Wayward, page 22
I yelled his name the second time.
He pulled off, and I saw the wicked smile before he licked at the leaking precum, taking my shaft in his hand, stroking me from balls to head before taking me in again, the suction and rhythm so good. That fast, I knew I was going to come.
It had been so long. Even before my life ended in Chicago, it had been months between lovers. Already I had soured on the quick, dirty fucks in bathrooms and the backs of cars, the secret blowjobs behind buildings. I wanted a person, my person, and that, the need for more, for intimacy, connection…love…was the only thing that would work.
And now here was Gale, who had looked past the guy I’d been to the man I could be. He saw me like few others did besides my mother, brother, my cousins, and Sava. Five people in the world before him and Ada and the other people in town now, my community who wanted me there. I would be trusted and loved, and I wanted all that. More than anything, I wanted Gale.
“No,” I cried out when he pulled off.
“Just do as you’re told,” he growled, rolling me over on the bed, smacking my ass, ordering me to my hands and knees.
I moved quickly as he darted to the nightstand and returned with lube.
“I’m ready, just fuck me.”
He scoffed. “Love the enthusiasm, but I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”
I had no idea what that meant, but a moment later his hands were on my ass cheeks, spreading me open before he licked over my hole.
My breath caught, and it was loud.
I heard his filthy chuckle before his tongue speared inside me, and he reached under my hip to stroke my now dripping cock.
“I want to be buried to my balls in your perfect ass,” he rumbled, and I heard the snap of the lube before two slick fingers pressed inside me. “Tell me I can.”
“Yes. Please. Now,” I pleaded with him.
I always thought it would hurt, and it stung for a moment as he stretched me, but his mouth was there, and his tongue, and his fingers, three now, pushing in deep and then easing back, making circles, spreading apart, then spearing deep.
It felt incredible. He was going so slow, taking his time, and then his fingers were gone, only his tongue remaining while he licked and laved, finally sucking on my skin. I was holding my breath, wanting to ride the wave of shivering chills and sparks of electricity dancing over my skin, rolling through me from the inside out.
When his fingers returned, I gasped with the pressure of four, and then in moments of the in and out, back and forth, I was whimpering under him. No one but him would I have ever trusted to see me like that, frowning in desperate need, begging him for more.
“You’re pushing back on my fingers so hard,” he whispered, leaning over me, biting my shoulder, mouthing my nape before kissing and licking back down my spine.
“Gale,” I demanded, loudly this time, and then the head of his cock was there, at my entrance, so big, so wide, before he pushed into my body.
The stretch around his long, hard length made me shiver. The sensation was intense, sharp, not quite pain but close. The counterpoint was his hand on my flagging cock, the friction so perfect, the slide and the catch at the same time, working my flesh, pleasure overwhelming the ache as my muscles relaxed and he slid home, to my core, buried to the hilt.
He didn’t move, letting me get used to him, and then he eased back, only slightly, before thrusting hard.
His name came out of me then, loud and guttural.
“Oh, he likes that,” he whispered in my ear, snapping his hips, driving that much deeper before again withdrawing a fraction.
“I can…oh please, Gale, I fuckin’ can.”
“You can what?” he asked me, hand in my hair, tipping my head so my back bowed and my ass lifted. His hand on my hip was holding me tight and hard, making sure I couldn’t move. I was totally under his power, and he was as turned on as I was.
“I can take it, everything you can give. Just have me.”
He took me at my word.
Starting slow, he shoved inside me, once and then again, gathering speed until he was pounding my ass, driving deeper and faster, riding me hard, each thrust better than the last. When he let go of my hair, I went facedown onto the bed, ass still in the air as he pistoned inside me.
His yell was a surprise, and when he pulled out, it almost hurt with how tight my muscles were clenching around him. I felt empty until he rolled me to my back, shoved a pillow under my hips, and lifted my legs up over his shoulders. When he slid back inside me, I arched up off the bed.
“I knew it would be like this, knew you would feel like home, like you’re made for me,” he murmured as I slipped my hands under the headboard to brace myself for another pounding.
Gripping the top of the headboard, he drove deep, setting a fierce rhythm, rutting inside me, sweat dripping off him as he took his pleasure, an endless loop of thrust and retreat.
I had no idea I could come only with him being inside me, but looking at him, watching the muscles in his arms and shoulders cord, seeing his head fall back, his lips part as he panted, his wet hair stick to his forehead, I was lost. Giving and receiving pleasure at the same time was something I’d never experienced before. I was utterly gone.
I felt the quickening of my orgasm swimming up my spine, felt my balls tighten, my muscles squeezing all around him like a vise, and then a sound I’d never made in my life tore out of my chest and I came, spurting over his abdomen.
“Oh fuck yes,” he snarled, sounding almost angry as he froze above me, and wet warmth filled my channel.
No one had ever been inside me. I’d never had cum leaking out of my ass, and certainly there had never been a man collapsing on top of me, burying his face in my neck, his stubble rubbing over mine. In seconds, his mouth was open on the side of my neck as he kissed and sucked, leaving a mark there before he lifted just enough to look down at my face.
“Oh, Maks, I’m not gonna say anything stupid because sex makes you stupid, and great sex makes you an idiot, but please, please, you can’t ever leave me. We fit perfectly, like I knew we would.” He swallowed hard. “Say yes, that you’re gonna be mine. Say it now.”
“Lot of demands so soon after sex when you’re still buried in my ass.”
“Yeah, no, not sorry. I’m staying right here. Not moving. You feel so good.”
There was so much hope and happiness and possessiveness in his gaze, I had to look away, otherwise I would say something ridiculous.
“We’re gonna hyphenate your name to Gorev-Malloy. Nobody’s gonna think twice about you being anybody else with a name like that.”
“Why am I hyphenating?” I asked, always without fail getting pulled into nonsensical conversations with him where we talked about impossible plans and future scenarios that I loved.
“You’re gonna be mine. Why’re you playing at this?”
“Yours, you say?”
“Yes,” he groused, easing slowly, tenderly from my body and then instantly rolling me onto my side so he could spoon me. “All mine.”
“These sheets will never recover,” I assured him. “And your cum is leaking out of me.”
“I know,” he said, sliding his hand down my hip and then over my ass, slipping his middle finger inside me.
“Oh God,” I moaned, squirming from being overly sensitized and with how good it felt.
“You’re incredible,” he said, and moved fast, sliding down my side until his mouth was pressing between my ass cheeks, his tongue lapping over my used hole. “You taste amazing.”
“That’s—oh,” I gasped. “It’s you you’re tasting,” I reminded him.
“Oh, well, my cum is good out of your ass.”
I sighed deeply. “No one who ever looks at you would think you’re like this in bed.”
“Of course not,” he said, cackling as he moved back up my body until his dick caught on my ass, and then he pressed back inside, hardening with every passing second. “Only you know because you’re the only one in bed with me.”
“I can’t go again. I don’t have your—”
“Oh no?” His breath on my ear, the gravelly, rough sound of his voice, rolled right through me. When he stroked my cock, I jolted against him, and my cock thickened in his hand. “I think you’ve never been in bed with the right man,” he said, pressing his cum to my shoulder along with his kisses. “Because you want me bad.”
The second time there were only drops that leaked from the end of my cock, and he came inside me again and made a mess of both of us. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“I’ve never been in bed with anyone but you without a condom,” he confessed after a few moments of silence. “Even Dean. It just never felt right.”
“But it felt right with me?”
“It never even crossed my mind with you. There could be nothing between us.”
“Well, I’ve never been in bed with anyone, ever,” I told him. “That being said, I’ve never fucked without a condom. I’m not stupid.”
“I know that,” he said, grinning at me. “You’re one of the smartest people I know, so yeah, we’re good.”
“Of course we are,” I agreed, letting him roll me sideways into his arms so he could do as he wanted and tuck me tight to his heart.
“And I really like the sound of Gorev-Malloy. I mean, you sound so international.”
I rolled my eyes as he raked his fingers through my hair.
We both heard it then, the pitiful howl from the other side of the door.
“No,” he said.
“Misha Gorev-Malloy,” I whispered, kissing under his jaw.
“Little shit,” he muttered as I sat up. I pulled the covers up so the mess we made was covered, and he rolled out of bed, crossed the room, and opened the door a crack.
Misha darted in, ran around the bed, realized there was no way up, and then whined until Gale picked him up and put him on the end. He tumbled over to me, received pets and kisses, and then once Gale returned to bed and I snuggled into his shoulder, Misha curled up into a ball at my nape.
“You can’t take back Misha Gorev-Malloy,” he made clear, his hand in my hair before he kissed my forehead. “That’s a done deal.”
“Yes, baby,” I agreed, hugging him tight.
“Oh, I really do like the baby,” he sighed.
He bought Misha a ramp. The following night, after we said our good-nights to Ada after dinner and returned to his house, now mine as well, there was a ramp on my side of the bed so Misha could get up and down whenever he wanted.
“You got that for him?”
“Of course I got that for him,” he grumbled. “I refuse to have him ruin my postcoital cuddle with you with his whining.”
“Well, you’re still going to have to get up and open the door.”
“Unless I teach him to stay off the bed during sexy times.”
I groaned loudly.
“What else am I supposed to call it?”
I had no idea.
That Saturday, Viola Berry came to see me at the farmer’s market where Gale and I went to watch Ada sell her pottery that we had set up for her. Viola thanked me lavishly, and we had a nice visit with her daughter, Harper, and the dogs. I’d been so busy; I hadn’t seen her since the first day at the vet’s office. Apparently, Bruce was still locked up since he couldn’t make bail—his family had washed their hands of him—so he hadn’t been able to bother his soon-to-be ex-wife and his daughter. His cousins, Viola told me, had come by to apologize for the misunderstanding. Bruce hadn’t been honest with anyone. They had spent a week in jail each and would be serving some serious community service time. I was glad to hear it. Gale reiterated to Viola that if she had any problems, he should be her first call.
“Or Maks,” Harper chimed in, beaming up at me. “He saved us and our doggies, so he’ll protect us.”
Gale shot me a look.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re always the hero.”
I nodded. “That’s how I roll.”
“Oh,” Ada said, shaking her head and scrunching up her nose. “Don’t ever say that again. That’s just so not you.”
Gale thought that was hysterical.
Viola explained that she and Harper had moved into their new house. It was small, but safe and wonderful, close to the elementary school.
Hearing that, Ada insisted that Viola take eight place settings of dinner, salad, and dessert plates, along with bowls and mugs. “You must be able to entertain in your new home.”
Viola cried, and Harper hugged Ada, then sat down and talked to Misha.
It was a very good visit.
The Snyders were next and Lauren introduced me to first her Chihuahua/Yorkshire terrier mix, Bedelia—I glanced at Mrs. Snyder and she shrugged like she didn’t know why the name either—and then to Thor.
“You know, like the Avengers.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
Thor was impressive. He was a Belgian Malinois and the way he was watching that little girl, I couldn’t imagine anyone she didn’t like was getting anywhere near her. He was also enjoying all her pets and hugs and the pretzels they were both eating.
I got a hug from Mrs. Snyder, a handshake from Mr. Snyder, and we set a date for the following Saturday for Lauren to come see the sheep.
“Can I bring my dogs?”
“As long as you promise not to let Bedelia chase the cats or the sheep.”
“You’re not worried about Thor?”
“No,” I said quickly, thinking that Mr. Kramer’s training had included Thor not being the type to chase anything but bad guys. “Just Bedelia.”
Lauren crossed her heart that her baby would be good.
Dr. Coleman came by, with his husband, Troy, and introduced me. He was sorry he hadn’t called.
“I would have,” he said, glancing at Gale, “but I was informed that you were quite busy being Ada’s caretaker.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, as Gale took gentle hold of the back of my neck. “But I would love the four of us to get dinner sometime.”
“I would love that,” Troy said, beaming at me.
Gale only grunted.
Ada did a thriving business, selling every last piece of pottery, much to her surprise and delight. Her banker, Mr. Raleigh—Allen—was thrilled for her, even more so when she hugged him. Clearly, the man was a bit smitten. I invited him for dinner, and he quickly accepted. Ada, Gale, and I had dinner together every night at our house, and one more was always welcome.
I had so many people coming and going from the property that I had to buy one of those stupid organizers with all the tabs. Keeping it all straight on my phone, where I had to open the calendar to see everything, didn’t work for me. Just like I kept my records that I turned over to the Feds, journals worked best for me, but to be on the safe side, I hired a CPA from a big firm in Portland and a lawyer from a small outfit in Seaside.
A week later, when Gale got home from work, he was stunned to see that the jungle that used to be Ada’s front yard had been taken down to dirt, and new sod and plants were being put in. The fact that the porch needed to be rebuilt was bad news, but the wrought-iron railings had held up. I was pleased that at least some pieces of the original house were intact. It was part of Ada’s history with her home and I wanted that for her. Libby had lived there after all, and so to see the restoration process had to be part of the healing. I was guessing that had Libby been around, Ada would have been so much more vigilant about the upkeep of their home.
So many positive changes, it was hard to keep track of them all.
Genie came a month later, in July, invited by her aunt to move into the second bedroom in the bungalow until the house was finished. Then, of course, she’d have her own suite.
“I’m very excited about having so many rooms,” Genie told me.
She immediately took over the care of the barn cats and accepted the two alpacas Peter Kay gifted to Ada. He said that when he was watching the girls for the couple of days he had them, that those two particular alpacas enjoyed being with the sheep. So Betty and Denise joined the others in grazing on the grass in the now fenced paddock. It was nice to see things coming together.
Genie became the first employee of Libby’s House, which was the official name of the sanctuary, and she hired a designer to begin building the website. She got to sit in when Dillon Harrison, an architect and builder out of Cheyenne, Wyoming, got on Skype with us and showed us his plans for the house. It was fun to watch the house transform in the video he narrated. He then suggested we contact Chun & Patel out of Butte, Montana, to do all the interior design of the house. They had just appeared in Architectural Digest and had done a fabulous job updating a Victorian in San Francisco and a ranch in Wyoming. I called them the following day, thinking there was no way they would be interested in coming to a small town on the Oregon coast. They arrived two days later, both women thrilled to be meeting the heiress Ada Farley, and excited to hear all her stories about Studio 54.
In September, the foundation of the house was finally cleared by the building inspector. I was about to call the interior designers as I was crossing from Ada’s home to mine and Gale’s, when I noticed him standing by the front gate.
“Hey,” I called over to him.
It had rained that morning, and the ground was still wet and the air held the first hint of fall. I smiled at him, but as I got closer, I noticed he looked strange. His now blond mane—he grew it out for fall and winter—was whipping around in the breeze and kept falling into his beautiful eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
He straightened up, staring at me. “I just watched a report on the national news about Grigory Lenkov, a former head of one of the Russian crime families in Chicago, who was brought down when his own son turned informant.”
I nodded.
“That’s you.”
“That’s me. Don’t tell Alvarez I told you.”
“Jesus, Maks,” he moaned. “Everything they said you went through… Your father’s a fuckin’ sadist!”
“He is. Yes,” I agreed.
