“So, which sauce was your favorite?” I asked as I parked the car, changing the subject, stuffing all my insecurities deep down where it was easier to ignore them.
“Maple syrup, obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes like he couldn’t understand why I’d even bothered to ask. “Sweet and surprisingly versatile. I could do anything with it!” It made my beaver preen, as if he were choosing us personally.
I climbed out of the car and helped him unload his goodies into the cabin. It was such a domestic task, I could easily visualize doing this back home, with Fable as my mate, pregnant with my kit. He’d said we could be as casual or as serious as I wanted; had that offer extended to forever?
As we walked into our little cabin, Fable let out a sigh that I couldn’t interpret. Was it blissful? Sad? Lonely? If we were mated, I could get a better read on his emotions and then provide whatever it was he needed. Instead, I was forced to read his body language… although it certainly wasn’t a hardship tostare at him. I kicked off my boots and watched him unpack all his sauces, lining the bottles up along the top of the dresser. I could watch him all day, doing anything at all.
His phone chimed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, tensing as he took in whatever was on the screen. Huffing, he shoved it back where it came from without replying. When Fable turned back with a tight smile, I got the hint—he didn’t want to talk about it. “Did you try this one?” he asked, cracking open a bottle. “I think it would make a really nice chicken marinade if I mixed it with some maple syrup. What do you think?”
“Let’s mix the two and try it,” I suggested, following his lead.
He poured a little of both into a lodge-provided cup and then used his finger to stir them together. He went to lick off his finger, but I caught his wrist before he could and brought it to my mouth. Laving my tongue along the length of his finger, I took it fully into my mouth and sucked it clean.
Fable’s breath shuddered, his gaze fixed on my mouth. “H-How is it?” he asked breathily.
I pulled his finger out slowly. “It’s delicious. Why don’t you try it?”
He nodded, but instead of going to the cup for his own taste, he lifted onto his toes and claimed my mouth instead, chasing the sauce on my tongue.
Taste test immediately forgotten, I pulled Fable into my arms, and together, we fell back onto the bed.
11
Fable
EvenasGuyloweredhimself over me, I felt my phone buzz again in my pocket. I wanted nothing more than to give Guy my undivided attention, but of course, my mother wouldn’t accept my silence. Her text had that half-judgy, half-disappointed tone of hers. It said that her neighbor, Mrs. Gibson, had seen me kissing a man at the convention center today. Assumptions were made, and therefore, I was being ordered to bring my boyfriend to Christmas dinner. How was I supposed to explain that Guy was not, in fact, my boyfriend? No matter how much the idea appealed to me.
She would no doubt continue to text me until I answered, so I was more than glad to kick off my pants and send them to the floor, along with my persistently buzzing phone.
“Do you need to answer that?” Guy asked as he nipped and licked his way along my jaw, before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.
“Nope, she can wait,” I panted, burying my fingers in his hair and holding him to me. Thankfully he didn’t stop, because I refused to let my mother kill the mood. We’d already been cut shorttwicenow—once by alcohol and once by the convention—and I refused to let anything else get in the way of sexy times.
Banishing any future drama from my mind, I let myself give in to the sensations. Guy was so warm, so attentive, and even though he’d propped himself up to keep his full weight off me, the pressure as he ground his hips against me helped me sink into the moment. Everything inside meachedfor him. Pulling his hair, I urged him back up to my mouth, where I kissed him hard and he kissed me harder.
He gripped the nape of my neck, anchoring me to him. “Fable,” he whispered against my lips, followed by a slew of French words I couldn’t grasp beyond how downright sexy they sounded in that gravelly voice of his. He could be reciting his grocery list and I would still be dripping slick for him.
Grabbing me around the waist, he rolled so that I was on top, knees bracketing his hips. His fingers were nimble as he worked my shirt off, one button at a time. When I was down to just my underwear, Guy pushed me up to sitting. He stared up at me, his pupils blown, taking in every detail of my body. It was the first time in my life I hadn’t felt like I was too pale, too freckled, too scrawny. “You’re so beautiful,” he praised, running a hand down my chest and stomach, feather light, and the way he watched me with such rapt adoration, I actually believed him. “How did I get so lucky?”
At long last, his hand reached the waistband of my underwear, and I held my breath, waiting for him to touch me where I needed it the most. He was taking too long, though, hand hovering in midair, and in the end, my lungs were screaming for oxygen. When Guy finally palmed my length through the fabric, I took a gasping breath, staring down my body as he thumbed the wet spot of precum soaking into my briefs.
I must’ve made some kind of sound, a whine or a whimper, because Guy’s lips slanted in a self-satisfied grin. He flipped us again so he could kneel on the bed above me and peel my underwear off, leaving me fully bare for him. My skin flushed under his attention, my lips tingling with whisker burn. Guy, however, was still fully dressed.
“Your turn,” I said, voice pitched like a plea. “I need to see you, touch you.Please.”
“Anything my omega asks, it is yours.” Oh, to be his. He stood only long enough to peel his clothes up and off, exposing his thickly built body and dark hair leading down. I propped up on my elbows to follow that path with my eyes.
My mouth watered as my gaze roamed down his body to his hard, girthy length standing proud between his legs. Fuck. My fingers itched with the need to reach for him. There was this sense of desperation filling me like I’d never experienced before. I felt like I might combust, a heady, foggy sensation taking over my brain.
Guy climbed back on the bed, easing me down to the mattress. I spread my legs and welcomed him in, and he used his strong thighs to spread me even wider. “I need you,” I demanded, but he just made a tsking sound.
“You’re not ready yet,” he scolded lightly, one hand creeping between us and up the inside of my thigh. “But you will be…” And then his fingers were there between my ass cheeks, searching out my hole.
I gasped as he inched one thick digit inside me, crooking it slightly to stroke at my sweet spot. I grappled with his shoulders, trying to coax him to move faster, but it was like trying to move a tank. And when I went to reach between us to grab his wrist and force his hand, he casually shifted his weight to pin me down so that I was at his mercy. He refused to be rushed, making it clear he was going to take his time to stretch me properly.
And I appreciated the care he showed me, I really did. Except… I could feel the beginning of an orgasm creeping up on me, and there was no way I was going to come on his fingers. “Please, Guy, I need you,” I said.
“You have me,” he replied, inserting another finger before bending to suck at my nipple, scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub.
