Chapter 25 Violet
TWENTY-FIVE
VIOLET
OCTOBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.
“Make that tongue touch your chin,” the narrator said in my ear. I startled, checking my surroundings to see if anyone could somehow hear my headphones.
I was trying something different, combining my two new hobby attempts: running while listening to one of Colt’s and my romance books.
I found a well-lit pedestrian-only park not too far from my apartment, got an adorable little container of pepper spray that strapped to my hand, and downloaded our college romance audiobook to my phone.
Colt was reading them so fast that I struggled to keep up, and while he told me not to worry about it, I didn’t want him too far ahead of me.
So, an hour of exercise with Jordan Houser and Ava Smith from Paddle Me in my ears was the perfect way to pick up my reading pace.
“Relax your throat, baby girl. Get sloppy for me.” The female narrator’s boyfriend voice was so good I didn’t even notice that it wasn’t a man. In fact, all I noticed was that she sounded a little like Colton.
I looked down at my sports bra as I felt my nipples tighten, praying I wasn’t about to give away what I was listening to.
Fortunately, the padding in the bra kept that little fact a secret.
Fuck, why didn’t I get black running tights?
Why did I have to try and be all cutesy with dusty rose?
So you’d actually go for the damn run, Violet.
The memories from the night before weren’t making the building need inside me any better.
Just the night before, Colton hadn’t been in my mouth, but it was still a plenty steamy experience.
Confident hands, fiery kisses, giving each other what we needed.
We’d done a lot of things together over the years, but that was a hell of a return to sexy activities.
“Jordan’s cock was buried deep in my throat, my ponytail gathered in his hand,” the narrator went on, and who was Jordan again? All I could picture was Colton towering over me, having my mouth full of him. His blue eyes shining down at me. Impressing him with how well I could take him.
My core tightened, and the familiar tingle of an impending orgasm built.
What was happening? Was this why I ran in college?
I didn’t remember any running orgasms, mostly just suffering and feeling sick for hours after trying to keep up with some former high school champion boy.
Was this the runner’s high everyone talked about?
The narrator was still going, getting more and more delightfully filthy with each line.
The memory of what Colton looked like when I was on my knees for him haunted me.
Trimmed hair over tight abs and pecs, his biceps bulging as he struggled to be gentle holding my head.
Glassy eyes and bursts of precum, growing wetter and wetter myself.
“I’m going to fill this perfect mouth with cum, because you are absolutely perfect on your knees for me. And you’re going to swallow every single drop. Isn’t that right, baby girl? You’re going to suck me dry because you can’t get enough of me.”
Oh, god. This was really happening. I was about to orgasm while running.
“Jordan’s cock jolted in my mouth while he groaned, shot after shot hitting the back of my throat.”
Colton was so fucking hot when he came undone for me. Most of the time he liked to do the giving, but on the few occasions when I’d gotten to, he was truly a pleasure to blow. I remembered a time where I was close to coming just watching him and feeling his release in my mouth.
I ran over a stone bridge, glancing out at the water below to try to cool myself down.
It did not have the desired effect.
With a shocked cough, I came, my inner thighs and core squeezed impossibly tight.
Between gawking at the pond and actually orgasming in public, my poor body could take no more inputs.
I stumbled, catching myself on my hand right before I wiped out completely.
The stone gritted against the heel of my hand, but I didn’t feel the pain too badly.
This was probably because I was in the middle of one of the world’s best pain relievers: an orgasm.
I breathed hard, staring at the ground under my hand as I rode out the rest of my orgasm.
Concerned eyes stooped into my line of vision. I couldn’t hear what they said because the narrator was still spitting absolute rancid filth into my ears at an embarrassing volume. I read their lips, and it looked like, “Are you okay, miss?”
“I’m good,” I shouted at a likely-absurd decibel level, scrambling to my feet and continuing my run.
At least I was already running, so I could get away from this scene, this accidental orgasm, as fast as possible.
Colton might have confessed his airplane incident to me, but there was no way in hell I’d be talking about coming on a quaint stone bridge while looking at ducks in a pond because I listened to one of our books.
All that aside, I would be marking this as my favorite scene in the college romance.
“Wow, so things escalated quickly.” Layla sat back in her chair across from me. She lifted her travel mug reading “CLIENT TEARS” to her lips, one she once told me contained green tea. A pretty appropriate mug for a therapist. She’d certainly collected plenty of my tears.
“You could say that,” I said. “I probably should have mentioned it in my last session, but I was kind of embarrassed.”
She chuckled. “You wouldn’t have been the first to commit a lie of omission in therapy. But let’s dig into that. What about it feels embarrassing?”
I stretched my neck and looked at the wall above her.
“It’s a good question.” I rubbed my lips together and licked them.
“I guess it seems like a pretty foolish arrangement, you know? I’m a grown adult setting up some sort of game with my ex.
My only friend who knows thinks I’m crazy for it. I’m not ready to tell my sister.”
Layla’s lips twitched. “Friends always have their own take on things because they’ve been invested for so long. It doesn’t make them wrong. Just biased. But go a little deeper. What do you want from your arrangement?”
I sighed and chewed my lip. “I want a safe place to explore partnered sex again.”
Layla bobbed her head. “Good. What does Colton want out of it? Has he said?”
My eyes dropped to the floor between us. “To know I won’t leave if things go wrong.”
“What’s your plan if things go wrong?”
I tipped my head from side to side. “We haven’t said fully, but I guess we’d stop and talk about it.”
She looked impressed. “Okay. That all sounds within reason.”
I smirked. “Oh, so you approve?”
She smiled broader. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s you we’re working on. So, you want physical safety, and he wants emotional safety.”
I nodded. “I think that’s the long and short of it.”
“What about the emotional aspect for you? How does that factor in?”
“I mean, I trust him.”
“Well, sure.” She lifted her eyebrows and picked up her mug again. “But what do you want out of your relationship beyond sex?”
I put my head back and groaned. “Stop being so good at your job.”
Layla shrugged. “Just giving you what you paid for.”
“We haven’t really talked about that part. We said no labels just to keep it simple, take the pressure off.”
She pursed her lips and bobbed her head, a signature sign that she was waiting for me to keep going.
“It’s hard to not hope for more. But that’s not fair to him.”
“Why not?” Layla asked.
My lips quivered and I played with the tissue I always fiddled with during my sessions.
I’d walk in, grab a tissue, and sit, then start rolling it, tearing it, or in some cases, actually using it for its intended purpose.
“I’m afraid I don’t deserve it. I feel like .
. . I need to sort some of this other stuff out, you know?
I’ve hurt him so much in the past. It would be easy for us to just rush back together, right?
But there were reasons I didn’t call him when I first got to town.
I needed time. He deserves the best version of me. ”
She gave me a wry smile. “It sounds like you really care about him.”
“I do.”
“I don’t know him, but I bet he cares about you too. It’s great that you’re working on yourself and taking his feelings into consideration. But how will you know when you’re ready for him?”
“Like, that I’m cured? Good enough?”
She unclicked her pen and set it and her notepad flat in her lap. “Violet, you don’t need to be cured to be good enough. There’s no such thing. How will you know you’re ready, whatever ready means to you?”
I took a big breath and let it out. “That’s a great question.”
“Then I think that’s your homework, and probably our next session.” She gave me a serene smile. “We’ve got a few minutes. What else is going on?”
“Let’s see,” I said. “I tried diamond art.”
“Oh?”
“It’s not for me, to put it lightly. Too many little dots.”
She laughed. “A valid assessment. And totally fine to abandon what’s not working for you.”
“But!” I put a finger in the air. “I started running again. But it’s kinda backfiring a little too.”
“Backfiring?” she asked with a quizzical look.
“Well . . . I listened to one of our audiobooks while I ran yesterday and the book got spicy and I really liked it.”
“That’s a good thing! You’re exploring what you like again.”
“No, I mean liked it to completion. And I was wearing pink running tights that don’t give much . . . invisible liquid protection.”
Layla put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oh no, Vi. I’m sorry for laughing. That’s—”
“Oh no, someone needs to enjoy this, because I can’t tell anyone else.”
“Yes, I always get to collect people’s best secrets. It’s what keeps me coming in every day. A real job perk,” she joked.
“I bet!” I said.
“I’m not a runner myself, but I know coregasms are a thing. Combine that with your entertainment of choice and you probably just had a normal human reaction.”
“Normal, sure. But also kinda funny?”
She held back a laugh as she stood up. “And we’re at time, so it looks like I don’t have to answer that question! I’ll see you next week. Have fun with Colton and enjoy your runs. Keep finding what makes you happy.”