“I wondered if you were wearing a bra or panties,” he says huskily. “Looks like they were wet, too.” His eyes gleam. “How wet are you now?”
I shudder as his thumbs rub circles into my hips through the blanket. Suddenly, I don’t care about trying to pull away. I just want more.
“Fuck, Grant,” I groan.
“That’s the plan,” he promises.
I want to find the words to tell him how much he’ll regret this in the morning. He might want me now, but he won’t in the morning. He’ll be upset that he succumbed to lust once more. Then we’ll be back at square one, unable to even trust each other enough to be merely friends. It won’t be fair. I want him to be in my life, but it’s not going to happen while this keeps happening between us.
This will all matter more in the morning, though. Right now, his touch is more important than anything else. If he doesn’t keep touching me, I think I’ll just fall apart at the seams. The feel of his hands is at once keeping me grounded and sending me flying. I’m dizzy with the sensations and he still hasn’t even touched my naked skin other than the brush of his hand that started all this.
“Grant…” I moan. “Please, more.”
“Patience,” Grant says, but his breathing is harsh and his hands are tightening on my hips. He’s holding himself back, but it’s getting harder and harder to do. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk right.”
Yeah, that sounds good. I shift on his lap, pressing myself closer to him, and he bites off a curse word, his grip becoming bruising for a split second before he regains control. How close to the edge is he right now? Everything is overwhelming to me right now, so it must be equally so to him. I wonder if it’s the alcohol that’s made everything so overpowering. Neither us are going to have it in us to draw this out.
But Grant is trying. His hips are moving in little upwards thrusts against my body, bouncing me slightly on his lap. My legs are loosely straddling him, and I can feeling his straining erection through his soft pants as it rubs against my thigh. But he hasn’t made any move to undress or remove my blanket. He wants to draw this out torturously slowly.
I wonder if there’s part of him that’s doing it on purpose, to punish me just because he can’t help but touch me. If that’s the case, then I’ll take this type of punishment over being ignored any day.
“Shit, Jessica,” he says, panting. “Can you feel what you do to me? Can you feel me?”
“Yes,” I groan.
“Your mouth was on that last time,” he tells me, and it conjures images of his dick, hot and heavy in my mouth. I groan again, this time without words. “And it was inside you, fucking you deeply as you rode me. Do you remember that?”
“Fuck, yes,” I moan.
Then, suddenly, his hands tighten.
“You got to give it all last time,” he says. “This time, it’s my turn.”
I don’t get a chance to ask him what he means. Suddenly, he’s moving, and the world spins around me. I can feel his hands on me, and then, suddenly, I’m lying on my back on the couch. Grant his leaning over me, one leg braced beside me on the couch, the other hanging off the side, his arms on either side of my head as he braces himself over me. My blanket has fallen open, and I’m completely naked as his eyes sweep hungrily over me, taking me all in.
“I didn’t get to look, last time,” he says, his voice low. “You sucked me dry and then you rode me so hard I was seeing stars. But I didn’t get to see you naked much, because you spent all that time chasing my orgasms. Now it’s different; you’re the one lying underneath me.”
“What are you going to do??
?? I ask, breathless.
Something crosses his face. It’s a moment of clarity and I know, if ever it was going to happen, now would be the time that Grant could just get up and walk away. I wouldn’t blame him for it. He made it clear that he isn’t interested in me right now, that all the pain and the secrets have made it hard for him to look at me with anything other than anger. That’s why we were going to try just being friends.
So much for that idea. I should have known better than to accept that first beer. It was a downhill spiral from there.
I don’t want him to leave. But I also want him to be here with me because he wants to be, not just because his lust took over and forced him to primally want me.
Trembling with the need that’s wracking my body, I reach up and put my hands on his shoulders. I don’t want him to go. But I want him to have what he needs first.
“Grant, you…” I start.
Then he’s leaning down and kissing me, stealing the words right out of my mouth. I tilt my head back so that he can thrust his tongue in and map the inside of my mouth as I open my lips, my fingers gripping his shoulders rather than pushing him away as I intended. And I know then that all my good intentions are gone. I don’t have the energy to fight this anymore, not when I want him so badly. Hopefully, this won’t ruin us trying to remain friends. We need that for Owen’s sake, after all.
But I can deal with that later. Right now, I need this for my sake. I want him. I’m addicted to Grant. I’ll take one more night with him and hope for the best.
“Grant,” I moan when he pulls back.
He lowers his head and nips my jaw, right where I’ve always been so sensitive. I remember him doing that on the first night that this happened between us. He remembers everything about my body, just as I remember everything about his and the things he likes me to do to him. It’s been three years, but we spent two and a half years mapping out each other’s bodies until we knew them just as well as our own. It isn’t surprising that he hasn’t forgotten anything about me.