Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (89)

“Look at you, baby, you’re so pretty. Dripping fucking wet for me.” I spread her legs wider to get the perfect view, and Sage lets me push them further than I thought possible. She doesn’t strain, and that’s from years of ballet. When I sink into her, her eyes squeeze shut like she’s in pain. When I’m about to stop, she opens them, and it’s like the sun has risen.

I’m barely holding back, trying to get her where she needs to be. Closing my eyes is the only way I can delay my release now, because looking at her flushed face isn’t helping slow anything down. She squeezes around me and I try not to burst. My heart keens, and Sage gasps.

“I’m coming,” she pants.

“Thank God,” I grunt.

Her arms sling around my neck, and she watches me move in and out of her, and when my piercings hit the right spot, she screams my name. I fucking love it. Then, when I put my lips to her ear and tell her to come again, she does, pulling my release too. Once again proving her idea that she’s difficult is wrong and reminding her when she’s with me she’ll never not be satisfied.

My release feels violent. It contracts every muscle in my body and wrings out every last ounce of pleasure from me. My chest heaves and I shudder in the aftermath.

I climb off Sage and fall on my back. She nuzzles my neck when I pull her closer.

“You’re clingy after sex? Who would’ve guessed?” Her chuckle is short-lived, and when she looks up at me, I know what she’s thinking.

“Real,” I say. “It’s all real.”

“And this is all of you?” she asks softly.

“Yeah, baby. It is.”

Sage runs a finger along my abdomen, tracing the curves of each muscle. “And it’s mine?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Then why haven’t you asked me to be your girlfriend, Elias?”

I turn to face her, lifting her chin so she looks at me. “If you think I’d fuck anyone other than my girlfriend like that, you’re mistaken.”

She continues to look at me expectantly. Not budging. My stubborn girl.

I sigh. “Will you be my real girlfriend, Sage Beaumont?”

It sounds ridiculous to ask. She’s mine. She’s been mine from the very beginning, and asking her to be my girlfriend? It sounds like a weak title compared to how she makes me feel.

Sage rolls a shoulder. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

I drag her underneath me again, and she giggles uncontrollably. Holding myself up on my forearms, I watch Sage brush her curls away from her face and pucker her lips to suppress a smile.

I kiss her. “Say it.”

“Fine,” she relents. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

I flip on my back to pull the comforter over both of us, and she smiles contentedly into my chest. Sage lies right on top of me, over the steady beat of my heart that sings the same song whenever she’s with me.





THIRTY-NINE


SAGE




AS I STEP into the kitchen on a Saturday afternoon, I’m wrapped in a stomach-growling aroma. It’s been weeks and we’ve been stocked with fresh baked goods. When he sees me, Elias lifts me onto the counter. He hands me a bowl of strawberries, as if to keep me occupied, like I’m some annoying child who would distract him. It makes me smile anyway.

“Do I get to help?” I ask.

He pipes frosting onto a batch of cupcakes. “Sit there and be a good girl, Sage.”

My thighs squeeze involuntarily. He called me that over and over this morning when I dropped to my knees in the shower. But the way he pulled my hair and urged my head further down on him did not make me feel like a good girl at all. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Why are you making cupcakes?”

“Just trying something new.” He places one on his palm and turns to me with a boyish smile. Like a student showing the teacher their finished artwork. “Open your mouth.”

“And you say I’m inappropriate.”

“Just do it, baby.”

I comply, savoring the cupcake as he feeds me the first bite. I hum out a grateful sound. He chuckles, handing me the whole thing before tending to the rest.

“That is so good. It tastes different, what did you put in it?”

“They’re sugar-free,” he says.

A fist grips my heart. “Why?”

Elias doesn’t look at me, but I know he hears the hitch in my voice. Once he’s finished with the cupcakes, he trails his hands up my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the counter. “Probably been a while since Sean’s had a good cupcake.”

My heart explodes into a mini fireworks show. But Elias doesn’t let me say thank you. Instead, he kisses me, and those fireworks burst in my mouth too. He tilts my head up and slips his tongue between my lips. I let him kiss me however he wants, and I enjoy the taste of him mingling with the vanilla icing.

When I tighten my legs around his hips, the fabric of his jeans rubs along the inside of my thighs. He breaks the kiss abruptly.

“Easy,” he warns, reminding me of Sean’s proximity.

I reluctantly let him pull away.

My little brother is a few doors down the hall in the shower. Sean is with us this weekend because he wanted to make up for missing my birthday. He stays at school all year long, and never complains, but it must be torture.