I bite my bottom lip as I close the distance between us, climbing onto him and reaching for his waistband. Curling my fingers into the fabric, I gently slide it down his legs as far as I can.
His cock is soft, but it won’t be for long. Curling my fingers around the base of him, I open my mouth and take his head between my lips. Swirling my tongue around his head, I suck and lick him.
As saliva drips from my mouth and onto my fingers, I begin to stroke him. It doesn’t take long for his dick to begin to harden, biology taking over. I know he’s not awake yet. His body is still too loose.
I work him with my hand and my mouth, bobbing up and down until he’s hard and ready for me. Then I release him and climb a little farther up, positioning myself, and then slowly, I sink down along his length, taking him completely inside me.
That wakes him up. His fingers curl around my hips, gripping me tightly. “What the fuck?” he hisses.
Placing my hands on his chest, I begin to ride him, wordlessly… slowly. My gaze focuses on his as I take control. He doesn’t say anything else, lifting his hips with each roll of mine. I can’t look away from him. I savor every second of this man being inside me.
A few moments later, I’m flipped onto my back, and he drives himself inside me. He fucks me hard and fast, the cushions creaking with each grind of his pelvis against my clit. It’s beautiful, amazing even. And when I come, it rushes through me hard and unforgiving, not even giving me a moment to brace myself.
One more thrust, and he buries himself deep inside me. A groan escapes his lips when he does. What he doesn’t do is kiss me. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. The loss of his mouth and tongue feels overwhelmingly huge.
He knows this is the end, or maybe he’s decided it is as well. Tears prick my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I can tell that he has something on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it, or maybe he bites his tongue to keep from saying it.
Then he shakes his head and pulls out of me before he rolls off the sofa. Without uttering a single word, he walks away from me and straight toward the small half bath that’s just off the kitchen.
I watch him go, jumping when the door slams shut.
Well, that’s that, I suppose.
Naked, half ashamed, and wholly embarrassed, I walk back to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I don’t lock it, leaving it up to him. Though I’m not sure he’ll actually use it. He won’t. He’s too prideful. Which is fine with me. It’s better this way anyway.
Climbing into bed, I pull the sheets over my naked body and cry. The tears slide down my face and land on the pillow. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I cry myself to sleep. It doesn’t take long, thankfully.
My phone alarm sounds—what feels like only moments later. I sit up and look around, holding the sheet to my body, covering my chest as I do. There is nobody next to me, and after blinking and fully waking, I realize I’m alone.
He’s not in the apartment. I can tell.
And I don’t think he’ll be back, either.
Instant sadness consumes me at the thought of not seeing him again, even though I knew that’s how this was going to play out after the fight last night. He may show up to protect me, but as soon as Dante is dealt with, that will be that.
Finding my robe, I slip it on before going into the living room. Just as I suspect, the sofa is empty, no sign of him ever being here. I try to blink away the tears, but it doesn’t work.
A single tear streams down my cheek.
I allow it, just this one, just this last time. Then no more crying about Axton Colter. That wild dream of mine is over and done with. It’s time for me to pivot, shift, and move forward again. I came here for protection, and I’ll get that. Then I will be gone. As if I had never been here… again.
PIGGY
Driving away from her apartment is not what I thought I would be doing this morning. But I can’t stay there. I can’t be with her and know that she doesn’t want me. That she’s glad we never worked out all those years ago, when I wish we had.
She doesn’t love me. That much is clear. Or maybe it’s all just my foolish, stubborn pride. I’m not sure, and at the same time, I don’t think I give much of a shit to find out, either.
I drive back to Thunder Rock but don’t even bother stopping at the clubhouse first. I do stop at our old building, the place where we spent a hell of a lot of time working and building our security supply company.
It’s still burned to a fucking crisp.
Pulling into the parking lot, I stop at the front. The insurance check cleared, and soon we’ll have to clear the lot and figure out what to do next. It won’t stay empty. Something will need to go there. We just haven’t decided on what, or rather, we’ve been so fucking busy with all the bullshit that’s been thrown our way that we haven’t had a chance.
I’m not sure how long I sit there staring at the building, but it’s long enough that a car pulls up next to me and flashes a light into the cab of my pickup. Turning my head, I look over to see a Thunder Rock police car sitting next to me, and when my gaze flicks to the driver, I curse beneath my breath.
“Fuck.”
It’s Garcia.
