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With that, he dives back in, assaulting me with his talented tongue and gifted lips. I can hardly breathe as he sucks and licks and nibbles all of my most sensitive spots. But when he slowly slips a finger into my slick heat, I swear I see stars.
The sounds that come out of me while he thrusts his finger in and out, are not anything I’ve ever heard before. Forget watching him at this point—I can barely keep my eyes open. And I’m shocked when another orgasm hits me like a bomb going off between my legs. It’s not a slow escalation, but a sudden attack of pleasure, and I let out a scream this time. My back arches and my legs tremble, and when I finally come down, I beg him to stop.
“I can’t take it anymore, Garrett! Please!”
He chuckles as he lifts up this time, wiping his mouth. “You can take it.”
Before he can drop his mouth back to my clit, I desperately pull at his shirt, bringing him down until he’s fully lying on me, and I kiss his mouth with eagerness. My legs wrap around his waist, and although I am entirely spent, I’m still hungry for his touch.
He kisses me back, grinding his hips against me, soaking the front of his pajamas with my arousal. I fumble with the drawstring, trying to get them off of him.
A moment later, he’s sliding easily into me, and it’s nothing like the climax I just felt from his tongue. It’s different and so much better. The impact of his cock pounding inside me, reaching places I didn’t know existed, giving me pleasure not even the best toy I own could find.
And I know what it is. Maybe he doesn’t want to admit it, but I know what I’m feeling when Garrett fucks me is a connection you don’t get over a webcam or with an object. This is visceral and pure.
Our eyes meet just before he comes, and I squeeze him tighter. As if this one embrace could convey to him that I don’t hate him at all. I’m not mad at him or want to fight with him. I wish I could tell him, in more words than I expressed last night, just how much he means to me.
If he knew, if hereallyknew, would it change anything? Would he give us a real shot or would he keep me as just a plaything? A fuck buddy? A stepsister-with-benefits?
Before he pulls out, I drag his face down to press my lips to his again, tasting myself on his mouth. And all the things I want to say are on my lips, but I leave them unspoken. If I admit my feelings to him, I’m the vulnerable one, and then what? Face the humiliation of being rejected…again.
Instead, I whisper against his mouth, “You were right.”
Confusion colors his expression. “About what?”
“Sex is relaxing,” I reply as every muscle in my body melts into the bed.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he rests his weight on me.
Eventually, he does pull out. Then he’s climbing off the bed, getting dressed, and driving me home. And just like that, things between us feel no better than they were yesterday.
“So…if I did need some help with the event,” he says, before I can climb out of the car at the house. I turn back and wait for him to finish his request.
“Yes?”
“You’ll help me?”
“How are you going to pay me?” I ask in a teasing tone.
“Come back to the club. Just give me some warning this time.”
With an eye roll, I open my car door. “Fine. I’ll text you later.”
“Fine,” he replies, smacking my ass as I climb out.
* * *
The moment I’m alone in my house, I think about Drake, and I have a strange urge to talk to him. To tell him everything, which isinsane, but he knows I have feelings for Garrett. He doesn’t seem so possessive that I can’t tell him about my sex life.
I mean, he knows I can’t save myself for him. He won’t even show me his face.
Then I remember how I left things yesterday, and I guess the least I can do is apologize for the weird way I acted.
Pulling up the messages, I type one out.
I’m sorry about the weird way I acted yesterday.
He responds right away.
