“It’s okay, babe,” she whispered. “I’m okay. And I want you.” To punctuate her point, she pulled off her t-shirt and offered him her breasts.
With one last questioning dive into her eyes, he took the invitation, catching both breasts in his wonderful hands, their long, rough fingers wrapping around them, then drawing inward to lightly pinch her nipples. Phoebe threw her arms around his neck, buried her hands in his hair and pulled him to her chest, begging for his mouth. With another deep, rasping grunt, he obliged, sucking on a nipple as his fingers excited the other, switching back and forth, letting his teeth clamp down gently each time he left one for the other. Each suck, each pinch, each nip was an arrow arcing through her body to strike her core.
Still in her underwear, Phoebe rocked on his thighs in time with his mouth and hands. His cock stood like a lead pipe between her legs, and she quickly discovered the move that would press him to her clit. Even through the silky gusset of her underwear, the intensity of that contact was like an electric charge, and she cried out and arched backward.
Growling like a wild animal, Duncan followed with her, somehow laying her on her back, her head at the end of the bed, and rose above her. She looked up and saw how deep and ferocious his own need was, and knew hers was no tamer.
“Be wild with me,” she gasped, lifting her hips to find contact with his again. “I want to be wild.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked, straining to form the words through his panting breath.
At first, she thought she didn’t know. She’d never been interested in the weirder corners of sex. No ropes or chains or safe words, nothing like that. But she needed something more now—what was it?
Then she got it. She didn’t need anything more. She simply wanted abandon. She trusted Duncan so completely, was so confident that he wouldn’t hurt her or push things too far, that she wanted to let go.
“I want us both to let go. Don’t be careful.”
He frowned, and his head tilted, asking if she was sure.
“I trust you, Duncan. I love you, and I know you love me. You won’t hurt me, I know it. Let’s be wild.”
His frown became a grin—and then he dived down her body, tore off her underwear, threw her legs over his shoulders, and began to feed. Wildly.
Already stimulated from her ride on his lap, now feeling his fervent enthusiasm as he sucked and nipped and licked, Phoebe soared with pleasure at once. She let go, let herself feel everything, let herself make any sound, let the world fall completely away until her climax caught her and she broke apart.
She was still dazed, still throbbing, her blood still fizzing, when Duncan disappeared and left a chill where he’d been. Before she could make sense of that, he was back and sliding into her. The cool slick of his entry told her he’d gotten a condom on. So a little bit careful, after all.
He filled her with a desperate groan, and for a moment, he lay on her, unmoving. All her most sensitive bits, still throbbing from one of the most intense climaxes of her life, were full of him, and she couldn’t keep still. Twisting and squirming, she moved around his steady cock, finding all the best places inside her.
“You are so fucking hot,” he rumbled against her shoulder after a groan tore through him.
“Fuck me, Dunc. Do it hard, please.”
He shifted onto his elbows and slammed into her. “Fuck!” he shouted.
“Yes!” she cried, flinging her legs around his hips.
Phoebe had never had sex like it before. They fucked each other hard and wild, flipping over, twisting, slamming, grunting. They pulled hair, bit skin. She strafed her nails down his back; he pinched her nipple so hard she arched into a bow. Almost too much, but not too much. Exactly what she wanted. This was a trust fall, and he caught her every time.
“Oh, oh, I’m close!” she finally gasped as her belly flooded with fire and her legs began to quiver.
“Me too, me too,” he panted. “Come with me, baby, come with me.”
He slammed into her as hard as ever, and he pinched her clit at the same time. Then he slammed again and pulled. She was wet, and his fingers slipped off, but it was that, the feeling of slipping through his clenched fingers, that set every cell in her body on fire at once.
Duncan roared directly into her ear as he came, too.
“Holy shit,” he gasped a few minutes later as he pulled out and flopped to his back beside her. They were both sweaty, and the linens were a damp snarl around them. “Holy fucking shit!”
All Phoebe could do was chuckle. She felt languid and sated, and so completely relaxed she might have been a couple inches taller.
“I’d like you to move in,” she said when her breath had settled enough for speech. “I want my home to be yours.” The thought had occurred to her before, but now it felt right to say it aloud. And she was not remotely worried about his answer—whichever it was, she knew everything would be okay.
“Yeah,” was his answer. “I’d like that, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Duncan’s mother unlocked the padlock, and Duncan pushed the door to the storage locker up.
“Jesus,” he muttered when he saw the contents of the locker.
His parents had three storage lockers that he knew of, at three different self-storage places. All three had excess junk from the house, but in the other two lockers, the house junk was just camouflage for the kind of shit they wouldn’t want LEO types finding. Guns and ammunition and safes packed solid with cash, for instance.
This locker, the size of a two-car garage, was the only one that held only house junk. It was the only locker Duncan hadn’t seen inside in, like, years. It was crammed with furniture, old rugs, half-closed cardboard boxes, and probably a hundred big plastic tubs.
Mom laughed. “Yeah, I know. Every time we buy something new, I can’t help but hold onto the old stuff. Maybe I’m just a hoarder, but I thought it would all be useful. I figured with three kids, we’d need to help you all get your first place furnished. But Kelsey mostly bought her own stuff for her apartment before she moved in with Dex, and you’re moving straight from home to Phoebe’s place, and I’m starting to think Hannah is going to be with us forever. We’ve got about three houses’ worth of shit nobody wants.”
Duncan had found a narrow pathway through the chaos and begun to push his way in. He clocked the slightly rusted red fender of his old pedal fire truck, from when he was about three, and grinned. “Wow, this is like a tour through my whole life.”
Mom had followed him in. “I think that’s why it’s so hard for me to let anything go. Everything’s a memory. See that rocking chair on top of the old chest freezer? I rocked you and Hannah to sleep every night in that.
“Not Kelsey?” Duncan asked, picking an old Bop-It game out of a cardboard box full of well-used toys. He ‘pulled it,’ but nothing happened. Of course the batteries were dead.
It took Mom a couple beats to answer, long enough that he looked over his shoulder at her. Her expression was pensive, and Duncan recalled the situation for his parents when his older sister was born.
“No,” she eventually answered. “I didn’t get a chance to really prepare for Kelsey, and I didn’t have anybody to throw a baby shower for me or anything like that. So I never had a rocking chair for her.”