Chapter 9 #2
His mouth moved against mine with maddening control…soft and coaxing, then suddenly demanding. His tongue teased at my bottom lip, licking into my mouth with long, deep sweeps th at had my knees quivering. A low sound vibrated in his chest, and the noise shot through me like thunder.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling back just far enough to look into my eyes, his voice wrecked. “I can’t believe you made me live without this.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch to the chest, but I couldn’t make myself pull away. I couldn’t make myself tell him to stop. Not when my entire body was begging me to do the opposite.
He tilted his head and kissed me again, deeper this time, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like he was savoring the taste of me. Like he’d missed it, too. Like he’d counted every day since he last had it.
And fuck, I wanted to scream, Me too .
My arms wound around his neck before I could think better of it, my fingers slipping into his hair like I was starving. His other hand dropped to my hip, and he tugged me flush against him, molding to mine, heat pouring off him in waves, and then—oh. Oh.
There it was.
His dick.
Hard. Massive. Dangerous .
The pressure of it against my stomach made my breath hitch. I froze, barely daring to glance down.
Dear Santa , I take back everything bad I ever said about Christmas .
My mouth went dry. My brain short-circuited.
Because Easton’s dick— the dick —wasn’t just good.
It was weaponized. Like, certified large-scale emergency, evacuate-the-building kind of weaponized.
It was very much not exaggerated by memory.
It was worse . Or better. Depending on your survival instincts.
And apparently, mine had left the chat.
I’d tried to convince myself I’d just been remembering it wrong. Everything must have felt huge as a virgin with zero experience with any dicks but his. But nope. I hadn’t been imagining anything. The huge pole trying to find its home was like a giant boa constrictor.
And I was thirsty for it.
Easton smirked against my mouth like he knew , the arrogant bastard, and I felt the low, lazy roll of his hips, like he was deliberately letting me feel what I’d been missing.
When he pulled back, I chased his lips, whimpering in a blind, lust-driven haze.
“Fuck,” I whispered, eyes fluttering. “You’re still ridiculously big.”
“You’re still ridiculously sexy,” he shot back, his lips brushing mine like he couldn’t stay away for more than a second. “We all have our curses.”
I whimpered, actually whimpered , like some kind of Victorian ghost with a corset problem. My fingers tightened in his hair, and when he pulled back again, just slightly, I followed him instinctively, breathless and wild.
“I need…” I didn’t even know what I was about to say. A glass of water? A fire extinguisher? A lobotomy?
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to give us both what we need,” Easton murmured, the words rough and reverent as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
Time fractured.
The brick wall scraped against my back, grounding me in the here and now, but everything else, the cold air, the noise from the bar, the ache in my chest that hadn’t eased since I walked away…faded to nothing.
He looked up at me like I was something holy.
“Easton.” I gasped, already trembling as his hands slid over my thighs and pushed up my dress.
His palms were warm and steady, anchoring me even as they made me feel like I might fall apart.
He leaned in, dragging the bridge of his nose up the center of my panties, inhaling like he was starved for the scent of me.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re even better than I remembered. ”
Easton shoved my panties aside, his fingers dragging over my smooth skin before he slid them through my folds.
“So fucking wet for me, sweetheart,” he breathed, a smug smile on his lips.
The way he said it—like he was wrecked with the knowledge—shouldn’t have sent a shiver down my spine, but it did. It was the honesty in it. The ache.
“I…” I tried to say something, anything. But my body was louder than my voice, already rocking against his touch.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, fingers teasing, hovering just shy of where I needed him.
I was literally shaking against the brick wall of the building as I tried to focus on not collapsing into a puddle. The cold didn’t seem to exist as I stared down at him, flames licking across my skin.
“Do it,” I rasped. “Make me come.” The words fell out before I could catch them.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he murmured, sliding two fingers inside me like he’d never stopped knowing how to touch me. I bit down on my lip, my head falling back against the wall as he rubbed against that perfect spot inside me. His thumb circled my clit in slow, devastating strokes, and I sobbed.
He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, his stubble scraping my skin in the way I used to crave. “You’re so tight,” he groaned as his fingers fucked in and out of me in the perfect rhythm.
Had it always felt this good? This right?
Fuck. It had.
“Such a greedy pussy,” he murmured, pulling his fingers out and lightly slapping my core.
“Easton,” I panted, my body bowing toward him as he thrust his fingers back inside me. I felt like I was flying and unraveling at the same time.
“I fucking love it.” He forced another finger inside, and I thrashed against him, my body trying to stretch the way he wanted me to. Easton ripped my underwear off like it had offended him, throwing them somewhere behind him before he caught my thigh and lifted it over his shoulder.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he buried his face against my sex, his tongue sucking and flicking as it moved through my folds. I gripped his hair, holding him against me, well aware how intimate this was.
I’d never admit this, but I hadn’t let anyone go down on me since I’d broken up with him. It had felt too personal…too much.
And now here I was giving it to my ex in the back alley of a bar.
Classy , Natalie . Real classy .
That thought slipped away as his hand squeezed my ass and his lips sucked hard on my clit.
Fuck being classy. This felt far too good.
I squeezed my thighs, crying out at the sensation of his fingers and his tongue and his rough stubble scratching against my skin.
“Missed this, baby. You taste like fucking heaven,” he growled as his tongue replaced his fingers in my core, lapping in and out of me for a moment before he pulled away.
I watched wide-eyed as he unbuttoned his jeans, his giant cock springing out, the tip angry and hot-looking.
I was in a fever dream as pre-cum dribbled from his head, dripping on the concrete beneath him.
My mouth was literally watering staring at it.
“Can’t have me coming in my pants when we’re going to have to go back in there after this,” he rasped.
“Right.” I gasped, feeling like I might be able to come just from watching him start to jack himself off.
Hearing him in the shower today…another thing I’d never admit, it had almost broken me.
This , though, this was definitely going to break me.
Easton went back to work, and my hands fisted in his hair as I thrashed against his face. Fuck. This was another reason that I hadn’t even bothered.
I was quite sure that no other guy could ever eat me out like this. Easton gave me head like it was his favorite thing in the world. Like he actually craved it. He was moaning as he licked through my folds, tonguing my clit as his hand that wasn’t fucking into me pulled at his dick.
I panted, arching against his face as he forced another finger inside me.
Sucking and licking, he pushed me closer to the edge.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, about shrieking when his finger suddenly grazed there .
The bar door started to open, and he ripped his face out from between my legs. “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled, sounding a little…crazy. The door slammed shut so fast I wasn’t even sure who’d tried to come out—who might’ve seen what we were doing.
But Easton didn’t care.
He got right back to work, like he needed to worship me to stay alive, tonguing my clit as everything in me tightened.
“So close,” I breathed.
He growled against me, and that sound alone might’ve tipped me over the edge. But then his fingers curled just right, and the orgasm crashed through me so violently that my scream was swallowed by the night air. My body thrashed against his mouth, every muscle seizing as the world turned white.
Tears were sliding down my cheeks from how good it felt.
Easton didn’t give me time to think. “On your knees,” he suddenly commanded, and without a thought I dropped to the cold ground, still shaking, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to warn me of what I already knew—this was dangerous. This was everything.
Easton’s hand was tight around himself, his chest rising and falling in hard, ragged pants. His eyes were wild, burning with something too bright to name. “Open up, Trouble.”
I did. Obediently. Like I always had for him.
A strangled gasp erupted from his chest as he came, ropes of cum hitting my tongue and my face and my neck as he fucked his fist. I swallowed what I could, moaning at the flavor of him.
It was so much better than I’d remembered.
I licked my lips, trying to capture each drop as my fingers scooped up the sticky mess on my chin and chest.
Easton just watched.
His gaze burned. His breathing ragged.
We stayed like that, our gasps filling the air around us, our eyes tangled in a silent war as he watched me taste him.
Then sense started to return, slowly, like creeping frost.
I froze, my finger still pressed to my tongue.
What the hell had just happened?
I had thought, stupidly, that maybe this would get him out of my system . That I’d finally feel closure. Like I’d scratched the itch and could walk away clean.
But no. I wanted him.
Even more .
My whole body still ached for him, my skin burning where he’d touched me, my heart pounding with the echo of everything we hadn’t said.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him toward me, and frantically used the fabric to wipe the remaining slickness from my chest.
“Natalie,” he murmured, but I couldn’t stay to see what he wanted to talk about. I scrambled to my feet, practically sprinting up the alley to where the street beckoned me like a safe haven.
The cold air burned my lungs as I ran, my heels slipping on the wet pavement.
“Natalie, wait?—”
Nope. Not happening. Because if I waited, I might look back. And if I looked back, I might go back . And if I went back…
We all knew how that story ended.
I shoved through the front doors of the bar like I was storming a battlefield, weaving around a couple pressed against the wall in a sloppy, open-mouthed embrace.
The music was louder now—too loud—the bass thumping so hard it vibrated in my chest, but none of it could drown out the noise in my head.
I beelined for a different bar across the room. New bartender. New location. New identity, maybe?
Because the last one? The one who’d let her ex kneel in front of her like a sinner in a confessional and come undone in an alley behind a karaoke bar? That version of her needed to go into witness protection.
“Whiskey,” I barked, sliding onto the barstool like a woman on a mission. “And make it a double.”
The bartender, a guy with tattooed forearms and an eyebrow piercing, barely blinked before pouring.
I grabbed the glass and knocked it back in one go, relishing the burn. It chased down the taste of him still clinging to my lips, my tongue, my soul.
Fuck.
What was wrong with me?
I tapped the bar for another, throat tight, stomach twisted, and lifted the second drink to my lips just as the hairs on the back of my neck rose like a warning flare.
I didn’t have to turn around.
I knew he was there.
Easton’s presence rolled over me like a fog…thick, suffocating, laced with memories I didn’t want but couldn’t forget. I could feel him at my back, feel the weight of his stare burrowing into the soft, cracked places I’d spent years patching up.
I swallowed hard, then took another sip. Slower this time. Like it made me seem more in control. Like I wasn’t completely falling apart on the inside.
The stool next to me scraped across the floor, and my sister—because of course—slid in beside me, her face flushed with alcohol and a little too much glee .
She propped her elbows on the bar and gave me a once-over .
Then she glanced over her shoulder. To him. Still standing near the back exit, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes trained on me like I was some fragile bird he’d broken and didn’t know how to fix.
And then her gaze slid back to me.
Her smirk was slow. Sharp. A dagger dipped in glitter.
“Guess I won my bet,” she said casually, like I hadn’t just emotionally combusted behind a dumpster.
I scowled and threw back another shot.
The warmth spread through my veins, but it wasn’t enough to erase the truth?—
I was screwed.