Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

“Yeah.” I can nearly taste him; if he’d just move a little bit closer to me, I could.

  “JJ!!” Mom’s shriek could wake the dead. “You and the best man have to sit over here! Don’t stand back in the corner—come join us!”

  I inhale Devon’s minty breath with a hint of whiskey when he brushes his lips to my cheek. “Raincheck.”

  Definitely.

  Melody and Mom have the whole rehearsal dinner meticulously planned out, including fixed seating. The maid of honor and best man are seated with the rest of the bridal party at a huge rectangular table with the bride and groom and their families. Neil has no parents or siblings, so that means it’s just Mom and Cole and us.

  Mom is beyond thrilled to hear that Devon and I already know each other.

  “That makes this whole weekend much more comfortable, doesn’t it?” she says, giving me an obvious wink. “Devon, you make a wonderful wedding date for Jade.”

  Cole’s put on his whole protective brother act, and he gives Devon a hard look. “Football players aren’t known for making good dates, Mom,” he says.

  “Stereotypically, I’d agree with you,” Devon says to Cole. “But I’m not most players. I knew Jade before I was drafted.”

  “How?” Cole asks him suspiciously.

  Devon goes silent.

  Realizing he’s protecting me, I speak up. “He met me when I was homeless.”

  Mom turns several shades paler. So does Melody.

  And Cole…well, he flinches.

  “He is literally the reason I didn’t give up on everything,” I say. “He was there for me when nobody else was.”

  “Jade,” Devon murmurs as he takes my hand under the table.

  “I’m serious,” I say. “It’s the truth.”

  Mom immediately starts tripping over herself with excuses.

  I was too difficult, so she had to send me to my father.

  My father was a terrible parent and that’s why he skipped out on me.

  She didn’t know how to reach me, and so she gave up trying.

  Only the rough pad of Devon’s thumb stroking my hand keeps me calm.

  When Mom runs out of words, Cole, his dark eyes cloudy, thanks Devon for being there for me and extends a hand across the table to him.

  Before things can get more awkward, the wedding planner approaches our table to ask Mom a question. Thank God, her interruption cuts into our awkward dinner conversation, and I gently detangle my hand from Devon’s.

  15

  Mom offers up a lengthy toast to Melody and Neil, and then Melody gives an even lengthier toast to Neil.

  Melody and Neil have been cute together tonight, and he’s been on his best behavior. He’s not drunk; he’s not flirting with other women like Mel said he tends to do, and he seems devoted to her. I’m more optimistic about the union than I had been, which is a relief. I really do just want my sister to be happy.

  After dinner, she invites the whole party, plus my friends, to a karaoke bar across the street from the hotel.

  We all go, and soon Melody and Neil are making out in a booth, and Cole’s found a woman to flirt with and probably take back to the hotel.

  Devon’s chatting with London and Caleb about football while Paris, California, and I do more catching up.

  “I’m so happy we got to meet Devon,” Paris says to me.

  “Me too,” I say. “And I appreciate how you’ve kept your cool around him.”

  California laughs. “I thought we might have to muzzle her when you first saw him at lunch. She was beside herself with enthusiasm.”

  “True. But I kept my overwhelming excitement under control,” Paris says to me. “You should go hang with him alone now. We’re all so out of whack with the time change anyway; we could be at this bar for hours.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be here for that long,” I say as Caleb calls out to Paris that he’s ready to turn in. “I think your boyfriend wants some private time with you.”

  “We had that this afternoon,” Paris says with a smile.

  “Babe,” London says to Cali. “You want to head out, too?”

  Paris, Cali, and I make plans to meet in the lobby for breakfast tomorrow morning, and we all stand up to leave.

  Devon and I walk with them to the hotel. Once he and I are alone, I don’t know what to do.

  I’m feeling out of sorts about my plans to honor my father. I’m about to tell Devon that he was right and I should just wait until we get back to L.A. But before I can, he leads me over to the elevator bank.

  “You ready?”

  I raise my hand in a don’t-know gesture. “Not really?”

  He presses the up button for the elevator. “No one ever is for these things. And I can’t give you some fucking platitude like ‘it’ll get easier if you wait’ because it won’t. It’ll always hurt like hell.”

  Okay, that felt way more personal than just general empathy, and I swear I see a shadow of pain cross his expression.

  But the elevator doors open, and I never get a good look at his face.

  A few minutes later, Devon and I are walking out of the hotel and down to the beach. I’m clasping the urn tightly in my hands, and Devon’s using a flashlight app on his phone.

  The moon is nearly full tonight, but I appreciate the extra security of the flashlight. Without any lights like I’m used to in the city, the beach is awfully quiet, and any extra light calms my nerves.

  Once we reach the shore, I stop, not sure how to go about tossing what’s in the urn into the sea.

  “Won’t it just wash back onto the beach?” I say in a hushed tone. “The water’s not very deep here.”

  Clearly, I didn’t think this through.

  But Devon takes my arm. “Let’s try up here.”

  He leads me around a set of rocks and up a long set of wooden stairs I hadn’t noticed. The stairs are built into the cliffs, and we climb them to the top where a bench sits on a plateau overlooking the Pacific. A long wooden railing provides a welcome barricade from the massive drop down to the water.

  “Will this work?” Devon asks, his tone an adorable mix of uncertainty and hopefulness.

  “This is perfect. I wouldn’t have thought of the cliffs.”

  I open the urn, and Devon takes a seat on the bench. “Take your time,” he says softly.

  I nod at him and then step up to the railing.

  “Dad,” I whisper quietly enough that even Devon a few feet behind can’t hear me. “I forgive you for running away nine years ago. I know how much you needed your freedom. It was like oxygen for you. Maybe now you can always have what you wanted here on Earth. I love you, Dad. Go be free.” I toss the contents over the railing to the vast, dark ocean below.

  I close up the urn once again, and return to Devon on the bench.

  Not sure what to do because if I speak I’m pretty sure I’ll start crying, I kind of wave at him with my hand.

  The moonlight casts a glow over both of us, and whatever he sees on my face makes him frown.

  He reaches out and gets hold of my waist. When I lean into his touch, he pulls me forward until I’m standing between his legs. I put the urn down on the bench next to us and, without thinking, climb onto Devon’s lap.

  His arms go around me tightly, and I get the distinct feeling that he needs this hug as much as I do. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the masculine scent of his woodsy cologne and fresh soap and him.

  We stay in a silent embrace for over a minute. I shed a few tears onto his shirt, and he runs his hand down my back. When he gets to the part where my dress dips and his fingers graze my bare back, I can’t hold back the shiver that goes through me.

  Devon’s hand stills. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

  But I’m not thinking about the team rules or keeping my job.

  I’m feeling the hard body of a man against me, and the only thought going through my brain is how much I want him.

  “I just let go of my father.” I lift my head to look at Devon in the mo
onlight. “Don’t make me let go of you, too.”

  “Jade.” My name sounds broken on his lips.

  Time stops as we stare at each other.

  And then, Devon’s hot mouth is ghosting mine.

  It’s barely a kiss—it’s more of a question. Is this okay? Is this what you want?

  Yes, yes. God, yes.

  I shift so I can hike up my dress enough to straddle him.

  And then, I kiss him back urgently.

  I don’t hold back.

  Our kiss isn’t soft.

  What I need right now is so much more important than gentle lovemaking. I need to feel alive.

  With a groan, Devon plunges his tongue into my open mouth as I grip his shirt with both fists. I manage to untuck his shirt from his pants, and I slide my hands underneath his shirt and over his flat stomach.

  Devon growls as my fingers make their way up to his hard, muscled chest. I can feel his erection against my stomach. Opening my legs wider, I rock into him, desperate to connect with his hardness.

  “Just like that,” he says into my lips. “Jade, you feel so fucking good.”

  He finds the zipper of my dress and drags it down so he can pull down the shoulder straps. The bra is built-in to my dress, so when the fabric drops to my waist, I’m now half-naked before him.

  And while it may be night, the moonlight clearly outlines my body.

  With his gaze squarely on my bare breasts, I squirm on his lap, trying not to outrightly pant.

  My nipples are now so hard the evening air hitting them is painfully sensitive.

  “Your breasts are incredible.” His tone is one of awe as he stares at them, and I feel him harden even more beneath me.

  “Thank you.”

  When he reaches out his hand, I’m sure he’s going to cup my breast. Instead, he lifts the black cross necklace I’m never without.

  “Were you wearing this the day we met?”

  His question is unexpected, and I freeze.

  I almost forgot having sex with Devon won’t be like having sex with any of the other guys from my past. Not that there were a lot of them, but none of them knew about me what he does.

  None of them knew me then.

  I may have even mentioned to them offhandedly that I was homeless for a time.

  But mentioning and seeing are two very different things.

  Devon saw me—he really saw me—at my most vulnerable.

  And for him to see me naked—fuck—that’s scary for me. But it’s also thrilling. To know that he accepts all of me—my strong and my weak—is a new experience and something I have to adjust to.

  “I was,” I tell him, putting my hand over his at my throat.

  He fingers the black cross as he studies my face. Following his movements with my eyes, I keep my hand over his while he strokes the cross.

  “What does it mean to you?” he asks me.

  I look down at it wrapped up in his large hand.

  “I got it the morning after my father left. I went to a flea market, hoping for some free food samples from the vendors. I was terrified because now I knew that I was really, truly alone on the streets. When my dad was with me, I relied on him to tell me where we’d stay that night and where we’d get food, that sort of thing. But when he left, I had to grow up overnight.”

  “I can relate to that,” Devon says.

  I want to ask him more, but I know he’s not ready to share his story yet. So I’ll tell him more of mine.

  “One of the vendors was selling handmade crosses. Some were to hang on your wall; some were on earrings; and some were like this one.” I rub his hand holding the cross around my neck. “I asked the vendor what color she would recommend. She told me my aura was filled with fear and uncertainty and that black is the color of rebirth and transmutation. She said a black cross would protect me during this time and keep me safe while I found my way. I had no money, but she gave this to me as a gift.”

  Devon’s expression doesn’t change, and if I didn’t know him like I do, I might have missed the way he blinks and how his jaw tightens.

  “That’s amazing,” he says. “And you kept it all this time.”

  I nod. “And once I graduated from Harvard and returned to L.A., I found her at the same flea market, still selling the same crosses. I insisted on paying her for this one. She didn’t want to take my money, but I told her what a gift it was for me when I really needed it, and she was touched.”

  Devon’s fingers loosen on the cross and lightly brush over my breasts.

  I try to keep quiet, but a strangled cry leaves my throat.

  “Let it go, Jade.” He raises his eyes to mine. “Can you let it go?”

  His question hits me deep, and I manage a nod.

  When he takes his index finger and gently traces first one nipple, then the other, I moan. His touch feels so good; it’s so, so good.

  And as he lowers his head and abruptly sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, I have to bite back on a scream.

  “Oh, God. Oh, my God. Devon.” I say his name like a prayer.

  One of his hands is now snaking up the inside of my thigh.

  When it reaches my thong and I feel him pull the panel aside to find my slippery wetness, he sucks so hard on my nipple I actually think I might come on the spot.

  I’m hardly aware of what I’m doing. I drop my head back and slam my eyes shut as Devon slides two fingers inside me.

  He only strokes a few times before pulling out. He brings his mouth to the corner of my lips.

  “I want to be inside you,” he says. “I’ve wanted it for nine years. But no pressure. If you don’t want to…”

  “I do,” I say instantly. “More than anything.”

  I’m already fumbling with his belt. He helps me to lower his pants off his hips. His erection stands proudly against his stomach as he mutters, “Shit. The condom’s in my wallet, which is…”

  In his pants pocket. I help him locate it, and he rolls it on carefully before shifting my thong to the side and lifting me so that his thick length presses against my opening.

  “Take me inside you,” he says to me, his eyes dark with lust. “Take me deep.”

  I line myself up and then slowly lower my hips. He’s big, and he’s ridiculously hard, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet in my life, and he slides inside me without too much discomfort.

  He praises me the entire time I’m taking him in. “That’s it,” he says. “Fuck, Jade. You feel so good.”

  Once I’m fully seated on top of him, he flashes a ridiculously sexy, wicked smile. “You ready?”

  I take his lower lip in my teeth. “I’m ready.”

  He’s still grinning as he nips me back. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He drapes my arms around his neck. “Better hang on.”

  I’m about to say, “Yeah, right,” but his hands cup my ass, and he immediately starts fucking me.

  And the landscape of my life—of making sure I never give up control—shifts.

  Because I may be on top, but Devon is clearly in charge of this ride.

  And of knowing what I like.

  Because while I’ve had plenty of sex before, I’ve never had sex like this.

  This—this is blowing my mind.

  As he drives into me, his fingers tug at my thong, which is rubbing the crack of my ass with every thrust. And I’m now officially in a fog of lust. I literally lose every thought in my head other than how good this feels.

  “So…God,” I get out as I drop my head onto his shoulder and hang on.

  “Fuck, babe.” Devon’s movements are getting choppy. “You’re wrecking me. I’m so goddamn close…”

  Maybe it was the sweet term of endearment when he called me babe. Maybe it was the amazing power of his mouth or his hard, thick erection. Maybe it was the way he so clearly knows what he’s doing in this arena. But whatever it is, I’m coming.

  And I can tell it’s going to be epic.

&nb
sp; I clench around him so hard he cries out my name in surprise. My teeth sink into the junction between his neck and shoulder, and I know I drool all over him.

  God, I never come that fast. Or that hard. And always, after one orgasm, I’m good for the night.

  He groans as he gives one giant thrust into me, going deeper than he has before.

  Shit, I feel like I’m going to, like I actually might…but you can’t, my mind says. You never come twice.

  But I am.

  “Dev-on, I’m com-ing…” I get out just as he jerks up into me and calls out my name.

  His orgasm is long and intense, and I’m right there with him. We ride it out together until we both kind of collapse on each other.

  “Holy fuck.” Devon puts his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss.

  Maybe he meant for it to be a quick kiss. A thank you of a kind.

  But this kiss isn’t brief. It’s long, and it’s intimate. Our tongues tangle together, and Devon’s fingers trail across my breasts, plucking at my nipples.

  I can feel him getting hard again, and I break the kiss.

  “Um.” I glance down. “If we’re thinking of maybe doing that again…”

  He brushes my cheek tenderly with his hand. “You okay?” he asks me. “I didn’t mean to assume. I know, it’s intense, huh?”

  This is intense. It’s almost too much.

  Except it’s not.

  Because I want him again. I can’t imagine ever not wanting Devon Wilkens.

  “It is,” I say. “But I definitely want to do it again. I just…” I glance to my left.

  “What is it?” he asks me.

  “I think I’d like to be with you without the urn nestled up next to us,” spills out of my mouth.

  Devon’s eyes flick to the urn leaning against my leg. “God, of course.” He pulls out of me gently. “Was that too rough?” he asks me.

  “No. I loved it.”

  “Me too.” He kisses me softly and then helps me fix my dress.

  He zips me up, and I grab the urn while he pulls up his pants. He takes my free hand in his, and we make our way back to the hotel.

  16