Chapter Twelve
Present Day
We walked into the hotel room, and to be honest I was ready to fall into a food coma, but Theo seemed to have other ideas.
He closed the door and pushed me up against the wall, where he’d had me before we left.
His mouth crashed against mine and his hands wandered over my curves.
I tensed, knowing where this was headed, and what I was wearing and my stomach was in knots.
I tensed again and again Theo noticed.
“Hey, are you sure this is okay?” he murmured, pulling back.
Fuck it. I was in lingerie, and all things considered. I liked how I looked in it. Maybe he would too.
“Yes.”
“Then talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” he stopped and ran his fingers through my hair. His eyes were soft, but laced with concern.
“Um, well your sister made me buy a thing.”
“Okay?” He frowned and tilted his head.
I sucked in a deep breath like it was going to give me some kind of super power and then lifted the shirt over my head.
I wasn’t sure what it was about Theo, but I was freer than I’d ever been with any man, with him.
I didn’t feel like I took up too much space and I didn’t feel like I needed to hide, well most of the time anyway.
And so I stood there in front of him, in just the deep purple lace bralette and my pants.
He sucked in a breath and smiled, he stepped back forward and unbuttoned my jeans.
Pulling them down to the ground I stepped out of them and then looked down at him.
He was kneeling in front of me, his eyes filled with something, lust maybe and he clenched his jaw.
“You’ve been wearing this since we left.” he croaked.
I nodded, suddenly unable to speak. His hands ran up my calves, over my knees, along my thighs. When he reached the matching purple lace panties, he groaned.
“Fuck, Gin,” he breathed. “If I’d known before we left. We wouldn’t have.”
His fingers traced the delicate lace at my hips, then traveled up to the bralette. He stood slowly, his hands never leaving my body, exploring every curve covered in purple lace.
“This is...” he trailed off, seeming unable to find words. His eyes roamed over me hungrily. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine, kissing me deeply, desperately. His hands cupped my breasts through the lace, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened. I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound.
He walked me backward toward the bed, his mouth never leaving mine. When the back of my knees hit the mattress, I sat, and he stood above me, quickly stripping off his shirt and jeans.
I started to reach for the bralette, to take it off, but he caught my hands.
“Leave it on,” he said, his voice rough. “I want to see you in it.”
He knelt between my legs, his hands running up my thighs again, pushing them apart. His fingers hooked into the sides of the lace panties, and he slowly pulled them down, his eyes fixed on mine the whole time.
Once they were off, he pushed gently on my shoulders until I was lying back on the bed. He kissed his way up my inner thigh, and I felt my breath catch in anticipation.
“Theo,” I breathed.
His tongue made contact and I arched off the bed, my hands immediately flying to his hair. He worked me with his mouth, his tongue circling and stroking, while his hands gripped my thighs, holding me open for him.
“Oh god,” I moaned, my fingers tightening in his hair.
He slipped two fingers inside me while his tongue focused on my clit, and the dual sensation had me gasping. Then tension built with delicious vigor, that familiar coil tightening low in my belly.
“Theo, I’m close,” I whimpered.
He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made me see stars, and his tongue moved faster. Within moments I was falling apart, crying out his name as the orgasm crashed through me.
He worked me through it, his movements gentling as I came down. When I could finally breathe again, he kissed his way back up my body, paying special attention to my stomach, my ribs, the swell of my breasts still covered in purple lace.
“You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin. “I could do that all day.”
I pulled him up to kiss me, tasting myself on his tongue. My hands found his boxers and pushed them down. He kicked them off and I felt him, hard and ready, pressing against my thigh.
“I need you,” I breathed.
He groaned and positioned himself between my legs. I felt him at my entrance, and then he was pushing in, filling me in one smooth stroke. We both moaned at the sensation.
“Fuck, Gin,” he breathed.
He started to move, long slow strokes that had me gripping his shoulders.
One of his hands came up to cup my breast through the lace, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over my nipple through the delicate fabric.
His pace increased, his hips snapping against mine with more urgency.
The lace of the bralette rubbed against my sensitive nipples with each thrust, adding another layer of sensation.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“Harder,” I gasped.
He complied immediately, his thrusts becoming more forceful. One hand gripped my hip while the other stayed on my breast, and the combination of sensations was overwhelming.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded breathlessly. “I want to watch you.”
I slipped my hand between us, my fingers finding my clit. I circled it in time with his thrusts, and the added stimulation had me climbing fast.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “God, you’re so beautiful like this.”
His thrusts became harder, deeper, more erratic. He was close now, I could see it in the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes had darkened.
“Theo,” I moaned. “I’m gonna—”
My fingers moved faster, and suddenly I was there, falling over the edge. I cried out as the orgasm hit me, my body clenching around him rhythmically.
“Fuck, Gin,” he groaned, and I felt him pulse inside me as he came, my name falling from his lips like a prayer.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing hard, hearts racing. After a moment, he carefully withdrew and rolled to the side, immediately pulling me against him.
His fingers traced the edge of the bralette where it sat against my skin. “I really like this,” he murmured.
“I do too.” I admitted, curling into his chest.
I was sex drunk on Theo Bennett and I couldn’t help but wonder when this was going to turn into a nightmare.
February 2019 - Thomas’s Birthday
I’d planned the whole thing. Dinner reservation at his favorite steakhouse, tickets to the basketball game he’d been wanting to see, and I’d bought a silky nighty.
Black and figure hugging. I’d spent an hour getting ready, doing my makeup, telling myself tonight would be different. Better. That he’d finally look at me the way I wanted him to.
We’d gotten back to his apartment after the game. He’d been in a good mood—his team had won.
I excused myself to the bathroom and changed into lingerie. I checked myself in the mirror. I looked good. I felt good.
When I’d walked out, he’d been sitting on the couch scrolling through game highlights on his phone.
He’d glanced up. Back down. Then up again.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s your birthday,” I’d said, trying to sound confident. Sexy. “I thought we could—”
“Babe.” He’d put his phone down with a sigh. “I’m really tired.”
“Oh.” I stood there, feeling ridiculous. “Okay.”
“I mean, we can if you want, but...” He’d gestured vaguely at me. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for that. It’s not like I need the whole production.”
The whole production. Like I was performing a play he hadn’t bought tickets for.
“Right,” I’d said. “I’ll just—”
“Actually, you know what? Come here.”
I had. He’d pulled me onto the couch and we’d had quick, uninspired sex where he’d barely looked at me and hadn’t taken the nighty off, just moved it aside like it was in the way.
Afterward, he kissed my forehead and said, “Thanks, babe. That was nice.”
Nice. Like I’d brought him coffee.
He’d gotten up to shower and I’d gotten dressed, shoved the nightgown into the bottom of my bag. When he’d come out in his towel, he’d said, “You know, you really don’t need to try so hard. I’m with you, aren’t I? That should be enough.”
I’d broken up with him three weeks later, but that night I’d gone home and cried in my car for twenty minutes before driving away.
You really don’t need to try so hard.
Because trying meant I thought I wasn’t enough. And he’d been right. I hadn’t been. Not for him.