Garrett shoves me harder against the wall, takes both my wrists in one hand, and pins them over my head, his other hand at my throat, fingers pressing. I’ve done it. I’ve unlocked him.
“You like pissing me off.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Garrett. I love it.”
He releases my throat and trails one broad fingertip across the waist of my jeans. “I fucking hate these jeans.”
“I might, too, if my name was on the credit card that paid for them. They were expensive after all, and I bought three pairs.”
A throaty, dark chuckle leaves his lips. “Then I have two pairs to destroy.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn lowly. My ass looks divine in these jeans; the way both Garrett and Jaxon can’t ever take their eyes off it when I wear them around those two tells me so.
With his gaze fixed on mine, Garrett slips his hand below the waist of the tight denim and jerks my hips forward. “Then they need to be on the fucking floor, because that’s the only way I like them.”
My fingertips dance up his biceps, over his broad chest, sinking into his hair as I brush my lips over his. “Then I guess you better get to work, Andersen.”
I leave him in my entryway as I saunter down the hall, stripping my shirt off on the way, casting a lingering glance over my shoulder when I ditch it behind me. The jeans are next, and I hang them off the tip of my pointer finger before dropping them outside my bedroom door. Finally, Garrett kicks his ass into high gear, but not fast enough to catch me before I disappear into the attached bathroom.
I’m not doing a thing in here other than admiring the way my body looks in my matching bra and panty set, satin and lace the color of emeralds. I’ve gained a little weight in the time I’ve spent with Garrett, something that would’ve sent me on a three-week spiral years ago. But today, I palm my boobs, enjoying the heaviness to them, peek at myself in the mirror, loving the cheeky fit of my ass in these panties.
I run my fingers through my braid, breaking up the thick waves until my hair is a fluffy mess around my shoulders, and I can’t wait for Garrett to worship me.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the man’s got the most incredible hockey ass. He stands so casually as he waits for me, the sleeves of his button-down folded nearly up to his elbows, tapered pants snug around his lean waist, perfect butt, and thick thighs.
He turns toward me, pupils dilating, throat working as I close the space between us.
“So handsome,” I murmur, wrapping his tie around my fist, giving it a tug. He comes tumbling forward, gripping my biceps for balance. I drop the silk tie to our feet and work the buttons of his shirt. “Will you fuck me in your suit one day?”
His eyes widen, fingertips digging into my skin. I like when we do this flip-flop thing, trading off on the bold and the shy. We do it so effortlessly, like we were always meant to complement each other.
“Garrett?” My palms glide over his chest and shoulders, slipping his shirt off until it dissolves to a puddle on the ground. “I asked you a question.”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to do, Jennie.”
I smile, loosening his belt buckle, pulling his zipper down. When my palm closes around his cock through his boxers and he groans, my chest surges with pride.
“Good boy,” I murmur, letting his pants pool around his ankles. I push my hands down the back of his boxers, feeling the way his ass flexes under my touch before I drop them, too, to the ground. “Garrett?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to sit down.”
“I—”
Palm on his collarbone, I shove him to the edge of the bed. His lips part, tongue running across, eyes fixed on me as I stand between his legs. I take his hand, grazing my belly with his fingers.
“Want to touch? Or watch?”
He swallows. “Can the answer be both?”
I giggle quietly. “No. It can’t.”
I open my bedside drawer, fingers fluttering over my favorite rainbow before wrapping around the one I’m looking for. Garrett said he wanted to fuck me with this, but I want to show him how I can fuck myself with it.
His breath stutters when I turn back to him. “Jennie, I—ho-ly fuck.” He drags his hands down his face in slow motion when I slap the suction cup base to the floor, right between his legs. “Are you gonna—you’re not gonna—right there? Oh my—I-I-I-I—I think I’m broken. Short-circuiting. Put me in rice. Is it a good time or a bad time to tell you I love you?” He laughs anxiously. “Holy-fuck-shit I think I really love you right now.”
My God, he’s the most endearing, adorable, and lovable human I’ve ever encountered. Nobody makes me smile like he does.
The bra goes first, satin straps slipping off my shoulders, dropping to Garrett’s lap before I hook my thumbs in my panties and shimmy them over my hips.
He clutches my underwear to his chest as I guide his legs wider, and when I hit the power on Indiana Bones, making him dance, Garrett’s hand closes around mine, stopping me.
“Do you need lube or something?”
I guide his hand between my legs, swiping his fingers through my center, where I’m absolutely drenched. He groans, and when I lift his glistening fingers, I ask, “What do you think, Garrett?” Based on the strangled sob that leaves his lips when I slowly suck his fingers into my mouth, I think he might be dying. “Do I need lube?”
“No,” he croaks.
“No,” I agree, collecting my wetness on the tips of my fingers, stroking slowly over my toy, coating it.
On my knees between Garrett’s legs, I guide the head of the cock to where I want this man before me most. Every thought leaves my brain as I ease myself down the length of it, moaning as it stretches me.
“Jesus fucking fuckballs.” Garrett’s fingernails bite into the flesh of his thighs. “I-I-I—I’m in heaven. I’m dead. Am I dead?”
God, it’s so deep, and when it pulses inside me, hitting that spot, I fall toward his lap, gripping his thighs, crying out. “Garrett.”
“Oh my God. I’m not dead.” He fists my hair, eyes wild as I pick myself up and drop, again and again, slowly, enjoying every aching second of it. “How the fuck are you real?”
Finding my rhythm, I wrap my fist around Garrett’s eager cock. Gazes locked, I drag my tongue along the underside of his rock-hard length before I swallow the tip, and my mouth slides down, down, until his cock hits the back of my throat.
Garrett’s head lolls back as he whimpers, and when he rights it again, large hands bracket my face as he stares down at me, watching. “You are a goddamn masterpiece.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted something as much as I want to give myself to Garrett. I’ve given him pieces; now I want him to have the rest.
It’s been on my mind for a while. But I’ve never been sure I was ready, and that told me I wasn’t. And that was okay. He didn’t need anything else from me, only what I was willing to give. For once in my life, I was enough.
I’ve never been enough for anyone except myself. Garrett changes all of that. I never knew how much I needed someone like him until I found him, and I don’t think he realizes how grateful I am to have him.