Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  Grazing a finger over my stomach, she glances up at me with a devilish look in her eyes.

  “Not long.” My voice cracks when her hand wanders lower. Pushing her hair off her shoulder, I run my fingers over the soft skin of her back.

  My need to be inside her is almost overwhelming, but I’ve vowed to let her lead the way, making her responsible for how far we go. Waking up each morning with her in my arms is amazing and absolute torture all rolled into one.

  “Spend the day with me?” I ask, reaching for her hand and bringing her fingertips to my lips.

  “Of course,” she agrees, then kisses my chest.

  I look down at her, my chest filled with more warmth than I know what to do with. This girl slays me. “I want to leave the apartment. Maybe head to the dog park, have lunch at the diner—you up for that?”

  “Sure,” she answers, and I don’t hear the annoyance in her voice that usually accompanies my requests to leave the apartment.

  “We need to get out of bed,” I tell her. “If I lay here much longer, I’ll never want to leave.”

  She nips the skin above my heart. “I like the idea of staying in bed all day. We can have a movie marathon, order pizza or something.”

  Groaning, I shift my weight from under her and sit on the edge of the bed. “Not the kind of marathon I’d want if I stayed in this bed all day.”

  “Hmmm,” she purrs, forcing me to look back at her.

  Man, is she beautiful—laid out on her back, perky breasts exposed, dusky-rose nipples puckered and begging for attention. I pull the sheet from her body and stare down at her. White panties against her milky skin make for one hell of a sight.

  Leaning forward, I take one nipple in my mouth, tugging at it with my teeth until she whimpers a soft moan.

  “You think you can tempt me with this gorgeous body of yours?”

  She nods arrogantly, and she’s right. My cock is throbbing, begging to keep going. But staying inside all the time isn’t healthy for her. She may very well be using her nakedness for just that reason, and I’m not playing into her tricks… but God, how I want to be inside her.

  “Get dressed,” I say with a soft peck to her lips before walking out of the room, a victorious grin on my face.

  “You seem happy today,” I say, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.

  Her eyes dart from my contact to around the busy diner.

  Satisfied no one is paying attention to us, she looks back at me. “I have hope for the first time in a long time.”

  “Hope for what, beautiful?”

  She shakes her head and looks back down at our hands. “That things are getting better. That I can miss him without swimming in grief. That I can move on without feeling guilty one hundred percent of the time.”

  “I hate that you feel it at all.” I swallow the thickness building in my throat. “You feel guilt over us… over me—what we’ve done?”

  “Sometimes,” she answers without a second of hesitation.

  I look out the window away from her, trying to focus on the people coming and going rather than the pain in my chest.

  She squeezes my hand, but I don’t have the ability to meet her eyes. I told her I didn’t want her to give him up completely, and I meant it. But the fact that she could regret us, what we’ve shared... I swallow hard and take a few calming breaths before turning my eyes back to hers. “You feel guilt or regret?”

  “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  I shake my head. “No, they’re not. Guilt is when you feel like you’ve done something intentionally to hurt someone you care for. Regret is unintentional, but your actions hurt someone and you wish you could change what you’ve done.”

  She stares out the same window I just pulled my eyes from. I mentioned her happy mood mere minutes ago and now it’s gone. I watch a lone tear roll down her cheek, and my heart constricts.

  “I can’t hurt him if he’s gone,” she says, looking back at me.

  I raise an eyebrow, urging her to understand what I’m trying to imply.

  “And I don’t regret a second I’ve spent in your arms.”

  I give her a weak smile.

  She sighs. “So, no guilt and no regret. I’m just sad then, I guess. My mother thinks I should be on antidepressants.”

  My face must change slightly at her admission because she narrows her eyes.

  “Do you think that, too?” she asks, her tone defensive and her face guarded.

  I shake my head. “I didn’t say anything, Liv. What do you think?”

  After taking a sip of water, her fingers trace the condensation on the outside of the glass. “Looking back, I think a few months ago my mother may have had a point. Now? I have more good days than bad.”

  I get up from the booth and join her on her side, pulling her against my chest and resting my chin on top of her head. “I’m glad you’re having good days.”

  “You’re like my light,” she whispers, and my heart blooms.

  “I’m not,” I counter. “You can do this all on your own.”

  “I don’t want to,” she says, looking up at me.

  “You don’t have to,” I say before kissing her on the lips.

  She doesn’t push me away or chastise me for the open display of affection. She just leans in closer and gives as good as she gets.

  “You’re my light too, beautiful.”

  “I’m glad we ate lunch first,” I say, pulling Olivia back against my chest.

  We’re back at the dog park, watching the different breeds run around and play.

  “Me, too,” she agrees. “It would’ve been way too cold and damp to sit on the ground first thing this morning.”

  “What about that one?” I ask, pointing to the tiny beagle puppy running after a bigger dog.

  “He’s adorable, but I still don’t want a dog. I struggle to take care of myself most days.”

  “You wouldn’t have to raise our fur baby on your own. I’d be there to help you.”

  She stiffens against me and I repress a sigh, wondering what part of our conversation is troubling her now. At the rate this day is going, I regret leaving the bed this morning. I know we have to work through all this stuff, but I didn’t intend to ruin our day.

  Turning her in my arms, I repeat the same thing I’ve told her a dozen times before. “I’m here, Olivia. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I watch her mouth open, already knowing what she’s going to say, and place a finger over her lips.

  “Don’t give me that tomorrow is never promised shit either.” She grins against my finger. “I don’t want to be worried about what tomorrow may bring, but at the same time, I don’t want you to be afraid to picture me in your future.”

  “I can’t plan a lifetime right now, Bryson. I did that once and losing that fairy tale nearly destroyed me.”

  “So, let’s not plan a lifetime. Let’s make short-term plans.”

  She grins at me. “What do you have in mind? I’m thinking some sexy shower time would be a great short-term goal.”

  “We can definitely do that.” I lean in and kiss her lips. “But I was thinking something a little further out. Like Thanksgiving break.”

  “What about it?” she asks, settling back against my chest.

  “Let’s get out of town. Spend a few days together alone.” I lean in closer to her ear. “Maybe plan for that bed marathon you wanted earlier.”

  She chuckles. “I was thinking Orange is the New Black or House of Cards.”

  I nip at her earlobe. “Maybe the bed marathon I was wanting then.”

  “If I didn’t know you any better, I’d think you were talking about sex,” she teases, a smile in her tone.

  “Bingo,” I say near her ear.

  “That makes no sense. You push me away more often than not. Was it bad for you the one time we did have sex?”

  I twirl her around so fast, her ponytail slaps me in the face. “It was amazing. Don’t ever think it wasn’t.”

&
nbsp; “But we haven’t done it again. Something about it turned you away.”

  I break eye contact with her. “The day after was one of the worst days in my life. The day after that was pretty fucked up too. I feel like I pushed you too far—like we went too far and you lashed out at me. I can’t handle too much more of that, so I figured we should take sex off the table.”

  She chuckles, straddling my lap and pushing me flat on the grass. “It was just a bad couple of days. That won’t happen again.”

  “You don’t know that,” I argue. “I’d rather have you like this, happy and a little horny, than satisfied sexually and hating me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” She leans in closer, her mouth brushing against my ear. “I’m way more than a little horny.”

  “We should head back to the apartment before we get arrested,” I groan as she rotates her hips, whimpering as she rubs herself against my straining erection. For a moment, I fight my own words, reveling in the heat of her body against mine. “Never mind.”

  Rolling over, I flip her onto her back. She bats at my chest with her hand and pushes me away. “Fine, back to the apartment.”

  41

  Olivia

  “Mmmm. You’re very attentive,” I purr as Bryson runs soapy hands all over my body.

  “You’re fucking irresistible,” he growls. “Every second I’m around you, I have to fight to keep my hands to myself.” He nips at my neck, keeping his hand busy on my stomach.

  I angle my head further to the side, giving him full access. His hands, his mouth, and the heated water pouring over our bodies is a spectacular way to wake up and get ready for the day. My body hums for him, but he’s the one who keeps pulling back. It’s been several days since we nearly ripped each other’s clothes off at the dog park, and that’s as far as it has gone. We’ve only made love one time, but my body craves him every second of the day.

  “I never mind your hands on me. Touch me as much as you want, but only if I get the same allowances.”

  I reach behind my back and stroke the erection he’s been taunting me with since we got up.

  “Deal,” he pants in my ear when I give him a hard squeeze.

  Skilled fingers wander lower, teasing my body in the most delicious way. His free hand skates around my hip and applies pressure to the center of my back. I bend at the waist, releasing him and placing my hands on the wall.

  “You’re perfect,” he says, running both hands down my back before gripping my hips. His hot and insanely hard shaft lies in the crease of my ass cheeks, so close, yet so far away from where I want him—where I need him.

  I shift my weight, praying he can take a hint.

  “This what you want?” he taunts, taking a half step back and striking my clit with the head.

  “Please.” I moan like a harlot when he slides inside.

  Banding an arm around my middle, he pulls me to standing, toying with my nipple as I arch my back toward him.

  I turn my head to meet his lips over my shoulder and whimper, my needy body less than patient for him to move. He’s static inside me, as if waiting for something, and I’m willing to give him anything he wants in this moment.

  “I’m bare,” he confides in my ear. “Tell me this is okay, Liv.”

  My body begins to tremble at the sensations flooding through me, but I squeeze my eyes shut, torn between what I want and the responsible thing to do.

  “I’m not on birth control,” I confess.

  A slight backward shift of his hips forces my internal muscles to clamp down, begging him to stay, refusing to release him.

  “I’ll pull out,” he promises with another shift of his hips.

  I push back, taking him fully inside, an unspoken permission I hope won’t come with dire consequences.

  With one hand toying with my peaked nipple and the other hand between my legs, striking at my clit, he sets a punishing rhythm. I grasp at his arms, holding on for dear life as fire runs through my veins, settling low in my stomach. This is the antithesis of the first time we made love. This is hard, fast, glorious fucking. As much as I cherished the first time and the emotional connection I needed in the moment, I love him this way, too.

  “You need to come, beautiful,” he pleads in my ear, pinching my clit between two fingers. He thrusts harder as my orgasm continues to build, and I detonate, trembling and convulsing around his rhythmic thrusts.

  He fucks me through it, prolonging my release until his grip has to tighten to support me.

  “Your mouth,” he breathes in my ear.

  I hiss when he pulls free, not wanting his cock to ever leave me. He urges me to turn around and lower with a slight pressure on my shoulders. The second my lips wrap around his engorged head, he comes, and I grip his thighs as he mindlessly drives into my mouth, coaxing his release.

  “Fuck,” he groans, taking a step back, having to reach for the wall to keep from falling.

  There’s nothing to clean. She swallowed every last drop.

  My back straightens at the memory and I rise to standing as Bryson reaches for me, leaning in to kiss me, but I turn my head at the last second, gloom settling over me.

  “Hey,” he says, applying gentle pressure on my chin so I have to look at him. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? I can dial it back next time… but I thought you enjoyed it.”

  “It’s nothing,” I lie.

  “Don’t do that. This is exactly what I was worried about.” He wraps his arms around my slick body, pulling me to his chest. “Don’t pull away from me. I’ll forgo sex if this is what’s going to happen every time.”

  “What we just did… it was the very same thing you did with Simone in this shower,” I say, feeling overwhelmed and defeated at the same time. “At least I swallowed every drop, too,” I continue, my voice as hollow as my stomach feels. “Less to clean up I suppose.” I shrug and rough hands on my upper arms pull me from his chest.

  “No,” he insists, his eyes meeting mine, his voice hard, determined. “I’ve never had sex without a condom before. And Simone may have sucked my dick in the shower, but it was your face I saw. It was your hands touching me. It was the only way I could come.”

  I nod my head, but I can’t meet his eyes. Isn’t that the line guys always feed women to make them feel better? I reach for the shampoo, wanting nothing more than to finish up and put distance between us, but his hand clasps mine, bringing my knuckles to his lips.

  “If I could take back everything I’ve ever done with other women, just to give you my firsts, I would.” His imploring eyes search mine for understanding. “Only you.”

  The tension in my shoulders eases as the thoughts paralyzing me only moments before drift away. This sweet, amazing man has given me no reason to doubt his words, his sincerity, yet I did. I’m broken in a lot of ways, but he just wants to fill all the gaps I’m unable to piece back together. I smile up at him, offering my lips for a kiss. His lips seal over mine and my heart flutters at the warmth, taste, and sensations flooding my body. It’s all him. Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead onto mine and smiles before nudging me to turn around. Moments later, his hands are in my hair, massaging my scalp, as he takes over the duty of washing and conditioning. Something he doesn’t have to do, but it makes me feel cherished, all the same.

  Clean and dried off, I leave the bathroom with a small smile on my face, only for it to fall when I find my mother walking down the hall to my room. Closing the door quickly, I clutch the towel tighter around me.

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” I do my best to not sound flustered, but I have no idea how long she’s been here or what she’s heard.

  “I haven’t heard from you in a few days. I was on my way to the store and thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to tag along, maybe grab some breakfast.” Her face is hopeful, no hint of the wariness I’d expect had she’d been here longer than a minute.

  “Ummm,” I begin, only to cringe when the bathroom door opens behind me.


  “I was thinking I’d have you for breakfast,” Bryson says, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my shoulder.

  My mother gasps, and I feel his head snap up as his body tenses behind me. Slowly opening my eyes, I expect to find disappointment and ire on her face. Instead, I see an amused grin and a sparkle in her eyes.

  “Mrs. Dawson,” Bryson says, wiping the water from his hand on my towel before offering it to her.

  A dash of relief fills me as I thank my lucky stars that I didn’t step away from the bathroom door. Bryson is stark naked behind me and the last thing I need is my mother seeing the goods to add to this embarrassing moment.

  “Bryson,” she says, shaking his proffered hand. A blush forms on her cheeks. “Well, it seems you have breakfast plans already.”

  I stand absolutely still, mortified by the mirth in my mother’s voice, only to be further embarrassed when Bryson chuckles behind me.

  “I can wait,” he tells her with a serious tone. Bending down, he whispers in my ear, “I still need a towel.”

  I jump, startled as the bathroom door clicks behind me. His words register and I remember the task I was on before my mother made an appearance.

  “I’m going to go,” Mom says, turning toward the front room.

  I stare after her, unsure of how to act or what to say. My parents have always been open about sex—I’m certain they assumed Duncan and I had taken that leap years ago—but I’ve never been in this kind of situation.

  “Mom,” I call after her.

  She looks over her shoulder, a grin on her face. “Enjoy your day, Olivia. Be safe.”

  I chuff a flustered laugh as the door closes behind her.

  “I’m going to change the damn locks,” I mutter to myself as I open the bathroom door to find Bryson leaning against the vanity, naked as the day he was born, arms crossed over his chest and a crooked smile on his face.

  “I can wait? Are you kidding me right now?” His smile grows before a chuckle escapes his lips. I slap his chest before walking back out. “Get your own damn towel.”

  Minutes later, we meet, both fully dressed in the kitchen.