Why the hell did he have to talk like a ninety-year-old man? I mean, so sweet, but I half expected a vaudeville act to come strolling by or some shit.
“I would really like to kiss you, Mari, if that would be okay. I wouldn’t want to come across as too forceful in any way.”
I nodded my agreement to the kiss and was pleasantly surprised at how soft and sweet it was. Rather than demanding and punishing, it was almost like a sweet ending to a nice night.
Until I could hear Kaylie’s words in the back of my head.
“He’ll probably ask you permission to put his penis in your vagina…”
“Sebastian, would you like to come upstairs for a cup of coffee?”
His eyes widened in surprise, and a smile grew on his face.
“I would love a cup of coffee.”
He reached for my hand and held it gently as we made our way into the apartment.
I went to put my coat and purse in the closet, and when I returned I found him looking through my kitchen cabinets.
“Sebastian, what are you doing?”
“I was going to try to surprise you by getting the coffee started, but for the life of me I can’t find your coffee mugs or your coffee for that matter.”
I just started at him for a few moments, trying to figure out if he was for real.
“What?”
He stopped, looking suddenly very self-conscious about the way I was just standing there with my mouth gaping.
“You’re trying to make coffee?”
“Well, yes, you invited me up here for coffee, and I thought that was great, because I really didn’t want the night to end.”
“Sebastian, I didn’t really mean coffee.”
“I’m so confused.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I mean, he was so socially inept it was adorable at times.
“After a date, especially a third date, if a woman invites a man up for coffee, it usually means sex.”
“Wait, what?”
He was turning about as red as the ripest tomato on the vine.
“Yup. Sex. So, Sebastian, would you like to get laid tonight?”
I watched him as the words sunk in, not surprised that I didn’t get an immediate response to my question. I saw him open and close his mouth a few times, and then as the meaning really and truly sunk in, a huge smile spread across his face.
“Fuck, yes.”
Praise Jesus, the man could cuss. Thank the Lord. I finally felt that perhaps I could exhale just a little bit around him, which was pretty messed up considering I’d invited him up to my apartment with the sole plan of getting him naked and horizontal.
He closed the distance between us with two steps, and grabbed the back of my head, roughly pulling me forward into a searing kiss. Well, it would have been searing, except that I lost my balance, tripped, fell forward and our front teeth hit each other. We separated, each with hands over our mouths and looking at each other as the culprit, before bursting into simultaneous laughter.
“Well, that was a graceful move.”
He stood with his hands on his hips, his lips pulled up in a half smile as he shook his head slowly.
“Maybe we should approach with caution?”
I took exaggerated, slow steps towards him, and once I was a breath away I cupped his cheeks with my hands, not out of tenderness, but to get him to hold still as I pressed my lips to his. He held still for a moment, before running his hands down my back to grab my ass.
He pulled my hips tight to his, and I groaned as I felt the evidence of his interest in me against my lower abdomen. I could feel it throbbing through my clothing, and I felt my own arousal increase as a result. Thank fuck, too, because it helped make it feel less like a ‘getting over Dane’ experiment.
I rotated my hips a little, wanting to test the waters and get a general idea of what I was going to be enjoying. Pure lust shot downward when he bit my lower lip in response, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth. The unexpected pain nearly made me come undone right then and there.
I put my hand on his shoulders and used them as leverage to wrap my legs around his waist. I loved doing this, because it pressed him intimately against my throbbing lips, which both heightened the sensation and slightly calmed the ache that was burning between my legs.
He wasn’t expecting that, so he staggered backward a little bit and leaned backward on the wall.
“Dude, if you drop me right now, it’s proof that this was not destined to happen.”
“Not. Going. To. Happen.”
He laid little bites along my neck and ear as he ground out each word. I arched my back and slightly moved my hips, thrilled in the current of feeling that spread from my heated core outward.
His hands easily held me up, and I could feel him start to push and pull slightly on my ass. Before long, I was dry humping him hardcore in my living room. Both our breaths were coming out in gasps and I was seconds away from coming when he dropped me unceremoniously on the couch.
He paced the length of the room, holding his hand up while he walked, silently asking me for a moment so he could catch his breath. I stood up and started walking back to my bedroom, figuring he’d get the hint and follow when he was ready. I was purposefully keeping the doubts about this evening as far away from my conscious thought as possible. I was going to do this.
I was going to have sex with Sebastian.
I was going to feel some damned electricity, even if I had to ride him so hard that sparks flew off of his dick.
I was going to like it.
Not the best pep-talk in the world going in to spread eagle, but that didn’t matter. This was happening. I could hear his footsteps down my short hallway, and I clapped my hands like a football team breaking a huddle.
Game. Fucking. On.
As he walked in my bedroom, his eyes were the half-slits of a predator. He unbuttoned his shirt while he walked forward, until he exposed his chest. I walked forward, and ran my hands up his abdomen, pinching his nipples just a little bit to test the waters of his sensitivity. He growled and leaned forward to capture my lip between his teeth again, pulling slightly.
I reached for his jeans, wanting to unbutton them quickly. I felt stupidly excited about exposing him, seeing firsthand what kind of pistol he was carrying concealed. I really hoped I wasn’t going to be faced with a snub-nosed revolver. A nine-millimeter would be okay, but a double-barreled shotgun would have me on my knees singing the Hallelujah Chorus.
He gently pushed my hand aside before he picked me up and then sat on the edge of my bed, with me straddling him. He pulled my shirt up and over my head, taking a moment to appreciate the sheer bra I was wearing.
He could see my tightened nipples through the material and leaned forward to take one peak into his mouth, sucking on it through the nearly weightless material. The dampness of his breath, pressure from his mouth and slight friction from the material moving across my sensitive skin had me involuntarily arching my back. I reached for my own tits, pushing them together for him, serving them up as a sacrifice to the worship of his mouth.
I fucking loved having my tits sucked. I knew it was crass to word it that way, but it didn’t matter. Mouth. Lips. Teeth.
Yes, yes and fuck, yes.
He finally reached behind me and undid the clasp, and I gasped at the new sensation of warm, wet material making way to cool air. I ground myself hard into his lap, pleased to hear him choke out a curse as he roughly grabbed my hips and held them still.
He reached underneath the skirt I was wearing, choked when he was met with nothing but my damp heat. That’s right, I was a nasty whore who skipped the undies to avoid an unsightly panty line.
His fingers slipped inside of me, teasing, stretching. The heel of his hand pressed hard on my clit, a compliment to the sensation of being filled, even if only slightly, by his fingers. I was already so revved up by the nipple play that my walls started to clench with an impending orgasm.
Yes.
Please.
Just before I was able to find my release, he pulled his hands away, and set me on the bed. He unzipped my skirt and pulled it down. I damn near threw a temper tantrum at the stop and go that he was putting me through. Like, you don’t rev the engine of a Corvette, hit the gas and then the brakes immediately after.
That was a good way to end up with a pissed off Corvette.
I leaned back on the bed in my nakedness, very quickly cooled off and more than a little annoyed. Until he started unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down. Ahhhh, he was a boxer brief type of guy. I had totally pegged him for tighty whities.
His cock stood out, proud and throbbing. It almost looked painful, it was so hard. I licked my lips involuntarily at the sight of the bead of precum that was making the tip glisten. As far as gun size, well, it could have been a little more impressive a barrel, but as long as he knew how to aim and fire, we would be all set.
He pulled on a condom, and braced himself over me in a high pushup. He stared down at me, his eyes almost black with his desire. Fuck, that was hot as hell, being able to see his eyes change just because he wanted me so badly.
I felt the head of his cock against my entrance, and braced myself for the welcomed intrusion and the release I would finally have after being teased so mercilessly.
We both groaned as he slipped inside of me. He pulled out halfway, and slammed back in, fucking me hard and fast from the start.
I started to feel my orgasm build again, and was about to give into it when I heard him grunt and sputter, before holding perfectly still before collapsing down on me.
What the hell just happened?
He kissed my forehead before he rolled off of me and pulled the now barely used condom off of his shrinking dick. I could feel the bed lift on his side when he got up to dispose of it, but I was unable to make eye contact.
“Babe, that was absolutely incredible. You were amazing.”
Holy shit.
This was the worst of the worst.
I could deal with a pencil dick. I could deal with a little chub. But this, this was something that I was pretty damn sure that no fledgling relationship could ever overcome. This was beyond me. I wasn’t a strong enough woman to stand by my man over this problem.
Sebastian was a fucking minute man.
Chapter Nineteen
Jamison
I couldn’t move.
I could barely open my damn eyes.
What the fuck did I drink last night? I ran a quick mental inventory, but no alcohol came to mind.
What did come to mind was flashes of skin, painted with glorious ink. Dark images meant to cause nightmares not hard-ons. I saw purple hair, a mouth open with pleasure, tits standing high and proud, just begging my teeth to grace the pointed tip.
My cock started to stiffen as those images merged from flashes to videos to memories.
Jennifer.
I’d had her in every possible way, every possible position on every possible surface of my house.
I ran out of condoms, which was probably the only reason we had to call an end to the Olympic games that were going on in my apartment. I stretched, surprised at how sore my legs and lower back were feeling. I worked out plenty, so it wasn’t like I never used my muscles. Hell, I somewhat prided myself on them.
And I was something of a man-whore, so it wasn’t like I didn’t have my share of physical activities with the opposite sex.
So why the hell did I feel like I went a few rounds with Conor McGregor?
Shit, that was the best sex of my life, and all courtesy of a scrappy bitch with an attitude who I could snap in half with one hand if I wanted to.
I smirked, knowing with some smug certainty that if I was this sore, she probably was going to be unable to walk. I should do something nice for her, like give her a Tylenol with her coffee.
Wait a minute, that sounded dangerously close to domesticated in my head.
Holy shit. My heart started racing, realizing the potential implications of my thoughts. She’d stayed the night. In my bed. Asleep with me.
I vaguely remember waking up at one point only to find the two of us tangled up in each other, a blend of arms and legs and ink. Why didn’t I panic then? Why did it feel like home to me?
Shit, I was growing a fucking vagina. I quickly reached down to reassure myself that I was still, in fact, one-hundred percent man.
I didn’t do morning-afters. I didn’t do overnights. I did thank you for your service, and I wish you well on your future endeavors. I was going to have to let her down carefully. I mean, she was kind of a freak, so God only knew what she would do in retaliation. After last night, I figured she was going to be a little hooked, so I had to be really careful. Fuck, she knew where I lived. She knew where I kept my bike.
She was going to be trouble.
I finally cracked my eyes open and rolled over to face the inevitable: a soft, sleeping form. A beautiful woman who had the potential to make waking up so much better by being there on my left-hand side. A broken soul, whose jagged edges somehow fit perfectly with mine.
Where the hell had that come from? Jesus Christ, if I kept this shit up I’d be buying her fucking candy and waiting for her outside of work like a whipped, weak-ass excuse for a man.
I took a deep breath.
“Jennifer, listen, I think you were incredible and everything but…”
I stopped mid-sentence when I realized I was talking to air. Her side of the bed, where I knew she had been hours ago was empty. The blankets pulled up nice and tight, as if it had never been disturbed.
Without thinking of what I was doing, I leaned over and sniffed the pillow, hoping to catch the ghost of her spicy scent. No floral, no vanilla, nothing that smelled of hopes for a wedding ring and two and a half children. No, she wore an almost spicy musk, and damned if it didn’t do something to me.
I looked around the room, trying to find some evidence that last night wasn’t an elaborate wet dream.
Nothing.
No clothes. No shoes. No hot piece of ass.
I got out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweats and strode out to the kitchen. My entire apartment was cold and abandoned, as if there was no life existing within its walls.
I’d never thought of my space as uninviting before. It had exposed bricks, huge glass windows that framed the city, hardwood floors. This morning, it was as if all warmth and life had been sucked out.
Looking at the kitchen counter, I half expected to find a note or something.
Anything.
Nothing.
I sat down on the couch, absolutely flabbergasted.
What the fuck had happened? I had been walked out on. I had been treated like one-night stand.
Shit.
Was this how I had left women feeling? No, that couldn’t… no.
I shook my head, trying to rid my brain of this introspective bullshit.
No.
I’d always made it clear. I’d always set the expectations. I was not a forever type of guy. I was a fun time. I was sore muscles. I was orgasms that ripped through your body so hard you would almost pass out.
I was not wedding rings and first dances.
So, no. I did not leave women feeling bad. I was not that type of guy.
Except suddenly, while sitting here feeling somewhat abandoned, I had a sinking suspicion that I had become that guy in my efforts to never tie my heart or any other part of my body to a woman.
Never again.
I leaned my head back on the sofa and closed my eyes, my darkened thoughts swirling in my head. My mind allowing feelings to surface, feelings that I’d carefully buried years ago.
“Jamie, I’m pregnant.”
I reached under Aly’s chin and tipped her face up to me, searching those beautiful pale blue eyes, their pain gutted me better than the sharpest knife could. I used the pad of my thumb to wipe the tears from her dampened cheeks, then leaned forward to kiss the fresh tears away.
I
had no words. I had no doubt that she was carrying my child.
My child.
I was going to be a father.
Emotions quickly rose and battled within my heart. Joy at the life that grew inside her, the best half of each of us. The physical manifestation of how much we loved each other, proof that no one could ever take that love away from us. Fear that I would follow in my parents’ footsteps, and become a parent that was incapable of caring, finding solace only at the bottom of a bottle or the business end of a needle.
“Ours.”
I put a protective hand on her lower abdomen. It was so flat. There was no evidence of the life hidden within.
She put her hand over mine and sobbed. For a half of a second, I wondered if she wished it was someone else’s child she carried. I couldn’t help myself. She should be with a pedigree, not a mutt living on scraps.
What on earth could I offer her and my unborn son or daughter? I was still in high school, no chance of me going to college. There was no money, and they didn’t have scholarships for kids like me, who liked to get their hands dirty and live with grease under their fingernails.
Kids were expensive, weren’t they? Mom was always letting me know that if I had been aborted like she wanted, she would have all the money in the world. Hell, if I hadn’t been born, she wouldn’t need to drink or use.
That won’t happen to me.
I thought it resolutely, except even in my own head it came across as a question mark. Was it too late for me? Was I so fucked up in the head that I had no chance of having a normal life with a family that I loved rather than loathed?
“Jamie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get pregnant.”
“Shhhh, it’s going to be okay, Aly. I promise. I will be the best dad that ever existed. If it’s a little boy, I’m going to teach him how to be a great man, to love his mommy and be good to her. I will teach him to throw a football and how to make dinner, because he’s not going to grow up thinking he’s too good to help out around the house. If it’s a girl, lord help any little boy who comes around thinking he’s ever going to hold her hand. I’ll teach her to throw a right hook and how to shoot a gun. She will never be helpless. And she’ll always be daddy’s little girl.”
Until We Fall (Trust Duet Book 2) Page 13