Authors: M. Mabie
Sail (Wake #2)
Sail: The Wake Series, Book Two
Copyright © 2015 M. Mabie
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, alive or dead, is coincidental and not indented by the author.
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DISCLAIMER. This is a work of adult fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author does not endorse or condone any behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.
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Also by the
author
The Wake Series
For my moms,
Linda and Lucille
Friday, January 1, 2010
SHE WAS SO TIGHT.
Concave and convex, we fit together like two praying hands. A prayer that begged for absolution and time. We were both sinners and the truth of that hurt. But having her in my arms, her mouth on mine, I couldn’t understand how I’d ever be forgiven. And I didn’t want to be.
Her hands met my flesh and searched for something lost. She pulled at my hair and her lips met my neck. Hot and greedy, she sucked and bit at me.
Our sweat mixed. Our breaths shared.
I hovered above her on my elbows, my hands cradling her head to ensure she was really there. Ten fingers scored my back. One pink nose encouraged me. Two clear eyes penetrated mine, conveying everything I knew was true.
Her guilt.
Her pain.
Her love.
And I fucking owned all of it.
“I love you,” she said. Or maybe she didn’t, but I heard it anyway. She was terrible at loving me. Never getting it right, but she tried. She fought hard, usually with herself, and that alone gave me hope.
At this point in the game, if she didn’t love me, she was plain crazy. The heaven she helped create. The hell she’d put us through. They were one and the same.
Our bodies moved together. Old hat. They knew this dance. We left them to it. The mechanics of fucking like we did came naturally. It was the feelings we had the hardest time navigating.
“Just stay this time,” I said, knowing she didn’t have a choice. “Don’t go.”
Her eyes met mine with a fire in them and I recognized the hint of guilt. The ebony-colored irises melted into the deep black as they dilated. Her honest pink nose told me the truth.
My lower back tensed as I pushed into her slowly, a rhythm too intense because it was barely there at all.
Her hands rounded my ass as it clenched, and she pushed against me, inviting me to give her more. Her hands knew more about her heart than she realized.
“I never leave you. Even when I’m gone. I’m
here.
” She didn’t indicate exactly where
here
was, but the expression on her face told me it was the place where we both belonged.
I buried myself and held still inside her, only rocking my hips a little, creating a friction between us. A move I was well-practiced in, and knew all too well how it affected her. Her legs wrapped around me, and she held on tight, pressing herself against me, building an orgasm that would go off at any second.
She fucked me like it gave her purpose. She always had. Fast. Slow. Gentle. Rough. Standing. Lying down. Bent over. Front. Back. Every way we knew. She loved it all. She responded to soft kisses on her neck as much as she did when I pulled her hair.
I moved my hand in between us and traced the pad of my thumb over her, rubbing Os that matched the one on her face.
“Tell me you love me,” she begged. Those precious words were not often shared between us, but who needed words? Not us. Our talk was cheap and sometimes saying them felt like much less than what they really meant. But my honeybee wanted to hear them. From my lips to her ears, I’d wash her body with them and every other word in my meager vocabulary, if it meant she was really mine.
“I’ve loved you,” I whispered, as I pressed into her, deeper than I’d allowed myself until then, “and I’ve hated you, too.”
She flexed around my cock, my words jarring her. It felt so fucking good, and I bowed my head moaning a slur of expletives.
“You’ve hated me?”
“I had to. Ah.” She flexed again, but the look on her face wasn’t one for poker; instead it showed amusement. She tightened once more around my dick, and I instinctively rolled my hips. “Ah.” I wanted so badly to thrust into her over and over until we were both screaming and satisfied. But I held firm.
“Why? Why’d you have to hate me?”
The small sliver of light from the other room hit her eyes just right and they appeared to be glowing. She was lit up. Cheeks flushed. Fevered skin that matched the heat inside me.
“Because it was too much—too much to figure out. If I didn’t hate you at times, I would have hated me, and that wouldn’t have done either of us any good.”
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her body to mine as I sat back. Her legs remained curled around me, and when I sat back fully, she sank down on me, allowing me to feel the end of her. Blake’s head tipped back, rolling from side to side.
“You feel so good,” she said. “Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t want to.”
She rode me like she had many times before. I was in heaven.
Then, it was hell.
“I’ll never leave you, Grant.”
Grant?
What the fuck?
Everything got cloudy and warped. I shook my head to clear the words I thought I’d just heard her say and when I did I saw everyone in the room. My family. Her brother, Reggie. My ex, Aly. And Grant.
They all watched.
Grant said, “I know, Betty. When you’re finished playing with your toy, let’s go home.”
Then, I woke up. My stomach tied in knots. Alone.
