by Eliza Park
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked gently, watching the flush permeate her cheeks.
“Fuck, no,” she groaned, gripping my wrist with surprising strength.
I chuckled, and then I felt it. The muscled walls of her vagina tightened around my fingers over and over again and she cried out, her chin lifting to the ceiling while her back arched impossibly. Her tits bounced with the orgasm as she rode through that last wave of pleasure. I watched her intently, waiting for the red in her cheeks to fade to pink before withdrawing my hand and bringing my fingers to my mouth.
Her eyes blinked open wearily, and she bit her lip as I sucked her wetness from my pointer and middle finger.
“I can’t wait to taste more of you,” I said, a lazy, drunk grin on my face. My eyes wandered down her body to the underwear still covering that perfect pussy.
“So why don’t you?” She asked quietly.
I rolled off of her and onto my side, shoving my left hand under the pillow, letting the other rest on top of one of her fantastic tits. I couldn’t help myself, I needed to stay connected to her body. I shook my head at her, wondering if she had a guest room with a shower.
Celeste turned onto her side and I ogled her, top to bottom, “Can I return the favor at least?” Her hand touched my chest, fingers dragging down my abdomen to the button on my jeans.
I spun out of the bed as quickly as I could. I was already painfully hard. Celeste sat, clearly annoyed, pulling a pillow to hide her incredible breasts. I leaned forward and kissed her pretty pink mouth, bruised from the onslaught. I needed to find the guest bathroom. Fast.
She reached forward, grabbing my belt loops in her fists, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
I’d left plenty of women alone in their beds at night, and of course Celeste was the only one to physically hold on to me. “To find your guest bathroom, jerk off, and pass out.”
Green eyes flashed with anger, her mouth set in a straight line. Keeping one hand looped on my jeans, she moved forward off the bed, throwing the pillow behind her. She dragged me to the master bathroom, her hips swaying as she led the way. Flipping the lights on to the master bathroom, I saw her tits illuminated under the warm yellows and gawked. “Shower, jerk off, whatever. You’re sleeping next to me.” She stood on her toes to give me a kiss on the cheek, tits pushing into my chest, then left, shutting the door behind her.
I swallowed, hard.
New Celeste was full of fucking surprises.
I was absolutely, undeniably in love with her.
Leaning against the sink, I realized I looked completely shitfaced. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I said to my reflection. “You drunk bastard, you just ruined everything.” Just the thought of her soft hands touching my cock made me groan with contempt. I turned on the shower, stepping in and thinking only of her. The wetness on my fingers, those perfect, bouncing tits, the way her nipple felt in my mouth. I came hard against the shower wall, her parting lips on my mind.
I rinsed everything off, mildly disgusted with myself but too tipsy still to really care, and dried off, pulling just my boxers back on. Turning off the lights, I slowly opened the door, creeping back into Celeste’s dark room. She was facing away from me, towards a small closet, and I climbed into the bed behind her. Her lavender scent overwhelmed me, triggering memories of our nights spent together at the academy. She smelled like sex, but not just sex, sex with me.
I fucking loved it.
I reached out and touched a strand of thick hair.
She turned, rolling over to face me, and smiled. “Did you enjoy your alone time?”
I brushed the curtain of hair behind her shoulders, happy to see that she still had her tank top off. I was feeling sentimental, nostalgic, hopeful, and all of those things were very dangerous when combined with intoxication. Of their own accord, my hands traced the groove of her collarbone, over the skin of her arm and down to her elbow. “You’re beautiful,” I muttered.
Her soft lips parted, and I touched them next, outlining the perfect bow of her upper lip. Long, dark lashes blinked closed, resting gently on her cheeks before reaching up to her eyebrows. She reached for me and I didn’t resist, cupping a palm over her hip and pulling her to me, wrapping my arms around her back. She kissed me, so so gently, her hands in my hair. I let out an involuntary grunt of a sound when her tongue dipped between my lips, and I had to pull away, already hard a second time. Her hand cradled my jaw, a small smile creeping up the corners of her mouth. Hard nipples rubbed against my bare chest and she leaned in again, kissing me very lightly before tucking her head under my chin and resting there.
I ran my fingers through her hair, my heart beating so loudly in my chest I knew she could hear it. We stayed silent, and after a while her breathing slowed, and she fell asleep. I closed my eyes, relishing the moment and still feeling a little dizzy. The last time I’d held Celeste in my arms like this, she’d broken up with me shortly after.
It wouldn’t be like that. I told myself.
I was going to prove to this crazy, beautiful, intense girl that she wanted to keep me in her life forever. And I was going to start tomorrow.
Chapter 31
Celeste
In the morning, I made breakfast. Eggs, bacon, potatoes on the skillet with white onion and red bell pepper. The smell coaxing from the stove-top triggered happy morning memories of the time I spent at my grandparents’ house. I missed listening to the two of them bicker over coffee. I picked my phone up off the gray granite counter, not even having to scroll through my recent texts to find my grandmother’s thread. I’d texted her the night I’d arrived and since then she’d been berating me with questions about New York and Maverick.
Me: Making breakfast this morning and missing you two. How’s the farm?
It was 7AM in Idaho and I knew they were probably out tending to the horses or sitting on their porch enjoying the sun. My grandma frequently abandoned her phone in strange places around the house. It could be sitting next to a big trough in the barn or lying on top of the microwave, buzzing incessantly with messages from kids and grandkids.
I pushed at the potatoes with a flat wooden spoon, remembering those first few days after I’d landed on the farm. I’d tried so hard to be a good granddaughter, but my body was too exhausted, too riddled with the new wave of depression after Emily’s death.
I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away.
My first day of class was tomorrow and I was more than ready to start my new life.
Maverick was going to wake up in my bed this morning, almost completely naked.
Things were falling into place.
Granted, I still had to prove to him that despite being damaged, I wasn’t fragile. I could handle this. Sex, booty calls, potentially even a real, adult relationship with real feelings. The orgasm he’d given me last night was just a small reminder of the delirious amounts of pleasure I knew he was capable of. I remembered those days so well, I’d lived through them time and time again while working on restoring my memory. All the small details I held in the back of my mind were truly damaging to the asshole facade he’d been perpetrating for years.
Everything was cooked, plated, and giving off a delicious aroma on the counter when I reentered my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. I tiptoed over to the bed, biting my lip at the giant, half-naked body sprawled across my sheets. His hair was messy and unkempt, features fully relaxed, and the top half of his incredible form was exposed. I climbed in next to him from the foot of the bed and pulled the sheet up over both of us, fitting perfectly under his outstretched arm.
I didn’t hesitate, running a hand over the planes of his chest and abdomen, my lips finding a spot on his neck to kiss. “Wake up,” I whispered, “I made breakfast.”
He didn’t move and I kept kissing, working my way along his jaw, wondering how far I could go before he finally woke up. Maverick was usually a fairly light sleeper, it’s why he had all of those semi-permanent purple bags
under his eyes at school. The only obstacle separating my warm skin from his was the flimsy silk tank top I’d thrown on this morning and I could feel my nipples harden as they pressed into his side. I looped my finger under the thick band of his boxers, wanting to see if what he’d said the other day was true.
Parts of me are much bigger.
A hot hand clasped around my wrist and I felt myself being rolled and then pinned under a heavy, muscled body. “Mmm,” Maverick groaned into my ear, “How far were you hoping to get?” His voice was rough, husky with sleep, making my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I hooked my knees on either side of his hips, crossing my ankles. Maverick held my hands in his on the pillows, his fingers intertwining with mine. His lips brushed up my neck and I heard him inhale deeply. His pelvis pressed into me, the undeniable hardness in his boxers shifting against my already warm flesh.
“As far as I possibly could,” I breathed.
I heard the smile in his voice and tilted my hips to grind against his. He was right there, I could feel every long inch, and I desperately wanted to strip the clothes from our bodies. I tugged against his hold on my hands. The grip tightened ever so gently, and I squirmed, trying to find relief from the building pressure, squeezing my thighs around him. He was moving against me, slowly, steadily, fucking me dry and I was growing wetter by the second. My breath was coming in pants and I pushed my head back into the pillow, the need for more beginning to drive me insane.
Mav stopped then, lifting his head to look around the room, “Do I smell bacon?”
I stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious right now?”
He moved off of me, releasing my hands, and I saw with little satisfaction the giant bulge hiding in his underwear. “I’m starving, Ace, did you really order breakfast already? What time is it?” He glanced around the room, eyes settling on the alarm clock on my nightstand. “Oh, it’s early,” He grinned down at my disgruntled, sexually unsatisfied figure. “Good.”
I eyed him suspiciously. He was in too good of a mood for a guy who hadn’t gotten laid twice now.
“I made breakfast, Mav. It’s on the freaking counter.” I slid out of the bed, feeling hot, a little embarrassed, and all kinds of angry.
“You made breakfast? Since when do you cook?” He asked, following me out of the room.
I grabbed my coffee cup from the counter and took a sip, trying not to look at his half-naked body as it glided around my apartment. “Since Idaho.”
He sat at the stool on the counter, sliding a plate to him and bending over it like a starved puppy. “Fuck me, you’re amazing,” he said, either to me or to the food.
My anger faded quickly, replaced by amusement as I watched him shovel the eggs and potatoes into his mouth, stopping every now and then to let out a moan of pleasure. His plate was clear in a number of minutes, and he stood up when he was finished, rounding the counter, and hovering over the stove, eying the remaining food like it owed him money.
“You can have more,” I said, almost laughing at the expression on his face.
He refilled his plate and slid it back across the counter, then turned to me. “Is that coffee?”
I smiled and turned, pulling a mug out of the cupboard, and handing it to him, “Are you like this every morning?”
He filled his mug and set it on the counter, stepping over to frame my small body within his. Bending his head, Maverick brushed the hair from my face with his knuckle, “What, hungry?”
“Energetic…” His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, causing my breath to hitch. He hadn’t even kissed me yet this morning, I was getting a full body rush just from his presence.
The smirk he offered me was rakish, bold, “I never run out of energy, Ace. Don’t you worry.” He stepped back, leaving me flushed as he reseated himself behind the counter. “I’ve been hungry since I started training a few years ago,” he said then, “It never seems to go away.”
I sat next to him, my gaze raking slowly down his body, still clad only in boxers. I wasn’t even sure I could eat when he was sitting there, distracting me with his nearly naked existence. He was all sharp lines and dark shadows of pure man, his body fit for the cover of a Men’s Health magazine. Attempting to swallow down the swirl of dirty images in my head, I worked on my own breakfast.
“I know what you mean,” I said lightly, “When I started running and lifting I felt like I could never catch up with calories.”
Maverick’s fork froze in mid-air, “You work-out?”
“Is that weird?”
“No, I mean, I assumed,” His eyes drifted over my own poorly covered figure, mirroring my action from earlier, “You’re fit as fuck.”
Our eyes met for a moment and I watched a myriad of thoughts cross his mind, hoping they were just as despicable as mine.
“Hold on,” he said then.
I looked around, confused.
“Did we…have sex?”
I narrowed my eyebrows at him, “Yes, Mav, I do believe we have had sex.”
He shook his head, “No, I mean last night.”
“I’m sorry, you don’t remember?” My stomach boiled with disappointment and anger. “You were that drunk?”
“Oh fuck,” he said, “I’m sorry, I was hoping it was a dream.”
My heart clenched at his words and I shoved my plate away angrily, hopping off the stool, “Then let’s just pretend it was.”
“That’s not,” I heard him stand, “Celeste that isn’t what I meant.”
I was heading for my own bedroom door, but spun on my heel, pointing a finger at his too-close chest. “I know what you meant, Maverick. You don’t have to explain it to me.” I whirled around again, strutting to my door with an attitude I didn’t know I possessed. He slipped between myself and the door with inhuman speed and I groaned. “Why do you keep doing that?”
He held his hands up in surrender, “You’re the one who keeps running away.”
“Get out of my way,” I growled.
“No. Listen to me.”
I clenched my jaw, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I don’t want to rush this, Celeste.”
“Then why did you climb into bed with me last night? Why spend the night at all?”
That rakish smirk reappeared, causing my thighs to clench together, “Can you blame me? You invited me and you were moaning my name with your hand in your pussy.”
The flush crept back into my cheeks. He was right, obviously, he was right.
“And I missed you, Ace. I said it already, but fuck, I’ll say it however many times I need to get my point across. I fucking missed you.” He stepped closer to me, touching the hair hanging loosely around my shoulder, “I was hoping the first time I fucked you, I’d at least remember it.”
“Oh, we didn’t have sex last night.”
“We didn’t?” His expression changed to something hopeful.
“No, you wouldn’t even let me touch you.”
He was even closer now and his hand wrapped around my back, pulling me flush against him, “Good. I’m proud of myself.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Celeste,” He said quietly, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“You’re going to need to be a little clearer with me, Mav. Fuck what up?”
His hand cupped the back of my neck, lifting my chin so he could stroke the apple of my cheek with his thumb. “Allow me to clarify,” he murmured, “I made a mistake letting you go the first time, and I’m not willing to make that mistake again. But we need to go slow, Celeste, for the sake of my sanity, football season, and scholastic year.” Cerulean blue watched me intently, “If we cross that bridge too soon, I will fuck everything up. I’ll transfer to Colombia, I’ll marry you in Vegas, I will not leave that pussy for the remainder of my life and it will ruin everything you’ve worked for. Every giant step you’ve taken towards normalcy will disappear.”
I brushed my lips against his, “I disagree.”
“You
’re not allowed to disagree.”
“You can’t tell me what I’m not allowed to do.”
He pulled me tighter against him and a gasp escaped my traitorous body. He was looking down at me with a challenging expression, daring me to fight him, but then he softened, switching gears, “For my sake, Ace. We have to wait.”
I ran my fingers down his bare chest, “How long?”
“However long it takes.”
I frowned at this. I needed a timetable, a hard, drawn out direction.
“When we’re ready,” He said then, bending his head, his lips scanning my neck, voice dropping to a whisper, “And believe me when I tell you this: I will be the last man to ever be inside of you.”
The weight behind his words sank into my stomach as I leaned into his embrace.
The last man.
His teeth grazed my skin and I shivered.
“Now I need you to put some real clothes on before I rip that silky piece of trash from your body.” He released me then, side stepping to allow me access to my room.
I raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure you don’t want to watch me change?” Thumbing the strap of my tank top, I tugged it down over my shoulder, loving the way his eyes followed the movement.
His jaw clenched and I noted the unmistakable bulge in his boxers. “Get your ass in the room, Celeste,” he growled.
I grinned, standing on my toes, and tracing the line of his pec with one finger, “Quit telling me what to do, Maverick.” I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it off, laying it gently over his shoulder. “You’re so bossy now.” I moved to stand behind him and sank my teeth into the hard skin on his shoulder, pressing my bare breasts into his back.
Maverick’s chin fell forward to his chest and I could see the clenched expression he wore, eyes closed. “Celeste,” He warned.
I licked the spot I’d just bitten, “Alright, bossy, but I’m not going to make this easy for you. I’m not as patient as I used to be.”