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ITHROW MY HEAD BACK against his shoulder. “Yes…” I whisper, but it comes out as a moan, a desperate whimper.
“I’m going to give you the best fuck of your life.” He drops to his knees and buries his head under my skirt. He trails soft hot kisses up my legs as he slides my panties slowly down. “When you’re laying with Parker, in your fancy silky sheets, and he can’t make you come, you think about this.” His words melt into the flesh of my ass and my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I step out of my panties, one shaking leg at a time. “Yes…” I breathe.
He comes to a stand again and presses both his hands on either side of my head, holding me hostage. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
He pulls me hard against him, and before I can even think of what’s happening, I’m hiked up against him, and he’s inside me, one hand sliding down my clit. In mere seconds, he makes me come, and I know that he’s right.
I probably won’t ever be able to stop thinking about this. Remembering this. And wanting this.
* * *
Love is the rose.Lust is the thorn. –Sri Sathya Sai Baba
Dear Journal,
My friend, Corrie, says that all the best lovers are bad boys. She says her husband (soon-to-be ex) is a bad boy and even though she hates him most of the time, she still can’t get enough of him.
Why is that? Why can’t the good boys be as good in bed? Peter has always been an okay lover. I never realized he was just okay, until I had a taste of Blake. But what’s so great about amazing sex? There’s a lot more to life than amazing sex. Stability, loyalty, commitment, and knowing your heart won’t be played with and broken at every turn.
I suppose even good boys can break your heart. Peter surely did when he left me at the church.
How am I supposed to go back to him after what I’ve just lived with Blake? I’ll remember that shed for the rest of my life.
Does Blake care more than he lets on? He seemed really hurt by the fact that I just wanted sex, that this meant nothing more to me. I play a good game, but he must know that I’m full of it. Of course, it’s not just sex, of course it means more. He knows me. He knows how I’m wired. He should know that. I’ve been trying so hard to pretend I don’t care, I guess I’ve succeeded.
I just had to make it up to him. Up until the Inn, we’d only fucked, and that’s how I wanted it. I’m not sure if it was a mistake to take it farther. If I thought the sex was great, I hadn’t been prepared for the lovemaking. Oh my… His mouth, his touch exploring every inch of my body. My tongue on his sweet salty skin, my hands on the hard curves of him. Hours lost in each other on the bed, in the bath, bringing each other to the edge. Sharing thoughts, memories, and everything in us. Opening each other, bare and raw.
Despite trying to be so careful, I’ve fallen even deeper.
Yes, this can only be sex for so many reasons. Because we live hours apart, because we have too much history, because it’s me and him; we’re like oil and vinegar. I honestly don’t know how I’ll go on and manage not to think of him every single minute. Not long ago, I was consumed with anger and heartbreak, and thoughts of Peter. Now I’m full of lust and want and longing for Blake.
He was honestly just what I needed, a wonderful, sexy distraction. A Band-Aid on my heartbreak. The problem is, now the Band-Aid has fallen off, and I feel exposed. I’m an open sore. It will take everything in my power not to call him up for a booty call. Thank god he lives hours away. If he were closer, I’d be in trouble. I’d want my fix, and I’d want it now.
Delicious, addictive and unforgettable – that’s what Blake Taylor is. And always will be.
Later, Journal.
M
* * *
I knowI won’t get a wink of sleep tonight. I can’t believe this is my last night here. I smile at the thought of Blake when I left him. The little troublemaker stole my panties. I begged but he wouldn’t give them back. He said he wanted a souvenir, said he would never wash them. He told me he’d sniff them every day.
Kind of creepy, but alsohot!
And funny. That’s Blake for you.
He pulled at my curl again, probably just to annoy me. “God, I’ll miss you,”
I was a blubbering mess by then. “Me too.”
He held me in his arms for the longest time, and then he kissed me on the forehead, just like he used to when we were small. My heart ached so much when I had to finally tear myself away. He told me this was goodbye, that he wouldn’t see me off in the morning, and that he had to be at the store.
