by Rose Croft
I pushed my hair off my face. “Hey.”
“I need to talk to you.” His voice was deep. It held a hint of seriousness, and something else I couldn’t completely decipher.
“Okay,” I said cautiously, knowing that this was about my book. He knew. It was too obvious not to know.
“I’m at your door.” Click. Omyeffinggod, I’m not prepared for this. I scurried around and threw on some shorts.
Present
I anxiously walked to the door, hoping Andrew wasn’t upset that I’d taken an intimate moment we shared together and practically retold it in the book. Hopefully, he would understand how poignant that moment was. It was to me. I unlocked the door and opened it slowly, scanning his face.
“That was us.” He stared at me like a wolf coveting a lamb. He stepped forward, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and I retreated until he closed the door behind us, taking up my space like he always did. We were so close that my nipples grazed the front of his shirt. “That was fucking us.” The words rushed out desperately as he stood tall, stiff, imposing before me. His mouth was a straight line that he fought to maintain. From anger or laughter, I didn’t know. Was this the I’m-brooding Andrew, or the I’m-so-horny-I-wanna-fuck-you Andrew? His moods were sometimes hard to decipher. But all sides of Andrew appealed to me. And at the moment I really wanted the latter.
I nodded. By now our lips were centimeters apart. Was he mad? I couldn’t tell. He appeared as though he were about to rip my clothes off. “I can explain.” My voice finally pushed through as my thighs clenched together. I felt my core dripping in anticipation.
He wasted no time as he ducked down, his shoulder pressing my stomach, and lifted my butt, throwing me over his shoulder effortlessly. “Start explaining. You have about two minutes before I fuck you senseless.” He stalked through the living room, and I knew where we were going.
I smiled into his back. “You’re not angry?”
“Angry?” Andrew cupped my upper thigh. His finger dragged over the seam of my thin night shorts at my crotch. “Hell, no, I’m so goddamned horny right now.” Yay, horny Andrew!
He stepped into my room and kicked the door closed, backed me against the wall and wrapped my legs around him. He pressed into me as his lips grazed my shoulder, then collarbone. I tried to explain. “I thought…the other night…what we shared…” He dragged his mouth down to my nipple and sucked hard through the material. I moaned. “Andrew…I can’t talk while you do this.”
“And I can’t stop touching you, so I guess we’ll have to compromise.” He yanked my shorts down, nearly ripping them as he kept me pinned to the wall. The panties dug into my skin as he did tear them off.
“Andrew!” I gasped, never having seen him so worked up, but it heightened my need, too. This desperation that we always seemed to share whenever we came together.
“Fuck, Scout, sorry.” He didn’t seem too repentant as he dropped down to the floor. I didn’t care either. He brought one of my knees over his shoulder and licked a beeline from my belly button down to my clit. I slumped my head to the side as I felt his tongue drive into me. Thank goodness his hands braced me or I might’ve fallen over. I moaned, not caring that my juices were probably dripping all over his face. He soon brought a few fingers to the party as he pumped harder, faster, and his teeth scraped my sensitive bud to the rhythm of his movements. Jesus, he was going to eat me raw and finger fuck me to death…and it felt sublime.
“Feels so good. So good.” I hammered my hips into his mouth, feeling the pressure build in my core, and my body bowed up like a slingshot ready to release. I buried my hands in Andrew’s thick, tousled hair, holding on for life as my body trembled, peaking in uncontrollable jerks, and my toes curled. My breathing was loud, unsteady, but I felt languid, relaxed—in love. Crazy love for this man.
He nuzzled my pelvic bone. “You’re so fucking exquisite like this.”
I cupped his cheeks and said with all the tenderness I felt for him, because this was such a tender statement. “I thought you were horny.”
He chuckled, placing feathery kisses on my stomach. “Very. But I also wanted to give you multiple orgasms tonight.”
“Let’s keep going, then.”
He stood up and dragged my tank top over my head, leading me to the bed, where he pushed me down on my stomach and trailed his finger down my spine. My skin fluttered. When his touch disappeared, I twisted my head, watching as he stripped down. I was still amazed at his broad shoulders and sinewy physique. Andrew the teenager had been gorgeous, but Andrew the man was so hot that he needed to come with a warning…you might combust at any time. He was so hard and ready—for me.
He ran his lips up my thigh as he leaned over me, gripping my waist, propping me up on my knees as his mouth sucked and nipped the curve of my butt. He shifted behind me and pushed two fingers into my core. His chest was now pressed into my back while his nose nudged into my neck. “Tell me why you put our love scene in your book, Loren.”
Didn’t I already say I couldn’t speak when he did this? I tried, though. “I did it…” a silent cry escaped out of my mouth “…because Adam and Veronica were so deeply, insanely in love with each other…” I was panting hard now as he stretched me with another finger and his tongue circled my ear. I was having trouble remembering who I was right then, much less trying to recount my reasoning. My arms shook as I tried to keep myself steady.
“I wanted that scene to be…” I ducked my head, bucking against him. My pussy was tingling, dripping with need.
“You wanted it to be what?” He was relentless, and his fingers pumped faster. His tongue circled the hole in my ear.
“I wanted the love scene to…reflect their desperate…obsessive attraction to each other as if they would…Jesus, Andrew I’m gonna come!” I dug my nails into the comforter. My limbs started to tighten as my senses intensified in my core.
Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, leaving me empty. Oh, hell no! “Not yet. Finish what you were saying.”
I twisted my head and leveled my eyes on his. “As if they would both cease to exist if they weren’t joined together in both body and soul, a divine communion.”
“Is that how you see us?” he whispered against my lips, and I felt his tip moving down the seam of my ass. I clenched involuntarily, but he moved it further down to my other entrance. He gripped my hips tight.
The faint light from my bedside lamp ignited his face. His pupils were large like brilliant orbs drawing me in. “Yes.”
Andrew groaned, slamming his mouth over mine, plunging his cock into my sex simultaneously. Whoosh went my breath as he thrust in and out. After a few passes, since I’d already been on the brink of climactic fireworks moments before, it wasn’t long until I was clenching and moaning out his name over and over as my arms gave out. He splayed one hand over my abdomen and another clasped my boob, holding me securely against him, pinching my nipple. “You know why I had to see you tonight?” He pounded against me harder, running his fingers over my overly stimulated clit. He was ruthless tonight. He was a sex monster, but a very pleasurable sex monster.
“Because you were horny?” I moaned out. And with each deep drive, I moaned again…and again…and again. I was like the little engine that could come.
“That, too, but that’s not what I meant.” He laughed out the first part, but ended the final part in uneven breaths. “Because I agree with everything you said…” His thrusts were jerkier, irregular as if he were about to lose his control. “About them, about us…I love you, Scout.” My legs trembled, and it was like I wore a shock collar between my legs because it was happening again. I clasped around his cock, quaking as I climaxed for the third time. I was probably going to lose all feeling in my girl parts at this rate, but it was a hell of a ride.
This time, I was truly going to face-plant into the bed if he let go, but he kept one arm around me. He braced a hand on the mattress as he pressed into me deeply, so profound that I thought he might lance my stomach.
He groaned out as though he were in pain, and I felt his liquid heat filling me as he pulsed and pulsed.
“I love you, Andrew,” I bit out as I struggled to catch my breath.
He dug his lips into my neck before we both collapsed on the bed. He wrapped his arms around me, still panting. I leaned my head on his shoulder as I traced lines on his chest.
When my breaths finally evened out, I asked, “So, did you like my book?”
His chest shook and he chuckled. “What do you think?” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I loved your book. The ending was epic, just how you wanted it.”
“You’re seriously not angry that I put an intimate moment of ours in the book?” I leaned up and scanned his face but didn’t detect any sign of annoyance.
“No, Scout, I’m actually flattered that you see us that way. No one will know but us.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I ran my hand over my mouth; my eyes shifted sheepishly. “Well, maybe Rose, too.”
He flashed his Armani-model smile, showing his flawless white teeth. “Why am I not surprised? She knows ev-ery-thing.” I laughed, too, kissing his chin.
“Hey.” He cupped my face. “After you finish your edits, I would like to send the manuscript to my agent.”
My eyelids shot so high I thought they might hit the ceiling. “What?” I moved my head one way and then the other, trying to comprehend what he’d said. “Andrew, you don’t have to do this just because I’m your girlfriend.”
“I’m not. I’m doing it because it’s a good story.” He shifted us to where we were both on our sides mirroring each other. He stared at me like I was the only person in the world for him. “I would never send it to him if I didn’t believe it was good.”
“Do you like my story that much?” Why did I keep on questioning myself?
He sighed as he gripped his inky hair, and his rare, beautiful eyes clung to me. “Yes. I believe in you, Loren.”
I melted under his rock-star pouty eyes, and his touch. I could see the truth in his eyes, and I loved him for that. I self-consciously stared at the tattoo that looked like symbols written over his heart.
“What does it mean?”
He glanced down at my finger and sighed as if this were a trivial question. “One night, several years ago, when I was still living in L.A., a friend and I went out and got really hammered. We were celebrating. It was right after I found out I had been nominated for best screenwriter. Our drunk asses decided we would go get tattoos after leaving some club. My buddy was way into Buddhist symbolism and art, so he had some message written in Sanskrit across his chest. I didn’t know what I wanted to get, and the tattoo artist suggested doing someone’s name in Sanskrit—like someone important to me. I was drunk and had been thinking about you a lot and wondering if you had seen my films. I remembered that day in your room when you kissed me on my chest, over my heart. I had a moment of weakness and told the guy to tattoo your name across my heart.” He covered my hand with his. “This only beats for you.”
I had finished the second round of editing on my book. I wanted to share it with Loren but had kept her in suspense, waiting until the book was presentable. She was very understanding, telling me that she wouldn’t press until I was ready to show her.
I know. It seemed a little unfair that I had read her story, but I was very self-conscious about her seeing my raw work. This book had some sensitive material, and I wanted to make certain I got it right. I had to be pleased with it before she saw it. Loren wasn’t the only one inspired by our past.
I was sitting on the couch in my loft, waiting for her to return from her shift at the restaurant. Yes, she still insisted on working two jobs. However, with her book being picked up by a publisher, she thought about giving her notice at the editing job. She said the hours at the restaurant would be more conducive to her writing hours, and she made more money there, too. Of course, I wanted her to quit both jobs so we would have more time together, but I wasn’t that much of a selfish asshole to hound her about it. It would happen eventually because her writing was amazing.
We were already collaborating on our second erotica story. It was fun kicking ideas around and writing together. We also had other ideas in other genres we hoped to explore in the future.
Speaking of future, it looked damn bright. We spent every moment possible together. Eventually, I hoped to convince her to move to Austin. We’d been down there, too, when she had days off.
We’d spent time with my parents. My parents remembered Loren and were pleased to see her. My mom had always liked her and wondered what had happened between us. I’d never shared why we hadn’t seen each other since. But she’d known how close we were in high school. If I was happy, my parents were, too. I hadn’t seen Loren’s parents since that crazy day years ago, but we were supposed to have dinner with them this weekend. Who knows how that will go?
The front door opened, drawing my attention. “Hey.” Loren passed through, ending up in front of me, bending over the couch and planting a kiss on my mouth.
“Hey, babe. How was your evening?” It was Friday night. Luckily, she was scheduled to be off Saturday and Sunday, so we had the weekend to ourselves.
“Busy. But I killed it in tips. What are you doing?” Before I could answer, she glanced down at the thick stack of papers on the coffee table. “Wait. Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah. I thought you might want to read it.”
“You know I do. I’ve been waiting for a long time for you to tell me about it.” She reached out. “May I?”
Her butt was in my face as she bent down. Of course, her ass in a tight skirt was a distraction. “Wait, not yet.” I placed my hands on her pert cheeks.
“Quit trying to divert my attention, Andrew.” She gripped my fingers, trying to move them, but like a ninja, I quickly grasped her wrists and pulled her into my lap.
“I smell like a steak house,” she cautioned as my lips sought the back of her exposed neck.
“That’s okay. I love steak.” I ran my palms down her chest, cupping her tits.
“Seriously, Andrew? You’re like a sexed-up teenager.” She wasn’t lying about that. It wasn’t as if I was slacking in my making-love-to-my-lady skills, which usually meant one or multiple times a day. That sounded very Ron Burgandy-ish, but who gave a fuck. She arched her back, trying to make more contact anyway.
“I’m not the only one. I bet if I travel south of the border, I’ll hit the Rio Grande.” I guided my fingers under her skirt to confirm my statement. And I was right, as usual.
Later, we were lying in bed. She was enthralled in reading while I thumbed through the channels on the TV. I wasn’t engaged because my mind kept overanalyzing what was going through Loren’s head as she read. Sometimes, I would slyly glance over and see her facial expressions, which ranged from a half-smile to an O face, and an occasional frown.
When it was almost three in the morning, I clicked off the TV. “I’m going to sleep. Are you?”
“In a minute.” She never looked up.
“I take it you like it?”
“Maybe. I’ll reserve my comments until after I finish.”
She was getting me back for holding out on her. Surely, she was into the story; she hadn’t put it down. She could at least throw me a bone, even say something generic like It’s good. I’d take that at the moment, but she was killing me with this shit.
The next day I was in the kitchen, on my laptop, writing. It was around eleven, and Loren was still in bed. She must’ve stayed up all night reading.
I was deep into my work when I felt Loren’s arms around me as she told me good morning.
“It’s almost afternoon.” I turned around, holding her hands in mine. “Did you finish?”
“I’m close. I plan on reading after I eat and have a cup of coffee.”
“You’re going to keep acting mysterious about it, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a little vindictive, you know that
?” I tried to act as if I weren’t dying to know her opinion, but it was getting to me. “I guess you can make your own coffee and food, too.”
However, when she frowned and made a move to the refrigerator, I pulled her back and ran my lips over hers. “I’ll make it for you. Sit down.”
When I handed her the steaming coffee cup, she looked up from my laptop. “Wow, Andrew. You really know how to write a sex scene.” She was reading the draft we worked on together. She did the female’s POV, and I wrote the male’s. It was interesting, much like a duet, with vivid fucking.
“Thanks. Your turn.” I handed her a plate.
“I will…later.” She took her coffee and bagel back to the bedroom. She still left me hanging. Very evil.
Finally, she emerged a few hours later and appeared as though she’d been crying.
“Loren, what’s wrong?” I stood up and wrapped my arms around her. I hated to see her cry. Whenever she felt pain, I did, too. I didn’t write the book to upset her. I was trying to celebrate my feelings for her.
She shook her head, and laid her cheek over my heart. “The story was…beautiful, Andrew.”
“So, you liked it?” My mouth lifted in both happiness and relief. I continued to hold her, never wanting to let go.
“Of course, I did. I thought you saw me as a shallow person in high school, but you portrayed me as some sort of heroine.” She paused. “You were writing about me, right?”
“Yes.” The book was titled About a Girl, and it was basically a coming-of-age book about getting a second chance. I wanted Loren to see the true way I saw her in high school with her outstanding qualities and flaws. “Now we’re even on the TMI of our lives.”
She nearly blinded me with her smile. “And, like you, I’m flattered.”
“I love you, you know that?” Of course she knew it. I think I said it to her nearly every damn day. No truer words had been spoken.
