I grip him firmly at the base. He doesn’t like gentle, and I’ve learned that playing with him will likely lead to my own demise. I smile as I lower my mouth over his head.
Everything settles inside me. The scent of him. The sight of this big man being brought to his knees.
The grunt he makes, and the way his hips jerk in response.
But the best part is the feel of his hand stroking my hair, like I’m cherished. He never grabs it in his fist. Never hurts me that way.
I dip my head lower, taking more of him into my mouth, slack jawed as I lower, hard suction as I lift. He loves firm strokes of my tongue over his frenulum, and his thighs clench as I do that.
“Yeah, Wild. Just like that.”
Out of habit and caution, we refer to each other using our road names out in the world to give the impression of some distance between us. I can’t remember the last time he called me Kai, or I called him Garrett, or Wild and Bear, when we aren’t alone.
Saving those names for when it’s just the two of us makes them feel even more intimate.
My cock aches. Just because I want the act to be selfless, purely for the man I hope to marry one day, it doesn’t mean there’s no physical response. My balls will ache all through dinner.
And no doubt, Garrett will tease me throughout to make it worse.
By the time we get to bed tonight, I won’t be able to wait for him to put his hands all over me, edging me until I come.
I press down on my cock, just to make it sit a little more comfortably in my jeans, then look up to his eyes. There’s a knowing in them; that I’m depriving myself to enjoy him.
This is the part of him that no one ever sees, beyond the leather and the dirt of the road. This quiet devotion to us is the man beneath. And it feels both exceptionally special and yet, also criminal that I’m the only one who gets to see him this way.
I take his cock to the back of my throat, and Garrett exhales loudly as he arches out of the chair and threads his fingers through my hair.
“Just like that,” he murmurs.
I move a little faster, squeeze a little harder, and take him even deeper.
“Wild,” he grunts as he comes, his cock throbbing in my mouth as it pulses.
I swallow everything he gives me and then suck on him gently as he smooths his hands along my hair.
Eventually, I let him fall out of my mouth and rest my head on his thigh, smelling the earthy musk of him. We sit like that for a long moment, just enjoying the closeness after the pretense of the clubhouse and outside world.
He bends to press a kiss to my temple, then leans back in the chair. “You give incredible head.”
“I know,” I mutter, then laugh against his bunched-up jeans. I lift my head and straighten them, helping them back over his hips.
“Modesty is a virtue, so I’m told.”
I lean forward and kiss him, loving the way his arms wrap around me and hold me close. “No one ever said I was virtuous.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I love you and your mouth just the way you are.”
4
ISLA
The first thing I register is the smell of old wood, damp, and lavender sachets.
Stretching my hands overhead, I smile as I try to blink myself awake. The quilt made from leftover dress scraps shifts, exposing me to the chill.
Slowly, I open my eyes and take in the brown water stain shaped like a lopsided heart on the ceiling. Is it ridiculous to think of it as some kind of blessing? Like, somehow, Nanna is looking out for me.
“Thank you, Nanna,” I say as I roll out of bed, my feet landing on the uneven hardwood. “Oof.” It’s cold. I need socks. Or shoes. Or both.
