“Stop fucking thinking,” he growls.
If only. That’s why he’s here, though. He knows how to push me into that blissfully quiet space.
“What do you need?”
That’s a more Garrett thing to ask. Less sharp thanyou rang for service?
But both are on point. I need him, because his mouth chases my worries away, if only for an hour.
One of his hands curves down to the hem of his shirt and then his fingers are gripping my bare ass, shoving under the elastic of my panties. Electricity streaks across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
We really shouldn’t be doing this, and that makes this even hotter.
You are a doctor, Rory Minelli. This is shameful behaviour.
But I don’t care. I tried to make our relationship work, and when it ended, I tried to move on. Doing the right thing in both spaces had failed miserably.
Maybe once I finish my residency, I can spend some time figuring out why only Garrett works me up like this. For now, in the few spare hours I have, I don’t want?—
“Jesus Christ,” he growls. “You’re fucking soaked for me.”
His fingers have unerringly found the seam of my sex and now he’s stroking my pussy lips, making my slickness spill free.
I moan.
“Call me up so I can come over and be witness to how messy you are on the inside.” His voice sounds like it is underneath my skin now, rough and raw. “When did you start to ache today, Rory? Was it all day?”
I shake my head. Not quite all day. But by lunch, mythoughts were on him. On his voice and his hands and his cock.
And I can’t deny it, because he made me use my words when I texted him.
An advantage of fucking your ex is that there is no confusion about what one wants. I wouldn’t text him if I weren’t horny. He wouldn’t have messaged back if he didn’t feel the same way.
We don’t need to pretend that we aren’t desperate for this.
That he doesn’t want to get his fingers inside my pussy. That I’m not aching to unzip his fly and get my hands on?—
As if he can read my mind, he grabs my wrist and pulls my hand up over my head.
His mouth drags along my jaw, and my heart freezes for a second, wondering if he’ll kiss me this time.
We haven’t yet.
Not since two days before we broke up in April.
I’ve gone nine months without kissing him.
Now I’m thinking about his mouth, how good his tongue would feel against mine, and that’s the opposite of where my head should be at. We should be de-escalating this.
And yet I yearn for his mouth.
“Garrett,” I whine, twisting my face, seeking him out.
He releases my pinned wrist and pushes those fingers over my tongue instead. I wrap my arm around his neck and give in, letting him fuck my pussy and my mouth with his hands. Letting him invade my body and chase away my thoughts about how to tell our parents we aren’t together anymore. Christmas is right around the corner.
“Jesus, your mouth is so fucking hungry, isn’t it?” Hepulls his hands off me long enough to suck his fingers, then he’s unbuckling his belt. “Get on your knees.”
He yanks off his shirt and leans his bare back against the door.
