“Come with me, Sugar,” I say, driving my hips forward, and that’s all it takes.
Her pussy tightens around my shaft, and we ride out our orgasms together. Collapsing, we’re both nothing but heavy breaths and moans. My body engulfs hers, and I nestle my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her sugary scent. For a moment, I forget there’s a chance she doesn’t feel the same way as me. That whatever just happened was another blip, and as much as I liked it, she was just trying to forget the asshole who hurt her, but maybe there’s a chance this time will be different.
Chapter 13: I’m Not A Psycho
Claire
Our bodies are still tangled, and I attempt to catch my breath. It’s strange how you can go so long without seeing or touching a person, and it feels like no time has elapsed at all. Except it has. Something’s different about him now. Not in the sex department. No. He still seems to know exactly what to do to make me come completely undone. How to cast a lustful haze over all of my decisions. And maybe that’s what this is, but maybe not. His spontaneity tonight took me completely by surprise. The daring stares and chuckles against my skin were an entirely new side of him I’ve never seen before. I liked it, and I wonder if, given the chance, he’d continue to prove me wrong and let me know him completely. Or if I’m just hungover from his dick and not thinking clearly.
Honestly, it could be either one.
“You’re crushing me,” I tease, shoving him off.
Chuckling against my neck, his rough beard tickles my sensitive skin. “My bad,” he says, rolling away and out of the bed. I watch as he crosses my room.
His strong body and tight ass stir something deep inside me, and I realize I’m in trouble. Big fucking trouble. Slamming my eyes shut, I hit my head against the pillow.
Do I regret what just happened? No.
Now that I’ve been reminded what sex with him is like, will I be able to stop? Probably not.
Has he really changed? Possibly.
Am I fucked? Definitely.
Exhaling, I sit up and attempt to tame my hair.
“Power’s still out,” he calls.
“Seriously?”
Climbing out of my bed, the waves of pink are still churning outside my bedroom window, and I fiddle with the lamp next to my bed, but it doesn’t turn on.
“You didn’t believe me?” he says, causing me to turn.
“The bathroom light was on the brink of going out the other day. I was just making sure,” I explain, rounding my bed. He finds his underwear and pulls them on, snapping the waistband.
Tall, lean, muscular—he truly looks like he was created in a lab. Dark hair covers his chest and face. The lion tattoo that is an ode to his team was once the only thing to cover his left thigh, but it’s now surrounded by large flowers and greenery, creating a sleeve that trails down his leg. The bulge of his pierced dick is perfectly outlined under his tight boxer briefs.
The images on the internet didn’t lie. He’s somehow more attractive than he was before he left, and I have to force myself to look away.
Yeah, I’m definitely fucked.
Walking out of my bedroom, I find my phone where we left it and blush at the thought of what took place against the wall in front of me.
How hot it was when Everett picked me up and ate me out with my legs locked around his shoulders. He felt so fucking strong underneath me, and I liked it. I liked it a lot—a little too much.
Fuck, I want to do that again.
Grabbing my phone, I swipe up, turning on my flashlight and walking back toward my bathroom. A stream of texts from Raph litter my screen, most of them qualifying as some sort of harassment. What a dick.
“You good?” Everett asks when I cross the threshold of my bedroom door.
“Oh yeah. Raph can’t let it go that I dumped him. I think we bruised his neverending ego.”
“What’s he saying?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.
“It doesn’t matter.”
