The Lucky Ones(26)

“Roland...”

He lifted his head and looked down at her. When she didn’t say anything more, he twined a lock of her hair around his finger, brought it to his lips and kissed the tip. Then he let it go and touched her shoulder instead. He slid a finger under the strap of her camisole top and pulled it down her arm until he’d bared her breast. Allison’s whole body, inside and out, was beset with flutters. Heart flutters, stomach flutters—every nerve inside her fluttered.

Roland lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth and sucked it deeply and slowly and for a very long time. She caught his hair in her hand again and held him to her chest. He’d been the object of her first fantasies and she’d wanted him to be her first. That hadn’t happened, but now she had the chance and the choice to let him be her second. She wanted that and he clearly did. Was it wrong? Maybe. But she wasn’t going to worry about that now. Plenty of time for second-guessing later.

Allison let him undress her completely and watched without comment as he took his clothes off. He had an impressive body—muscular arms, stomach, thighs. And if there was any part of her that still thought of him as a kid, it was long gone by the time he joined her on the bed again.

She reached for the lamp to turn it off and he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. It shocked her into awareness again, and she looked at him in confusion.

“Leave it on,” Roland said softly, though it was clearly an order and not a request. “I want to watch you.”

There was a world of difference between the statements “I want to see you” and “I want to watch you,” and Allison felt that difference right in her core. The first was flirtatious, a compliment. The second would scorch the earth to bare rock and the smoke would smolder for days if you let it. Allison let it.

Oh, no, they were definitely not kids anymore.

He parted her legs with his knees and pressed two fingers inside her. His hands were large, his fingers thick and long and rough from work. The slow penetration was pure erotic pleasure. As he explored inside her, stroking her carefully but deeply, her head fell back. She noticed for the first time that hanging from the ceiling was a green glass dragon, with its delicate wings spread wide. The window had been left open a crack and a cool breeze snuck inside and set the dragon to flying. Beautiful, it was all so beautiful.

“It feels so good inside you,” Roland said into her ear. “Too good. Makes me forget things.”

“Like you’re a Brother and I’m your sister?”

“Yeah,” he said. He almost smiled, but didn’t.

“I’ve already forgotten both.”

Though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but compare him to McQueen. McQueen had sex the way other men went on morning jogs. It was physical. Exertion plus release equaled a happy, healthy Cooper McQueen. He paid for the use of her body the way other men paid for gym memberships and personal trainers. He used her; he used her well and often. His pleasure was paramount, hers was peripheral. She’d never minded, even enjoyed it if she were honest with herself. But it was different with Roland. The way Roland touched her, looked at her, held her... This was important to him. This mattered.

Roland moved over her slowly, kissing her breasts again and her stomach, before lying between her open legs to kiss her inside. He murmured a sound of approval at the first taste of her.

And he was in no hurry, either. He lingered between her thighs, licking and kissing and opening her until she was nearly out of her mind with impatience.

“Roland,” she said, and that was all it took. He rose up and crawled over her, nudging her legs wider with his knees until he rested into the cradle of her thighs. Slowly he pressed inside her, inching in, turning the tumblers one by one until they were locked together, locked and joined, joined and coupled. He pressed into her again and she wrapped her legs over his hard thighs. She lifted herself against him to tell him she wanted this as much as he did. As much and more.

For those first few taut moments of penetration, Roland didn’t kiss her. Allison lay back on the pillow and he held himself up on one arm over her, and they simply watched each other.

“You okay?” he asked. She nodded. “This isn’t too weird, is it?”

“Nah,” she said, smiling up at him. “It’s just weird enough.”

His knuckles grazed her cheek. She felt simultaneously aroused and sleepy. Now that they were over the initial awkwardness, it felt perfectly natural having Roland inside her body. They fit. They fit so well she wondered if this was how it had to be. She had to leave as a child so she could come back to him a woman. Thirteen years ago, a moment of awkward fumbling had left them both miserable and ashamed. Now as adults, there was nothing in their coupling but pleasure, utter pleasure, and no pain or shame at all.

Roland lowered himself onto her again and kissed the breath out of her. When she tried to run her fingers through his hair, he caught her by the wrist and pressed it into the bed. His hands were large and powerful, but gentle, too, so that it didn’t feel like he was holding her down, but simply holding her. She turned her head and kissed his inner bicep, a long, lingering kiss that left him panting, lips parted and eyes closed. He was so beautiful. For a second she was that twelve-year-old girl again, discovering for the first time how beautiful her eldest foster brother was, how handsome and strong. She needed him like she’d needed him that day, and he put up no fight when she pushed him on his back and sat astride him.