Sloppy
Kenna
Graceful under normal circumstances is not a word to describe me. Drunk, I am a hot mess. The room spins around me as recognition of my words to Jake consumes me. I didn’t mean to let that slip. Calm, cool, collected Kenna was who I was supposed to stick to, not blubbering, heartbroken mess Kenna Jean. I haven’t called him Jakey since high school. What the hell?
Before I make it to our bed, Jake is pulling me toward him, his kiss consuming me, while I’m all slobber and tongue, drunk, and not caring. There is nothing seductive or sexy in the way I begin pawing at Jake’s clothes. They are preventing me from being skin to skin with him.
I want this man. I need this man—his love, his heart, his comfort, his connection. He is my all.
He pulls away, leaving my mouth hanging open, still trying to kiss him.
“I don’t love you enough, huh?”
Then he’s on me again, now with his shirt off and mine, too, somehow. He’s got me completely naked against the wall before I can even think. He lifts me, wrapping my legs around him as he slams into me. Oh, my goodness, mother of everything good in this world, this is hard, fast, and good.
Take me. Let me die right here.
I am a happy freaking woman.
The pace is relentless, and my head is spinning from my buzz and the euphoria of my building orgasm. My entire body is liquid, at Jake’s mercy.
He drops his head, licking, sucking, and nipping at that sweet spot in the curve of my neck, sending me over the edge.
“Not done yet, angel. Drunk or not, you will know just how much I love you before I’m through,” he growls against my neck in that oh so sweet spot, driving me wild from the vibrations of his voice.
If someone asked me my name right now, my answer would be “Ooooohhhhhhh.”
He places me on our bed, and then he is everywhere, all over me, entering my core again and sending aftershocks throughout my body. I don’t know how he hasn’t gone over the edge, but I’m certainly not going to complain.
When he begins caressing and kissing my breasts, I am lost to the sensations. There is a gentle tug at my nipple before he comes down with his mouth, sucking hard. Through the pain, I am sent over the waterfall again.
Damn, multiple orgasms are the shit! I was a pool of liquid before, but now I am floating in an ocean of emotion.
Jake seems focused, determined, like this is a mission. I can read the self-control on his beautiful face. He is trying to make his point through my body. Meanwhile, the only thought I manage to form is, He sure has communicated quite well with me.
He slows, every touch now deliberate and delicate as I tremble uncontrollably. Then he nuzzles my neck and shoulder, and I finally feel his warm seed spread through me.
“I love you, angel. Don’t ever think you aren’t enough or my love isn’t enough. All I am is for you. All I have is yours,” he whispers.
I’m unable to speak or stop the tears from rolling down my face, so I merely nod against him, letting him know I understand.
He kisses my tears away as he pulls out of me. Turning us both on our sides, he then holds me to him, my back to his front, as I literally pass out.
***
Jake
My intention was not to push either of us that hard, but I needed her to feel the intensity of my love for her. Morning will come all too soon, and then I will have to face her with all those insecurities she is obviously feeling.
This is the worst pain I ever felt. The entire situation with Kenna is killing me. I never knew I could hurt this badly. I’m all tied in knots over the thought of losing her.
It’s not enough for her anymore. Sober or drunk, it doesn’t matter. This is how she feels.
Everything is slipping away from me.
I have been around guys overseas when they got news from home about their relationships ending. Some get angry and hit something, some are quiet, and some guys even let it go and cry. When you are deployed and your wife or girlfriend ends it, you are helpless. There is nothing you can do. It’s completely out of your control.
If I could get over my hang up with marriage, neither of us would be feeling this hurt right now.
Instead of sleeping, I hold Kenna close, finding comfort in her warmth. How many more nights will I get to hold her? Can I actually marry her?
I let the thoughts and emotions consume me, and before I am conscious of it, my pillow is wet with my tears.
Never have I been so conflicted over my decision to avoid marriage. Everyone jokes that we are an old married couple, but I find comfort in the simple fact that we aren’t actually married. If you don’t actually have something, then you can’t lose it. By not getting married, we can never get divorced.
I prepare myself for what the morning will bring, knowing Kenna’s hangover will be the least of our pain.