On the Rocks (Last Call #1)(46)
Holy. Fucking. Hot.
My dick swells violently and I start to sit up to attack her, when her hand reappears. She bends forward and runs her wet finger across the tip of my cock, and I am absolutely mesmerized by the sight.
“I think I’m ready for you,” she whispers as she looks up to me.
“Oh God… that is so f*cking hot. I think if you touch me right now, I might come.”
She laughs in delight over my proclamation, although I’m not kidding… I can feel a prickle already at the base of my spine, and she has hardly touched me.
Gabby crawls up my body and straddles me, setting down low and rubbing herself against me. The friction of her lace panties, which I can feel are indeed soaking wet, causes me to groan while my hands come up to grip her hips.
I don’t know that I’ve ever been hornier in my entire life, and I ache deeply for her.
“Gabby… get your underwear off… please,” I practically beg her.
She looks at me, her eyes gentle with understanding. “It’s not needed.”
What? Huh? Is she saying we aren’t going to have sex?
Oh, hell no.
I start to sit up to roll her over and pound my way inside of her, but she rises up over my lap and takes my cock in her hand. With her other hand, she merely reaches down and pulls her underwear aside before settling down on the very tip of me.
Holding her gaze, not for a moment daring to look away, I’m enraptured by the desire in her eyes as she lowers herself over me, the lace of her panties stretched to the side to accommodate my length.
Both of us can’t suppress our moans as she seats herself fully on me, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek not to blow inside of her. Thankfully, she holds still for just a moment, her eyes closing while she relishes the feel of me inside her.
When her eyes open up, they are nuclear… flames of lust leaping out. She rises up over me and comes back down slowly, causing my own eyes to roll into the back of my head.
My voice sounds garbled when I try to talk. “Gabby… feels good… don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” she assures me as she picks up the pace.
How I hold off my orgasm is beyond me, but I have to make sure she gets there before me… preferably with me. My fears are unfounded though, because the faster Gabby f*cks me, the faster I can see her building up. Her telltale signs are a high blush that sits on her cheeks and spreads down her throat to her chest. I know she’s close. When I reach out a hand and press it up against the juncture of her thighs, she slams down on me hard and starts to climax. That tips me straight over the edge and I grab her hips again, thrusting up inside her a few more times before I start to come, my orgasm ricocheting through my body almost painfully.
Utterly spent, Gabby falls forward on my chest and I hug her tight to me. After our breathing returns to normal, I shift so we are on our side and tuck her in tighter to me. I know I should head home, so I can be there if John and Sasha need something, but for the life of me, I can’t find it within me to care enough to move from this embrace.
I’m fixing this shit with Casey, and I’m fixing it now. I awoke this morning with my heart feeling lighter, particularly on the heels of Hunter assuring me that Casey was just hurt because we kept this secret, and not because she doesn’t want me with her brother. I still have a little fear over that, but there’s no way to know for sure unless I go talk to her.
As soon as my alarm went off at six AM, I pushed Hunter out of my bed—yes, he stayed all night—and I grabbed a quick shower because I was eager to start the day. I didn’t even bother to dry my hair, letting it hang wet down my back, and I was out the door, munching on an apple for breakfast.
It’s almost seven AM by the time I make it to the Markham residence in the tiny town of Avon, which sits on Hatteras Island where we all grew up. The classic stilt house that sits two streets off the ocean is weathered and worn, but you can tell just by looking at it that there’s a lot of love inside. You can see glimpses of the Atlantic from the back porch, and the blue waters of the Pamlico Sound from the front porch, making it an idyllic location. Even though Hunter and I live in Nags Head now—which is slightly more exciting than Avon—we still spent a lot of time on Hatteras Island because our parents are still there. In fact, my mom lives just three streets over but she’s out of town on a trip to Atlantic City with her poker buddies. Otherwise, I’d be stopping in to pay her a visit, too.
I park my car in the sandy driveway and walk up the long flight of steps to the front porch. When I ring the bell, I’m greeted by Casey’s mom, Lillian. She’s a nurse at The Outer Banks Hospital, and I wasn’t sure if she’d be on shift or not. I didn’t expect her dad, Butch, to be home. He’s a fisherman and would be out on the water at dawn. Hunter, Brody, and Casey definitely got their coloring from their mother… golden hair streaked by the sun and glorious blue eyes. They got their love of the water from their dad, just in the form of surfing rather than fishing.
“There’s my girl,” Lillian says as she opens the door wider, and I step into the warm hug she offers me. “I heard you and Casey got into a spat last night.”
I figured Lillian would know, just assuming Casey came home and sobbed on her mom’s shoulder. They were very close and shared pretty much everything.