Chapter 23
twenty-three
JOHANNA
“ Here , let me remind you,” Patrick says, the deep timber of his voice vibrating through to my bones.
“ Remind me?” It’s possible my brain has melted. The game. Of course. I asked him to show me how to hit the ball with the stick-thing. Cue . He’s told me that like eight times.
I’m pulled from my internal rambling when Patrick’s palm glides from my elbow to my wrist, where the cue is balanced, and his hand envelops mine. His support doesn’t stop me from shaking, and I think my whole body is pulsing with need at this point.
With his chest flush to my back, he helps aim the cue at the white ball. I try to funnel all my concentration into what he’s showing me, but my mind is on anything but the game. I’ve had a one-track mind since the moment he came up behind me.
And I remind myself he’s just teaching me. Nothing more.
Get your head out of your vagina, Johanna .
He brings our arms back in tandem. “ Just like that.” His breath coasts across my shoulders, and goose bumps rise on my arms that he’s sure to notice.
Without warning, he pops our arms forward, and the cue follows our movements, hitting the ball dead center. The satisfying crack reverberates around us, and the air leaves my lungs in a rush as the solid green ball drops into the pocket with a thud. I can’t even remember if I’m solids or stripes at this point.
I should be excited that I’ve finally pocketed a ball. My mind and body are too distracted by the way Patrick remains draped over me. He could step away now if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t.
The air is so thick around us, like a fog of anticipation. The crackling energy surrounding us is enough to shake the foundations of this empty bar and bring it tumbling down, with no care in the world.
I try to ignore my arousal, but it’s difficult when I can feel Patrick’s dick nestled against my ass. Every hard plane of his chest and abs is pressed against me, keeping me pinned between him and the pool table. This first innocent game now feels anything but. A buzzing starts beneath the surface of my skin. My breaths are coming in fast. Wetness pools between my legs.
We’ve tried to pull back the reins on what’s going on between us, both aware that there’s a lot to discuss before diving headfirst into the whirlwind of this unquestionable magnetism. We lose all sense whenever we’re alone, and right now, no one is here.
The edge of the table digs into my hips, causing me to shimmy them to ease the discomfort, but a groan from behind stops me and I realize I’m grinding my ass into him. I should be mortified that I’ve just rubbed myself up against him like a dog in heat, but I’m not. I also don’t stop myself from repeating the movement, because I’m desperate to hear that noise from him again. All deep and throaty.
Before I convince myself this is a bad idea, my ass shifts against him again, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he does. He allows me a few seconds of stolen pleasure, and then his hands fly to my hips to halt my movements.
“ Jo ,” he grits out, as though he’s in pain. “ What are you doing to me?”
“ I don’t know what you mean.” I try to sound innocent, but he sees right through it.
“ I think you know exactly what I mean.” Dropping his head to the crook of my neck, he lets out a breath.
“ Just for one night.” Maybe I say it to give him an out? To see if he’s only looking for one night. With every fiber in me, I hope he isn’t. I twist my upper body around, our mouths a whisper away and eyes hazy with lust. “ It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“ It’ll mean everything, though,” he whispers, the movement causing his lips to brush against mine.
I regret not doing it sooner, that’s what he said about our kiss in his study. And god, I share that same regret. My lips brush against his, testing the waters, before pulling back. I practically preen when his eyes fall heavy with want and he presses himself into me harder.
“ I don’t want to fight this anymore.”
We’re toeing the line. If we do this, there’s no forgetting tonight.
“ We need to talk.” His movements contradict his words, because he grips my hips harder and trails his lips across my shoulder. “ I want you so fucking badly, you have no idea, but… Fuck it.”
And that’s all it takes.
Large fingers splay across my hips in a bruising manner as he grips me from behind. He presses himself into me with a light thrust, the cold metal of his belt buckle cools my overheating skin, and a gasp slips free when I feel just how badly he wants me.
Another gasp escapes me when Patrick grabs my nape with his left hand and directs my hips to where he wants them with the other. He’s using my body for his own pleasure. It’s filthy and depraved, and I can’t stop myself from thrusting my hips backward to meet his. With a firm grip on my neck, he turns my head and crashes his lips into mine. This kiss doesn’t start off slow—it’s needy and aggressive. It’s as if someone has told us we have seconds to live, and this is all the time we have left to savor each other.
He pulls his mouth from mine. “ Jesus , Jo . Why does this feel so good?” he rasps.
“ Don’t stop, whatever you do.” I lean forward and spread my fingers across the green tabletop. We’re grinding up against each other with no resolve, fully clothed, no care about where we are.
“ I’m not stopping unless you tell me to. Please tell me you’re sober enough for this?”
“ I haven’t drank in hours. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
And he doesn’t. He takes control.
The hand at my nape slips around to grip the front of my throat with the slightest of pressure, guiding us back so we’re standing upright. His other hand slinks around to my chest and yanks at the cups of my corset top, causing me to pant harder when the cool air caresses my aching nipples. He wraps the hair hanging over my shoulder around his fist, giving himself full access to my neck and bare chest. A shiver breaks out when he leaves a trail of hot kisses from my shoulder to the sensitive skin behind my ear. I reach behind me and grip his shirt, belt, anything I can to stop myself from floating away from how high he’s making me feel.
“ No fucking bra, I knew it. Did you wear this outfit for me?” He drops my hair and brings his hands to my rib cage, dragging them up my sides until he’s cupping my breasts, his rough palms skimming against my nipples. He’s going to drag this out, torture me with the barest of touches, but he changes tactics as he starts to play with the hardened peaks. Pulling , twisting, pinching.
“ You did wear this for me. You knew exactly what it would do to me when I saw your tight little ass molded in these jeans. It’s a good thing they’re already ruined, because I’m this close to ripping them off you.” He holds out his pointer and thumb to accentuate his point. And god, do I want him to tear the denim from my skin, because there are too many layers between us.
“ I wore it for me.”
“ You’re lying. That’s okay though, because I enjoyed the view anyway. You drive me insane, and I think you know it.”
The weight of Patrick’s body disappears, and I fall forward. I look over my shoulder, but he hasn’t gone far, and the sight before me steals the breath from my lungs.
He’s on his fucking knees.
“ Stay facing the front,” he commands. “ And bend forward for me, love. Let me take a look at this perfect ass.”
He hums in appreciation as I follow his order. His hands inch around to my front and begin to untangle the knot in the apron. Patience isn’t his virtue though, because after two seconds he grasps hold of the strings and pulls, snapping it instantly and throwing it on top of the pool table. Deft fingers flick open the button of my jeans and ease my zipper down. He’s acting like he has all the time in the world as his fingertips glide and caress across the exposed skin above my lace underwear. The featherlight touch has my stomach hollowing and goose bumps erupting across my body.
I don’t want slow caresses or careful touches. I want deliberate and desperate.
The fucker chuckles behind me as I squirm in his hold. “ Patrick , stop teasing me, you shit.”
His laughter rings around the bar, like I’m not about to spontaneously combust.
“ Why ? What’s up, Johanna ?” He places and gentle kiss to the pebbled skin revealed behind the rip, and then tugs my jeans until they fall to my knees. “ Oh , I see the problem.” A kiss to my other cheek now. “ You’ve soaked through your panties.” A slow lick this time. “ Should I help you?”
“ Please , yes. Please .” The ache between my legs and tightness in my belly is so intense now.
“ Okay ,” he croons. I jolt when he grazes my pussy through the damp material of my underwear with his knuckles. With my jeans locking my legs together, it’s a tight fit for his hand, but he’s nothing if not attentive. I don’t question him when he gently removes my boots. That care is such a contrast to the way he yanks my jeans and panties down to my ankles, freeing one foot. The moment my feet are firmly on the ground, that commanding tone returns. “ Now open those legs nice and wide for me. I never got a taste last time, and I need my fill.”
Leaning forward and balancing on my forearms, I spread my legs wide. The way I’m standing in front of him, completely bare but for the rumpled corset around my waist, is so lewd. It’s obscene.
And I love every second of it.
I crave his touch. I’m desperate for him to feed the hunger pulsing through my veins and between my slick thighs. There’s no doubt he can see how much I want him. When he palms my cheeks to pull them apart, I’m completely at his mercy, bent over a pool table, half-naked, ready to be worshipped by him.
“ Fuck , you’re as beautiful as I remember,” he murmurs into the crease where my ass and thigh meet. His tongue run leisurely across my skin, and being blind to his next move only intensifies the pleasure. “ I have always wondered how you taste. Thought about it every time I wrapped my hand around my cock. Did you think of me when you touched this pretty pussy, love?”
“ Every time.”
“ Right answer,” he growls .
We’re done with words now.
His mouth moves to where I need him the most, and I fall forward, the felt rough against my nipples. All inhibitions fall away when he reaches my soaking entrance. I try to gain purchase on anything but come up short. His tongue circles around my center languidly, and I muffle my cries into my arm, while my other hand darts backward to clutch to the soft strands of his hair. Groaning in appreciation, he moves to my clit and sucks on it before circling it with the tip of his tongue. Over and over, he does that. Ecstasy fills my veins, and my legs threaten to buckle, and they probably would if the firm grip he has on my ass wasn’t keeping me upright.
“ More . God . There . Harder ,” I cry out, and I don’t have to ask twice. He’s everywhere at once. Licking , biting, sucking, nipping. Building me up higher and higher, I might be out of this atmosphere. I’m so close, my orgasm is cresting, but something is missing. My whining and wriggling must tell him that.
“ I remember what you need. Don’t be afraid to ask for it. I’ll always give it to you.” And does he ever, because two thick fingers slide into me from behind and slowly pump in and out. I’m dripping down my thighs, I’m so wet. The fullness of his fingers and the attention he’s giving my clit makes me delirious, but I’d kill to feel the fullness of his cock gliding into me instead. To experience that again. We might have spent years apart and only one night together, but this man knows exactly how to play my body.
When he turns his wrist and crooks his fingers inside of me, my hand shoots out, the balls from our forgotten lesson ricocheting against each other. Black spots float in my vision as I chase my orgasm, bringing my hips back in time with the thrust of his fingers. The slap of his palm meeting my skin and the cries from my lips echo off the walls.
“ God , you should see how you look right now. Your tight, pink pussy is gripping on to my fingers so hard. Keep fucking my hand like that, baby. Find it.” He rewards me with faster and deeper thrusts of his fingers. “ Do you want to come?”
I turn my head and try to look at him, but from this angle, it’s difficult. I nod my head frantically anyway. “ Yes , Patrick . Please .”
“ Please what?” He removes his fingers and I cry out in frustration.
“ God , you’re so ann—” SMACK .
“ Please what, Johanna ?”
Oh . My . God . He just spanked me. He spanked me, and it pushed me closer to the edge of the cliff I’m ready to fall from. He soothes the sting with a kiss, leaving me delirious from the sweet torture. I want to come, but I also love this game we’re playing.
I bite my lip to stop the plea escaping them, and when another sharp slap finds my other cheek, my head falls forward onto the felt, groaning from the mix of pain and pleasure.
“ If you don’t answer me, I’ll leave you bent over this pool table without giving your greedy cunt exactly what it wants. What’ll it be?”
I don’t want to test whether he’ll be true to his words. “ Come . I want to come. Please , Patrick ,” I beg, pushing my hips back to show how eager I am for him.
“ Okay .” And then he’s on me. Spreading me wide open again and licking me from bottom to top. One of his hands leaves my ass and moves to my front, where his fingers find my clit, wet from my pleasure and his mouth, and he starts massaging in tight, small circles.
I’m so close. Wound so tight, I could break in half. The pressure low in my belly is building, and the tingle at the base of my spine tells me I’m close to shattering.
And I do.
Because the second his tongue comes to my center and the pressure on my clit increases, I snap.
I fall.
I scream.
The orgasm rips through me, sending shockwaves from my core to every cell that makes up my very being.
Patrick doesn’t let up until the aftershocks stop, even when I protest that I’m too sensitive. With a kiss at the base of my spine, he removes his fingers and stands, but I still feel him close behind me.
I’m too spent to turn around and look at him, still folded over the table like a lawn chair. When he helps me into my underwear, jeans, and boots, my heart increases in tempo again.
The act of him dressing me makes me blush. Not the fact he was going down on me over a pool table in a public place moments earlier, but the tenderness in his touch. How he’s domineering and filthy one minute, and sweet and considerate the next.
Finding the energy to push myself off the table, I settle my top back in place. My body is heavy and weightless. As I turn around, I worry what expression I’ll find on his face. Regret like that afternoon at his house?
What I find when I turn around surprises me. There’s not an ounce of regret in sight. His eyes are glazed over, pupils wide, hair mussed from my hands, and lips glistening from me . He looks relaxed, if not a tiny bit bashful.
Me , on the other hand, I don’t know what to do. Where to look or to put my hands. I curse myself for offering this up as a one-time thing. I watch as his hand comes up to brush a few strands of hair from my face, his thumb grazing my cheek.
“ I don’t know if this makes me better or worse at pool,” I joke, sounding like some stupid British aristocrat. He brings his lips to my forehead and laughs against my skin. When he pulls back, I see some uncertainty in his eyes as he thinks his next words over .
“ Hey , are we good?” I ask.
“ What does this mean for us?” He doesn’t miss a beat. A question for a question.
My next words are all lies, and it’s stupid of me to even suggest it. Shrugging , I avoid his gaze when I mumble, “ Just for tonight, remember? It doesn’t mean anything. A moment to get whatever is going on between us out of our systems.”
He’s instantly in my space, hands cradling my face. “ No . I want this, fuck, I need it. What if this is our last chance? I want to give this a go. To really try.” I go to open my mouth, but he presses his forehead to mine, silencing me. “ I know there’s a lot of unspoken history between us, and that’s not me trying to rush you. More than anything, I want to see where this could take us, and I don’t want to hide from it. Please tell me this isn’t one-sided. I don’t want just for tonight, love. I’ve already had that and it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.”
I shake my head, hoping I look relaxed despite my heart beating erratically in my chest.
I’m an idiot for even suggesting it. Because it took only one night for me to realize I wanted all his nights.
I run my fingers along my swollen lips. The lips Patrick just kissed.
Or did I kiss him?
I look up at my best friend, still hovering above me. His face looks shocked and wild; probably mirroring my own. Not because it didn’t feel good, but because it felt so good.
A kiss with your best friend of over twenty years is meant to be awkward, right? Like you’re kissing your brother. It wasn’t anything like that. And maybe this is the bourbon speaking, but I think it felt so good because I’ve imagined doing it before a hundred times over.
“ Jesus . I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Jo .” He groans and throws himself back on the arm of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.
“ Why are you sorry?” I’m certainly not sorry he kissed me. The way my lips still tingle and heart races upholds that.
“ Because you’re drunk and ? —”
“ If you say you took advantage of me, I’ll knee you in the nuts.”
He lets out a deep chuckle and his head drops forward. His eyes are ablaze, tracking my movements as I shuffle toward him on my knees. I reach out and trace his slightly crooked nose, before leaning in closer.
“ I’m not sorry,” I whisper. “ And I’m not sorry for this.”
The kiss is tentative at first, checking to see that the first time wasn’t a fluke. Then we dive right in. He groans into my mouth and moves me to straddle his lap. The kiss becomes eager, messy, and so, so right.
“ Do you want this? Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this pull between us?” he asks against my skin, his lips skating across my collarbone now. Soft kisses to teasing nips.
“ More than anything. I’ve wanted this for so long,” I confess.
When he raises his head to look at me, his pupils are so wide, his eyes look more black than green. “ You have no idea how long I’ve wished to hear those words.”
Without breaking the kiss, he stands and walks us to his bedroom.
That was the night that changed it all. Nothing was one-sided, that was made clear.
The dance we’d spent years choreographing finally came to an end. The one where we tiptoed around our feelings or found ourselves with the wrong partners.
I was ready to dance with him forever until it was cut short, and the music stopped.
But here we are, ready to take those steps together again. We need to take it slow, and I’m unsure who is taking the lead. I just hope this isn’t our final dance.
It’s up to me to help break down this last barrier between us, and it starts with me being brave enough to answer the one question he hasn’t dared to ask. What made me leave? The first thing I expected him to collar me with, yet all he’s shown me is patience and empathy. He deserves to hear the truth, no matter how much it makes my skin itch to think about sharing my vulnerabilities with him.
For him, I need to be strong. I need to overcome my insecurities, or I worry the music will stop again.
“ I want to try too. With you.”
He places a chaste kiss between my brows, hands still cupping my cheeks. When he pulls back, he looks calmer, more settled in himself.
“ Okay . Now I don’t know about you, but I need some sleep.”
I laugh and the yawn that follows confirms that sleep is calling my name too, though, I have no idea how I’m going to find it after what we just did.
Once he’s locked up, driven me home, made sure I’m safely in my apartment, I go to sleep praying we find our rhythm again.