by Alex Grayson
Just as we find a clear spot, the song changes to a slow one. My arms go around his shoulders, and his go around my waist with his hands on my ass. I’m hauled up against him, and I immediately feel the hard ridge in his pants.
I smirk up at him. “Why, stud. I do believe you’re happy to see me.”
He leans down and nips my bottom lip. “I’m always happy to see you. But you know this already.”
I nod and grin. “I do.”
My fingers fiddle with the hair at the back of his head as Tegan slowly moves us to the beat of the slow song. Each movement of our hips rubs my stomach against his hardness. He digs his hands into my ass he and starts to slowly grind his thigh between my legs. A moan slips free, and his lips quirk up.
“You are sooo mean,” I whimper, then drop my forehead against his sternum.
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head.
We continue dancing until the song ends and a new one starts. My body is vibrating from all the stimulation from his thigh. Air breathes on the back of my legs when he slips my skirt up higher. I lift my head and look up at him. The desire blazing in his eyes fuels my need even more.
I turn in his arms so my back faces him. His arms go back around my waist and one of his hands slips underneath the bottom of my shirt, while the other grips my thigh. I turn my head, tilt it up, and kiss the side of his neck. His cock digs into my ass, and I push back against him more. His groan is deep and satisfying. We sway back and forth, lost in our own world of sensuality.
Tegan lifts my skirt again several inches. It’s a knee-length flowy skirt, so I’m still decently covered. My stomach quivers when he works circles against the bare skin he exposes. I lean back against him more, since my legs are as weak as Jell-O.
When the song changes again, I lift my head and open my eyes. They lock on Nathan drinking his beer, once again watching us. It’s just like the first night we were here. Shivers race down my spine. While the memories of that night still send moisture to my panties, the thought of doing it again doesn’t appeal to me as much as it did the first time. I’m not saying I’d never want to try have sex with Tegan with Nathan in the room, but not at this point in our relationship. Tegan showing me off to Nathan here is still highly arousing, even if I do work for him and have to see him on a daily basis, but I don’t think I want to go as far as last time. I think the embarrassment of that would be too much for me to overcome when Monday morning rolled around.
“You’re perfect for me, you know that?” Tegan whispers the question.
I pull my eyes away from Nathan and tip my head back so I can look at Tegan. “Why’s that?”
“Because you like showing off just as much as I like showing you off,” he answers.
Even in the dim light, I’m sure Tegan can see my blush.
He confirms this when he chuckles and says, “And yet she still blushes.”
“As much as it turns me on, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”
It’s the truth. I love that being with Tegan allows me to be so comfortable I lose my inhibitions, but I’ll never get used to others watching us. Which is a good thing. That means it’ll never get boring. I almost laugh at that. I can’t ever imagine anything would ever get boring with Tegan.
Tegan’s hand lifts my skirt another inch, then his hand disappears underneath the slinky material. I barely stifle the cry of pleasure when his fingers meet my moist center.
“Are you wet for me or because Nathan’s watching?” he asks, grazing a finger over my swollen clit.
“You,” I moan.
“But you still like him watching.” It’s not a question, but a statement. He knows me too well.
I answer him anyway. “Yes.”
“He’s not touching you again. No man but me is ever touching your beautiful body again. They can look when I say they can, but that’s it.”
I nod, because that’s all I can do. His fingers are working their magic against my clit, while his other hand has now moved to one of my breasts. He tweaks the nipple hard, sending me closer to the edge. I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out.
“I wanna lift your skirt right here and fuck you so everyone can watch. So everyone will know you’re mine. And you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”
My eyes slide closed with his words. I shouldn’t, but God help me, if he were to do just that, I would let him. I wouldn’t give a damn if the Pope himself was watching.
Tegan’s fingers slide along the edge of my panties, and then he’s dipping them beneath.
“Oh, God,” I breathe.
“So fucking wet, and it’s all for me.”
He pushes one finger inside my wet opening, only to pull it back out and push back in with a second finger. His thumb goes to my clit and applies pressure. With his fingers inside me, he pulls me back against him so tight, his cock nestles between my ass cheeks, adding more fuel to the fire.
Then he does something that has me sailing over the edge and leaves me free-falling. He pulls his hand from beneath my shirt, grabs my chin and turns my head to the side, looks deep in my eyes, and says, “Marry me,” as he thrusts his fingers deep.
The shock, awe, and pleasure of the moment have me crying out, and he drops his head and catches the sound with his lips. My body spasms around his fingers as his lips devour mine. His tongue meets mine halfway and the kiss we share is explosive. Never have I come so hard before.
When he pulls back, I turn in his arms and stare up at him, dislodging his fingers from my body. He lifts them and licks away my release, which sends another round of shivers through me. I push the desire away, trying to figure out if I heard him right.
Did he really just ask me to marry him, or is my mind playing tricks on me?
He starts down at me expectantly, so I blurt out, “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
His grin is lopsided when he answers, “Yes.” He drops his forehead to mine. “I know it’s not the traditional way to ask the woman you love to marry you. I know I probably should have done it in a more romantic place.” He looks up and around us, then back down at me. “But this was the place we became us. This was our starting point.” He pulls something out of his pocket, and I look down. He holds a small black box in his hand in the few inches of space between our chests. He flips it open, and nestled on black velvet is a stunning diamond solitaire ring.
I lift my eyes, fighting back the tears wanting to form. He opens his mouth to say something, but I grab the back of his neck and force his head down, sealing our lips together. He’s right, this definitely isn’t the normal proposal, but it couldn’t have been more perfect. I love that he chose here to do it.
I pull back from him and smile. He cups both of my cheeks and wipes away the few tears that escaped.
“Are these happy tears?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
My grin widens, and I nod vigorously, then say, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”
The worry disappears, and a huge grin takes its place. “It’s that a yes to marrying me? I just want to clarify here before I get too excited.”
I take the ring from the box and slip it onto my finger, then jump. He catches me with his hands on my ass and my legs go around his waist. He groans when my pussy meets his still-hard cock.
“I want to marry you and have babies with you and grow old with you and have grandbabies with you. Does that answer your question?” I tease.
If possible, his grin grows even more. “I’m going to make you so happy.”
“You already do,” I tell him.
“And I’m going to rock your world.”
I giggle. “You already do that too, stud.”
“You haven’t seen nothing yet,” he murmurs, before placing his lips over mine.
Tegan sways us back and forth to the music, with my legs still wrapped around his hips. He grinds me against him and we both groan into each other’s mouths. How I ever got so lucky to find someone as special as Tegan, I’ll never know. He’s definitel
y not the typical guy you date. He likes being naughty, and I like being just as naughty right along with him.
Some people may find our sex life abhorrent and uncouth, but who gives a damn what they think? I love Tegan just the way he is.
I may be slightly biased, but to me, no two people could be more perfect for each other than us.
THE END
Acknowledgements
As always, my first round of thanks goes to God for giving me the courage and ability to do this, put my thoughts down on paper.
Next, my husband and two kids, the three people most affected by my writing. Every day I’m grateful you all understand my need to write. Thank you for being there for me and for also encouraging me. I love y’all with my whole heart!
The Seven Horsemen. You ladies rock so freaking much! Thank you for all the bullshitting we do, for being sounding boards, for all the advice, and for just being my friends. Love you ladies!
The Jaded Angels. Thank you for being a kickass street team!
Jamie, my amazing PA. Thank you for everything you do. You make my life so much easier.
Shauna Kruse and Cody Smith. As soon as I saw this image, I knew it was perfect for my Tegan. Thank you for unknowingly reaching into my mind and producing this amazing image!
Jodi, thank you so much for my stunning cover! I couldn’t have asked for a better result!
Freya, as always, your formatting skills are amazing. Thank you for making the inside shine!
Olivia, I’m so sorry you got stuck editing my books, lol. I can only imagine the frustration you deal with while doing it. But thank you for all your hard work in making my work as close to perfect as possible!
Bloggers! You are a big reason us indie authors are able to do what we do and be successful at it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the hard work you do for us authors.
To the readers! Thank you, thank you for reading my books! Without you, I’d be nothing.
Turn the page for the first chapter of Always Wanting (Consumed: Book One)
Chapter One
Abby
My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they’d be damn near slapping me in the face. The guy behind me—I can’t remember his name at the moment—grunts his way through pounding into my pussy. His hands dig into my hips and sweat drips onto my back. My walls clench around his hard cock, but it still isn’t enough. I need more. My stomach starts cramping and sweat—not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release—forms on my brow.
Fisting the sheets in my hands, I ram my hips back to meet his relentless thrusts. Looking over my shoulder, I growl, “Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me.”
The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it’ll leave a mark later. I don’t care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over.
“Fuck, babe,” he groans. “I fuck you any harder, I’ll plow you into the mattress.”
“Just do it,” I hiss.
“Jesus,” he grunts, but does as he’s told and slams his hip bones into my ass as he pumps into me forcefully.
I straighten my arms when his thrusts push my body forward. A blissful sigh leaves my lips, followed by a low moan when he finally hits the spot I need him to. My fingers start to tingle from lack of circulation, so I unwrap them from the sheet. My body starts to quiver with the first ripple of my orgasm. I close my eyes, and tiny sparks of light shoot behind my lids as the cramps in my stomach turn to flutters of delight. I lower my arms and lay my head against the cool sheets as immense pleasure takes over my body. The guy behind me still pounds away, jerking my hips back to him. I pay him no mind, content to just lay here and let him have at it. I got what I needed from him, it’s only fair that he reaches his peak as well.
Several minutes’ pass before he grunts and stiffens behind me. He releases my hips, and I immediately drop to the bed. He falls down beside me with his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. Now that my brain is functioning properly again, his name comes back to me in a flash.
Matt.
Matt was my lifesaver for the night.
As appreciative as I am of him, I really need him to go now; I don’t like it when they linger. I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don’t let them stay afterwards. I don’t do relationships. I know I’m a bitch—using men for sex and discarding them—but I have a damn good reason.
I roll to my side and get out of bed. I bend with my ass facing Matt to pick up his clothes to toss at him. I lost my modesty a long time ago, and if it wasn’t for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I’d never wear clothes. It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I’m fine, but by the time evening rolls around, the urge grips me tight and leaves me in a near panicked state. I came so close to having an anxiety attack tonight. I thought I would have to call my friend, Nathan, to come rescue me. Luckily, Matt showed up and caught my eye at the perfect time.
And here we are now, an hour later, with him still lying on my bed, and me standing with my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He didn’t take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I’m going to have to be blunter.
I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg. “Hey, it’s time to go.”
His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes. “Can’t you give a guy a minute to recover?” he mutters.
“No. I need you to leave right now,” I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips.
I’m exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I’m treating this guy, but I push it back. I’ve learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I’d have to build a steel wall around myself. I hate being a bitch, but it’s the only way to protect myself. Only a handful of people know the real me.
Matt grumbles as he drags himself from the bed. I ignore him and pull on a cami, sans bra. Using the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my thick blonde hair up into a ponytail as I wait for him to finish. I tap my fingers on the doorframe I’m leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It’s normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they get done, but not this guy. He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s grating on my nerves.
He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I’m just about to turn around and lead him to the door when he boxes me in by planting his hands on the doorframe on either side of me. I inwardly cringe when he leans down, and the smell of whiskey on his breath assaults me. My head hits the door when I lean back to get away from him.
“How about we do this again sometime, sugar?” he drawls, leaning down to rub his lips against mine. They end up on my cheek when I turn my head.
I put my hands on his chest and give him a shove. “I don’t think so.”
“You sure?” he asks, not getting the hint.
“Yep.” I slip under his arm and walk down the hallway. “The door is this way,” I throw over my shoulder, and see he’s following.
Thank goodness.
Opening the door, I stand and wait for him to catch up. Right before he walks through the threshold, he reaches out, snags me around the waist and slams me against his chest. His lips land on mine before I get a chance to turn my head this time. Even though I seal my lips tight, bile rises in my throat. One thing I always avoid with the men I sleep with is kissing. It’s too personal, and intimate.
Right as I’m about to bite his damn lip and knee his balls up to his throat, he pulls back and murmurs, “Your loss,” and then he’s gone. I slam the door behind him and blow out a breath, relieved to finally be alone.
Fuck my life. Sometimes, I really detest my addiction, while other times, I fucking love it.
A knock at the door the next day pulls me from sleep. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I note that it’s almost noo
n. I also notice I have a missed call and text from Ava, one of my best friends.
Ava: Get your ass up.
It’s Saturday. I always sleep in on Saturday. Ava knows this. She also knows I get cranky if I’m woken prematurely.
I pull my pillow over my head when I hear the knock again. I know she won’t go away, but my ass isn’t getting out of this bed to answer the door, either. If it’s important enough, she has her own key and will use it.
Minutes later, my bed dips and the pillow is yanked from my hands. I glare at Ava with an I’m-going-to-kill-you look. Of course she ignores it, just like every other time I give her my best evil glare, and proceeds to snatch the cover off my near naked body. I showered after Matt left last night, and only put on a pair of panties before falling into bed. Ava doesn’t bat an eyelash at my bare tits, and I don’t bother to cover them. She’s seen them before, and I’m sure she’ll see them again.
Ava and I met several years ago in a bar, when some guy was trying to pick her up and wouldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested. She was blunt with the guy, but he was relentless. I could sense the anger rolling off her, and wanting to keep her from blowing up on him, I interrupted their conversation by planting an open mouth kiss on her, right there in front of him. I’m not gay. I’m not even bisexual, although, I’ve had a few experiences with the same sex, but even that kiss had my body turning hot. It was just a ploy to help her out, but I think it went on a bit longer than I’d intended.
By the time we pulled back from each other, we were both breathing heavy. The guy was gone, which was my goal. I introduced myself, as did Ava, and we hit it off from there. We’ve been best friends ever since. We’ve both been a part of a few threesomes together, the two of us with a guy, but nothing else has ever happened between us. I don’t want it to, and neither does she. But we’re completely fine with seeing each other’s naked bodies. That’s just how we are.
“Get your ass out of bed and get dressed. We’re meeting Nathan and Tegan in thirty minutes.” She walks to my dresser and rummages through my underwear drawer, throwing me a bra and shirt.
