29. Whitney
29
WHITNEY
I should not have smoked that joint.
I haven’t smoked in years, maybe even since college. It’s not something I usually do, but I thought it would help me relax. Instead, I coughed for so long that I thought I was dying. Liam was nice enough to get me a glass of water, his eyes watching me carefully. I had to wave him off and remind him that I’m not a breakable thing. I’m fine.
Besides being way too high.
And way too turned on by Liam.
We only smoked half of it before I dissolved into a fit of laughter over Andy’s pronunciation of apartment that lasted a solid three minutes. Now, we’re settled on the couch watching Love Island. Liam’s got my feet up on his lap, his hands resting on my legs. His thumb is drawing soft circles against my calf, and the tiny motion should not be sending such an intense rush of heat through me, but it does. Every brush of his thumb on my skin feels like he’s branding me.
Mine , it says.
“Don’t you hate that Michael bloke? He’s playing a game,” Andy says from the other side of the couch.
“Yeah,” I croak out. “He’s the worst.”
Andy glances towards us. Liam’s laser-focused on the television. He hasn’t looked at me once since we sat down. Even though his hands are on me, his mind is clearly elsewhere.
“Well.” Andy slaps his thighs and stands. “I’m beat. Gonna call it a night.”
Liam snaps out of whatever daydream he was in and looks at his dad. “You sure?”
“Yep. See you in the morning!”
Before Liam or I can respond, Andy’s gone. The slam of his door rocks through the apartment, stilling Liam’s movements. His hand still rests on my ankle, but neither of us moves.
I clear my throat. “I guess we should go to bed, too.”
“You still stoned?” he asks, his voice deeper than usual.
I chuckle. “Only a little.”
He slips my legs off my lap and immediately I miss the warmth of our contact. “I’m gonna shower,” he says, crossing the room.
I turn off the TV and pour myself a glass of water before shuffling to my room. Maybe I’ll get lucky and I can just fall asleep before Liam gets back to the room. No whispering in the darkness. No pillow talk.
After slipping into my PJs, I crawl into bed and turn the lights to the lowest setting. I’m snuggled under the covers when I hear the door creak and shut softly. Liam is quiet as he moves around the room. My mind flashes with images of what he might be doing behind me. Is he changing clothes? Is he naked?
I’m just about to open my eyes when I feel the bed sink next to me and the covers lifting as Liam slides into bed. I shift my weight, turning over so I’m facing him. He’s shirtless — epically, beautifully shirtless — and I let my eyes fall to the ink on his chest, drawn again to the tattoo of a series of numbers on the side of his ribs.
“I thought you were asleep,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Want me to turn the light off?” he asks.
“Sure,” I whisper. He’s reaching over to turn the light off when I speak again. “What’s that tattoo? The numbers on the side of your ribs.”
His movements still as he glances back at me, his expression wary.
“It’s Luke’s birthday.”
I’m hit with a pang of sympathy at Liam’s grief. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much; I can both respect and understand that but sometimes I wish he would share more about what he’s feeling.
“That’s sweet,” I say, not wanting to pry any further. “I like your tattoos.”
Liam just stares at me, his expression hardening. “What are you doing?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“What are you doing? What is this? Staring up at me with those fucking endless eyes of yours in nothing but a t-shirt, telling me you like my tattoos.”
Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I glance away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to sleep together again,” he reminds me.
“I didn’t say that I didn’t want to. I said that we can’t.”
“Don’t play games with me,” he growls.
“I’m not.” I turn to face him again. “I’m not trying to. I care about you. I don’t want to mess with your head.”
“Well, I’m fucking confused, Whit.”
I shake my head and try to turn away from him again, but he reaches for my chin, making me look at him. He waits patiently for me to speak, his gaze not leaving mine.
“I’m confused, too. I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He runs his thumb across my jawline and up to my bottom lip, pressing against it, his hazel eyes locked onto me.
“Why not? We’re fucking amazing together. You know we are.”
My lips part involuntarily, like my body knows how to respond to him. He presses his thumb further, slipping it inside my mouth, and I swirl my tongue around it, meeting his gaze purposefully.
I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t seem to stop.
“Whitney,” he growls, his eyes widening. “I want you.”
I can’t help the whimper that escapes me.
“But… ” I grasp at straws. “Your dad.”
His other hand slides up my bare thigh to the tips of my t-shirt, fiddling with the hem. He smirks, his hand slipping under the shirt and caressing my stomach.
“You think I give a fuck? I want the whole neighborhood to hear you screaming my name.”
“Liam,” I whisper as his hand travels upwards, teasing closer and closer to my nipples which have hardened into peaks.
His gaze is unrelenting. “If we do this, it’s not the last time. Tell me right now that you’re not going to run away tomorrow, or we go to sleep right now.”
I frown, indecision swirling in my gut. On one hand, I’m terrified. Abbi was right: I can’t do casual. Even my random one-night stands left me checking my phone for texts, and I can’t imagine a world in which I’d be sleeping with Liam and not losing myself completely in him. On the other hand, I need him. I need him like I’ve never needed anyone before.
“I’m scared,” I admit, closing my eyes, unable to look at his face when I say it.
“Why?” He’s moved closer, his breath hot on the side of my neck.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?” he asks, pressing his lips to the side of my neck, his tongue swirling against my skin.
“No strings attached.”
I open my eyes as he pulls back, studying me.
“But I want to,” I say. “I want to try it with you. Casual. Just sex.”
He blinks, his expression inscrutable. “No running away?”
I nod, my stomach swirling with nerves. “No running away.”
Liam’s mouth descends on mine, his lips meeting me with a familiar intensity. I melt into him, my whole body sagging with the relief of his lips on mine. He tastes just as sweet as I remember, minty and fresh.
His fingers finally find my nipple, caressing me softly. I moan into his mouth, slipping my tongue in between his and reaching for his bare chest, sliding my hands across the inky lines there. He tugs at my t-shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift movement, then attaches his mouth to my nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud as his other hand slips into my panties.
“Already wet for me,” he groans, slipping a finger inside me. “Are you always this wet, Whitney?”
My cheeks redden at his dirty talk. I love it, but there’s something embarrassing about what he brings out in me. The wild abandon that only he seems to activate.
“Answer me,” he whispers, nibbling at my ear.
“Only for you,” I admit as his thumb circles against my clit and my hips buck towards him.
“Take them off. I want to see you.”
I waste no time, sliding my panties off. He presses me backwards and crawls on top of me, pressing my thighs open as he settles his legs in between them.
“So pretty. So ready for me.” He presses soft kisses on my neck, nudging my legs open wider. “Should I get a condom?”
I shake my head, pulling him against me. “Liam. Fuck me. Now.”
He chuckles and rubs his thumb against the inside of my thighs, teasing close to my entrance. He works one, two fingers inside me, and I gasp at the angle.
“So bossy,” he murmurs, watching me with hooded eyes. “Are you in charge now?”
I smirk and push against his chest. “Yes,” I say. “Get on your back.”
He flips us over so I’m on top, my hands resting on his chest. In one swift movement, I line our bodies and lower myself onto him. He stares at the spot where we’re joined together, his eyes wide. Thrusting against him, I lift myself up slightly before dropping down again, settling into a slow, torturous rhythm.
“Fuck,” he moans. “That’s it. Ride me.”
His hands move up to cup my breasts, his thumbs running over the peaks. Sitting up, he takes one in his mouth, meeting my thrusts as he swirls his tongue around my nipple.
“Faster,” he whispers, pressing against me.
I increase our speed, my breaths coming out in short bursts. He must get impatient because after a few thrusts, he flips me over so he’s on top again. He slides in and out, finding the spot where I need him. His thumb finds my clit, brushing against it as he thrusts into me.
“Liam,” I manage. “I’m gonna come.”
He increases his movements, both of us frantic and moaning and desperate. Black spots seem to form in my vision as I throw my head back, my fingers and toes tingling.
“Me too,” he says. “Fuck.”
A rush of heat spreads through me as I feel Liam lose himself, both of us coming apart at the seams. The wave seems to last forever, and when I finally come down, Liam is laying on top of me, both of us spent. After a few moments, his weight shifts as he grabs one of my towels. He wipes my legs down gently before pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.
“Can we cuddle?” I ask, breathless. “Or is that too string-y? Do friends-with-benefits cuddle?”
He chuckles. “Of course we can. Pretty sure you were attached to me like a sloth last time.”
I shove him away from me. “That was all you!”
He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, our naked bodies tangled together. His warmth surrounding me, I can’t help the swell in my heart. As Liam and I settle together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle, my eyes flutter closed, and for the first time in forever, I feel safe.
I wake up with Liam pressed against me.
All of him.
I can feel his length pressing against me, so I burrow closer, grinding my ass into him. He stirs behind me with a low groan, the sound sending a wave of heat through me. Even after last night, I find myself desperate for more. Turning over, I trace my hand down his chest, finding his hardness and wrapping my hand around him.
He inhales a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling quickly. Shifting my weight, I lift the covers and move between his thighs.
I should wake him up and make sure this is okay with him.
Just as I’m about to, I glance up and see his eyes open wide. I smile softly, then open my mouth and slide my tongue across his length, taking him into my mouth.
“Whitney,” he whispers. “Fuck. What are you doing?”
His hips buck slightly against my mouth as I swirl my tongue, bobbing my head up and down.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, pulling back to wait for his permission.
“No,” he chokes out. “Don’t stop.”
I smirk again, taking him deeper in my mouth, keeping my eyes trained on his blissful expression.
“Fuck, yeah. Look at me. You look so pretty like this, Whit.”
I moan against him, loving his praise. Needing it. Needing to make him feel as good as he makes me feel. He rests his hand on my head, his thumb caressing my hair softly. His grip is gentle but possessive, and the feeling of it makes me want to take him deeper.
“Your mouth is so fucking sweet,” he rasps. “I’m not gonna last long.”
Taking him as deep as I can, I swirl my tongue against his length. Lifting off him, I take his length in my hand and stroke him, feeling bold.
“I want you to come on me. Mark me.”
He moves quickly, flipping over so I’m underneath him as he replaces my hand with his own, gripping his cock in his hands. “Shit. You want that? Can I?”
I nod, licking my lips as he strokes the length of him. His other hand splays lightly across my neck, resting around my throat without any pressure.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” he sputters as he releases onto my chest and stomach. “Oh my God.”
He lowers himself onto his elbows, breathing rapidly. The only sound in the room is our breaths, in-sync and labored.
He glances up at me, a satisfied grin across his face. “Good morning,” he whispers. He lifts off me to grab the towel off the ground and wipe me off, as gentle as he was last night.
I laugh. “Morning.”
“I wish every morning started this way. I’d be in much better spirits.”
“Who knew orgasms would be the best way to tame your grumpy attitude?” I smirk at him, sitting up. Liam wraps his hand around the back of my neck, bringing his lips down to mine.
“You look so pretty covered in my cum,” he whispers, causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh. “I want to see you tied up and covered in it.”
His words send another wave of desire through me, so I push him lightly and slide out of bed to get dressed. If I keep listening to him, we’ll never leave this bed. Not that I’m entirely opposed to that.
“Sorry,” his gravelly voice says from behind me. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Will you please tell me if I am?”
I whip my head back to him, his gaze steady but unsure.
Vulnerable.
Crossing back to him, I wrap my arms around his neck, stepping in between his thighs as he looks up at me.
“I love your dirty mouth. You haven’t made me uncomfortable at all,” I tell him, swiping my hand across his hair and tucking it behind his ear.
“Okay,” he says, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I feel safe with you.”
No strings attached. No strings attached.
Liam takes my hand and presses a soft kiss at the center of my palm, his molten eyes staring up at me, the flecks of gold somehow brighter in the morning light.
“Come on,” he says, tugging on my hand. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
I’m a goner.