Chapter 14 #2
Throwing my head back, I move my hands from his chest to mine, keeping his lips from brushing against me. I can’t feel his lips on mine again. It’s too intimate, sparks flying whenever our lips collide.
My tits are bouncing and his eyes are glassy.
The sounds of our flesh slapping against each other fill the room.
Grunts and moans mix with panting breaths.
Jett takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching the bud and twirling it.
At the sensation, I clench around him, and he moans.
I’ve always loved his sounds of pleasure.
The way I make him lose control. With his other hand, he brings it to where our bodies are connected.
His thumb dips between us as he finds my clit.
Swiping the swollen bud again, he applies more pressure this time.
“Come for me, Wren.”
“Don’t fucking stop, Jett,” I hiss.
With my hands holding me up, I unleash a flurry of movements while his fingers keep moving. I scream his name, letting loose without a care in the world. I don’t care if all of Silo Bay hears how Jett Riggsby knows how to work my body.
Jett keeps pumping, working me through the end of my euphoric release, his grip on my hips tightening, his thrusts deepening. And within seconds, I feel him throbbing inside of me, twitching and surging, spilling himself with one last deep moan.
Our chests heaving from exertion, I drop my forehead to his shoulder. I might be delirious based on the ecstasy still erupting through my body. Sex with Jett was always good, but we were high schoolers fumbling our way through the thrill of the moment. Now, it’s so much more.
Too bad it can’t happen again. I meant what I said. This was only for tonight. A final nail in the coffin that's Wren and Jett. A way to pass the time as we wait out the storm.
I should’ve been more concerned with the wrath outside my windows, but, honestly, if Mother Nature was going to take me out, fucking Jett Riggsby is the way to go.
Silence and unasked questions swirl around the room as the reality of what we did slams into me. I start to push off his chest, but one of his arms tightens around me while the other reaches for the blanket I abandoned.
“Jett,” I protest.
“I know, Wren. Give me a few more minutes, please.” I hear the resignation in his voice—the pain, the guilt—and it grips my heart.
The blanket falls over me, covering me from the waist down as my head rests in the nook of Jett’s neck, our chests together, sweaty and warm. His strong arms wrap around me and hold me tight.
For a moment, I pretend the last ten years never happened, and our naive teenage dreams came true.
For a moment, it’s like we never hurt each other, never separated, but instead, we’ve lived our lives together.
I can feel the burn behind my eyes, at the need to cry for the future we never had, for the heartbroken eighteen-year-old who sat waiting for him, and for all the pain and suffering I’ve endured since. I sniffle, and he flinches.
“For what it’s worth, I’m so sorry,” he admits, but I can’t bring myself to respond. I allow myself a moment of weakness as I listen to Jett’s strong heartbeat.
My eyebrows furrow as I hear another noise. A pounding not coming from his heartbeat or thunder.
“Is that…”
My voice trails off as I hear the twisting of my front doorknob.
“Wren?” My dad’s voice booms through the space as he slams open the front door hard enough to leave a dent in the wall.
“Oh God!” I stammer, clutching the blanket to my bare chest, rolling to my side. Jett swears under his breath, rolling opposite, gripping the blanket before he flashes his dick to my dad. I use his body as a shield to hide behind.
Dad’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him. There’s no denying what we’ve been up to, not with our clothes flung in every direction, hair mussed from our hands, the smell of sex mixing with my scented candles.
“Sir,” Jett starts, voice hoarse.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I blurt, which is the most incriminating thing to say, especially when it looks exactly like what it is.
Both men whip their heads in my direction.
“Way to play it cool,” Jett mutters.
Dad raises a hand, expression unreadable. “I might’ve been born at night, kids, but it wasn’t last night. I’m well aware of what happens when two people—”
“Dad!” I scream, burying my face in Jett’s back as my eyes catch a black design—it feels familiar, but I don’t have a chance to examine it. Not when I’m naked with my ex-boyfriend as my dad stands over us.
“I’ll leave you two to…” His nose wrinkles, eyes moving all over the room, avoiding the nightmare in front of him. “I’m glad you’re okay. You weren’t answering your phone, and I got worried.”
Guilt sinks in my stomach. “Shit, Dad. I’m sorry I worried you.”
The muscle in his jaw tics, but he doesn’t look at us again. He turns on his heel and heads back out into the night, the door banging shut behind him.
The slam snaps me back to reality. The air has calmed around us. No sounds of thunder, only the steady rhythm of the rain hitting the metal roof.
I groan, covering my heated cheeks. “Fuck my life.”
“Wren—”
“Don’t,” I snap, gathering the blanket. “You need to leave.”
I stand, and as soon as I do, I feel his cum leaking down my thighs.
I pinch my legs together to keep from making a mess.
Leave it to the two of us to forget a condom.
We could never remember to use protection before, and clearly, age doesn’t make us smarter.
Thank God I’m on the shot. It’s the only birth control I could get away with, with Elias. The controlling motherfucker.
His eyebrows knit, jaw flexing, and I keep my gaze locked on his face. The knowledge that I took the blanket, leaving him without any clothes, isn’t lost on me.
“I’m clean, by the way.”
Jett’s eyes flare, landing on the apex of my thighs. I imagine he’s wishing he could see his cum leaking out of me. “Never questioned it, but so am I. I would’ve never put you at risk.”
I shrug, clenching the blanket tighter, refusing to look at him…lying naked and glorious. The moment’s over.
“Wren—” he tries again.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I interrupt, voice shaky but firm. “What happened tonight…it was a mistake. Leave, Jett.”
Pain sears my chest at the harshness in my voice, but this is a hill I will die on. Jett Riggsby and I aren't good for each other. Too much time has passed. The scar tissue around my heart is too thick to let him back in.
His throat works, like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. With a nod, he stands. Pulling on his pants, slipping his shirt over his head, and sliding into his boots. As he starts for the door, he pauses, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the determined look he’s shooting my way.
So I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and meet his determination with my own resolve. Tentatively, he reaches out, cups my cheek in his hand, and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. An unspoken promise that this isn’t over. I’m holding my breath as his back retreats out of my cottage.
His actions just spoke louder than any words ever could, and it hits me how fucked I really am. Because Jett's right…
This is far from over.