Page 12 of August's Thief
He snorted, thrusting up at me, his legs impossibly wide. “Fuck, yeah. It’s not going to lick itself, Gussie.”
God knew whether I was doing it right, but from the filthy sounds Dawson made, his enjoyment was on par with crunching humbugs. As the tight bud opened up, I became bolder still, steadying his hips, burying my tongue deeper until he pushed me away. “Gonna have to stop, Gus, too good. Come up here.”
He dragged himself up the bed, bringing me with him. The need to be inside him grew, and I fumbled for some lube. “Can… can we?” I panted as I coated myself and dribbled some more over his wet hole.
“Please.”
“Like this? Facing?”
“Yeah, I want to see your beautiful face, Gus.”
My boy was limber; one leg returned to my shoulder, and the other squeezed my waist. Dawson dragged his mouth across mine again, then gasped, sharp and sweet, as my tip breached his entrance.
A flash of pleasure filled his eyes. His slack lips parted as I inched forward into the clinging, vice-like heat of him. Then stuttered, marooned somewhere between giggling and sobbing and trying not to come. As those beautiful eyes stared up at me, I swore I caught a glimpse of a doorway through them to the rest of my life.
As if I was born to be there, I slipped inside him a little further. Like we were perfectly matched.
“Can I…?” I shifted my hips, earning a hungry sound from Dawson.
“I reckon.”
My gentle thrusts turned to bigger ones. We found a rhythm. This was no choreographed routine. Neither of us had muchexperience in how to make it good for the other. I wanted to come straight away; I wanted to make it last. I wanted Dawson to scream my name; I wanted to render him silent. I wanted us to cover every inch of this stupid fucking four poster and to take him fifty different ways on it. And I also wanted to stay like this, kissing and whispering and making quiet, passionate, tender love.
We chose the latter.
Dawson came first, with his hand on his dick and his lips on mine and those brilliant eyes shuttered closed. I didn’t think I could ever love him more than I did in that moment. As his channel spasmed around me, my own release followed, filling him up in a rush. Unexpected hot tears spilled from my eyes, landing on his nose and his cheeks.
“Are you always going to cry when you come inside me, Gussie?” Laughing, he kissed them away, his tongue licking across my scarred cheek. The thrill of that would never grow old. “Because we’re going to need a whole lorry load of boxes of tissues if you do. Maybe even a few more tonight.”
Softening but still inside him, I thrust feebly, making him wince. “Or maybe leave it a few hours.”
“Yeah, I’d like that, Gussie. Perhaps me and Mikey could be persuaded to stay another night.”
I grinned. “And the night after that?”
He pretended like he was contemplating it. “Yeah, perhaps. I mean, I’ll have to check with Mikey because, you know, he might prefer a view of a boarded-up petrol station from the sitting-room window instead of, I dunno, fifty acres of woodland and a million cows. And perhaps he really likes being serenaded by Yoz’s boombox thingy outside his bedroom at four a.m.; he might prefer that to birdsong and the rustle of falling leaves. And would Eileen still be able to visit him? No one sings Humpty Dumpty quite as well as Eileen.”
My heart clenched. Oh bloody hell, he was really going to do this. “I’ll send a car for her every day if you’d like.”
“Christ, he don’t like her that much. Once a week will be more than enough.” He threw me a naughty look and gave a wriggle. “I’d like this more than once a week though, Gussie.”
“We could go out on a date when she comes to visit,” I said, carefully gauging his expression. “Just the two of us. Not every time, of course.”
I knew Mikey would always come first, but Dawson was more than only a carer, like I was more than a saviour. Despite our comfort in both of those roles, we were partners, too, in bed and out of it. And I never wanted to lose sight of that. “I’d like to take you places and show you off.”
He smiled at me with his whole face, a little sleepily. “Like the Tesco café?”
“If that’s where you want to go. Although I was thinking maybe a little more upmarket.”
Chuckling softly, his lips found mine. “I’d like that, Gussie. Very much.”
We took a while to part. This was more than sex, more than making love even. It was a laying down of our combined future, and we were both a little shy, a little scared, a little daunted. And a few minutes later, as Dawson’s gentle snores lulled me to sleep, I was more than a little excited too.
CHAPTER 9
In the days that followed, the contours of Dawson’s lithe body and the texture of his satiny limbs became so imprinted on my mind that if I closed my eyes, I could taste the salt from his skin. So in tune, I didn’t need aPretty Woman-style shopping spree to purchase a smart suit for the upcoming court case; his measurements had become as familiar to me as my own. I settled on a light-grey wool, not too showy, with a plain violet shirt to compliment his eyes, paired with a classic Oxford spot tie I’d enjoy teasing from around his neck later. Oh, and a rather swish watch, not too dissimilar to mine. Then, because I was in the mood for presents and Mikey had stolen my heart too, I went a little crazy in Hamley’s cuddly toy department.
On the day of the case, my true match, Dawson allowed me to dress him. Him and Mikey were attending court with Eileen; she was downstairs giving Mikey his breakfast. “Are you sure you want Mikey there? Honestly, it might be a lot of waiting around for him.”
