by K. Webster
“Honey, we all fuck up. It’s a part of life. I’m sure whatever it is can be fixed. Come inside so we can talk about it,” I instruct and begin to pull away.
He squeezes me tighter to him, almost to the point where I have trouble breathing. Finally, though, he releases his grip and kisses the top of my head. But his kisses, unlike Trent’s, are reverent and alive.
Taking hold of his hand, I guide him into my apartment and lock it up behind me. All the lights are off, so I guide him to my room, where the light is still on. He pauses briefly to glance over toward the kitchen but then allows me to pull him into my bedroom. When we reach the bed, I let go of his hand and he kicks off his shoes before climbing onto it. Falling face-first onto my pillow, he lies quietly for a minute. Then I drop the robe, following him, and sit with my legs crossed behind him on the bed. Gently at first, I begin massaging circles on his back, starting at his shoulders. He groans appreciatively and doesn’t stop me as I try to get the kinks out.
What is going on inside that head of his? When we first met, and even last night, he was stronger. But tonight? Tonight, he’s off.
“Take your shirt off,” I instruct so I can better massage him.
Without question, he sits up on his knees and pulls off his T-shirt, revealing his sculpted, tattooed body. I refrain from licking my lips, saved from the embarrassment of my ogling as he lies facedown again. Straddling his firm ass, I reach over to the nightstand and pour some of my lotion onto my hands. Starting along the spine, I slide my palms upwards, pressing deep along the way.
“Damn,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow.
I continue to work him over, focusing on tight areas and places that make him moan. As I rub him, I take my time inspecting his tattoos that color his back. He has a tribal tattoo intricately done on one shoulder blade. I’ve learned exactly what it looks like now that I’ve been massaging him for a bit.
“Talk to me, Thad,” I urge as I press my fingers into the back of his neck.
He’s quiet for a moment before he turns his head to the side. “I have issues, O. My childhood was unconventional, and I think I’m missing something in my genetic makeup that keeps me from doing stupid shit. I want to stay on the straight and narrow, but I honestly don’t know how. My mother has always enjoyed playing her head games. Up until two months ago, my life had been spiraling out of control and I was on a path of self-destruction. Xanax and Jack were my best friends. One day, I’d had enough and checked into a rehab facility. The day we met was my first day back,” he confides.
Stopping my massage, I congratulate him. “Thad, that’s amazing though. You’re two months sober. I’m so proud of you.”
When he tenses beneath me, I suddenly realize he isn’t finished.
“Tonight, I slipped up, O. Given the opportunity to drink, I took it. I downed an entire glass of liquor. I’m ruined. I’ll never be able to fix the way I am.” He sounds so melancholy and full of self-loathing. It breaks my heart for him.
Gently slapping his back, I clear my throat. “You’re not ruined. Now roll over. I’ll do your chest.” Rising to my knees, I watch him flip to his back underneath me.
His sad eyes meet mine while I massage the contours of his chest. He closes his eyes about the same time that I feel his erection between us. I try to focus on the muscles that need to be kneaded and not grind myself against his dick. My hands slip over his hard pectorals to his collarbone. Then I bring them up the sides of his neck to thumb the prickly edges of his jaw. All of a sudden, his eyes fly open and his hands grip my wrists, startling me.
Now that I’m snared in his grasp, I stare down at him and inspect him closely. He’s beautiful in every sense of the word. It’s a challenge not to seize his lips with my own, but I promised him and myself friendship. Too bad his cock didn’t get the message, because it is hardened to full mast between my legs now and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to ride it.
“You’re not ruined, Thad,” I remind him again. My heart sinks when he closes his eyes—I can see that he doesn’t believe me.
He still has a death grip on my wrists. It’s as if he thinks that, if he lets go, I’ll bail on him too. I fucking hate his family for not being here when he needs them most.
“You make mistakes, just like I do. We’re not perfect but that’s okay. I could use a friend like you and I think you could use a friend like me as well,” I tell him.
His eyes fly open and green orbs glare back at me. The intense stare he’s giving me should scare me, but it turns me on instead. In a move that surprises me, he rolls us over until I’m underneath him, my wrists still in his grasp.
“I fucking hate that word, O,” he growls and brings his nose to mine. I can smell the liquor on his breath, and I briefly wonder if I would be able to taste it on his tongue. “Admit you hate it too.”
I do hate that word.
I’m suddenly hyperaware of all of my senses. His scent, the lingering smell of liquor mixed with soap, floods my nostrils and does things to my insides. My panties are growing wetter by the second as his cock nestles perfectly against my sweet spot through our clothes.
“I don’t want to be your friend, O.”
My clamp my eyes shut at his words. After the way he murmured that last sentence, I let go of any shred of sanity. Then he finally releases my hands and threads them in my hair. I can feel his hot breath against my lips, and I whimper with need for his touch.
He’s giving me an out. Do I give in or break the rules I’ve set for myself? I slide my hands over his shoulders and link my fingers together to bring his head the last little bit to my lips.
“I don’t want to be your friend either,” I breathe.
And once again, the line has been crossed.
When my lips meet hers, the electric buzz that always flows when I am around Opal sparks to life. In an instant, our mouths are open and devouring one another. Right away, I notice she tastes like toothpaste and her—so fucking delicious. With a moan, she slides her hands into my hair and with each desperate kiss she tugs at my thick locks. My dick presses against her pussy, and this time, she digs her heels into my ass to better grind herself into me.
“I need to be inside you. Now,” I murmur against her lips and then suck on her bottom one.
I find the edge of her nightshirt and slide my hand under the material until I locate her bare breast. Then I tease her nipple between my thumb and finger until it’s nice and aroused. Moving my lips away from hers, I skim down her body and push her shirt up over her tits so I can view them properly. Leaning down, I take one into my mouth and suck reverently. Her mounds are the perfect size and shape—I could spend hours worshipping them. As I nibble at the flesh around her nipple, she nearly lifts off the bed as she whimpers my name.
“You like it when I bite you, O?” I question, slightly amused. For a good girl, she sure seems naughty.
Instead of answering me, she arches her back, which thrusts her tits in my face. I dip down again and tease her skin with my teeth. When she slips her hand down into her pajama bottoms, I groan because she’s so fucking turned on. I nip her flesh once more, this time harder. Her fingers are rapidly going to town between her legs. Another nibble, this time on her other breast, causes her to convulse with her climax beneath me.
“Thad,” she pants and softly cups my face with her free hand. “Take me.”
Within seconds, I’m off the bed, yanking my jeans and boxers down. After pulling a condom from my wallet, I slide it on my throbbing cock, which is dying to be inside her. I wait impatiently as she pulls off her shirt but still has her bottoms on.
“These have to fucking go,” I inform her as I grab the top and jerk them down her legs, tossing them to the floor.
As I climb on top of her, I behold the sight before me. She looks like a swirl of dark chocolate in a sea of vanilla that is her cream-colored comforter. When she spreads her legs for me, my cock rises impossibly higher. As much as I want to plunge it into h
er sweet pussy, I have the need to taste her first.
Her eyes widen when she sees what I’m about to do. “Thad, you don’t have to. Nobody’s ever—”
But before she can finish her sentence, I’m between her legs and spreading her pussy open with my thumbs. When I drag my tongue up her clit, which smells of lavender and tastes so fucking sweet, she attempts to scramble away from me.
“O, baby, you’re going to love this,” I promise and clutch her hips, dragging her back to my mouth.
This time, I attack her sweet nub with my tongue in a series of swirls and flicks that have her moaning in pleasure. I can tell she’s getting close to climaxing again, so I slip a finger inside her while I give her clit a good suck.
She’s overcome with trembles as another orgasm courses through her. Her tight pussy clenches around my finger as she rides it out, and I pull away to look up at her. Both of her hands are fondling her breasts and her head is tossed back. This girl—damn! She looks so fucking hot in the throes of passion. With a horny groan, I sit up on my knees and prepare to bang the shit out of this sexy-ass woman. Since her juices are still running out of her body, I wet the tip of my cock with her arousal and slowly push myself into her. Her heat instantly devours my dick and I want to come badly by the way her cunt constricts the hell out of me.
I ease myself down so that my chest presses against hers and then take her mouth once again with mine. Thrusting slowly into her, I enjoy being with her like this—her wanting me and being unrushed. Her pussy hugs my cock and we fuck like one well-oiled machine. I slide a hand under her head and pull her even closer to me. Not only have I wanted this woman like this for days, but I need to be with her. I was about to lose my mind after I stupidly downed that glass of alcohol. But the moment I touched Opal in the hallway, my worries and fears melted away.
“God, this feels—” she cries out but is cut off by my kisses.
I devour her, tasting every inch of her mouth and lips. Her hands find their way back up into my hair and she grips tight. I know I’m close to coming soon, and the moment I feel her come undone beneath me, I lose my load.
“Shit, O. You’re a goddamned dream,” I praise against her lips. After several more seconds of pumping into her, I roll us to our side so I don’t smash her and pull her close to me.
“I can’t believe you kissed me. You know, after,” she confesses, wide-eyed. The innocent look on her face causes a chuckle to rumble in my chest.
“You taste sweet like honey. I wanted you to taste yourself. Did you not like it?” I inquire, quirking up an eyebrow.
A devilish grin turns the corners of her mouth up. “It was surprisingly hot,” she admits.
“I’m glad you approve. I can’t wait to show you a few more tricks, pretty girl.”
She smiles broadly at me and bats her eyelashes, seemingly embarrassed by my words. I’m not sure if it’s the prospect of doing naughty things or the fact I called her “pretty girl.”
Testing my theory, I stroke her cheek and look into her eyes. “You’re beautiful, O—like, drop-dead gorgeous. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. Your body may sparkle with your glittery lotion shit, which I hope to God isn’t what you massaged me with.” I pause as she giggles. “But your heart fucking shines. I may not have known you for very long, but I do know that you wear your heart on your sleeve for all to see. You’re kind, loyal, and caring. I’m lucky as fuck to have you in my arms right now.”
Her grin falls to a frown as she strokes my back. “Thad, we’re lucky. Not just you. You have shown me more affection and attention than any other man I’ve been with. It feels nice—to be treasured for once in my life.”
We sit quietly for some time, staring at each other in comfortable silence. Finally, I voice what’s worried me this entire time.
“What if I just royally fucked myself, O?” I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration.
She places a slender hand on my cheek and strokes it with her thumb. “Why do you think you fucked yourself? Because of the drink?”
I nod my head shamefully before opening my eyes back up to her compassionate, brown ones. “I can’t go back to the person I was. There’s no way. No fucking way. I want to do right. I have something good going on with my boss, Griff, and I have something great going on with you. I can’t fuck it up, O.”
“Shh, Thad. You’re not going to fuck it up. I’ll help you. We’ll get through it together. I promise,” she assures me and presses her lips to mine.
This woman has crawled into my heart and camped out. I hope to God she’s as serious about me as I am about her.
I smile before deepening our kiss. “Let’s do this.”
The horror of last night’s relapse was replaced by the perfection that is Opal. The moment this woman opened her apartment door last night, I felt the stress of the night lift. She has a way of dragging my dark thoughts to her light. I crave that light. We spent the entire night learning each other’s bodies and talking about our childhoods. She, too, has a mother who bleeds icicles.
“Sir, what do you think about the paint color in the front room? I think it looks pretty badass.” Manuel whistles as he comes into kitchen where I’m sanding the cabinets.
I could have hired this part out, but I love doing detailed woodwork when I can. Standing, I dust off my jeans and walk into the room to have a look. Things are quickly coming together, but when I see the color of the living room, I frown. What was supposed to be taupe looks purple.
“Shit, dude,” I groan and rest my hands on my hips.
He looks around at his crew with confusion written all over his face. “You don’t like it?”
I don’t just not like it; I fucking hate it. “No, and it’s my fault, Manuel. I need to rethink the color scheme. Have them just prime everything white for now until I can decide what we should do. How’s it coming with the tile in the bathrooms?”
We spend the next few minutes going over the plans until the smell of Mexican takeout fills the space.
“Shit! Manuel, I have to jet. I almost forgot about my appointment. I’ll see you guys later.” I slap him on the shoulder and hurry out of the townhouse to Dad’s Harley.
Minutes later, I’m cruising through traffic, heading toward my destination. When I find a spot in the garage, I’m nearly knocked over by some dickhead in a suit.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” I snap as he storms past me.
He grumbles a, “Fuck you,” but I ignore him and step onto the elevator. The ride to the third floor is short. When I step into the lobby of the office area, a nice, older woman with her hair in a bun greets me.
“Are you Mr. Sutton?” she chirps.
I smile at her and nod.
“Nice to have you. Dr. Sweeney is just finishing up with someone and then he’ll see you. Just complete this paperwork while you wait,” she instructs. Her phone rings and she launches into a lengthy conversation, so I sit down to fill out the documents.
“Thank you, Dr. Sweeney,” a female voice sniffles as the woman closes the office door behind her. She’s a pretty one, probably one of Trent’s types—long, blond hair, dressed to the nines in a suit, and mile-long legs. One would say she is beautiful—I’d say she’s a sad woman harboring things that are ripping out her heart.
I watch her walk to the elevator, and with shaky hands, she presses the down button. Her purse slips from her clutches, slamming to the floor, sending contents flying across the marble. The receptionist gasps, but she is tied up on the phone, so I set the clipboard down and stride over to help the woman, who is now crying as she scrambles to scoop up her belongings.
I kneel down beside her and touch her shoulder. “Calm down. Let me help you.”
She nods as tears stream down her face. I retrieve all of her things that have scattered all over the lobby floor and bring them to her so she can put them back in her purse. My hand hesitates when I go to give her back a bottle of antidepressants. She eyes me with interest, noting m
y hesitation, but doesn’t say anything. Then I quickly hand them over to her and throw her one of my winning lopsided grins.
“Everything’s going to be okay, ma’am,” I assure her as we both stand.
In a movement that surprises me, she hugs me. “The name’s Andi. And it’s going to be okay for you too.” She smiles at me knowingly.
“Thad. And I sure hope you’re right,” I reply as she releases me.
I flinch when she squeals and take a step away from the woman because she’s quite possibly crazy.
“Thad? As in Thad In My Pants?” she questions with a huge grin.
It takes a moment for her words to register before I smile back at her. “You know O?”
“Oh my God!” She bounces up and down in her high heels. Yep, definitely on the nutty side. “You have a nickname for her. That’s, like, the cutest thing ever! And you’re so hot! No wonder she gets all flustered when she talks about you.”
I chuckle at the thought of Opal being so affected by me. “I really like her, Andi,” I confess, the corners of my mouth still upturned in a smile.
She launches at me again and knocks the breath out of me with one of her surprisingly strong hugs for such a slight woman. “I know! And this is great news. She’s been pining after your oblivious brother for way too long. My girl deserves someone who sees her for the amazing person she is!”
As I hear the elevator doors open, I look over Andi’s head and find the asshole from the parking garage.
“Are you quite done hugging my wife, motherfucker?” he growls at me, squaring his shoulders.
Andi jerks herself away from me and twirls around to face him. “Jackson Compton! For crying out loud! This is Trent’s brother, Thad, you big caveman!” she snaps at him.
He’s still glaring at me, so I cross my arms across my chest and smirk at him. “Someone had to comfort her since you left your own wife crying in the lobby while you were acting like a whiny-ass bitch.”
My taunt successfully pushes its intended button, because he struggles to get to me. Poor Andi now has him in a bear hug, preventing him from kicking my ass.
