All I Want

by J. Daniels

  “Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you? Yes. Y. E—”

  “I know how to fucking spell it.” He interrupts me, keeping one hand between my legs while another cups my breast through my shirt. “Say please.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, glaring at him over my shoulder. A sharp inhale escapes me when he slides my panties to the side, dipping into me before bringing his mouth so close to mine I can practically taste it. A different hand, a different guy, and I wouldn’t be finding myself mouthing the word against his lips.

  But it’s Luke.

  My panties are slid down to my knees, my body bowing over the couch as he shoves my shirt over my head and discards it somewhere. A hand flattens against the small of my back, sliding up my spine, and my body pulses as he grips my shoulder and holds me in place.

  I feel the unmistakable nudge of his cock as he rubs it between my cheeks. Bare.

  “Wait.”

  He freezes, his hand on my shoulder tightening. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Condom.” I strain my neck to look at him, seeing the aversion to my request play on his features. Deep frown lines set in as his amber eyes blaze into mine. I ignore the effect that has on everything below my waist and straighten with a glare. “Spare me your views on wrapping that thing up, Luke. If we’re doing this, you’re wearing one.”

  His chest heaves with an inhale as he steps back, that sexy-as-hell smirk touching his lips. My eyes take in the bulge of his bicep, the ink running down his arm to his hand as he leisurely strokes his cock.

  “If you’re going to stare at me like that, get on your knees and do it. You’ll like that angle better.”

  My eyes meet his with a challenge. “I’m not staring.”

  “Yeah, babe, you are.” His eyes drop to my chest. “Watch. This is what it looks like.”

  I cross my arms blocking his view. “Don’t call me that. And stop pretending your hand feels better than me and go get a condom.”

  His gaze lowers and his tongue grazes over his bottom lip. “If you want me to wear one so bad, go fucking get it yourself.”

  I push off from the couch. “God, you’re such an asshole,” I snarl, stalking past him down the hallway and grabbing the unopened box out of my nightstand drawer.

  I was planning on getting it, thank you very much. There’s no way in hell I’d let Luke be the first to crack open my purchase from twelve months ago. How embarrassing would that be? But he’s definitely wearing one. I don’t care how much he hates it. After last summer, I’m done taking chances and relying solely on my method of birth control. Not even for this one time. This one moment of desperation. Because that’s all this will be.

  I walk back into the living room, halting at the sight of him naked, smugly leaning against the couch. He shifts when I enter, gripping the couch behind him and giving me full view of his heavy cock as it hangs between his legs. It’s no longer hard, but that doesn’t ease the effect it has on me. Not at all.

  I force myself to move and stop in front of him. “Here.”

  He looks down at the condom, then back at me. “What are you waiting for? Put it on.”

  “What?”

  He grabs my hand, gripping the condom between his teeth and tearing the wrapper. “You heard me. You might want to get me hard first, otherwise you’re going to have a helluva time.”

  I tilt my head with a grimace, removing the wrapper and discarding it on the floor. “How would you know? I thought you refused to wear these things?”

  “I refused to wear one with you, and if you’re so fucking adamant about it now, then you’re going to do it.” He grabs my empty hand, forcing it against his cock, holding me there as we both feel him pulse to life. “Get the fuck on with it, already.”

  Every pissy response I have in me vanishes at the feel of him throbbing, begging for this, for more of what we both need. The second he’s fully hard, I roll the condom down his length with frantic fingers, ignoring the shake in my hand and narrowing in on my task. He spins me around, tilting my body to the angle he needs to drive straight into me. His cock lines up, slides over my pussy, and I’m so ready for this my legs begin to tremble.

  I know exactly what this feels like. No matter how bad I wanted to, I never forgot it. But the moment he bottoms out and digs his deft fingers into my skin, I see stars, and the only thing I can remember is how to moan.

  “Oh God,” I cry out as he begins thrusting into me, causing my body to practically fold in half. His hard chest forms to my back, his arm wrapping around my breasts and pulling me up until I’m staring at our reflection in the mirror on the wall. His eyes are there, holding me, as his thrusts become feverish.

  “Fuck, you’re so…” His words are broken up by a strangled groan that catches in his throat. He dips his head, tasting the skin of my neck up to my ear. “Why? Why does it have to be this good?”

  I ignore his words because I don’t have an answer. I wish it didn’t feel like this, but it always has, and I hate knowing it always will.

  Our eyes never break contact as he grinds into me, his one hand massaging my breast as his other splays across my stomach inching lower, lower, until he brushes against my clit and I arch against him.

  “Luke,” I pant, reaching up and raking over his short hair as his tongue slides across the curve of my neck. His lips brush against my cheek and I tense. “Please don’t kiss me.”

  I can’t feel his lips on mine. The slightest brush I felt earlier before I begged for this is all I can take. Sex is usually the most intimate act two people can share, but not with Luke.

  The hesitant yet urgent tilt of his head, the way he sucks my tongue while his hands hold me like I’m delicate… Everything else this man does is deliberate, calculated, but not kissing. That’s where he loses control. Something snaps, breaking his discipline while he steals every memory of any other kiss out of your head. It’s honest and real, and fucking beautiful the way he gives you all of him when he’s always held back. And seeing him lose all restraint like that, allowing you a glimpse at how vulnerable he can be is something I know I can’t survive.

  I never have.

  He eases back, allowing his breath to heat my skin while his eyes search for understanding in my reflection. He must see it, how helpless I feel in his arms. It’s so strikingly obvious to me, as unmistakable as my need to be here. Right fucking here.

  He lunges harder, faster, his pace breaking into a wild frenzy as my lips part with a moan and my head hits his shoulder. This is it. The heat, that sweet fire that I’d die from if it meant feeling like this one more time.

  With him.

  “I’m… oh, God, I’m…”

  He growls against my ear as his hand squeezes my breast. “Faking?”

  “Asshole,” I choke out through a moan, catching his knowing grin before my eyes roll closed. The pleasure barrels through me in waves, pushing me further into his touch as his grip on me tightens. I drop my hand, stopping the slide of his fingers against my clit when I can’t take it anymore. My body falls lax against his as he slows his movements completely before pulling out.

  “Turn around.”

  Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I realize only then that he hasn’t climaxed yet. I steady myself before turning to face him, watching as he tugs the condom off and strokes his cock. A firm hand presses against my shoulder, easing me to my knees, and I go willingly, wrapping my lips around him and letting him hit the back of my throat.

  “Aw fuck, yeah. There’s nothing like your mouth.”

  I let him drop out with a pop. “Not even my pussy?”

  He frowns, rubbing his cock against my lips. “When I can fucking feel it. Now open up.”

  His face tenses as I take him all the way, feeling his hands fist in my hair as I begin moving. He’s on the edge in seconds, his chest heaving as he thrusts into my mouth. He growls through a moan as I run my hands up his body, over his ink, and I watch as his eyes roll closed, head falling forward as the word
“fuck” struggles to escape his lips.

  I swallow three times, licking the length of him before sitting back on my heels. We stare at each other, him still trying to steady his breathing while I struggle to figure out what my next words should be.

  Thanks?

  Let’s not let that happen again?

  Fuck you?

  Max comes into the living room and ends all awkward silence with his clanging ID tags. I scramble to my feet, covering myself as Luke grabs his boxers and slips them on.

  “That was—”

  “I’m going to bed.” My words cut his off, and he blinks heavily before he turns away from me, picking up his shorts and stepping into them. “Sorry, what?”

  He shakes his head, grabbing his T-shirt and shrugging it on. “Nothing. Come on, Max. Let’s go outside.”

  I watch the two of them stalk toward the door as my brain tries to figure out what I interrupted. That was… fun? A mistake? Both?

  Luke opens the door, snapping his fingers and getting Max’s attention. They both walk outside, and I wait, hopeful, for another look from Luke before the door closes, but I don’t get one.

  I just slept with the guy I’ve spent the last year trying to forget.

  Tessa Kelly, you are an idiot.

  “God, you’re a fucking idiot.”

  I run my hands down my face as Max sniffs around the small lawn in front of Tessa’s apartment building. A year, twelve fucking months of trying to dull out my obsession and I go and do the worst possible thing I could do right now. The feel of her pulsing around me as I proved exactly what I knew I could do to her body is staying with me like a phantom limb, causing me to sport a semi even after I’ve had relief.

  No, not even relief. A blow-job from Tessa is way the hell more than that. I can give myself relief. What she gives me? There’s not a damn word invented yet to sum that experience up.

  She faked it? Fuck that. I wasn’t about to let her try and deny everything I gave her. If she needed to be reminded of what I could do to her, then I’d suffer the consequences and let her come all over my fingers just to prove a point.

  But the moment she said she needed more, I should’ve stopped. Protested. Fucking ran out of the room and locked myself in another. I knew exactly how this would play out. I knew I’d be completely screwing myself by satisfying the incessant need I’ve done a shit job at ignoring. But did that stop me? Did the thought of being more strung-out on her prevent me from acting on every impulse I had?

  No. My cock saw an opportunity, and he took it.

  Even with a condom, she’s still perfection, and that’s seriously fucking with me right now. Things would be a lot easier if the sex I just had was anything other than phenomenal, but I apparently forgot a few things about Tessa that I was quickly made aware of the moment I slid inside her.

  One: Her tight, warm, unfairly flawless pussy will always hug my dick better than any other, and I’m a stupid motherfucker for thinking a condom would change that.

  And two: She’s vulnerable in my arms, stripped of that rough exterior of hers that drives me completely wild, and that shit wrecks me. The look on her face, the sounds she gives me, the trust in her eyes as I take everything from her, reminding her how fucking good this is—nothing comes close to seeing that. It’s honest and raw and fucking real.

  This is the side of her I’ll never stand a chance against. The side that has me saying shit I don’t want her to know. Or almost saying it, until she interrupts me.

  “Max, come on.”

  I follow behind him as he darts up the stairs to her level. He scratches on the door, pushing it open after a few thuds of his paw. I close and lock it the best I can, turning to see him go running down the hallway toward the bedroom.

  “Fucking traitor,” I scoff under my breath, pulling my T-shirt off and grabbing my phone and charger out of my duffle.

  I plug them into the nearest outlet before collapsing on the couch, wincing as the metal frame digs into my back. I punch the pillow under my head three times, trying to make it somewhat useable, but it’s uncomfortable as hell. As is the couch. I turn on my side, my back, my other side, trying to find some angle that will allow me at least a few hours of sleep. I roll onto my stomach, only to find that position completely out of the question. My cock knows what’s in the other room, and he also knows exactly what she wears to bed.

  And I know just how comfortable that bed is, which is the only reason I’m walking down the hallway right now. Nothing else.

  I stop in her doorway and take in the sight of her, illuminated by the hallway light. She’s sprawled out like I’m used to seeing, tangled in the covers with her wild hair fanned out around her. I’ve never seen someone take up as much room as Tessa does in a bed. It doesn’t seem possible, not with how tiny she is, but she does it, stretching her body like a damn starfish and looking way too sexy doing it.

  She snores. She moves around constantly. She steals the comforter and talks in her sleep. Nothing about sharing a bed with her should be appealing, and if this were any other woman, I’d be waking up with the worst cramp after the shittiest night’s sleep on the couch.

  But this is Tessa.

  Max lifts his head from where he’s laying at the foot of the bed, stares at me for a few seconds, and resumes his position once he’s done judging me for standing here right now.

  Fuck you. You’re just as bad.

  I shift Tessa’s cocooned body over so she’s more on one side than both, and slide into bed, lying on my side and facing the window. The mattress shifts behind me, her breathing changes, and I wait for what I know is coming.

  Tessa was always a talker in bed, with or without my cock involved.

  “Luke?”

  I close my eyes. “Yeah?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? Your couch sucks.”

  She yawns, moaning softly at the end of it. My dick twitches.

  “No it doesn’t. My couch is very comfortable.”

  I fold the pillow over to boost my head up. “Then you go sleep on it.”

  “You can’t seriously think sleeping in my bed is a good idea. Especially after what happened tonight.”

  “Tessa, roll over and go the fuck to sleep.”

  The mattress shifts again, she sighs heavily, and I feel the covers being pulled off me slowly. I grab them to keep a decent amount, which barely drapes over my hip.

  “I need more covers,” she says as she struggles to pull them.

  My grip tightens. “You have most of them. Jesus fucking Christ. If you’re that cold, put a damn hoodie on or something.”

  “I’m not cold. I’m naked.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, dropping my hand to my dick to keep it from reacting. “What?” I ask, my voice tense and edgy. Goddamn it. Why does she have to wrap up in her blankets like a damn burrito? Who the fuck sleeps like that? If I had known she was naked in here, I wouldn’t have walked in.

  Yeah, okay, Luke. Keep telling yourself that.

  She laughs, moving around behind me. “Naked. You know, without clothes.”

  “Why the hell are you naked? You always sleep in those tiny shorts that barely cover your ass and a tank top.”

  “You were the one who removed my clothes, remember? I was too tired to put anything on, and I wasn’t expecting anyone to get in bed with me. If you have a problem with it, there’s a couch with your name on it.”

  I exhale loudly, scooting as far to the edge of the bed as I can. “Seriously, put something on, Tessa.”

  “Seriously, get the fuck out, Luke. I’m not changing because you have a problem with sleeping on my couch.”

  I grab my tiny bit of covers and yank as hard as I can, hearing her yelp behind me. “If you want more to cover up with, go put clothes on. You’re not hogging all the damn covers.”

  She moves behind me, sighing heavily after she settles. “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Silence s
urrounds us, but only for a few seconds. She grunts, shifts, and grunts again.

  “Tessa,” I warn.

  “What?” she asks with a heated tone.

  “Stop moving around and go to sleep.”

  “My neck hurts. I can’t get comfortable.”

  My eyes flash open as I picture the marks on her neck, the faint bruising I saw when she was on the floor, panicked and shaken up. They aren’t strongly visible, but they’re definitely there.

  I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. “Do you want some Advil or something? It’ll probably help with the pain.”

  She doesn’t respond and I turn my head, catching her wide eyes on me as she lies on her side, the covers pulled up to her neck. I swallow, struggling with the strongest urge I’ve ever had in me—one that demands I comfort her right now.

  Just pull her into your arms and tell her it’ll be okay.

  “I was so scared,” she finally says, her voice soft and guarded. Her gaze lowers to the space between us on the bed as I feel that familiar weight lay heavy on my chest. “What made you come here tonight? I mean, I know you didn’t like the guy, but I heard your voice when you were trying to get in. You must’ve known something.”

  You. You made me come here.

  I avert my gaze to the ceiling again. “I saw his license plate before he left the bonfire. Asshole was parked right in front of me.”

  “So, what? You used that to look him up?”

  I nod. “I had a feeling that piece-of-shit was hiding something. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I just felt it. So when I got his plate number, I used that to search for him in our database. He had domestic charges filed against him, but they were dropped. Usually when that happens, the person who filed them is being threatened or doesn’t want to make things worse for themselves. I’ve never had it be because the charges weren’t valid. As soon as I saw his record, I came straight here.”