Fixation, page 4
Her tits press against my skin, and I feel the buildup swirling through my body as I thrust into her, needing to feel her come around my cock. I tease her clit with one hand and brace us with the other.
Her whimper tells me how close she is as I close my eyes and let go, both of us reaching the highest crest together.
This is not what I was expecting.
Okay, so maybe things got a bit out of hand, but I refuse to regret it.
That was the most intense orgasm of my life. Okay, they both were. Or all three? I lost count.
Of course, he’s good in bed. He looks like that, and he’s had a ton of practice.
He discards the condom, moving around comfortably in all his naked glory as he walks back from my bathroom. Yeah, he is stupid hot.
It’s really not fair. Carved abs, full-on six pack, chiseled pecs, sculpted ass, strong legs. No deformities. It’s unholy how hot this man is.
But now, I’m satisfied. So, I don’t have to go through an app-date for a week or two to get a quick dick fix. I’m no saint, I’ve never claimed to be.
And there’s no denying the electric charge in the air between me and this total asshole.
My lips still sting from the abuse from his mouth.
He’s the same as an app-date. He doesn’t give a shit about seeing me tomorrow, and I can go to sleep sated.
He takes a seat next to me on the window seat, not immediately bolting like I expected. I try not to stare at his dick. It had demonstrated that he, in fact, had at least one thing to be so cocky about.
I don’t need round two. I need sleep. “I’m fucking starving.”
I laugh at that and grab an oversized hoodie near the seat I’d discarded the other day. I pull it on over my head and walk over to the fridge.
“You’re going to feed me too? Careful, I might never leave.”
I tug open the door. “Relax, it’s just leftover pizza from last night.” I pull the pizza box out of the fridge and bring it back to the seat, opening it and taking a piece.
He also takes one, and I close the box. “Can you put some pants on please?”
He doesn’t give me shit, but his look is smoldering before he places the pizza on top of the box. He stands and walks to where his discarded pants lie. He slips his briefs and the jeans on but leaves his shirt off, sitting down next to me and reclaiming his piece of pizza. “I knew you weren’t a prude like Gabby.”
I nearly growl, holding my cold slice in my hand. “Gabby is not a prude.”
His toned shoulders lift in indifference as he takes a bite of the pizza. “She was a virgin when they met.”
I don’t even want to know how he knows that. Do they actually talk about taking a girl’s virginity?
“So.”
“So, fucking prude. Waiting for the right guy to come along before giving it up.”
Ah, there’s the repulsion again. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Oh yeah? Who was your first time?”
I nibble on the cold pizza in my hand and think back to high school, a time I particularly don’t want to think about. “Definitely wasn’t the right one.”
He takes a big bite, talking through it and still looking hot as hell. “Did you think he was? Or were you a filthy girl even back then?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. It was only a few minutes ago.” He stops chewing and eyes me in horror. I laugh, my body racked with laughter. “I’m fucking with you, dipshit.”
“Funny.” But he doesn’t laugh, just tears another bite off the pizza.
“It was with my friend’s older brother in the backseat of a car, and he came in around ten seconds.”
“Poor fucker.”
“Yes.” I look over at him with a tilt of the head. “He was.”
That pulls his lips into a delicious grin. “Nice.”
“What about you?”
His right eyebrow lifts, his jaw ticking with thought as he chews. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
He shrugs. “It’s different for guys.”
I walk to the kitchen, grab two bottles of water, and hand him one. “Still, I’m sure you remember.”
His face morphs from semi-playful to pissed-off, and he places the water next to him on the bench. “Why the fuck would I remember that? It was the first of many.”
What the hell?
I know a lot about Brandon, mostly through Gabby. Not that she betrays his confidence, but he knows we’re best friends and we talk, especially when she’s worried. I also know that when he was quite young, his father’s boss took advantage of him. She used his body and controlled his mind for years.
“Look, if it wasn’t consensual . . .”
“What?” His eyes lift to meet mine with angry irritation. “What the fuck are you talking about? I wasn’t raped.”
“Well then, why don’t you want to talk about it? You’ve been all in my business.”
“Because I don’t fucking know.” I stare at him, studying him. And it clicks.
“You don’t remember?”
The muscles in his back are pulled tight as he finishes off the slice of pizza, his hands flexing. “I don’t.” He looks around the small open apartment. “You have anything to drink besides water?”
“No,” I answer quickly as he shrugs. “So, the quick shooter wasn’t the one? Shocker.”
He’s changing the subject.
“And now, you keep it random? Any guy who can rattle you can fuck you?”
“Slut shaming?” I raise an eyebrow and take a drink of water, letting him change the subject. What the hell do I care if he remembers his first time or not?
“Fuck no. Give me all the sluts. I’ll take them any day over a virgin who wants to cuddle.”
“Gabby and Brandon are happy, and I’m glad. I want to see my friend happy. It worked out for them.”
He grabs another piece of pizza. “So that’s what you want, then?”
“Hell no.” He looks surprised. “I don’t need someone to take care of.” His mouth tugs upward with a smirk, and I quickly add, “Not that that’s what Gabby’s doing. But everyone in a relationship takes care of the other one.”
He finishes the slice. “No time for that?”
“No patience for it either.”
He smiles, walking over to grab his shirt, apparently picking up on the fact that I’m ready for him to leave. He’s quick.
“Get some sleep. Thanks for the sex and pizza.”
Or maybe, he’s just ready to leave.
“Later.”
He smiles and heads out my door, closing it behind him.
Not the worst mistake I’ve ever made, although I’m not sure my best friend would agree.
“You want something to drink?”
I look up from my psychology book. It’s a class Gabby and I were able to take together, and it satisfies a credit for both of our very different majors. Gabby wants to go into social work like her sister-in-law, Brooke, and I’m going to work in the book world someday, hopefully for a publisher.
“No thanks. I’m okay.”
She smiles and settles on her sofa, cracking open her book.
She wanted to study here, but I’d rather be anywhere else, considering Blake and Brandon are in the garage as we speak.
But I couldn’t tell Gabby that. She just moved in and wants to show off her new place. I get it.
It’s only been three days since my hookup with Blake, and the four times I’ve seen Gabby since then, I’ve neglected to tell her about it.
As close as Gabby and I are, and as many things as we have in common, we are two very different people.
She may not have been actively seeking it when she met Brandon, but she fell in love fast and hard. Gabby is a person hell-bent on saving everyone, and Brandon, well, he needed saving.
It was a perfect match.
And Gabby was a virgin when she met Brandon because she really was waiting for the right guy. Not that I would ever tell Blake he was right about that, but he was. She had a boyfriend in high school but never slept with him because it didn’t feel quite right. She had enough confidence to wait for what she was looking for.
Me? I had sex for the first time mainly out of boredom. I was a lonely kid most of my life. My parents were older when they had me, and I’m an only child. They’re good parents, but working full-time jobs that took most of their energy left for very little time in the evenings. I found comfort in books. And when I had sex, I wanted to see if it was like my favorite books made it seem, and holy lord, was it not.
I bite my bottom lip as I tap my pencil on the notepad on which I’m taking notes on for a paper I’ve been assigned. But all I can think about is that night in my apartment with Blake.
Now that was book-worthy.
And this is new for me. After hooking up with random guys I find on my phone, I don’t sit around thinking about our encounter for days afterward. I just move on with my life, working and going to school, fully focused on my goals.
Maybe I’m obsessing about Blake because he’s such an asshole and I’m disgusted with myself.
“Are you okay?”
I look at Gabby who, of course, looks worried. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m focusing now.”
“We can do this later if you’d rather just chill first. I know you had to work this morning before class, and I’m sure you’re tired.”
My shift at the diner was only three hours today, and the place was dead, so I had time to read and study some. “I’m okay, Gabby. Really.”
She doesn’t believe me, but I’m used to crazy work schedules and running from Aggieville to campus, busting through the door just in time before I’m tardy. What I’m not used to doing is obsessing over a dumbass stranger with perfect abs, hair, ass, lips, tongue . . . Okay, you get the picture.
It’s getting bad. We were in psychology class today, and the teacher started talking about narcissists. My mind flashed to the fucking asshole, wondering how he could be so self-involved and yet make sure I came first, so he can’t be classified as a true narcissist unless perhaps it somehow benefited him in the future, and so on.
I need help.
I stand up, placing the book on her coffee table. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”
She nods and stands with me. “Okay, I’ll go start dinner. I don’t want you sneaking out of here before we eat.”
I shake my head but smile. She’s so excited to make me a meal in her home. “I never turn down homemade food.”
She walks into the kitchen, and I go down the hall to use the restroom. As I walk out of the cute bathroom that was clearly decorated by Gabby, I bump right into Blake, and I mean right into him. The fucker was crowding the doorway.
“What are you doing?” I keep my voice low, not wanting Gabby to hear anything.
His full lips, the ones I mentioned earlier, all plump and rose-colored, pull up into that ridiculous smirk, and he doesn’t move out of the way. “You’re still here?”
When I arrived, they were in the garage with the door wide open. He would know if I’d left. The asshole is just messing with me. I point down the hall toward the living room. “I’d like to be in there.”
His icy blues lock onto mine as he moves in, his breath tickling my ear. “Or would you rather we go in there?” He gestures with his head behind me toward the bathroom. “Where I’ll fuck you even better this time.”
Holy. Shit. I feel wetness pool between my legs from mere words—stupid, ludicrous words because that cannot happen. Still, my knees threaten to buckle as he pulls back and looks into my eyes again. “No.”
My eyes dart toward the hall, looking for Gabby, and his sly smile makes me want to smack him. “Don’t worry, she didn’t even hear me come in.”
“You are their guest.”
“So, they don’t have a ‘no fucking’ policy. If I have to listen to them fuck, they really can’t tell me not to.” His large shoulders shrug as he places a hand against the doorframe, further barring me from leaving. “Not that I mind, it’s kind of hot.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He brushes my long hair behind my shoulder, his eyes glancing down at my Led Zeppelin shirt, before looking back up at me. “Then why do you miss me?”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, not me, but my body for sure.”
I swallow, my throat is dry at the thought of his body and how it felt on top of me. I grasp his firm arm, and just as he thinks he has me, I push it out of the way, walking by him but stopping to look directly at his devastatingly handsome face. “I’m over it. Once was plenty.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, turning his body in my direction, towering over me. “You’re not even close to having enough.”
I don’t move, standing my ground and deciding to be firm. “It was a one-time thing, a lapse in judgment.”
He moves entirely too close to me, overwhelming me with his fresh scent and arrogant persona. “I can still feel your teeth sinking into my skin.” Don’t react. He wants a reaction. He leans in even closer, and I pick up a hint of some sort of alcohol on his breath, but it smells sweet. “I can still hear your moans.”
I feel my heart rate increase, and I know I need to get away from him. “Never going to happen again.”
He pulls back, confident grin in place as he mocks me, “Yeah well, let me know when that changes. I think I’m going to be around for a bit.”
He walks into the bathroom, closing it behind him, and I linger in the hallway for another moment.
I am royally screwed because I want nothing more than to follow him.
“Will you quit ogling my neighbors and hand me that wrench?”
I pull my eyes from the busty brunette one yard over and hand Brandon his wrench before he blows a gasket.
Brandon has always been a moody motherfucker, but without drugs or alcohol to calm his ass down, he’s a fucking nightmare.
Why his chick would want him to stay sober is beyond me.
He was a lot more fun before.
My eyes slide back over to the brown-haired beauty. She’s pretty in the typical coed way, lots of makeup, spends a lot of time tanning and probably at the gym by her toned thighs, possibly a runner.
She’s hot, but my mind is still on the feisty brunette inside.
Maybe I need another fix, just one more to get her out of my system. I was really hoping I could talk her into joining me in the bathroom, but no such luck.
She’s stronger than I thought, but I could see the desire in her eyes to do just that.
I pull a joint and lighter out of my pocket and place the joint between my lips, lighting up. But Brandon quickly rises from where he was tinkering with a motorcycle and plucks it from my mouth. “Put that shit out. What the fuck are you doing?”
He stomps it out, and I stare at the weed crushed on the cement below. “Fucking really? You’re really starting to bum me out, man.”
“I won’t tell you again.”
I might need to find a different place to stay. It’s not like a hotel would be out of the question, just a lot of effort.
“Sorry.” But I’m not, and he knows I’m not.
He goes back to fixing the motorcycle he bought literally just to have something to fix. Not because he wanted or needed it, just to work on when he’s home. To make him not fucking drink.
The neighbor cutie starts to stretch on her front porch, reaching her arms up in the air and lifting her perky tits high in the air. I glance through the windows of Brandon and Gabby’s living room, looking at Gabby and Elle hanging out on the couch.
Elle is kicked back with a textbook across her lap, her head turned to talk to Gabby.
Maybe I should head next door and see if I can scratch the itch that way.
“You ever think about letting yourself feel?”
I stare over at Brandon, horrified by his question. He means do I ever think about giving up drugs and alcohol. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?”
He continues fixing his bike but shakes his head. “You get to feel the good stuff too.”
Brandon has had some seriously fucked-up things happen to him. We don’t talk about it often, but he let it slip once. It wasn’t so much about the older chick who fucked him because, I mean, he’s a dude who was getting to have sex with a hot, older woman. His father, however, was an abusive fucking asshole.
“I’m not hiding from the bad. There is no bad for me.” Brandon used drugs and shit to numb himself, to forget.
That’s really not me.
I don’t have any significant pain in my past, nothing I’m hiding from. I was just really fucking bored.
He doesn’t look at me, but I can feel his frustration. “Everyone has shit they’re running from.”
“Not me.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” He looks up. “Why did you show up bruised and broken and seeking out a friend you know is sober.”
My eyes narrow, zoning in on him. “I was bored. Thought maybe you’d seen the light.”
He tosses the wrench on the ground and walks to me. “Bullshit.” He wipes his brow with his shirt. “But you keep telling yourself that.”
“I feel the good shit, Brandon.” Gabby opens the door, staring at us, standing close, chests puffed out in some sort of fucked-up male dominance pose. I ignore Gabby and look straight at Brandon. “That’s all I feel. You’ve forgotten how good it can be.”
“That wasn’t good, man. That was a cover.”
Gabby looks worried as she calls out, “Dinner’s ready.”
Brandon nods in her direction and stares at me as if he thinks I’ll have to get in the last word, but I don’t need it. I’m confident I’m the one who is right.
I push past him, and when Gabby moves out of the way, I walk inside, going straight to the dinner table where Elle is placing the last fork on the linen tablecloth.
She eyes me suspiciously, probably still pissed-off about my temptation from earlier.
Gabby and Brandon walk into the dining room, her hands grasping his arms like she’s holding him up. Jesus Christ, he’s not that fucking fragile.
