Chapter 18
GRANT
“You can’t touch me yet,” Kendall says.
She’s straddling me but not putting her hands on me. Her tits are in my face and she’s pushing them together, and my vision wavers. I might actually pass out here.
When she lets her pink nipple graze my mouth and then pulls it out of reach, I let out a whiny sound I don’t think I’ve ever made in my life. “Fuuuck off. I don’t know if I can do this.” My fingers grip the comforter.
She sits up a little. “Wait, really?”
“No, I’m okay.” I’m breathing heavily. “Keep going.”
“Put your hands behind your head again,” she says.
I comply. I’m holding my breath, waiting for her next instruction.
Instead, she reaches for the button of my jeans. She grazes my erection when she pulls the zipper down, and I suck in another breath. She moves slowly. I’m not being dramatic when I say I might die from anticipation.
She tugs off my jeans, then my boxers. My cock springs up. She leans forward again, dragging her whole body down mine, and I shudder. She kneels on the floor and kisses a path up one thigh, then the other. I’m fisting the comforter so hard I might tear it.
The first stripe she licks up my shaft rips a groan from my throat. Jesus, this woman.
“Please,” I say. “Please, Kendall, I can’t take this anymore.”
She teases me a little longer, soft little brushes of her tongue. I squirm.
“I’m not even kidding,” I pant. “Fucking please.”
She finally takes me into her mouth. The first hot suction of her lips has my eyes rolling back into my head.
“God, that feels amazing.” I watch her head move, her pink lips stretching around me.
Her nails dig into my ass as she works me over.
This is what I needed. I’m at the razor edge of bliss.
I can feel it just around the corner, taunting me.
Just a little longer and I’ll finally be there, falling off that cliff of sweet relief.
Then I’m right there, panting as I squeeze and relax, almost near the edge—
She stops, pulling her mouth and hands from me.
“Fuck!” I thump a fist against my bed. I want to come so bad I might cry.
She smiles at me. “You’ll be okay.” Her breasts sway a little as she climbs over me again. I’m mesmerized by this woman, falling further into this attachment. “Can you lose the shirt?”
I sit up, bringing myself flush with her, and reach behind me to pull my shirt up and over my head. Our bare chests touch. I would swear I can feel her heart pounding against me, but it could just be my own racing pulse.
“I’m begging you,” I tell her.
“Soon.” She whispers it into my ear, so close her lips touch me, and a full body shudder racks me. “I promise.”
“Then I’m at your complete mercy,” I say, swallowing. “Now what?”
She scoots up my torso. “Can I . . .?” Her cheeks pink.
“I’m intrigued.” My stomach tenses under her naked body. “Are you shy now, babe?”
“I’ve never done what I’m about to ask for.”
I pin her with my stare. “Tell me.”
I stare, transfixed, as she moves toward my head and hovers over me.
“Yeah? I mean, hell yeah.” I grip her thighs and tug her over my mouth.
My tongue finds her center. I lick her while she grinds on me. Her weight lifts off my face, and I pull her back down. She’s not getting away.
I would be happy here forever with her sitting on my face, tongue buried in her folds. I forget about my own desperate need for a few minutes. My whole body sings with sensation.
Too soon, she moves off me.
“I want you to be inside me,” she says. “With protection, though.”
My heart pounds. “Of course.”
She lifts so I can scoot over to my bedside table and grab a little packet. I roll on the condom as she watches me. I start to lift up, but she gently pushes me back down.
“Stay there,” she says.
“All right.” If she’s going to put me out of my misery, I don’t care what it takes, I’ll do it.
She grips my cock in one hand then slowly, one agonizing millimeter at a time, sinks down onto me. Her snug heat is enough to pull another moan from me. She lets out a little huff of air that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“You still can’t come until I say.” She’s looking down at me but I’m helpless, unable to even form coherent sentences.
“Kendall,” I say, “I’m barely hanging on. I’m not sure I can wait.”
“You can.”
She starts to grind on me, and the edges of my vision blur with how good she feels. I reach up to make circles around her clit with my finger. Her answering whimper spurs me on. She moves a little faster, bouncing now, and my climax is so imminent I have to do some math in my head to stave it off.
“Please let me come,” I grit out. “Please.” Desperation rings through me.
“Hang on.” She moves against me, grinding harder, then shouts my name, squeezing around me.
Oh, Jesus. Her sounds, her lush body, the way she clenches around me—I can’t fucking stand it. Tingles start at the base of my spine.
“Oh God, Kendall.” I grit my teeth. “That’s so hot. You’re so fucking hot. Please let me come.”
“Now you can,” she says.
Oh, thank God. Fucking finally. I thrust up into her once, twice, and then—absolute ecstasy. Fireworks. Bombs detonating. On and on, until I almost can’t stand the pleasure.
I cry out her name, and some other garbled nonsense, gripping her hips with enough force to pin her in place. I’m hardly ever this vocal, and I would be embarrassed, but I feel too good to care.
My head swims.
Wow. I suck in a breath. Well, that’s it. That has to be the pinnacle of my sex life. I don’t think it gets any better than that. I’m not going to be able to move for a while.
Kendall rolls off me, then after I dispose of the condom I find her putting her clothes back on.
My stomach drops. “Are you leaving already?”
She shrugs. “We can finish our project another time, since we didn’t work on it. I figured I could go.”
A queasy feeling washes over me. I don’t want her to go. I was hoping to spend more time with her and, God help me, to listen to her talk about anything at all. I’m losing my head here, and I can do nothing to stop it.
“You can hang out for a little longer. We can find something to watch, if you want.”
“I figured you would need your beauty sleep.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Kendall.” I smooth a hand over my hair. “I want you to stay, is all. I like you.”
Her face collapses a little, like my admission has devastated her. Which, she should know I like her. Haven’t I made it obvious?
“What does that mean?” She sits on my bed.
“Hasn’t anyone told you they like you before?” I sit next to her and take her hand, and she allows that. “I can’t be the first.”
“No, of course not. I’ve always had some options, even when you thought I shouldn’t.”
God. Her hits always land with such brutal, targeted efficiency.
“I would like you, and I would want you, if you looked exactly the same as you did then,” I say. “I was an awful person for saying things like that to you.”
She takes her hand back and buries her face in her palms. “Why does it have to be you? Of all the men in this city.”
“Is there any way you could move past how I treated you?” My breath stalls.
She shakes her head, and my heart thuds. “I can keep hooking up with you. I’m having fun. But if you’re asking about our future, I just don’t think it’s possible. Once your rotation is over, I think we should draw a line under it.”
“So, I have until Halloween to win you over?”
“Grant . . .”
“I know.” I hold my hand up. “I’m clear.”
I have never been more angry at my former self than I am in this moment.
Even if I didn’t want her, which I do, I would be devastated about how I messed with the life and the self-esteem of this phenomenal person.
As I’m walking her to the door and bidding her goodbye, I’m wishing I could go back in time and punch that insecure, entitled kid in the face.
The first Saturday in October marks the beginning of me having three blessed days off in a row, and it’s an amazing feeling.
My parents are on their way to visit me, which isn’t really how I wanted to spend my day off, but I’m hoping I can hang out for a few hours and then get on with the rest of my weekend.
My mother greets me at my door wearing a sweater, pants, and handbag in various shades of beige, though it looks expensive.
Her butter-yellow hair is styled and hair-sprayed, as always.
My dad follows with his customary nod toward me.
He’s gruff and pink-cheeked, as usual, and sporting a pinched expression as though he’s just smelled something unpleasant.
I think I get my too-serious demeanor from him, but I hope to God I have a better sense of humor.
My mom hands me a clear container filled with what looks like pasta, and my heart thaws despite my ambivalence about entertaining them today. She reaches up to hug me, and I bend down to her.
“Thank you,” I say.
She looks around. “Is your roommate here?”
I glance around myself as though he might pop out from behind the couch. “He’s working.”
“Ah. Well I hate we missed him.”
My parents never understood why I wanted a roommate. To them, I’m too old to “live like I’m still in college.” Still, my mom has this Southern quality where she pretends to be disappointed by someone’s absence when I know she wouldn’t want to sit and make small talk with Adam.
I offer them some tea I made for their visit, and they accept. They sit at the kitchen barstools while I chat with Mom.
“Traffic was terrible,” my dad says at a lull. It’s the first sentence he’s spoken to me, and my skin already prickles with irritation. Louisville’s big, but they act like I live in New York City or something.
“I thought we could go to lunch,” Mom says as I put the pasta in the fridge.
Dad’s still not done, though. “You really want to live here long term?”