Chapter 16 #2
Looking at me from under her lashes, she hesitates and decides to play it coy. “I’m pretty sure you know what I love by now.”
“M-hm, I do. But maybe I wanna hear you say it.”
This makes her squirm under me and squeeze her legs against my hips.
She closes her eyes and parts her lips to speak but doesn’t say anything.
I second-guess taking things to a physical level.
Maybe we need to have more talking. We are insatiable for each other.
It’s never enough. But I make myself chill, wanting to track how she’s really feeling before our desire drowns out everything else.
“I love your hands.” Her shy admission pulls me out of my pondering. Sucked back into her, us, I nod, my eyes boring into hers. “On me,” she adds, her pupils taking over her irises.
I dip my head till my lips are right at the base of her ear. “On you where?” My tongue snakes out to skim her lobe before drawing it into my mouth, sucking lightly.
“Anywhere. Everywhere.” Her reply is breathy as her pelvis rises to meet mine.
“Yeah?” I ask. I don’t wait for an answer when I ask, “Here?” I slide my hand over the thin, soft fabric of her T-shirt and seize her breast. I feel her head nod against my lips, still kissing and sucking on her ear and neck.
I slip my hand under the cotton and tease her nipple already hardened and begging to be touched.
She arches her chest into my hand.
I pull the hem of the fabric up and replace my fingers with my lips, kissing and sucking while my hand slides lower.
The elastic band of her sweats gives without any resistance.
I smile at the easy access. Gliding my hands past the lacy edge of her thong, I find her so slippery with excitement I almost forget our game.
I pull my lips off her nipple with a pop.
“Here?” I barely breathe the word when I feel her head nodding again, and it’s all I need.
I plunge two fingers into her sweet spot.
Her exhale is long, part moan, part answer.
“Ughhh huh.” With my thumb driving her crazy on the outside and my fingers driving her crazy on the inside, her thigh muscles are taut and want to clench shut, but my weight between her legs won’t allow it.
Her eyes are pinched shut and her head tosses to one side, then the other.
“I got you, Ever. I know what you like. What you love.” I keep the pressure going—slow circles, my thumb and finger meeting through the sensitive velvet skin at her apex. Just as she’s about the come, I capture her lips in a kiss, suctioning her mouth to mine.
When her orgasm hits, she bites down on my bottom lip as I swallow her crying moan.
While the spasms subside, I slowly slide my fingers out, eliciting a tiny moan from her at the vacancy.
“Mmmm. Yeah, I like that,” she rasps, her voice husky with desire.
A delighted laugh rumbles through my chest. I kiss her again, loudly smacking her lips.
“That too,” she adds after my kiss, but she’s squirming a little under me. I don’t make her wait.
Lifting myself off the couch, I shove my sweats off my hips and down my legs, then peel her top up over her head and drop it next to our growing pile of clothes.
She lifts her hips as I hook my fingers in the waistband of her sweats.
I slide them down, along with her thong, and swipe them off her feet to pool on the floor with mine.
I quickly settle back between her legs. I kiss her just as quickly—deeply—and as our tongues tangle in their familiar dance, I guide myself into her and sink my hips down all the way.
She lifts her knees, giving me deeper access, and wraps them tight around my ass.
God, she feels so good. Her walls encase me perfectly, snugly. I can’t stop the deep moans as I sink into her again and again. “Ughhh. Ughhh.”
She rises to meet me and sets the pace, all thoughts of our game long gone.
In fact, I’m not sure I can form words right now.
I’m trying not to come before her, but she feels so goddamn good.
She’s safe, she’s here in my arms and she’s coming undone for me.
She doesn’t always say it with words, but she loves me.
She says it in so many other ways, every day.
I find my voice. “Are you close, Ever? Come for me?”
Her walls tense around me, and I know she’s close.
I’m shaking with restraint, driving into her, my face buried in her hair, her neck, her scent. Then I hear her voice, hoarse with desire, and I feel her lips, breath against my ear.
“Yes, Julie. Ugh, fuck, I love you.”
I feel the dampness on my cheek, her tears.
I feel the shudder of her orgasm around my dick, and I can’t stop myself if I wanted to.
I bury myself in her deeply and come in an orgasm I feel in every cell of my body.
Spent, my body aching from the murderous workout I gave it, I want to collapse.
The couch is too narrow to lie next to her unless we rotate on our sides.
Coiling my arm around her, I grunt as I lift her and twist us so we’re facing each other.
Her frown tells me she tracked the unusual exertion that took. “Did you hurt yourself?” She lays her hand gently on my cheek, pinning me with her stare.
“Not intentionally.”
Her eyes go wide at my response. “Like, just now?” Her lips stay parted in surprise. My chest vibrates with my chuckle.
“No, sweet girl, not now. Before, when you were outside . . . talking.” I don’t say his name. I’m not sure I can yet. If she’s okay, I should be too. I’m just not one hundred percent convinced she is.
“How?” She pauses, then answers her own question. “Working out.” She rolls her eyes a little as she says it.
“I was just distracting myself while I waited.”
She pets my face, almost absently curling her fingers into the stubble thickening on my jaw. “You already said that,” she teases. “Did it work?”
Her cheeky question pulls another chest-vibrating chuckle from me as I shake my head slowly.
“Not even a little.” I’m not sure any of my coping tricks would’ve worked this time.
Which makes me wonder if I need to revisit therapy.
I did it for a while when I first came to Blue Lake—online because it’s so remote out here.
Besides, even if they did have a therapist or two here in town, everyone knows everyone.
I’m not sure I’d relax enough to use said therapist to its full potential.
What’s the point of going to therapy if you’re not going all in?
But why aren’t all my tricks working anymore?
I mean, they are . . . were . . . until they weren’t.
Violence has never been my MO. I grew up watching my parents beat the shit out of each other.
I learned quickly how to disappear—literally leaving the shitty trailer as quiet as a mouse.
The few times I tried to hide inside, they’d spot me and I’d be dragged into their addiction-fueled tantrums. So I learned to get the fuck out of the trashy little box as soon as shit escalated.
Therapy is exhausting, but I’ll start it again if I need to.
I’ll never be what my parents were. I never want someone I love to see that part of me—that anger that lives inside me.
I never understood all the tantrums, screaming and violence.
Sure, they’d always make up the same way they got pissed—in some inebriated state—but they’d be covered in bruises and scratches for days after. Stupid.
“Let’s go sit in the hot tub. It’ll make you feel better.” Ever climbs over me to stand up from the couch. “I’ll grab the robes after I use the restroom.” She disappears down the short hallway—unaffectedly naked.
When will I start to believe I deserve the magic of this precious girl?
She’s so comfortably herself around me now.
God, I love her so much it hurts. Like every time this thought hits me, the pain in my chest follows.
I can’t survive losing her. I rub small circles on the hollow heart tattoo with the flat of my palm out of habit.
I roll up to a sitting position to join her, wincing at the strain on my abs.
The hot tub will most definitely help my screaming muscles.
I smile to myself that she knows this now too.