Page 36 of Gatling
Pink, like the blush of Kelsie’s cheeks.
Pink, like those sweet, plump nipples I’d tasted in this same bed. That felt like a lifetime ago now.
Pink, like her lips, smiling, pouting, pursed with worry or disappointment. Those same lips that I had kissed, damning myself to an eternity of yearning for a woman I could never have.
Before I realized what I was thinking, I stripped my pants down to mid-thigh, exposing my cock. I hesitated for a split second, with Kelsie’s panties in my grip. Was I prepared to sink to a new level of deprivation?
Fuck it. I had no hope of salvation anyway.
Wrapping Kelsie’s panties around my cock, a deep groan rumbled in my chest. I stroked and pumped along my length, fucking up into my fist. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine Kelsie was here with me—her scent, her curves pressed against me, squeezing that perfect little pussy until my brain went blank.
I dragged the panties over the tip of my cock, imagining that innocent pink color to be her mouth, her tongue. Teasing at my slit. Tracing the fat, swollen veins.
“Damn it,” I muttered, panting, aching and frantic for release.
Bundling the panties onto my mattress, I braced an arm against the bed and rolled my hips, desperate for more friction. I prided myself on my aloof nature, keeping everyone at arm’s length. I thought I was immune from it all.
I watched the Blackjacks fall in love. I watched them fight with their wives and girlfriends and bunnies. I watched them go through hellish divorces and remarry again to the same woman ten years down the road.
And I foolishly thought nothing like that would ever happen to me.
Love was for other people.
But this…
This was a fever, burning through my body. Consuming me. Turning me rabid for Kelsie.
Forty-five years old, and here I was, humping my fucking mattress like a horny teenager. Wishing she was here. Wishing those little panties could make up for the fact that my woman, my sunshine wasn’t in my bed.
I growled into the pillow, screwing my eyes shut as I rolled my hips harder, faster. Kelsie’s panties were damp with my pre-cum now. My scent had overtaken hers.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hissed, as my balls tightened, and my orgasm slammed into me.
With one last thrust, I came, coating her panties. A vision flashed in my mind—Kelsie’s back arched with pleasure, lips parted, her plush thighs locked around my hips.
I didn’t want to open my eyes ever again. I didn’t want to lose that vision.
My phone rang, jarring in the silence. I dug it out of my pocket and kicked my pants off, stepping into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I answered the phone.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Noah demanded.
I opened my mouth then snapped it shut again. Two seconds ago, I’d been jerking off with his sister’s panties. But there was no way I would tell him that.
“Like what?” I prompted.
“Don’t play dumb. You’re too smart for that.”
“Well, Noah, you called me out of the blue, demanding answers to a question you haven’t asked yet. So I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Noah huffed.
“You and Kelsie. You were eye fucking each other on the dance floor tonight. What the hell is going on between you two?”
Shit.
Technically, Noah didn’t have solid proof of anything. And in my experience, remaining silent was a safe bet. People tended to fill the silence with their own thoughts if I waited long enough.And since I was a hunter, I could wait for hours, days, even weeks for the perfect shot.
Besides, no one could twist my words against me when I didn’t say anything in the first place.
