“Oh honey,” I said, letting each of my words drip with honey. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Then show me.”
Oh, was he getting cocky now? Time for me to do the same.
I gripped him once more, working him over with first one hand then the other. His fingers dug into the ceiling, trying not to tear it but also trying not find some sort of solace from the harsh rule I had him under. I could smell him so deeply it was practically a taste, and when I flicked a finger over his weeping tip again, he shuddered from head to toe.
I could feel him fighting against everything in his body, trying to obey me. It built up, harder and harder like the pressure inside of a bottle of soda shaken too hard. Eventually it had to be let out.
So, I let go and gripped his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a heated, toothsome kiss. “You can move freely,” I said once we parted.
The switch was so instantaneous it made my head spin. One moment he was below me, my thighs pinned on either side of him, the next he was surging forward, then I was flipped around and physically moved to the side, my hands and knees posted on the cushion of the bench seat.
“Wha-”
“Shhh.” Was all I heard behind me before he tore my underwear in half.
“Holy shit!” I cried, the sound of tearing startling me at first but then making me burn hotter than I ever had. Like some sort of caveman, he’d just ripped my clothes off of me. I didn’t know if I’d ever heard anything so damn sexy.
“I’m going to fuck you, just like this.”
The dominance in his voice made my breath hitch and I stilled. Strong fingers wrapped in my hair, pushing me down at the same time my hips were being raised up. Just as my cheek was pressed into the fabric of the seat, I felt him prodding against my entrance where I was already slick and ready.
“Please,” I begged breathlessly. As much fun as it had been teasing him, being at the reins, I desperately wanted to enjoy my comeuppance. “Please, I need you.”
“Don’t worry,” he practically growled, his voice was so base. “I’ll take care of you.”
Oh God, he really was going to, wasn’t he?
And then he was inside of me with one powerful thrust. I gasped, my whole body locking up with the sensation. It was too raw, too wonderful. I went from achingly empty to stuffed full and it excited me in a way I didn’t think were possible.
“God, Mickey!” I cried, not paying attention to how loud I was being.
And yet it didn’t seem to be enough. “Louder.” He ordered, his hands digging into my hips, pulling me to slam back into him before pushing me away. “I want to hear you let go. Of everything. Don’t hold back, do you understand?”
I tried to answer him with actual English, but all that came out was a plaintive sort of whine. Thankfully, he seemed to understand that I was trying to agree and kept on pounding into me, sending shocks of pleasure through my entire frame.
It was wild and frantic and everything I needed. I wanted the sweat, I wanted the pain. I wanted all of him in the moment and for the rest of time. I didn’t know what was going on with me. While I had always been a bit tenacious in bed, it’d never been like this. So unbridled and full of heat. But that’s exactly what I needed from him. Mickey was so strong, full of all this power that could bring his opponents to his knees. I wanted him to pour all of that into me like my body was made for it.
Because it felt like it was. From my broad hips to the soft swell of my stomach, I couldn’t help but feel like I was specifically engineered to take him like no one else could. He didn’t have to hold back with me; I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to pound into me without restraint, his fingers to bite into all the soft parts of me until I had little bruises to treasure for the next few days. I wanted everything.
Suddenly I was being physically lifted up and pushed forward until my naked breasts were pressed against the cold window. If we weren’t in the darkest part of the parking lot and it wasn’t so late, I knew that anybody walking by would be able to see me. That thought combined with the physical sensation of it made me gasp and a lick of pleasure shot through my whole body.
I cried out, but Mickey’s teeth just found my neck to kiss and worry at my skin as he drove mercilessly into me. He didn’t slow. If anything, his thrusts grew harder, faster, and I could only whine my appreciation.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I heard him breathe harshly behind me, every word punctuated by its own thrust that went so deep into me I thought I might be able to taste him. “You feel…” he drew in a breath as if he was searching for the right word, but it never came. Instead he groaned into my back, the sound sending chills rippling through me once again.
Euphoria rocked my brain and all I could do was hold on and ride it out. That base side of me, the unevolved, primitive instincts that seemed to lurk within everyone, was loving each second of it, reveling in the passion, heat and lust.
We went on for what seemed like hours, but probably was no more than ten minutes. Our bodies both grew slick with sweat and other fluids were dripping onto the seat. It seemed that new car smell that I’d noticed when I’d first climbed in was not going to survive the night.
“Mickey, oh god Mickey, I’m close.” I gasped, leaning back to push against his muscled chest. He was too perfect, too delicious, I wanted to feel as much of him as possible.
He reached around me, his calloused fingers walking down my hip bone, then to my center and then finally finding that sensitive bundle of nerves hidden between my lower lips.
I wasn’t sure the sound that punched out of my mouth as he manipulated that point, but it was purely primal. As soon as it escaped my throat, I went toppling over my edge into a pool of undiluted white.
It was strange to be doused in pleasure so virulent that it was almost excruciatingly painful, but that was exactly what was happening to me. My brain shut off for a moment, leaving me floating in some sort of semi-existence, and then I crashed back into my own body gasping and shaking.
Now that I had reached my end, Mickey held nothing back. I could feel my hips bruising in his crushing grip, but I loved it. He only lasted a minute, or maybe two, before he too was spilling into me without restraint.
We huddled there a moment, both panting and heaving, slick with the efforts of our coupling. I remembered reading once that maintaining pleasant skin contact with someone else caused oxytocin to be released into the blood system. I wasn’t sure if that was still the case considering that I had the thick chemical cocktail of my orgasm still rushing inside of me, but it felt kind of like it did.
I had to admit, however, that this was the best idea I’d had in a long while.
Eventually, however, he slipped out of me, drawing displeased noises from both of us. He pulled away from me for a moment, and I twisted to see what he was doing, only to see him reach for that lever again.
He found it and the seat reclined further until it was flat. Now that I could get behind. I let myself fall to the side, thoroughly spent, and Mickey laid back as well.
“Thank you,” I couldn’t help but murmur as he pulled me into his side. He was so big, so warm. I loved it. He felt like shelter. Was that a weird thing to think? Probably, but I was too high off my orgasm to really care.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he rumbled, the slightest of chuckles to the phrase.
I let myself curl into him, let his hands place me how he wanted. “I assure you; it absolutely wasn’t all yours. I had my fair share.”
“I doubt it,” he countered. “If you had your fair share, I would have had you cum twice before I got mine.” He rolled to look at me, his intense gaze even more acute than ever. “But you make me want to be so fucking…” he took a deep breath and that look almost grew burning, “selfish.”
Oh.
Holy shit.
The way he was looking at me was too much, too deep. I felt it blaze through me, bringing up feelings that weren’t appropriate to feel for a friend.
“I…” I whispered, feeling like my whole might was caught up in everything that was him.
“Yeah?”
“I need to go,” I finished, sitting up and frantically scrambling to find my clothes. I managed to get my bra back on and my shirt, but the leggings were going to require me to at least get my legs out of the car.
Mickey watched me, clearly surprised by my sudden turnabout, but he didn’t say anything until I opened my door.
He caught my wrist and I turned towards him, eyes wide and heart thundering.
“What’s going on?” he asked. If I didn’t know better, I would think that he was hurt.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. I should go.”
He didn’t release me, however, just licking his lips as his brows furrowed. “Are you just using me for sex?”
The thought was so out there, just blurted right into the open, that I could only continue to stare at him like he was crazy.
We were friends with benefits! There was no using him for sex! Sex was supposed to be what all of it was about!
…and yet, it wasn’t just the sex that kept drawing me in, was it?
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” I snapped, pulling my leggings the rest of the way on, sliding into my flats and storming away.
But as I left, rushing across the dark parking lot to my car, I couldn’t help but feel like maybe I was a little bit of the bad guy.
15
Amber
Weeks passed by without pause after I left Mickey in his car. I tried not to think about him, about what happened between us, but often the thoughts would come unbidden in the dead of the night. Hovering over me, making me question everything from the wedding and beyond.
It was frustrating, and lead to many hours of tossing and turning across my bed. In the back of my head, I knew that I would dwell on my thoughts if I didn’t have a distraction, so I did what every healthy adult did when they were ducking their personal life and threw myself into my work. Just about every job I was offered I accepted, as long as the pay was right. Work began to pile up, apparently boosted by the word of mouth from the commercial I’d done -which wasn’t even out yet- and I could feel the stress of it all weighing me down.
But that was good. Because being tied down to the Earth meant I couldn’t float off in my head. I didn’t have time to stare forlornly at my phone, wondering if I should text him, wondering if he would text me. I didn’t like where we had left things. I didn’t like being on the outs when it felt like I had just reconnected with one of my long-term friends.
But I never texted him. Or called. I was busy, after all. I tried not to let all of it bother me. I was in my element with my work and I wouldn’t crumble under the pressure. I was a warrior. I fought to get as far as I had, and I wouldn’t let something as small as stress knock me down.
That was until the annulment papers arrived.
I had been doing so well! Just chugging through life, relentless and with my head down so I couldn’t notice anything else. Finally, I had little time to relax and I had planned to binge-watch a show while eating fudge laden ice cream and making some chicken wings too, because dammit I earned them! I’d had it all laid out when the mail had come, and I’d stupidly opened the manila envelope from an address I didn’t recognize, thinking maybe it was a contract from one of the many, many projects that I had up in the air.
But it wasn’t a contract at all.
It was the annulment, everything I had asked for. All neat and legal and looking entirely impersonal.
I couldn’t explain the cold pit in the bottom of my stomach. I had been expecting them to arrive. Heck, I had demanded that he get them to me as soon as he could. It was all there, right in front of me. All I had to do I was sign them right away and then we’d go on with our lives.
Separate.
Annulled.
Which was exactly how it was supposed to be. I would go back to normal and I wouldn’t feel like there was a feeling of malcontent to everything that I did.
Or, at least that was what I told myself. But when I actually grabbed a pen to do the deed, I couldn’t just sign them as I envisioned. I sat at my table for a good thirty minutes simply staring at the pages. They didn’t move, they didn’t provide any clarity. They just sat there, glaring up at me like an accusation.
Mickey and I hadn’t spoken in so long. I found myself itching to talk to him about the annulment. Did his lawyer give him a hard time? Was he satisfied? While part of me was grateful for the reprieve from all the complications he had brought into my life, there was another part of me that wondered why he’d reacted so strangely after our hook up in his hummer.
Sure, Mickey had always been a little clingy. A little tactile and open. He didn’t have the same walls that I did, admitting what he wanted and never being ashamed of desiring things. But that didn’t mean he could just look at me like he had in the van. Like I was the center of his world and all of the lights in the universe would go out if I wasn’t there. It was too intense. Too inappropriate for what we had.
Had.
The past tense of it all made my gut drop and I had to leave the papers alone. I was just tired, and I needed my self-care day and then I would be back tomorrow. Yeah, I told myself I would sign them tomorrow.
But then tomorrow came and I didn’t sign them then, either. I figured that maybe Mickey would want to text me once he got the confirmation that I had received them, but my phone remained silent.
Maybe he had moved on?
That thought brought back that strange, hissing cat feeling, leaving me uncomfortable and distracted the entire day, which did not bode well for my sparring and rehearsals.
So that night, as I was curled up in my bed, alone and looking at my ceiling, I wasn’t proud to admit that I kinda sorta stalked Mickey’s social media to get a read of… well, anything. And also, maybe if he did have someone new in his life. Someone like Amelia, all tall and strong and beautiful. I knew that really; I shouldn’t look at any of it -it was unhealthy. Not to mention that I didn’t have the right considering how I left things, but I wasn’t the one who had made it weird!
Was I using him for sex!? No! He just…
Oh God, had I really used him for sex? I’d never been that kind of person, but the more time that passed, it was hard to see how it could be interpreted as anything but.
And yet I still looked him up. My stomach churned every time I saw tabloid-esque pictures with him and a beautiful woman on his arm. The rational part of my brain recognized most of the women as his friends or family, and I knew that he always offered his arm to someone when they walked together, but it still brought back that hissing feeling every time. Even when I told myself I was being ridiculous. Even when I reminded myself that was just the kinda guy he was.
At least his facebook status was single and I brushed aside the bead of relief that struck my heart. Although he could just be in the early stages of something, at least there was no evidence there yet. Not that it mattered. He could do whatever he wanted, of course. It didn’t matter to me.
At all.
Ugh. For some reason that felt like denial, so I just pushed the thoughts away and checked other things. He seemed to be doing well for himself. He’d been out and about more, hanging out with different friends, who -as the days passed by- I began to recognize less and less. And by that, I meant it was always new women that I didn’t know. They weren’t from our hometown, weren’t from what I knew of MMA. Just strangers that I had no right to be curious about.
And yet I was.
As I scrolled through the pictures of him with beautiful women who looked very nice on his arm, I unconsciously clenched my jaw. My teeth clenched and I left as if there was something messing around in my stomach. I almost felt sick.
Actually, I was jealous. That’s what the hissing feeling was. Maybe with a bit of possessiveness attached.
Gross.
I don’t know why I was jealous. And I couldn�
�t wrap my head around why I even cared.
I shouldn’t. Not at all. He was just an old, childhood friend. Someone who should have been safely tucked into the past where he wouldn’t bother me.
Except he wasn’t in the past at all. He was right in my present, or at least that was where I wanted him. I missed his touch, his laugh, the way he made me feel.
…that probably wasn’t good.
It was during my stalking of his social media that I found his next fight date.
“It wouldn’t hurt to watch,” I muttered under my breath. I brushed my hair out of my face and checked what channel the fight would air on. I had access to that through our company account. Cool. I programmed it into my phone and resolved to watch it when it was on in a few days.
To support him, like he had supported me.
It was only fair. There was no other reason.
No other reason at all.
* * *
The alarm on my clock went off, signaling that the fight would start soon. I had made sure to clear my schedule enough to make sure that I would be able to work from home while it was on. It’d certainly took a bit of juggling, but my partners seemed happy to give me the tiniest of reprieves. I was just beginning to regret the massive undertaking I had managed to pile onto myself, but that could wait for another day.
I scurried over to my tv and turned it on. Flipping over to the channel, I sat down to watch, getting comfy with a simple throw blanket and a glass of wine. While watching two men pummel the shit out of each other for real wasn’t usually one of my go-tos for winding down, I found myself excited to see Mickey again, as silly as that was.
I suffered through the commercials, which went way past ridiculous in both length and message. I swore I never heard the phrase ‘man-up’ so many times by so many companies right after each other. But eventually the torment ended, and I watched the opening with bated breath. There really was quite a crowd there. It reminded me of the arenas we used to watch on TV for wrestling back when we were kids. Except this was very much real.
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