Page 27

Indy

The rest of the night at Coney Island, Loren was quiet.

Devastatingly so. It seemed whatever progress we’d made had been undone, and I couldn’t fathom why.

I stayed by his side while Gunnar and Dottie binged on rides, Sully and Whitney made eyes at each other, and Abigail watched with mute interest. Apparently, we had another wallflower in our midst.

After we returned home, Loren barely waited for me to change into pajamas before dragging me into bed.

The contact, the affection, came as a relief.

I slept till morning and woke tangled in his arms. He nosed into my hair and trapped my legs between his, and the silence was tolerable.

It was cozy and intimate, and I caught myself nodding off.

When I roused again, it was well past noon.

Loren had shifted down in the bed to rest his head on my stomach and wrap his arms around my waist. He lay there, settled in and softly breathing while he stared out the bedroom window.

I smoothed my hand through his hair, then sectioned off one silky black lock to twirl around my finger.

“Did you have fun at the park?” I asked.

“I thought it went well.”

“Mmhmm.”

Today was another bad day.

The melancholia, the depression, cast a shadow over our trailer.

Despite my presence, Loren was alone in it.

Trapped in the dark, plagued by unhappy thoughts that robbed him of peace.

I hated it.

Cupping my hand to his cheek, I turned his head until his eyes met mine.

There wasn’t anything to say.

Sometimes the sorrow just had to work itself out.

All we could do was endure the storm and rest assured it would end.

Today was a bad day; tomorrow would be better.

Bending in, I kissed him gently.

I didn’t intend to linger.

He often needed space when he was like this, and my stomach was starting to complain about our missed breakfast.

“I’m gonna fix some cereal,” I said.

“You want some?”

Snagging the pillow from his side of the mattress, I pulled it over, planning to cushion his head with it in my absence.

I’d barely begun to slide out from under him when his grip on me cinched down and he turned to bury his face in the soft cotton of my pajama top.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him.

“I can even eat here if you want. Maybe just a Pop Tart. Less messy… You sure you aren’t hungry?”

When I shifted again, Loren pushed up on one arm, then crawled upward until his face was level with mine.

His expression was unreadable, but before I could ask what he was thinking, he caught me with another kiss.

Unlike my passing peck, this was deep and as unexpected as him feeding me cotton candy then sucking it off my lips.

I’d had hopes after that, and was optimistic again when he’d reeled me into bed like a hooked fish.

The night full of cuddles was nothing to complain about, but this…

maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

“I was starting to think you’d lost your appetite,” I teased.

His mouth captured mine with fervor, stealing words and thought.

His hands followed, gripping onto my shoulder and hip as he situated himself above me.

I leaned into him, hoping to feel his hardness through his flannel pants and wanting him to feel me, too, as my cock began to swell.

The kisses continued, our lips parting and tongues sliding over each other.

I tilted my head to invite him further into me, then I gripped his waist with one hand and knotted the other in his hair.

The first tug on his scalp made him whimper, and warm air puffed across my face.

My dick twitched, and I pulled again, greedy for a repeat performance.

For that, I was rewarded with an open-mouthed groan.

“Oh fuck, baby,” I murmured.

“Forget the Pop Tart. I’ll make a meal out of you.”

My hand slid down to his crotch so I could cup him through his pants.

Another breath ghosted over my neck, chased by a lustful sound.

I wasn’t sure how we got here from his previously morose mood, but I wasn’t about to question it.

Not when Loren was halfway through tugging off my shorts and stripping me down to the lacy red thong that barely covered my stiff cock.

Lips, fingers, tongues, teeth…

everything was touching, groping, grabbing.

It was almost frantic, heating up until my skin was thoroughly flushed.

I shoved at his shirt, clumsy but effective enough to get him bare-chested before he pressed against me.

I ran my hands over his back, his sides, his arms, feeling every muscle that flexed as he scooped me off the bed and rolled me.

In a single swift movement, I was on my belly, and I didn’t even try to be coy about it.

I rocked my ass into him, grinding on his dick and begging shamelessly.

He palmed my ass cheeks, spreading me open.

My breath caught, and a desperate cry squeaked out.

He left my thong on, sliding the back strap aside and pinning it in place with his thumb.

I barely had time to brace on my arms before his tongue drew a warm, wet line from my ball sack to my asshole.

I jerked, fisting the bedsheets as he licked me again, slowly circling my opening.

It was agonizing, overwhelming, and I dipped lower until I was face-down, ass up on the mattress.

When his tongue dipped inside me, I cried out, wanting to thrust back and take him deeper, harder.

I’d joked about making a meal of him, but here he was eating me out like I was a goddamn dessert.

I whined and squirmed as his fingertips dug into my hips, the pressure adding another sensation to the swirl in my brain.

I was definitely sweating now, and my cock strained at my panties.

“Baby? Baby…” I mewled as he entered me again, tongue fucking me till I was panting with need.

My dick jerked, and I loosed one hand from the sheets to reach for it.

I needed friction, to be touched, and god, I needed to be fucked.

“ Loren ,” I whined, struggling to get my fingers around my cock and wishing the damn underwear weren’t slowing me down.

I’d barely begun to fumble with the sheer lace when Loren pulled out of me.

He lurched forward, grabbing my wrist and pinning it to the mattress beside my head.

I cried out in protest but stayed where I was put while he moved again.

If I’d thought the flip into doggystyle was fast, his raid of the bedside table for a palmful of lube was even quicker.

My breathing picked up, and I steadied myself as he tugged off his pajama bottoms. Within seconds, he was fully nude and kneeling behind me, aligning his cockhead with my entrance.

His mouth had left me loose and wet, but it was still a stretch to take him.

He pushed in slowly, driving out moans with every inch.

When he bottomed out, I sighed.

So fucking full. So thoroughly taken, claimed, owned.

He could turn me into such a slut.

He’d never say that, but I felt it.

On my hands and knees for him, exposed and as eager as a cock-starved whore.

But he was waiting for me to move, to take him as fast and deep as I wanted—as I needed .

His hands curved around my sides, steadying me until I rocked forward, then shoved back into him hard enough his balls slapped against mine.

Loren grunted, and I thrust again, moving my whole body, fucking myself on his dick.

I gasped and gripped the sheets, taking every bit of his length as I railed against him over and again.

My weeping cock rubbed the lace of my panties, and I fumbled for it.

Same as before, Loren caught my wrist and moved it higher on the bed.

I whimpered and writhed, speared on his dick and losing my rhythm entirely.

Precum soaked through the narrow crotch of my thong as Loren took over and pumped into me.

I dissolved into a trembling mess, seated on his dick while wave after wave of heady bliss washed over me.

Release came before I expected it, and my cock jumped, spurting cum through the holes in the lace.

It dripped between my legs, adding to the puddle on the sheets while my ass clenched around Loren.

He hissed a breath, bent over me and breathing as heavily as I was.

His hold on my shoulders loosened, and I slithered down, unable to support myself on my limp arms.

I’d collapsed on the mattress seconds before Loren grabbed my hips and pulled me onto my knees.

I moaned, too wobbly, too head-swimmy, too thoroughly fucked to take him anymore.

The feeling of his cock sliding out, then reentering me started my body shaking.

“Lore,” I gasped, my face pressed into the bedsheets already damp with drool.

“God, Lore, fuck…”

My limp dick twitched as he reseated himself inside me.

My stomach was smeared with my own cum, and my skin was slicked with sweat.

I was wrung out, empty, but that meant I was ready to be filled.

Clenching my fists, I rocked weakly back into him.

Loren took the encouragement and ran with it, squeezing tightly around my waist and plunging deep.

I yelped as he snapped his hips into me.

Quick, powerful thrusts stole my breath until it was all I could do to take him, fully relaxed and letting him work my body over his cock.

Every time he slammed into me, it rattled my brain, reducing my thoughts to a fuzzy cloud of pleasure and my words to rambling whines.

“Baby… That’s good, baby. Don’t stop… I need you… I need…”

I needed his release.

I wanted to be bursting, overflowing, and adding his mess to mine where it stained the sheets.

Loren knew, and he gave it to me.

I was boneless by the time his orgasm filled me.

Cum flooded my ass and seeped out the sides of his dick as he plunged in twice more, fucking it deeply into me before he pulled back.

I moaned and slumped forward, feeling hot and wet all over.

Loren’s hands smoothed up my spine and under the hem of my pajama top.

His touches were feathery as he lay beside me, then rested his head in the dip of my lower back.

Everything was still except for his fingers.

They kept moving, dragging down my body in long, seamless strokes.

For all the moisture coming from everywhere—pooled between my legs, smeared across my stomach, and leaking out of my used hole—it surprised me to feel a new spot of wetness forming under Loren’s cheek.

He must have noticed it, too, because he sat up abruptly and wiped his arm across his eyes.

Was he crying?

It wasn’t unusual for me to get emotional, even weepy, about a good fuck, but Loren was more composed.

He felt as deeply as I did, more so sometimes, but was less apt to show it.

It took effort to sit up and turn toward him.

He was definitely crying and trying to hide it by dragging his shirt over his face as he shouldered into it.

I reached for him as he stood from the bed.

“Lore?” My voice was hoarse, and I coughed to clear it.

“Was it that good?”

He glanced back and flashed a smile that fell far short of convincing.

Walking down the side of the mattress, he came close enough to lean in and kiss my forehead.

“It was wonderful, Doll,” he said, then straightened.

“Why don’t you get washed up? I’ll change the sheets.”

“And then you’ll join me in the shower?” I asked hopefully.

That same wavering smile crossed his face, and he nodded.

He turned away, in a hurry to leave, it seemed, and I didn’t believe the rush had anything to do with the messy bed.

I called after him again, causing him to draw up short.

“I think we should go to the museum,” he said before I could speak.

“How’s that sound?”

His back was still to me, which seemed strange, but I nodded anyway.

“Great,” I said. “I’d love that.”

“Dinner after?” he offered.

“We could make a day of it.”

I felt another rush of sensation, but this one was all in my heart.

Coney Island, the Wonder Wheel, cotton candy, sex, and now an honest-to-goodness date?

Maybe we’d finally had a breakthrough.

Maybe we were getting somewhere.

Closer to okay.

I sprang off the bed, unsteady but eager as I yanked off my shirt and undies and added them to the rumpled sheets.

“Shower, then breakfast, then the museum.” I skirted past Loren on my way to the bathroom, clenching my ass to keep from dripping cum on the floor.

“I heard they have a Thierry Mugler exhibit right now. Part of his fashion line.” Pausing in the doorway, I peered up the center aisle of the trailer.

Loren lingered on the steps of the bedroom loft, wearing a faraway look that made me wonder if he was listening.

“You remember him, right?” I pressed.

“The ‘Glamazon’ guy?”

Loren shook his head.

“Well, it’s better than Joss Foster and his trash party.” I shrugged, then frowned.

“Don’t tell Sully I said that. I liked the trash party, too, but this is couture .”

I stepped into the bathroom and went straight to the shower, cranking the water on to hot.

While I waited for it to warm up, I glanced at the piles of makeup on the sink counter.

I finger-walked my way around a cup of brushes and a pot of gold body glitter, then hung my head into the hall again.

“Hey, Lore?”

He was on the steps with his arms folded across his chest, looking out the window above my art desk the same way he’d stared out our bedroom window all morning.

Thinking.

I knew without asking they weren’t the kind of thoughts he would share with me.

He stirred to my summons, so fucking gorgeous in just pajama pants with his hair tousled.

When he met my eyes, nerves wriggled like snakes in my gut.

“Should I get pretty?” I asked, then ticked my finger at him.

“And don’t say I already am. You know what I mean.”

His smile made my already weak knees wobble.

“Yeah, Doll,” he said. “Get pretty.”