Relapse

by J. P. Nicholas

  "Oh, God," I whimper as he encircles the rim of my nipple with his tongue. The stubble on his chin abrades it, causing my body to shudder with intense pleasure.

  Everything in the room is tight, taut, and rigid. The air. My nipples. My voice. His cock.

  "I've never wanted you more than I do in this moment," he rasps out around my breast, his voice strung tight.

  "Then take me," I beg on a moan, wanting him to do just that.

  He massages one breast with his mouth as he pinches the other's nipple. I can feel the heat pooling between my legs. Blindly, his hands fumble against the button of my jeans, popping it free within seconds. I can hear the sliding of the zipper coming undone. I lift my hips, allowing his roaming hands to pull the confining denim off my person. When it falls to my ankles, I kick it off and into the air. It's no longer my problem.

  His lips trail their way down my stomach slowly. Darren makes sure to swirl his tongue around my navel before he briefly dips it inside. It was there for maybe a fraction of a second before his naughty mouth finds its way to my panties. His lips find the fabric, kissing my hotspot through them as if they're not there. I writhe up against his tongue, begging for him to remove the barrier that separates us. He continues to tongue me through my panties; the damp fabric feels heavy against my throbbing pussy.

  Once again, Darren clamps his teeth down around the hem of my panties. His nose brushes over my slit as he yanks them down my legs until they too are no longer a barrier. I throw my head back and moan as his finger rubs against my slit.

  "So wet for me," he groans in approval. "I won't make you wait too much longer, sweetheart."

  My vision fades to black when he shoves two fingers deep inside me. I make a sound that turns into a moan as he curls the tips of his fingers upward, hitting my sweet spot just right. I grind and thrust against his hand, riding his fingers as I seek my own relief. I cry out as I explode, my muscles clamping down around them. He continues to thrust them forward through my aftershocks. I blink my eyes repeatedly, allowing my vision to return.

  "Christ, I can't hold out anymore. I need to be inside of you." He brings his fingers to his lips, puts them in his mouth, and sucks. "So bloody delicious."

  Grabbing my ankles, he flips me over. My head rests on one of his pillows as my breasts smash against the sheets. I take a deep sniff. It smells like him and that manly scent I want to be drowned in forever. I hear clothes hit the floor in a hurry before he slowly eases into me from behind.

  I purr as my muscles stretch around every inch of him, accommodating to his needs as he fills me.

  "There's no better feeling in the world than being inside you, Cherub.” His husky voice envelopes me from behind.

  Then, he shifts his hips, slowly slipping in and out of me, prepping me for what is to come. He gradually picks up the pace, continuing to thrust into me from behind, the angle almost more than I can take. Thrust after obliterating thrust. He bucks into me, hard, desperate, needy. He wraps my hair around his fist, anchoring me to him.

  Reaching behind me, I blindly find his ass, digging my nails deep into the flesh as I pull him deeper. Oh, yes! Right there! Right fucking there! Don't stop! Please, don't stop!

  "Darren!" He smothers my moan with his mouth as I come so hard that I see stars.

  He drives deeper as my body still quivers from the aftermath of what he does to me. His fingers tighten around my hips as he thrusts hard. I can feel my muscles clamp down harder as he continues to drive into me.

  “Sweet fucking—" His words turn into a mighty roar as his orgasm rips through his body. Sexiest. Fucking. Sound. Ever. No doubt about it.

  With this man, I feel out of control. Like being in his presence makes me lose all my willpower. I should be scared shitless about that, but I'm not. Because I know, with him, I will never have to be afraid. He loves me wholeheartedly. And that in itself is almost as amazing as he is. Darren Gracen is one of a kind, and I still can't believe that he's all mine.

  Chapter Thirty

  Aly

  Morning light flutters in through the window, the bright beams waking me as they dance across my face. I rub the sleep from my eyes and roll over to look at Darren. He's still sleeping, his gorgeous Greek god body twisted in the sheets…the same gray sheets that hang precariously low on his hips. So low that I can see the tip of his glorious cock peeking out of them. I lick my lips, half-tempted to wake him up with a morning blowjob. But seeing him sleeping so peacefully, like a bear in hibernation, I decide against it, not wanting to do anything to disturb his sex-fueled slumber.

  This view is stupendous, and I could get used to waking up next to him every morning. I rest my head on his chest. Still asleep, he snakes his arm around me and pulls me closer to his side, enveloping me in his warmth. I can both hear and feel the thump of his heartbeat as it drums against the side of my face. The sound is melodic, soothing, and addictive. I almost wish I could record it, so I can play it back when I go to bed every night.

  A rumbling sound comes from his chest. I look up to meet his ocean blues as he scrubs a hand over his face and yawns.

  "Morning," he grumbles, still half-asleep. His deep, gravelly voice shoots straight to my nipples, causing them to pebble. He stares down at me as he furrows his brow. "What's going on inside that clever mind of yours?"

  "Honestly, that you have the kind of long eyelashes that any woman would kill for. Myself included." His smirk falters as a frown pulls down on his lips. "What's wrong?"

  "I was hoping your thoughts were of the dirtier variety."

  I trace a finger down the smattering of dark hair beneath his navel. I love this path to his promised land. It’s, dare I say…promising.

  "Is this better?" I ask, clutching his manhood in the palm of my hand.

  "Indubitably," he rasps out as I give his shaft a few long strokes.

  "Indubitably, huh? You have never sounded more British than you do saying that. Say it for me again, slower." I command in a low, sultry tone.

  "In-du-bi-tab-ly."

  I don't know why this turns me on so much, but it does. It sparks an electric charge that surges straight to my core. I feel his arousal pulsate in my hand.

  "I want you," he groans as he closes his eyes.

  I reach upward and caress the side of his face. "Shower with me then?"

  "Fuck, yes."

  Sex with this man is orgasmic! How could it not be when he's sex on a stick? Every brush, stroke, lick, nip, suck, tug, and thrust sends me to cloud nine. Moans, groans, and pants have become the soundtrack of us. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I bury myself in schoolwork, desperately trying to catch up on grading my students' Country Analysis Reports. So far so good, they've been grasping a good portion of the concepts that I wanted them to.

  Since the university is closed today for the Founder's Day Luau, that gives me the perfect opportunity to grade the hundreds of reports I've been neglecting for a week or so now. Founder's Day was never something I got excited about as a kid. Well, other than the no school in session part—that was always riveting. But the actual event itself, once you've been to one, you've been to them all. Just because they change the theme doesn't mean that the topic itself gets more interesting.

  The history behind the founding of our town is boring as hell…and that's coming from a history professor. Long story short, Jacobson Blackburn was a Confederate soldier who fled south from St. Augustine when the Union took control of the fort in 1862. That's the interesting part, aka the part that isn't celebrated. The part that is celebrated is him stopping when he found a pineapple plant to eat the fruit. While he was eating the juicy fruit, he decided to settle down in the area henceforth known as Sandy Heights. There are still pineapple plants rooted all down Pineapple Street. I told you that our founding story is dull as hell. Personally, I'd much rather hear about the seizing of the fort.

  "Hey there, gorgeous."

  The unexpected
voice causes me to jump, sending papers flying into the air. I place a hand over my heart. "Shit! Darren, you just scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here anyway? I told you this morning that I planned on grading papers all day."

  A devious smile tugs at his lips. "That is precisely why I am here. To rescue you. Or kidnap you."

  A raise a brow in question. "Well, which one is it?"

  He scoffs. "That depends on you and whether or not I have to sling you over my shoulder to get you out of here."

  I kneel to the floor, scurrying to pick up the loads of papers that fell off my desk. Darren rushes to my side to help me. It is then that I get a good look at his attire. He's wearing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt, which isn't buttoned, exposing his god-like physique as the fabric flanks his sides. The shirt is partnered with navy swim shorts, a purple-flowered lei, the necklace I gave him, and a pair of flipflops. Darren looks as if he just came back from a Hawaiian cruise, all casual and relaxed. His smile is infectious as he gazes into my eyes and holds out his hand.

  "Come with me, Cherub.”

  I shake my head. "That's too public. Everyone in town will be there. What will they think?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. "Let them think whatever the bloody hell they want to think. I'm tired of all the secrecy. I have the most perfect woman in the world, and I can't even flaunt her. How fucked up is that?"

  When I remain silent, he answers his own question. "Very. It's very fucked up. Now, what do you say? Do you want to get lei'd?"

  I lean in closer to him, a confused expression knitted on my brow. "What?"

  He tugs on the purple lei around his neck and waggles his brows. "Lei'd."

  "Oh, that makes more sense." I laugh in relief.

  He arches his brow as he helps me to my feet. "So, is that a yes?"

  I shake my head, wiping the optimistic smile off his face. "We can't go public, Darren. You know this. If we do, we’ll end up in the Gazette. Is that worth it?"

  Concern etches itself across his face as he takes a step back. "Yes. And quite frankly, it concerns me that I'm not worth it to you."

  Panic starts to churn around in my stomach. "That's not what I meant."

  "Then what did you mean? Because from where I'm standing, you just admitted what I feared to be true."

  The panic and guilt start to churn faster when I see the hurt in his eyes. This is not a situation I thought I was going to be in today. I'll keep digging, but I don't think I can dig my way out of this mess.

  "I meant-that-um…" my voice trails off when I can't find the right words. Once again, words are my fucking downfall. When I still can't string the right sentence together, I decide to ask him a question I'm pretty sure I don't want the answer to. "What do you fear?"

  He shakes his head in disappointment. "That I love you way more than you love me. Admit it, Aly."

  My heart twists in my chest at his use of my nickname. That stings far worse than I ever imagined it would. When we first met, Darren asked me my name, so I told him: Alyssa, but you can call me Aly. To which he replied: Why on Earth would I ruin such a beautiful name by shortening it? That would be a crime. To this day, he's never called me Aly once…until now.

  I fight back tears as the words slowly start to come back to me.

  "I meant that I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize your tenure. You've worked so hard to get considered for that honor. Us going public and ending up in the paper could change that; trust me. I have experienced that first hand. I lost my dream job on the Travel Channel because some newspaper spread lies that I was my boss’s side-chick. I don't want to be responsible for having you lose your job just like I did. You love what you do; you're damn good at it. I don't want to ruin that for you."

  He averts his gaze, giving me the chance to take a few steps forward, closing the distance that separated us. I place my fingers under his chin and straighten his head. Bringing my lips to his, I place a short, chaste kiss against them.

  "I'm so sorry," I mumble the words against his lips before I loop my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me. I kiss him again, hoping that he will reciprocate my movements and kiss me back.

  I'm about to lose all hope when he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, nipping it ever so gently. Relief floods over me. I can taste the anger and frustration on his tongue as he sweeps his over mine. He kisses me aggressively for a couple more minutes before he pulls away, breaking our connection.

  His face is stoic, and for the very first time, I can't read him. And that scares me.

  “I’m sorry, Darren. I didn't mean to—"

  “I know. I’m sorry some wanker reporter cost you your dream job. Now, I understand your hatred for all things newspaper related.”

  He grabs my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. His expression softens as he brings the back of my hand to his mouth and presses it against his lips. Whatever it was that was bothering him appears not to afflict him anymore. He seems to return to his normal, cheerful self.

  "What do you say we ditch their luau and make our own?" A wicked smile curls his mouth.

  This is the Darren I'm used to. I can handle this side of him. The other one, not so much.

  "What does that consist of?" I whisper in a low seductive tone.

  He brings his lips to my ear and whispers. "You. Me. My pool. Naked."

  I furrow my brow. "What makes that a luau?"

  "I have tiki torches in my garage. I could be persuaded to light a few." He waggles his brows.

  "Then what are we still doing here?"

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Darren

  I can pretend that my dick flying at half-mast is just simply morning wood, but it's not. It's so much more than that. It's being next to her. Her intoxicating scent on my pillow. Her warm body in my bed. Her being mine again. Loving her. God, I love this woman sleeping next to me. With all my heart. And then some. I need her more than I need my next breath. She is my oxygen, coursing through my veins.

  Alyssa is snuggled up into my right side, her arm draped over my stomach, making it impossible to move without disturbing her. She purses her lips in her sleep, similar to the way a baby does. It's so fucking adorable. I love knowing that little tidbit about her. I love seeing her this way. Vulnerable. Peaceful. Careless. Without a worry in the world.

  She worries too damn much about every little thing. It's a quirk I've learned to love, but there are days where I find it incredibly miffing. Like yesterday, for example. Sometimes I worry that I'm still not enough for her like I wasn't back then. That she is going to wake up one day and realize that I'm holding her back. Then, she'll leave me. And I'll be back at square one. Alone. Without her.

  I shudder at the thought for a moment before I mentally sweep it under the carpet in my mind. I don't want to consider that possibility.

  I reach across Alyssa and snatch the book she was reading last night before bed off the nightstand. I examine the cover. On it is some naked man with a physique similar to my own, his nob is covered by strategically placed bed sheets as he lays reclined in bed. Big Rock by Lauren Blakely. I flip open the cover, careful to keep her bookmark in place and start reading the prologue. I chuckle to myself as I read the first sentence: my dick is fucking awesome. I can definitely relate; my dick is fucking awesome.

  "Are you reading my book?" Alyssa queries, her usually sweet voice groggy from sleep.

  I must've gotten lost in the pages, reading word after word, chapter after chapter. I turn and glance at the clock. Bloody hell! I've been reading for almost an hour and a half. Where has the time gone?

  I shift my gaze back to her. "Yeah. Do you mind?"

  She shakes her head and scrunches her nose. Cutest fucking thing ever. A nose crinkle combined with eye squints is the epitome of maximum cuteness. "No, just weird to see you reading it. Do you actually like it?"

  "Surprisingly, yeah. I do. I really relate to this Spencer character."

  "Oh, what part are you on?"

&n
bsp; I smirk. "I can't tell you that."

  Her brow lifts in question. "Why's that?"

  “Because I passed your bookmark a few chapters ago,” I scoff.

  "You did not!" Her shock is showcased in her features as she slaps my arm. I remain silent, telling her that I'm serious. She peeks over and examines the page number that I'm on. "Oh, my God! You actually passed me."

  I quickly memorize the page number, shut the book, and place it back on the nightstand.

  "Shower together?" I ask her optimistically as I waggle my brows.

  She shakes her head. "No can do. I'm expecting a call from Hannah. Can you answer my phone and tell her I'll call her back when I get out of the shower?"

  I drag a hand through my thick hair, stricken with bed head, and heave a sigh. "Sure. But how am I to distract myself from thinking about your naked body beyond that door?"

  She waves the book in front of my face. "Read, perhaps."

  I snatch the book from her and continue reading. With enormous self-restraint, I don't pry my eyes off the page as she struts her sexy, naked arse into the bathroom and shuts the door. I hear the humming of water as it sprays down her naked body. I imagine the water flowing down her succulent tits, the thought making me perpetually hard.

  Fuck, I'm shite at trying to distract myself. In another desperate attempt, I bury my nose in the book, reading each word by its syllables to get my mind off her and her body, lathered up in soapy suds.

  The chorus of Britney Spears' Toxic blasts through the air. With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride. You're toxic; I'm slippin' under. I let it ring a few moments longer than I should because I bloody love that song. Without looking at the caller ID, I swipe the green circle on the screen to answer it.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, is this Alyssa Lance?" Her voice sounds skeptical, probably because my deep voice is throwing her off.