Gavin

17

F orget? Not a chance in hell. Can I say no? Not a fucking chance. If all I get is one chance to be with Odette again, I'll use it to show her how good we could be together. How nobody could make her feel the way I will.

"Are you up for this?"

"You think I won't be able to keep up with you, hotshot?" Odette asks, a brow raising steadily over one amused eye.

"You've had a rough day, pumpkin," I tease. "I wouldn't want you to wear yourself out too quickly." I finger the towel, right at her cleavage, pulling her an inch closer.

"Pumpkin?"

"Hotshot?" I fire back, and she smiles wickedly. "Be sure, Ode. If we do this, you need to be one hundred percent." I won't have her hating me for this, too.

"You need to be one hundred percent, . You can't fuck me tonight and lay claim on me tomorrow. That's not what this is. It's not what I need."

I've been laying claim to her in one way or another since that first night in front of the shop she worked for at eighteen. I may have placed obstacle after obstacle, but I always saw her as my end game. When I've imagined myself old and retired somewhere with Tori coming over to visit with my grandkids, it's been Odette my fucked-up brain envisioned by my side. So, no, I don't agree with her terms entirely.

But fuck it. I drop my towel and stand there waiting for her to do the same.

"Birth control?"

"I'm covered," she says breathlessly, her eyes, once again, darting between mine. "Clean?"

"Absolutely."

"Then fuck me, ," she purrs and releases the twist holding up her towel. Finally, I get to take her in without shame or fear. She's thin, yet with curves from her full tits and ass. Her skin, flawless and unmarred, is the opposite of mine that's consistently finding new scars. Her nipples harden while I study every inch of her body, from her still wet hair that clings to her shoulders, to the toes she has painted a shade that matches that perfect mouth of hers.

I can't wait any longer.

Palming the back of her skull, I pull her mouth to mine. Dive in. She asked for feral, she'll fucking get it. She matches my intensity, her own hands finding purchase in the curls at my temples, her leg rising against mine as if she's trying to climb me. I help her by pulling her knee up to my hip. She rises on her toes to keep balance as she starts to writhe against me. Hip to hip.

We're so ready, but it's far too soon for my cock to drive in. She wants oblivion, not a quickie.

Abandoning her head, I snake my hand down her side, over the ample curve of her plump ass and slip my fingers into her cunt. She cries into my mouth and tries to rise further, but her height won't allow it. I help with a hand on her ass, easily lifting her up so she can wrap those silky-smooth legs around my waist.

"Get inside me," she cries.

"Fuck my fingers, Ode. I'll get you there," I tell her.

"It won't be enough," she practically whines, and I stifle a laugh while I insert another. She hums and starts working her hips in earnest.

"Do you dream of this, Ode? How long have you been aching for me to make you come?"

"I haven't," she pants.

"Liar." I walk us out of the bathroom and unceremoniously drop her onto the bed. She pouts at the sudden change, since it robbed her of an orgasm. She can play games, but I want those played in truths. "You can come when you tell me the fucking truth."

She narrows her eyes but doesn't recant.

Dropping to my knees on the floor, I pull her body to the end of the bed, placing a leg over each shoulder and her cunt right where I want it. She's beautiful everywhere. Perfect. Odette props herself up on her elbows, allowing a clear view down her body to where I perch at her entrance. Still, she says nothing.

I tease her first with soft air that makes her eyelashes flutter. Then I scent her, just the tip of my nose grazing her folds and clit. That makes her lips part, and her blink lasts a long few seconds. A kiss to her thigh and another a little closer. She twitches, needy and impatient. I feel the tension in her legs as she curls her toes behind my back.

My tongue slowly takes a first taste, not too deep or long. Just enough to have us both anticipating the next.

"I fucking knew," I whisper.

"You knew what?"

"That I remembered the way you taste. The way you smell. Like an iced cinnamon roll."

"I do not," she protests.

"You fucking do. And it's been burned into my senses for decades. I couldn't escape it, ever," I say before going in for another taste. Only this time, I don't stop, I can't. Not when she's this delicious, this ready and willing. Not when her thighs tighten around my head because she is just as hungry for this as I am. Her hips rock, matching the same rhythm as my tongue, my nose bumping her clit with each thrust as she earnestly fucks my face. I pull away slightly to ask, "The truth?"

Her hand finds the top of my head, pushing it back where she wants it as she cries out one single word that sends my own head spinning.

"Forever."

Seconds later, she shatters, and I savor every ounce of it, my fingers tight on her thighs holding her close.

Forever. Just like I'd hoped.

Standing, I flip her over to her stomach.

"On your knees, pumpkin. Ass in the air, arms stretched out in front of you." She obeys, and I collect the last remnants from her pussy, spreading them over my cock so we both shine with it. I'd love to wrap her hair around my fist while I ride her, but she's fragile enough about it and that's not the sort of damage I want to cause her right now.

I want to cause the kind that makes every other man insignificant. Boring and underwhelming. I want to make this an experience she can't get over, so that she'll be willing to come back for more. I want her body to beg her mind and her heart for more of me. Hell yes, I'm laying claim to Odette Quinn. She doesn't have to accept that yet, but she will. I can wait a little longer, it's already been twenty fucking years, after all.

Lining my cock up to her, I push in without warning. My mind screams mine, mine, mine , as Odette moans my name. I want to punish her for making me wait so long. But it's me who takes the lesson. Me who learns with every drag against her clenching pussy what I could have had before now if I'd been stronger. Braver. Wiser.

We should have had this before. Her clawing at the sheets of her impossibly large bed, me gripping her ass, spreading it wide so I can see myself enter her.

"Fuck, . That's…it's so…fuck."

I climb over her, my knees on either side of her ass, still pounding into her as I lean over. Pressing kisses across her shoulder and up her neck to her ear. "Good?"

"Mmhmm."

"Do you want to come again?"

"Need," she gasps. "Need to. Oh, fuck."

Snaking an arm under her breasts to hold her to me, I roll us over so I'm on my back. I pump into her, moving my fingers to play with her clit. She's so sensitive she instinctively tries to squirm away from them before huffing and pushing herself against them to get what she needs. Her arm raises above her head, finding my curls again as she crashes through another orgasm.

"You're a hair puller," I whisper. "I like that."

"Oh god, sorry."

"Don't fucking be, keep doing it," I demand, then reposition us again. I prop her head and shoulders on pillows before I kneel between her legs, taking another taste of her. "It is fucking cinnamon. Taste for yourself."

Wrapping my fingers around her wrists, I stretch our arms above our heads and seal my mouth to hers. She strains to meet me, again trying to match my energy, but she's worn out already. Still, I won't go easy on her just yet.

She wants feral oblivion. I widen her legs with my knees and slam back into her. I swallow her gasps and moans, but I don't stop. I release one of her arms and immediately she's yanking at my hair, pulling my head back so we stare at each other while I fuck her with abandon. Sweat beads at the apple of her cheeks, and I lap it up.

"I've miss…" she starts, biting her lip to keep the rest of the words inside.

I've missed it, too , my head screams while my body threatens to rebel if it doesn't get what it wants soon. My hips push into her, finding the right spot that makes her eyes roll back. Yeah, I've missed this. I've missed this connection; the physical one and the one far less obvious.

I've missed the way she clenches around my cock and the way she pushes her gorgeous tits against me. I've missed the way she stares up at me in awe, like I'm some fucking immortal god.

I've missed how one look from her is enough to make me feel like I could conquer cities, countries, and worlds with just my two bare hands. Most of all, I've missed the affection that I still see there. It's all I need, a spark that I can nurture into an inferno.

Some hope.

With that in my heart, I rear up and fuck her ferally now.

"You're going to come with me and those haunting eyes of yours do not leave mine. Do you understand? They don't fucking leave mine." She nods, her sight a little glazed over but she does as she's told. I thumb her clit, so lightly, barely a touch, and her body levitates off the bed, her lashes shuttering. "Odette."

"Sorry, sorry. Fuck, , I'm so close."

"Come, Ode," I get the coarse words out as I feel the first stream leave me and enter her. Her body shudders, and she fights to keep her eyes open as I empty into her, and she takes everything I have to offer while she gives me the same. No, there's no way I'm not laying claim to this woman. There's something indelible between us that couldn't be erased by even time. She's completely spent, the only part of her moving is her chest still heaving to regulate breath. "Stay put."

I head back into the bathroom to clean up, and get a warm washcloth and the lotion to combat muscle fatigue. After gently cleaning up Odette, I sit behind her and start rubbing the lotion in at her neck and shoulders.

She hasn't said anything, she's just followed me with her stare, taking in every step I make. Yet, she's not fussing to make me stop. She's not tensing up, instead she's relaxed and languid. I move my thumbs in circles over her collarbone and down her arms, she falls farther back into me, her breathing growing shallower by the minute.

"You're a great dad, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so, but only Tori can really say. I try to be, anyway."

"She moved back here to be close to you. I think that is probably answer enough."

"I guess," I say. "Though I think partly, she wanted to give her mom the space to create a life that didn't revolve around being a mother. Once she realized what all Caroline gave up."

That does make Odette's muscles firm under my fingers. I'm not implying that Caroline was the only one to give something up, not at all. We all did. We all paid a price. But if Odette wants to go down that road of conversation, she's going to have to say the words. She's already said several times she doesn't want to talk about it.

"Will you tell me about getting drafted?" she asks, and so I do. Leaving out some of the details, like Caroline and Tori being by my side. I focus, instead, on the nervousness I felt, then the joy, then the apprehension because it's very difficult to feel worthy to play on a team of men you grew up idolizing.

I tell her about my first professional practice and my first game in The Show. How I was so worked up I didn't sleep the night before and ran on pure adrenaline. What I don't tell her is that the first game I played in New York City, I nearly looked her up. The urge to track her down was stronger than almost anything I'd ever felt, but I tamped it down, not wanting to disturb any life she'd built for herself. I definitely don't tell her that the urge never left, or that every time I stepped off a plane in New York, I searched the crowds, hoping for a glimpse of her.

She makes comments here and there, or asks questions for more details, and laughs when I recall the way the guys razzed me as a rookie. It's a sleepy laugh, muffled by the pillow she snuggles into.

By the time I've finished telling her about my first season, I've massaged every inch of every limb, and her eyes are barely open.

She hasn't kicked me out, though. So, I snuggle in behind her and pull the comforter up around our shoulders while I listen to our hearts matching tempo. Tomorrow won't be so easy with her, I fear. She'll wake with her shell firmly intact, all the cracks from today repaired. She'll go back to being the strong, independent woman who doesn't rely on anyone for anything.

I'll go back to admiring her for it, but it will be different now. Because I won't forget that when she did need something, it was me she let give it. Not just the sex, she let me comfort her, which means measurably more.

Realistically, I know where this goes. She'll keep me in the friend zone. She'll likely even keep dating the stuffy guy. For now, it's enough. For now, I'll take what she gives.

For now. Not forever.