13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
T he alarm on Isaac’s phone buzzed low, vibrating against the nightstand.
6:00 AM. Tuesday. Work day.
He exhaled slowly, blinking against the early morning light seeping in through the blinds, the weight of last night still thick in his chest, in his body, in the way Rosie was still curled into his side, warm and soft and fucking perfect.
He stared down at her, at the way her bare leg was thrown over his, the way her fingers were still curled loosely against his ribs.
Jesus.
He was so fucked.
And he needed to get up before he did something stupid.
With excruciating control, Isaac slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. He grabbed a clean set of clothes, padded to the bathroom, and turned the shower on cold—because fuck, he needed it.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, stepping under the spray, letting the water hammer against his shoulders, trying to shake off the hunger still sitting deep in his gut.
Because that’s what this was.
A hunger. A fucking need.
And it wasn’t going away.
Not after last night.
Not after knowing exactly how she felt, exactly how she sounded, exactly how she tasted when she fell apart in his arms.
Not after years of pretending she was just his best friend.
Isaac braced his hands against the tiled wall, breathing hard.
Fuck.
Twenty minutes.
He’d give himself twenty minutes to get his shit together, get dressed, get out the door.
And then he’d figure out whatever the hell this was later.
When he stepped into the kitchen ten minutes later, towel-drying his hair, he stopped short.
Rosie was there.
Bare-legged.
In his fucking t-shirt.
Drinking coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His entire body tightened.
Her long, dark hair was still messy from sleep, her glasses perched on her nose, legs crossed at the counter like she had no idea she was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.
The air between them changed instantly.
Tense. Charged.
She looked up at him over the rim of her coffee cup, blinking once, twice, her lips cherry-red and slightly swollen from last night.
“Morning,” she said.
Isaac didn’t answer.
Didn’t think.
Didn’t fucking hesitate.
He was on her in two strides, closing the gap, picking her up effortlessly, her coffee sloshing in the mug as she let out a surprised gasp.
Her thighs wrapped around his waist on instinct, her fingers gripping his shoulders, steadying herself.
“Good morning, baby,” he muttered against her mouth before he crushed her lips with his.
Fuck, she tasted like coffee and sleep, like last night and everything he wanted more of.
She made a soft, breathless sound, her fingers sliding into his damp hair.
That sound alone was enough to make him hard as a fucking rock.
He groaned, palming her ass, pressing her tight against him, letting her feel exactly what she did to him.
His cock was already aching, already ready to be inside her again.
And fuck, he had twenty minutes.
Maybe thirty.
They could make it work.
She was bare underneath this shirt.
No panties.
Perfect.
He was already pressing her onto the counter, his fingers sliding up her thighs, spreading her open.
But then—
She braced a hand against his chest, pushing back slightly.
“Isaac,” she breathed, half-kissed, half-warning.
He kissed her again, groaning into her mouth. “Mm?”
She let him take another slow, deep taste, before pulling back again, firmer this time.
“Isaac, I am not ‘baby’ and I’m not having casual sex with you.”
He stilled.
Then grinned, leaning into her, nipping at her bottom lip.
“It’s not casual,” he said, sliding a hand between her legs, feeling just how ready she already was.
She sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip, trying to fight the pull.
Isaac smirked. “It’s just the tax for staying here.”
Rosie froze.
Her entire body went rigid in his hands.
Her eyes snapped up, narrowing sharply.
Fuck.
Okay. Wrong fucking thing to say.
“Jesus, I was kidding,” he muttered immediately, backpedaling, kissing her jaw, trying to distract her.
She wasn’t having it.
She glared. “Not funny.”
“Rosie,” he groaned, nipping at her neck, trailing his lips lower, his fingers still teasing her. “I swear, I was just—”
She let out a shaky breath, trying to fight him, trying to stay mad.
But he was already two fingers deep inside her.
Already curling them just right, already making her body turn against her, making her squirm, making her want him just as bad.
“Isaac,” she warned, but her voice wasn’t strong anymore.
“Yeah?” he muttered, kissing his way down her throat. “You were saying?”
She was breathing heavy, glaring, but fucking melting, too.
And Isaac knew he had her.
But he also knew he had to do this right.
He slowed down, softened just slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his fingers still moving deep inside her.
“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said, tracing his lips over hers, soft and slow and careful.
Her breath hitched.
She stared at him, something unreadable flickering behind those blue, blue eyes.
“You keep going,” she whispered, voice thick, uneven, laced with something dangerous, “and there’s no going back.”
His breath stilled in his chest.
Then he grinned, cocky and reckless and absolutely fucking gone for her.
“Rosie,” he said, pressing his thick, aching cock against her core, letting her feel exactly how gone he was.
“There already is no going back.”
Her lips parted, a single moment of realization flashing across her face.
And Isaac capitalized.
He lifted her off the counter, hauling her against him, carrying her straight back to his bedroom.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs tight around his waist, her body burning against his.
He kicked the door shut, dropped her onto the bed, climbing over her, his hands everywhere, his mouth devouring hers, his cock already pressing against her slick heat.
She was breathless beneath him, her chest rising and falling, her pupils blown wide, her fingers fisting his t-shirt.
Isaac unzipped his fly, his need so fucking intense it was a physical ache. He would say anything, do anything, give her anything—as long as she let him inside her again.
“Rosie,” he whispered against her lips, his voice all gravel and heat, desperate and reckless.
“Let me have you again.”
Isaac knew the exact moment she gave in. It was in the way her body softened beneath him, how her fingers tightened in his shirt, how her lips parted with a sharp, uneven breath that told him everything he already knew—
She was too into him. Always had been. And he fucking loved it. Loved that no matter how much she pushed, resisted, fought against the inevitable, she always caved for him.
He kissed her hard, grinning against her mouth, his hands already everywhere—spreading her open, pulling her closer, making her feel exactly how much he wanted her.
His cock was already thick and heavy against her slick heat, already aching, desperate to be buried inside her pussy.
And then—
He was.
With a sharp, brutal thrust, he was seated deep inside her pussy, punching a gasp from her throat, making her arch and tremble and squeeze his cock so goddamn tight.
“Fuck,” Isaac gritted out, his grip bruising on her hips as he started thrusting.
She was so fucking tight, so wet, so perfectly made for him. Her nails bit into his arms, her body writhing beneath him, her breath already catching, and he loved it. Loved that he was wrecking her. Loved that no one else had ever had her like this. Loved that no one else ever would.
But it wasn’t enough. He was fucking feral. Isaac pulled out sharply, ignoring her startled gasp as he gripped her hips, flipping her onto her stomach.
“On your knees, baby,” he muttered, voice all gravel and heat.
She shuddered but obeyed, pushing up onto all fours, her spine arching perfectly, her ass up in the air, tempting, taunting, waiting for him.
He stood beside the bed, dragging his cock over her slick pussy entrance, teasing her, making her whimper.
“You need it like this, don’t you?” he said, gripping her hips, controlling the exact moment he’d push back inside her.
“Isaac,” she gasped, already squirming, desperate.
He smirked, thrusting in with one hard stroke.
Her whole body jolted, a sharp cry spilling from her lips.
“That’s it,” he growled, snapping his hips forward, pushing deeper, harder, making her feel every inch of him.
She fisted the sheets, moaning loud, her head dropping forward as he pounded into her.
“Fuck, listen to you,” he muttered, watching the way she took his cock, the way her body clenched, the way her moans broke with every thrust.
“Harder,” she cried out.
“So fucking needy for me,” he answered, gripping a fistful of her hair, tugging her head back so she had no choice but to take the long, hard length of his cock. He quickened his pace, going rougher, harder.
“You like this, baby?” he said against her ear. “Like how I’m fucking you?”
She moaned, helpless and wrecked. “Mm, yeah.”
“You love it,” he muttered, dragging his palm over her ass, squeezing, spreading her pussy wider until he was buried to the hilt. “You love being a little slut for me, don’t you?”
“I am not.” She gasped, shaking her head, but fuck, her body told the truth.
He grinned, thrusting into her harder, rougher, making her cry out.
“Don’t lie to me,” he growled.
“I’m not.” She let out a soft, broken sound, her body clenching tight around him, giving herself away. “Not for you.”
Isaac groaned, his control slipping, his fingers biting into her hips as he fucked her deep and relentless.
“Wrong answer. You’re mine now, slut,” he muttered, voice rough, possessive.
“Isaac—“ She gasped, her fingers scrambling for purchase against the sheets.
“You’ve always been mine,” he continued, dragging his lips down her spine, making her shiver. “We both fucking know it.”
Her breath caught.
“Tell me,” he demanded, slamming his cock into her at a ravenous pace, making her shake in his grasp.
She cried out, half-gone, half-ruined. He could tell she was on the verge of screaming. He wanted her there.
Whatever thin thread of control he had left—snapped.
He was fucking feral, driving into her so hard the bed slammed against the wall, so deep she could do nothing but take it, so raw and unhinged that he didn’t care about anything but owning her, keeping her, making sure she knew exactly who the fuck she belonged to.
Rosie was a wreck beneath him.
Face down, back arched, knees barely holding her up, her fingers twisted in the sheets like she was desperately holding onto reality.
But Isaac didn’t want her in reality.
He wanted her here, in this moment, in his bed, in his hands, losing herself for him and only him.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her up, flush against his chest, one arm banded tight across her stomach, holding her in place as he slammed into her.
Her head dropped back against his shoulder, her mouth falling open, her body quivering with every deep, punishing thrust.
“That’s it, baby,” he muttered into her ear, his voice dark, rough, raw. “Fucking take it. Take me.”
She gasped, whimpered, moaned, lost in the relentless rhythm of his body driving into hers.
“You’re mine,” he growled against her throat, biting down, leaving marks, staking a claim.
She shuddered, nails digging into his arms, back arching, thighs squeezing.
“Say it again,” he ordered, his grip tightening on her hips, his thrusts going brutal, deep, relentless.
“Yours,” she gasped.
“Louder.”
“Yours, Isaac!” she cried out, voice breaking, body shaking.
And fuck, that did it.
His cock throbbed, his control fucking shattered, his body tightening as he pounded into her one last time.
She screamed his name, her whole body clenching so fucking tight around him, pulsing, gripping, dragging him down with her.
Isaac gritted his teeth, groaning deep and guttural as he came, his body jerking, his release spilling deep inside her.
His arms locked around her, holding her against him, his breath ragged, sharp, unsteady.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, the aftershocks of pleasure wracking their bodies, the smell of sweat and sex thick in the air.
Rosie was shaking, silent, still trying to catch her breath, her head dropped forward.
Isaac kissed the back of her neck lazily, his grip loosening just slightly, letting her body relax against his.
He smirked, pressing one last slow, claiming kiss to her shoulder as he laid her down.
“Good girl,” he muttered, a satisfied, cocky rasp.
She didn’t respond but just curled into the pillow and the sheets. Eyes closed. Just lay there, breathing heavy, motionless, spent.
He grinned, kissing the curve of her spine before finally pulling away, giving her one last slap on the ass as he pushed off the bed.
“Fuck, I needed that,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.
Still half-hard from how fucking good that was, but he had to move. It was late as hell, and he was already pushing it for work. He grabbed a clean towel from the dresser, wiped himself off, ran a quick hand over his jaw.
Rosie still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t said a word.
“Careful, baby,” he said, tossing the towel in the hamper, already heading for the door. “You might actually get addicted to this.”
Still—nothing.
No smirk, no eye roll, no usual snappy comeback.
Just her lying there, quiet, still, staring at nothing.
Isaac figured she was just fucked out, still processing, probably in that post-orgasm haze where her brain had short-circuited.
No big deal.
She’d be fine.
“Keep my bed warm for me, Coco.” Isaac smirked, watching her from the doorway.
Finally, she turned, and said, “Okay.”
That little grin was enough for him. If he had more time he’d be there trying to kiss her senseless again. But he didn’t. He was fucking late. So he turned and left, leaving a brand new situation behind him.