Page 10 of Gage

His attention shifted from the mug to my face. “What about it?”

“You stopped.”

“Had reasons. Still have some.” His palm rested on the scratched table, well out of reach of mine.

I nodded, then took my mug to the bar and headed down the corridor back to my room. I was suddenly aware of his boots following at an unhurried pace, and when I reached my room, I turned with one hand on the open door to face him.

“I'm not asking whether you trust me with club business,” I said. “I'm asking if you plan to stop again.”

“Only if you tell me to.”

I pulled him into the room and kissed him.

Gage closed the door behind him but stayed where I'd left him, one hand on the handle. The kiss I'd started didn't stay careful. I felt the exact moment he stopped treating it like something he could still walk back from. His mouth opened under mine, and his other hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tightening enough to hold me exactly where I wanted to be.

I pushed the cut from his shoulders; he took it and hung it over the chair. Colors didn't belong on the floor, and I was beginning to understand that. When I reached for his shirt, he bent enough to let me drag it over his head, then caught my waist as I kissed him again.

His skin was warm and a pale scar cut across his shoulder. I put my mouth to it because it was there, and his breath went out against my hair, rough enough that I felt it in my hands.

His restraint lasted until I backed him into the edge of the bed. He sat hard on the mattress, and I stepped between his knees while his hands moved down my back again, the second pass slower and rougher than the first. The next kiss carried all the frustration from the night before. He bit my lower lip hard enough to sting, and I climbed onto his lap with my jeans still between us.

Gage gripped my ass and pulled me against the thick shape of his cock. I rolled my hips once, watching the tendons stand out along his forearms. Then I did it again, slower, and he made a sound I hadn't heard from him, low, almost angry with how much he wanted it.

“Still have reasons to stop?” I asked.

“Fewer.”

“Good.”

I unfastened his belt and jeans. He lifted his hips enough for me to work the denim down, and I wrapped my hand around him. He was hot and fully hard, the head already slick when I dragged my thumb over it. I stroked him the way I intended to take him, unhurried, learning the weight of him in my palm. His fingers dug into the backs of my thighs. He let me set the pace until his forehead dropped against my shoulder.

I released him only to pull off my shirt. My bra followed. Gage bent to my breast before I'd finished with the clasp, sucking one nipple into his mouth with a wet heat that pulled straight down through me. The scrape of his teeth made me grab his shoulder. He did it again, slower, then switched to the other breast and put his rough palm over the skin he'd left wet.

I shoved my jeans and underwear down as far as the position allowed. He helped without taking his mouth off me, and I had to stand, unsteady, to kick the rest aside. His gaze traveled over me once, slow and unapologetic, and the heat of it settled between my legs before he even touched me again.

His cock jumped under my palm. His hands tightened on my thighs hard enough to promise bruises and I straddled him again, guided the head of him to my entrance, and sank down. The first stretch slowed me. I was wet enough that it didn't hurt, but he was thick, and my body wanted a moment I hadn't planned to give it. Gage held my hips without pulling. His thumbs moved once over my skin while I took another inch, then another, then the rest of him, until I was seated and shaking with it.

When I settled fully around him, we both dragged in a breath. I started with slow rolls that let me feel every inch pressing deep, each downward grind putting pressure exactly where I needed it. Gage's mouth moved across my collarbone and back to my breast while I rode him, his hands following my hips without stealing the rhythm. When I lifted, he watched the place where he disappeared into me; when I came down, his jaw went tight and the last of his patience began to fray.

“Stop holding back,” I said.

His answer was physical. Gage planted his feet and drove upward, hard enough to knock the bed into the wall. The sound was unmistakable. I didn't tell him to be quieter. I braced one hand beside his head and reached between my thighs with the other, working my clit as he fucked me from beneath. The position kept me open to every thrust. He watched my fingers and his control slipped another inch.

“That's it,” he said, voice wrecked.

The rhythm turned rougher as he pulled me down to meet him, his grip hard enough to leave marks along my hips. I was closer than I'd expected to get like this, pleasure going sharp and specific every time he bottomed out. My wrist came up over my mouth on instinct, and Gage's eyes fixed on me as he kept the same punishing rhythm.

“Don't stop.”

He thrust deep and came with my name against my breast, his cock pulsing inside me while his hands held me firmly in place. I kept circling my clit through it, still right on the edge, the feel of him coming undone under me almost enough. Almost wasn't what I had asked for.

His attention dropped to my hand. He lifted me carefully, handled the condom, and turned us across the narrow mattress with an efficiency that should have been unromantic and wasn't. Before I could tease him about it, he put his mouth between my thighs.

The first slow pass of his tongue dragged a sound out of me I didn't recognize. I was swollen, oversensitive and aching around the emptiness he'd left. Gage hooked one arm under my leg, opened me wider and licked my clit with the same concentration he brought to everything else. There was no rush in him now. He learned what made my hips lift, held me still when they did and repeated it until I was shaking and reaching for his hair. I tightened my fingers in it. “More.”

He slipped two fingers inside me without taking his mouth away, curling them until he found the angle that made my wrist seal over my lips. He only worked me harder, fingers keeping a steady rhythm while his mouth stayed exactly where I needed it.

My release built under his mouth until I couldn't keep quiet enough for the thin clubhouse walls. I came against his tongue with my wrist still pressed to my mouth, thighs shaking around his shoulders, and he stayed with me through the last sharp pulse and the one after it, licking me through the aftershocks until it tipped from pleasure into too much and I had to push at his head.