"I'm about as drunk as you are," I tell her as I manage to slide the key home.
She only responds with a gasp as I pull her in with me, kicking the door shut with my foot. Be damned my key chain still dangling from the lock on the other side.
Then Gracen is in my arms, legs locked around my waist, and I'm driving her back into the wall that sits between the foyer and dining room. The soft grunt I let out has everything to do with the fact my dick is hard and pressed right between her legs. It feels fucking awesome.
Feels better when her hands dive into my hair and clutch hard before her mouth slams down onto mine.
Christ, how could the memories have ever dulled over the years? How could I have forgotten how electric her kiss is or how perfectly we fit together?
Gracen pulls back just enough to pant, "This is probably a bad idea."
"Good idea," I insist before I curl one hand behind her neck while the other grips her bottom.
"We're opening up a can of worms," she warns breathlessly as I tilt my head and put my mouth to her neck.
"Not afraid of a few worms," I murmur against her soft skin, brushing my lips up to her ear. I touch the tip of my tongue to the tiny silver stud earring she has there, reveling in the way she shudders in response.
But just so there aren't any recriminations tomorrow, I lift my head and pull back slightly to look at her. "We're both drunk. We both want each other. We both know this shit is complicated. If you think this is truly a bad idea and we shouldn't, I'll set you down right now and we walk away."
Her eyes--those amazing, light blue eyes ringed with gold flecks that never have seemed cold at all--stare at me with such intensity the skin on the back of my neck prickles.
Gracen slides one hand to the side of my neck and tilts her head. "We can say this will be a one-time-only thing. We're drunk, inhibitions are low, and we need to get this out of our systems."
"Yeah, sounds good," I say without giving any further thought to the terrible repercussions. I want her too much to try to be all mature and reasonable right now. "And tomorrow, we'll just go back to being parents of a fantastic kid."
"I think it's a brilliant plan," she says with a drunken but bright smile that makes me feel strangely giddy for some reason.
Of course, I don't tell her this is the dumbest plan the two of us have ever concocted, and we used to do some dumb stuff when we were younger.
I don't say another word, because I'm afraid that one of us will eventually sober up enough to stop this insanity. In fact, I don't even want to waste time taking her into the bedroom.
Not that she doesn't deserve a soft mattress and a slow seduction, but I can't wait. I seriously can't fucking wait, so I pull away from the wall and carry her right into the dining room. I kick the chair on the end of the table out of the way and set her ass down, hating the loss of her heat against me.
Gracen giggles, but I ignore her. Despite how buzzed I am, my hands work remarkably well pulling her sandals off and divesting her of her shirt and bra. I take the briefest of moments to cup her breasts and Gracen's head falls back with a soft moan.
Jesus, I'm dying.
I put a hand to the center of her chest and push her back until she's lying flat on the table. I make even quicker work of her shorts, peeling them down her smooth legs and dropping them to the floor. She's left wearing nothing more than a pair of pale blue lace panties. The outside lighting around my house filters in through the large bay window behind the dining room table, making her skin glow and her eyes sparkle as she watches me.
Hooking my thumbs in her panties, I pull them down her legs as if I'm in no particular hurry, even though I want to fall inside of her right this very minute.
"You remember prom night?" Gracen asks me with her voice all husky with desire.
I look at her, halting with her underwear around her knees. I can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, I remember."
It was her senior prom. I was a sophomore in college. While I wasn't a fancy dance kind of dude, it was my sincere pleasure to take my girl, who always believed in magic and romance. She's the type who would want to lie out under the stars and talk about dreams and wishes. She wanted the beautiful dress and the college boyfriend in a tux, and I gave it to her gladly because I loved her.
It was a nice dance and I actually had fun. That night, though, I'd gotten a hotel room and we were a little tipsy from sharing some champagne I'd bought first. When things got hot and heavy between us, which never took long at all, I stripped her naked much like I did tonight. Except I was a little too eager to have at her and I tried to rip her panties off. Like, I tried to shred them, pulling hard, figuring the flimsy material would just split under the attack from my strong hockey hands.
Nope. Couldn't even get them to stretch past the elastic band.
Gracen had howled at me, rolling over onto her side and curling into a ball she was laughing so hard. She had stopped laughing when I yanked her legs apart, pulled the crotch aside, and shoved my tongue inside of her.
The memory makes me smile. An honest-to-goodness memory of Gracen not marred by any hard feelings I might be harboring.
I slide her panties free of her legs, dropping them to the floor beside her shorts. My palms go to her thighs and I test the softness of her skin by running them up until my thumbs hit her hipbones.
"You are so beautiful laid out on my dining room table," I tell her softly. Her breath hitches and her eyes flicker with heat. "My own personal feast."
Cupping her behind her knees, I spread her legs wide and press my face right into her pussy. I breathe in deep, more memories assaulting me. How many times over the years had I eaten Gracen out? Made her come with my tongue? Made her scream while fucking her with my fingers?
I touch my tongue softly to her clit and she cries out. I do it again and again and again. Moving rougher.
Faster.
Gracen's hips buck and jerk. She plants her heels on the table and tries to press herself up into me.
"Greedy," I murmur against her pussy.
Gracen was always greedy, but it was something I loved about her. I loved it because as much as she wanted my mouth on her, she loved putting her mouth on me.
She tastes and smells so fucking good that I can't help bringing my hand to my cock to rub through the material of my shorts. Turning Gracen on never failed to turn me on.
I know she's close to coming when her hands slide into my hair and she attempts to hold my face still against her. She sucks in a breath, and with a hard press of my tongue to her clit, she lets loose a long, trembling orgasm.
"I need you inside of me," Gracen moans as she shudders.
She always wanted me inside of her right after I got her off with my mouth. And she would be all hot and slick, ready for me. Demanding I fuck her hard, which would almost always make her come again really fast.
God...the memories.
I want to make her come even harder this time. I stand up straight and fumble with my zipper, pulling out my swollen dick that actually hurts when I squeeze it.
Gracen is the picture of wantonness when she spreads her legs and raises them. She's still the hottest woman I've ever known.
The most sexually in tune with herself woman I've been with.
I lean over the table and place a palm by her rib cage.
With my other hand, I press the tip of my cock right between the swollen folds of her pussy, and the sensation causes me to hiss.
"Gracen," I rasp out. "I can't wait."
Her response is to open her legs wider as she reaches up and pinches her nipples.
It's more than I can take and I slam my way inside of her.
"Oh God," Gracen yells out as I press my body down onto her, digging my elbows into the hardwood table. "I forgot how good you feel inside of me."
I'm delirious with lust, and while my brain tells me to take things slow, my balls are bursting with the need to fill her up.
Gracen takes the cho
ice out of my hands when her hands go into my hair and she talks dirty to me. "Fuck me hard, Marek. Make me come again."
Jesus.
I stand and grab her hips, pulling her to the edge of the table. My hands go under her ass and I raise her up. Tilting my pelvis back, I let my cock slide out of her pussy until it almost slips free and then I slam back into her.
Gracen shrieks and demands, "Again."
Fuck. Just fuck.
My fingers dig down into her ass muscles as I pull out and immediately punch my hips forward once again. Our skin slaps together and she orders me to do it again.
"You want me to fuck you hard?" I ask her through gritted teeth.
I don't wait for her answer, but slam into her again and again. Gracen moans beautifully while my cock rams her.
"Harder, harder, harder,"
I give it to her harder.
"Deeper."
I'm so fucking deep.
I reclaim that pussy as mine.
"Going to come again, baby," she whispers to me, and it brings me right to the fucking precipice.
It's not her tight cunt, or the way her tits jiggle as I fuck her. It's not how wet she is or how good she feels against my cock.
It's the way she just called me "baby" that has me seeing stars. My balls tighten and I lurch into her, trying to go impossibly deeper even though I'm burying myself to the root with every thrust.
Gracen screams, a tormented sound ripping out of her throat and her entire body shudders. Her pussy contracts around my cock, demanding my semen.
"Baby."
I punch my hips hard, slamming into her one last time so hard it makes the sound of a thunderclap and I unload what seems like a never-ending stream of cum into her. The pleasure ripples up my spine and I groan out the only thing I can possibly think to say, "Gracie."
My body falls on top of her. My chest presses to hers, and I can feel the reverberation of both our heartbeats.
Gracen lets out a sigh of contentment as her fingers stroke the back of my neck. I used to love just lying with her after we both came, letting my cock soften inside of her as we would become drowsy.
Man...those memories.
I stare down at Gracen. Her eyes are closed and there is a soft smile on her face. Her fingers move in lazy circles over the back of my neck down into my shoulders.
I know Gracen said that we would just get this out of our systems, but as I look down at her and feel my cock still nestled sweetly in her cunt, I know that one time is not going to do it for me. I slip my arms under her back and lift her from the table. She doesn't protest, but instead locks her legs around my waist and wraps her arms around my neck.
Silently, I carry her back through the foyer, through the formal room, and into the master bedroom. She doesn't say a word as I lay her on the bed.
Not a single thing is uttered between us as I peel off the rest of my clothes.
My cock is still half hard but nowhere near satisfied. I take it in hand and give it a few slow strokes before I raise a knee to the mattress. She scoots over to give me some room and turns on her side to watch me.
I kneel beside her, legs spread, and my palm stroking my dick lightly.
Gracen looks up to me, eyelids fluttering as she licks her lower lip. "I know what you want," she says softly.
"What's that?"
Her eyes drag down my body, where they lock onto my shaft, which is starting to lengthen under the weight her stare.
Another tiny lick to her lip.
"You want my mouth," she says assuredly. Her gaze travels back up until she staring at me with a confidence that I always loved about her. "And I want to give it to you."
I swell and harden until I've got all eight inches hovering right in front of her face. Yeah, I'm not sure two times is going to be enough to get this out of our systems.
Chapter 18
Gracen
Marek's breathing seems deep and steady, thus it's a good time to make my escape. I'm embarrassed I'm still in his bed. Even more embarrassed that I've got my head on his chest and my arm wrapped around his waist. When the morning sunlight filtered in under his roman shades and woke me up, I'd silently berated myself for still being here.
This was supposed to be a one-night-only thing, fueled by drunken desires.
That did not mean cuddling in bed, and I sure as hell don't want to face any wrath he might be feeling to find me here.
Marek's arms are stretched wide to either side of his body, so the cuddling was one-sided last night. We'd gone at each other twice more after we got into his bed, and then practically passed out from exhaustion and too much alcohol. At some point in the night, I'd unwittingly curled into him.
Now I'm uncurling.
I manage to slide out of bed without him noticing, giving one last look at his perfect body lying splendidly naked in the middle. His head is turned slightly toward the window and his chest is rising and falling deeply.
After slinking naked into the dining room, I put on my clothes that had been discarded last night. Memories of what he did to me on that table cause me to flush hot. I pick up Marek's clothes, fold them, and lay them on the table. I'll throw them into his laundry basket later.
At one point last night, Marek was tossing me around and putting me in different positions on the bed. All that sliding around left a rat's nest on my head, but nothing a little conditioner won't help right now. A soft sigh escapes at the prospect of a hot, cleansing shower to wipe away all evidence of last night so we can go back to being just parents to Lilly. Why that thought makes me so sad isn't hard to figure out, since I'm the one with residual feelings.
I tiptoe from the dining room through the formal sitting room. As I make my way past the white leather sofa separating the area from the foyer, movement from my left catches my eyes. I turn to look at the large double doors that are mostly glass, and my heart practically stops as I see Owen walking up the front porch steps.
Owen is here.
I walk quickly toward him before he can knock or ring the doorbell. As I approach, his head lifts and his eyes lock on me.
He is not happy.
I unlock the door, step onto the porch, and pull it shut behind me, cringing at the tiny tinkling of bells just inside sounding from the camera/motion detector Marek has mounted just above the door. Thank God I shut his bedroom door when I crept out; he'll sleep on oblivious.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss at him angrily.
He doesn't respond, but instead gives me a slow, cold perusal running his eyes in scrutinizing fashion from my toes to my head. His eyes linger and narrow on my breasts, and I cross my arms across them protectively.
This amuses him and his smirking gaze slides up to my face. "You're not answering my calls or texts, Gracen. What did you think I'd do?"
"Why would I answer your calls or texts?" I snap at him, but I'm still able to keep my voice low. "I told you I wasn't coming back. The wedding is off."
"Don't you love me?" he asks mockingly.
I refuse to answer him, just lifting my chin higher.
"Don't you love your parents?" he snarls, taking a step toward me. "Or did you forget I've got the power to ruin them?"
My stomach rolls with nausea over the threat to my mom and dad. I have no good comeback, because the bank has not responded to my email or follow-up call. I made my choice to potentially abandon them when I called off the wedding, and now I'm regretting that.
I decide I'm not above begging Owen. I'll plead with him not to take this out on two innocent people caught in the crossfire of this weird and volatile obsession he has with me. Perhaps he has a soul buried down deep.
But I don't get a chance to lower myself, because the door flies open and Marek is storming out onto the porch. He's got on his shorts zipped but unbuttoned, and his hair is as bad as mine. My fingers spent a lot of time there last night.
"What in the fuck are you doing on my property?" Marek barks at Owen as he positions h
imself in front of my body, shielding me completely.
"Coming to get my property," Owen sneers back, but I don't even have time to be affronted.
Marek's right arm flies and his fist connects solidly with the right side of Owen's face. There's a splatting sort of sound when knuckles hit flesh and the force of the punch spins Owen toward the front door. Marek wastes no time, grabbing Owen by the back of the shirt and spinning him swiftly the opposite way. He gives a shove to Owen's shoulder blades and he goes flying off the porch. He misses the first step, manages to land a foot on the next one, but with arms windmilling he goes sailing face first into the small area of landscaping that borders the walkway. He takes out a small azalea bush and rolls over before popping up to his feet.
Owen's a fit guy with the build of a linebacker. He's got a little brawn on Marek, and I expect him to come charging back. Instead, he rubs his fingers gingerly over his jaw and gives a condescending smile to Marek.
"Guess I know whose property she is now," Owen taunts Marek before sliding his gaze to me. "It's clear you two are fucking."
My face flushes hot with embarrassment.
"Guess it's only fitting," Owen says, then swivels his jaw a bit. "I mean, I took your sloppy seconds, Marek. They're even sloppier now."
"You're going to pay for that," Marek snarls, and starts across the porch. Rage contorts his face until I can't even recognize him.
I lurch forward and put myself in his path. My hands go to his chest and I have to lean all of my weight forward to slow him down.
But I don't stop him. His hands come to my shoulders to push me out of the way.
"Marek, please don't," I murmur to him, sliding to stand directly in front of him again. He just looks right over my head at Owen standing in the yard, his eyes blazing with an unholy sheen of violence. "He's not worth it."
A few moments roll by, and Marek doesn't move. His eyes are locked on Owen and his jaw is clenched so tight I'm afraid his teeth might crack.
"Think of the season starting," I continue in a soft voice. "You don't want to get in trouble."
I get nothing from him, muscles still coiled taut and hatred in his eyes as he glares at Owen.
"Marek," I implore, but he won't look at me. "Think of Lilly. I don't want to have to explain to her why her daddy is in jail."