48. Kieran
KIERAN
Producer: “How do you know when you’re actually in love?”
Kieran: “If it ever happens, I’ll let you know.”
What is it about Jace I can’t resist? I didn’t understand it then, and I sure as hell don’t understand it now.
We’re older, we should be past taunting and degrading each other.
But when I’m horny around him, it’s like I’m eighteen again.
I still want him, no matter how much I shouldn’t.
I hate how much I was silently begging for him to take it even further.
To call me his cockslut like he did back then, like I called him last night.
I certainly wasn’t expecting him to throw in the praise. Or how much I liked that too.
My thighs are still shaking, body still raw from having him inside me.
I hate how well he still seems to know me.
Hate that my body betrays me every time he’s near.
Hate that no matter how much I tell myself this is just a release, I know I’m lying to myself.
I still want him. Still ache for him. Still want him to fuck me again.
But I refuse to tell him that.
I’ll keep telling myself I hate him, because it’s the only thing that even halfway protects me. It was so easy to hate him all those years we were apart. Easy to focus on only the bad things that happened back then, and to build him up as a villain without giving him a chance to redeem himself.
Now, after only a couple of days together, it doesn’t seem to matter how many years I swore I’d never let him—or anyone like him—touch me again. I never thought it would even be possible that we’d end up here, but I let him have his way with me. I asked him to.
No one’s ever fucked me like that. No one’s ever known what I needed without me having to ask.
My desires have always been silent, because I’ve never trusted anyone to keep it between us.
I didn’t want it blasted on gossip sites that I like to be degraded and taunted while I’m being fucked relentlessly.
Of course, Jace had to go and fuck me damn near perfectly. He’s always known exactly what I needed, and when he drove into me tonight, it was so easy to surrender to him. My body seemed to remember him, trusted him even.
And even though I might want to, I can’t let myself march back out there and demand he fuck me again.
This is Jace, the man responsible for so much of my past hurt. He’s also JR, an unhelpful voice reminds me. But I can’t allow myself to think of him that way, to blur those lines. I’d be giving too much of myself away, exposing myself to even more potential heartbreak.
Instead, I clean myself up, brush my teeth, wash my face, and decide it’s time to leave the bathroom.
Unlocking the door, I twist the knob and make my way back into the bedroom. Jace is sitting on the bed, watching me as I climb in. I assume he’ll get up and go into the bathroom, but he just stares at me.
“Aren’t you going to clean yourself up?” I prompt after a moment when he doesn’t move.
“I already did,” he says easily. “I went into the other bathroom in the living area.”
“You did what?” Does he not understand there are cameras all over the place out there?
“Don’t worry, I got fully dressed to go out there, cleaned up, then came right back in here to change.”
“Fine,” I mutter, grateful he was careful and didn’t walk out there butt ass naked with a used condom on his softening dick.
I pull the covers up to my chest and roll onto my side with my back to him. The sheets are cool against my skin, but it does nothing to slow the heat still burning in me.
He still doesn’t move, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.
“You gonna sleep or just stare at me all night?” I mutter.
“Depends, what do you want me to do?”
God, he’s infuriating. Why is he the only one who’s ever given me attention like this in private?
“Go to sleep, Jace.”
He shifts behind me, and I feel his body close to mine. My pulse jumps because I don’t know if I want space or for him to pull me in close and wrap his big body around mine.
Instead, he seems to settle on a third option. He doesn’t touch me, but it’s close enough that if I just scoot back a little bit, I’ll be pressed into him. He’s leaving the choice up to me, and I am, once again, at war with myself.
As much as I love words of affirmation, I have to admit, physical touch might be climbing my love-language chart.
At least when it’s Jace who’s touching me.
I keep thinking about the way it felt to be surrounded by him.
It didn’t mean anything when it was for the camera.
But when it’s just the two of us, where no one else can see…
I think I like it more than I want to admit.
But I don’t scoot into him.
I already handed too much of myself to him tonight.