So I’m going to show him.
My fingers find my clit, circling slowly as I ride the cock below me. Cupping Garrett’s balls in my free hand, I massage them lightly, and with a hiss, he jerks his hips forward. His cock slides down the back of my throat, making me gag, and I smile up at him.
Garrett groans, fingers plowing through my hair, gripping it in his fists. “Don’t you fucking look at me like that while you’ve got my cock in your mouth.”
I release him with a pop, and lick the corner of my wet mouth. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll show you exactly what it feels like to be fucked by me when you’re being a fucking brat.”
Gripping the base of his cock, I pump slowly, holding his gaze as I lick a languid stroke along it, swirling around the tip as he hisses above me. My hips rock back and forward, grinding. I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out. “Is that supposed to be a threat, big guy?”
Oh hello, angry Garrett. I’ve hit the jackpot.
One second I’m between his legs with his cock in my mouth, and the next he’s behind me, one hand digging into my waist, the other grasping my wrists tightly behind my back.
He holds me still, keeping me full but stopping me from chasing my high. I whimper, squirming, desperate for relief.
His teeth graze my ear, warm breath sending a shiver of desire down my spine. “What’s the matter, sunshine? You wanna come?”
“I can make myself come.”
“You sure can. But when I’m here, I make you come.” A rough hand squeezes my breast, thumb scraping across my nipple before his fingers dance down my stomach, finding that tight nub that always wants Garrett’s attention. Soft lips touch my shoulder. “The day we fuck is going to be like lightning, Jennie. I’m gonna light up your entire sky, the same way you do mine.”
There’s that tightness in my chest again, the one that’s been there for nearly a month now. It squeezes a little harder every time I’m with Garrett. I don’t know what to do about it. I want to tell him how I feel, to ask him where we go from here. Because I don’t know. This is all so new to me, and I feel inexperienced, overwhelmed. The truth is I’m fucking scared.
Scared the sex won’t satisfy him. Scared he’ll get bored. Scared it won’t work and we won’t be able to stay friends. Scared it will work, but somebody won’t like it.
I’m tired of being scared. I just want to be happy.
Garrett’s chin comes to rest gently on my shoulder, his hand on my jaw as he turns my face to his. He smiles, so handsome I think my chest might break wide open.
“Hi,” he whispers against my lips. “I hope you know you’re beautiful.” He kisses the tip of my nose, the apple of my cheek, down my neck, and along my jaw. He stops at my ear, and my nerve endings dance when he grips my chin, holding me there. “But I’m still gonna show you what it feels like to piss me off.”
With a punishing hold on my hips, he slams me down on the rubber cock. I fall forward with a scream, clawing at the floor, and his chest vibrates with a sinister growl. Then his open palm hits my ass, and when I come, I scream all over again.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he murmurs darkly as he maneuvers my body, pushing and pulling, taking and giving. Jesus Christ, does the man ever give. Fingers wrap around my throat, yanking me up to him, holding me against his solid chest as he works me over, thrusting, plunging, driving. “I can’t wait to see how perfectly you fit my cock. Can’t wait to see your beautiful face the first time I come inside you.”
A tingle starts low in my belly, spreading like wildfire through every fiber as my vision blurs. I writhe in his grasp as a second orgasm barrels toward me head-on, and when he whispers “Come for me” in my ear, he does exactly what he promised to do: makes my sky explode.
Fluorescent colors streak across my field of vision, lighting my world. My words dissolve until they’re nothing but garbled, nonsense sobs, and I collapse against Garrett’s body.
He sweeps me into his arms and stands, carrying me to the shower where he washes me tenderly beneath the warm spray. I can’t find it in me to speak a single word until we’re wrapped in blankets on my living room couch twenty minutes later, eating bowls of Corn Pops with my back against his chest.
“I got my ticket for your recital.”
I spin, nearly knocking his bowl onto my own head. “You did?”
“Mhmm. Can’t wait.”
I’m excited too. All my favorite people will be there, watching from the audience, and Garrett’s my favorite of all.
“I know we’re going for dinner afterward to celebrate with everyone—”
“For Carter’s birthday,” I clarify.
Garrett rolls his eyes. “He says to celebrate you; you say to celebrate him. I think we can celebrate you both.”
“Beckett’s don’t share center stage, Garrett.”
He chuckles softly and takes my bowl after he sets his down, draining the milk. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could do something afterward. Just the two of us.”
“We always do something with just the two of us.”
“Right. But this would be different.” His gaze bounces away, then back.
“Different how?”
“I donno.” He lifts a shoulder. “Special.”
“Special how?”
His throat works and his eyes track the lock of my hair that he twirls around his finger.
“Special how, Garrett?”
“Like a date, maybe. For Valentine’s Day. If you want.”
“If I want?” My heart gallops, a grin blooming. “Do you want?”
He licks his lips, tentative gaze meeting mine, and nods. “Yeah. I want.” He clears his throat and goes for it: word vomit, my favorite of his specialties. “I know it’s two weeks away, but I leave in two days for another road trip, and then I’m only home for one night, and we fly home again the day before the recital, so there’s not much time beforehand, and I know I said something special but we can’t really go anywhere because it’s a secret and all that but I thought maybe we could just make it special, like if we both don’t order dessert at the restaurant we could have it together instead and set up a picnic or something, maybe with candles and pillows and I donno, and you don’t have to get me a gift or anything, but I thought maybe it would be nice to, like…” He inhales a shaky breath and lets it go. “Have a real date.” He scratches his temple and winces. “That was rough, wasn’t it?”
“It was terrible,” I confirm. “But I think I can squeeze you in.”
His eyes flit down to mine, face flush with color, and he smiles. “Yeah?”
I smile too. “Yeah.”
“Grool.” He cringes. “Holy fuck. I did the Mean Girls thing. I started to say great but finished with cool.”
Snickering, I turn, slinging my arms around his neck. “You’re tired. You need to sleep.”
He sighs, squeezing my ass. “You’re right.”
I roll off him, taking the bowls to the kitchen. I find Garrett at the door, slipping his shoes on and doing up his pants.
“You’re going?”