Chapter 27 - Becca -One Night
Ican’t believe I spoke like that to my mother. Then again, I also can’t believe that I just cancelled that date, with only an hour’s notice, with a text message. But at least I cancelled.
And I was right, the guy told on me just like I thought.
What an asshole.
I also can’t believe she accused me of making up a boyfriend. And then had the audacity to tell me I wasn’t allowed to have him over at my apartment this late. And to ask what I planned to do while I had him here.
“How about here?” Johnny asks, placing the door rock on the bookshelf near my kitchen table. “I think it really makes the colour of these books pop.”
And just like that, I feel better. Somehow, with one cute comment, he took the shadow mom placed on this day and replaced it with sunshine. That’s what it feels like when he’s around. Like I’m finally able to feel the sun on my face.
Like I get to be happy.
And I’m going to keep that for as long as it lasts. This may be a fake relationship, but since it’s the last one I’m ever going to get, I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.
That starts with throwing my one night rule out the window.
“Johnny?”
He comes over to me. “Becca?”
“No one is going to come looking for us now.”
“Thank fuck,” he says, grabbing me roughly by my hips and pulling me close. “I’ve been so fucking hard for you all day.”
I slip my hands up into his hair and drag his lips down to meet mine. This is what I’ve been waiting for since that first night. Since I saw him on stage and I stopped fucking breathing when he winked at me. His tongue licks into my mouth, his teeth graze my lip, and I can’t stop my hands from roaming his body, like I want to touch him everywhere at once.
“Please don’t turn me away,” I say, stopping our kiss to rip my shirt off. “I just about died that first night.”
“Never,” he murmurs against my mouth. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I know now that I need to have you. If you’ll let me.”
I step away from him and slip my pants down my legs, kicking them off my feet. Standing in only my underwear now. I reach for his shirt, pushing it up and over his head.
Good lord, all that ink is making me dizzy. I want to spend hours mapping out all the art on his body, touching every line etched in his skin. I can’t focus on any one spot for long, my eyes longing to drink in every inch of his body, to memorize it. I wonder if he’d let me photograph him? A body as beautiful as his needs to be photographed, cataloged in a museum somewhere, preserved for future generations to wonder at.
“You are so beautiful,” I whisper, the words slipping from my mouth in awe. “How are you allowed to exist?”
He chuckles, stepping closer, sliding a bra strap down my left shoulder, kissing the spot it leaves bare. “If I’m beautiful, then you are radiant. Angelic. Pure perfection.” He punctuates each compliment with a kiss down my arm. His hand cups my breast, his thumb brushing over a pebbled nipple, sending little shocks of pleasure to my center.
I pop open the button on his jeans and slide the zipper down. My hands find his hips, slide under the waistband of his jeans, and push them down to the floor, leaving him standing in his boxer briefs, joining me in my near nudity.
Johnny bows his head to my chest, sucking a taut nipple into his mouth through the lace of my bra, teeth barely grazing the flesh. The moan that escapes me sounds inhuman, and I can’t even care. How did I ever think I could live with having Johnny for only one night? We’ve barely begun, and he’s already the best I’ve ever had. He teases and flicks at my nipple with his tongue, his hand circling around my back, and with a flick of his fingers, he unhooks my bra. When he moves his head to allow it to fall to the floor, I see his eyes widen, his pupils darken, and he licks his lips in appreciation.
He likes what he sees.
“No, darling,” he says, correcting the thought that I must have unknowingly voiced, “I love what I see. You are more beautiful than I imagined. How could a man ever be satisfied having only one night with you?”
My breath catches in my throat, feelings of inadequacy swelling and threatening to overwhelm me. When this fake relationship end it’s going to destroy me. But I can’t stop.
I grab his hand, and he follows me to my bedroom. Once inside, he slides his hands around my waist and walks be backward to my bed. I sit and slide my way to the middle of the bed, leaning back on my elbows for support. Johnny’s hands slide into the top of his boxer briefs, inching the waistband down, exposing his skin sliver by sliver. The tattoos don’t end. He has tattoos all the way down to the base of his cock.
“The rumours aren’t true,” he says with a small grin. “I could never bring myself to tattoo my dick.”
“Pretty damn close,” I force out, without looking away from where his dick is hidden by his underwear. “I can’t imagine it would hurt much more than being tattooed right at the base like that.”
“Oh, no. That’s not why I never got it tattooed.” He pushes his underwear to the floor. “This is why.”
