by Celeste, B.
Breath hitching, I hold onto his shoulders and look him in the eyes. Our breathing is ragged, wanting, intermingled with the anticipation. I don’t tell him I want this again, not with words. Instead, I squeeze his shoulders and kiss him, molding our lips together and holding him to me so his weight shifts on top of my body. I guide my hand to his rock-hard cock and pump him until he shudders. He places a hand over mine, helping me jerk him until he guides himself at my entrance, pauses, and gives me one final glance before his mouth buries itself in the crook of my neck the same time he enters me in one, deep stroke.
I instantly arch into him, feeling him everywhere. I squeeze my arms around his neck and moan when he slowly pulls out and pushes back in. It’s not rushed. It’s not hard. It’s soft, caring, like he wants it to last. He moves over my body and touches my skin and kisses my lips with the kind of need I want to absorb and feel and think about even when the moment is over.
And that’s what this is. A moment.
A moment of bliss as his bare cock buries itself inside of me over and over, and one where my hips meet his every thrust eagerly. We feed off each other, our tongues and limbs tangling and grasping and gasping and playing until the familiar flutter in the pit of my stomach returns.
My hands trail down his back, my nails digging in as he shifts his weight and enters me at a deeper angle. I grab his ass and meet his hips, egging him on to push into me harder, deeper, and feel him hit the perfect spot until my eyes roll and black dots fill my vision. He does it again and again, the movement never going as fast as I want but making my body burn all the same.
Sliding one of his arms under me, he lifts my body and thrusts into me while covering one of my nipples with his mouth and suckling it. My eyes stay closed as I take in the sensation of his cock twitching every time I clench around him and his breath blowing on the wet breast he plays with. He holds my hand with his free one, trying to keep me close, and breathes my name onto my lips when they meet mine for a scorching kiss like he’s feeding me oxygen.
And every time he hits that spot leaving me moaning, I think about all the other feelings that should squeeze my chest. I feel desire, the yearning of comfort, but there’s something lacking that I search for as his cock drives into me. So, I hold on tighter to his body and rock into him when his hips thrust forward. I listen to the sound our bodies make, and the way our breaths get louder. My pleas become desperate, my mind swarming with thoughts and wishes and hope.
Hope that this is enough.
Hope that this turns into what I want.
Not an escape. Love.
I search for that feeling as his thrusts becomes more demanding, knowing we’re both going to come when he slides a hand down my body and plays with my clit. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I grind into him and pant and beg until my body gets what it wants.
Not needs. Wants.
That feeling I search for in our intimacy is lost amidst the sweat and scent of good sex. I lose the way my mind tries latching onto to how he holds me, how he moves me into positions that gets me off too. He knows how to work me, how to hold me, and how to kiss me with reason.
But even after he pulls out and presses me against his side, peppering kisses against my temple and hair, I know the feeling isn’t there.
No matter how bad I want it to be.
I place a hand on his chest and caress the sweat dotting it, my eyes closing as I listen to his rapid heartbeat beginning to even. His lips stay pressed against the crown of my head, his warm breath soaking into my hair.
“You okay?” he asks.
I choke down my tears. “Yeah.”
An hour later after cleaning up in his bathroom, I make an excuse to go home to my best friend and Ainsley. I just pray my roommate isn’t there to see the tears that burn my eyes when I make it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I wake up the next morning with Jenna and Ainsley both still sleeping beside me in my bed. My face feels puffy from crying against Jenna’s shoulder, my chest heavy from things I don’t want to think about before eight in the morning.
A brown pair of eyes meets mine, a little hand reaching out and touching my cheek. I smile at her, already feeling better just knowing she’s here with me. I cover her hand with mine, sliding her palm to my mouth to press a kiss against it.
“I love you,” I whisper against her hand, smiling as her tired eyes brighten. “I’m feeling like waffles this morning, what do you say?”
From the other side of Ainsley, I hear Jenna grumble, “Too early. Sleep.” I bite back my laugh as I let go of Ainsley’s hand and kiss her forehead, gesturing for her to get out of bed with me.
We walk downstairs hand in hand, my eyes unintentionally lingering to the open landing above us where Easton’s closed door is. I pick Ainsley up and set her on the island counter, giving her a glass of almond milk and grabbing the ingredients we’ll need to make breakfast.
I already have a few made by the time Jenna strolls down, bedhead, tired eyes, and dried drool gracing the corner of her mouth. I snicker at her less than stellar appearance, forgetting how much she hates mornings. She spends an hour getting ready, so nobody would guess what kind of zombie she resembles first thing.
“Morning.”
“Shut it.”
I snort and gesture to the full coffee pot I have yet to indulge in. She grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours herself a cup, getting her usual cream from the fridge and dumping in an ungodly amount of sugar. Her sweet tooth is one I could never match, and I always wondered how she stayed so skinny knowing how much she ate of it. Then again, she also goes to the gym every day which is something I don’t do.
“I can feel your judgement,” she mumbles, bringing the cup to her lips and standing beside Ainsley. She sets the mug down after taking a sip and ruffles Ainsley’s hair until my six-year-old smiles and bats her hand away.
I check the waffle maker before peeling the next one out and setting it onto the plate. “I’m not judging you,” I lie.
She mutters under her breath and sits down at the counter, pulling out a stool. “I want to talk about last night.”
Freezing, my eyes go to Ainsley. She’s playing with Jenna’s phone. “Not right now, okay?”
“You were c-r-y-i-n-g.”
“Ainsley can spell, you know.”
My bestie sighs. “I just want to know that you’re okay. You said you were last night, but then you snotted all over my shirt. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t equate to being okay.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I stare at the machine in front of me as it cooks the batter. “I didn’t have a bad night. In fact, it was a good night given the circumstances.”
“Okay…”
My shoulders slump ever so slightly as my eyes close. Admitting what I’d done was impossible last night. I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t regret it. But as soon as I stepped inside, I couldn’t hold back the waging emotions battling inside of me. I started sobbing as soon as Jenna asked how it went.
I had sex with Carter.
I had good sex with Carter.
My professor.
My old crush.
A family friend.
And despite the fact he was gentle and kind and respectful, I couldn’t fathom a response to Jenna’s question. How’d it go? I felt like Carter Ford was pouring his feelings into me with every kiss, caress, and thrust, but I couldn’t do the same. No matter what kiss I returned, touch I matched, or thrust I met, it wasn’t enough.
I wanted it to be.
“I don’t think I can love,” I whisper, not wanting to say it too loud in fear of who will hear. Ainsley. Easton. Myself.
“Piper,” she says softly. I can hear the pity in her tone, and I brush it off as I peel the waffle from the maker. “That’s ridiculous. You can love. You love your family, you love Ainsley. What would make you think you can’t?”
I keep my back turned to her as I fight with my shaky jaw, grinding down on my teeth to control my emot
ions. The swell of bitterness rises in my chest, suffocating me slowly until I have to force a breath. “Because I didn’t feel it last night when I should have.”
For a moment, there’s a pause. “Hey, Ains? Mind if I talk to Piper for a minute? You can go buy whatever game you want on my phone and play.”
I wince at what a bad idea that is. Ainsley once got ahold of my phone a year ago and purchased over a hundred dollars worth of games. I had to fight to get them refunded. When little feet make their exit out of the room, phone in hand, I blow out a breath knowing what’s coming.
“You slept with him.”
I simply nod.
Her hand finds my arm. “Okay. That’s not a bad thing, right? You’ve always said that Carter has treated you well. Did he—”
“No!” I already know where she’s taking it when I see concern in her eyes. “No, he was great. Really, Jen. But…” I lick my lips and scrub at my eyes, not wanting to cry again. “It was great and I didn’t feel anything. I mean I felt things, but not what I wanted to feel. You know?”
“Babe, you don’t have to fall for the guy after having sex with him,” she points out, brows raised. “Love takes time. Don’t beat yourself up over not being head over heels or exchanging those kinds of words just because the guy was inside you.”
Heat settles into my cheeks. “It’s not that. I know I don’t have to say that because of what we did. But he’s always been so kind to me. Look what he did for me with my student teaching? He saved me from having to wait another semester to finish my degree.”
“Do you think you owe him?”
My eyes widen. “No. It’s—” I realize how bad this is coming out, so I recollect myself and take a deep breath. Counting to five, I exhale and look at her. “I felt things before. Things I didn’t feel with him. No spark. No… I don’t know, connection? Not a real one anyway. And I kept searching for one because I knew there had to be something. There just wasn’t.”
“When you say you felt things before…”
Popping my lips, I avoid her brazen stare as she tries wringing an answer out of me. “You know I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex before.”
She smacks my arm. “Piper!”
I rub the spot she hit and frown. “Ow. That actually hurt, She Hulk. I’m getting you food, no need to physically harm me.”
“Tell me who!”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, counting the waffles on the plate to see if I have enough. Choosing to be safe, I pour the last of the batter in the machine and rinse out the bowl while it cooks. “I really don’t think it matters, Jenna.”
Her hand comes out and stops me from rinsing the ladle in my hand. “Oh my God. It’s Easton.” She hisses out his name, eyes widening but bright with accusation.
I don’t confirm it or deny it. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I—”
“Stop right there. You had s-e-x with a hottie last night and came home crying.” She stares me in the eye. “That means that you’re hung up on somebody else, so it matters. Be real with me. I’m your best friend. Are you in love with Easton?”
Are you in— Why does my heart suddenly feel like I’ve been running? It beats wildly in my throat as I repeat those words. Well, just one of them.
Love. Am I in love with Easton?
“I don’t see how I could be,” is what I say.
“Oh my God,” she repeats, this time in awe. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but I’m sure it can’t be good. “You’re in love with that sex on a stick. I should have seen this coming.”
“What does that mean?”
She actually claps her hands like this is the best news she’s heard in forever. “Piper, I’m going to level with you, okay? After Danny, I didn’t know what would happen to you. You closed yourself off and sunk into this deep pit that I couldn’t get you out of. You pretended you were fine because of Ainsley, but the world could see you weren’t. And that night when I forced you to get drunk off your ass here was the first time you let your guard down.”
Some good that did.
That was the first night I slept with Easton. Jenna had sobered up hours later and drove herself home. Easton and I kept drinking, kept staring, kept getting closer. Before I knew it, his mouth was on mine and my hands were on his body and we were naked and in a very compromising position in my bed. We’d had sex three times that night, all rushed and rough but never sloppy. Despite the amount of alcohol I drank, I remember every single detail.
“You became somebody who was living again because of him,” she continues, squeezing my hand that I didn’t realize she’d taken into hers. “Then when you admitted that you guys were doing the casual sex thing, I could tell it was helping you. You were brighter, happier. It wasn’t until a couple months ago that shifted, and I don’t know how many times I ignored the signs. Whenever I’d come over, you two would stare at each other when the other person wasn’t looking. You’d blush if he accidently touched you. It was like you were trying to pretend nothing had gone down even though a lot already had.
“Piper, think about it. Have you introduced Ainsley and Carter yet? Have you had him over for dinner or even considered it? I know you have his number, but have you used it? You have to wonder why that is. It’s not because you’re scared or because he’s your professor or even because your family knows him. I doubt it even has to do with the age gap you said is there because you’ve told me time and time again you haven’t even thought about it when you’re with him. So, what’s really holding you back?”
But it’s not what’s holding me back that she’s trying to pry out of me. It’s who. And that realization is a sucker punch to the gut that I feel everywhere.
Her features soften when mine become hyperaware of every answer to her questions. I haven’t brought up Carter coming inside even when he’s picked me up and dropped me off. I’ve never been ready to introduce him to Ainsley because a part of me knew there was something worth waiting for—a realization.
My eyes water as I look at her. “Fuck, Jenna. W-What am I going to do?”
“Easton never came home last night,” she tells me openly. “If this is what you want, you need to talk to him. You both have clearly been with other people, so if you want to just be with him…”
Dread fills my veins. “But how do I even know he wants to be with me? We’ve fought too many times. He said awful things to me.”
“Whoa.” Her eyes narrow. “You have been holding out on me, girl. First, I’m going to need you to give me every detail. But not before we eat, because I really will go She Hulk if I don’t have something with this coffee.”
Her joking doesn’t make me feel any better. It just locks me in my state of haze as I think about Easton. Again.
How many times have I thought about him when I shouldn’t have? Subconsciously, I’ve been comparing Carter to him—to what we had. And if he really feels the way he does about me when we argued, then I stand no chance. There’s a chance that I’ll experience heartbreak all over again.
This time because of Easton Wyatt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m finishing my exam when I realize I’m the only one left in the room. Carter’s eyes go to me more often now that nobody else can see. My first day of being recorded while teaching was yesterday. I showed up ten minutes before class to set up and prepare for the lesson. It gave little opening for Carter and me to talk.
I know he’s thinking about it, what happened to us. He texted me the following day and asked how I was. My one-word response left him calling. I answered and had a fifteen-minute conversation with him about how Cap was doing and how great supper was and how much fun I had before telling him I made plans with Ainsley.
But he looks at me now like he knows there’s something more to it. He’s a smart man. I wouldn’t be surprised if my face is covered in guilt and sorrow. I may not even need to say the words for him to know if I just meet his eyes.
Easton stayed out for the weekend, leaving me stewing
in my contemplation. I didn’t text him because I didn’t want to have that conversation over the phone. But I realized after Sunday came and went that he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.
Jenna told me to rip off the Band-Aid. But I’d be ripping off two, and flesh would come with it.
When I finish my test, I slowly pack my things and prepare myself. I slip my bag over my shoulder and make the walk up to his desk, gripping the bag strap in my hand.
“Please look at me, Piper.”
I give myself a moment, blink, and then tip my chin up to meet him with a frail smile. He accepts my paper and sets it down with the others, quickly ignoring it. “I’m pretty sure I passed,” I offer weakly.
He stands, walking around his desk and sitting on the edge of it beside me. Reaching out, he brushes our hands together, linking our pinky fingers for a moment before drawing back. A subtle touch, quick, painless.
It doesn’t feel painless.
“Talk to me,” he says. It’s a soft demand, one that tells me to reach for the Band-Aid. “I can see it in your eyes, Piper.”
I let out a tiny breath. “See what?”
“You weren’t ready.”
My heart hurts. “I…” I close my eyes for a moment and push past the swirl of thoughts that flood my mind.
I’m drowning. Drowning in my indecision and pain, wondering if I’ll survive if I submerge myself under the murky waters of my conscious. I want freedom from the pain that shoots through me like a drug in my bloodstream. I need clarity.
Just once.
Swallowing hard, I open my eyes. There are no tears that greet my ducts or a sharp breath that escapes my lips like I can no longer breathe. I asked for a temporary freedom and was given it enough to have this moment.