Indie

THE WARMTH OF THE TRUCK seeps into my skin and suddenly, I don’t want him to leave. A deep ache spreads in my chest, a vivid nostalgia that reminds me of my childhood. I was never very good at letting go. Always walking on a tightrope, balancing between living in the moment and never wanting it to end.

I turn to face Jem. “Stay over?”

In the dim streetlight, his expression is impassive. “You’re making it very hard for me to be a gentleman right now, Indie.”

“Scar’s not at home.” I shrug, and then turn to offer him a pointed look. “And someone fixed my heating.”

Light enters his eyes. “Hope he did a good job.”

I suppress a smile, playing along. “He did.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Not yet,” I echo lightly.

Jem clicks his tongue. “He’s an idiot.”

I lift a brow. “Why?”

“For waiting so long.”

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.

“If the spot is still open,” he asks, gingerly, his silver gaze on me, “can I take it?”

A warm spiral cuts through my chest, and my throat goes dry, but I somehow manage to conjure up the words. “I would like that. A lot.”

The corner of his mouth lifts.

“In that case,” he says, “I’ll stay over. As your boyfriend.”

My cheeks literally hurt from how hard I have to suck them in to keep myself from grinning. It starts to snow lightly, and Jem gets out, rounding the front of the truck to open my door and help me out.

He doesn’t let go of my hand as I walk up the stoop, or the whole time we’re in the elevator. When I move to unlock the apartment door, he comes up behind me, settling his hands on the side of my hips as he toys with the hem of my sweater. My breaths come out shallow.

The rough pads of his thumbs make contact with the skin on my waist, tracing circles lightly. Blood rushes to the surface of my skin, and I lose all coherent thoughts, my hands shaking as I fumble with the keys.

Finally, and by some miracle, I get the door open.

He’s on me in an instant.

A surprised gasp escapes me, and he swallows it with his mouth as I kick the door closed behind me. Fervor bursts inside me like a flame, and I open my mouth. Jem makes a sound at the back of his throat. His tongue slips into my mouth, claiming and desperate, soft and wet.

Even after all this time, his height jars me. When we stand, I have to go on my tiptoes to kiss him. He tastes like salted caramel. I pull him deeper into me, melting against his chest.

I can feel the distinct prod of his bulge of his length against my thigh. He moans in my mouth, the sound low and guttural, sucking on my tongue. A heavy weight pulses between my legs.

Jem backs me up to the kitchen counter. “I could fuck you right here.”

His voice is thick. Heavy. My heart leaps in my chest, and in a moment of weakness, I almost let him do just that. But then I remember that I have a roommate, and I manage to mumble, “My room.”

We’re still touching each other as we tumble into my room. It’s pitch black, so I switch my night lamp on so we can see where we’re going. What we’re doing. My lips are buzzing, and in the faint glow of the night light, his lips look plump and swollen, his eyes a liquid silver.

When I turn to face him, he tugs on the bottom of my sweater.

“Arms up,” he orders.

I listen, lifting my arms, and when he pulls my sweater over my head, the silver in his eyes disappears as his pupils dilate. His gaze is heated as it washes over me, finally landing on my face. My bra isn’t anything special. It’s just barely cute — white cotton with a thin lace pattern bordering the top. But the way Jem looks at me makes me question if I’m underestimating it.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he hums, gripping my chin with one hand and squeezing my cheeks as he leans down to plant a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

I bite back a smile.

“Your turn,” I say, reaching out to push his jacket off his arms. My hands slide under his shirt, melting into his muscled chest. Jem’s jaw is clenched, his grey eyes fixed on the movement. I tug at the shirt, wanting it off. He figures it out pretty quick, peeling his shirt over his head with a smug grin.

There’s so much ink on his body. I could spend a lifetime tracing his tattoos. Touching him, learning him. He backs me into the back, and I take a seat on the edge of it, untying the laces on my Docs.

Jem edges closer. “Let me help.”

I lift my leg so he can tug it off. The other is stuck, apparently, it takes him a while to do it without taking my entire foot off. Finally, both boots are off, discarded somewhere on the floor along with my socks.

He exhales. “Fuck’s sake.”

A frenzied laugh escapes me, but it’s cut off short as his hands settles on his sweatpants. I lean up on my elbows to watch him undress. He kicks off his sweatpants, shoes, socks…leaving him in just his black boxer briefs. The outline of his erection is thick against his sculpted thigh, and there’s ink covering his legs, too.

“I think you might be prettier than me,” I murmur.

Jem huffs a laugh. “I’m going to fuck you longer for that.”

He only gives me a little time to appreciate the view before he descends on me. My heart beats wildly in my chest, blood rushing in my ears. His hands travel to the button of my jeans, popping it open and dragging down the zipper. Then he tugs them down my thighs.

Swallowing, I lean further back, my chest lifting and falling as I lift my hips to help him do it, and the bite of his blunt fingernails as they graze down my thighs is delicious. He finally coaxes the material over my ankles and off me, darting it to the floor.

The cool air hits the bare skin of my legs, raising goose bumps. Almost like he senses it, Jem grabs onto my ankles, his fingers pressing into my calves as he spreads my legs wide and settles his between them. The warmth from his body speeds through my thighs, and the pulse becomes almost unbearable.

Jem’s hands are everywhere and yet exactly where I want them to be — like he’s burned my soft spots into his memory. His palms graze up my thighs and curve around my sides. His big, warm hands find the straps of my bra, and he traces the skin above my ribs with his fingers, snaking to my back. He undoes the clasp in one quick motion, and when I pull my bra off, his eyes darken — hot with need.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs.

A mind-altering fever consumes my mind as he trails both his hands up my hands, coming up to cup my breasts, the skin of his palms rough against my softer skin. His hand massages my other breast, kneading and ploughing, dragging the blunt edge of his nails across my nipples. I arch further into his touch. And when he leans forward and swirls his hot tongue around my nipple, a soft moan bubbles up my throat.

He sends one palm graze down between my legs before cupping me though my underwear. Blood rushes to my cheeks as he must realize how soaked the material is already.

He works both of my nipples with his mouth until they’re taut with arousal, then lowers his entire body, his fingers pressing into my thighs as he lowers his head between my legs.

“Skip it,” I mutter carelessly.

 “Why?”

“I’m already so—”

Jem grins up at me from below. “Wet?”

With little warning, he pulls my underwear off my legs, leaving me bare under him. Jem hitches a breath, and his jaw is tight as his eyes glaze over. He thumbs my clit and groans.

“Fine,” he says. “But then you owe me, Gallagher. I’ve been dying to eat you out again.”

I blink. My core throbs at his words; the way he mutters them so carelessly. He pushes a thick finger inside me, and then another, his thumb working on my clit the entire time. His gaze flares with lust, his Adam’s apple shifting as he swallows.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he says, his rough hands roaming my skin. “About you. Touching you, fucking you.”

My stomach leaps, and a warm spiral cuts through my veins.

“But nothing comes close to this,” he says, “You’re better than a dream.”

With a hand settled on my lower stomach, he reaches across me to ruffle in his pants and comes up with his wallet, pulling out a foil packet from it and ripping through it with his teeth.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says.

I shake my head. “Don’t.”

“Indie…”

“Be gentle another time,” I half snap, half plead.

His eyes spark. “Tap out if it hurts, okay?”

A breathless laugh escapes me. “You want me to tap out—”

Jem hooks my leg over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to my ankle. “Only if it hurts.”

He lines his length along my center, grinding it against me. The friction almost drives me over the edge, and I grip the sheets at my sides, begging for more. But he keeps grinding against me.

Suddenly, he pushes into me. A whimper gets stuck in my throat. I can’t breathe. Can’t think straight. “Jem — not all at once.”

I clamp down around him and he curses, pulling out so that only the tip of him is inside me. “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry.”

He leans down to pull my lips into a soft kiss, then pulls away as his warm, rough hand settles on my lower stomach. His thumb finds my clit, circling it. “I’ll go slow.”

He pushes into me again, slower this time, and I almost moan from the feeling of being filled up. I’m being filled by him. He’s stretching me out, and the feeling is addictive.

I’m not used to this — to him. To his body. Every feeling is foreign and new, and it sends my mind into an overdrive. He’s not even halfway inside me yet. I know he’s trying to take it slow, but it’s torturous.

“It won’t fit,” I mumble.

He grunts with a sharper thrust. “It’ll fit.”

I’m about to argue, but the words are stuck at the top of my throat. His thumb finds my clit again, and he circles the nub so that a hot white pulse of pleasure builds in my core, growing stronger each second.

“Take it slow,” he says, “but take it all.”

A few strokes later, he’s finally all the way inside me. I move my hips to adjust to him, and he flicks my clit in approval. “Good girl.”

I can feel a building pressure between my legs up again inside, but his hand pulls away from me. I groan in protest. “Jem.”

“Patience, baby.”

He runs his rough hands up my legs, slowly, reverently, and his touch is like a brand of fire. Then he settles his hands on the sides of my hips as he stares down at me — at him inside me — and his pupils dilate so much they’re almost black.

His hands grip the sides of my hips so hard I know there’ll be bruises in the morning. I don’t care. My mind is in a haze, and I can only focus on him, on the growing ball of pleasure building at my core. And then he starts thrusting. Hard. Fucking me in earnest while his fingers burn into my hips.

Every curve of his spine, thrust of his hips meets mine, and the lewd sound of it fills the room. His dark lashes spill into his cheeks as he closes his eyes and leans his head back with a throaty groan.

He leans over me and his warm, sweet breath fans my face as he stares down at me, his grey eyes intense. Then he leans forward and presses me firmly against him while he’s still moving inside me. I can feel every ridge of his inked body against mine. Hard. Delicious.

My hand veers to the scruff at the back of his neck, and his buzzcut grazes my fingers as I bring his face closer to mine. His hand tugs at my hair, angling my mouth so that he can plough his tongue in further.

I wrap my legs around his broad torso, pressing him closer to me. He draws away from my mouth to pepper kisses down my jaw and nip at the top of my breasts instead. “You feel so fucking good.”

A slither of pain and pleasure intertwines as it snakes down my spine. A thin layer of sweat slicks our bodies. I graze my nails down his back, and Jem flinches with the touch, sinking deeper inside me with each thrust. The way he moves his hips, arches his spine, in a perfect, fluid curve…

“Don’t stop,” I say.

“Greedy,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

And like he promised, he keeps up the steady pace of his thrusts. My breaths grow quicker, harsher, more labored, and I know I’m close.

He knows it, too.

“Come for me, baby,” he says.

My nerves are on end, blood heating under my skin. I can’t help but lean further back, arch my spine, and give him what he wants.

A wave of bliss rushes under my skin. I come around him, and the pleasure shoots to every inch of my body. There’s a dull ringing in my ears and my heartbeat thuds in my chest as I go limp for a few seconds.

But Jem still hasn’t come yet, so I meet his thrusts with my hips. His lips meet my shoulder, and I feel his jaw clench. His muscles strain, and I can tell he’s close. When I clamp down my walls around him, he lets out a groan as he comes with a final, deep thrust inside me.

I place a kiss to his forehead as his weight comes down on me.

“Was it good?” he asks.

My lips lift, as my chest rises and falls steadily. “How many condoms do you have?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he mutters, breathing hard while still buried inside me, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Blood rushes to my cheeks as I tamper down my enthusiasm. A few seconds later, he doesn’t bother hiding his grin. “Two.”

And I don’t get another word in before he flips me over.