Dear life, p.23
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       Dear Life, p.23

           Meghan Quinn
 

  “It’s all right.” I step in, linking our hands together. Lovingly, I kiss the inside of her wrist and say, “We can just go to sleep.”

  I attempt to pull her toward the bed but she resists. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

  “Hollyn—”

  “No, don’t analyze this. Just let me be in the moment, let me explore these feelings I’m having.”

  Her eyes plead with me, begging to listen to her rather than follow the protective instinct I feel toward her.

  “Please . . .”

  Fuck me. Those lips, those eyes, the way she’s squeezing my hand. How can I say no to that? I want to be the chivalrous knight she needs, helping her through these new stages in her life by guiding her, but I also want to taste her, every fucking inch of her.

  Again, I’m weighing the options between my selfishness and what I think is good for her, but before I can voice my concerns one more time, she’s pushing me down on the bed and crawling on top of me, her legs straddling my torso.

  My arms fly out to the side, her hands find the hem of my shirt and drag it up my stomach, exposing the hard work I’ve put in at the gym. Glancing up at me, there is lust in her eyes as her fingers dance with my six-pack, raising awareness in my aching cock. Scratch awareness. Just raising my aching cock.

  It’s hard to stop, to slow myself down, but with Hollyn’s panty-clad ass resting on top of my lap, I know she can feel me hardening under her. There is no hiding it, especially with her fingers smoothing over my muscles, finding the underside of my pecs, brushing them lightly until her nails scrape along my nipples.

  And fuck, that feels so damn good.

  “Christ,” I mutter.

  Every part of my body wants to flip her onto the bed, her back against the mattress, her legs spread, my body perfectly aligned with her, but I refrain. This isn’t about my need to be barbaric, almost raw with the woman. This is about giving her the reins in taking the next step in her life, allowing her to prove her existence for today.

  Lifting up only briefly, I aid in her taking my shirt off, only for her to toss it to the side and take in my naked chest. Her hands fall to my shoulders, grazing my biceps, testing their width, their strength, until she brings her hands to my forearms and then to my fingers where she guides them to the hem of her shirt. I’m getting a great view of her thighs from how the shirt has ridden up on her, and judging from the need I can sense, I’m about to get another great view. A view I’ve been dying to see.

  I don’t jump forward. I don’t rip the damn thing off like I want to. I wait, patiently as she lets my fingers dance with the fabric. She seems unsure, indecisive about her next move. From the shift in her eyes, it’s obvious she’s giving herself a pep talk. If only I could read that pretty little head of hers.

  Is she nervous?

  Does she want to do this with someone else?

  Is she thinking of Eric. . .

  After a few minutes, she startles me by jumping in, just like she said she was going to do. Instead of letting me help her, she disrobes herself in one swift movement, exposing her bare breasts into the moonlit night.

  Christ. So perfect. Small, perky, just an ideal little handful. I could spend hours with her in this exact position, me starring up at her, taking in ever little inch of her skin.

  Sensually, lust now reentering her eyes, she reaches up to her head, undoes the bun her hair was tied in, and lets the strands cascade down her shoulders in a wave of red. Hell, if it’s not the most seductive thing I’ve ever seen, the silky curtain framing her beautiful features.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Hollyn.” The words slip out naturally because the statement couldn’t be more true. This isn’t about me trying to impress her; this isn’t about a quick and dirty fuck. This is about the connection we’ve made over the past two months. This is about the undeniable force that has brought us together to not only to help one another, but to help heal.

  “It’s been a long time, Jace,” she admits, leaning forward, her forearms on the side of my head, her breasts brushing against my bare chest. The feeling is so sensual—so damn erotic—that I have to take a few deep breaths, willing myself to settle, to let her take control.

  “I know, babe.” I’m gentle, sincere, careful with every word that comes out of my mouth. “You’re in charge. I won’t do anything unless you initiate it.”

  “What if I want you to take charge?”

  I shake my head. “No, Hollyn. This is your show. You lead me. I don’t want to overstep.”

  Growing even more serious, she pins me with her gaze. “And I don’t want you to treat me like porcelain. I’m broken, Jace. You’re broken. Heal both of us. Take control and make us feel again. Make us know what it’s like to live again, at least for a few moments in time.”

  “Hollyn, you don’t know how hard it is right now for me to hold back.”

  “Don’t.” Her hand goes to my lap, her fingers getting dangerously close to my erection. “I want to know what it’s like to be intimate again. Remind me, Jace.” She lifts her bottom half for a brief second, and my body hates the lost connection until her hands grip my cock through my shorts.

  Eyes closed, strain in my neck and chest, curses rest on the tip of my tongue, the feeling of her small hand wrapped around me, fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Let go,” she whispers. “Let go and take me, Jace.” With one more squeeze, she’s on her back, my body hovering over her small body, her hair spanned across the grey comforter decorating my mattress.

  I take one final moment to look her up and down, to soak in the way her breasts sway with her squirming; her tight, hardened nipples looking for relief; her pouty, full lips needing bruising from my rough jaw. I thought I knew what sexy was, fuck was I wrong. Hollyn, in this moment, is the fucking sexiest sight I’ve ever seen in my life, and hell if the ice-cold block around my heart cracks for this woman. I know, once I fully insert myself inside her, my life will never be the same. She’s a game changer, a life-altering presence that is going to consume me.

  I only hope it’s in the best way possible.

  Forget everything. Ethan, Rebecca, Hope, forget it all. Be in this moment.

  Lowering down, I don’t tread lightly, I give her what she wants: healing, intimacy, a reason to live again.

  Our lips crash together, our tongues tangling in a frantic mess, her hands to my hair, pulling, tugging, begging to be closer. Our hips grinding together, our legs weaving in and out, our soft moans ringing through the silent night air. Everything is connected, every inch of our bodies rubbing against each other in a sexually-charged harmony.

  There is no finesse; there is no holding back. It’s a fumbling mess of the rest of our clothes being peeled off, of our bodies pulsing together, searching for relief. Relief away from the torturing demons hovering over our heads.

  I cup her breasts, pinch her nipples, loving every gasp, every fucking moan coming from her lips. Her nubs so hard, so small, so pointed against my fingers. My cock swollen, seeking her warmth. Need feeling the air, our breaths mingling together.

  She squeezes my length, moving her palm over the tip, squeezing so damn hard that I lose my breath. Fuck, I might lose it all right now.

  Together, we roll on the bed, squirming, rotating, her skin pressing together, sweat soaking every inch of us, our mouths never once parting, our tongues never once giving in.

  I want to pull away, I want to lick and kiss every square inch of her, but I can’t seem to control my mouth. All I want to do is make out with this woman, find solace with her lips, find ease within our not-so-dry—yet wet—humping. My cock dances dangerously with her slick pussy, with her leg, with her belly button as we continue to move.

  But nothing is good enough as we scramble.

  I need more. We both need more.

  “Condom,” I mutter in her mouth. “Now.”

  Putting distance between us, I disengage the tangling of our bodies, and fly to the pathetic nigh
tstand in my apartment for a condom.

  Once in hand, I tear the wrapper with my teeth and sheath myself in seconds. The entire time, my eyes fixed on Hollyn below me, her body slick with sweat, her hair a tangled mess, her cheeks a beautiful rosy red. So fucking sexy.

  Need.

  Yearning.

  An undeniable attraction passes between us.

  We waste no time in reconnecting. This time, her legs spread high and wide, giving me the perfect passageway. And hell, I take it.

  Straining, I lower my forehead to hers, our breaths mixing together as I prop myself up and ease my cock inside her. On her initial gasp, I pause, letting her adjust until she takes a deep breath.

  So tight. So right.

  She melts into the mattress and urges me forward. I take that as she’s ready for more, so I bury myself deep within her, never once letting this moment slip from my memory.

  “Oh God!” she screams, her hands gripping on to the back of my neck, her mouth immediately seeking mine as she rolls her hips. Sweat starts to mingle together, heat roaring between the both of us.

  One thrust and a squeeze. Another thrust and. . .God my cock is so swollen, pulsing.

  Fucking hell, she’s taking no time at all, so I match her need, pumping my hips into hers.

  Slapping of skin fills the room, our connection electrifying the night, bursts of pleasure surrounding us, as our mouths never break, our tongues mating.

  Push and pull. Push and pull. In and out of her. My body reacting to every clench, every sound, every touch of hers, it’s a kaleidoscope of erotic sensations, a feeling I’ve never felt before.

  Her moans, her tight channel sucking me in, barely letting me go, her legs wrapped around me, driving me in deeper.

  It’s all here. Every sensation, every sound, every smell. I could die right now and go to fucking heaven with Hollyn wrapped around me.

  “Oh, Jace,” she moans. “Oh God. I’m going to come.”

  Fuck me. So am I.

  My balls draw up tight, the straining in my neck so intense I feel like I’m going to pop a blood vessel. In the far-off distance, I hear Hollyn call out as she grips me so damn tight that my vision blurs, turning to black as I come so fucking hard I’m pretty sure my dick is going to fall off.

  Her name drips off my tongue, my hips pumping, my cock driving into her until every last drop is gone.

  Slowing down, falling off the biggest high of my life, I open my eyes to see Hollyn gazing up at me, her eyes holding a sense of wonderment in them. At that moment, I realize just how fucked I am.

  I like her.

  Not only do I like her, but I’m falling for her.

  And I’m falling for her so damn hard. I just hope I’m not falling for someone who will never love anyone but her husband, because with my already cracked heart, that might shatter it.

  DAISY

  “Um, I just have to ask one question,” I say, pulling away from Carter’s lips, putting a pause on our make-out session.

  Languid eyes slowly open up as his dark-chocolate irises focus on me. His hair slightly falling forward, and his lips swollen from my kisses.

  My kisses!

  “What’s up? And this better not be one of those questions you asked earlier about where people came up with the term, ‘The birds and the bees.’”

  “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  He sighs in obvious frustration, his hand running through his hair. “It’s all about the bees pollinating and . . . no, we are not going through this again. Just ask your question.”

  “Okay. So, I’ve been through some sexual education. I know some stuff.”

  “Good.” His frustration turns into a sexy smile. “I’m glad you know some stuff.”

  “But I would like some clarification, just one thing.”

  “Just one thing?” he asks, a humorous question in his voice. “Wow, just one thing, you must have been well educated.”

  “Don’t tease me.”

  He holds his hands up in the air in defense. “Not teasing, Snowflake. Just in awe.”

  I bite my bottom lip, which he kisses quickly and says, “Go on with your question so I can get back to playing with these sexy-as-hell lips.”

  Gah, butterflies take off in my belly, sending shivers through my bones. He makes me giddy.

  Gathering my wits, I say, “Okay, but don’t make fun of me.”

  “I promise, I won’t. What’s your question?”

  Feeling incredibly nervous, I take a deep breath. “That thing pressing against my thigh, is that your boner?”

  Pausing briefly, a tilt to his head as he studies me, I wait for him to respond, hoping and praying I don’t sound like a complete idiot. As if in slow motion, the corner of his lips turn up toward the sky, his lips parting and showing off his teeth, his bright smile beaming down at me.

  “You’re asking if my boner is pressing against your leg?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why don’t you reach down and find out.”

  Without even having to look in a mirror, I know my ears, cheeks, and neck are turning bright red from the way everything heats up.

  Reach down and find out? That seems so brazen and yet, I want to do it.

  “From the look in your eyes, I know you want to.” His body shifts so he’s propping more of his weight on his forearms, giving me a little wiggle room to explore.

  Should I?

  This is so far beyond my comfort zone, I don’t think I’m even in my comfort zone zip code. More like three states over.

  But I’ve never been that girl. Goodness, I’ve never even been this intimate with a man before, would it make me a street walker if I stuck my hand down a guy’s pants when making out with him?

  Can I phone a friend and ask Amanda?

  From the determined and challenging look in his eyes, I’m going to say phoning a friend is out of the question. I’m going to have to make this decision on my own.

  I’m about to answer him when a laugh starts to trickle out of him. He shakes his head at me as if he’s in disbelief. “Snowflake, I so did not expect you to grab my dick. I’m just kidding. But the idea of you even thinking about it is adorable.” Leaning down he kisses me on the nose.

  Adorable. Why does that one word make me feel so tiny? Maybe because it’s something my grams called me. I don’t want to be adorable.

  I want to be sexy, pined after, desired.

  Not adorable.

  “What’s wrong?” Carter asks, looking a little confused by my pause.

  What would a sexy woman do in a moment like this? Lick her lips? Thrust her breasts? Snap her thong?

  Snapping a thong sounds extreme.

  Thrusting breasts? Well he’s practically resting on my breasts, so that would be weird if I tried thrusting them. He would probably think I was trying to get him off me.

  Lick my lips. Hmm . . . I can do that.

  Squinting for sex appeal, I stare into Carter’s eyes and slowly make sure to wet every inch of my lips and the skin around them. I swipe my tongue around my mouth, making sure not only to go clockwise, but to go counter clockwise as well.

  Oh yeah, look at me go . . . sexy Daisy is on the loose—

  Wait, why is his brow furrowed? Why is he pulling farther away from me?

  Is he pulling away . . . oh yes, he must be giving me access to the penis. This is your moment, Daisy. Be the sexy woman you want to be. Don’t hold back.

  Continuing to lick my lips, my hand shoots out from my side, and with a deep breath, I dive in with such force, I surprise myself.

  And I surprise Carter because the man who was once hovering over me, content and happy to make out, is now ram-rod straight on his knees, hands gripping my wrist as my palm and fingers curl around his well-defined crotch.

  What I think is a pleasurable experience for Carter, my hand squeezing his penis, apparently is not a good time for him as he starts to swat at my hand and yell at me in a high-pitched lady voice.

  “Dai
sy, let the fuck go.”

  “What?” I ask, in between licking my lips and giving his penis mini palpitations with my palm.

  Penis Palm Palpitations. I shall search the Internet for such a phrase. Maybe I can copyright it.

  “Let go!” Anger spills from his lips just as he rips my hand away from him.

  “Hey, I was squeezing you.”

  Sitting back on the couch, his arm slung over his eyes, his chest heaving, he says, “I’m well aware of your squeezing. Christ, Daisy.”

  Was that a good Christ or a bad Christ?

  Needing to find out, I crawl over to him. With my approach, he flinches, his eyes opening and his hands going in a protective position over his crotch.

  I’m guessing that was a bad Christ.

  “Was that not sexy?”

  “Do you find castrating me, sexy?”

  “I wasn’t castrating you,” I say, feeling smaller by the minute.

  “Snowflake, your hand was acting like a vise on my penis. What the hell were you trying to do?”

  This is not how my first chance at being sexy was supposed to go. Was the licking of the lips not right? I might have been a little aggressive with grabbing his penis, but once I had hold of it, I didn’t want to let go. It was like a baton in his pants, my hands being the participants in passing it around.

  Knowing I have to answer him, I say, “Um, I was being bold, you know, sexy Daisy.”

  “Sexy Daisy?”

  “Yeah.” Shying away, I sit on the couch next to him, facing the rest of his living room because I’m too shy—horrified—to look him in the eyes. “I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and try to be sexy. From the look of horror in your face, I failed tremendously.”

  “Snowflake, why are you trying to be sexy? You don’t need to be—”

  “I want to be.” I hate feeling as though I need to defend myself. “I’m so sick of you calling me adorable. That’s something a big brother would say about his little sister. I want to be so much more than adorable. I want to be wanted.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see his face soften. He approaches me with a warm embrace, pulling me into his chest so we rest back on the couch, the ceiling in my line of vision. Leaning forward, his breath tickles my ears as he speaks. “Snowflake, you think I don’t want you?”

 
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