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I groan as I think back to the way she speaks when we’re fucking. She isn’t shy about asking for what she wants. She doesn’t look away from me when we lock eyes as we come.
She’s fucking magnificent in that regard.
The problem is that since that first time when she rolled over and pressed her palm to my chest, she hasn’t done it since.
There’s no attempt at cuddling or soft kind words.
It feels like an unwritten contract. I need to get off. She needs to get off. We get off together and go about our day.
I no longer have an attitude thinking about her being okay with fucking me. If anything, I’m grateful at her willingness when I for damn sure know there are men out there that would be better at fucking her than I am.
She’ll be gone for a while. We both tend to want a little separation from each other after it’s done, so I’m in no hurry to get up despite the mess in my lap.
“Hello,” I say when my phone rings and I answer it.
“Just sitting around being lazy?”
“I just got in from running a marathon.”
Ugly chuckles on the other end of the line. “How’s PT going?”
“It’s fine,” I say rather than complaining about it.
I’d get no sympathy from my friend. He’s as hardcore into fitness as I am, and had this not happened to me, no one would’ve ever been able to convince me that the simple shit Anthony has had me doing three times a week would leave me drained and utterly exhausted.
“How’s Slick?”
“Fine,” I answer a little too quickly to not be suspicious. “She’s around here somewhere. Do you want to talk to her?”
Silence fills the distance between us for a long moment before he responds. “If I need to speak with Slick, I’ll just call her phone.”
Some unrecognizable part inside of me wants to growl and claim her, but that makes no sense in my head, so I shove down that feral feeling and hum my agreement.
“PT or counseling today?”
“Neither,” I answer honestly. “I had PT yesterday, and I’ll have it tomorrow. I’m not going to fucking counseling.”
There’s another round of silence that feels like judgment despite the lack of words.
“I’m meditating.”
“Meditation is great, but it’s not the same as speaking about it with someone.”
“I don’t need to talk about my injury. I fucked up and got my goddamned leg blown off. What more is there to say?” I snap.
“Clearly you’re fine,” Ugly says, sarcasm marking his tone.
“Slick is helping me,” I offer because I doubt the man will leave it alone. He’s never been one to hedge his words to save someone’s feelings.
“You’re talking about it with Slick?” he asks, rather than taking my words at face value.
“We’re… meditating together.”
“Does that mean you’re—”
“Has Kincaid mentioned me coming back?” I interrupt because I don’t want to lie to my closest friend. But I will if he asks what I think he’s going to ask.
“He hasn’t mentioned it,” Ugly responds. “I can ask him if you want me to.”
“Don’t,” I rush out. “I don’t think it will help.”
I’m in the same boat with Ugly asking as I am if I call him myself.
“We aren’t working, man. We’re sitting around with our thumbs up our asses. Kincaid, Shadow, and all the other upper management people have been having meetings without us. I’m scared they’re going to shut the whole fucking thing down.”
Guilt swims inside of me, the acidity of it making my stomach turn.
I’ve already been suffering with the regret of what I did and how I could’ve easily gotten someone else on the team hurt, but fuck my life if they pull the plug on the whole operation because I lost part of my leg.
“I don’t want that,” I say, my voice low and sounding as broken as I feel on the inside.
“Me either, man. Me either.”
Chapter 19
Slick
“If you don’t fucking touch me…” he growls.
A wicked grin crosses my face as I barely brush his balls with my oily hands.
“Woman,” he snarls, his hips thrusting up in the air.
“I keep my promises,” I remind him, my fingers digging into his thigh, the oil on my hands making easy work of the massage.
He tucks his chin to his chest to watch me. His cock jumps, bouncing against his abs.
When I told him ten minutes ago it was time for his massage, he didn’t waste a second getting undressed and climbing onto his bed. He also didn’t bother to lie on his stomach or keep his boxers on this time either. The man was hard before he rested his head against the pillow.
“Yes, you keep your promises, now touch my cock.”
I chuckle at the way his stomach caves when I brush my fingers over his sac again.
We’ve had sex a handful of times, and if it’s even possible, it has gotten better each time. I’m obsessed with sex with him, which wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t so distant in the times between. The only time we let ourselves go or connect on any level is when we’re naked.
