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“Well, you were only five. And a pristine, freshly poured expanse of wet concrete is pretty impossible to resist.”
He looked over at her. He’d needed this. He couldn’t say why, but he had, and the fact that she’d known made him want to get her back to that barn of hers, lay her across the big bed, and give her everything she needed. “When I was five. Nowadays there’s something else I find impossible to resist.”
She took his hand and wove her fingers through his. “Come on. Show me the rest of the house you grew up in.”
He got to his feet and tugged her up. “We’re still on the tour?”
“I booked the grand tour, Maguire. I want my money’s worth.”
“All right. Follow me.” He led them inside and down the hall, pausing by the house’s only full bath. “Bathroom,” he said, though the thing spoke for itself.
“Wow. Four people, one bathroom. That must have been challenging at times.”
“My parents had a half bath in their bedroom. Derek and I shared this one. Kind of the way two Rottweilers share a kennel, but we managed.”
“Savannah and I shared a bathroom, too. I don’t imagine yours looked like an Ulta pop-up shop.”
“Not so much. For a long time, the tub was basically an arsenal full of water guns and other weaponry designed to lure us into the bath. Once Derek hit puberty, the clutter migrated over there.” He pointed to the small counter surrounding the sink. “Hair product, zit gel, and some righteously foul cologne Derek used that smelled like vanilla wafers laced with Pine-Sol.”
Sinclair grimaced. “Strangely, I know exactly which one you’re talking about.”
“The first time Derek used it, Dad yelled, ‘What the fuck is that smell?’ This was all the way from the living room, mind you. Derek called back, ‘That’s the smell of me about to get lucky as fuck.’ The old man said, ‘You’ll be lucky somebody doesn’t hose you down with a power sprayer.’” A reluctant laugh bubbled up from his chest. “One of the few times I agreed with him.”
Memories swirling, he continued down the hall. The door to his parents’ bedroom hung open on the right, and to the left, his and Derek’s room. He gestured Sinclair inside and then stepped in behind her. Even empty, the cramped chamber was smaller than he remembered. Two twin beds, two nightstands, and an upright dresser had pretty much spoken for all the space. Curious, he wandered to the closet and ran his hand along the doorframe. A layer of paint had been applied sometime during the last ten years, but his fingertips felt out the ladder of short, thin indentations running up the frame. Sinclair traced one with her fingernail. “What’s this?”
“Derek and I measured ourselves every six months or so, and much to our mom’s dismay, marked our progress with a Swiss Army Knife our grandfather had given us.”
“How do you know which mark goes with which of you?”
“For most of this, Derek’s the higher mark.” He swept his hand up and stopped at shoulder level. “About here, I caught up, and then the marks switch.”
“That happened with me and Savannah, too. She’s still a little bent about not getting her fair share of the height genes.”
“Derek was pissed at first, but then he took to insisting he didn’t care because he had the bigger dick.”
Sinclair raised one dark eyebrow. “I can’t speak with certainty, but I find that hard to believe.”
He slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. “I doubt a strict measurement would bear his claim out, but Derek definitely had the bigger mouth.”
“That, I believe.” She turned into him, resting her hands under shirt, along his abs. The feel of her palms on his skin was all it took to have his dick straining painfully against the rivets of his button fly. Her smile turned challenging. “Did you ever sneak a girl in here?”
“Once or twice.”
Her fingers hooked into the waist of his jeans, and she dropped to her knees. His head went light as the rest of the blood in his body flowed directly to his cock, causing it to swell to new dimensions.
“So, I wouldn’t be the first one to give you a blowjob here?”
“No, baby girl, ’fraid not.”
She undid the first button on his fly, then the next, and looked up at him again. “Who wins that distinction?”
His mind spun for a second, working hard to track the conversation, and then skated back almost fifteen years, to pretty, energetic, and, at the time, far more worldly Shannon Grieger. Kyle’s sister. He hadn’t thought of her in well over a decade. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
The earned him an eye roll, but she yanked open the remaining buttons. “I guess I’ll have to settle for being the last.”
“Holy…shit. And the best,” he managed. He hadn’t bothered with underwear, and she didn’t bother with any civilized decencies, either. She wrestled him out and deep-throated him like a pro. Like she’d spent the last six days hungering for him as much as he’d starved for her. Her warmth engulfed him. She cradled him there for a long, extraordinary moment, letting him pulse in the sweet, soft haven of her mouth, and then, keeping her lips sealed tight, she flicked her tongue along his shaft, moving steadily up, up, up to his tip. When she reached it, she cupped his balls and laved the blunt head, lulling him into a false sense of complacency before spearing the tip of her tongue into the agonizingly sensitive opening.
His body went up in flames. His breath exploded from his chest in a harsh grunt that echoed in the cave of a room. She slowly worked her way down, tugging gently, and then not too gently, on his balls as she went. His legs threatened to buckle. Another second of this and he was going to come on his knees in his childhood bedroom, without even understanding what had compelled her to bring him here. No good. He wanted inside her—inside her body and her mind—and getting there required conversation. He threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged her head back until his cock slid out of her mouth and bobbed heavily in the cool air. Little white lights danced around the fringes of his vision, but he blinked them away and brought her beautiful face into focus.
