23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
brENDEN
This date has done something to me.
Altered my brain chemistry somehow so that it’s become impossible for me not to be touching Travis.
I’ve spent the entire drive back to my house with my hand on his thigh or the back of his neck, my fingertips trailing over the short hairs at his nape like that’s their only purpose in life.
And this isn’t lust.
Or maybe it is, but it’s something else too.
It's Travis.
It’s this thing that’s been building between us. Slowly at first, and now rapidly, out of control and impossible to ignore.
Or am I crazy? Am I letting myself get carried away in a silly fantasy where a dream man like this actually wants me? Wants me for more than sex, that is. The way Travis looked at me tonight—the way he touched me and talked to me—made it feel like there’s something real going on here. But I can’t afford to be wrong about this.
My life is great. I have May, I have a career I’m passionate about, I have the town. What happens if I fall for Travis and then find out I’m the only one falling? That would probably destroy me.
Going into this fake relationship, we agreed we wouldn’t let it affect our real friendship.
And Travis doesn’t date. He hooks up. That’s not just town gossip. He told me this himself. So how can I expect him to suddenly change who he is for me?
I can’t.
I need to break myself out of whatever magic spell this fancy date night put over me and remember that Travis is only mine for now. He’s not mine to keep.
As we pull into my driveway, we see Elise and Grant’s rental car there, and Travis unsnaps his seatbelt. “I’d better go in with you.”
“Right,” I mutter. “Keeping up the act.”
He frowns, but before I can puzzle out why, he’s out of the truck and coming around to my side. I let him open my door for me and help me out again, because Elise might be watching us out the window. Not because it feels nice.
When we get inside, we find May and her grandparents in the process of cleaning up after a board game. They ask how our dinner was, and I tell them the food was amazing, while Travis brings our leftovers into the kitchen to put away. He comes back and stands close to me, placing his hand over my hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then he thanks Elise and Grant for their generosity.
Grants waves him off. “It was the least we could do.”
“We wanted you two to enjoy yourselves,” Elise adds.
May grins devilishly, her eyes darting between me and Travis. “Yeah. It must have been nice for you guys to get some alone time, right?”
“So nice,” I reply, with a minimal amount of sarcasm that hopefully only she can detect. I still don’t understand why she keeps pushing us together beyond what’s necessary for the lie.
“Well, we’d better get going back to the inn,” Elise says, motioning for Grant to follow her toward the door. “We’ll leave you all to the rest of your night.”
After the goodbyes, May turns to me and Travis and announces that she’s going to her room to read. “I’ll be playing music too,” she adds. “Loudly.”
Next thing I know, she’s run up the stairs, leaving us standing here alone. She must be happy to have her room back.
Travis’s hand is still on my hip, and he keeps his hold of it as he turns to face me. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through the hair at my temple. “I really did enjoy going out with you tonight.”
“Same,” I tell him, barely resisting the urge to nuzzle my head into his hand like a cat.
“And you know, the night doesn’t have to end here.”
“What do you mean?”
He gives me a small smile. “I mean I could give Grant and Elise a few minutes to get out of here, then I could head back to my place. Or...”
“Or?” I whisper, like he’s about to tell me a secret.
His brown eyes study me as he cradles my face in his warm palm. Then he says, “Or I could stay, and we could go up to your room.”
Oh my god.
I’ve hooked up with him a handful of times now, and he’s said some surprisingly filthy things to me. So why does that simple sentence sound like the goddamn sexiest thing I’ve ever heard?
I worried our hooking up was over now that he doesn’t need to share a bedroom with me anymore. But here he is, looking at me like he wants this to continue as much as I do.
He tilts his head, waiting for my answer.
“Stay,” I tell him.
And then I throw myself at him.
My hands land on his chest, and he wraps both arms around me as we kiss, his fingers curling into the material of my shirt. I run my palms up his pecs, then wrap one hand around the back of his neck so he can’t get away. His mouth is hot and insistent against mine. When he urges me to open up for him, I do it eagerly, letting his tongue explore.
We kiss our way up the stairs, doing our best not to make too much noise, but unwilling to let each other go. By the time we make it to my room, my lips are almost swollen, yet still, I’m insatiable.
Travis guides me to the bed, where he pushes me down on my back, commanding and gentle at the same time. He kneels on the floor to take off my shoes, then kicks off his own before climbing on top of me.
His hands travel my body, lighting everywhere he touches on fire, even through my clothes. I’m burning up for him. My need to touch him during the drive here has nothing on the intense need I feel now. If we’re not naked together in the next minute, I’ll go out of my mind.
I try to make that happen by yanking at his shirt until it comes untucked from his jeans. Who knew this man would look as hot in a button-down as he does in flannel and a black T-shirt?
Unfortunately, this shirt is more difficult to get him out of. I only get one button undone before I get frustrated and attempt to rip the whole thing off him.
I’m entirely ineffectual at that, of course, and his hand covers mine to stop me. He sits up, straddling my hips, and finishes undoing the buttons with long, skillful fingers. And while I appreciate the striptease, I don’t have time for this. It’s essential for my survival that we get naked and he gets back to touching me.
“Hurry up,” I urge, working hastily on my own clothes now.
He chuckles. “Someone’s impatient.”
“Someone’s horny,” I fire back. “Now do you want to keep teasing me or do you want to let me get my hands on your dick?”
His eyes flash with lust, then he smirks. “Sorry, I wasn’t aware I was teasing you.”
This entire night has felt like a tease. Not only a tease for orgasms, but a tease of something more. I don’t tell him that though.
I whine in protest when he rolls off me, but then I realize he’s taking off his jeans, which is fantastic. He removes his boxers too, tossing them to the floor. Then he laughs at me, watching me try to wriggle my way out of my pants before he moves in to help.
Finally—fucking finally —we’re both naked. Getting on top of me again, he lines up our cocks so that they slide gloriously against each other as he rolls his hips. He’s got one arm braced beside my head to hold himself up, and when he grips both of our cocks in his other hand and starts stroking slowly, I turn my head to the side and bite him, because I don’t know what else to do with how good this feels.
He growls, making my dick jerk in his hand. And this wild kingdom thing we’ve got going on is great, but I need him to make me come, and then I need to make him come. Or the other way around. It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re both coming our brains out very, very soon.
Apparently, he has other ideas about dragging this out though. Because he lets go of our cocks and slides himself down my body until he’s settled between my legs, which he spreads open by wrapping a strong hand around each of my thighs.
He gives me a feral look, right before he leans down and sucks at the crease of my thigh and groin.
“ Unnngh ,” I moan.
That only seems to encourage him to continue on with the perfect torture. He’s kneading my inner thighs with his hands and using his mouth to suck and bite and lick at the sensitive skin. The rough scrape of his facial hair there is almost enough to send me over the edge. But it’s not quite enough, and he’s ignoring my cock, even though it’s leaking shamelessly now.
“I thought you weren’t going to tease,” I whine, fisting the sheets to resist grabbing his hair and forcing his mouth where I want it the most.
He glances up at me with a dangerous smile. “I didn’t say that. I just said I wasn’t aware I was doing it before.”
The noise I make is something between a frustrated growl and a pitiful whine. But I don’t care if that was embarrassing, because he sits up to get the lube bottle out of my bedside drawer, then returns to his spot between my legs. A spot I wish he’d never leave.
I brace myself up on my forearms to watch as he rubs some lube between his fingers, warming it. And then, with his eyes locked on mine, he reaches down, rubbing two fingers around my hole before he slowly slides them both inside. I gasp, but my body welcomes the intrusion.
He fingers my ass like he’s on a mission, alternating between shallow strokes and going deeper. Then he gently scissors his fingers to spread me open, and I wait eagerly for him to add a third finger. But he gives me a wink and lowers his head to lick at my rim instead, while his fingers continue to drive me wild.
As soon as he curls them and taps on my prostate, I almost shoot off the mattress. Unable to control myself, I begin thrusting down on him, riding his fingers, silently demanding more. My head falls back onto the pillow as my arms give out, and I reach down to wrap my hand around my cock, but he grips my wrist, stopping me. That’s when I start pleading.
“Oh god, oh fuck, please, please, please. Make me come. I need to, please, I can’t take it anymore.”
Suddenly, his fingers slide all the way out of my ass.
I sit up quickly, ready to fight him. “ Nooo. Why did you do that? I was so close!”
“Do you have condoms?” he asks huskily.
And I’m pretty sure my brain short circuits for a second. Is this really happening? Blowjobs and fingering are one thing, but fucking is another. I’ve wanted to fuck Travis probably since our first kiss, if I’m being honest. But I don’t think I ever expected it to be an option. I don’t believe that sex needs to be reserved for love or anything like that, but with Travis—someone I’m already so close to—this feels like crossing a line that might change me forever.
His brow furrows. “Or do you not want to?”
“No!” I shout. Maybe too loudly. “I mean, yes. Yes! I very much want to, yes. Let’s do that. Right now.”
When he smiles at me, it warms my skin like a physical touch. “So, condoms?”
“Bathroom, under the sink.” I haven’t used any in a while, but I always keep a box with a safe expiration date, just in case.
He gets off the bed and goes to get them, and I use the few seconds to try to calm my racing heart. I want this so badly. Badly enough that I’m willing to leave behind any sense of self-preservation and risk the future heartache when we go back to being just friends.
When he steps out of the bathroom holding a condom, I spread my legs in anticipation. Climbing on top of me, he runs a hand up my ribs. It feels possessive. So does the look he gives me while he’s rolling the condom over his hard cock.
It’s possessive the way he pushes at the backs of my thighs to get me to pull my legs up. Like he owns me, when he hasn’t even been properly inside me yet.
I hook my arms around my knees, leaving my hole on full, slutty display for him. Begging him with my eyes to take me, own me.
It’s hard to remember what I told myself in the truck—that I can’t fall for him, that he doesn’t date. Because in this moment, it feels like I’m entirely his. And when his cock pushes inside me, inch by inch until he’s filling me completely, filling me in ways I didn’t even know I needed to be filled, it feels like I’ve always been his.
He kisses me, pressing my legs back even farther, then turns his head to breathe roughly in my ear. “You feel so good. Perfect. Fuck, you’re perfect.”
I moan back at him, words failing me. And apparently our roles have reversed, because for once, he’s the one who doesn’t stop talking. He keeps telling me how good I feel, keeps praising me, though I’m not even doing much besides taking his thrusts.
When I wrap my legs around him and scratch my nails down his back, he groans and slams his mouth over mine.
Possession. This is possession. The way he’s taking me, the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s claiming my lips, then only releasing them so he can duck his head down and claim my neck as well.
In between sucking and biting at me, he mumbles, “Wanted you for so long.”
I’m struck dumb by the words, by the bruising pressure of his mouth, by everything. I try to process what he said, because there’s no way that can be true. But my brain is pretty useless right now. The only things running through it are want, need, yes, more .
“Come on baby,” he says, eyes on me again. “Are you gonna come with me?”
I can’t look away from him. I can’t do much except nod and breathe heavily. He changes his angle and starts nailing my prostate on every thrust, sending stars shooting up my spine. I could probably come just like this, but I’m certainly not complaining when he reaches between us and grips my cock, stroking at a fast pace that matches the new pace of his hips.
“Oh god!” I cry out. A wave of pleasure washes over me, my cock swells in his fist, and then I’m coming hard, making a mess between us.
He groans and his hips stutter, and I feel the warmth of his cum filling the condom inside me. He collapses on top of me, and we both lie there, breathing like we finished a race.
Eventually, he shifts his weight off me, but he doesn’t go far. “That was...”
“Mmhmm,” I agree.
Fantastic, mind-blowing, hot as all fucking hell.
Everything. That was everything.
And I know I’m so screwed, but in this moment, I feel too good to care.