Chapter 3: “Come On Get Higher & Lose Control”

Sigh…quickly followed by an, “I’m starving!” from Grace. She was still nestled right there against Gibson’s chest, their bodies swaying together under the spray, letting the shower work it’s magic.

Another sigh, this one from Gibby, as he knew he’d have to break their embrace at some point. Always, always too soon. “It’s that mountain air, gives everyone a powerful appetite. I’ll see if I can’t whip us up something for breakfast.”

“It’s not just the mountain air, my dear, and we both know it. What are you going to ‘whip up’? Last I remember, your specialty when we were in school was pizza rolls.” a self-satisfied giggle bubbles out of Grace at this memory.

“Hey, at least I baked them in the oven like a civilized person.”, referring to her preference to microwave just about anything during those long days juggling school and work. At this he grabs one of the towels from the hook and begins to wrap it around Grace’s shoulders. As he does so he says, “Don’t worry, my skills have greatly improved since then.”

Grace turns, fully wrapping the towel around her chest and gives Gibby a chaste kiss followed by what can only be described as a cat that ate the canary grin. “They set the bar, before. But now..” and she leaves the compliment hanging in the warming air between them.

“Ha!”, is Gibby’s only momentary response to that grin. He was always a sucker for those dimples. “Go get dressed. I need to rescue my clothes from the office. Meet you in the kitchen.”

At this, Grace turns to leave. Gibby snatches her hand loosely one last time, parting with, “And hey, I keep my jeans in the bottom drawer.”

It’s Grace’s turn to utter a semi-shocked, “Ha!” and that’s all she can muster verbally as she’s wondering how the hell that man can read her thoughts after all this time. Gibson watches her go, wrapping a towel around himself, fully jealous of the one hugging her curves.

Back in Gibson’s bedroom, Grace heads straight for the drawer, as if on a mission. As a young woman, Grace had “borrowed” a pair of Gibby’s jeans. Her motivation at the time was part curiosity and part daring. One of the first things Grace had noticed about Gibby was how damn good he looked in those jeans. She wondered if she could pull them off as she first pulled them on. She’d also wanted something that had touched his skin to touch hers as well.

Her motivation today was only slightly less complex. Yes, she’d wanted to relive some of the rush, to feel a possession of his become hers. But it was so much more than nostalgia. She also wanted to drive Gibby absolutely out of his mind. Little did Grace know how it would feel to slide them on again.

Decisions to make as she’s getting dressed are accompanied by the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of music in her head. Which shapes the other? Something to think about later as she can hear music from the kitchen drifting down the hall. She was going to put the knee socks she’d worn last night back on just as she hears Joss Stone sing out “Put Your Hands on Me”, and it’s then she knows she’ll dance barefoot as well. Her body sheathed in Gibby’s jeans and an impossibly soft t-shirt. No undergarments to speak of, either by plan or the drive of hunger. 

Gibson doesn’t even look up as she enters a room for the second time this morning. ‘Sonofabitch’ Grace thinks to herself as Gibson slides a steaming mug of tea her way across the counter. Builders tea she thinks it’s called, but she only has eyes for the man in front of her.

‘Sonofabitch’ Gibby’s only thought as she’s not only in his jeans, but somehow looks even better in them now than she did all those years ago.

He’d only had time to set out ingredients for a popeye scramble, Grace’s favorite, and make that cup of tea just the way he knew she liked it; brewed to within an inch of its life and sweetened just as aggressively to keep the bitter at bay.

“Can I help?” Grace asks as he begins to whisk half a dozen eggs in a ceramic bowl.

“Well, the bacon is in the oven, I’ve got the eggs, you wanna tear up some spinach?” Gibby wants to give her something to do aside from preoccupy every single one of his brain cells.

She comes around the counter to stand next to him and begins on her task in earnest. They work together quietly for only a few moments when the refrain of, “Come on get higher, loosen my lips, faith and desire and the swing of your hips…” and Grace can’t help but to move her own hips right along to the song, enjoying the friction that for now is hers alone.

“Those are going to be the fluffiest eggs of all time.” Grace nods at the fact that Gibby’s no longer gently stirring the eggs, but whisking in a figure-eight that matches her movements.

“Did you try your tea? How is it? Did I make it right?” Gibby replies to delay her gratification at his utter undoing.

“It’s delicious. Warm and sweet.” Grace says and purposefully picks up the mug for another sip. “Would you like a taste?” she asks pointedly and holds the mug toward him as an offering.

Gibson takes the mug out of her hands, places it on the counter between them and kisses her, tasting that unique concoction on Grace’s lips. “Yep, delicious.” his reply as he breaks the connection, keeping his eyes locked on hers, his tongue gliding along his lower lip.

Just as Grace is realizing that he has fully noticed her in those jeans of his, Gibby fists his hands on each side of her hips and pulls the fabric right down in one fell swoop. The very next instant, he grabs her bare hips and boosts her up on the kitchen counter, their breakfast ingredients the last thing on either of their minds. She doesn’t even have time to gasp.

“You had to go commando, didn’t you”, Gibby mumbles, not only to present-day Grace, but to the Grace that’s so vivid in his memory. But his memory of her could never live up to the woman whose sex is in full view at this moment. She’s so excited it’s practically glistening right there at his elbows as he bends to bring his mouth closer.

He can smell her before he even opens his mouth, one warm breath against her bare skin. A second kiss in a many minutes, this one tasting no less sweet. He follows with the slowest lick he can muster, from the base of her slit up to rest against her throbbing clit, gently prodding it as he watches her reaction.

Grace’s breathing is unsteady and she rocks her hips closer to Gibby’s mouth, craving the friction, entirely different yet reminiscent of the fabric that was just there. It’s then Grace realizes it’s just Gibby’s mouth providing all of her pleasure. She glances down to see Gibby’s hand firmly wrapped around his own cock and she’s so turned on she nearly loses it. A breathless, “God, Gibby” all that escapes as her head falls back.

“Mmmhhmm.. let me taste you” Gibby urges just as the song is asking her to climax as well. One more chorus and the song changes, just as Grace takes back her self control.

Ironically, the next song on the playlist is called “Lose Control”, but the slow, sultry opening notes serve as the chance for Grace slide herself back down off of the counter. She shows Gibby she doesn’t need to use her hands either. A simple shift of her hips brings Gibby inside her, filling her as far as he can go. Achingly slowly, they move together as the song crescendos and comes back for another verse. 

Gibby grabs Grace’s ass, her legs pinned together, arms wrapped around and hooked first on his shoulders then gaining purchase on his low back as his thrusts match the “I. Lose. Contol..” being sung just for them. Grace briefly sinks her teeth into Gibby’s shoulder as he picks up the pace, holding on for dear life. This only serves to drive them both over the edge, Grace’s head falling back with a shout. “Oh!” all three of them exclaim within milliseconds of one another, Grace, Gibby and Teddy all losing control together. Grace, as usual, dissolves into a fit of giggles while simultaneously melting into Gibby.

She doesn’t know that these giggles serve to grip Gibby’s heart as well as his sex as he is holding her so close, coming back down to a kitchen that has been filling with smoke.

“I think we forgot there was bacon in the oven!” Grace’s giggles turn into full-blown laughter. “Should we go out for breakfast?” Grace asks as she attempts to gather herself.

“Only if you promise to wear those jeans.” is Gibby’s reply, attempting the same, heart in his eyes.