by Mia Ford
“Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, I’m going to come right now,” Grant groans.
I’m moaning, I realize, too overwhelmed to say actual words as Grant works his magic on me. I’m trying to make him touch me again, unable to even form the sounds to beg for it.
“Fuck…” I groan out, my eyes rolling back. “It’s too much, Grant. Just fuck me already.”
“When I’m ready,” he says, and I groan, because he is doing this deliberately. At least I’m not the only one getting tortured right now. He’s torturing himself as well.
“Fuck you,” I say half-heartedly.
“It’s my turn tonight,” he says with a smirk.
I don’t even have a good retort from him. I’m shaking with need, helpless against his ministrations as his hands run up my body, pinching my breasts and gently urging my legs apart. Are we going to have sex out here? It would certainly fit the theme of couch sex that we seem to have going on.
Grant laughs and I realize I’ve said the words aloud.
“No,” he says, and his voice is deep and dark with promise. “I’m going to eat you out right here. Then we’re going to go to bed and I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”
My breath catches in my throat and my eyes flutter closed.
I can’t wait. I can deal with the repercussions of this tomorrow.
Chapter Seventeen
Grant
Whatever Jessica thinks, I know how much I’m going to regret this in the morning.
I just can’t bring myself to care about it right now.
Jessica is sprawled beneath me, her body ready and willing, waiting for my touch and for me to follow through on my promises. Even when I’m angry, I know how beautiful I find her. And, right now, she’s absolutely stunning as her naked body gleams with sweat and her hair, which has long since dried after her run through the rain, musses around her head.
There’s a part of me, though, that’s screaming with fury. Not at Jessica, but at myself. Am I really falling for this again? I think Jessica made the first move, not counting accidental finger brushes, but I certainly haven’t complained. In fact, I intentionally kissed Jessica before she could say anything about stopping for our own good. Jessica might have straddled me first, but I’m the one who is letting this continue on.
Because, despite everything, I want Jessica. I want her so badly. I still haven’t figured out if I want her, or if it’s just her body that I’m craving, too addicted to the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips to drag myself completely away from her. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. This addiction didn’t start, after all, until we first had sex at the bar on Friday night. Ever since then, part of my mind has been continuously ticking it over, remembering how it felt, and how it felt to have her in so much control.
Every little memory of both times that we have had sex is incredibly powerful, and I can’t get her out of my mind, no matter how much I want to. Even when I’m sober, the majority of my thoughts are taken up by her, my anger masking my hurt and confusion.
I still don’t know how I’m letting this happen again. I don’t know, yet, why she left me, and she’s remaining stubbornly quiet on the matter, despite wanting to start again in some way with me. Part of me thinks that I should just demand that she tells me everything before we ever see each other again, but that would be impossible, too. Even if I decide I hate her, I’ll still have to see her if I want to see Owen. Jessica and I are bound together now, by parenthood. If we want to be good parents to our little boy, we both need to get along in some way.
Still, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Getting along shouldn’t mean having sex at every possible opportunity. I’m so fucking weak when it comes to Jessica, and it’s showing. Despite how many times I bluster and tell her I don’t want her, that I just want an amicable relationship for Owen’s sake, my body tells on me every single time. I can’t walk away from Jessica. I’m trapped as long as I can’t escape the addiction of her touch.
“Do you have any fucking clue what you do to me?” I ask her roughly. “Your touch haunts me. I still know every part of your body, but I can’t wait to explore it again and again and again. I want you so badly, and I hate how much I want you.”
She moans loudly. She’s too far gone, I think, to completely hear what I just said, especially that last part, which slipped out without my permission. It’s the truth, though. I hate how emotionally connected to her I am. I hate being around her, but I want to drag her toward me. I want her to disappear, but there’s part of me that needs her to be around. I don’t want her in my life anymore but, at the same time, I can’t just walk away. It’s impossible. No matter how many times I try, I always end up craving her.
Is this what you wanted, Kyle? I wonder. I wonder what was going through my friend’s head when he gave Jessica my address. Not that I mind; I would have had to give it to her soon, anyway, so she could bring Owen around sometimes.
“I want you,” I whisper in her ear.
“Fuck, Grant, I need you,” she groans, her back arching.
It’s taking all the control I have not to just unzip my pants and take her right now. Her legs are twitching, and I can see the glistening moisture between her legs. She’s been ready for me for some time now, and she wants me badly enough that she doesn’t even care that I’m still dressed.
But a promise is a promise. I pull back and kneel beside the couch. Confused, Jessica’s eyes open and she looks at me. A moment later, though, comprehension hits and her head falls backward once more, already anticipating just how overpowering the sensations that I will be making her feel will be.
“Are you ready?” I ask huskily.
“Yes,” she groans.
I reach out with one hand, sliding it up the smooth skin of her thighs. Then I tangle my fingers in her pubic hair, tracing her quivering entrance as I do. Moisture slicks along my fingers. Her body is begging for me to thrust into her, but I’m not prepared to give her what she wants just yet.
Her body tenses as I slip one finger inside her body. I wait as she slowly relaxes, unable to help her reaction at the sudden intrusion, and then I wiggle the digit further in. I start shallowly thrusting with my hand and her hips jerk as she tries, unsuccessfully, to meet my movements.
“More,” she begs.
“I’ll give you more,” I promise.
I slip another finger into her and she gasps. I move the two fingers back and forth a few times, scissoring them slightly as I do, caressing the inner walls of her body, which shudder at my touch. I can almost feel the waves of pleasure that are rushing through her body. I grin. She’s completely under my spell.
Before she can say anything, I push a third finger into her body. She groans and I push the three fingers in deeply, crooking them slightly to search for her g-spot.
Suddenly, her back arches off the couch, and I know I’ve found it. I pull my fingers back and thrust them hard into her, striking that sweet spot as she chokes on a strangled scream, her legs twitching.
“Please, please, more,” she begs.
I could just keep going, dragging her closer and closer to the edge, but my pants are uncomfortably tight and I need release too. I pull my fingers out of her and drag my shirt over my head before shuffling out of my pants and boxers. Then I scoot in closer to her and her legs fall open even further, inviting me in. I blow a small breeze over her entrance, and her body twitches.
“I’m going to taste you,” I tell her. “Then I’m going to kiss you so you can taste yourself, too.”
I duck in before she can reply, and prod the entrance with my tongue. She groans, deep and guttural, somewhere above me. Then, slowly, I put my mouth on her and suckle lightly, lapping at the gathering moisture there.
She’s gasping and choking, her hands grabbing at the couch beneath her, and, encouraged, I keep going, lifting my hands to hold her hips in place so that she doesn’t move too much. She’s so responsive to my touch, and something in me finds pleasure
in managing to get such a strong reaction out of her. She’s putty under my hands, and no one else has ever or will ever be able to make her feel quite the same way I do.
I suck again, and Jessica cries out, her hips jerking in my hold, her legs twitching badly now. I’ve drawn her so close to the edge, much like she did. She forced me over, though, and then made my body able to respond again. I’m not going to be so kind. I want Jessica to feel every part of what I’m doing to her, and I want her to beg me for release before the end, before I drag her over and under with me.
So I swirl my tongue around one more time and then pull back, licking my lips. Jessica’s body relaxes slightly as it realizes that I’m not trying to pull an orgasm from her anymore, and she blearily opens her eyes as I pull myself up beside her. She barely has time to see me coming toward her before my lips are on hers, my tongue slipping into her mouth and tangling with hers. I hear a moan that’s rising in her throat, and I run my hand up her side, feeling the goosebumps that rise all over her skin as I touch her.
I ravage her mouth and she lies beneath me, gasping and breathing into the kiss, clutching onto my arms as though they are anchors while she’s lost in the storm. I remember how it felt to be swept away in the passion she was giving me. I hope she’s feeling as overwhelmed as I did before. I want her to be dragged so far under that she’ll never forget.
Though, maybe it would be better if she forgot. If she forgot, then she wouldn’t keep coming back to me. Then I would be able to start finally getting over her without her face and her body and her lips and her sinful curves distracting me any time I allow my mind to wander even for a minute.
It’s pleasurable thinking of her in moments like this, when she’s right here with me and I can at least try and forget how angry I am at her. But it’s not so great after, when I remember all the reasons why something like this wasn’t a good idea.
I pause and pull back, panting harshly. Jessica’s eyes are closed, so she doesn’t notice as I straighten. Fuck, what am I doing? I’m still so angry. At her for everything she’s done. At myself for being so damn weak.
I need to get it together. Can I stop this? Should I stop this? Yes, of course I should. It’s whether I can that’s the problem.
I look at Jessica. I see the way she’s spread out in front of me, her body twitching, waiting for my next move. And I know the answer to that one is no, there’s no way I can walk away from this. I’m too weak to resist.
“Grant?” Jessica groans, opening her eyes slightly.
“Come on,” I say, my voice deep. “I promised you a mattress.”
Jessica opens her eyes to blink them hazily, and then a smile spreads on her lips. It’s a beautiful smile, and it makes a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the fiery passion burning between us and everything to do with the relationship we shared three years ago.
The relationship that Jessica has just opened up as a possibility and which I’m ignoring, despite how my mind began whirling from the moment she said it.
But I’m not going to think about it. I’m not going to think about how mad I was when she said those words. I’m not going to tell her how, for a moment, I was tempted to say, “yes, let’s ignore the past and try again.”
No. I don’t need to say that. I don’t even need to think about it, because a relationship between us is not going to happen, especially while she is still keeping her secrets close.
I pull Jessica to her feet. I can’t pull away from her, I can’t stop touching her, so I’ll just focus on this for now and forget everything else. I don’t know what’s going to happen next between us, but I do know that I need to be inside her, I need to feel her body clenching around mine. I’m so hard that it hurts, so I’m going to chase this lustful feeling, no matter how wrong it is right now while I’m this confused and angry.
“Bedroom,” I grunt at Jessica, pulling her along on shaky legs.
“Fuck, yes,” she breathes.
I wonder what she’s thinking about all this. I wonder if she’ll be upset that this happened, or if it will only be me that was so affected. I decide not to think about it anymore. It doesn’t matter, not as we tumble through the door. I push Jessica down on my large bed and she lands on her back, bouncing on the mattress. Her legs, hanging over the edge, immediately spread, and I step between them, reading the clear invitation that she’s giving me. I slowly run my hands up her body, feeling each bend and curve in her skin and my erection presses against her thigh, straining to be inside her as soon as it can.
Jessica’s legs wind around my waist and she locks her ankles at the small of my back, dragging me in. Her hands are on my arms and her nails are scraping my skin as she tries to find a good grip on me. She’s panting heavily, her eyes rolling, feeling my hot, throbbing penis near her entrance as she seeks her own release. Fuck, how is it we can be so physically dependent on one another while we can barely hold a pleasant conversation anymore?
“Fuck, Jessica,” I groan. “This is so hot. I’m going to fuck you so hard. Are you ready for me?”
“Just fuck me already,” Jessica gasps.
I line myself up carefully at her entrance. Last chance to back out, though maybe we are too far gone already. But this is really it. There’s definitely no turning back. I contemplate it for a split second.
Then I decide that I’m so desperate for release that I simply don’t care.
I sink slowly into her body. She tenses and then forcefully relaxes herself, hips jerking slightly as she tries to take more of me in. When I’m fully seated in her, she gasps, her eyes rolling back, and I pause, wanting to give her a moment to adjust to me being in her. When she twitches a moment later, though, I take that as my cue.
I pull myself out slowly. Then, meeting and holding Jessica’s gaze, I thrust back in hard.
There’s no time for going slow. It’s fast and it’s hard, and I piston my hips in and out of her as she cries out, trying desperately to hold on or meet the pace I’ve set. Her body jerks beneath me, and her hips clumsily thrust with mine. The mattress creaks beneath us and the bed shakes as I brace my arms on either side of her body, sweat pouring down her face. I took too much time teasing her and, inadvertently, teasing myself. Neither of us are going to last much longer at all. Already, I can see black spots in my vision.
“Fuck, fuck,” Jessica is chanting, barely able to catch her breath. Her whole body is shaking, and I know she’s very close to the edge. One good shove will be enough to tip her over.
I angle my body and thrust back in. She screams against me, throwing her head back, and I know I’ve found her g-spot. Her inner muscles clench unbearably as her body jerks, and my vision whitens as my orgasm follows hers, her body milking every last drop out of me.
Slowly, the spots clear out and I pant, trying to catch my breath. I pull out of Jessica and she slumps bonelessly on the bed, her own breath catching in her throat. I fall down beside Jessica and stare up at the ceiling.
“Shit,” Jessica finally says.
I can’t help but snort.
“Yeah,” I agree. I pause. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“Yeah,” she says with a nod, repeating my casual attitude. “Sounds good.”
I scoot upwards, catching her elbow to pull her with me. Then I slip under the covers. After a moment of hesitation, Jessica gets into bed too.
It’s probably a mistake, considering how badly this situation is going to get when we discuss it. But I’m too tired to care, and not so much of a jerk that I would deliberately send her out in the rain when she can hardly keep her eyes open.
No, we’re just going to lay here and go to sleep. We can talk about it when we wake up… If, of course, Jessica is still here.
Chapter Eighteen
Jessica
I wake up slowly. My body is aching pleasantly and, for the first time in days, my mind is clear. I hear the sound of heavy breathing beside me, and I turn to see Grant lying beside me on his side, his f
ace peaceful and relaxed in sleep.
It would be easy, I think, to leave the bed and run away. It was what I did on that fateful Friday night that Grant and I came face to face for the first time in three years. This time, the urge is even greater; even in the midst of passion, the agony on Grant’s face had been hard to bear. He both wanted me and hated me, but, like me, he can’t control himself. We simply can’t pull ourselves from this terrible dance that we both know the steps to and cannot halt, no matter what we do.
If I run now, that would be it. There would definitely be no more chances, and I wouldn’t deserve them, no matter how much I begged. I came to Grant last night, asking for a chance, any chance, and I count myself lucky that he even allowed me in the door. If I flee now, then I’ll be ruining all the progress I’ve made.
I wonder, for a moment, if it will be worth it. Maybe a forceful separation is what we both need. No contact other than anything to do with Owen, as Grant originally demanded. It’s what we both wanted, at some point.
But I don’t move.
Because Grant might have been angry with me and himself last night, but there had been desperation in his touch, begging me to stay with him and stop leaving him. Grant deserves more than me constantly running away on him.
So, instead of getting up and searching for my clothes, I snuggle further into the covers instead, daring to shift a little closer. He murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t wake, and I sigh in relief. I’m not ready to face him right now.
On the bedside table, my phone vibrates. I glance at it, wondering who’s messaging me at this time of the morning. Though it isn’t that early, I realize, glancing at the clock to see that it’s around eight-thirty. Slowly, not wanting to disturb Grant, I pick up my phone and check the message.
“You stayed?”
It’s Allison. Of course it’s Allison. As soon as she got up, she would have noticed that I never returned to her place last night. I wonder if she’s pleased about that or not. Then I wonder what Kyle’s thinking.
