by Gwyn McNamee
Our gasps mingle with our breath as the kiss deepens further, and I can’t seem to get close enough to him. I want to crawl inside of him, become part of him, let him become a part of me, even more than he already has.
I can’t imagine not having him, not having this, in my life. I thought I was happy before. I thought great sex was enough, but I was wrong. I need this. I need someone who wants me to be their everything. I need Savage.
His hand slips between our grinding bodies and glides down my belly until he finds my throbbing core.
“Oh, God, please!” I gasp into his mouth as he lingers against my flesh, barely skimming the surface, doing nothing but stoking the desperate need coiled inside me.
“Please, what? Tell me what you want, baby.” His husky voice vibrating against my lips resonates through my body. My clit pulses against the palm of his hand. I roll my hips against him, grinding against his palm, urging him to move and put me out of my misery.
“You,” I manage to gasp out as he slips his fingers inside me.
Finally.
I clench around them and he groans against my mouth.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He slowly slides his fingers out, then thrusts them in again, beginning a steady rhythm I match with my hips. His palm grinds against my clit and he increases the pace. My entire body heats, my skin flushing and my head spinning, signaling my impending orgasm. Hot breath floats across my neck as he kisses his way to my ears, grazing his teeth over the lobe and finally sends my body spinning into an explosive orgasm.
His hand and mouth never still until I collapse onto him, panting against the damp skin of chest. He nuzzles in my hair, pressing his lips against my head and gently rubbing my back. His hard cock is pressed against my belly, and, as I regain my senses, I reach between us to grasp it, craving the hot flesh in my hand.
Just as my thumb slips across the wet tip, he grabs my wrist and rolls me onto my back. “I’m not done with you yet.”
I groan in frustration as he shifts me up against the headboard so he can drop his head between my legs. I comply, simply because he leaves me no other choice. His strong arms hold me down as he teases his tongue along my swollen and overly-sensitive flesh. I shudder and grip his shoulders, digging my fingers into the firm muscles as he probes inside me.
He doesn’t go easy on me, even though I know he is more than aware of how sensitive I am after I come. He draws my clit between his lips and sucks in time with my undulating hips. I grip his hair, tugging on it and pulling him closer, frantic for another release.
This one comes so quickly, it blindsides me, my world spinning out in a shattering of stars and flashes of light. I cry out his name, smashing myself against his face, riding out the orgasm until I’m so sensitive I have to push him away and beg him to stop.
I collapse against the headboard, and he nuzzles my stomach, kissing his way up to lavish attention to my breasts. His hot breath across my nipples makes me shudder against him, craving him inside me more now than I ever have in the past.
“You okay, baby?”
I manage to nod as he presses his lips to mine, the taste of my release still there.
Sliding my tongue along his bottom lip, I suck it into my mouth and he groans, shuddering against me. He wraps his arms around my back and rolls onto his back. I slide down and straddle him, pressing my drenched pussy against his cock and rock my hips.
His eyes roll back into his head and he digs in his fingers into my hips. I roll my hips again and his eyes fly open, raw need emanating in the blue depths. I lean down and kiss him, pouring my need for him into the act.
Yes. This. We both need this.
I shift forward until the head of his cock is resting against my core and rock against him again, catching his groan in my mouth.
He sits up so we are face-to-face. Reaching down, I grasp him and moan in appreciation at the thick, hot flesh in my hand. His cock bucks against me, his fervent kiss continuing while I position him at my entrance.
His heart races against my chest and his skin feels cold and clammy. He’s no longer returning my kiss and is taking short, jagged, gasping breaths.
I pull back and find his eyes squeezed shut. His cock deflates in my hand and I move quickly to capture his face between my palms.
Something is seriously wrong here.
“Savage, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move, other than to take rapid, shallow breaths. His entire body shakes violently. His arms tighten around me as he clings to me like a lifeline and his breathing nears hyperventilation.
Holy shit, he is having a full-blown panic attack.
He latches onto me, burying his face against my neck. I hold him close and his chest heaves. The cool clamminess of his skin against mine is unnerving. I’ve never seen someone like this.
Jesus, what the fuck do I do?
“Savage, baby, it’s okay, just breathe.” I try to soothe him, but I have no fucking clue what’s happening, what brought this on, and he’s completely unresponsive.
How the hell do I get through to him?
Asking him what’s wrong does nothing and he fights any attempts for me to pull away. So, I hold him, murmuring reassurances to him for what seems like an eternity while my mind races with every scenario that might have brought this on.
When I finally reach the answer, my heart freezes in my chest.
Sex. It’s sex.
Every single time I’ve tried to take it past fooling around and oral, he makes some excuse or distracts me. I had him practically inside me this time, and he’s having a meltdown over it.
Why? What did I do?
I search every moment we’ve spent together over the last three months for any explanation, but find none.
Eventually, his breathing slows and his body stops shaking. Even then, he maintains his iron grasp on me and refuses to respond to my increasingly concerned questions.
“Savage, what’s wrong? Baby, please talk to me.” I try to pull away again, but he clutches me tighter, preventing me from seeing his face. I don’t need to see it to know he’s crying. My skin is soaked from his tears rolling down from my collarbone onto my breast.
A man like Savage doesn’t cry. At least, not in front of someone. Whatever this is, it’s killing him. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless. There’s absolutely nothing I can do because I don’t even know what the problem is.
Minutes tick by with complete, unnerving silence in the room. His pain hangs heavy in the air but I can’t seem to bring him back from wherever he is.
Come on, Savage. Talk to me.
I beg. I urge him to tell me what’s going on. I try everything with no response.
When he finally shifts, slowly releasing his grip on me and leaning back, relief floods me.
Finally.
His eyes are vacant, red, and puffy, and he doesn’t seem to focus on me, rather, some place behind me in the room.
I take his face in my hands, turning him until his empty eyes meet mine. “Savage, tell me what’s wrong.” He shakes his head and drops onto his back, resting his forearms over his eyes without a word.
Seriously?
Despair and anger create a volatile mix inside me. I slide off his hips and kneel next to him, taking a deep, cleansing breath before I try again.
“You aren’t going to tell me what’s going on?”
No response.
His arms remain draped over his eyes, his body motionless, except for the now-steady slow rise and fall of his chest. I watch him, waiting for him to acknowledge me, acknowledge anything, but he doesn’t, and it becomes abundantly clear to me he has no intention of talking to me about what happened.
Why, Savage? What can’t you just fucking talk to me?
The realization has me clutching my chest against the pain of my heart being torn open. I bite back the sob that threatens to escape. Tears slide down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying.
“Savage, please ta
lk to me,” I manage to eke out before I sob, “I need you to talk to me.” He doesn’t budge, and as the pain of knowing he can’t confide in me overtakes me, I shift back on the bed, away from him. I slide off the mattress onto shaking legs and have to grab the bedpost to stop from falling forward as another sob echoes in the too-silent room.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are so quiet, I’m not even sure I really hear them. Wiping my eyes, I turn back to the bed and find him in the same position, but his arms have moved up, revealing his red-tinged, hopeless gaze. He looks completely lost, but he won’t take the lifeline I’ve repeatedly offered him.
“Why won’t you talk to me? Please, tell me what’s wrong,” I beg, not even bothering to try to hide my distress.
What does it matter at this point?
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he refocuses on me, I know I won’t get an answer. Gone is the Savage who always promised to be an open book, who always said he would be honest with me. All that’s left is a brick wall of silence.
“I’m sorry…I just…can’t,” he whispers.
I drop my head, close my eyes, and try to breathe through the heaving of my chest. When I finally look back at him, a single tear slides from his eye and rolls back down his cheek to his pillow. I know what I need to do, but the pain of actually following through with it may kill me.
My eyes lock on his. I brush aside what my heart is begging me to do, and decide it’s time to listen to my head for once. “Then, I need to go.”
He flinches, but otherwise doesn’t move, and doesn’t respond. “I don’t know what is going on with you. I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, but if you told me we couldn’t have sex because of something that happened with the accident, that would be okay. It wouldn’t be a deal breaker…because I love you. I don’t need…that…but this, this isn’t physical Savage, and you won’t fucking talk to me, so how the hell can we ever fix it? You not talking to me…that is a deal breaker.”
His vacant stare never wavers and I turn to the bathroom, confident I’m doing what I need to do, while, at the same time, sure I am making the biggest mistake of my life. I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look back.
Looking back would break me further, and what is happening isn’t healthy for either of us.
Why the hell did I ever let myself fall in love with him?
I close the door behind me and slide down it until the cold tile of the floor hits my naked skin. I drop my face into my hands and give in to the relentless agony of what I’ve done.
I watch her disappear in the bathroom and hear her fall apart the second the door clicks shut. The sound of the latch falling into place might as well be a gun firing, because I’m pretty confident I just killed the best thing that ever happened to me. Even though my heart is no longer racing like I ran a marathon, my body continues to shake and I scrub my hands over my face to try to clear my head.
Fuck.
I can’t be here when she comes out. I can’t face her after that, after I completely fell apart in front of her, after I literally withered in her hand.
Getting out now is my only concern. I dress quickly in sweatpants and a t-shirt and grab Princess, who is waiting at the closed bedroom door. I cross the hall and pound on Gabe’s door. I know better than to open it without knocking, even though I know it’s unlocked. I have inadvertently walked in and seen his naked ass riding whatever girl came home with him that night. I love the guy, but love only goes so far.
He doesn’t answer so I pound on the door again, anxious to get gone before Danika tries to leave the condo. Finally, the door opens, and a very haggard looking Gabe glares at me.
“What the fuck dude? It’s 3:30 in the morning.”
“I know,” I say, handing Princess to him, “but I need you to come to the gym with me.”
He pets her and lets her lick his face before he gives me an annoyed look. “The gym? Now?”
“Yes, right now. Go get changed and let’s get out of here. Leave Princess at your place. You don’t have someone here with you, do you?”
He rolls his eyes and sets her down. I follow him into his place. “No, she left an hour ago. Want to tell me what’s going on? You look like shit.”
Fuck no, I don’t want to tell you what’s going on. That’s the last thing I need right now, my best friend knowing I’m a fucking failure in bed.
“No, please, just go change.”
He throws up his hands in resignation and disappears down the hall, Princess following closely at his heels. I know she’ll settle in, probably in the middle of his feather bed, and sleep until we get back.
At least that’s one female I know I can please.
Fuck.
I run my hands back through my hair and squeeze my eyes closed, trying to shut out the vivid image of the look on Dani’s face when she told me she loves me…and that it’s over.
It doesn’t help, but maybe banging the weights or hitting the bag will.
Gabe reappears, looking just as annoyed as he did a minute ago, and grabs his gym bag and the keys.
We ride down in the elevator in silence. I know he’s dying to ask me what’s going on, but he keeps his mouth shut, probably sensing he would lose his head if he asks again. I pull myself into the passenger seat and he puts my chair in the trunk before we set out in continued silence.
Halfway through the ride to the gym, I finally can’t take him glancing over at me anymore.
“She told me she loves me.”
He jerks and swings his head to look at me, then quickly returns to looking at the road. “What? Well, that’s great, isn’t it? Why are you so upset?”
I pause before answering, trying to figure out how much to tell him. “Because I blew it.”
“Shit. How? What did you do? What did you say?”
I release a deep sigh and slouch down, resting my temple against the cool glass of the window. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” The surprise in his voice is more than evident, and I can only imagine what is running through his head right now. “What the fuck, Savage?”
“I know. I fucked up everything.” An unfamiliar tightening in my chest has me reaching up and rubbing it.
What if I can’t fix this? What if it’s too late?
We pull into the parking lot of the gym and Gabe throws the car in park, turning to look at me. “Do you love her?”
My head snaps around to face him. “Of course I do. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Then why didn’t you tell her that?”
The million dollar question. Why didn’t I tell her anything? Why, in that moment when the only thing keeping me here, keeping me together was her, couldn’t I tell her? “Because, I’m so fucked up, Gabe. I don’t know what to do.”
“What happened?”
My mind races through the evening, how much fun we had at the gallery, despite the run-in with Andrew and Becca. The car ride home, my fingers buried in her heat when all I wanted there was my throbbing dick. The way she tasted when she came against my mouth, screaming my name. The almost-painful throb of my cock as she pressed her wet pussy against it and started to slip it inside. Then, the pain and tightness in my chest, suffocating me while my mind spun out of control.
“I panicked.”
His brow furrows. “You panicked when she said ‘I love you?’”
“No,” I say, closing my eyes against the memory and shaking my head, “I panicked when she tried to have sex with me.”
I chance a glance at him. I can practically see the cogs of his brain spinning. “What? I don’t understand. You two have been together for like three or four months…”
The greatest months in my entire fucking life.
“Yeah, we have. We just haven’t been ‘together’ together.”
He drops back against his seat, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Is this because of the accident? Can you not…you know?”
I groan. “No, t
hat’s the fucking point. I have no problem getting hard when I’m with her, or when I am alone for that matter, but I haven’t been able to ‘seal the deal,’ so to speak. It has never been this bad though, the panicked feeling. Today, I completely lost my shit.”
“What did she say?”
Dropping my head back against the headrest, I stare at the ceiling of the car, wishing this morning was just a bad dream instead of a very real-life nightmare. “That’s when she told me she loved me, and I just laid there, and said nothing. It was like I was completely numb and mute, I couldn’t say anything.”
He sighs and turns off the car. “You know you need to get your shit figured out so you can fix this, right? Danika is fucking perfect for you. You belong together.”
“Like I don’t know that,” I snap, glaring at him.
“Hey, man, I’m your best friend. It’s my job to call it like I see it.”
“Yeah, well, right now, I need you to be my best friend who shuts his trap and helps me burn off all this crap I have built up right now, all right?”
He nods his agreement, shaking his head in disbelief shortly thereafter. “Hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked.” The door slams and he moves around the back of the car.
An ass-kicking sounds good right now.
“I deserve it.”
My phone rings just as I stumble into my apartment, grocery bags hanging off my arms. Who am I kidding? I might as well call them liquor bags, since all I bought was three bottles of Prosecco and two of Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey.
Thankfully, Caroline is on her way over. Otherwise, I might feel like an alcoholic.
I set the bags on the counter and scramble for my phone, digging in my purse until I find it. I groan when I see the caller ID.
Why did I give Skye my number?
Because Savage thought maybe there was a chance to smooth things over that has never come.
She’s the last person I want to talk to right now. Well, that’s not true. Savage probably is. How can I want to hear from him so badly, yet dread it so completely?