My mouth curves downwards as I run my index finger over his lips. If I show him pity, he’ll hate me. Forever. “Thank you for not giving me shit about Shane. You're awesome.”
He presses his warm, moist lips into my finger, staring into my eyes. “You bet your hot ass I am.”
Heart’s throbs are piercing my ears, Brain swirls in a pool of sticky goo, and Hormones are dry-humping Ty’s leg. I take a deep breath and get out of the car, walking toward his house and stopping just as I reach his fence. One, new pair of underwear is tucked in the links. Oddly, I don't go ballistic this time. I placed my trust in his hands a few weeks ago, and he's yet to let me down.
Ty is by my side, and the next thing I know he’s slamming his body into mine and his hands are roaming my waist and thighs. It’s late at night, but people are still walking past us, cars passing by. Ty doesn’t care. He nudges my thighs apart, grabs my ass forcefully and raises me up. I knot my legs around his tight abdomen and we mold into each other.
My fingers curl into the holes of the fence when he fists my top into a ball behind my back. His warm tongue finds mine. Ty tastes good. Fresh and sweet and manly. He sends his free hand behind one of my knees, caressing the spot through my jeans. I didn’t even know I was sensitive there. I’m about to explode into a loud scream, my core quivering against his body, and I dig my nails into his back to signal I’m ready for the homerun. He bites my neck, his teeth sending a shiver down my spine.
He whispers into my collarbone, "You are mine, and you better tell that to Shane, or I will. And I won't be nice."
It’s a good thing I’m about half his size, because I’m tempted to punch him. I just nod my agreement. Yeah, whatever. I'll deliver the message. My fingers caress Ty's tight abs, exploring the hills and valleys of his six-pack.
“Fuck,” he whispers into my mouth, tugging my head back. He sucks on my throat, my hair in his fist. His other hand, still clutching my top from behind, rips the fabric in one go. I hear the material tear and feel the chill of the metallic fence against my bare back.
Ladies and gents, I’m officially half-naked.
Quick recap to those of you who haven’t paid attention: I’m in my bra, thighs wrapped around an XWL fighter, dry humping him in the middle of a city street.
Yes, I need to take a long, hard look at my life.
No, tonight is not the time for it.
“I should be mad at you, but I can't, and that annoys the hell outta me.” He lowers his head, letting out a frustrated groan. His eyes are trained on my lips. They are dark, full of want, and holding dirty promises. “Come on, baby. Let’s just get you inside.”
I moan into his mouth. He holds me by my ass and carries me into his house swiftly. When he kicks the door open, it rattles on its hinges. He takes me to his bedroom and drops me right next to his bed. We stand in front of each other, panting like two marathon runners on their last few hundred yards. My knees are wobbly. There’s a warm vortex in my pelvic region. I’m flushed, I’m devastated,
I f*cking need him.
“I meant what I said. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep things from you.” My voice is barely audible.
“I know.” His fingers vanish in my hair, kneading my head, making me feel dizzy, drunk, crazy. "It's a weird-ass thing, though. I get mad so easily, but I can't stay mad at you, even for a minute."
His forehead collapses onto mine. Join the club, I want to tell him. I know I’m totally ignoring crucial things, like the fact that he has enough f*ck-buddies for a lifetime. Countless Nicoles, remember? Or Shane's vandalized car. I'm a pathetic mess.
"We should probably talk about Shane," I suggest. But I'm hoping talking is not on his agenda right now.
“Okay. I just need one…” His lips crush mine hungrily. “Small…” He bites my lower lip. “Taste.”
He stares down at me for a second before thrusting me with a gentle push back onto his mattress and rumpled sheets. We never spend enough time out of bed to find time to make it. He kneels before me. His mouth runs all over my stomach, his fingers unhooking my bra, and then his face dips lower.
“From one to ten, how much do you like these jeans?” His warm breath is tracing a path below my belly button…lower…lower…and melting every functional brain cell I still possess. And there aren’t that many left after the last few weeks.
How the hell am I supposed to recall what pair of jeans I’m wearing? I can barely remember my own name.
“Minus eleven,” I grunt, firming my grip on the sheets.
Plink, plink, plink. I hear what I think are the buttons of my jeans hitting the hardwood floor. Jesus Christ, he actually shredded my jeans from my body. I look down to confirm my suspicion.
My jeans are now a heap of fabric, resting near the foot of the bed, buttons nowhere to be seen. Ty inspects my underwear, a baby-blue cotton pair, nowhere near as interesting as the bimbo thongs that hung on his fence. He rips my panties from my body with his teeth. His mouth grazes my sex, making every hair on my body stand. He grabs the pillow next to my head and shoves it underneath my butt, tucking his huge shoulders between my thighs.
“Oh, God!” I yelp as his tongue runs over my entrance, top to bottom. My thighs are trembling and my core is about to explode. Ty sends one hand to stroke my nipples, and digs in, his mouth and tongue giving me no escape. He picks up intensity and speed gradually, sucking on my clit and using his fingers with his free hand.