Chapter 19 We Talked about this #3
Wes tightened his grip on her hair and sank deep into her mouth.
Slowly, he pulled out, and then sank back in, expertly fucking her mouth—and the delicious submissiveness of it all made her lose it.
Her eyes teared, her cunt ached . . . and God, was it possible to come like this, untouched?
Abruptly, Wes pulled her off him, making a little pop sound with her mouth.
“More?” he asked.
As an answer, she stuck out her tongue. He tapped it with his heavy, straining shaft.
“What happened to that Catholic guilt?” he teased, his voice going straight to her cunt. “Look at you now.”
And then he sank in as far as he could go.
She trembled, taking it, her thighs going liquid.
If she could’ve screamed, she would’ve. If she could’ve begged harder, faster, more, she would’ve—but somehow, he knew.
He gave it to her, over and over. And when he warned her he was coming, he tried to pull out—but she shook her head, no, sucking him down. Draining him.
When his world stopped spinning, Wes hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her onto the couch.
She felt his hands sliding under her ass, pulling her toward him.
In a frenzy, her leggings and cotton bikini briefs disappeared, and his mouth was on her.
Wes ate her like he kissed her, with all-consuming ravenousness—expertly teasing, sucking, and licking, drawing one orgasm out of her, and then another.
Or maybe it was the same one, surging again.
All she knew was that his mouth was pornographic. He unraveled her.
And afterward, they lay there together, a sweaty, messy tangling of limbs.
Gingerly, he slid his right arm under her shoulder blades and drew her to his chest. She went willingly, as limp as a ragdoll.
It was the only place she wanted to be. She pressed her nose against the base of his throat, inhaling his scent. He awakened every sense in her.
I don’t believe in anything, she thought, but this. Him and me in the dark, trembling and overstimulated and certain. Wasn’t this always the answer?
She pulled back from him a little, looking up at him.
His eyes drank in her face, feature for feature.
Reverently, his palm traveled to her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip.
Her tongue met the tip of his thumb. With an anguished groan, he lowered his face to hers, drawing her into a slow, searing kiss.
They were already buzzing, half weak from orgasms, so the kiss was a hazy, languid pleasure.
As she quivered under him, it occurred to her that she could’ve stayed that way for the next five days. Or forever.
Wes broke the kiss. Forehead to forehead, they breathed each other’s air for a few blissed-out moments.
Nothing else mattered. No boundaries, no professionalism, no rules.
She was gathering the courage to tell him this; to explain how badly she wanted him.
How stupid she’d been. But then, his voice broke through the silence.
“This isn’t good for me,” he said.
Her thoughts cracked down the center, crumbling to the earth.
And then, in a moment of explosive vulnerability, he added, “It’s killing me.”
“It’s killing me, too, Wes,” she whispered.
“No, it’s not, Sasha. Not in the same way.
Every day, I rack my brain for how I could win.
How I could make you forget him. But I have nothing to offer you.
I have a past. I’ve spent two separate nights in jail for aggravated assault.
I owe thousands in unpaid parking tickets.
You’re lying on a Mafia rug. Today, a gargoyle bleached my brisket. ”
Sasha thought she misheard him. “A Mafia rug?”
“I’m not wealthy. I’m not international.
And I’m not a fantasy. I’m just some guy; not exceptional enough for a woman like you to bother getting to know.
But you make me feel special. You make me feel necessary.
I’d do anything for you, Sasha. Unfortunately for me, that means I’ll complete your case.
” He pressed his lips against the top of her head.
“But the prize is that somebody else gets you.”
“Wes, please listen. I have to be honest. Please trust me when I tell you . . .”
“How can I trust you? I can taste you in my mouth—me, the guy looking for your guy. I can’t be alone with you for more than five minutes without needing to feel you, kiss you, touch you.
Make you mine. It’s torture. And you know it.
How do you think that makes me feel? Have you ever considered how this makes me feel?
And I fucking hate him. He’s a fraud, Sasha.
I’m almost able to prove it. But ultimately, you didn’t ask me to judge him.
You asked me to find him. Tomorrow, I’m delivering him to you in a tux.
After that, I’m not letting you use me anymore. ”
Nodding, eyes tearing, she gently untangled herself from him and stood up, unsteadily.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling on her clothes as she headed to the door. “I’m sorry.”
She was sorry as she ran down the stairs and out onto the street, and sorry in the Uber home. In the backseat, she crushed her purse to her chest, as if her heart would seep out of her chest otherwise. As if it were the only thing keeping her intact.
NON-DELIVERY REPORT
To: Sasha.C@ [disabled account]
From: maxi.morgan2006@
Subject: Re: Searching for Seat F
Hi Ms. Cruz. You might not remember me, but I read your palm at Fiorello Airport earlier this month? You gave me your business card with your email. Hope it’s okay that I reach out!
I was a palmistry novice when I did your reading.
After doing many readings since then, I realized that I made a small mistake.
I remember telling you that you’ll experience a chance meeting that’ll set off a chain of events that’ll end in happily ever after.
And that the right connection bridges hearts through time and space, etc.
Well, that’s true. But I’m now realizing that the “chain of events that’ll end in happily ever after” is referring to *other* people. You’re going to meet a man, and somehow, that meeting will bring love to strangers. Many, many strangers. I don’t know how I messed that up! But I apologize.
Let me know if you’ve had this chance meeting yet. And if you were satisfied with your reading, please leave me a positive review on Yelp. Link below.
Maxi Morgan
Nail Tech & Palmistry Expert & Actor
Flushing, Queens