“Are you?” he asks.
“Yes!”
“Birth control?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” I throw my head back and shoot a look at him. “Just fuck me already, James!”
He growls, fisting a hand through my hair. He runs his other hand along my spine. “Feet on the floor,” he says. I position myself half-straddling the counter. He pushes my head so my cheek is pressing against the hard counter.
He kisses my back and then, in one swift thrust, penetrates me.
I cry out as we start fucking. His cock pulses in and out, stretching me, filling me, leaving me feeling exquisitely alive. He presses a hand into my lower back. I’m exposed, vulnerable, and open for him. He powers on and on.
The sound of our bodies coming together is music to my ears. I start to gasp, then moan, then give shuttered cries as he rages on behind me. The only sounds he’s making are those intense growls, the grunts, the animalistic noises of a virile male.
I succumb to him entirely.
He pulls on my hair, making it feel like it’s going to tear at the roots. I drink up the pain, let it swirl and mix with my own pleasure. Every rough entrance sends ecstasy shooting through my body.
My gasps become little scream as he edges me on. I’m not holding anything back, nor am I faking. James grabs my hips for better control. My hands grip the far edge of the counter. I close my eyes and arch my back and moan his name.
“James, James, oh James!”
Then the release comes. I cry out in earnest as it hits me. The orgasm rushes through my synapses; I shake and quiver and moan. Every last nerve is set afire, and I come with such scorching intensity it’s hard to believe it’s real.
But it’s all very real. It becomes more real when James pulls out and explodes all over my smooth, heated back. I slump my head. He drops forward, onto me, exhausted and spent.
He kisses my neck. He brushes my hair aside and gently eases his teeth into my shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a mark.
“Something to remember me by,” he whispers, then kisses the spot.
Then he takes me by the chin, turns my head toward him and presses his lips to mine one more time.
34.
I leave James’ apartment feeling light, elated, and absolutely at peace with the world.
Nothing can touch me now. My good mood lasts the entire day. Even though I missed my first class, the remaining are spectacular. I’m engaged and focused. My mind is sharp. I find all the material absolutely fascinating. Even the stuff I thought was boring last week seems infused with new life.
It’s probably not the classes that are any different, but a certain, wonderful man who’s changed my whole perspective on things.
I stop short on that thought. A man, I think. Not sex.
The thought would have terrified me once.
But now… it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because I’m still riding the high from this morning. Maybe it’s because shit with Summer already hit the fan.
Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’ve accepted that my rules stand no chance against James.
And that new freedom feels fantastic.
I skip from class to class, chatting to some girls I’ve seen around before but never properly introduced myself to. Before, having Summer at my side was almost like a safety net. I didn’t feel the need to expand my social circle.
Now, it just happens naturally. Effortlessly.
It’s been, what, a few weeks with James? And already, I’m this close to falling.
Even that thought doesn’t frighten me. Nothing can spoil my good mood. I rub my shoulder, which I’m sure still carries an imprint of James’s perfect teeth.
I smile to myself. I feel loopy over a man, and I’m not fighting it. I’m not fighting it!
I put on Arno Cost’s remix of Moby’s Lie Down in Darkness, smile wide, and all-but-hop down the sunlit path toward my final class for the day.
***
When lecture lets out, I realized I haven’t seen Summer yet. Not that I was particularly looking out for her—if she showed up, I wanted to appear blissfully content in my own little bubble.
But she didn’t. Is she avoiding me now? Maybe.
It all makes for a whole bunch of awkwardness. But with James, with my new lover in the picture, I don’t give two shits.
Besides, Summer won’t even talk to me. I’ve been checking my phone obsessively. She hasn’t texted or called.
Well, I’ve extended the proverbial olive branch. If she wants to deal with it by ignoring me, that’s her prerogative.
But when I check the time, some of my good mood drains away. Class is over. I have to go home.
The looming confrontation with Summer? I am so not looking forward to it.
So as I get closer and closer to our apartment, apprehension builds inside. I hope she took down the barricade. If she didn’t…? Well, whatever. I have enough time this evening to make a go of tearing it down.
I shake my head. When did things become so… juvenile?
I climb the stairs to our floor.
The hallway is empty. Everything is quite. Too quiet, in fact. Too calm.
I take a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” I mutter, stopping in front of my door. I take my key out and stick it in.
It doesn’t fit.
“What the hell…?” I jiggle it around, but it’s not going in. I pull back to make sure I’m not holding it upside down.
I’m not. It just doesn’t fit.
I double check the apartment number to make sure I’m at the right door.
I am. The key’s just not working. “What the fuck?”
Then I notice the new metal sheen of the doorknob.
“Oh… my fucking God,” I say.
Summer’s changed the lock!
I pound on the painted green wood. “Summer!” I scream. “Summer, I know you’re in there! Let me in! I live there too!”
I wait for her response, even if I don’t expect one. I grind my teeth. My good mood has been utterly extinguished.
I slam my hand against the door. “Summer! Holy fuck, Summer, open this door! It’s my apartment just as much as it is yours!”
There’s no answer.
I groan. Holy shit, I did not expect her to go this far.
“Summer, you can’t just—you can’t just lock me out like this!” I scream. “What about my stuff? Are you going to keep it all locked up, too? I need my fucking books to study!”
I realize I’m yelling loud enough to attract the attention of everybody on this floor. I also have no idea if I’m talking to thin air. Summer is not necessarily inside.
I debate going up to the building manager. This type of behavior is definitely against rental policy. She could get us both kicked out.
I can’t believe Summer had the gall to call somebody here to change the lock! What if I had showed up while it was happening? How awkward would that be?
Not much more awkward than what’s already happened, I think sourly.
I take out my phone and dial her number. Not surprisingly, it goes to voicemail.
I hang up with a grunt. Why bother leaving a message if she’s just going to erase it?
I text her instead:
Me: We need to talk NOW!
Then, not knowing what else to do, I walk outside and call James.
***
He doesn’t answer the first time but quickly texts me back to tell me he’s teaching. Is it urgent? He asks. I tell him no. I can wait.
I glance up and count the windows until I find the one to Summer’s room. I half-expected her to be staring down at me, but nope, it’s empty.
That’s the window she saw the Porsche from, I think. That’s when all of this began.
I click my tongue in irritation and walk away. Sadness almost took hold of me, looking up at that window, but I kept it at bay. I hate sadness. Sadness should be reserved for serious things, and even then only doled out in small doses. Nobody s
ays that happiness kills.
But despair can be lethal.
That’s why I don’t dwell on my own fragility. I’d rather spend my ever-shortening moments feeling good and happy than sad and miserable.
But, if I lose Summer over this… then there’ll be room for sadness. Even if our friendship’s not very deep, we were close once. I would feel the loss.
But I really, really, truly think she’s being histrionic for effect. For the shock value. She’s always been a little drama queen.
I think this is her way of trying to make me feel really bad. It won’t work, of course, because I’ve had more serious things going on in the background for years. Still, the agitation comes from being frustrated that she would resort to such playground tactics.
I’m sure it’ll all blow over in a week. There has to come a point when she starts to feel a little foolish for her actions. When that comes? I’ll forgive her. Perhaps not readily, but fairly quickly, because I am not one to hold a grudge.
My phone rings. It’s James.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi. I stepped out to take your call. Where are you, what’s going on?”
I decide on the spot to be completely upfront with him. I need at least one person on my side until Summer comes to her senses.
“Summer changed the locks,” I explain. “I’m out of a place to stay.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “No kidding?”
“Nope,” I tell him. “So I’ve got no way to get my stuff, and no place to go.”
“The fuck you don’t,” he growls, possessiveness flaring in his voice. “You’re staying with me. No question.”
“Oh, but I can’t take you up on that,” I say playfully, trying—but failing—to bite down the smile that comes from his declaration. “We had sex this morning as lovers. You expect certain things from that past the physical. You said so yourself.”
“So…?” James’s voice deepens.
“I can’t give you that,” I say. “Which would mean that my invitation’s void.”
“Like hell it is,” he growls. Again, the determined, aggressive conviction has my stomach tying itself into knots. “We can discuss the arrangement later, Celeste. But for now, all I know is that you’re staying with me. I’m not having you wander around like some vagabond. Where are you?”
“Wandering around,” I tease him. “Like a vagabond. Angling toward your apartment.”
“Do you know the way?”
“I’m sure I can find it.”
“Good. I’d pick you up but I have to get back to session. I’ll let the doorman know you’re coming. He’ll let you in. What about clothes?”
“What about them?”
“You don’t have any except what’s on your back.”
“I’ll sort it out with Summer,” I fib. “Somehow. Don’t worry about that.”
“Angela left some old things at my place. I never got around to throwing them out. See if any fit. I’m sure some will. If not, I’ll take you shopping—“
“No,” I cut him off. “I am not taking your money.”
“Celeste…”
“No! That’s a deal breaker for me, James. If you bring it up again you’ll never see me.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “We’ll talk when I get back. I’ll see you there.”
“Bye.”
He hangs up. I look at my phone in wonder.
Did that really just happen?
35.
Getting to James’s apartment is no hassle. It’s going through his ex’s mountain of clothes that is intimidating.
For one, I’ve never held such rich fabrics in my hand. These are all designer brand. Stuff like this comes from the high-end department stores. Just handling them, I feel out of place. I never had much money. And these are the “old” clothes? Christ!
For two, nothing looks like it would fit. The woman is obviously taller than me. But she’s thinner, too, and has considerably more bust.
That eliminates ninety percent of things.
Still, I manage to find an old pair of jeans that I manage to squeeze on. They’re unlabeled. I bet they’re from before James struck it rich.
There are one or two sweaters that aren’t completely gaudy, too. I can totally put them on while lounging around the penthouse.
I catch myself. No, I scold. There will be no lounging. You’re only staying for as long as it takes Summer to come to her senses, and no more.
I check my phone for messages from her. Nothing. Radio-fucking-silence.
I wonder how long it’s possible to hold a grudge.
I sigh. Today’s only day two. We’re probably at the very start.
James arrives sometime after eight. I’m curled up on the couch with the lights out, reading my Kindle. He surprises me by sneaking up behind my back, appearing from nowhere, and kissing me hard and fast.
My heart is thundering when he lets go.
I’ve never been surprise-kissed like that before.
“Hi,” he murmurs, his face just inches from mine.
“Hi,” I whisper back. All sorts of warm and tingly feelings come to life inside of me.
His eyes go to the screen. “Good book? I thought for sure you would have heard me. But you were pretty engrossed.”
I flush a violent red and scamper to switch it off. “It’s okay,” I mumble, but the truth is he caught me right in the middle of a scorching hot sex scene. My cheeks burn.
Of course, that could also be from the electrifying kiss we just shared.
James gives me a knowing look and a smile that tells me all I need to know. He saw the words “pussy,” “cock,” and “cunt” on the screen.
He jumps the couch and lands beside me. He puts his arm around my shoulder.
I don’t shrug him off.
“Hmm, you’re tense,” he murmurs. He starts kneading the tired muscles of my neck and back. “Turn away from me. Let me give you a massage.”
“K,” I say.
I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are most definitely hard in the cool evening air. I close my eyes and let my head drop as he works at the knots.
He’s a magician with his hands. It’s not an erotic massage. But he still knows how to touch just so. My muscles turn to jelly beneath his fingers. I think I moan.
“Lie forward,” he says softly. “Let me work on all of you.”
Slowly, I lower myself on the cushion. His hands roam down to my hips, then glide over my arms. He massages my thighs, then goes lower to brush his fingers over my calves.
I sigh into the seat. Feeling so very much content in this moment, I close my eyes and let his hands explore my body.
He touches me like I’ve never been touched before. Like I’ve never let anybody touch me before.
Like I never knew I needed to be touched before.
“Roll over,” James whispers.
I look at him over my shoulder and see those stunning, shining eyes. I smile dreamily and do as he says.
He runs his hands over my shoulders then down over my breasts. He starts kneading them.
“These need particular care,” he tells me.
“Mhmm,” I purr. “They are very, very tender.”
James makes an aroused sound from deep in his throat.
I give him a silly smile. Then, I reach over and place a hand on his cock. I rub him, feeling his arousal grow hand and thick under his pants.
His hands fall away as he exhales a shuddery, tense breath.
I bite my lip and flip over again. I crawl to his lap, place my face between his legs, and start to stroke him through the fabric.
He groans.
“Do you like that?” I ask him. I look up through long lashes and bat my eyes. “Do you want me to taste you?”
“God, Celeste,” he exhales.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I tell him, and slip his pants down.
His cocks springs free. Reverently, I brush my fingers over it. I grip him by the base, then pull him toward me,
loving the way his hard erection resists the movement. I part my lips, poke my tongue out just a little. I flick the tip of his dick. He shudders.
Then, I push myself up and take his entire length into my mouth. My tongue traces the ridges and runs over the veins as I pull my head back. I lick up one side, then the other, covering him in my saliva.
Above me, James watches like a man caught in rapture.
I start to stroke him and bob my head. He grows in my hand. I stroke fast, squeezing him hard. His hips start to pulse. He brings my hair back over my head so he can see my face. I look up at him and suck, suck, suck, loving the adoration reflected in his eyes.
“Fuck, Celeste, don’t stop. Never stop. That feels so—ahh,” he moans, as I take his full cock in my mouth again. “So—so fucking good.”
I love the encouragement, love his husky, scratchy voice. It turns me on to hear him so turned on.
I suck harder, stroke faster, pushing him toward his release.
“Celeste,” he gasps. “Celeste, I’m going to come.”
“All over my face,” I tell him, sliding my fist up and down in double time. “I want your cum all over me. Soak me, James!”
And right there, he explodes. His cum scorches me. Some girls would hate that feeling, but I absolutely fucking love it. Because I know how much it turns him on. Because I know how erotic it is.
“Shit, Celeste,” he says. I look at him and see his glazed-over eyes. “That was… that was…” he drops his head back and stares upward. “There are no words.”
“That was my thank you for letting me stay,” I tell him. I scoop the cum up in my fingers. “And this,” I say, putting my fingers one-by-one in my mouth and sucking them dry, “is so you know that I’m not your guest, but your lover.”
36.
No amount of coffee can counter my grogginess the next day.
We had sex all night. Only when the sun came up did we finally close our eyes, and that was only for an hour or two.
But even if I am tired, everything I do feels like it’s part of a dream. James made me feel so good.
From S to J, I think slyly. It’s a trade-off I wouldn’t have made a week ago, but one that I absolutely adore now.
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 136