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Ansel didn’t appear bothered, though. He waited patiently, rubbing his thumb over my arm, until I could catch my breath again.
“I know why Carter was so desperate to call me,” I said, letting out a few hiccups of laughter here and there. I handed my phone with the picture of Carter and his fiancée still on the screen over to Ansel. “He’s engaged. We’ve only been apart for a few months, and now he has a fiancée. I think the only reason he was trying to call me was to do damage control. He probably thought I would do something . . . I don’t know, crazy?”
Ansel stared at the phone with the corners of his mouth turned down. Aside from that, his features were painfully unreadable.
I felt jittery, like I needed to take a lap around the room, and his silence wasn’t helping. “I mean, I get it—she’s fucking gorgeous.” I had to fill the silence somehow. I was going to implode if not. “But we were together eight years. Eight years. I couldn’t even mention marriage or engagement without Carter clamming up. And he just proposes to the first girl he meets after dumping me? It’s insane! He’s insane!”
Ansel tilted the phone, his brows pushing together in concentration. “She kind of looks like you . . .” he finally said.
Knife to the heart. She really was my upgrade. “But she's prettier than me,” I said, my voice tight.
Ansel jerked his chin towards me, giving me a sharp look. “I didn't say that. She’s the knock-off version of you, if anything.”
I nodded, my lower lip trembling. “Thank you.” I figured he was only saying that so I wouldn't start bawling again, but I appreciated the effort.
“Skye,” he said in a soft voice that brought a new batch of tears close to the surface. “Are you okay? How many times do I have to tell you that a man who can’t make you come is not worth crying over? Actually, no man is worth crying over. We’re all assholes.”
I nodded quickly, refusing to look at him. I stared at the corner of the room; my vision going a little hazy from the sheen of tears. “I know. It’s just—” I sighed, taking a moment to steady myself. When I spoke again, my voice didn’t have that warble effect. “I’ve thought about this day a lot. Carter moving on. I was so desperate to make things right with him, but a small part of me knew we were never getting back together. And I would have to prepare myself for the day when he found someone else. I’ve been secretly dreading this day, but I didn't think it would be so soon. I foolishly thought I would have enough time to find a new boyfriend of my own, something to soften the blow.” I shrugged a shoulder; the small effort feeling like it took too much energy. “But here we are . . .” I let my words trail off for a moment. “I think what hurts the most isn’t the fact he’s moved on quickly. It’s the fact that it confirms my fear that I was the problem all along, that I wasn’t good enough for him. He wasn’t afraid of commitment. He was afraid of committing to me.”
“Skye,” Ansel said, drawing out my name in his deep, orcish timbre.
I waved a dismissive hand at him. “I know. I know. Don’t cry over that asshole; he doesn’t even know what a G-spot is,” I said, lowering my voice to mimic Ansel. I coughed; my throat still raw. And I had almost forgotten I had been choked out by a tweaking demon earlier. This truly was the worst day of my life—Carter’s engagement being the big red cherry on top of the shit sundae that was my life. “I’m wallowing. I deserve the right to wallow. Please, just let me enjoy my pity party a little longer.” I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands.
“I haven’t been fulfilling my promise,” Ansel said suddenly. It was just confusing enough for me to pull my hands away from my face to stare at him.
“Your promise?” I asked. He didn’t answer me. I watched him as he pushed himself up from the bed and rounded the corner of the mattress, pausing by my propped-up foot. He carefully lifted my ankle with one hand as he pulled the pillows away with his other, setting my foot down on the bed. “My promise to help you forget your pathetic ex-boyfriend,” he finally said, meeting my gaze across the bed. The intense look in his gray eyes sent a jolt of excitement through me.
“I am over him. I’m just mourning what was supposed to be my future—”
“I heard orgasms are great pain relievers,” he said, purposely ignoring my comment. “Did you know that? Something about extra dopamine being released in the brain, but I’m not sure.”
I raised myself on my elbows to get a better view. He had that devilish glint in his eye like he was about to do something both wicked and earth-shattering. “I don’t know either. I never took anatomy and physiology in college,” I breathed out, watching him closely.
“Come here," he rasped, motioning for me to move closer to the end of the bed. “I am going to make you feel so good that not only will you forget the bastard’s name, but everything else wrong in your life.”
My entire body shuddered; my pussy pulsing awake because I knew when Ansel promised things like that, he was true to his word. I hesitated for a brief moment, my beating heart stopping in my chest before stuttering back to life with triple the speed. Oh my Goddess, did Ansel mean sex? Oh I really, really, really hoped so. Sure, the circumstances weren’t ideal—I wished I didn’t smell like a dirty gym bag right now—but at this point I didn’t care. I was so ready to cleanse Carter from my system, like a deadly toxin that needed to be sucked directly from the wound, and the only way to do that was to be fucked senseless by the handsome brute I had been sharing a room with the past week.
I knew this would ruin me. I had never been able to separate feelings from sex, and no amount of therapy or work retreats would be able to fix my heart after Ansel was through with me. But right now, I was more than willing to accept the consequences as long as I got to feel that thick, hard cock dragging in and out of me—
Either Ansel was impatient, or I was taking too long to move. “Lift your ankle,” he said in a low voice, motioning to the hurt one. I obeyed, and he gripped my waist, my skin shivering as his fingers pressed into my skin and yanked me down the bed so my ass was hanging off the edge and my knees were straddling his legs. The angle wasn't quite right for sex though—Ansel was too tall, and the bed was too low—if he intended to stand the entire time, but I wasn't worried; he would figure it out. He was the sexpert.
“Let’s get you out of this sweatshirt,” he murmured. He helped me sit up and peeled the sweatshirt off my body, revealing my bra. Without a word, he reached around and unhooked my bra, exposing my small breasts. Though I didn’t need help undressing, I enjoyed it when Ansel took control. “Gods, Skye, you are so beautiful.” He caught my hands in the air, stopping me before I could cover my breasts. Not that there was much to cover.
I opened my mouth to make a self-degrading comment about the unimpressive size of my chest, but Ansel moved too fast. He knelt down in front of me, catching my nipple in his mouth, and the words on my lips dissolved into a soft moan. Liquid heat immediately flooded between my legs.
He took his time, sucking and licking and rolling his tongue over my sensitive nipple, until I couldn’t take the sweet torture any longer. Then he moved to the next breast, giving the same amount of attention to the other pert nipple.
If he plans to keep up this pace, he’s going to kill me before we get to the actual thing.This is torture,I thought, digging my nails into his hair. Sweet, painful, agonizing torture, I added, arching my chest closer to his mouth.
He moved down my body, trailing kisses down my chest and over my soft stomach. Ansel helped me wriggle out of my sweatpants without moving my ankle too much. “How are you feeling?” he asked, sounding a little breathless.
Huh? Oh, right, my ankle. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let's keep going.”
He grinned; his lips glistening and a little swollen. “If it hurts at any time, let me know and I’ll stop.”
I couldn’t hide my eager smile. This was really happening. I don’t know why I was so surprised. I had never been with someone who focused completely on my pleasure first. It was a refreshing change, of course, but it was strange he hadn't let me return the favor. Our few sexual experiences have been only focused on me, and though it was a nice change, part of me wondered if he was trying to distract me.
Distract me with my own orgasms? Ha. What a strange idea, one I didn’t quite believe in myself. But that’s all it was—a strange thought not based on truth because tonight . . . we were having sex.
