The hot water pelts on my face while I stand there, letting it wash away all of my emotions. We were having such a good day. A wonderful week. And it’s all gone.
Part of me hates I feel like this. Hates that I’m so upset my mother is here. I should be happy, welcoming. This shouldn’t be filling me with rage and sadness. Beckett’s not. He’s bummed, but I think it’s more guilt. Guilt for me because of my situation. Because I’m too much of a coward to tell my parents the truth about my relationship. Part of me is scared I will lose them, but the other part of me fears I won’t but that things won’t ever be the same. And of course that’s silly to say, because things will definitely not be the same either way, but it took a lot for them to… accept is the wrong word, but understand maybe? Beckett’s situation. I don’t know if they would try as hard for me.
Maybe that’s what I’m scared of. Fear of rejection from my parents. Fear that I will have the definitive proof Beckett is their favorite. When my parents found out they were pregnant with me, they were surprised. They were, of course, married, because having sex before marriage was a big no-no for them,and could you imagine with four guys at the same time?My subconscious chimes in.
Anyway, they’ve always loved me, but it just felt different. With me, I was an oopsie. With Beckett, he was planned. For some reason, after me they had a hard time conceiving, so it took them three extra years after they were ready to get pregnant with him and they were so excited. Over the moon. I wonder sometimes if that’s how they were with me?
I pound my fist against the shower wall and resume my crying. Why am I so emotional right now?
A large thump from outside the room catches my attention. Sticking my head under the water, I let it rinse the tears away. Why? I have no fucking clue. Obviously, I’m not thinking clearly.
I grab the towel hanging beside the shower and wrap it around me. When I get to the door, I’m taken aback and another wave of emotion hits.
Shit!
The room is put back together the way it was, and Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He must have heard the pocket door slide because he turns to look at me, eyes hollow shells of what they used to be.
“What are you doing?” he asks, staring at me, his eyes searching my face.
“Jax.” I reach my hand out to him, eager to touch him, to feel him. He looks so sad and confused and I know we’re feeling the same pain even if he won’t admit it. He continues staring at me without moving, so I stomp my foot and shake my hand. I know it’s childish, but I’m scared if I open my mouth again, I will cry. And I don’t want to cry anymore. I mean, it’s just my mother at a beach house. Ugh!
The need to have him touching me, inside of me, consumes every inch of me so I let my towel fall to the ground.
A small bit of joy dances through my body when his eyes pulse wide for a second and his jaw slacks open.
A moment later, he’s walking across the room, eyes on fire.
His hand circles the back of my head as his lips crash to mine, pushing me back into the room. He kicks the door closed, only hard enough for the latch to click, as his hands rove my body and his tongue gently assaults my mouth. His kiss is deep. Fast. Passionate.
His hands quickly work his bathing suit down as he continues to move us into the shower. The hot water hits our head and runs down the small gap between our bodies, our lips never separating. When he pushes me against the tile, it feels like ice against my skin, taking my breath away.
“I need to have my cock inside of you.”
“Samesies.”
He lets out a low throaty chuckle and leans down, placing kisses on my neck, working his way down to my breasts.
A moan escapes and my back arches.
“You have to be quiet. We’re right over the living room,” he whispers, switching breasts.
Right above my mother.
Needing him inside of me, I lift my leg and hook it around his waist. His hard cock presses at my entrance.
“Jax, fuck me.” I reach my hand down and run it over his length before lining it up at my entrance.
He latches onto my neck, sucking on my skin. I love when he does this. It shoots a tingly feeling down through my nipples. “With pleasure.” His hand clamps firmly to my waist and he slams into me and holds. A wave of euphoria passes through me. He feels so good. “You’re so fucking tight wrapped around my cock,” he whispers on my skin.
His words do things to me. Good things. Great things.
My hands clamp onto his back, my body eager for more of him while the shower continues to rain on us.
He pulls out and slams in again, pausing before he repeats, getting faster and faster each time. Consumed with passion and the need to go even faster, he presses into me then lifts me onto his cock and presses my back against the wall. “I want to bury myself so deep in your pussy that you feel me for days.”
“Do it,” I moan out against his neck. “Impale me with your cock. I need you so fucking bad. Make me drip with your come so that I feel it all night.”
His breath stutters. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
