The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(264)

My frown transformed into a mask of sincerity. He was right. I wouldn’t be mad if I didn’t care… but I did. A little too much. And I hated it… No, I loved it. I was too wrapped up in it that I didn’t even face the reality of it. We had some kind of connection and it wasn’t safe… but I didn’t mind it. I looked past it because I was enjoying it.

Gage’s head tilted as he moved in closer. I bit my bottom lip, but he reached a finger up to stop me. He then picked me up to place me on top of the old-school washing machine. It was cold and hard beneath me, but I stayed in place, stuck in a deep trance by those mesmerizing hazel eyes.

As he pulled me in by the waist, I gasped. He sank between my legs, his body warm against mine; his chest was against my stomach, his mouth on my collarbone. He kissed below my collarbone and I shivered, biting my nails into his skin. “I hate how good you feel… but I can never seem to stop touching you. Why the hell do you feel so good?” he growled, kissing up my neck.

I smiled. How exactly was I supposed to answer that question? My head fell back as he continued his kisses. He unbuttoned my shirt and then slid his hand up my leg to get beneath my skirt. He smiled as he got closer to the heat between my legs and I whimpered as he skimmed over it to caress my other leg. He was such a damn tease and he knew it because he laughed deeply. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “You care, all right.” His statement annoyed me but turned me on at the same time.

Finally, he freed me from my shirt and tossed it beside us. I ran the palms of my hands over his chest before sneaking them beneath his shirt. He looked down quickly and then up into my eyes. His were more intense than before. He licked his lips and I inhaled, wanting them against mine.

Pulling him to me, I cupped the back of his neck, braiding my fingers through his silky hair as I kissed him deeply. He groaned, grabbing my skirt and unbuttoning it. I adjusted myself so he could slide down my skirt, and I heard it drop on the floor. He groaned again, tasting the skin on my neck. His hand still cupped the back of my neck and tingles rode along every inch of my spine. Making out wasn’t enough. I needed more. I was sitting half-naked before him, aching for more of his touch, but he was already giving it all to me. He couldn’t have kissed me any more deeply. His hands were skimming me everywhere. He was getting a taste of every part of my body.

His lips trailed down my chest and he freed one of my nipples. I bucked as he sucked one of them, pulling me in closer to get between my legs with a deep groan. His cock poked against my stomach, causing me to moan even more. His head moved over to my other nipple and he sucked it slowly, licking fiercely but delicately and groaning once again.

My fingers got tangled in his hair, my breath continuously catching. I was trying to keep up with myself, but his tongue worked miracles against me. I finally decided I’d had enough. I pushed him back by the shoulders and pulled his shirt over his head. The palms of my hands pressed against his firm, inked chest and slid down until I was at the button of his jeans.

I looked into his eyes quickly and he was staring at me, his eyes glazed over and longing but slightly worried. I ignored the worry and ran with the longing. I unbuttoned his jeans and then hopped from the washing machine to pull his pants down. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as I lowered his jeans and then stuck my hands beneath his boxers. His flesh was soft and at my first touch, his whole body tensed. I started pulling back, but he shook his head. “Don’t,” he murmured, pulling me against him, his breath running across my lips. “Don’t stop. It feels good.” His forehead touched mine and I nodded, continuing the strokes again.

He tilted my chin up with his forefinger, his lips only a sliver away from mine. He panted as he stared into my eyes while I continuously stroked him. I’d never done this before so I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but he was getting pleasure out of it so I kept it going. Some mild profanity slipped between his teeth, his lips extremely close. He cursed again and I couldn’t take it anymore. I crushed his lips with my own, but I didn’t stop stroking the length of him.

He was thicker than I imagined. He was long as well, and I knew with what was in my hands, he could provide nothing but satisfaction to a woman’s body.

I moaned into his mouth and he cupped my face, deepening the kiss. His panting increased and a heavier, tighter ache built between my legs. I wanted him there. I wanted what was in my hands inside me already.

“Gage,” I whispered.

“Eliza, please don’t stop. I’m so close,” he breathed against me, making my stomach spiral. I swallowed. I didn’t want to stop and, in a freaky perspective, I liked seeing him this way. I liked how I provided his pleasure—how I had control over whether he was satisfied or not.

Gage turned and my back hit the wall. His chest pressed firmly on mine and he kissed me again as I slid my hand up and down his smooth hardness. He throbbed against my palms and groaned, deeply lodging his tongue into my mouth. His pleasure was burning and radiating into me. He growled against my lips before snatching his mouth away and lowering his head to kiss my neck. He hissed my name, tensing even more, and I knew it was coming.

I pumped harder, faster, and he gripped the back of my neck, digging his fingers into my skin. He cursed again, getting harder and harder until finally he growled loudly and sucked on my neck so hard I thought he’d bitten me. It was definitely going to leave a hickey. After a while, his sucking turned pleasurable and something hot and wet oozed down my hand. Knowing exactly what it was, I shook my head over his shoulder, my smile apprehensive.

Gage pulled back slowly, smirking down at me with lazy, infatuated eyes. “That was fucking great,” he murmured. “My turn now.” My eyes expanded, but I was left with no time to protest (I really didn’t want to) because he kissed me fiercely and my knees quaked as he placed me on top of the washing machine again. He’d changed the roles in a heartbeat and by the end of our eagerness—after a few heavenly minutes of Gage’s warm lips and tongue diving and licking the delicate, sweet nub between my legs—I was left completely satisfied.





SHOWER

Things moved at a faster pace after Gage and I established that maybe we did care for each other more than we were supposed to. A month and three weeks had passed since our bonfire bonding, but it didn’t feel like it’d been that long. The days and nights turned into weeks and it all started to become a messy blur. I knew it was because I didn’t have to worry over Gage or be a witness to his mindlessness. We were on better, sexier terms, and I was enjoying myself.

The cities passed by effortlessly and with each night there was fun with the addition of kissing, hugging, dancing, and laughing. On a few nights it would catch up to me and in the mornings my head would be killing me, but as Gage always said, “Suck it up. At least you’re still alive.”

From state to state, I learned something new about Gage. I found out his favorite song he’d ever written was the song the band hated. He admitted it was juvenile and that he was never going to sing it publicly, but after begging him for fifteen minutes straight, he finally sang it to me and I fell in love with the lyrics. How could I not? They were adorable and with his voice, I melted with each word.

“You hate it, don’t you?” he asked, unstrapping his guitar and placing it down.

I shook my head and climbed on his lap. Our touching was another thing that shocked a few, more so Ben, but he didn’t question it. In fact, he would smile at us from a distance. He used to wonder why I never went out, why I never talked to any boys, so seeing me flirting and going out with Gage, he didn’t complain much. I still couldn’t get over what he’d said to me a few weeks ago about keeping my heart away from Gage. My mind was still boggled over it, but it was something I never wanted to talk about again.

“I don’t hate it. I love it,” I said. His lips curled into a smirk and then he kissed my cheek.

A few more things I learned about Gage (that I never would have expected) were, one: he loved to cuddle, and two: he loved to touch. Any time we were together, his hands had to be on me unless they were occupied. Whether it was the small of my back, around my waist, around my shoulders, or even holding my hand, he was touching me somehow. I didn’t mind it. It was comforting and something I enjoyed because I’d never shared that with anyone before.

As for the cuddling part, whenever we were on the road and heading for another state, he would beg me to ride on the FireNine bus with him. I’d sleep in his bed after a night of laughing, giggling, flirting, play wrestling, and a few drinks in between. Roy and Deed tried their best to stay clear of us (which annoyed me) but Montana had become my best friend. I loved Montana’s personality, his meekness. Although he was a party animal and a massive flirt, he was still a sweet guy and knew exactly how to have fun.

During one of the bus rides, we decided to play a small game of beer pong. Since the boys hardly ever ate or drank on the bus, we had to use coffee mugs because they didn’t own any plastic cups. Montana filled each one with beer and pulled a white ball out of his suitcase.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never played beer pong before either, Miss Eliza,” Montana said, smirking at me over the bottle of beer in his hand.