He cuts an unhappy glance to my boot, and I carefully pull my leg back so as not to scratch his precious truck, sitting upright again, clasping my hands in my lap like a kid caught fucking up.
Can’t blame him.
I wasn’t thinking.
Must’ve been countless hours of work making it look this good. Perfect restoration, slick, detailed, shiny, clean. Probably should’ve thought twice before throwing a foot up on it.
But I like riding that way, and I was starting to feel comfortable. Not comfy now.
“Sorry.”
“All good, Cherry.”
We slow to turn left off of my old street, and right onto the next.
I’ve walked this two-lane road hundreds of times, and it’s equally peaceful with just as many oak tree roots pushing through asphalt and making the sidewalk impossible for skateboarding.
“So… what do you know about?”
“You said he puts songs together?”
“Yes.”
“I put things together.”
I’m admiring the pride in Gage’s expression, the cut of his shoulders, and his steady and sharp Adam’s apple. My voice is quieter as I ask, “Like what?”
“Things.”
“Wanna be more specific?”
“Can’t be.”
“What?”
“I put together things.”
“Yes,” I smile, “Got that.”
“Cool.”
I frown and face forward, unwilling to press further.
With all the Cocker men that are forever in my life — uncles, brothers, cousins and don't forget Grandpa, I’m used to short answers and silence when they don’t want to explain any further.
Not from my dad though. He’s always willing to talk things through.
But his twin? Uncle Justin can zip his lip better than anyone.
Except maybe Uncle Jaxson.
No, wait.
Ben has them beat.
I feel Gage looking at me, so I lock eyes with him. “Hi.”
He smiles, “Hey,” and focuses on turning into the driveway of a two-story craftsman home of twilight blue with white trim and three steps leading up.
Quick as a lightning bug I take note of its screened-in porch, two large windows on the first floor, three medium-sized on the second, and one tiny window in a tower that may or may not be a small attic. Which would make it a three-story.
Four, if there’s a basement.
I always think that counts.
No lights on here either.
Roommates not home?
Good.
I wait for Gage to jump out, come around the car to open my door — don’t even go for my handle — and when he does, I hold out my hand. Our fingers slide together and I’m pleasantly surprised to be taken into his arms for another, “Hey,” this time throatier.
I whisper, staring at his parted lips, “Hi there.”
He licks them as I watch, and inspires an ache between my upper thighs that pulls them together.
What’s he gonna do?
Kiss me?
I’m waiting to see.
Not breathing again.
His eyes are so intense.
I get lost.
Gage’s warm fingers apply more pressure into my back like they did before, when we kissed. There’s no moon out, only an antique streetlamp in the distance lighting our skin as we gaze at each other.
Watching him think is hypnotizing me. How his crocodiles flicker, eyelashes pitch black. How his cheekbones tighten. I count three tiny moles, two of them close to the sharp line where his jaw meets his neck on the right side, one by his eyebrow on the other.
My breath hitches as I’m lifted up, his hands wrapping my legs around him.
He carries me up the driveway, turning on a small path lined with darkened solar lanterns that must have their batteries out, keys jingling.
Gage rasps, “Hang on to me,” giving me a quick, rough kiss before reaching to swiftly unlock the deadbolt.
I tighten my legs, gripping onto his hard body, arms clasped around his neck, burrowing in to kiss his throbbing jugular vein as we walk inside.
He kicks the door closed, locks it while locking lips with me.
We go absolutely nuts, making out with me wrapped around him like a spider monkey, grinding my crotch against his and pulsing more in my pussy than I have in a long time.
Gage is kneading my ass and flips me around, pressing me up against his front door to get a better grind on.
“Oh my God,” I moan, crashing my lips with his again.
His hips really know how to move.
Fuck!
Wow!
I break free from the kiss, drop my legs, and go for his zipper while Gage chews on my neck, groaning, “You smell good, Cherry.”
I reach into his pants, and gasp as my fingers wrap around the widest girth they ever have.
Gage looks down.
He locks eyes with me.
“Too much?”
“I…I…we’ll see!”
Brushing his lips against mine so softly they send a shiver, he rasps, “Yes we will…”
Chapter Six
LEXI
I haven’t been with a ton of guys. My number is over five…and under ten.
Not one this big.
Gage closes his eyes, enjoying as I give his trunk a slow, stunned stroke, fingertips unable to touch each other. I’ve got small hands, but this is crazy.
And yet…
My legs feel limber.
More inclined to open.
Knees definitely weak.
Willing to spread.
In fact, my cautious pussy is becoming by every passing second one incredible throb of need.
She’s wondering why I’m hesitating. It’s because I have a brain and I’m good at math.
This cock equalsouch!
“Feels good,” he rasps, and he’s right. It does. It’s not incredibly long, which my cervix just whispered she’s grateful for. It’s the width that has my brain arguing with my crotch, Are you sure about this? You can back out now!
Brain, are you serious? Wait, you’re always serious. Not me, babe, I wanna see what happens when we climb this!
Sensing my hesitation, Gage claims me in a kiss, our bodies bent so that I can still touch his enormous cock in amazement. But his tongue is skillful, and soon I’m lost in hungry kisses that inspire heat warming my abdomen. As a result, my hand moves faster, grip tightening around his base even if my fingers can’t touch each other. As he groans, “That feels good, Cherry,” we lock eyes.
I almost laugh that it’s the perfect nickname since he’s about to make me feel like I’ve still got one.
With a slow
