by R. C. Martin
“Enough,” I bite, standing to my feet, towering over her. For reasons I don’t even care to understand, my patience snaps when she speaks of her love. Those words are mine—they belong to me—not the fucking general public.
“Holy shit,” Diana mumbles.
When I look at her, her eyes are bouncing between Teddy and me. I don’t acknowledge her with anything more than a glance. As I reach for my wallet, I shift my gaze back to Teddy, just in time to see a single tear rush down her cheek before she declares, “You’re an asshole.”
I toss a a few bills on the bar as she begins to turn away, and I catch her around the arm. She gasps when I draw her flush against me.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Home!” she cries, pushing her fists against me in a feeble attempt to be set free.
“Think again, sweetheart.”
Without another word, I grab my jacket from where it hangs over the back of my stool, and I lead her out of the bar. She’s coming with me. There’s no way in hell I’m taking no for an answer—and this time, I mean it.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” she argues as we approach my car.
“Stop lying to yourself. Get in,” I counter, opening up the passenger side door for her.
“Why won’t you answer me? What are you doing here? Why were you with her? Were you going to take her home with you? If I hadn’t shown up—”
“Stop,” I demand. I’ve heard more than enough, and every word that comes out of her mouth heightens my rage. “We’ve been over this. I have a sexual history. Deal with it, sweetheart. It won’t fucking change. What you just walked in on was a conversation—I have those from time to time. But this—” I pause, grabbing her hand and forcing it against the hard-on currently trying the seam of my pants. “This is for you. You—not her. Now get in the goddamn car.”
I don’t know why I listen, but I do.
Wait. No. That’s not true.
I know exactly why I listen, why I sink down into the passenger seat of his Porsche; why I let him close me inside; why I don’t say a word as he gets in and pulls out of the parking spot, speeding towards home. I’m a mess, and I don’t know what to make of the last five minutes, but I want him.
I want him so much, I don’t know how to say no.
My God, this man—he was not made to be resisted.
We don’t speak a word the entire ride to his place. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but for the ten minutes it takes to reach our destination, I focus all my attention on my attempt to keep my tears at bay. The blow of walking in and seeing him with that blonde, the same one I saw leaving his house after the night he stood me up, still stings. I know he said that they were just talking, but should I believe that? Given his history with her, can I believe that?
He pulls into his garage and shuts us in before climbing out of the car. He doesn’t speak, but I know he expects me to follow him, so I do. My eyes are glued to his back, and I can’t help but notice the light grey button-down he’s got on clinging to his broad shoulders. I can practically feel the tension I see there.
I take two steps into the house, and then everything shifts. Before I know what’s happening, he spins around to face me, his big hands gripping my waist as he lifts me up and forces my back against the wall. He presses his body firmly against mine, guiding my legs around his waist before he smashes his mouth over mine. Instinct beckons me to cling to him, parting my lips so that I might taste the man that I love. He grunts, sweeping his tongue through my mouth, and my sudden arousal almost makes me forget that he hurt me.
Almost.
“Stop,” I mutter, grabbing hold of his shoulders and forcing him back. “Judah—”
“We’re not talking about this. There’s nothing more to discuss. I wasn’t going to fuck her.”
“But—”
“You’re the one I want. Nothing’s changed,” he mutters, tightening his grip around my thighs. “No more talking.”
This time, when he kisses me, his mouth angry and unrelenting, I’m powerless to stop him.
I kiss her long and hard, working to make it absolutely clear that this is our conversation. When her fingers grip two fistfuls of my hair, tugging just slightly, I know I’ve got her right where I want her. I slide my palms over her ass, holding her up as I pull her away from the wall. I then clap my hand against her jean-clad backside, signaling her to get down.
“Let go,” I mumble into her mouth, my lips still grazing hers. She obeys, sliding down my chest. As soon as her feet are on the ground, my hands make quick work of the button and the zipper that stand in my way. She moans, her arms still wrapped around me, her lips desperately seeking mine as I rip her jeans and panties down her legs. Without a word, she holds onto me as she steps out of the obstructive clothing, leaving her Toms behind as well. When I return to my full height, she’s forced to let me go—but her hands don’t hesitate to reach for my belt as she attempts to help me undress.
By the time I’ve rid my neck of my tie, my fly is down, and that’s all I need. I pull out my stiff cock and then reach for Teddy, holding on to the back of her legs as I spread her open. Slowly, I penetrate her entrance, pinning her back against the wall, and she sighs.
It’s the sound of her surrender—and it’s heavenly.
This. Right here. This is what I want. This is what I crave.
Just us.
I pull out and then slam back in, eliciting a hungry groan from out of her sweet mouth. I grunt in reply, ramming into her fast and hard. Soon, the hallway is filled with nothing more than the sound of heavy breaths, greedy moans, and the heady scent of sex. Sweat trickles down my back and chest, seeping through my undershirt. Her skin glistens as well, and I reach up to grab a fistful of hair, pulling her head back to expose the delicate skin of her fine neck. She whimpers as I run my tongue from just above her shirt, all the way to her ear. I bite down on her lobe, and her legs tighten around me, her hands groping and grabbing me where they may.
“Judah!”
“What do you need, sweetheart? Hmm?” I mutter, nibbling the side of her jaw.
“Harder,” she breathes. “I want more of you—I need all of you, Jude! Please—show me.”
A growl crawls its way from my throat as I pound into her, holding back nothing as I finally unleash the beast she’s turned me into. Every bit of irritation, every bit of anger, every bit or resentment that I felt today is released as I ravage her against the wall. Then, when my eyes meet hers, something else inside of me snaps. Suddenly, every thrust isn’t just a means to a much needed release. It’s not just about this fight. It’s not just about Diana or Geoff—it’s about everything. It’s about every goddamn thing she’s made me feel since the moment I laid eyes on her. It’s about how she’s turned me into a fucking a fool—something I swore no woman would ever do again.
I grit my teeth, taking both of her hands and pinning them on the wall above her head. I no longer want her touch—I want her to feel mine. I want to fuck her like she’s completely fucked me. She whimpers once more, her eyes filling with tears. When a few trickle down her cheeks, I don’t bother to stop, knowing I’m seconds away from getting off—knowing that I will get her there, too.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” I mutter, pressing my forehead against hers. “Come for me,” I repeat, dropping a hand between us. As soon as my thumb grazes her clit, she starts to tremble. Within seconds, her tight pussy clenches around me and she screams as I spill my release inside of her.
I don’t pull out of her right away. Instead, we stay locked together, both of us gasping for air. After a moment, I free her hands, reaching up with my own to wipe away her tears. She watches me but doesn’t speak. I can still feel her trembling, and concern quiets the animal inside of me.
“Did I hurt you?” She doesn’t answer at first, causing me to frown at her. “Answer me, Teddy.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers.
“Did I hurt you?”
I stare at her for a moment. My shy girl. My breakable girl. I know, now, that it’s time to put her back together again. I kiss her lips softly before sliding my hands around her back, holding her close. She rests her cheek on my shoulder as I toe my way out of my shoes and step out of my pants. My dick still buried deep, I carry her down the hall, entering my bedroom and heading straight for the bathroom, setting her on the counter beside the sink.
After I pull out, I strip the rest of my clothes off, tossing them in the hamper before I grab a clean wash cloth.
“Did you call her?” she speaks, halting my movements.
I scowl at her, wondering why—after the orgasm she just had—why she thinks such a question is relevant.
“No,” I answer flatly.
“So…you two, together—that was just a coincidence?”
I shake my head, scrubbing my hand down my face before I reply, “Call it whatever you want, Teddy.”
“But—”
I close the distance between us, gripping her chin as I tilt her head up so I can see straight into her eyes. “Our rules of exclusivity haven’t changed. Have I made myself clear?” I ask point blank, tired of her accusations. I’ve done nothing wrong.
She offers me a nod and I seal the conversation closed with a firm kiss to her lips. When I pull away, I help her undress, soak the cloth in warm water, and wring it out before I gently wipe her pussy clean. She hisses when I make contact with her sensitive flesh, and my eyes meet hers instantly. She bites down on her lower lip, as if apologizing for her discomfort.
“I warned you I wouldn’t always be gentle,” I remind her, tossing aside the rag. “But I will always be generous.” I squat in front of her, draping one of her legs over my shoulder. I then take hold of her opposite ankle, lifting her foot until it’s curled around the counter’s edge, leaving her wide open for me.
“Jude…what are you doing?”
“I’m about to eat my woman’s cunt. Relax, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in a minute.”
She sucks in a breath with the first swipe of my tongue, and the moan that follows ensures me that it’s not pain she’s focused on right now. I tease her entrance, coaxing her arousal, and then suck her clit into my mouth. When she utters my name on a sigh, reaching down to slide her fingers into my hair, I’m sure of two things.
When I make her come, all else will be forgotten.
When I make her come, victory will be mine.
As I sit propped up on the couch, leaning against the arm rest, his head resting in my lap as he sleeps, I can’t help but be amused at how my week has turned out. Monday night, I was all by myself, restless with loneliness. Tuesday night, I was fighting with my boyfriend. And then not fighting with my boyfriend, until my body could endure not one more moment of pleasure. Wednesday night, I dined out with my best friend, showering him with my full attention. And tonight? Tonight, yet another man has claimed me.
I run my fingers through Steven’s rich, dark hair, the strands so silky and soft I can’t help but be a little jealous. He’s been asleep for a couple hours now, and I know I should take him up to his bed, but I don’t want to. He looks so precious, just the way that he is. I want to enjoy his sweetness for a little while longer.
When Andrew asked me to fill in for Steven’s regular sitter, who called in sick a couple hours before he and Carrie were meant to go out, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve hung out with their little guy, and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity. At five, he’s a ball full of energy, and he had me chasing after him from the moment I walked in the door. I’m pretty sure we played every single board game in his collection once before dinner, and then we built the best Lego castle he had ever seen—three times—after dinner. While he soaked in a tub full of bubbles, I ran around the house, picking up our mess, and then I dressed him in his pajamas and we came to the couch to watch the half an hour of television he’s allowed to indulge in every evening. He was asleep within fifteen minutes of his program.
Now, as I look down at him, a pang of sadness fills my chest. I know that I will never run my fingers through the hair of my own child. Somehow, this moment—right now—feels painfully important; like I’ll never know the innocent bond of a five-year-old more intimately than I know it right now.
I still can’t say for sure if having children was something that I longed for. I suppose I’ll never know. Not really. My inability to have them has tainted my desires, and I can’t decipher the ache in my chest. I don’t know if I’m sad because the choice was ripped from me, or because the possibility was.
Sometimes, if I really stop and think about it, I remember that, when the time comes, I will have options—adoption being one of them. But my head isn’t ready for those decisions; I’m not equipped for them. I’m twenty-three years old, and having children has been so far off my radar, I’m overwhelmed even just mourning the loss of my fertility. I wonder if the way I’m feeling will ever go away, or if being around children will always make me question what could have been. I wonder if, with age, my pain will take a different shape. Now, I suppose, this is just part of who I am—part of my identity as a woman.
I’m jostled from my thoughts when I jerk in surprise at the feel of a gentle hand on my shoulder. The hand I have buried in Steven’s hair stills, and my grip around his little body tightens before I hear Carrie’s voice.
“Did he give you a hard time about going to sleep in his bed?”
“Oh,” I sigh, relieved and a little guilty. “No. This is my fault, entirely. I just wanted his company,” I reply, tilting my head back to smile up at her.
She returns my smile, her eyes drifting down to gaze at her son. The motherly expression on her face screams of her love, and the ache in my chest increases. I try my best to shove my feelings aside, shifting my focus as I look for Andrew.
“Did you guys have a nice time?”
“Yes,” she answers. I can hear the smile in her voice and my eyes look for hers once more. “It was nice to have my husband to myself for a few hours. He’s been working so hard, getting ready for this exhibition. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for him, and so very proud of all that he’s done to pull this together, but I’ll be glad when it’s behind us.”
“Hey, how was he?” asks Andy as he finally enters the room. When he spots Steven resting across my lap, he narrows his eyes at me. “Did he give you a hard time about going to sleep in his bed?”
I can’t help but giggle as I shake my head at him, amused by the echo of Carrie’s question.
“No. He was great. He fell asleep while we were watching TV. I didn’t want to move him.”
Andy nods as he bends down to scoop up his little man. “I’ll take him up and tuck him in. Thanks for watching him, Teddy.”
“Any time.”
He kisses his wife on the cheek in passing, telling her he’ll meet her upstairs, and she murmurs her reply before she comes to sit down beside me. “I know it’s getting late, but you don’t have to rush off, do you?”
“Um, no. I guess not,” I reply with a shrug. “Are you sure you don’t want to…?” I let my sentence trail off, feeling too embarrassed to finish it. Nevertheless, something tells me, so long as Steven is a sleep, date night isn’t over.
“I’ll only keep you for a minute,” she assures me with a soft laugh. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had a proper chat with you. We’ll have to get together for a coffee date soon. For now, though—while I have you—it would be remiss of me not to ask how things are going with you and Judah. So, how are things going with you and that tall glass of water?”
I sigh, leaning my head back against the couch cushion as I look up at the ceiling. It’s been almost three months since that man walked into my world and demanded my attention; almost three months since he so brazenly invited me into his bed. I never in my wildest dre
ams imagined that I would one day come to know him as intimately as I do now; that I would physically ache for him on the nights that I lay alone in my own bed. I would never have guessed that such a gorgeous man would doggedly pursue me, making me fall head-over-heels in love with him. In a matter of mere months, he’s changed my life completely, and I know it’ll never be the same. I’ll never be the same.
“He’s—” I start and then I stop, trying to think of how best to describe the man who holds my heart. “He’s everything, Carrie,” I whisper. “He’s everything I didn’t know he could be. Everything I didn’t know I wanted. Everything I didn’t know I needed.”
“How do you mean?” She shifts next to me, and I lift my head to see her as she faces me directly, offering me her undivided attention.
“He’s brilliant—honestly, his mind is intimidating in and of itself. He’s so good at what he does, at everything he does. I don’t know,” I mutter, shaking my head as I try and gather my thoughts. “It’s like he knows who he is and what he’s capable of. He’s confident in his identity and he owns it. He doesn’t pretend to be something or someone that he isn’t, so what he gives you is completely genuine.
“He’s not a particularly soft man. That’s not to say that he can’t be gentle, because he can be. He’s thoughtful and sweet in his own way, but definitely not like I thought I might one day want. What he gives me is better. I don’t know that I can explain it better than that. I just—he makes me feel things, incredible things, and I’m really happy, Carrie. Really happy.”
She smiles at me, reaching over to squeeze my knee affectionately. “Sounds to me like things are pretty serious.”
“Yeah,” I answer with a slight nod. “I mean, I think so.”
Carrie arches a questioning eyebrow at me before she asks, “You think so? You’re not sure?”
“Well…”
