HARDPRESSED (Ocean Falls Trilogy Book 1)

by Peyton Storm

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Something I hadn’t really don’t much of lately. When her own laughter filled the air, she suddenly felt too far away.

  “C’mere, girl.”

  “Oh?” she quipped, “You’re Texan is slipping. Again. Oh, my God! Wait right here!”

  Presley took off, sprinting down her hallway, which left me curious, confused, and still fully erect. I mean, what the hell was she doing? Just as quick as she’d left, she came barreling back through her bedroom door. Only this time, she was hiding something behind her back. She stepped up onto her perfectly made bed and hooked her index finger to draw me near. With a sinful grin, she placed a pink, sequin cowgirl hat on my head.

  “Now say it again,” she teased.

  For a split second, when her laughter overcame her, I found it hard to breathe. I still loved this girl. I was fucked, and I knew it. A glutton for punishment, indeed. I granted her wish, eager to give her any and everything she wanted.

  What began as a giggle turned into a full-blown squeal as I hooked my hands behind her knees and tossed her onto her back. Home. She was home, my home. My face started to hurt from all the smiling. Presley’s breath caught when I climbed up on the bed and hovered just above her. When her eyes widened, it dawned on me that the realization of what was about to happen was setting in for the both of us.

  Alcohol fueled, hard fast fucks had been my norm for far too long when I first left Ocean Falls, and it all ended up falling flat. Presley was different. She always had been.

  My skin tingled along with hers. We buried ourselves deeper into her snow-white bedding, and with every swipe of my tongue, her delicate fingers danced along my skin. A bite here, a tickle there. We took our time to rediscover one another, but still, I needed to be closer.

  My leg slid between hers, urging her to open. I pressed closer and reached up to let down her hair. Her body drew taut beneath me when the tip of my nose ran up the side of her neck, into her winding strands.

  I breathed deeply in hopes her scent would never leave me. Our voices mingled in the air, varying degrees of what old chick flicks called sweet nothings. All I knew was that with each giggle, moan, and staggered breath, my need for her grew more desperate.

  “Pres?” I choked out.

  “Hmm?”

  She slid her leg up even higher, arched her back, and when her nipples grazed against me, I nearly lost all sense of control and composure.

  We both scrambled towards her drawer of goodies. I was sure to fixate on that little tidbit again at another time, but right then, I just needed to feel her.

  “Preference?” she breathed as she gestured towards the white porcelain bowl that held a good dozen or so brightly colored condoms.

  “Purple.”

  At my request, color flushed across her cheeks, highlighting the dust of freckles just beneath her eyes.

  “Purple,” she agreed and pinched the corner of the wrapper between her teeth.

  Presley

  There we were, engulfed in a moment I never, in a million years, thought would happen. If I were smart, I would have shut it all down. I would have shook his hand, sent him on his way, and continued on with my life. After a long night of heavy binge drinking with Belle, of course.

  Instead, I held on. I held on tight to something, someone I wasn’t quite ready to lose. Not again.

  The only problem, though, as with many people in my life, I wondered how he would fit exactly. What was he truly looking for? The only committed relationship I’d been in for as long as I could remember was with my daughter. Before her? Greyson.

  I was no prude and had dated here and there. Not to mention whatever it is...was I had with Carter. The mom in me, the realist, the list maker, could over-analyze myself into full-blown panic mode. However, the woman in me wanted to set everything else aside for that one time with my high school sweetheart, the first boy I ever loved.

  He was taken aback by my boldness. It was a part of me he hadn’t really seen before. A part that hadn’t existed within the girl he once knew. Our fingers intertwined when I led him towards my bedroom. Where I had been wound tight earlier in the day, I had finally begun to feel more at ease. Greyson had as well until he spied what was in my nightstand.

  I wasn’t about to tell him that while they had initially been a gag gift from Belle, they’d come in handy once. Maybe twice. Did he still see me as that love-struck high school girl? Maybe. If so, that may be a conversation we’d need to have before moving forward. If we chose to move forward. Funny how in the midst of attempting to rationalize why his mind would go there, I allowed my own to do the exact same thing. If I was going to insist that he be in the now, I should probably join him.

  Sex is a complex phenomenon. It’s giving in to our own animal instincts. It can be about simply scratching an itch, basic science. Intimacy, on the other hand, doesn’t always come so naturally. With our history, one would think it would indeed be like second nature, but at the same time, it was our history that made things a bit tricky.

  His mouth, his touch, felt so familiar, and at the same time, it brought the blatant realization that I may not feel so familiar to him. Aside from Paisley’s dad, Greyson would be the only man I slept with both pre and post-baby body.

  I knew I was being silly, but there were indeed some changes to my body, albeit subtle. If I stayed in my mind much longer, that moment would be lost, and I knew in my gut, it would be lost forever.

  I pushed all doubt aside and stopped resisting him, simply gave in to the both of us. The tone, the mood, it was all so very different than our moment in the garage. He was soft, gentle even. It was as if we had all the time in the world, and maybe, just maybe, we did.

  He took his time to relearn the curve of my mouth. My heart swelled at the sight of his boyish grin when I messed his hair. It had been years since I felt it between my fingers like this. Time stood still as we intertwined with one another.

  His gravelly chuckle filled the air when he released my nipple from his mouth with a resounding pop. And with that, our playful petting turned, tossed, and turned some more. Greyson went from tickling the sensitive skin behind my knee to dragging his tongue along the crease.

  I could feel his body hovering just behind me. My senses came to life when he lowered his weight against my back and whispered against my ear.

  “Pres?”

  “Hmm?” I returned as he dug his fingers into my hips and hauled my body back, flush with his.

  “Drawer. Condom.”

  Through gritted teeth, his plea sounded strained, urgent. He drew me to my knees so that I could reach for my nightstand. When I asked if he had a color preference, my heart stilled in my chest as I waited, even though I knew exactly what he was going to say.

  “Purple.”

  Greyson was gentle. I never knew if it had been for my sake, his or a little bit of both. I liked to consider it the latter because there was a part of me that wanted, needed him to be a little on edge. I didn’t want to be a one night stand. I didn’t want to be part of his typical routine.

  It wouldn’t be fair for me to assume his lifestyle, and to be honest, it wasn’t something I cared to think too hard about. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be treated like one of many. So when he fumbled his way through the process of opening the condom, I couldn’t help but take pleasure and decided to play.

  “Need some help?”

  Color flushed his cheeks, and I was totally and completely done for.

  “Grey, allow me.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the sound of Grey coming from my lips, but he didn’t stop me when I took him in my hand, gripped tight, and slid from tip to base. With his knees spread wide, Greyson sat back onto his heels, fully exposed, and at my mercy.

  He peered at me from underneath heavy lids, and although his lips parted slightly, it was
I who spoke next.

  “You’re nervous. Why? It’s just me.”

  Before I knew what was happening, I found myself flat on my back, in the center of my bed with Greyson’s broad frame hovering just above me.

  “Yes,” he breathed against my ear as he drove his hips forward, stopping just shy of where I needed him most. “It’s you.”

  His voice sounded distant though the tip of his nose grazed against my own. My breath felt lodged in my throat when his hand slipped between us to ease my leg up and away from my body to allow him to press even closer.

  “Open,” he murmured, then dipped his thumb into my mouth. Greyson’s groan filled the air when my tongue wrapped around it. “Careful, darlin’.” He grinned and replaced his thumb with his tongue. It was still wet when he pressed his thumb against me and slipped inside. And soon, so was I.

  Tension built as he continued to play. He reveled in the reaction he drew from me. I lifted my hips to grind against the base of his palm. At the peak of my release, he could hold back no longer.

  “Yes,” he repeated. His eyes began to dance in wonder as though he were seeing me for the first time. “It’s you. Jesus Christ, Pres, it is you.”

  And with the same strength, agility, and precision he had on the football field, Greyson Tack Thomas drove his hips forward to carry me home.

  Every single nerve ending fired off amidst the chaos as our bodies fell into sync. We moved as one, breathless, and fully consumed. Whatever the fallout, and I knew there would be one, I’d face it ten times over to preserve that moment. To keep his touch, his scent...his everything.

  Chapter 20

  Greyson

  It’s funny how time can change so much, yet nothing at all. Presley’s stunning, light brown eyes with their flecks of blue and green still caught me off guard. And her smile would always bring all two hundred and eighty-plus pounds of me to my knees. Yet, at the same time, everything seemed new, undiscovered, and a little bit foreign.

  I found myself fumbling around, unsure of how to touch her, kiss her, all those things that had always come so naturally before. I’d previously faced the fact that Presley was no longer a teen girl who’d hung on my every word. Not that girl, but a woman, and with that, I was faced with the fact that time hadn’t stood still for me either.

  I loved my sport, but my body took a beating along the way. It was no secret that player injuries were often masked, swept under the rug, for the good of the team. I’d played with cracked ribs, torn ligaments, and there was no denying my multiple nose breaks. The fucker never did heal right. And don’t get me started on the torn pectoral muscle that damn near pulled, in its entirety, from the bone.

  That type of shit had never bothered me, though. In fact, I’d often compare stories with my brothers in the locker room. But what if it mattered to Presley? I mean, it hadn’t mattered to her before, but any and all boyish charm I may have once possessed was long gone. Chip—oh…excuse me, ‘Carter’—had played ball in high school too, but he was a quarterback, a mobile one at that. He’d also been gifted with a strong offensive line that kept him off his back. He was then, just as he appeared to be now, untouchable.

  I could have kept overthinking, but instead, Presley pulled me from my own thoughts and into hers. She had that familiar glint in her eye that always gave it away that she was up to no good. Long gone was the doe-eyed girl who had been giggling at my touch just a few moments earlier.

  Why did I freeze? I wasn’t sure. Maybe because before there had been no real pressure. I’d been caught up in simply retracing every inch of her with my fingers, tongue, and even the tip of my nose. She sent each and every one of my senses into overload.

  Now? It was go time, and for the first time in my life, I felt unsure, if not a bit out of place. We were at a point of no return, and I’d been reduced to a fumbling idiot.

  It’s just me…

  Only there was nothing simple or common about the fact that it was Presley Rae Manning, after all these years, who laid beneath me. Open. Inviting. She was playing with fire, and with each and every moan, touch and taste, she drew me closer, aching to lap at the flame.

  When she sucked hard on my thumb, I had to fight the urge to drive into her just as hard. No. This was something I would savor. And for me, to savor meant to draw from her slowly, if not fully controlled.

  I was fixated as I’d always been with the sight and sound of Presley riding the edge, fighting against the loss of control. With an arched back, she rose from the bed. Her head dropped back, lips parted, and when her cry fell silent, I knew it was time to send her over completely. But any control I may have thought I had slipped away as I slipped deeper, burying myself inside her.

  I fought between trying to keep the full weight of my body from her while getting closer still. Her raking her nails down the sides of my back confirmed that she too believed that as close as we were, it wasn’t quite close enough.

  Gone were my insecurities, my ‘what ifs’ and thoughts of anyone outside of the two of us. I lost myself in her touch, her scent, her taste. When I nipped at her earlobe, the sound of her laughter rocked me a bit, but I ignored the lump forming in my throat. I was already losing myself all over again, and whether I realized it at that moment or not, I was a better man for it. Even if I did remain on the outside looking in.

  My entire career, my livelihood, was based on winning, and anything short of a victory was a failure. There was no in-between, no such thing as a moral victory. When it came to Presley, though, it wasn’t about snatching her away from my opponent and taking the lead. It was about my need to be in her life. In whatever way she would have me. But that was a conversation for another day.

  My name began to spill from her lips as she matched my pace. Her body stilled as I withdrew, agonizingly slow. To hear it catch in her throat when I pressed back deep was my own undoing. I found myself drowning in everything she was and followed her over the edge.

  With a parched throat and unsteady limbs, I fell back against her pillows to catch my breath. No words were spoken as I laid with open arms. Before I could reach for her, she rose from the bed. My chest tightened, not knowing what to say or do. And just like that, I was back to overthinking things.

  With a sly grin, she slipped off the condom, strode towards her restroom, and closed the door. Okay. I laid there for several minutes, waiting for her to return. I was so tired, both mind and body. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and give in to the exhaustion. It seemed I would have to wait a little longer.

  Eight. That’s how many times I could track one of her ceiling fan blades before going cross-eyed.

  Five. Presley had a total of five pictures set up in her room of her and Paisley.

  Twelve. Twelve is how many books she had scattered around. There were books on both nightstands, her dresser, and even in the chair that sat in the corner of the room. Some things never changed.

  My lids grew heavy, but for a brief second, I considered knocking on the door to check on her, to make sure she was okay and ask if she needed anything. Instead, my pride crept up and demanded I keep my ass planted. If I were going to face absolute rejection, I was more than happy to delay it for as long as possible and after just a little bit of sleep.

  Only sleep wouldn’t come. Had it been a couple of minutes? A couple of hours? I really wasn’t sure. And just when I thought to call out to her, the lock on her bathroom door turned. She had locked me out. As she made her way back to the bed, I laid perfectly still, refusing to ask why.

  Right. Yeah, who am I kidding? The second her weight touched the mattress, I flipped on my side and opened my big mouth.

  “Why did you run?”

  She smiled sweetly, but her eyes revealed an effort to stall. When her mouth pressed against mine, I forgot, if only for a second, that she’d purposely locked herself away from me and had no intention of telling me why.<
br />
  She gently pulled away and splayed her open hand across the center of my chest, just as I’d often done to her all those years ago.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” she murmured.

  Again with the sweet smile, but those telling eyes. She was attempting to check out, and while I didn’t want to push, I couldn’t just leave things the way they were.

  “Presley.”

  “Greyson.”

  And so we slept.

  Presley

  I don’t know why I locked the door behind me. I’d love to say it was out of sheer habit, but that would be a lie. Not to mention the fact that I took extreme caution to do so with minimal noise. Once safely tucked away with my own thoughts, I simply stood with my back pressed against the door and willed my heartrate to reset back to normal.

  Though nature called, I had every intention of freshening up, splashing some cold water on my face, and elsewhere before rejoining him. Only that didn’t happen. Instead, I perched myself on the edge of my tub and stared off into space.

  As with most things in my life, there was no rhyme nor reason for what had just happened or even more so, why I was sitting in a cold bathroom talking to myself instead of being wrapped in his arms. Why? That single word question bounced around in my head over and over again with no real answer in sight.

  Guilt felt like too strong of a word. What did I have to feel guilty about anyway? I wasn’t in anything that even remotely resembled a committed relationship with anyone, Carter included.

  Had he and I slept together since Paisley’s birth? Again, yes. From my disastrous first dates to his and Matthew’s on and off again, we’d, at times, take comfort in one another. Had it been the best decision? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, we made sure to never give Paisley any false hope and were both consenting adults who didn’t owe an explanation nor an apology to anyone.