by Alex Wolf
I can’t remember feeling this happy. Guilt slams into me because of Mom, but also because I can’t really remember feeling this happy before I heard about Mom too. I shouldn’t be this happy right now, it’s not right, even though I know my mom would want me here and not in her house, moping around.
I’m just…
I don’t know what I am right now, but I know if I don’t find a way to order all these feelings, it’s going to be bad. Really bad.
“Have a seat.”
I don’t hesitate and walk over to my little two-seat table, even though I never use it. It’s literally there just in case I ever have someone over, and so the room looks like someone actually lives here.
I watch Covington, in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, continue to cook like he was born behind a stove. The food doesn’t even register, because this is the first time I’ve gotten a really good look at his body.
He’s tall.
Very tall.
But he’s not weird and lanky or huge and bulky. He is long and lean, like an Olympic swimmer. His muscles flex and contract with the tiniest movements, and not going to lie, it’s hot. He’s hot, like something out of a museum. Like he was sculpted by an Italian master.
How the hell did his brains and that body end up with the same person? It’s really not fair to the rest of humanity.
There’s a cup of coffee waiting for me when I sit down, and I take a sip. Covington walks over after flipping a spatula around and filling up two plates. He makes a show of setting my plate in front of me.
“Fried pork strips, griddlecakes, and eggs ala Covington with fresh pepper for the lady.”
I crack up because he’s being as pretentious as he possibly can on purpose. It’s regular bacon and eggs with some pancakes. I can see the package he must’ve gone to the store to pick up.
He sets his plate down in his spot, and says, “Same for the gentleman.”
But then, he leans over, like he always does. He loves whispering things in my ear, and some of it last night was the filthiest things a man has ever said to me. What’s worse? I liked it—a lot.
Covington exhales across my neck, and it sends goosebumps all over my body again.
“Though afterward, I’ll be having your pussy.”
He is so crude, and I’m not sure why I like it so much. The worst part is, I can’t just sit there and act surprised. Oh no, I have to always hit back, even when it’s to my detriment.
“Don’t know if you have a big enough appetite.” I turn my head and smirk at him.
In a flash, his hand is down the sheets I’m wrapped in, and his fingers are on me again. The way he looks at me, I’m not sure if he’s ever going to let me out of his sight now. What have I gotten myself into?
You love every second of this.
“Trust me.” He glances down at his hand and wets his bottom lip with his tongue, just barely. “I’ll save room.”
“Why wait?” I reach over for his dick and squeeze it over his briefs.
His jaw ticks, and I swear a groan catches in his throat. He hardens instantly against my palm, and holy shit, I’m still not sure how this thing fit inside me last night. I hadn’t had sex in a long time.
Before he says anything, I adjust and reach down the front of the briefs, then pull his dick out. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so forward with a man before. Something about Covington, though, it just feels like a giant sexual fantasy, where I can do whatever the hell I want. Isn’t a good partner supposed to make you feel that way? Like this is how it should always be?
I stroke him a couple times, back and forth, and I start to lean forward to put him in my mouth, when a hand snakes up into my hair and pulls my head back. It feels phenomenal, and I don’t think I’ve ever had a man pull my hair like this.
Our eyes meet, locked together, as usual. He looks like he’s studying me for an exam, and then he just kisses me. It’s not like a super-hot, passionate kiss either. It’s like two people who have lived together for ten years kiss. It’s an I care about you more than anything, you make me so happy kind of kiss.
It takes me by surprise, but it’s really nice. It’s emotional, even. My heart warms as his lips press to mine, and I just feel safe, and perfect, like everything in the world is going to be just fine because his lips are on mine.
When we part ways, he reaches up and lifts me out of the sheets and against his chest. My legs wrap around him as our bodies press together. I’ve never had this kind of view of my apartment, and wow, is this what the world looks like to him every day from way up here?
Covington carries me out of the kitchen and into the living room. At some point I let go of his dick, but my legs wrap around his waist and I can feel it, right where I want it.
It pushes up against me, and for a second, the head of his dick slips in and out.
It felt even better than when he wore the condom, but I don’t give a shit how right the moment feels. He’s going to be safe.
Without missing a beat, as if he can read my thoughts, he sets me down on the couch and says, “Don’t fucking move.”
I grin a little, and I’m pretty sure once he’s around the corner, he sprints to my room. Either that, or he cleared the distance in two of his long strides, because he’s back in the blink of an eye.
“Sorry to kill the mood.”
He reaches down and fists the back of my hair again.
“Mood’s back,” I say almost instantly.
Covington grins like the damn devil himself, I swear. There’s something with him. Something about him. He’s so damn alpha, but somehow, it still feels like I’m in control, like I could do whatever I wanted.
Most guys, in my experience, just kind of flop around for a few minutes then roll over and fall asleep. Even the promising ones are not that great in bed, they just have other qualities that allow you to overlook the shortcoming.
Not so in this case.
“You think you can just pull my hair whenever you want to?” I pretend to glare at him, hoping this is how he wants me to react. Hoping he wants me to pretend to put up a fight.
Covington flips me over, so my ass is in the air, and it’s a little ridiculous how fast he can do it. My heart pounds the second he does it, and my breaths become shallow. My adrenaline spikes off the charts, and I’m wet for him. No denying that.
Good God, when he went down on me for the first time… I’ve never had an orgasm like that. The one when he was inside me too. Never. I’ve never even given myself one that good.
“Let’s make quick work of this, before breakfast gets cold.”
“So romant—”
I can’t finish the phrase because his mouth is on me from behind. I’ve never had a man want to go down on me this much, ever. The tip of his tongue teases my clit, and my legs already start to tremble.
He rolls his tongue back and forth, then licks everywhere. Then, he sits up behind me, and lines himself up.
I strain to turn back a little, just to get a look at him. “Protection?”
He smirks right at me and turns so I can see he has a condom on. When the fuck did he do that? While he was licking me? No way any man on this planet has that kind of a skillset, can do two things at once that quickly.
It’s the only explanation, though.
I turn back around and wait for him to fill me again. Last night his hand clamped around my collar bone when he fucked me from behind. Today he seems fixated on my hair, because he maneuvers it into a little ponytail, then grips it just hard enough to pull on my scalp.
It’s incredible.
“Food’s getting cold.” I don’t give a shit about the food. I just want his dick.
I expect him to say something back, but he doesn’t.
Crack!
Oh. My. God.
His hand connects with my ass. Hard. Hard enough to definitely leave a handprint, and it stings like crazy as the blood rushes back into my skin. I gasp out a sigh.
“What the—” I start to
turn around.
Crack!
He does it again.
This time, I tense up and start to turn around to let him have it, even though I think I might like being spanked. “You fucking—”
His cock slides into me, just as I’m about to let loose on him.
“Oh my God, yes.”
He’s turning me into a sex addict. I know it’s what he’s doing. He’s conditioning me with his dick. I quickly find myself throwing my hips back into him as he thrusts forward. One of his hands slides around my hip and he strokes my clit with his fingers while he pounds into me.
I can’t help but notice Covington is different than any man I’ve been with. I have no doubt he enjoys being inside me, but he’s constantly trying to make sure it’s just as good if not better for me. It’s almost like he’s in it more for me than for him.
I reach back and shove him away. His eyes get a little big.
I stand up guide him forcefully so he’s sitting on the couch, then I straddle him. He’s been in control enough and I haven’t been on top yet.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Meadow.”
I ignore his words and sit down on top of him, taking him as deep as he’ll go. Holy shit.
The look on his face tells me he feels the exact same. His eyes close, then they open back up and we stare at each other.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” His hands come up and his palms are on both my cheeks as I slowly glide up and down on him.
It’s different than last night, but no less intense.
His big hands reach around, and he splays his fingers across my ass as I rock up and down on him. His mouth surges out and he takes one of my breasts in it.
I hook my arms around his neck, and I think I could get used to this every day, doing this with Covington. I’m already close.
“Fuck.” Covington groans, and I’m pretty sure it means he’s almost there too.
I grind my hips in a small circle on him, doing my best to get off before he does. He takes notice, and his hand slides down and strokes my clit.
“Shit.” My head tilts back to the ceiling.
Our tempo speeds up, until I’m bouncing up and down on him, and another giant orgasm rocks through my body. Covington grunts, then shoves me down on him as he takes me as deep as humanly possible.
We both convulse a few times, finishing simultaneously, which I always thought was bullshit. I thought it was something people joked about happening or was only possible in fictional stories. Nope. We just did it.
After a few moments, Covington picks me back up, his dick never leaving me. He carries me all the way to the table, where our food still awaits us. He kisses me full on the lips, then slips out of me and sets me down as he goes around the corner, presumably to get rid of the condom.
I’ve already eaten a strip of bacon when he returns, and it’s like heaven, even if it is a little cold.
“Thanks for waiting.”
I take a huge sip of orange juice. “My pleasure.”
He laughs.
“This food’s amazing. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
He doesn’t eat, just sits there, watching me eat like a weirdo.
Finally, I say, “What?”
“Nothing.” He cants his head slightly to the side and says, “I’m taking you somewhere later.”
I shake my head. “Can’t.” I stop and finish chewing, trying to apologize with my eyes. “Sorry. I just have places I need to be today.”
“Please.” He takes my hand. “Just an hour, later in the evening.”
I look at him. How the hell am I supposed to say no? I have to say no. “An hour? Tops?”
He laughs. “Yes. Take it easy. It’s just an hour.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I really do have some things going on though.”
“Didn’t take it as rude. We’ll figure this out. I’m a great problem solver. I’m sure we can figure out an hour.”
I look at him for a long time, knowing I shouldn’t, but maybe I can make it work. I have no desire to be around Dad, so it would be a nice break so I don’t murder him. Nothing would make Mom more unhappy than that, and I know she would want this for me. “So, where you taking me?”
His eyes light up. “Somewhere special.”
Wells Covington
My stomach tightens as we head up the sidewalk. Never in my life did I think I would be doing this. My hand slips down into Meadow’s, and fuck, it feels good. It feels so right, and it scares the living shit out of me.
I pride myself on making reasonable decisions, using objective data. I’m anything but objective when I’m around her. Emotions I didn’t know I was capable of, flood my veins.
Usually, I get single-minded on an investment track. I see the goal so clearly, and I’m relentless until I have what I want.
All of that has faded.
All I want is her, and I know I won’t stop until she’s mine. The thing at the back of my mind, driving all this uncertainty, is the one thing that is as constant as the earth moving around the sun. What goes up, always comes down. Everything is a cycle, and right now, with Meadow, I’m on the upswing. We all know what happens with relationships, it’s inevitable. Do we have what it takes when things go south? Even worse is half the equation is out of my control.
I think that’s just it. I usually control everything, and I can’t control what Meadow thinks, what she feels. I can’t make decisions for her, and that is exactly what haunts me right now.
Meadow glances up and smiles. “Where we going?”
I do my best to hide my uncertainty about us. “Patience.”
“Patience.” She mocks me in a deep, serious voice. “Seriously, tell me.”
“We’re almost there.”
When I reach the door of The Gage, the bar of choice where the entire Hunter Group firm always hangs out, I open it for her.
She glances around, surveying her surroundings, and raises an eyebrow. “A bar?”
She’s teasing me and expects me to grin, but I’m so damn nervous I can’t bring myself to fake one. I tell myself over and over I shouldn’t do this, it’s too soon, I’m caught up in my feelings. Yet my feet keep taking me whatever direction they want with her. It’s like I’m outside of my body, and some other force is acting upon me.
“It’s not about the location.”
She regards me for another few seconds, studying me like she always does, trying to figure out what my end game is. “When you said somewhere special, I thought it’d be some big romantic gesture or something, or something meaningful to you. You do know how to date, don’t you?”
“Nope,” I say as she walks inside.
Once she’s a few steps past me, she stops.
I fill the empty space next to her and look straight ahead at the bar, but more importantly, at the people sitting in front of it. “Some things are more significant than big romantic gestures.”
The people at the bar turn and smile at me when they see I’m with a single woman. I’m going to catch more shit for this than I ever have in my life. Part of me wants it to happen, I think. Meadow is worth it to me, a lifetime of ridicule from these assholes. I’ll do anything to have her. Anything.
“So what’s significant about this?” For the first time ever, I think, Meadow appears confused, like she doesn’t understand.
“Those people at the bar, staring at us.” I look down to her.
“Yeah?”
“Those are my best friends. My only friends.”
“Okay?”
I smile at her and then shrug. “I don’t bring women to meet them. Not women I’m serious with, anyway, because I’ve never been serious with a woman.”
Meadow tries to hide it, but her lips curl into a slight grin. Finally, she nods, and I think I’ve made her happy. “Okay.”
As we walk over, I can already see everyone running their mouths, snickering to each other. It’s time to eat some humble pie. I’ve given them
so much shit, ridiculous amounts of shit, the last two years as I’ve watched each of them fall in love and get engaged. There has been relentless mocking and teasing about how I would never settle down, how I could never be with one woman.
This is deserved, and Meadow is so special to me, I want her there to witness all of this. Plus, I just want her to know the people who are most important to me, the only people I value more than my business.
Dexter, Abigail, Cole Miller, and Harlow Collins stand up as we approach.
“Hello everyone.”
Meadow walks right at my side, eager to greet them. I love how she stands front and center, doesn’t shy behind me. This woman isn’t afraid of anything. If she only knew the viper den of sarcasm she’s venturing into.
“Wells, is that really you? We waiting for one more?” Abigail smiles and doesn’t even give me a chance to respond. She goes straight for Meadow, as women do. “Hi, I’m Abigail.”
“Meadow.” They shake hands.
Harlow, who has never met a day she smiled upon, frowns and says, “Harlow.”
I pray she doesn’t crush Meadow’s hand when she shakes it. I’ll admit that woman scares me a little.
“What’s up, fucker?” Dex shakes my hand.
“What do we have here?” says Cole as he shakes my hand as well.
And just like that, they all turn their backs on me and focus their attention to Meadow.
“Dexter Collins.”
“Cole Miller.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” says Dex. He grins his ass off right at me, the entire time he shakes Meadow’s hand, like oh, you’re about to catch some shit, sir.
Finally, after all the introductions are made, we all have a seat. The women pull Meadow away from me and surround her on one side of the bar, talking about shit women talk about. The guys yank me to the side. It seems like it’s some kind of divide-and-conquer tactic they all thought up on the fly, or perhaps it’s some social norm I’m not aware of.
I’m not sure how I feel about it. Not the fact that they’ll be interrogating Meadow or giving me shit. I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s the fact that when Meadow isn’t right next to me, I get this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. She’s four seats away at a bar, and I miss her.
