I shiver as he lowers himself down once more, just long enough to slick his tongue over my asshole, my pussy, sucking my clit long and hard and releasing it with a yelp from my lips.
Then, he’s at my entrance, one hand holding my thigh as the other presses the tip of his cock inside me.
And he nails it home.
I gasp at the sensation, at the fullness of him inside me, at the forbidden juiciness of not having him for so long, of him somehow being off-limits and yet never anyone else’s but mine.
Jarrett groans when he withdraws and presses inside again, feeling every inch of me taking him in. “I hope you’re as ready as I am,” he breathes like he’s in pain. “Because I’m not going to last long.”
He slips out and back in, finding a rhythm — slow at first as he reaches down and strokes my clit with his thumb. He knows just how to circle, just where to apply the pressure so it builds my orgasm without hitting any too-sensitive spots.
It’s like fucking magic, how fast I build for him, how fast my heart races and blood pumps right where I need it.
“Come on,” is all he says, and as if that invitation was what I was waiting for, I explode, holding onto my feet even tighter and spreading my legs wide enough to know I’ll be sore in the morning. My glutes clench as I ride the wave, reaching for more, begging for the orgasm not to recede too early.
Jarrett takes my moans as permission to find his own release, and I’m glad Erin is with Bear tonight when he comes, because his screams are as loud as mine, the deep baritone of his voice rumbling off the walls like a fucking lion’s roar.
I don’t have time to come down, to pant, to wrap my slick body around him and laugh at how fast we both came. As soon as he finishes, Jarrett pulls out, disposes of the condom in the trashcan by my bed, and rolls another one back on in its place.
I gape at the sight, and he just arches a brow, smirking at my dumbfounded expression.
“I know you didn’t think one round would be enough,” he says, shaking his head before descending on me like a predator. “It’s been too long since I’ve touched you, kissed you,” he says, pressing his lips to mine before he whispers, “fucked you. I’m nowhere near satiated.”
My body heats to life again at his words, at how much this man desires me, how badly he craves my body. And with another bruising kiss and lust-drunk moan, Jarrett flips me, pulling me into his lap.
He grabs my hips and guides me down, my sore, wet pussy opening for him once again.
Round two.
Ding ding.
A THOUSAND BEAR HUGS wouldn’t be enough.
I never thought I’d say the words, never thought there was anything a hug from my best friend couldn’t fix. But even lying on his couch, my feet in his lap and a fetus-sized burrito in my belly, even with a half-bottle of wine swimming in my system, even with an entire evening of talking and laughing, and even with the dozens of hugs I’ve stolen tonight — I’m still on the verge of tears.
I’ve been feeling it for months, the constant knot in my throat, the pain and aching in my chest. Like at any moment, at any time, I could just burst into tears and then into flames.
Unstable.
Unsettled.
Unknown.
I’ve been keeping my shit together in front of everyone, working hard in my last semester as president of KKB, acing my classes as I prepare for graduation, being there for Ashlei through her injury, supporting Cassie in her long-distance relationship, and Jess in her difficult decision she knows she has to make soon. I’ve cheered Erin on in her case against the guys who violated her, and called home to check in on Mom and Dad, to promise them I’d be home for the holidays before going wherever post-graduation would take me.
I’m graduating.
The realization always makes those tears I’ve been holding at bay build a little stronger.
Because I’ve dreamed about this for so long, but I never dreamed I’d feel so fucking lost when the time actually came.
“You know,” Bear says, rubbing my arches with his eyes still on the TV. “You could call him.”
“And say what?”
He shrugs. “Whatever you’re feeling.”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I say on a sigh. “That’s the problem.”
“You know exactly what you’re feeling,” Bear argues. He finally looks at me then. “You’re sad. You miss him. You love him. You’re hurt by what he did. You don’t know if you can forgive him.”
“Exactly,” I say, pointing at his chest when he says that last part. “So, if I don’t know if I can forgive him and move forward, why would I call him? What would it change?” I look at my chipped nail polish where I balance the half-empty wine glass in my hand. “Besides, he’s apologized, yes, but… he doesn’t even understand why he has to apologize.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“He doesn’t see Natalia the way I do. And he feels like I should be understanding with the show, with his career. And I am it’s just…”
“It’s just that you want to know where you stand in his life,” Bear finishes for me. “If you’re less important than his career, on the same level, or more.”
My stomach cramps. “Yes,” I whisper.
We’re quiet for a while, me sipping my wine while Bear pretends to watch the TV. I know he’s just giving me space to process, to think.
“Maybe I am being too hard on him,” I confess. “Maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as I’m making it.”
“Don’t do that,” Bear says. “Don’t make yourself feel crazy. I would have been upset, if it were me.”
“You would have killed her,” I said with a smirk at my best friend. “You would have grabbed her wet hair and slammed her head against the tile.”
“Jesus, Sky,” he says with a frown. “That’s so violent.” A pause, and then a tilt of his head. “But, not entirely far-fetched.”
I chuckle. “I’m just saying, maybe his apology was more sincere than I’m giving him credit for. Maybe it’s me being dramatic.”
“You? Never.”
I roll my eyes, but then my nails are tapping against the wine glass, and I suddenly shoot up to set it down and reach for Bear’s phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m pulling up his Instagram.”
Bear’s eyes widen, and he snatches his phone out of my hand before I can even unlock it. “Um, first of all, why do you need my phone to do that?”
“Because I blocked him,” I say with a shrug. “I had to. It made me physically ill every time he liked one of my photos, or any time I saw him post something.”
Bear sighs. “Yeah. It would make me sick, too… which leads me to my second point of caution — I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I just want to see what he’s been up to. You were right,” I confess. “I do miss him. And maybe this will help push me over the edge, help me get the lady balls to just call him.”
Bear’s mouth pulls to the side.
“Please.”
He sighs, handing me his phone before kicking back on the couch again. “I still feel like this is a bad idea.”
“Noted,” I say, but I’m already typing Kip Jackson into the search bar on the app. He and Bear are friends, so Kip’s profile pops up before I even finish typing the full name, and my heart squeezes at the sight of that familiar smile, those ocean blue eyes framed by thick black glasses.
I tap the little circle.
And then I freeze when I see the most recent post.
For a moment, my thumb just hovers over it. I don’t want to see it blown up to full-screen. I can tell just from the small thumbnail what it is.
Kip, dressed to the nines, full suit and bow tie and dress shoes and a watch I bought him in Vegas.
And Natalia, in a short, silver, slinky dress with thin straps.
He has his arm around her waist, and she has hers around his, and when the picture was snapped, he was smiling at the camera.
> She was smiling up at him.
I nearly vomit when I finally tap it and pull it full size — especially when I see all the likes and comments underneath it. The caption reads That’s a wrap on editing! Can’t wait to bring Black Number Four to your laptop screens and home TVs, and for you all to see this amazing girl in action.
The comments range from congratulations! and can’t wait! to cute couple! and wow, you’re both glowing!
The more I scroll, the more those tears I’ve been holding back threaten to break loose. I feel them blurring my vision, feel them tightening my throat, feel them suffocating me and demanding to be felt.
“Sky…” Bear says, leaning up to look at the screen with me. When he sees it, he mutters, “shit,” and takes the phone from me, tossing it on the coffee table.
I look at him.
And then I break.
Covering my face with my hands, I do my best to breathe through the terrible sobs that wash over me like a thunderous, relentless wave. Bear pulls me into his chest and holds me close, whispering that it will be okay.
But I know it won’t.
When we had our fight, I was angry. I was pissed off. I was so fucking hurt that I couldn’t see him. Over the summer, I needed that space. And even when he left to go back to California, I was still upset, but I think…
I think deep down, through all that, I just always assumed it was a phase.
I always assumed it was just a fight, just a summer apart, just something we would have to work through.
I thought we’d make it through.
The realization that I was wrong strikes me like a fist to the gut, and I double over, surrendering to another massive attack of painful cries.
He’s having the time of his life while my life falls apart.
And somehow, I can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault.
“SHIT!” I CURSE AS the contents carefully balanced on the top shelf of my closet tumble out and rain down on me, a shower of shoes and yoga equipment and long-forgotten hobbies.
Erin runs over from her room, makeup half-done and hair pinned back. “What was that? Are you okay?”
I grunt, looking at the mess on the floor. But spotting what I was looking for, I swipe it off the ground and plop onto my unmade bed. “Just peachy.”
Erin offers a soft smile at that, her shoulders deflating a little. She strolls over to me and sits on the edge of the bed. “Is this your favorite pair of shoes or something?” she asks, tapping the lid of the old shoebox in front of me.
“It’s my own personal form of torture that I like to succumb myself to from time to time.”
Erin cocks a brow.
I sigh. “It’s a memory box,” I explain, flipping the lid off to reveal the contents inside. “Mostly of Jarrett. And then…”
“Kade,” Erin finishes for me, fishing out a picture of us from that first formal we attended together.
“Yep.”
Erin smiles at the picture, setting it aside before holding up a greasy pizza napkin. She wrinkles her nose. “Pictures, I understand. But this?”
“They’re memories,” I defend, swiping the napkin from her. I smile at the nasty thing. “This was from when Jarrett flew in to visit from New York. We had amazing sex when he first landed, and then knew we weren’t leaving the room. So, I ordered pizza, and we stayed in.” I bit my lip. “All. Night. Long.”
“Okay,” Erin says, holding up her hands and standing. “I think this memory box is a personal experience.”
I chuckle. “You off to class?”
“Leaving in ten. Are you going to work?”
I shake my head. “We had three weddings this weekend — Friday, Saturday, and last night, so we all have today off to recover.”
Erin nods. “I’ll be back tonight. If you want to talk,” she adds, her eyes falling to the box before they land on me again.
“You sure you’re up for that crazy ride of me talking through my feelings right now?”
“Always.”
She blows me a kiss, and then she’s out the door, and I settle back into memory lane.
The last week has been a whirlwind.
After Jarrett left — which wasn’t until very, very late the morning after Halloween — I nearly had a breakdown. All the memories of us had come rushing back, completely washing over the foundation I’d just rebuilt and fortified with Kade.
I thought after the karaoke event that I knew. I thought I would just call Jarrett up and tell him that while I did care about him, I couldn’t see him.
But then stupid me had to see him.
And stupid me remembered why I’d loved him so fiercely, why he’d broken me so completely, why even when I tried — I could never forget him.
I pull a thin, lacy, hot pink bra out of the box, smirking when I remember Kade’s face the time I wore it for him, the time I punished him for being a jerk to me over the summer, for blowing off the plan he had made for us. That was the closest I’d ever been to a Dom, and I loved it.
And God, I love him.
I love that he rose to every challenge I gave him, love that he wanted to learn, that he wanted to please me, that he wanted to be my every sexual desire. I love that it quickly became so much more than that, that he snuck into my heart and made me fall for him without so much as trying.
I love how effortless we are, tried and true.
A team.
My eyes catch on a box of matches with Ralph’s in script on the front, and I pull them from the box, smiling again. I snatched them from the supply closet that night Jarrett railed me on Halloween, reminding me that playing the games of flaunting college boys in front of him wouldn’t work.
And I love him, too.
I love how just one look from him can strip me utterly naked, how he knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I love that he’s not afraid to push my buttons, that he calls me on my bullshit, and that he fucks me like a goddamn pro.
I love that toxic, completely addicted feeling of losing him and winning him back.
The most beautiful mess.
I close my eyes, sighing before I pull out more items, one by one, each little menu or picture or scrap of clothing or stolen tchotchke another memory pulling me this way or that.
It’s a vicious tug of war, one where no one wins.
My phone buzzes in the sheets next to me, and I hitch a breath at the sight of Kade’s name.
Can I see you?
I sigh, shaking my head and typing back a response before I can think on it more.
Not today.
Erin calls out a goodbye from down the hall, and then the condo door opens and shuts, and I’m alone.
Another ping of my phone.
Were you with him on Halloween?
Him. He doesn’t even have to say who for me to know.
I didn’t post anything on the holiday, not a single picture, which is unlike me — since everyone knows I love my costumes. I’m sure he put two and two together that I wasn’t with Erin and Bear, nor was I with Ashlei — who posted a sad, albeit cute, picture of her dressed as a mummy on the couch with Brandon — and I certainly wasn’t with Skyler and Cassie at Ralph’s wooing Cassie’s soon-to-be Little.
And still, I can’t bring myself to answer him.
Suddenly, my phone rings, and I jolt, thinking it’s Kade. But it’s Herb at the front desk, and I answer surprised, “Herb?”
“Good morning, Miss Vonnegut. You have a visitor.”
I swallow. Maybe Kade isn’t taking my non-answer as an answer. “May I ask who?”
“The young man who picked you up for Halloween, Miss.”
My heart jolts again, but this time, in a traitorous, excited way.
“Send him up, please.”
I jump off the bed as soon as we end the call, fussing with my hair a bit and changing out of my giant sweatpants into a small, cute pair of sleep shorts. I’m wearing a tank top without a bra, and decide I shouldn’t bother putting one on.
; When I see the box and its contents on my bed, I curse, gathering everything and shoving it back inside before kicking the whole box under my bed. I close my closet door to hide that mess, too, and then scuttle down the hall.
My phone buzzes as I do.
Kade.
You’re killing me, Jess.
When I open the door and see Jarrett smirking, holding two coffees in a carrier and a bag of what I assume are donuts from one of the best places downtown, my heart cracks.
“I’m on my way to the office,” he explains, a beautiful smirk on that beautiful face of his. “But I had to see you first.”
I bite my lip against the smile I feel building, opening the door more for him to come inside.
My phone feels like a bomb in my hand.
I read Kade’s text again, and then I type back the most honest thing I can.
I’m killing me, too.
Before he can respond, I toss my phone on the kitchen counter face down, following Jarrett inside. I lead him back to my bedroom, snatching the bag of donuts from his hands.
“Mmmm,” I say, inhaling the intoxicating scent as I pull out the first one. “Blueberry cake. How did you remember my favorite?”
“Come on, like I could ever forget. You ate five in one sitting the first time we went.”
I laugh around the mouthful I’ve already started chewing on. “Hey, I never said I was a lady.”
“I never said I wanted you to be one.”
Jarrett takes a bite off the other end of the donut, and I swat away his victorious smile when he takes half the thing with him.
When we’re done chewing, Jarrett sits on my bed, patting the seat next to him until I do, too.
“I feel like we didn’t get to talk much,” he says with a wry smile. “On Halloween, that is.”
My cheeks heat. “I don’t think either one of us had an issue with that.”
“At the time, no,” he agrees. “But… I don’t want you to think that’s all I want. That that’s all you are to me.”
I frown. “I didn’t. But now…”
Jarrett laughs under his breath, opening his arm and pulling me under it. His lips press against my temple, and I melt at the touch, at how soft and sweet it is, at how good and lovely and right it feels when his hand rests on my waist.
Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7) Page 13