Page 19 of Collide

GAGE

The next day, the guys and I play out my new sound. Jared likes the feel of the song, and Petty goes with the flow.

“It’s different,” Jared admits. “Not screeching rock star but more alternative. I like it.”

The guys suggest a swim after we finish, and I agree, telling them I’ll meet them downstairs. It’s late in the day, and I want to check on Ivy. She naps almost daily. The sun wipes her out, she says, but I know it’s more than that.

As I peek in her room, she looks so peaceful lying on her bed. An angel with her blond hair sprawled around her head on the pillow. She’s on her side, a T-shirt covering her midsection and a sheet over her legs. I’m tempted to crawl in behind her, but instead, I step forward and brush back a lock of her hair.

“Gage,” she murmurs as if she knows I’m there. I stand, looking down, to find her fast asleep.

Is she dreaming of me?

I can’t help but notice how her legs shift under the sheet. I rub a hand down her arm, and she shivers. Her lips mutter my name again, and I smile. Giving in to temptation, I carefully lie down behind her, pressing a kiss to her covered shoulder. Ivy shifts, and her backside wiggles against the front of my shorts. My reaction is immediate although I tell myself to keep it together.

Don’t be a creeper.

“Ivy,” I whisper, softly warning her. She repeats the motion, searching for friction.

Does she know what she’s doing?

I hiss her name again, nuzzling my nose into her warm nape. She arches her back, adding pressure to my growing dick. She moans and nestles against me.

“Gorgeous,” I snap a little louder.

With a sleepy voice, she says, “It’s the pregnancy.” Her legs shift again, and she rubs against me with more intention. My eyes leap to her breasts. I’d noticed each day that her bathing suit hardly contained the swollen globes, skin peeking out each corner of her bikini top, and my mouth waters to take one.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Pregnancy hormones.”

I wait for more, but she doesn’t explain. What isn’t she telling me? Smoothing down her arm, I kiss her shoulder blade. She presses back again.

Is she doing this on purpose?

Interlocking our fingers, she squeezes mine tight. I move our collective hands to her belly, covering her bump, and her sheet-covered ass hits me square against my bulging dick. Leaning forward, I nip at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She bows, arching her back, so two fine globes rub against me, undeniably seeking friction.

“Ivy, do you need something?”

Our fingers slip apart, and she doesn’t answer as my hand caresses her belly. I boldly skim higher on her body, following the curve of her stomach, the dip to her waist, and stopping to cup the underside of her breast. It’s full. Plump. Ripe. My palm massages, and I’m greeted with a satisfied purr. Then I reach higher and pinch her nipple covered by her tee.

“So sensitive,” she whimpers, and I repeat the motion, tweaking the tight nub, and like how she curls her back and rubs her fine ass against my straining length. I kiss her neck again. Then the curve of her shoulder. My hand travels down her body, retracing my journey to her belly.

“Let me give you relief, gorgeous.”

My knee slides up between her thighs, and I tug the sheet away from her legs. She parts hers, hooking one leg over mine. I spread my knees, forcing hers to open and feel the cool caress of her ass on my thigh. My eager fingers skim the edge of a thong strap.

“Were you waiting for me? Anticipating this?” My heart jumps in my chest while my dick twitches with the possibility. I don’t want to disappoint her.

She doesn’t answer, and I consider something else—did I interrupt her?

“Were you touching yourself?” My voice catches, my dick weeping with the possibility.

“So horny,” she whispers, pushing her ass against me. Her fingers grip the edge of the mattress, and her chin lowers to her chest. “Touch me,” she pleads, and the whisper of a memory comes back to me.

I want to feel.

My fingers find wet folds, slick and sensitive to the first touch. She flinches, but the groan following tells me this is what she wants. I circle where she needs me most before flicking over the hood of her sex. Her satisfied groan grows as her head dips back. My finger slides her seam once, twice, before slipping inside. I immediately go deep, and another pleasing sound greets me. She presses back, and I push forward, letting her know what she’s done to me.