Instead, I prayed for it to never end.
But it does, and when the climax fades, and the cool breeze of the night sweeps across my hot, slick skin, I whimper, folding into Gavin’s arms.
He catches me easily, his fingers withdrawing from inside me slowly and carefully. He puts my panties back in place, drops my leg back to the ground, and wraps me in his arms, surrounding me with his warmth and embrace.
And just when I thought I was okay, I fucking lose it.
Sobs rip through my chest, and I cling to him more, like if he even thinks of letting me go, I’ll die. But he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t flinch or ask me what’s wrong or demand that I stop crying. He just pulls me deeper into his chest, wrapping me in his arms as fully as he can and kissing my hair, repeating the same words over and over again until I can finally breathe.
“It’s okay. I got you. You’re beautiful. You’re safe.”
“It’s okay. I got you. You’re beautiful. You’re safe.”
It’s okay.
I got you.
You’re beautiful.
You’re safe.
I AM THE EQUIVALENT to a dog with its tail tucked firmly between its legs when I knock on Becca’s door a week before Thanksgiving.
My heart races in my chest as I wait for her to answer, knowing she’s home since I asked permission before coming over. I haven’t seen her since the night she booted me out and essentially told me to get my shit together.
And she was right — I did need time alone.
I was also right.
It sucked.
I spent most of the first week wallowing, turning to the classic things that always got me by: drinking, working out, and — since fucking was out of the question with Becca being so pissed off — masturbating.
I had zero shame, and I wasted away seven days without a single urge to do anything about my predicament.
But something happened on that seventh day, like God himself was yanking me up out of my bed and throwing me in the shower and telling me we had work to do. I drove out to the beach that morning and sat there for hours, watching the sun rise, listening to the waves, and — for the first time since last semester — not running from the thoughts inside my head.
I thought about Erin, about our unborn child, about how it hurt me that I hadn’t been a part of the conversation and how I also understood how it wouldn’t have been my decision anyway. I thought about how I’d been so focused on my own betrayal and hurt that I hadn’t thought about the fact that Erin went through that just months before she was raped, and then she slipped into the darkest hole I’d ever seen her in.
She’s been fighting her way out of that hole all summer and all fall semester long, going to therapy and trying to make amends with the people she hurt.
And I shut her out.
She’s on my list of people to try to make things right with, and next on that list is my little brother.
My mother, too.
That long morning at the beach helped me see that a lot of my anger toward my mother rests in the fact that I’m jealous.
I’m jealous that she never got clean when I was a kid. I’m jealous that I can’t be there to get to know her — sober — and have a relationship with her. I’m jealous that my little brother doesn’t need me now, that he might very well move out of Mac’s place soon and back in with Mom, and then where will that leave me?
And I’m scared.
God, I’m scared. I’m scared of her leaving unexpectedly again and fucking Clayton up. I’m scared of her starting to use again and him getting caught up in it, the way Carleton had. I’m scared of Clayton and Mom becoming close and leaving me somewhere on the outside looking in.
But something I decided that day on the beach was that I wouldn’t let fear drive my life.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been working on me. I’ve been studying, focusing on school, working out more but drinking less. I’ve been spending time with my fraternity brothers, video chatting with my family and trying to put my fear aside to form a bond with them in understanding rather than suspicion.
And I’ve been thinking about how to make things right with Becca.
A deep inhale is my only preparation, and then the door swings open, and I lay eyes on Becca for the first time in weeks.
Her hair is wrapped in an orange and blue bohemian turban, tied in a swirl knot at the front with just a few tendrils of curly hair peeking out around her ears. Her face is void of makeup and she’s wearing leggings that I know have holes in the thighs from her wearing them so much, along with one of my hoodies, which nearly knocks the breath out of me because it tells me I have a chance before I’ve even spoken a single word.
She looks effortlessly beautiful, just like always.
And what makes her even better is that she’s even more gorgeous where no one can see her.
Her heart.
Her mind.
Her soul.
“Hi,” I whisper after a moment.
“Hey,” she says, opening the door a little more for me to walk through.
I go straight back to her bedroom, and when she shuts the door behind us and crosses her arms, waiting, I take my shot.
“Becca, I am so sorry for the way I’ve been acting this semester. You were right to kick me out that weekend after Halloween. And you were right about me needing time alone.”
“I didn’t want to, you know,” she whispers. “Kick you out. Not see you for weeks.”
“I know,” I say, and not overthinking it enough to talk myself out of it, I cross the room and pull her into my arms.
She’s stiff at first, her arms still crossed between us, but slowly, she unwinds them and wraps them around my back, resting her head on my chest with a sigh.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.
“Not as much as I’ve missed you. I promise you that.”
Grabbing my hand, she leads me to the bed, sitting with her legs crossed by her pillows while I take a seat in front of her. “How have you been?”
I blow out a breath, looking around her room at the dream catchers, the moon phase tapestry, the old record player and an open dream journal on her desk. Incense burns on a small slate of wood in the corner, and I smile, loving that that scent will forever remind me of her.
“Shitty,” I confess, capturing her golden eyes with mine. “But I’ve been taking a lot of time to work on myself, and to think about everything that’s been fucking me up. I’m not one-hundred-percent better, but… I’m working on it. And that’s a step.”
“A big step,” she agrees. A frown slips over her. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Yes, but not tonight. If that’s okay.” I reach for her, pulling her into me as we lie down in her sheets. “Tonight, I just want to hold you, and kiss you, and touch you, and make you feel how important you are to me.”
She smiles against my lips as I kiss her. “I like the sound of that.”
“And I promise I’ll talk to you about everything I’ve been working through. Oh, and I had an idea.”
“Do tell.”
“I did a lot of thinking about what you said.” I swallow. “About Erin. And it made me realize that I don’t know a lot about you and your friends, either. And I want to.”
I don’t miss the way Becca shifts in my arms at the mention of Erin, but I hold onto hope that this idea is a good one.
“What if we host a Friendsgiving?”
“A what?”
“Friendsgiving. It’s Thanksgiving but with your friends instead of your family. Jess hosted one last year…” I frown. “Actually, it was kind of a disaster, but ours won’t be. I was thinking I could invite Erin, and my Little, Josh. I would invite Skyler, but she’ll be out of town. But you could bring your friends, too — your roommate, your best friend from high school. You said she’ll be in town, right?”
Becca nods. “Yeah… she will be. Are you sure this is a good idea? Did you and Erin work through whatever weirdne
ss is going on between you two?”
“Not yet,” I admit. “But… I’m hoping this can kind of be the start of that. And I want you to be a part of it.”
She peeks up at me from where I hold her then, a soft smile on her lips. “I think it sounds fun.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah. I’ll let the girls know.” Then, she presses her soft, warm lips to mine, leaving them there long enough to send blood rushing to my groin. “Now, you ready to make true on your promise to hold me and kiss me and touch me tonight?”
I groan, rolling her over until I’m pressed between her thighs, hiking one up high so I can nestle into her heat. “I’ve been ready since the second I walked through that door.”
Becca answers me with her hands on my face, pulling me into her kiss, her heel digging into my ass and pulling me in closer. I roll my hips against her heat, and she shudders, gasping into my mouth which is enough to have my erection straining against my basketball shorts.
We took it slow for so long, that even a kiss has me hard and ready to go, and the memory of the first time I tasted her at the beginning of the semester makes me even harder. She was so slick and tight, and the thought of tasting her again is too much to resist.
I kiss my way down her jaw, her neck, helping her sit up enough for me to slide my hoodie over her head, and groaning in appreciation when I see she’s not wearing anything under it. Immediately, I drop down on my hands on either side of her, bending to suck and kiss the soft skin of her swelled breasts. Her dark nipples pebble under the touch, and I gently bite each one, sucking the peaks between my teeth.
I’m on my way down her navel, ready to spend the rest of the night, and maybe the rest of my life, with my mouth between her legs when she grabs my shoulders to stop me.
“Bear…”
Her eyes hold mine, her mouth parted, chest heaving. And I know without her saying a word what she wants.
“Tonight?”
She nods, and I don’t miss the hard swallow, the way her heart picks up its pace under my lips when I kiss her breast again.
Slowly, I peel her leggings off, dropping them on the floor and taking a moment to kiss up and down her thighs, her calves, even the bones of her ankles. She’s completely naked and writhing under my touch, and I allow myself the pleasure of torturing her until she’s shoving me to stand up and ripping my clothes off, too.
When we’re both bare, she opens her bed table drawer and pulls out a golden foil package, ripping it open without haste and sliding the condom over my length.
It’s the first time she’s touched me, and her hand rolling that latex over me is nearly enough to make me come already.
I groan, holding her wrist to keep her there even once the condom is in place. Her eyes widen, and she looks up at me through heavy lashes, squeezing a little more, wrapping her small fist around my shaft as best she can.
“Does that feel good?” she whispers, and that from her mouth has me groaning and flexing into her hand, my climax building before I’ve even pressed my tip inside her.
“Yes, baby. Grip it tighter.”
She answers my demand, and her lips find my neck on the next thrust into her hand, leaving me biting my lip and imagining how good it’s going to feel to finally fuck her after months of taking it slow.
“Do you want me to suck it?” Becca asks in my ear, and I swear to God I have to yank back and throw her on the bed because I feel my orgasm edging for release. She smiles wickedly at me, balanced on her elbows, her legs falling open, perfect brown pussy waiting.
“I don’t fuck the way I eat,” I say, grabbing her by the hips and yanking her down until her ass is hanging off the bed. I grab my cock in my hand, stroking it once before I line it up at her entrance, both of us moaning at the feel of her slick heat covering the tip. “This won’t be gentle.”
“Shut up and fuck me already.”
I answer with a slam of my hips, filling her to the brim, and she cries out in what I know is both a mixture of ecstasy and pain. And it’s not that I want to hurt her. It’s just that I don’t know how else to take her but hard, fast, and rough — my favorite fucking way.
I groan at the feel of her tight pussy wrapping around me, withdrawing and sinking back into her even deeper. Becca’s back arches off the bed, fingers wrapping in the sheets and twisting, neck exposed.
I wrap my hands around that beautiful neck, gripping just enough to hold onto her as I pound without cutting off her air supply. Her fingers wrap around my wrist where I hold her, but the way her eyes heat when they look at me, I know she doesn’t want me to take my hand away.
She loves it.
She wants more.
I squeeze just a little tighter, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss and reveling in the way the breath coming from her mouth into mine is strained.
“You like when I choke you, don’t you, baby?” I hiss, slowing my pace just a little, just enough to feel every inch of her as I pepper kisses on her jaw. “I know you can’t answer me, but the way your pussy is tightening is all I need to know.”
Something of a whimper escapes her lips, and her eyelids flutter shut, her thighs somehow opening even more. That tells me she’s chasing her orgasm, and I answer that plea by sliding my free hand down between us.
I skate my hand over my cock when I pull out of her, slicking it in her wetness, and then I cup her, rubbing my fingers up and down her clit in time with my thrusts.
“Oh, God,” she manages, her voice still strained where I hold her neck. I grin, fucking her harder and rubbing her clit mercilessly the same way I sucked it the night I went down on her.
I don’t need verbal affirmation that she’s coming. I feel it in the pulses of her walls around my shaft, in the way her nails dig into where she holds my wrist, in the way her eyes roll up, like a spirit is taking over her body.
And if I had any doubt, it’s erased when she squirts all over me.
Her eyes fly open at the sensation, and I know without her saying anything that she’s never done it before. That makes it even fucking better, and I keep my pace on her clit, loving the way she covers me and the bed and the floor with her desire.
When she’s sated and shaking and tapping on my wrist to release, I let her go gently, slowing my pace a little and bending to kiss her neck where I’d held her. I was careful enough to know I wouldn’t leave any marks, but I still know it was rough, and I want my tender kisses to assure her she’s safe.
“Oh my God,” she finally breathes. “I fucking squirted.”
“Hell yeah, you did,” I growl, biting her earlobe before I stand again. Then, I wrap my hands around her thighs and pull her down the bed again, picking up my pace. “It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve never done that before. I’ve never… oooh, shiiiitttt.”
Whatever she was going to say is stolen when I start pounding into her deeper and harder, ready for my own release. Her tits bounce wildly, her hands gripping the sheets, and the sight of her writhing and moaning does the trick.
“Fuuuuck.”
I burst into the condom so hard I worry I’ll break it, the release I’ve been holding for weeks finding itself inside Becca. It’s all I can do to stay standing as I empty, stilling and letting my climax pulse out inside her as I hold onto her thighs for dear life. Stars and numbness take me over, take me under, and by the time I’m finished, there’s nothing I can do but collapse on top of her, and she wraps her arms around me, holding me, taking me, kissing my slick skin over and over and over.
I’m not sure how long we lie there, half on the bed, half off, both of us panting and sweating and sated. It’s not until she giggles that I manage to pick my head up enough to look at her.
“Well, seems all that waiting had a pretty explosive outcome.”
I smirk, using all the effort I have to discard of the condom before rolling us into the bed and wrapping myself full around her. I kiss her forehead, a deep and content s
igh leaving both our chests at the same time.
“You’re my favorite,” I whisper.
Becca nods, holding me tighter, and I know she feels the same.
EVERYTHING IS PERFECT.
It’s a bright contrast against the dark place I was in just a few weeks ago, when Adam and I weren’t speaking and I was convinced it was over for us. Completely and utterly over. It seemed we were at an impasse, with him firm in his righteousness and me firm in mine.
But then, just like he always does, Adam surprised me.
His apology and camping night on Boca Chita Key was everything I’ve come to expect from him, and yet somehow, it still takes my breath away. Because even when I don’t deserve his love, he gives it to me — as if he has no other choice.
I knew what I was asking of him was hard when I asked it. Accepting that I wanted to be friends with my ex-boyfriend? That’s a sticky demand for anyone to make, let alone with the history the three of us had.
But whether it was talking to Jeremy or realizing that he was still friends with Skyler without me having an issue with it, he came around. And more than anything, he showed me that he trusts me, that even if he doesn’t love the idea of me being friends with Grayson, he understands why I want to be, and why it’s important to me, and most importantly, that he can trust me to keep that friend zone firm.
It means more to me than anything else in our relationship, that earnest trust and support.
And it’s a giant step for us as a couple.
My heart has been afloat on the wings of butterflies ever since that night in the tent on the key, and a permanent smile is my favorite accessory. I’m wearing said smile the Sunday before Thanksgiving as the girls and I shop for semi-formal dresses, each of us filtering through the racks at our favorite dress boutique and piling hangers on our arms.
“Well, I’m glad you two worked it out,” Skyler says, eyeballing a red, glittery dress before putting it back on the rack. “I was worried there for a second.”
“Me, too,” Erin confesses. “But then again, I don’t think Adam could ever let you go — not now that he finally got you.”
Ritual: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 5) Page 19