by Mia Ford
Seeing my eyes on her, she slowly turns and then winks at me again.
“Like what you see?” she teases.
“Yeah,” I croak.
Her thumbs hook into the hem of her jeans and her fingers scrape along her own skin, her eyes fluttering at the sensations she’s causing herself. It’s incredibly hot to watch her touch herself like this, and I make a note that I want to see it more.
Then she flicks open the button on her pants. She pulls the zipper down, agonizingly slow, and I watch every movement hungrily, stuck in place as she shows off. She wriggles the pants over her hips and slides them down her legs. My breath catches as she turns around and bends over, her panties pulling tight over her behind, which she wriggles at me as she takes her time pulling her feet free of each leg.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I tell her with a breathless laugh.
“At least it’ll be pleasurable,” she winks.
She straightens up, clad only in her panties now. They’re already wet, and I realize just how ready for me she is. She’s drawing this out and teasing me, but she’s just as desperate as I am. I admire her self control as she turns around, her hips sashaying obviously as she goes. She rubs the elastic band of her panties and I watch her hands.
“Take them off,” I say hoarsely.
She grins at me, and then slowly pulls them down over her hips. Her eyes meet mine, and she barely seems to be breathing either, as she watches me. She doesn’t bend over this time. She allows the panties to drop and she steps out of them, nudging them to the side with her foot.
Then, slowly, like a predator stalking her prey, Jessica walks toward me, all lithe grace and smooth skin that makes my mouth run dry. I reach out as soon as she’s close enough, my hands closing over her hips, and she swings a leg over my lap. Then she cups my face in her hands and kisses me deeply, dragging a moan from me as she sucks my tongue into her mouth, her teeth lightly scraping against it.
Everything is so hot and overwhelming, and I want her now more than ever. She wriggles on my lap, and my hips thrust upward as my fingers dig into her hips, frustrated by the barrier of clothes between us. When it gets too much, I push her back.
“I’m still wearing too many clothes,” I say, and my voice is deep and rough with the need I feel. “Want to do me next?”
When she grins back, I shudder. I’m not going to deny this anymore. I want her. Somehow, I’m going to make sure to keep her in my arms this time.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jessica
When Grants asks me to undress him, I can’t help but shiver at the thought as sparks run down my spine. His strong hands are holding my hips, and all I can focus on is the fiery trails that he leaves on my skin and the heated look in eyes his as he gazes at me. I curl a hand around the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, fingering the collar of his shirt as I do so. He’s still in his work clothes, and the stiff black clothes rub sensually against me. Every one of my nerves is on fire, and I never want this to end.
But I want to feel his naked skin more than anything. My questing fingers find the first button and I pop it open before going to down to the next one. I scrape my nails over his chest as more and more of it is revealed. His skin is hot and sweaty, dampening the shirt that he’s wearing and making his scent turn musky.
I take in a deep breath. The smell of him makes me feel dizzy and just heightens the arousal I feel as I sit on his lap. I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallows heavily, his face flushed and his pupils blown wide with desire.
Part of me wonders if this is a good idea. Are we just responding to the deep, overwhelming emotions we felt as we finally cleared the air? Will everything go back to normal tomorrow, when the clear air and the daylight will remind Grant of everything that has already gone wrong between us. Maybe I shouldn’t have come around tonight. If I’d waited until tomorrow, our heads would have been clearer and we could have made our decisions with logic rather than with our fickle hearts.
But even as I think that, I know it would never have worked that way. Maybe we wouldn’t have been as honest in the day;ight hours. Only time will tell whether that is a good thing or a bad thing.
For me, it’s only worked in my favor. All barriers are gone now. I didn’t realize that there was a part of me still waiting for that final confirmation of his innocence, despite the fact that I no longer cared for the end result. If he had been guilty, I don’t think it would have had a huge impact, because the person that Grant was so long ago is gone now, and I know and love the man who is my life in the present.
But I can’t deny that knowing for certain has made the part of my mind that still wondered relax. Every sensation now, seems tenfold, from my love to the happiness I felt when Grant said we can try one more time, to the desire that is now flooding through me. The world feels brighter and more hopeful; Grant has trusted me with the last of his secrets and we are going to attempt to move forward from here.
Maybe it won’t completely work out. In a month or two, maybe even in a year, we might decide that this relationship isn’t for us. But we’re going to give it a fighting chance, and that’s more important than anything else.
“You’re thinking hard,” Grant comments, his voice low. “Are you thinking about me?”
“Of course,” I say cheekily. I lean in and play with the collar of his shirt, my fingers brushing against his neck. “I’m thinking about just how much I want you to fuck me.”
Grant’s fingers tighten on my hips at my words, his grip almost bruising. My fingers brush against a bump on his skin, and I pull down his collar to see the mark I left on him last night. Sparks fly through my body at the sight of it as I remember, in detail, what happened between us last night.
“Good,” Grant says, and his hands slowly slide over my hips, toward my spine, causing a shiver to go up it as it arches at the unexpected contact. “But I’m still wearing too many fucking clothes. Are you going to fix that?”
“I’m getting there,” I say breathlessly. “All in good time.”
I lean in and lick the mark on his neck as he opens his mouth to reply, and his response changes into a guttural moan instead. I can taste the salt of his sweat, and he wriggles beneath me, his erection straining to be free. I gyrate my hips slowly on his lap, teasing him, and he bucks upward, seeking more of the pleasure I’m giving him.
Then I reach out and play with the buttons on his shirt. I pop them open one by one, blowing against his sweaty skin as I do, and he groans again. He leans over and bites on my collar, and I almost rip the last button off as I jerk at the pleasurable feeling.
“Shit,” I hiss. “If you do that, I’ll ruin your clothes.”
“Do I look like I care?” he asks, his voice low.
My heartbeat is wild in my chest, and I slip off his lap, so I can stand over him, leaning down to show him my ample breasts as I reach out to play with the zipper on his trousers, leaving his shirt hanging off his shoulders. He takes the invitation, his hands reaching out to cup my breasts and pinch the nipples. It makes it hard to think, but I manage to pull the zipper down and pop the button on his pants.
Then suddenly, he stands. I take a step back before he can push me over, and his hands lift me up, making me wrap my legs around him. His open pants slip down his hips and pool on the floor as he steps forward, carrying me, leaving him only in his boxers and an open shirt. His penis strains against a wet patch on the front, and I can feel it bouncing against me as Grant moves toward the bed.
“I think you’ve teased enough,” he says. “It’s my turn now.”
He drops me a short distance to the bed and steps between my legs. The silk of his boxers brush against my thighs and the sensation drives me wild as every over-sensitive nerve I have is set on fire. He shrugs his shoulders and his shirt falls down, the cotton gently stroking my skin on his way down.
“I want to feel you,” Grant says, leaning down to kiss my jawline. “I want to be in you and f
eel the way you clench around me.”
“Then do it!” I gasp, my back arching off the bed, groaning at the heated feeling that’s going through me. “Please!”
He growls at my plea and his hands wrap around my hips. I hear the rustle of material, and then his boxers slip to the floor. I can feel the heat from his leaking penis as it rubs against me, and I gasp sharply at the sensation, my legs wrapping around his hips to pull him in closer, wanting him so badly that I can’t even think straight any more.
Then I feel the tip of his penis sinking in me. My eyes roll back and my hips thrust shallowly down, trying to take more of him in as he slowly pushes inside. I can barely breathe in the heat that’s surrounding us, and all I can focus on is his skin and the way he’s penetrating me so deeply until he’s finally all inside.
I pant, trying to catch my breath. We’re connected so thoroughly that I’m dizzy with desire. I tighten my legs around Grant, trying to urge him to move, to touch me, to do something before I’m swallowed entirely by the lust throbbing through me in powerful waves. His hips jerk and I groan deeply at the feeling.
“Move,” I gasp.
He doesn’t reply, too breathless to do so. But I feel him sliding out of me, and then, without warning, he slams back inside.
I’m too physically and emotionally spent to keep up as Grant sets a quick, punishing pace. I weakly try to meet his thrusts, but I’m too overwhelmed by everything, especially when he angles his body and he hits a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes. My body jerks back and forward with each of his thrusts, and I’m helpless to do anything other than feel him and clench around his thick penis, wanting to keep it within me as long as I can while, at the same time, begging him to draw me over the edge and into release.
Grant thrusts once, twice more and my vision whitens. My entire body shudders, wracked with pleasure, and I’m carried away on the waves of release that wash over me as my orgasm hits unexpectedly. My hands find Grant’s shoulders and I cling to him like he’s an anchor in the storm, barely feeling him thrust into me once more before he, too, orgasms deep within me.
Soon, though, my eyes clear and I pant, gazing up at Grant with tired eyes. He’s falling forward, toward me, but he catches himself as he braces his arms on either side of me with a breathless laugh, pulling his flaccid penis from me as he does so. His chest is heaving and he twists his body so that he can collapse down beside me.
For a long moment, neither of us say anything, just trying to catch our breaths. Then Grant grins.
“Just so you know… This wasn’t why I asked you to come around,” he says.
I snort in laughter and reach out to poke him in the side.
“Shut up,” I say.
Grant chuckles and sits up.
“Bed?” he asks hopefully.
“Yeah,” I say thankfully.
We crawl up to the head of the bed and slip under the covers. Grant hesitates, and then reaches out to pull me toward him so I can snuggle against his chest. I smile at this show of trust and curl up against him.
Then, completely content, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
It’s still dark when I stir awake. Grant is lying beside me, his breathing deep and even. My body aches but my mind is light for the first time in years. I want to just stay here forever.
I gently lay my head on his chest, but the movement rouses Grant, and his breathing hitches before his eyes flutter open. I watch as the first thing he does is look down to see if I’m still there, and that makes me sad. But it’s understandable, of course. I have a long way to go in order to win back his trust.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rough with tiredness. He glances over at the clock and his eyebrow raises. “Why are you awake?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a yawn. “I think my mind is a little too active at the moment to let me sleep properly.”
He smiles softly. It gives me a thrill to see that smile, finally, directed toward me.
“Do you want to get up?” he offers.
“No,” I say instantly. “I’m happy staying right where I am.”
He chuckles. The sound rumbles pleasantly through his chest. I love the sound of his laughter. I love everything about him. How could I be so lucky as to get another chance with him?
He doesn’t say anything more and, eventually, his breathing evens out once more. I close my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
“I’m going to make everything up to you,” I promise him. I don’t know whether he’s still awake, but I need to say the words. “Somehow, I’m going to show you how sorry I am for everything.”
“It’s not fine,” he says, and I start; part of me had thought he was asleep again. “It’s never going to be fine. But, I think it’s going to be okay, eventually.”
I remember telling Allison, what seemed a lifetime ago, that her guy was one of a kind. It seems I had forgotten that I have my own amazing man right here. My eyes burn and I smile as I press a soft kiss against his collar bone.
“I hope so,” I say. I pause. “I’m taking Owen to the park on Sunday. Would you like to come with us? We can go as a family.”
I feel his breath stutter in surprise.
“I’d like that,” he says. Then he laughs again. “I’d really like that.”
I smile again and close my eyes. Yes, somehow, we’re going to come out the other end of this. I don’t know how long this will last, or whether we’ll find it easier to co-parent Owen while just being friends, but regardless of what we decide, I can suddenly see a much brighter future for us both. We’re going to do the best we can for Owen.
And we’re going to do our best for each other, too.
Epilogue
Grant
One month later…
I hear a clatter in the kitchen and I make my way there, peering through the door. I blink when I see that Owen is at the sink, cheerfully washing his hands under the running water. He’s dragged a chair from the table over there to stand on.
“Hey,” I say, stepping fully into the room. My heart clenches when I realize that Jessica isn’t in there. I think I can hear her in the bathroom, so our mischievous son has taken the moment when she turned away to do this. “What are you doing there, Owen?”
Owen looks around at me. Guilt is written all across his small face.
“Washing my hands,” he tells me.
I blink and notice the packet of pasta beside me. I raise an eyebrow.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He takes his soaking hands from under the water. I hold my stern expression for a moment before chuckling and sweeping him off the chair.
“Sorry, buddy, you aren’t old enough to cook yet,” I tell him. “Let your mom or I cook for you for a little longer, yeah?”
Owen pouts. Jessica has mentioned, in recent weeks, Owen’s increasing fascination with the kitchen, ever since the two of them baked cookies together. Personally, I think he’s just fascinated by using the forbidden oven. It’s something he’s been told he’s not allowed to touch so, of course, he wants to get inside it and see why it can cook such delicious cookies.
“Jessica!” I call, raising my voice a little to be heard. “Owen was at the kitchen sink!”
“What?”
I hear a clatter, as though Jessica has knocked something over. Moments later the toilet flushes and the tap runs before Jessica is dashing out of the bathroom, skidding on the linoleum floor. She pauses, though, when she sees me holding Owen, both of us blinking at her, stunned by her sudden reaction.
“Um…?” I ask.
“Oh,” Jessica says, flushing. “Yesterday he got into the flour and sugar; it was everywhere. If he was at the sink, then he probably wanted to try cooking again.”
I raise an eyebrow at the three-year-old in my arms. He looks far too pleased with himself.
“I think he was trying to make cookies again,” Jessica continues with a sigh. “Owen, I’ve told you th
at you’re not allowed in the kitchen unless Daddy, Hazel or I are with you. I’ll give you a time-out if you do it again.”
Owen’s face abruptly changes to horror. Time-outs mean not being allowed to play with his toys while he’s forced to sit quietly at the dining room table for five whole minutes. I cough to hide my snicker and Jessica winks at me.
“No!” Owen wails.
“Then be good,” Jessica says severely. “Don’t you want Daddy to take you to the park tomorrow?”
He immediately turns beseeching eyes on me.
“Can we?” he begs.
“Um…” I say, drawing it out as I pretend to think. I give it up quickly, though, when his eyes shimmer. No matter how many times Jessica tells me that they’re mostly crocodile tears, I fall for it every time. “Yes, we’re going. If you’re good for the rest of the night.”
“Okay!” Owen chirps, beaming.
Jessica rolls her eyes.
“Stop spoiling him,” she scolds. “He’s got you wrapped around his little finger.”
“Sorry,” I say, trying to look as contrite as possible.
“Ugh, you’re both as bad as each other,” Jessica complains.
But she laughs as she says it, her eyes twinkling as she looks at the two of us. I feel a broad grin spreading across my own face, beaming at her as I set Owen down on the ground. Immediately, he runs off toward the living room.
“Owen playing with food, though, has reminded me that it’s getting late,” Jessica says, glancing at the clock. “Want to help with dinner?”
“Sounds good,” I say, shrugging.
I step into the kitchen after her and head to the cupboard. Jessica messaged me earlier, telling me that she had bought ingredients for a steak stew, so I go straight to the plastic bag that is still sitting on the counter and rummage through it as Jessica finds some pots in the cupboard.