All I Want

by J. Daniels

  I shift us so my back is against the seat and she’s straddling my waist. The towel is discarded, along with her bra, and she scratches along my scalp the second my tongue slides over her nipple. She whimpers when I bite down, and I smile against her skin, brushing my nose against her other breast.

  “Luke,” she says, breathlessly, sliding her hands down to my shoulders and fisting the material of my shirt.

  I move, allowing her to pull my shirt over my head. Then her lips are on me, frantic, greedy, and tasting as much of my skin as she can before settling over the tattoo on my chest. I look down, watching as she traces over the letter with her tongue, catching the smirk on the corner of her lips before they press against me.

  “Fuck,” I groan as she palms my cock.

  I fist the material of her panties and pull, her gasp mixing with the loud rip I create.

  “Put your weight on your knees,” I order as I pop the button on my jeans. She hovers over me, and I slide my pants and boxers down before grabbing her waist with one hand and the base of my cock with the other. I rub the head against her clit, sliding into her wetness.

  “Oh my God, yes,” she purrs.

  She looks down between us, tilting her pelvis, rocking into me. Her lips brush against mine, giving me her moans. “Condom?” she asks, releasing my bottom lip from between her teeth.

  I tighten my grip on her waist and hold her still. “Shit. Stop moving.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m two seconds away from driving straight into you.”

  She groans, wiggles forward, and teases me again. “You started it.”

  “Tessa, I’m fucking serious. I don’t have any condoms.”

  Her head tilts back, lips parting with a moan as she grinds against me, making this more unbearable than satisfying.

  What the fuck? Is she trying to kill me?

  “Tessa.” I warn, gritting my teeth. “I swear to Christ. You can’t…”

  “Do you want to stop?” she asks, her voice husky and teetering on the edge of playful. Like she knows she has me by the balls here, or more accurately, the cock.

  Her chest brushes up against mine and I feel my hold on her loosening in position, sliding up her back. Giving in to this torment.

  “I don’t want to stop, Luke.” Her lips press to my ear, and the moment she flattens her chest against mine, I feel the wild beating of her heart. Like she just ran a mile to get to me. “Please,” she rasps, kissing the skin of my neck. “I wanna feel you. Just pull out, okay?”

  I dig my fingers into her hip, positioning her where I want her, regaining control, ’cause she’s done playing and I’m going to take her how I want to take her.

  I support all her weight, sliding her down my cock, feeling her body surrender as I draw this out. Reminding her what this feels like. I rock her hips into me, moving her in a slow rhythm. Her eyes close when I run my lips over her breast, full and soft, her nipples hardened, begging for my tongue.

  “Mmm, you’re so thick,” she moans, grabbing my head, holding me against her.

  I release her nipple and press my thumb to her lips. “Open. Get it wet.”

  Her lips wrap around my thumb, sucking me, and when she adds her tongue, the slow burn in my groin begins to spread up my spine. I thrust my hips off the seat, and the second her lips open with cry, I drag my thumb down her body and press it against her clit.

  Her head falls back as she softly chants my name, desperately, like she needs me as much as what I’m giving her. I feel her body tense, the familiar pulse of her around me.

  “Coming,” she whispers.

  I ride it out as long as I can before my spine feels as if it’s about to snap. I lift her hips, shifting her back on my thighs, and watch as she takes over rubbing her clit, her eyes focused on my cock as I stroke it against her fingers.

  “Fuckkkk,” I grunt, coming on both our hands, seeing the sated look in her eyes grow hungry as she stares, transfixed, between us. I clean us both off with my T-shirt before she shifts off my lap, falling limp in the seat next to me. Pulling up my jeans, I resituate myself before looking over at her.

  Her eyes are on me, wide and unsure.

  I reach over and grab the towel, wrapping it around her shoulders, feeling her stare as I cover her up completely.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She waits until I look up at her to elaborate, her face tense with guilt. “Last summer…I only thought I was pregnant for a couple of days, but you still had every right to know.”

  “Yeah, I did,” I reply, sounding more resentful than I feel right now.

  She nods at my words, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I think about that day a lot. What I would’ve done different. What I would’ve said. It’s crazy; I couldn’t tell you what that asshole was wearing last night, but I remember everything about that day.” Her eyes lift to mine, and I break the contact, shifting over in my seat and starting up my truck. “Do you think about it?”

  My eyes pinch shut as I grip the back of my neck, debating how honest I want to be right now. I could tell her I think about it all the time, and the longer I go in between seeing her, the more I think about it. I could say I replay every second I had with her that weekend in my head; when I’d fucked her all night and into the morning—how we couldn’t get enough of each other, as if we both knew that it would be the last time. How I’d felt having her in my arms, calm and settled for the first time in my life, and how I’d felt the second she pulled away from me. Like I’d repulsed her; like what we’d had was something I’d made up. The tears in her eyes when she’d told me she hated me, and the ones in mine when I’d sat there, alone, wondering what the hell had happened. Feeling like I was just told I’d never be able to take another breath.

  What the fuck good would that much honestly do? For either one of us?

  I turn to her, one hand on the wheel, the other on my gear shift, and give her the only answer I can.

  “I’m thinking about it right now.”

  She looks at me with understanding before facing forward in her seat.

  Christ. Even that admission seems to rattle something loose in me. I shake my head, clearing out the bullshit I don’t want to think about, and pull out onto the road, driving in the direction I was headed before I stopped.

  “Why were you walking on the side of the road? Where’s your car?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  She sighs heavily, and I catch the annoyed look on her face before I focus on the road, squinting through the sheets of rain.

  “Some asshole ran me off the road up here. I called for a tow but they said it could be a few hours, and I decided walking was safer than sitting in my car.”

  I shake my head. “That was stupid. You could’ve gotten hit.”

  “I could’ve gotten hit in my car, too. I’m barely pulled off.”

  Okay, true, but I’m not agreeing to that. I almost took another way home and would’ve missed her, so her ass should’ve stayed in her car. She would’ve at least had something to protect her.

  “See,” she says, pointing at the window in front of us. “There’s my car. Look how much of it is still on the road.”

  I drive past it, turning up the speed on my windshield wipers when the rain starts to pick up again.

  “Um, aren’t you going to tow me out?”

  “I don’t have my rope in here. I took it out this morning when I had to drop Max off at the vet. His dumbass chews on it if it’s in the back.”

  She laughs, soft and perfect. “Of course he does. Anything to annoy you, right?”

  I ignore that truthful statement, turning off the side road and onto the main strip. “Call the tow company. Tell them to take your car to my house.” I turn my head after she doesn’t respond, not with words or some muffled sound of disapproval.

  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why am I going to your house?”

  I look back at the road. “Because that’s where I’m taking you.”

  �
�Why?”

  “Because I am.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  I scratch the side of my face, thinking back to my words when I brought my duffle to her apartment last night. How I didn’t want to take her to my house and the reason behind it, which seems obsolete right now.

  I open my mouth to give her some vague answer, most likely bullshit, but she interrupts me with a heavy sigh.

  “It’s fine. Whatever. You have better food anyway.” She bends forward and grabs her jeans off the floorboard, tugging out her phone. “Oh crap.” She holds in the button on the side, but the screen stays black.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Here.”

  After Tessa calls the tow company, the rest of the drive is made in silence, or as much silence as being in a vehicle with her allows. She hums softly to herself, some song I know I’ve heard on the radio but can’t place, and only stops when I pull into the driveway. I open the garage door and park my truck, grabbing her wet clothes and my T-shirt off the floorboard and depositing everything into the washing machine after I empty her pockets. I remove the battery out of her cell and set everything on top of the dryer.

  “Your phone should be fine. Just give it a couple of hours before you put the battery back in.”

  After starting the load, I see her waiting for me in front of the door that leads into the house.

  Her body is wrapped up in the towel, which she opens slightly the moment I step in front of her, granting me access. I slide my hands around her waist to her back, pulling her against me.

  She tilts her head up. “Luke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If I come in, I might… actually, I know…” She blinks heavily, struggling to find the words. “I know I’ll…”

  I tilt my head, forming my mouth to hers. “Just come in, Tessa. Don’t overthink it. I want you here.”

  I back her up the steps, opening the door as her tongue slides into my mouth. The towel is dropped somewhere between the living room and kitchen as I wrap her legs around my waist and carry her upstairs.

  “God, I love how you kiss,” she says against my mouth as we reach my bedroom doorway.

  I pin her against the doorframe, swallowing her tiny squeal before taking control of her mouth and fucking owning it. It’s how I’ve always kissed Tessa, only her, and I’d do it for hours right now if the sound of a throat clearing didn’t pull me out of it.

  I look over in the direction of the noise, as does Tessa, both of us panting, caught up, but still able to focus on the person who interrupted us.

  Naked.

  In my bed.

  Where she’s never belonged.

  I glare at the skank I should’ve knocked out hours ago as she lays propped up on her elbow, facing us. She’s topless, covers barely draped over her, a twisted smile in place. I’d be angry if this attempt to seduce Luke wasn’t the perfect blend of desperate and amusing. No guy wants to come home to a botched boob job waiting for him, one that just so happens to be in a very unflattering position. Especially when he’s just spent the last half hour worshipping the fantastic pair that belong to me.

  I wiggle in Luke’s arms, loosening his hold on me so I can slide down to my feet.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?” he asks, stepping into the room and keeping me behind him.

  I try to move next to him, not giving a shit if this chick sees me naked or not, but Luke darts an arm out and pushes me back. I huff loudly, earning myself a warning look over his shoulder. It’s brief, but intimidating nonetheless. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from standing on my toes and exaggerating my stare, wide-eyed and apparently humorous, given the smile that touches his lips before he turns back around.

  “You said you needed to do laundry. I don’t remember hearing anything about you wanting to take a fucking nap. Don’t you have a bed?”

  Her low, obnoxious laugh fills the room. “You know I do, baby. You’ve been in it.”

  Oh, hell no. I was content on staying behind Luke for the time being, mainly because the back of him shirtless is just as insanely attractive as the front, but it looks like this bitch forgot her place, and I have no problem being the one to put her back in it.

  I shove Luke’s arm out of my way and move next to him, not bothering to cover myself up because I really don’t give a shit. Besides, I’m sure she hasn’t seen a pair of real tits in years, and while I’m at it, I might as well make this verbal beat-down educational.

  See this? It’s what a nipple is supposed to look like.

  I hold my hand out, palm up, motioning toward the bed. “You know, we just started a load. Now those STD-riddled sheets are going to have to wait at least an hour before they can be disinfected.” I sweep my gaze down her body, grimacing. “Heavy disinfected. And, honestly, I’m not even sure bleach can handle this situation.”

  “Do you ever get tired of running your mouth?” she asks.

  I flatten my hand to my chest. “Me? No, I never get tired of anything involving my mouth.” I hitch a thumb toward Luke. “Neither does he.”

  “Tessa,” Luke warns.

  I shrug, gathering my hair over one shoulder and twirling pieces of it. “What? You don’t.”

  He gathers the clothes off the floor and tosses them onto the bed. “Get dressed and get the fuck out of my house. And next time your washer goes up, go to the Laundromat, or buy a new one. Don’t ask to come over here again.”

  She sits up, shock setting into her features and tightening the lines of each and every one of her wrinkles. “What? But I thought…”

  He points his finger at her. “You thought what? That I’d come home, find you in my bed, and actually consider fucking you again? Even if she wasn’t here—” He gestures toward me with a nod, “—your ass would’ve been thrown out. I told you, I’m not interested. The only reason why I even looked at you before was because I needed a distraction. From her.” He turns his head, locking eyes with me, and I feel my mouth go dry.

  I blink several times; in fact, that’s the only thing I can seem to do at the moment. He stares at me for what feels like minutes instead of seconds, keeping himself perfectly still while I feel the hand submerged in my hair begin to tremble.

  “I don’t want any more distractions,” he states, standing up a bit taller.

  Whoa.

  I try to swallow, to produce any amount of saliva, but my tongue suddenly feels as if it has doubled in size. His forehead creases, just below his hairline, like he’s studying my reaction to what he’s just said. I’m not sure what he’s seeing, but I feel like I probably look completely mental right now. I know I’m not moving, I’m barely breathing, and I’m naked. Very naked. I hear movement in the room, covers shuffling, some low, muffled noises, but I can’t peel my eyes off Luke. Not while he’s looking at me like that.

  “Move.”

  He shifts over, allowing Jolene to push past him and continue in my direction. She knocks purposely into my shoulder, meaningful scowl in place, before exiting the room with an exaggerated grunt.

  I flatten my back against the door as Luke eliminates the space between us with two long strides. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna make sure she leaves.”

  I drop my head into a partial nod. “’Kay.”

  ‘Kay? I can’t even manage to put an “o” in front of that? Has the ability to pronounce a simple vowel escaped me?

  He places a gentle hand on my arm, just above my elbow, squeezes, and slips out of the bedroom, leaving my hopeless vocabulary and me alone.

  I shake my hands at my sides, blowing out a quick breath.

  Christ. Get your shit together, Tessa. It’s not like he dropped the L bomb. He simply looked at you with unashamed honesty, and confessed… what? That he’s doesn’t want to get his mind off me anymore? That he’s done hooking up with other women? Or did he just mean he doesn’t want to have sex with Jolene again?

  I let my head fall into my hands with a heavy sigh.

  Shit. You’re overt
hinking things. Knock it off.

  I walk over to Luke’s dresser, grabbing a pair of boxer briefs and one of his worn T-shirts to slip into. As I’m popping my head through the top, I spot a glass container sitting next to his bedside lamp, full of guitar picks. I sit on the bed with it, holding it up and staring at the contents. I don’t remember ever seeing this in Luke’s room before, but most of the picks in the jar look used. The logos are faded, the designs barely visible, and some of them are even chipped along the edges. As I’m fishing through the jar, letting the picks clink against the glass, something else catches my attention.

  A guitar case, black and covered in stickers, is leaning against the wall in the corner. I place the jar down and move across the room, crouching down to examine it. The stickers on the case are peeling off, and I run my finger over the edge of one, pressing it down to try and reattach it. My curiosity becomes too much to ignore, and I lay the case down and pop the snaps, flipping the lid back.

  “What are you doing?”

  The unexpected sound of Luke’s voice sends me falling back onto my ass, striking my upper back against corner of the dresser. “Ow. Son of a bitch.”

  “You okay?”

  I reach back and rub my shoulder, looking up at him just as he takes a bite of something he’s holding between his thumb and finger. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I push to my feet and glance between the open case and him. “Do you play the guitar?”

  He shakes his head, takes a few steps toward me, and kicks the case closed. “No. Here, they dropped your car off.”

  I take the keys and set them on his nightstand next to the jar of picks. “Why do you have all these, then? Do you like collecting them or something?” I turn my head when he doesn’t answer, just in time to see him pop the last bite of a cookie-dough square into his mouth. His attention is on my outfit, with raised brows and a brazen smile twisting across his lips.

  “Luke.”

  “Babe,” he replies after swallowing his bite.