Soon we’re both touching and kissing and licking each other’s bodies, our legs entwined, Jen’s fingers curled around my cock. I’m desperate to sink deep inside her warm, welcoming body, to pound my way to orgasm while getting lost inside her, but I’m taking it slow. Easing up to this because she deserves nothing less than the very best that I can give her.
I can only hope I don’t disappoint her.
“I want you inside me,” she whispers when we’re long minutes into this agonizing torture. She crawls over me, her face in mine, her fingers still gripping my erection.
Smoothing my hands down her back, I caress the soft, plump flesh of her ass. “Grab a condom out of the drawer.”
She glances toward the bedside table and reaches out, pulling open the drawer and withdrawing a condom wrapper. Moving away, she opens the condom, kneeling in front of me as she holds the tiny rubber ring poised in front of my cock. “Can I put it on?”
“Hell yeah,” I mutter, entranced by the look on her face, the glow in her eyes. She leans over my erection, her hair shielding her face since I removed the band and set her ponytail free only minutes earlier. Her fingers dance along my length, tracing the tip before she settles the condom over the head. She slowly rolls the condom on, stroking me as she does, and my eyes threaten to roll back in my head, it feels so damn good.
We’re teasing, tormenting each other like we’ve done for so many years. Instead this time, we’re na**d, wrapped around each other and trying to drive the other crazy with wanting. Until I can’t take it any longer and I roll her over so she’s beneath me, her long legs spread, my h*ps nestled in between her thighs, my c**k thrusting toward the very center of her.
Sweat beads my brow as I study Jen, my hands braced on either side of her head. Her dark hair is spread across the pillow, her velvety brown eyes slumberous, that plush, sexy mouth swollen from my punishing kisses. She runs her hand down the center of my chest, my stomach, her fingers teasing my navel, then drifting farther south to trace the trail of hair that leads to my aching erection.
“You say I’m beautiful, but you’re the beautiful one,” she whispers, her gaze locked on my chest, seemingly entranced. “I could touch you like this all night.”
“And drive me out of my ever-lovin’ mind,” I mutter, earning a big smile for my comment.
“Oh, we can’t have that.” She slips her hand around my hip, pulling me in, and then I’m sliding inside of her body, my c**k enveloped by her hot, wet depths. I slowly sink deep, deeper, until I’m fully embedded inside her. Our bodies are perfectly aligned, chests pressed together, h*ps nestled close.
I close my eyes. Clench my jaw. It’s taking everything within me not to let loose and come like a geyser at this very moment, like some sort of inexperienced teen who can’t keep it together. She wraps those long-as-hell legs around me, sending me deeper, and I groan, the familiar tingling already starting at the base of my spine.
No. I refuse to come now. I gotta make this first time good for her. For us.
Watching our connected bodies, I slide out of her almost completely before I push back inside. Again and again I enter her, keeping my pace slow, intoxicated by the sight of my c**k disappearing inside her body again and again. Her h*ps arch as she tilts her head and bows her back. She closes her eyes as she moves with me, her h*ps circling, tiny little whimpers sounding in the back of her throat.
I could thrust in her hard once, maybe twice, and I’d blow, no problem. But she seems to still be working for it. No way am I going to let go before ensuring that she’s come again. “Touch yourself,” I whisper.
She stills, her eyes flying open, dark and fathomless as she frowns. “What?”
“Touch yourself, Jenny. Make yourself come with me inside you,” I encourage, wanting to see her do it. My skin gets hot and tight just thinking about her fingering her clit, making herself come all over my cock.
Sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip, she reaches between us, her index finger brushing against her clit, the tip nudging against my cock. I groan and start to pump harder, noticing that she keeps the same pace as she glides her finger over her clit. Until we’re both straining toward it, reaching for it . . .
An agonized groan falls from my lips in the sound of her name as I thrust once, hard as hell, sending me so deep I’m afraid I’ll rip her apart. But she clings to me, her entire body shaking, my name being whispered again and again, so I let go. Let loose.
Let my orgasm take over me completely.
Now we’re clinging to each other, only the sound of our loud breathing filling the room. My skin is covered in sweat, as is hers, and I start to move away from her but she tightens her arms around me, her fingers digging into my back as if she doesn’t want to ever let me go.
“Stay for a minute,” she murmurs against my chest, her lips tickling my skin, making me shiver.
“I’m crushing you,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I like it. You feel good, crushing me,” she admits, her voice soft and sleepy-sounding.
Fuck. I don’t know what to say. What to do. In the aftermath I’m usually the one who’s hopping out of bed, getting rid of the condom, and hustling my ass out of there. I never bring women home. I made the mistake of that once long, long ago when I was successfully running my first restaurant in Southern California. The woman took one look at my decent apartment near the beach and decided she was ready to set up and play house permanently.
Had to nip that in the bud real quick. That one terrifying moment made me swear off ever bringing a woman back to my place. And now I have one living with me. One who wants to leave while I’m desperate for her to stay.
Everything’s different with Jen. We have a history. An intricate past that I don’t want to ruin with a relationship destined to end. She’s leaving and I won’t stop her. It doesn’t matter if the sex between us is phenomenal. She wants out.
So I’m letting her go.
Finally, she releases her hold on me and I head into the bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash, glancing at myself in the mirror. I don’t look any different, though I definitely feel it. I see the same ol’ pretty face looking back at me that I sort of hate if I’m being truthful. This face gets me into trouble. It’s easier to get what you want when you have a pretty face, right? And I don’t need any help with getting into trouble. I can do that on my own, thank you very much.
I’m curious, though. What does Jen see when she looks at me? Someone she cares about? Someone she can easily forget? Both options scare me.
So I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know what she sees. How she feels.
Turning off the bathroom light, I walk back into my bedroom and slip into bed, pulling the covers up over us. She scoots closer to me without a word, her back to my front, and I wrap my arm around her middle, holding her close. She feels damn good. Snug and warm, and fitting perfectly against me. I never want to let her go.
Pulling away from her slightly, I smooth the hair away from her neck, my gaze locked on the tattoo. The blinds are cracked open and the dull glow from the streetlight outside filters into the room, helping me see the delicate, colorful lines of the butterfly.
I trace it, sweeping my finger across her skin, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. Leaning in, I kiss her there, my lips lingering, and she moans softly.
“There’s meaning behind this, isn’t there.” I dart my tongue out for a lick, absorbing her salty-sweet taste. I can’t get enough of her.
“I like butterflies.” She sighs when I squeeze her closer to me. “And yes. There’s meaning.”
“What is it?”
“It represents my wanting to break free of my past.” Her voice hitches and I frown, pressing my chin into her shoulder. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, Colin.”
“I know. I wish you could let them go. No one’s judging you.” I hate what she’s done but I can’t hold her actions against her. She’d been in a tough situation. Confused and alone and damn it, that was partially my fault.
“May—maybe someday I could learn to let them go.” She pauses. “Not yet, but I’m close.”
Damn. My life has been completely changed by this one beautiful, amazing woman that I’ve known since we were kids.
And I’m not sure what to do about it.
Chapter 12
Jen
“You’re glowing.”
I swat Fable’s arm as I walk past her. “I am not.” Crap, I probably am, not that I’d ever admit it, especially to her.
But that’s what happens when you experience an amazing, outrageous all-night sex fest with a man who can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. Or his fingers or his lips or his tongue . . .
A shiver moves through me at the delicious, forbidden memory.
“You so are. That can only mean one thing.”
Stiffening, dread slithers down my spine. I know she’s my best friend and I’ve told her everything that’s happened between Colin and me up until now. But she doesn’t know about this latest chapter in our lives, and I really don’t want to tell her.
She’s never approved one hundred percent of Colin as being the one for me and I don’t want to hear her warnings. She thinks he’s too slick, too much of a charmer to really want anything serious. I’ve always agreed with her. I can’t help but wonder if I’m having a momentary lapse in judgment.
Besides, what happened between Colin and me feels too new, too fragile, to share with anyone but us. I still need to cherish it, process it.
Enjoy it. Alone.
“You found a job, right?” she asks when I don’t say anything.
Relief replaces the dread and I shake my head, trying to hide my smile. I shouldn’t be smiling. I should be incredibly depressed, because how the heck am I going to get out of this stupid place filled with dirty memories that haunt me? I’d forgotten about the shitty interviews from yesterday, my all-night excursion in Colin’s bed wiping out all unpleasant thoughts.
They’re all coming back with a vengeance now.
“I didn’t,” I finally say as I start to wander around the restaurant, lighting all of the candles that sit in the center of the tables. “None of them wanted to hire me.”
“Are you kidding?” She sounds indignant, just like Colin had yesterday. A warm, fuzzy feeling starts in my stomach. Everyone believes in me but me. Maybe I should start paying attention and believe in myself for a change. “Why not?”
I shrug, sticking the long lighter into the glass candleholder and clicking the ignite button. “I’m tired of working as a waitress, so I’m aiming for an office job. Problem is, they want someone with office experience and I don’t have any.”
“But you’re . . . you. You’re awesome. Surely you had a kickass interview and impressed the hell out of them. You’re smart. You look the part. Who wouldn’t want you working for them?” Fable looks completely perplexed and I love her for it.
“I guess I’m not kickass enough, considering they didn’t offer me a job. No one even seemed that interested.” I move from table to table, Fable following behind me, setting the tables with silverware. The two of us are at the tail end of dinner service prep. We’ve been working together so long we’ve established a perfect rhythm.
“So what are you going to do now?” Fable asks after we finish up the last table.
Great question. One I don’t have an answer for. “I guess it’s back to . . . plan A.” Whatever plan A is.
“And that is . . . ?” Her voice trails off as she raises a brow.
The girl can make anyone sweat with one lift of an eyebrow, I’ll give her that. Poor Drew. And poor Owen. Neither of them stood a chance in a fight with Fable. “Um, back to the job hunt. And the apartment hunt. I’m checking out the roommate options on Craigslist.”
“You’re going to room with someone you don’t know? Are you crazy?” Fable shakes her head. “What if they’re a serial killer looking for their next victim and you fit their profile?”
“You worry too much.” I sigh. I can’t stress about that shit and besides, I’ll find someone, a girl who’s close to my age and maybe a college student. I’ve been scanning the listings the last few days and stumbled upon a few good possibilities that I already contacted. I haven’t heard back from them yet, though.
Maybe I’m the one who looks and sounds like a serial killer . . .
Ha ha. I’m funny.
“But Jen . . .”
“Look, Fable.” I round on her, stopping her in her tracks. I’m not angry, but I’m tired of everyone trying to tell me what to do. “I know what I’m doing. It may look risky but I’m not that stupid, trust me. I’m taking all of the proper precautions.”
Fable scrunches her eyebrows together. “I never said you were stupid. I just . . .”
“You’re worried about me. Yeah, I totally get it. I’d be worried about me too. But I’ll land on my feet. I always land on my feet. I’m like a cat.”
“A cat who’s always eventually caught and set on her feet by a certain someone named Colin Wilder,” Fable mutters.
I part my lips, ready to say something sarcastic right back, when I realize he’s nearby. I feel his overwhelming presence. He’s standing behind me—I can smell his intoxicating woodsy clean scent, feel the heat of his body penetrating mine as he steps even closer. I swear his hand brushes against my backside in a discreet caress and a wave of desire crashes through me.