Page 22 of Grip Me Tight
His teeth graze my inner thigh and I moan aloud, not caring if the entire party wanders down to the boathouse at that minute. My hands come to his head, and I thread the dark silk through my fingers, not quite daring to show him what I want. “Tanner,” I pant, shifting restlessly beneath him.
“I’m aching too, Silver. I’ve wanted this forever.”
His words send my brain spinning and I nearly yank him up to demand an explanation but then he dips his head, licking me like the hot fudge on the back of a spoon and I nearly come apart. At the same time, he slides one finger inside me, adding a second, the slow pump of his hand making me moan again. His tongue flicks against my clit before circling the aching nub, the pressure so perfect I want to cry. I buck against his mouth, and he deepens the sensual kiss, licking and sucking like a starved man. My body begins to shake, and he holds my legs open, pressing down against my straining muscles, working my pussy with his tongue and fingers as sensation starts to roll over me, driving me up, up into the stars until the pressure breaks in a shattering orgasm.
Tanner lays his cheek on my stomach while I languidly comb my fingers through the thick silk of his hair. I want to pull him up to me, over me, and feel that hard body moving against me, inside me.
Instead, he plants a hand on either side of me and lifts himself up, crawling up to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Fireworks are about to start.”
“I thought they already happened.”
He laughs softly, dipping his head to brush his mouth over mine when a rustling noise from the path causes us to freeze.
11
Tanner
The smell of bacon makes my stomach rumble and I take a plate of pancakes and a large bowl of strawberries from Emma as she tries to balance them with a bowl of cream.
She beams at me and hands the cream and a jug of orange juice to Noah. “Take these to the dining room. Dad’s just finishing up the bacon.”
It’s been a couple of days since the party and we’re gearing up to leave for Chicago. We have a two-night show there and I want to get in at least a day early. I need to recover from being here, the homeyness of Emma’s cooking, lazy days by the pool and the feeling of normal that’s wrapped around us. Laird and the rest of the guys left the morning after the party, laughing and joking about cancelling the Chicago shows and just moving into the lake house for the rest of the summer. My bag is packed but I promised Emma and Don I would stay and visit for a couple days and the truth is, I don’t want to leave.
Even though I know I should.
Especially after my near heart attack down by the boat house the other night. I still have the grass-burn on my elbow from flinging myself down over Sterling’s naked body and my pulse didn’t return to normal for a long while, despite hearing her choked giggle when she saw the beaver cut out from the shore and waddle down the slope into the lake.
The rustling could have been anything or anyone. My stomach churns at how reckless I was, stripping her bare under the stars, and losing myself in her pleasure. It could have been Emma who wandered down that path to see what was keeping us. I can picture the disappointment in her eyes, hear the anger in Don’s voice, if they ever found out I had any kind of thought for Sterling beyond something brotherly.
Don places the bacon on the table, slapping Noah’s hand as he snags a piece off the plate, and takes his position at the end. Sterling sits next to him, across the table from Noah, her hair shielding her face. I haven’t even spoken to her since the night of the party. Yesterday she spent the day with Claire, and then she and Don took Claire to the airport last night. I’m not certain when she got back, but she didn’t come looking for me.
Not that I was waiting up for her. I just couldn’t fall asleep. And I was thirsty at least three times and needed a fresh glass each time from the kitchen.
This morning is like any normal brunch with the family, except I’m tempted to sweep the plates onto the floor and claim Sterling as mine in front of everyone. Instead, I tear my eyes away from the way her hair curves over her cheek, remembering the way it felt twined around my fingers. I switch my focus to the sun streaming in through the corner windows, mentally counting the individual square panes as I load up my plate with pancakes and bacon, wishing like hell I’d never had a chance to taste her sweetness. To hear her soft cries as she pants my name.
I don’t regret her pleasure but now I don’t know how I can ever go back to pretending I’m just Noah’s best friend. I don’t know how I’ll ever move on when I hear she’s brought home some guy who isn’t actually a jerk. Darkness fills my chest at the thought, and I cram some bacon in my mouth while watching Sterling lick a drop of syrup from her fork. I shift uncomfortably in my chair trying to force the perpetual hard-on I’ve had since the party into submission.
Thank god we’re leaving soon.
“…so, did you want me to tell him anything?”
I snap back to the conversation only to see everyone, except Sterling who is fixated on her plate, looking at me. “Sorry, man. What was that?”
Noah takes a swig of coffee. “Laird called and said Avery quit the tour. Apparently, she’s pregnant and her doctor advises against flying to Europe right now.”
I stare at him. “When did Laird call?” We’re pretty balanced and all, but usually news like this, of our social media manager calling it quits before a major tour, would come in through me.
“This morning. You were out for the longest run in history. Again.” Noah raises his eyebrow. We’ve been together too long not to notice everyone’s tells. Ajax starts drinking. Slade and Blade used to fuck around with whatever drug they can get their hands on, and Noah just fucks around. Similarly, with whatever he can get his hands on, but when you’re Noah Whitlock there’s a huge fucking waitlist of women dying to suck him off, so his hands come up full every time.
Me, I can’t lose myself in any of that shit. It never really appealed to me anyway, and I recognized early on that my own mother used that shit to search for oblivion, probably from me and I don’t want to live my life the way she did hers. Nor do I want to do anything to speed up the shitshow mental health inheritance that’s probably coming my way.
So I run. Just like I did as a kid, except now I’m not running away from home.
I work out. As far as vices go, it’s not exactly unhealthy. I have to do everything I can to ensure my mind and body are as healthy as they can be for as long as possible. But something gives when I run, and if I can find the perfect rhythm, the perfect blankness within my mind, the lyrics rushing around my head fall into place and I can’t quit the high of a perfect song.
He knows something is up. Yesterday and today, I was pounding the pavement to try and erase the memory of Sterling’s soft skin under my hands. My cock twitches in my pants. Jesus. Noah would fucking cut it off if he knew.
Noah blinks first. “Anyway, we had a great idea and I wondered if you wanted to add anything when we call him back?”
