican? There are offerings. A sandwich? Some of the best I’ve ever had. It was the first place Delaney brought me when I got here last year and it’s remained my favorite spot, especially on the weekends when I can people-watch.

  Tonight, the tables are all but full with patrons ranging in every age group and demographic. Even the area reserved for large parties is bustling with a group of screaming kids with baseball hats. The chaos is just what I need to lift my mood and keep me from going home and overanalyzing this thing with Walker until I’m ready to cry like the girl I’m not. Like the girl I refuse to be.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, running a finger around the rim of her glass.

  “Not without more wine.”

  “I should’ve known something was wrong when you already had a glass sitting there when I walked in.”

  Motioning to Chester as he looks up from the table he’s cleaning, I gesture for two more glasses of white wine and then turn my attention back to Delaney.

  She wastes no time getting to the point. “How was it?”

  “We really need to separate this into ‘sex’ and ‘after sex,’” I say and then take another bite of my dinner.

  “Let’s start with sex.”

  “Unforgettable,” I offer. “Amazing. I’ve never felt so … catered to. Does that make sense?”

  “It makes me jealous.”

  I fall back in my seat. “You know how sex can be almost transactional? Like you’re with a guy and it’s hot and then it’s over and there’s really nothing there. You might sleep with him again, but it’s an exchange of an orgasm.”

  “Yes. And for one, I appreciate those.”

  “I have nothing against them,” I tell her. “But this … I don’t know. It just felt like there was a connection. He kissed me, you know? A lot. Touched me. Caressed me, even. It wasn’t just fireworks and explosions. There were moments that felt like … moments.” I look at my wine glass and wish it were full already.

  “I don’t see the need for all the wine,” she points out.

  “Because we haven’t gotten to ‘after sex’ yet.” My fork hits my plate with a clatter. “You know what he said to me? He said, ‘Now you leave.’”

  The words sound as harsh coming from me as they did from him but hearing them the second time just makes me angrier.

  “He did what?” she exclaims.

  “You heard me right,” I laugh. “He told me it was time for me to go. Fucking asshole.”

  “Who’s an asshole?” Chester sets two glasses of wine on the table. With his white-blond hair, bright blue eyes, and thin frame, he’s the polar opposite of Walker. Still, he’s charismatic and handsome in a metrosexual kind of way and someone I’ve found minorly attractive. Until now. Now, nothing is even presentable if he’s not wearing a black t-shirt and a scowl.

  “So, asshole?” he repeats.

  Delaney gives me a sideways glance. “Do you know Walker Gibson?”

  “Lives over in Linton, right?” Chester asks. “Runs a car shop or something?”

  “That’s him,” she confirms.

  “I don’t know Walker personally, but his brother, Machlan, the one who owns the bar over there—he and I were in school at the same time. He’s mean as hell,” he laughs. “A good guy, I think. I’ve never had an issue with him. But I’ve seen him in a few situations that I was really, really glad I wasn’t on the other end of his fury, you know?”

  “But what kind of guy is Walker?” Delaney presses. “Would you want your little sister dating him?”

  “I don’t know much about him like that,” he says. “Why? Is he the asshole?”

  “No,” I say, injecting myself into the conversation. God knows what Delaney might say. “We just saw him the other night and were wondering about him. That’s all.”

  “Well, I’m not an asshole. Just for the record,” Chester winks.

  As he scampers off, I look across the room. The kids are thinning out from the pizza party, just a few adults and colorful balloons left behind. I’m turning away when my eyes lock on Peck’s. He’s leaning over the bannister, a hat matching the kids’ on his head, his hands locked in front of him. An inquisitive look is painted on his face before he turns his attention to a kid jumping up and down, tugging on his shirt.

  My stomach drops, not wanting to deal with any more Gibson boys tonight.

  Giving him a little wave, I face Delaney and down half of the fresh glass of wine.

  “Whoa,” she says, eyes wide. “What’s that about?”

  “Peck is over there,” I mumble, hoping he’s not still watching and can’t read lips. “I can’t deal with any more of them tonight.”

  “Heya, Slugger.” Peck’s at my side before I know what’s happening, scooting himself into the booth beside me like we’re old friends. “What’s happening?”

  “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

  He laughs in his easy way, running a hand through his floppy hair. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Having dinner with Delaney,” I say, nodding across the table. “Delaney, this is Peck. I know y’all met the other night, but, you know, we’re all here, sober, so …”

  “Nice to meet you again,” Peck whistles.

  “Likewise.” Delaney tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sienna has told me a lot about you.”

  “Have you?” he looks at me. “It better have been good.”

  “Of course it was good. What could I possibly say bad about you?”

  “This is why I like you,” he says, bumping my shoulder with his. “So, what’s happening?” />
  “Not much. Why are you here?”

  “End of the year baseball party. Fun times, y’all. Fun times.” He cranks his neck, strumming his fingers on the back of the booth. “How’d work go today?”

  He’s clearly prodding for information, sensing something is off. Peck usually isn’t serious, nor does he care about how work went today. Him asking this makes me curious.

  “Got a tractor in,” I say simply. “Walker spent the day on that.”

  “Ah, shit. Those are a bitch. I wish he would’ve called. I could’ve skipped out on the end-of-the-year party for the little league if he had.”

  Taking a deep breath, I lift my glass to my lips and try not to squeeze the glass until it snaps. “I went back tonight and helped him.”

  “You helped him? Work on the tractor?”

  “I’m going to use the ladies’ room,” Delaney cuts in. “Be back in a minute.”

  I wait until she’s gone before I continue, my stomach sloshing with wine and anxiety, the acid almost starting to burn. “He’s a complete asshole, Peck.”

  Peck leans away as if he needs the room to comprehend this announcement. “Okay. What the hell happened?”

  I sigh, taking the drink I’ve been holding. The liquid rolls down my throat with ease, the two glasses before this one making it an easy trek. My fingertips are warm; a slight numbness I’ve been chasing all evening washes over me.

  “You okay?” he asks, a look of concern settling over his features. “How many glasses have you had?”

  “Not enough.”

  “What the hell did he do?”

  My laugh displays the fury I’m trying to keep in check, the load of embarrassment that’s turned to so much anger I can barely hold it in. “I’m over it.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yup.”

  “Look, Sienna,” Peck stumbles, getting comfortable in his seat. “I don’t know exactly what just went down, but please stay cool.”

  “Stay cool?” I ask. “He just fucked me and then dismissed me, Peck. My ability to stay cool is broken.”

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters, resting his forehead on the table.