Chapter Five
Isaac lives in an apartment complex not far from the college, and it seriously makes me rethink my life choices. I missed out on the college experience, although I did go back to school online to finish a business degree. To me, college sounded a lot like my actual life working in a bar, but with more homework.
Porter suggested I use him and Ry as example for how to get my life together. And it’s starting to look pretty clear that Isaac is not the best route for this. I stand at the entrance to the building, about to turn around and tell the driver to take me back home, but he takes off before I can.
“Damn,” I murmur, and look at the building. The beer buzz I had at the house is gone, and I’m even a little tired. I’m curious, though. How will Isaac react to me showing up on his doorstep. Will he be shy? Flirtatious? I’m about to find out.
I walk in the main double doors, and take the stairs to the second floor. I’m surprised to find my heart racing as I pause in front of his door. I knock, quickly brushing back my hair, shifting in my boots.
The door opens, and I rock back. Isaac stands there, shirtless in a pair of pattern sweatpants low on his hips. Barefoot. His lips part when he sees it’s me, and I even see a slight blush on his cheeks. He’s so cute.
“Hi,” I say. “Sorry I didn’t call first.”
“I don’t mind,” he replies, and opens the door wider for me to enter his apartment. I smile at him, liking how he drags his eyes over me, staying close as I pass through the doorway.
I take in the space. His apartment is well-furnished, and I guess I expected something more temporary. But he has framed art on the walls, a huge television set and dark wood tables. His couch is L-shaped and velvety. I turn around, and find him right there, closing the door.
We stare at each other a moment, and I can see the bulge in his sweatpants, knowing that he’s hard at the sight of me. The fact that I turn him on that much turns me on. I slip out of my jacket, swallowing hard, and Isaac takes it from me, and asks if I want a drink.
“Beer, if you have it,” I say, grateful for the break in the moment. He sets my coat on a chair and crosses into the kitchen. I watch him, admiring his muscles—his broad shoulders, huge arms. Fuck. He’s so sexy.
Isaac pops the top on the beer, and walks it over to me. I take it, narrowing my eyes.
“You’re not going to have one?” I ask, taking a sip. I appreciate a guy with good taste in beer.
“I had a few before you got here,” he admits, flashing me a smile. “I didn’t think you were coming by.”
“Yeah, me either,” I murmur and turn to survey the apartment again. “Your place is cute,” I say.
“Cute?” he asks. He turns to look around as if only just noticing. “I guess it is. Thanks.”
I laugh, and motion to the couch, not wanting to stand around anymore. “Mind if I—?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
We’re awkward, and most of it is my fault. I’m used to setting the rules. My bar. My desires. I haven’t been in guy’s apartment in… well, in a really long time.
I sit and the couch, and I expect Isaac to sit next to me, but he doesn’t. He actually sits on the other side, and picks up a bottle of water from the table, slowing sipping from it.
“How was your night?” he asks.
I explain to him about Ryerson’s life, his fiancé getting knocked up on a washing machine, and how I’m pretty proud of him for finding someone to love who’ll love him back with the same fierceness.
Isaac listens to me talk, resting his head on the couch cushions, his blue eyes twinkling with admiration. I can’t help it, I smile.
“What?” I ask.
“I like how you talk about your family,” Isaac says. “They sound great, but I like how… sweet you sound.”
“Sweet?” I ask with a laugh. “Are you saying I’m not normally sweet?”
“I’m sure you are,” he says. “I know you are. But not like this.” He blinks a little slowly, and I think maybe he’s tired too. I don’t even know what time it is.
“I love my family,” I say. “We’re pretty close. What about you?” I ask, drinking from my beer. “Your sister was here to visit.”
“Arianna and I get along,” he allows, but diverts his eyes. “And I like her fiancé well enough. But my sister doesn’t extend me the same courtesy.”
I furrow my brow, leaning closer to him. Intrigued by this drama. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“Arianna has hated every girl I’ve ever dated. With the exception of one,” he adds as an afterthought.
“Why did she like the one?” I ask.
“Because she was a family friend. Lived down the road from my parents. Established family. A lot of money,” he says, scrunching up his nose like he actually hates the last part.
I am literally none of those things, so if that’s his sister’s standard, she will most certainly hate me, too.
“And how long did you date this dream girl?” I ask teasingly, making him laugh.
“High school,” he says. “And every time I come home, they bring her over like everyone is just waiting for me to come to my senses. It’s… frustrating.”
I’ll admit… I’m a little jealous of this perfect ex-girlfriend. “Why…?” I stop, trying to find the right question. “Do you think you’ll end up together?” I ask. “You know, when you’re done slumming in our little town?”
And although I mean it jokingly, there’s a flash of hurt in Isaac’s blue eyes. “No,” he says very seriously, shaking his head. “I don’t…” He sits up, a little annoyed. “I don’t want to be with Cassandra. And I’m not slumming. Is that what you think?”
“No,” I lean down to set my beer on the coffee table, and turn back to him. “Maybe a bit,” I add honestly. “Especially if you’re going back to Scottsdale.”
“I don’t want to go back there,” he says. “I like it here. I like you.”
He holds my eyes, not shy anymore. He licks his bottom lip, and I feel my muscles tighten, yearning for release.
I ache for him to touch me, and part of it could be jealousy. Or proving a point that I am more than good enough.
My heart is racing, and I see his breathing has quickened, the bulge in his pants more defined. Just imagining him inside me, I shift on the couch, my eyes growing heavy with desire.
“I want you,” I say in low voice. Honesty is the best policy sometimes.
“Good,” he says simply.
I expect him to smile, make a joke, but instead, he sits back against the couch, his arms over the back like he’s inviting me to him. His eyes rake over me, narrowed, and I think he’s about to make me lose my mind.
I pull off my boots, and cross over to his spot on the couch. He leans his head back, gazing up at me, and I climb onto to his lap to face him. He slides his hands onto my hips, grinding me down on his hard cock through our clothes, and I moan audibly.
And then he leans forward, his lips against mine, his tongue in my mouth. Just like before, he envelopes me with more passion than I can even handle. Like he can steal me away, own me. I kiss him back, pressing against him. He takes a harsh breath, and then he kisses my neck, one hand up the back of my shirt to undo my bra, while the other slides over my ass, massaging it and grinding us together.
He is goddamn masterful, and I pull off my shirt and bra before he even gets the chance. He pulls me in close, our bare chests together, and he slows down his kisses. He sucks on my bottom lip, tugging it with his, and then wraps me up and kisses me deeply, thoroughly. I melt against him.
How can he be so good at this? He shouldn’t know me well enough to be this good.
Isaac keeps his arm around my back, and then he lifts me up and spins me around, so I’m sitting on the couch. He slips down to his knees on the floor in front of me, my breath catching. I reach to run my fingers through his dark hair, and he leans in to kiss my belly button, the skin just above my jeans.
I close my eyes, lifting my hips as he slides my pants down my legs and over my feet. He leaves my underwear on, kissing my inner thigh, pausing there so I can feel his hot breath. His hand slides up, cupping my breast and then rolling my nipple between his fingers.
And then his mouth is over my underwear, hot and teasing. He slips his fingers under the fabric as his tongue traces my clit over my underwear. His finger edges inside me, just a bit, just enough to tease me.
“Oh,” I murmur, and close my eyes again. I keep my hand in his hair, keeping him pressed against me. And then his finger starts to move faster, go deeper. I moan, and he breaks contact to rip down my panties, spreading my legs and diving back in. His whole mouth covering me, his tongue lapping at me like he can’t wait.
I scream out, my body bucking, and his tongue dips inside me. I cover my mouth, afraid to be too loud in his apartment, and then his fingers are inside me, and my entire body explodes with an orgasm. He continues licking, and when I open my eyes, I find him watching me. His eyes heavy with desire.
“Bed?” he asks, his words tickling me. I can’t even talk, though. My thighs are literally quivering, and he kisses my clit quickly before standing, his cock straining the fabric of his pants.
He scoops me up, and kisses me. I wrap my legs around his hips, his hands holding my ass. He walks me backwards, and we’re growing frantic, walking toward his door.
I don’t even get a look at this room before he lowers me on the bed, climbing between my legs and pushing me up to the pillows. He runs his hand from my neck, over my breasts, and down between my legs. He worships my skin, my body.
He takes off his pants, and then leans past me to grab a condom out of his drawer. I take it from him, and he watches me as I slip it on. When I’m done, I run my fingers over his member. It’s honestly a beautiful cock, and I lick my lips suggestively. Isaac blows out a breath, shaking his head like I’m something else.
“Next time,” he says, and then takes me by the back of my knees and pulls me toward him.
He looks down, and I love the entire scene. I love him above me, his hand gripping his dick as he slides it over me, measuring its length against my clit. I want him inside me, and I tell him so.
“You’re going to make me come talking like that,” he murmurs, gazing down at my slick folds, sliding himself through again.
“Isaac,” I whisper. And suddenly, the use of his name feels incredibly intimate. He pauses, lifting his eyes to mine like he felt it, too. His expression softens, and he moves so that head of his cock is poised at my entrance.
He leans in slowly, never breaking my gaze, and both our mouths open at the pressure, the glorious tightness.
“Phee,” he whispers in a gasp, sounding helpless. He leans down and kisses me, and then he’s all the way in, sliding out, and then again, harder. “Oh, Phee,” he repeats at my ear.
I slip my hands into his hair, my legs wrapping around him and locking at the ankles. And I don’t want him to just fuck me anymore. I want to be sweet to him. I want to own him. Possess him.
“Isaac,” I whisper between moans, and he holds my thigh to his side, grinding us together as he pumps in and out. I beg him not to stop. I beg him to make me come, even though I’ve already had several orgasms.
He likes when I say his name, and he works harder. He makes it all about me. My every reaction spurs him on, encourages him until we’re both soaking wet.
And as another wave hits me, knocking me out of my head, Isaac moans and thrusts hard and fast. And then he’s collapses over me, his palm on the side of my neck, holding me to him as his body trembles.
“You’re everything,” he says like he doesn’t know he’s talking out loud. “Phee, you’re everything.”
And I nuzzle against his hair, running my fingernails up and down his back lovingly, letting him hold me. And having to admit… that we’re kind of perfect like this.