Forty-Four #2
But I have no self-control when it comes to Stacy Dunn. I lose my breath just thinking about her body so when the real thing is in front of me, all my inhibition is out the window.
Heat swirls around in my gut as my teeth pull at Stacy’s bottom lip.
“How do you always feel so good?” I pant against her mouth.
“How is your pussy always so fucking wet? So tight ?” I drop my forehead to hers with a groan, reveling in her breathless moans and the way her nails are digging into the skin of my back.
“Harder,” she breathes, squirming against me.
I pick up my pace, driving into her relentlessly as grunts and moans fall from both of our mouths.
It crosses my mind that the brick wall has to be rubbing against Stacy’s bare back, but she doesn’t seem to mind as I move her dress out of the way to catch one of her nipples in my mouth.
I tug at the sensitive skin with my teeth and feel her pussy clench around me, her wild moan reverberating around the alley.
What we’re doing right now isn’t romantic. It isn’t slow or tender. It’s lustful and dirty, quick and frantic, damn near primal. Something about it feels passionate, but a kind of passion I haven’t felt before.
Almost as if it’s anger disguised as passion.
My stomach clenches as the term “break-up sex” whirls around in my mind. That’s not what this is, though.
Right?
“Fuck me like you mean it,” Stacy gasps, leaving scratches down my back as I switch nipples. “Fuck me like you hate me.”
I pull back at her words, my eyes widening as my hips slow. “Angel, I can’t. I don’t hate you.”
She whimpers at the loss of friction. Her thighs tighten around my waist, her fingers clawing desperately at my skin.
Before I can push away from her or demand an explanation for her ridiculous statement, she moves her hips against me.
I lose my words almost immediately as Stacy pulls my mouth back to hers.
I start slowly sliding in and out of her again, a weak fucking man, before giving in and finding a vicious rhythm.
I’m dizzy for it, my knees starting to wobble as Stacy makes a strangled noise against my lips.
She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes rolling back as her pussy tightens around me.
It makes my stomach churn in the best way, beads of sweat dotting my forehead as Stacy bites down on her full lip.
“You’re going to make me come,” she whimpers, a moan trailing the end of her sentence.
Her words spur me on as I buck harder, a flush breaking out across my skin as my stomach coils. “Good,” I huff. “Eyes on me, baby.”
For the first time since we started sleeping together, Stacy ignores my request. Instead, she squeezes her eyes shut, letting her face fall away from me while her fingers twist in my shirt.
The heat from an impending orgasm and dread from Stacy’s actions are building in my gut simultaneously. My eyebrows knit together as Stacy’s breath starts to shudder, my own breathing picking up.
“Sweetheart, open your eyes,” I try again, clenching the muscles in my stomach to make sure Stacy finishes before I do.
She refuses again, shaking her head. The dim city light catches a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye and I suddenly feel like I might throw up rather than get off.
“Please look at me.” My voice is a broken whisper, my stomach and chest tightening in equal measure as Stacy’s back arches off the brick wall.
“Fuck,” she cries. “ Shit . I’m coming, Reece.”
She buries her face into my chest to muffle her moans and something inside of me breaks.
My own orgasm takes me by surprise, slamming into me along with dread and panic.
I gasp and groan into Stacy’s thick hair, spilling into her as she goes limp against my body.
My legs and arms are so shaky I can barely hold her up as we both recover, our breathing erratic while I try to memorize the way Stacy feels pressed up against me.
I have a sickening feeling that the memory of it may be all that I have soon.
“Stace,” I pant into her ear.
She pushes me away without responding, finding her footing and pulling her dress down. Tears start springing freely from her eyes as she shoves against my chest, trying to get around me as a sob rips out of her throat.
“Whoa, whoa, where in the hell are you going?” I demand, catching her wrist as she tries to get away.
She whirls to face me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with shaky hands as my heart starts to crumble. “Go find Tashia. She’s inside somewhere,” she shouts. Her lips are trembling, her face flushed as she goes to turn around again.
“Stacy, Stacy, Stacy.” I take two large strides to stand in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders.
She swats them away.
“You know, I would be okay if you had just been honest with me from the start,” she blubbers as mascara stains her cheeks.
“Stace, I’ve always been honest with you,” I promise her desperately.
“If you’d told me from the start that you just wanted to win Tashia back, I would’ve still gone along with everything.
” Her words are starting to slur now as if the adrenaline has worn off and the alcohol is starting to seep into her bloodstream.
“I still would’ve been your fake girlfriend but I never would’ve let myself fall in love with you. It wouldn’t hurt so bad.”
I place another hesitant hand on her bicep, desperation clawing it’s way through my body. “Stacy, this has never been about Tashia. ”
She jerks back, chipping away another piece of my heart. “When do the lies stop? This has always been about Tashia, you’ve been trying to make her jealous so she’d want you back,” she shouts, descending into sobs while she covers her face with her hands.
Defeat settles low in my stomach at the sound of Stacy’s cries.
Before I can stop myself, I pull her to my chest and squeeze her tight, pressing my cheek down on the top of her head while I sway us back and forth.
I start muttering incoherent nonsense, promises of my love and loyalty and honesty that feel like a waste of breath at this point.
Stacy wiggles out of my hold, glaring up at me with tear-stained eyes and blotched cheeks. “Has any of this ever been real to you?”
“Of course. Our relationship is the realest thing in my life,” I swear through a tight throat. “Stace, I don’t know what Tashia said to you, but if I can just explain—”
“I don’t need an explanation, I need you to get the fuck away from me,” Stacy spits.
“Please don’t shut me out right now,” I beg, my voice breaking.
“I should have seen this coming. She warned me about you.”
Panic and anger are at war in my chest, my heartbeat in my ears as I desperately cling to what I have left of Stacy.
I know the truth. Tashia knows the truth. But what good is the truth if Stacy won’t fucking listen to me?
“Baby, let’s go back to the house. I’ll get you some water, you can sober up, and we can—”
“You did a great job,” she cuts me off, her voice a broken sob. “You did such a wonderful job convincing people that you loved me that you had me convinced, too. Congratulations.” Stacy gives me a sarcastic clap before shoulder-checking me to move around me.
“Don’t do this here,” I plead, whirling around to trot up next to her.
“Leave me alone .” She stops abruptly when we reach the crowded sidewalk, bringing me up short with her sharp tone. “I can’t fucking think straight with you this close to me.”
I take a step back, Stacy throwing an icy glare up at me as I try and pretend my heart isn’t breaking.
Space from Stacy is the last thing I want right now. But I know Stacy Dunn.
And I know damn well that the harder I push, the more she’ll pull away.
“Okay.” My voice is barely above a whisper as I blink back the tears trying to fall. “Okay, I’ll give you a little bit of time. We can talk about this in the morning when we’re both in a better headspace. Yeah?”
Stacy gives me a curt nod, uselessly wiping at the endless stream of tears falling from her eyes.
I lean in hesitantly to press my lips to her forehead, immensely thankful that she doesn’t pull away immediately.
When I step back, Stacy says nothing reassuring at all.
Instead, she gives me one last crestfallen glance before striding back up to the bouncer of Outlaw’s Den, showing him the stamps on her hands to be let back into the door.
She disappears and I feel something in my chest deflate.
Maybe I should go back inside too. Maybe I should find my brother and try to shake off my argument with Stacy so I can enjoy my New Year’s Eve. We can talk in the morning when we’re both sober and we can sort out this mess that we’re in.
But I can hardly stand the thought of facing everyone and pretending anymore. I feel like I’ve been pretending for months, for years, and I can’t be sunshine tonight.
Because I don’t know if my fight with Stacy was a pause or an end. If it was the latter, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be sunshine again.