by Melody Grace
Will slowly thrusts inside me, and I know, there’s no turning back.
Not from how right this feels, how he fits me so perfectly. Grinding deep, fuck, so deep, our bodies rising up to meld with each other, like we were always meant to be this way. The feel of him is like nothing in the world. Filling me up, stretching me, already sending bolts of pleasure rushing thick through my every last sense. I cling to him, it’s all I can do to match the slow, sensuous pace of his body, each stroke more powerful than the last. Will rises up on his elbows, face just inches from mine. Our lips touch, and I feel every ragged breath, every surge that brings him closer to me. Faster, deeper, my blood is boiling, my nails clutching at his back, but still, he doesn’t break his pace.
“Baby,” he groans, thrusting into me again, and hearing the need in his voice sends me soaring. I answer the only way I can, clenching around him, massaging him from the inside out, already feeling the shudder of release coiling low in my spine, the stardust beginning to shiver through my toes as Will takes me over the brink, the feel of him inside me so good, I can’t hold back.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, coming alive. “Fuck, please, don’t ever stop.”
Will captures my face in one hand, and then god, he’s watching me as I come undone. Those steady eyes, burning with passion, seeing right through me—all the way to my soul.
This man. God, this incredible man.
I give in to the rush, to how it feels, finally—to have him. To belong to someone. I see it all echoed right back in his expression as my body rises and I break apart for good, pleasure shattering through my body with a cry. Pure, sweet elation races through me, and then I feel him break apart with a shudder, clinging to me, our bodies surging together, over and over, until we’re spent and sweaty in each other’s arms.
I hold him, and for the first time in my life, I never want to let go.
Thirteen.
The world slips back slowly: the weight of him, the softness of his sheets, the porch light shining through the dark of the bedroom window. It’s the same place we were just a few minutes ago, but everything feels different now.
Will rolls to the side, and collapses with a groan. I smile; I can’t stop from beaming, feeling the incredible afterglow, and the pleasure still ebbing through my body.
“You alive over there?” I ask, echoing his question to me the other day. Will rumbles with laughter. He turns his head, and gives me a sleepy, worn-out grin.
“Barely,” he says, lazily trailing one hand over my stomach. I shiver, and he smiles. “You?”
I nod and scooch in closer, resting my head in the nook of his shoulder. I trace circles over his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow to a steady pace. He takes my hand, and brings it to his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, brushing hair from my eyes.
I flush, still giddy to hear it—and look in his eyes and know that he means every word. I’m not used to believing in a man, in all the flirting and pretty words that usually mean nothing at all.
“I know I must have seemed crazy, at dinner,” I tell him, swallowing hard. Will waits, watching me. “My dad . . . he cheated,” I admit quietly, explaining everything. “He left us for a while, for that other woman, until Mom took him back. And every time I see him, I just remember the lies . . .”
Will tenses beneath my hand.
“I know.” I stop him before he can interrupt. “I should forgive him. Mom has, and she’s the one he really betrayed. But I just can’t understand how she could ever trust him again.” I look at Will, feeling helpless. “How can she believe a single thing he ever says to her?”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Your father loves you, they both do. I can see it.”
“I know,” I sigh sadly. “I wish I could just let it go, but it’s hard.”
Will watches me. “Is that why you try so hard not to get involved with guys?”
I sit up, suddenly feeling way too exposed. “It’s just how I see the world, that’s all.”
Will leans in and kisses my back. “I’m not judging you.”
“Just psychoanalyzing me,” I reply, still tense.
“We all have our scars,” he says softly.
“Except you.” I turn, and give him a smile. “You seem to have everything figured out.”
Will looks away. “Not true.”
I shrug, feeling self-conscious. “This is why I warned you I was a lost cause.”
“Not lost,” he answers, looking up at me. “Just . . . searching. You can choose to be happy, you know,” he points out, sitting up and slipping his arms around me. “Not everything has to turn out like they did.”
“I know.” I don’t want to ruin this moment with the shadows of the past, not waste a single moment with him. I twist around, leaning in close to drop a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Can we not talk about it right now? I can think of a million better things to do . . .”
Will smiles. “Like what? Reading?”
“Mmmm, maybe . . .” I kiss along his collarbone.
“Sudoku,” Will suggests.
“Not quite,” I laugh, teasing my tongue up to his jaw. Will yanks me into his lap, so I’m straddling him, and bends his head to claim my mouth. “Gin rummy,” he murmurs into my mouth, and I silence him with a kiss, sliding my tongue to tangle with his as our bodies fuse closer. I rock my hips to bring me against his hardness, and Will makes a noise of pure desire. His hands slide up my waist, closing around each breast to stroke and toy and tease until my nipples are stiff and aching for his touch.
I squirm, impatient, that hollow need pulling at me again. “Condom?” I ask breathlessly, breaking the kiss.
“Nightstand. Drawer.” Will busies himself with caressing my bare shoulders, my hips as I reach across and grab one. I ease the rubber onto his stiff length, then position myself above him, straddling his lap. This time, I’m the one to make him groan as I brace myself against his shoulders sink down, taking him inside.
Yes.
I arch my back, god, feeling the fire consume me, his lush hardness invading every inch. Will grips my hips tighter, his eyes dark as I rise up again, holding the pace, then sinking back down. This time, I’m the one in control, and I take my time, rocking against him to feel the pressure between us, the sparks igniting just right. Will bends his head, licking over my breast and sucking my stiff nipple in his mouth. I let out a moan, rocking faster, feeling the imprint of his fingertips digging into my skin, and how his body thrusts up to fill me with every stroke. Deep. Deeper. God, it’s incredible, taking him like this: seeing the fire in his eyes and feeling that inferno take me over. I ride him, wild now, unleashed to the pleasure, until I almost can’t take it anymore.
“Baby,” Will grinds out, his mouth hot against my neck. “Come for me, baby.”
I whimper, slowing. I’m close, fuck, so close to the edge, but I can’t reach it, not yet. And then Will slips a hand between us, stroking possessively as he thrusts up inside, and my whole body explodes in a rush of sensation. I come hard, gasping in his arms as Will flips me back on the bed and surges inside me, hard. Deep. Oh god. I’m already reeling but he fucks me through my climax, and all I can do is hold on for dear life, shuddering with each new wave of pleasure as he cries out my name and falls with me into the rush.
*
The next time I wake, sunrise is streaming through the open drapes. Will lies passed out beside me, his face buried in the pillows, one arm slung across my body. He looks as relaxed as ever, even in his sleep, and I gently push hair from his eyes, struck by the unfamiliar ache in my chest. I remember how he held me last night; the feel of his body surging inside me, how I wanted to hold him so tightly and never let go.
I belong to him now.
Panic grips me, a sudden clawing in my veins. I want him too much. God, I already need him too much. But what happens now? What happens if he hurts me, or lies, or cheats and lets me down? How am I supposed to just put my heart on the line and blindly trust everything will be
OK when I’ve spent so many years determined to never take that risk?
My heart beats faster, but this time with an anxious rhythm. It’s too much, too soon. Will came crashing into my life barely a month ago, and now . . . ?
Now I’m falling in love with him.
The realization sinks through me, as unlikely as it is unfamiliar. Me. The queen of casual, no-strings, “never get involved” is falling headlong in love with William Wyatt Montgomery.
And even worse, I want it to happen. I want this to be different; I want so badly to believe everything he says.
But I don’t know how to do this part.
The panic claws deeper, restless, and something in me snaps. I slide out from under his arm and climb quietly out of bed. My underwear is strewn across the floor, and I wriggle into it as I tiptoe out of the room. My pulse thunders in a sick staccato beat as I hurry downstairs and find my dress in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs with my sandals and bag. Five seconds, and I’m dressed again and out the door, walking away in the cool morning air.
Running away, more like.
I walk fast down the track through the woods, my arms hugged tight around myself, and an epic battle waging in my head.
Every instinct in my body is telling me to leave—but there’s an ache in my heart with every step that takes me further away from Will. I don’t know what I’m doing, only that last night was different. Dangerous. I already revealed too much of myself, and it makes me cringe to remember how vulnerable I was with him.
How free.
I reach the turn to the main highway. A car passes by; I could go flag it down and hitchhike back to town, but instead, I watch it sail past. I sink back against the gatepost. Tears are stinging in the back of my throat, but I don’t even know why I’m crying. I should be on top of the world right now, but instead, all I feel is this panic galloping through me, driving me to get further away, just leave it all behind.
I need to get it together.
I force myself to take a deep breath, and another. The countryside is so quiet in the dawn light, just birds and the crickets sounding, and the far-away rush of the creek. Will is still probably passed out back at the house, smiling safe wrapped up in dreams.
But what about when he wakes up and finds me gone?
My heart aches to think of it. Bailing like this is a shitty move. Sure, I’ve done it before—that’s how it works, the morning after. Either he or I find a way to slip out unnoticed, to save us all the awkward morning-after small talk pretending like we’re actually going to see each other again. Except, I do want to see Will. I want to be with him right now, nestled in the warmth of his embrace, ready to kiss him good morning and make breakfast on his ridiculous back porch hot plate. It would be perfect, if only I let myself turn back around and take the chance.
What am I so scared of?
The trees rustle around me in a shifting sea of green. It’s beautiful out here, peaceful and calm, but I can’t ignore the turmoil raging inside me.
“You can choose to be happy . . .”
Will’s words circle in my mind. He makes it sound so simple, but is it really? Can I just choose to put aside years of building this safe, impenetrable wall around my heart, and make a different future—with him? I want it. God, I want it more than anything. But here I am, running away. Letting my own stupid fears and insecurities take me further away from the man I want, when I should be doing everything I can to stay with him.
Where I belong.
So what the hell am I doing?
I take one step, and then another, not towards the highway, but back to Will’s place. I walk faster, then break into a run, the breeze whipping around my bare legs as I hurry down the dirt track, my heart racing with every step. I just came close to making the biggest mistake of my life, and now I have to get back before Will wakes up and realizes I’ve gone.
I race up the driveway and silently let myself back inside. I go through to the makeshift kitchen, and scrounge up a can of instant coffee, heating water in a pan over the burner until I can brew something resembling a cup of joe. I take the two mugs and head upstairs, praying to god that Will’s still asleep and hasn’t even noticed my absence. But when I push open the bedroom door, I find him sitting up in bed: shirtless, scruffy, sleepy, and utterly gorgeous. I drink him in, relief crashing through me.
I made the right decision. I didn’t walk away.
Will looks up from his phone, and gives me a questioning smile. “Morning, beautiful. I was wondering where you were.”
“I needed my caffeine fix. Want some?” I ask brightly, walking over to the bed. “I did what I could with instant,” I tell him, handing him a mug and then climbing carefully into bed beside him. “But I don’t know how it turned out. We need to get you an espresso machine,” I add, my heart still pounding with a weird sense of unease.
Will slings an arm around my shoulders, and drops a kiss to my forehead, cuddling me close as he sips his coffee. “Did you make it far?” he asks at last.
My head whips around. “How did you . . . ?” I stop, my words trailing away under the tide of guilt. How doesn’t matter. Will he be mad at me? Hurt?
“To the highway,” I admit, feeling small. I brace myself for his disappointment, but instead, Will just leans back and gives a satisfied grin.
“You came back,” he says, sounding smug. “I knew once you’d had a real man, you couldn’t stay away.”
I snort with laughter, and hit him lightly in the stomach.
“Watch it!” Will protests, trying not to spill his coffee. He takes both our mugs and sets them on the nightstand, then pulls me into his lap. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” he says, his voice becoming more serious. “One night with me, and there’s no going back.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I pretend to roll my eyes, but inside, I’m smiling. “What can I say? You’re irresistible.”
I straddle him and cradle his face in my hands, feeling the scratch of his stubble. Will’s eyes are soft on mine, still searching. “I came back,” I repeat, and Will kisses me, long and slow. I melt into him, feeling the certainty take me over, savoring every touch.
This is where I’m supposed to be, right here in his arms.
I choose to be happy.
I choose him.
Fourteen.
Will
I could spend a whole day feasting on Delilah’s incredible body, but she drags herself out of bed before noon.
“I’ve got an open house,” she says, reaching for her underwear. “I’m already running late.”
“So skip it.” I pull her back against the edge of the bed, her skin silky smooth under my hands.
“I wish.” Dee flashes me a regretful smile. “But I need to prove myself while Marcie’s away, and these clients are getting desperate. They really need to sell, and I want to make it happen as soon as possible.”
There she goes, being so damn sweet again. She doesn’t even realize that good heart like hers is hard to find. I drop a kiss against her stomach, and feel her shiver.
God, I love the way she responds to me: every gasp, every touch. I tease lower, taking the lace of her panties between my teeth and tugging them away. My hands slide up her thighs, ready to peel them away, but Delilah lets out a reluctant sound, then dances out of reach.
“I can’t,” she says, her cheeks flushed. I arch an eyebrow, and she laughs. “I really can’t,” she insists again. “Later. I promise.”
I lay back, watching as she wriggles into the rest of her clothes and tries to comb her hair out with her fingers. Damn, she’s sexy. Framed there in the sunshine, her hair a tangled mess and her dress all crumpled from spending the night on my bedroom floor, she’s still so damn beautiful it takes my breath away. And even though I’ve had her two, three times already today, I want her all over again. Those luscious lips crying out my name, that sweet body clenched slick and whimpering around me.
Last night was incredible, and I’m just getting started. I know wha
t it’s like to please a woman, but fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that wild, animal lust before. It was intoxicating, such a primal need to possess her, every last inch. And when she was begging for me, moaning as I thrust inside her until she shattered in my arms . . . Lord, I’ve never felt so invincible.
Delilah looks over. “What?” she asks, catching my stare.
“Nothing.” I gaze back, satisfied. I’ve got that morning-after feeling like sweet molasses in my limbs, the kind of satisfaction you only get after a good work-out.
A real good work-out.
“I’m just planning all the ways I’m going to make you come.”
She laughs. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she warns, giving up and scooping her hair into a topknot.
“You can bet on it.”
I drive her home, as she anxiously checks the time and sends half a dozen texts, already thinking about work again. “I’ll be done around four, see you after?” she asks as I walk her to the door. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek then reaches for her keys.
“No you don’t,” I grab her hand and pull her back, laughing. “That’s not a goodbye kiss,” I correct her. “This is.”
I back her up against the door and claim her lips again, kissing her slow and deep this time, until she’s melting back in my arms. Every lush curve, every gasp; I run my hands over her body and damn if she doesn’t arch against my hands, wanting more. It doesn’t matter that we’re standing on her front step in broad daylight, for anyone to see, suddenly I’m gripped with that primal need to take her all over again.
Shielding her body from view, I slide one hand over her breast, cupping and squeezing until the nipple peaks, stiff in my palm. Delilah moans into my mouth, pressing eagerly against the hardness already rock-solid in my jeans. I slide my hand lower, slipping it between her thighs to press and stroke, right there. She tears her lips from mine in surprise.
