Let Loose for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  I slowly move my hands up and down, not sure what I’m doing exactly since I’ve only done this a few times. Brant never liked much foreplay, and I never offered. The whole act intimidated me.

  With Ty, I’m more than just intimidated. I’m terrified he won’t like it, especially given his experience.

  But this is Ty.

  The guy who made me feel indestructible the last time we were together.

  I move my hand to cup his balls, his rapid breaths giving me the encouragement I need to continue.

  Scooting forward on the couch, I lean toward him until I slowly take him in my mouth. I wrap my lips around him until I feel him in the back of my throat and my eyes water.

  “Oh, yes… yes, baby.” Ty runs his hand through my hair, while the other grips my shoulder.

  His abs tighten as my head bobs slowly, adjusting to the size of him.

  I feel his moans and strong hold of my hair in my bones. I feel him everywhere as I pick up my pace, and he rocks his hips in sync with me.

  The corners of my mouth ache from the width of him, as they do when smiling too much for pictures. But I don’t stop, not with his heavy pants exciting me. I’m doing that to him.

  I’m making him feel good.

  Giving him pleasure.

  “Fuck,” he says with conviction as he pulls out of my mouth, his hand still in my hair. “I’m not coming until you do,” he growls.

  Sitting down, he pulls me on top of him. My breath hitches at the way his chest rapidly moves up and down, his tattoos stretching with every heaving breath. My body comes alive at how much I’m affecting this sexy man.

  Makes me feel sexy in return, something I’d lost after Brant cheated on me.

  I thought he took that power away from me, but Ty is making me realize I always had it.

  Moving my hips forward, I reach between us with my hand to position him at my entrance—my very wet entrance. He grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, and instead of pushing down immediately on him, I tease his tip, rubbing it along my desperate heat.

  His jaw tightens before he squeezes his eyes shut. “Wait, wait.”

  I freeze, as he reaches to the floor, holding me in place with one strong, tattooed arm around my waist. Coming back up, he tears a condom wrapper with his teeth, lighting me on fire.

  The animalistic way he rips it open.

  The urgency in his movements.

  I grab the condom from him and roll it on him myself. He squirms beneath me, the veins in his neck visible as he tries to restrain himself. His normally bright blue eyes darken as lust clouds them.

  The way he’s looking at me, his body taut and smooth and sweaty—it’s all driving me crazy. I let the sensations take over and sink down on him, taking him inch by inch until he fills me completely. With a gasp, I bring his hands to my breasts and rock my hips back and forth.

  “Fucking perfect, Em.” He watches me, admires me, as he massages my breasts. It’s not gentle nor painful. It’s somewhere in between.

  It’s perfect.

  He doesn’t move his hips, allowing me to control the speed, and the power within me grows, making me feel like a sex queen when I’m anything but.

  His eyes never shut. His hooded gaze watches me moving on top of him while he kneads my breasts simultaneously. Leaning forward with the tension inside me building, I need more. Gripping him by his shoulders, I move my hips all the way up and down, taking all of him over and over.

  He hisses a curse, crushing his lips to mine, hungry for me.

  Our teeth clash.

  Our tongues fight for more.

  That’s what does me in—his kiss. His greedy tongue seeking mine, his hands fisting my hair, his muscles flexed. I come with him inside me, my hips jerking as my climax courses through my entire body, numbing my toes. What comes out of my mouth isn’t soft or gentle, but raw and passionate.

  And very loud.

  I’m so loud as my body continues trembling, which only intensifies when Ty wraps his arms around my waist, his face smashed between my breasts.

  He quickly finds his own release with a grunt and a squeeze around my body.

  I’m suffocating from his hold on me—the physical and emotional one.

  Because when he peers up at me with those shiny blue eyes and says what he says next, I’m definitely in deep trouble. “We’re doing that again and again, until neither of us can fucking walk, let alone make it to the gym.” He licks his bottom lip, his tongue leaving a whisper against my chest like he’s talking directly to what’s underneath. “I want you backward and sideways and everything in between, Em.”

  Then he places a soft kiss between my breasts, his five o’clock shadow tickling my skin, sending warmth through my entire body. Only Ty can make me feel fuzzy and turned on at the same time.

  I take a deep breath at his words, unable to register what I’m getting myself into with him. The elation from the longest orgasm I’ve ever experienced—even better than the ones he gave me in Vegas—and his body and his words while he remains inside me… it all clouds my judgment and muffles what I’m feeling underneath.

  CHAPTER 33

  Ty

  “The food is cold now, but it’ll do.” She sets my plate on the coffee table in front of me. “Eat up.”

  “You sure know the way to a man’s—”

  “Don’t be crude.”

  “I was going to say heart.” I gaze at her from where I sit on the floor in front of the couch, my energy low as I come down off this high. “But dick too.”

  She shoves my shoulder, but she can’t hide her blush. “I said not to be crude.”

  “Please. After what we just did, I can’t say dick? You can admit you like being bad.”

  Her nose scrunches up, and I fight my urge to laugh. She’s adorable—a real good girl. And I’ve had no problem teaching her to live on the wild side.

  “Just eat your food, okay?”

  I open my mouth to make another crude joke, but my phone buzzes on the coffee table. As soon as I read the name flashing on my screen, I swipe it off the table like it’s a bomb, knocking it off to the side and hope Emma didn’t see it.

  “Who’s Naomi?”

  Damn. Busted.

  I move my eggs around on my plate, deciding my next words carefully as I figure out how much to tell Emma. She’s not ready for that part of my life. More accurately, I’m not ready to share it with her.

  This thing between Emma and me is casual. It’s what I promised her. And my deal with her is one I have to keep, for her own sake.

  I clear my throat. “No one. She’s called a few times lately, but I told her she has the wrong number. Refuses to quit.” I shrug, then shovel a forkful of pancake in my mouth. “Damn girl, you make a mean pancake. What did you do to it? Sneak a cup of sugar in there?”

  She studies me curiously, and I hold my breath, hoping she accepts my lie and change of subject. I’m relieved when she says, “Actually, I used my very own sweet finger to mix it up.”

  “I knew there was something special about you.”

  She laughs, but it’s not real. Like she doesn’t believe she’s special.

  And it breaks my heart.

  “Tell me something,” she says after she swallows a bite, the TV low in the background. “Teach me how to say something in Samoan.”

  I take a sip of coffee, my heart sinking even more but for other reasons. With a deep breath, I push my food around on my plate. “Like what?”

  “Like, ‘The weather’s nice today.’”

  Once I share it with her, the words feel unfamiliar—it’s been a while, after all. My dad was big into our culture growing up, but after what happened with my sister, we all distanced ourselves from each other and anything normal.

  Emma pulls me out of my deep thoughts with the way she repeats the line.

  Somehow she sounds Irish.

  After a few more bites, she timidly asks, “Do you like stripping?”

  I lick my lips
, tasting the leftover peanut butter I’d smeared on my pancake. “I do.”

  “Oh.” Her fork scratching against her plate makes me cringe.

  “I think it’s more about the brotherhood, the bond we share. I haven’t had that in a long time. The sense of belonging. I’m not close with my family. I used to be with my sister, but…” I pause, noticing the dark tone the conversation has taken. “Plus, I’m really good at it, and the ladies love me, so what’s not to like?”

  Her expression is pained. I catch a glimpse of it right before she looks down, and I immediately feel guilty. It’s hard for me to break those habits.

  She sets her plate on the coffee table like she’s lost her appetite and wipes her hands on a paper towel, careful not to get any crumbs anywhere.

  “Our deal is still valid. I wasn’t kidding before.”

  She curls into the couch right by my head, and I crane my neck to take her in. “What about all the ladies? What will they do?”

  Holding her wrist, I forget about my food and focus on her. “They’ll just have to wait their turn.”

  Her face twists. I was trying to make it better with the only way I know how—joking—but it’s not working. When will I learn to stop putting my foot in my mouth?

  She picks up her coffee, the steam billowing, so she blows on it. I watch her mouth form a small O as she does so. I need those perfect lips on my body again, even though I just had her.

  I set my plate on the table with a clink next to hers. Sitting with her on the couch, I take the coffee from her so I can see her gorgeous face, especially those lips. “Emma, please don’t read into this so much.”

  Her glare toward her coffee in my hand stops me.

  “What?”

  “Give me back my cup.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She holds her hand out toward the mug in my hand, but I pull away, confused. She was just pissed when I was talking about other women, and now she’s pissed I took her coffee?

  “Ty, give it to me.”

  I hum low, a small smile spreading across my lips. “Say that again, but this time, take your shirt off before you do.”

  “If you don’t give me my coffee back right now, that’ll be enough for me to call this whole damn thing off.” She points between us, dead serious. Like she’s talking about disaster training instead of a simple cup of coffee.

  “This coffee right here?” I bring the mug to my lips, then take a sip. Her nostrils flare, likely debating how badly she wants to jump on me but can’t risk spilling dark liquid on her light couch. She might have a stroke if that happened.

  I’ve never seen her this worked up over a hot beverage, and I can’t help but tease her even more.

  “That’s it. Get out.”

  “No,” I challenge.

  “I told you I don’t fucking share when it comes to guys, and I definitely don’t share when it comes to my coffee or food. Now hand it over, or get out.”

  A small shiver courses through my body, the thrill of riling Emma up. It’s what makes me feel alive these days when I’ve felt like I was drowning all these years.

  My gaze travels down her reddening neck to her heaving chest. Her breathing seems to slow once my gaze settles back on her lips. “Let’s make another deal.”

  “Yeah, no touching my coffee, or joking about it, either.”

  “As scintillating as your idea is, I think I have something better.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Emma

  “I’m not doing that.” I fold my arms, staring at my cup of coffee in his hand, disappointed that it’s getting cold. But I’d rather drink cold coffee than have to try to scrub it out of this blush couch. Otherwise, I would’ve tackled Ty to the ground for it already.

  So I wait.

  But Ty’s idea for a deal is not for me.

  “Why? It’ll be so hot.”

  “You think everything is hot.”

  “Hmm… usually true.” He takes another sip of my coffee. I lurch forward, but I’m too late. He sees me coming and grabs my wrist. “But this coffee is definitely not hot, so we better come to an agreement really quickly.”

  “And this is what you pick? Fine. But what do I get in return? Because this is way bigger than coffee.”

  “Watching Annabelle is way bigger than coffee? You hate horror movies that badly?”

  “Yes. They give me nightmares.”

  “I’ll hold you afterward. Naked cuddles, of course. That’s the hot part.” He winks at me, and I can’t deny it would be nice to be held. He’s large and feels secure when he has his arms around me.

  I had the best sleep of my life last night because he was in my bed.

  “Okay. But now you have to go warm my coffee up.”

  “What if I warm you up? The sound of naked cuddles is way better.” He scoots closer to me, his gaze traveling up and down my whole body before settling on my cleavage. My tank does nothing to contain my breasts, which is why I put it on.

  For him.

  For his hungry gaze.

  I crave it like he craves making jokes. Making light of every situation. But I know there’s more to it—a darkness exists underneath. When Naomi’s name flashed on his phone, he tensed, making me wonder if it was, in fact, no one like he said. I didn’t push the matter because it’s not my place. This is casual.

  I’m sticking to our deal for both our sakes.

  I lean forward, playing his little seduction game. This is my chance to learn a thing or two. God, what am I saying? Learn how to be a slut?

  I inwardly groan but lean forward, nonetheless.

  I’ve been good, boring even, most of my life, and now it’s time I enjoy it.

  I trace my forefinger down his jaw, neck, then chest. His heart beats erratically. I have a joke about him having a heart on the tip of my tongue, but when his gaze intensifies on me, I know this is not a time for jokes.

  Quite the opposite.

  He wraps my hand in his own and holds it there, against his chest. His expression twists like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

  Not with his mouth, anyway.

  “Come here,” he whispers, like he’s afraid of me, and it makes my heart swell.

  Because I feel the same way.

  When I kiss him, my body ignites. His warm mouth feels right on mine, his hard body even better beneath me when he pulls me on top of him. My confidence grows the more his nostrils flare.

  “You win,” I whisper against his lips, taking the mug from him and setting it on the table behind me.

  I go back to kissing him, clawing at his shirt to remove it.

  Taking advantage of this quiet apartment.

  But then my phone rings from the kitchen counter, pulling me out of my stupor. “Shit!”

  “What?” His eyelids lazily open and close.

  I check the time on the stove. “That’s probably Kendall. My class is in thirty minutes.”

  “Like thirty minutes from now?” He squirms in his seat as I climb off of him. “Right now, right now?”

  I roll my eyes, enjoying his discomfort, and he groans, leaning his head back against the couch.

  “Okay, but we have a date later. Annabelle night.”

  Now I’m the one who groans.

  I rush off, running around the apartment like it’s on fire, but I don’t leave before Ty gives me another heated kiss, holding my head in place like he wants to make sure I’m hot and bothered until I see him again.

  It works.

  He winks when he pulls back, then smacks my ass on our way out.

  Later that night, Ty comes back over, cuddling me like we’re having a romantic date, even though a demented doll is on the screen. He keeps his end of the bargain and holds me tightly throughout the movie, squeezing me during every scene when the door to the closet is creaked open enough to see the chair rocking back and forth, the doll unmoving.

  Sure enough, I can’t sleep afterward, but it’s okay. Ty told me he’s not much of a sleeper, e
ither, mumbling something about his own nightmares as he reaches across me to grab water off the nightstand.

  But he changes the subject just as quickly. We stay like this all night, wrapped in each other’s arms, mumbling to each other about the movie before we talk about college and what weird foods he likes. We stick to safe topics, laughing into the wee hours of the night.

  We keep it casual.

  Even so, for many nights in a row, I curled into a ball, alone and lonely. For once, with Ty taking up most of my small bed, I finally feel comfortable here again.

  I’m content, even if it is short-lived.

  CHAPTER 35

  Ty

  I roll over to face her, not knowing what time it is. It’s late into the night and I need sleep, but I don’t want to stop talking to Emma. Her soft voice and twinkling eyes are comforting in a way I’ve never experienced. “How come your accent isn’t as strong as Kendall’s? Aren’t you both from Alabama?”

  She turns to me, her cleavage more pronounced and taunting as she rests on her side. While I wait for her answer, I soak in her coconut scent like I would the smoke of an expensive cigar, wanting to bottle it up and save it for when I go back to Vegas.

  For when we stop this little charade.

  She works her bottom lip back and forth between her teeth, toying with the tattoos on my chest. Then she moves on top of me. Straddling me, she runs her hands up and down my naked abs, peering up at me seductively.

  I squirm, adjusting myself under the covers, my senses heightened.

  “I am from Alabama, born and raised.” She nudges the covers down and plays with the waistband of my Calvin Klein boxer briefs, making me squirm further. I fight to focus on what she’s saying. Her lips are swollen from our kissing all night; she’s going to make me pass out from lust. “Growing up, we traveled a lot.” Her voice drops to a whisper, and she lowers her head. “Traveled all over the US and Europe. I studied abroad one semester too. Guess a Southern accent never stuck.”

  She places kisses on my neck, teasing me with her gestures and words. How can a girl make such a simple conversation so fucking sexy?

  Goddamn, this is no ordinary girl.