I wonder what she’s thinking about all this. I wonder if she’ll be upset that this happened, or if it will only be me that was so affected. I decide not to think about it anymore. It doesn’t matter, not as we tumble through the door. I push Jessica down on my large bed and she lands on her back, bouncing on the mattress. Her legs, hanging over the edge, immediately spread, and I step between them, reading the clear invitation that she’s giving me. I slowly run my hands up her body, feeling each bend and curve in her skin and my erection presses against her thigh, straining to be inside her as soon as it can.
Jessica’s legs wind around my waist and she locks her ankles at the small of my back, dragging me in. Her hands are on my arms and her nails are scraping my skin as she tries to find a good grip on me. She’s panting heavily, her eyes rolling, feeling my hot, throbbing penis near her entrance as she seeks her own release. Fuck, how is it we can be so physically dependent on one another while we can barely hold a pleasant conversation anymore?
“Fuck, Jessica,” I groan. “This is so hot. I’m going to fuck you so hard. Are you ready for me?”
“Just fuck me already,” Jessica gasps.
I line myself up carefully at her entrance. Last chance to back out, though maybe we are too far gone already. But this is really it. There’s definitely no turning back. I contemplate it for a split second.
Then I decide that I’m so desperate for release that I simply don’t care.
I sink slowly into her body. She tenses and then forcefully relaxes herself, hips jerking slightly as she tries to take more of me in. When I’m fully seated in her, she gasps, her eyes rolling back, and I pause, wanting to give her a moment to adjust to me being in her. When she twitches a moment later, though, I take that as my cue.
I pull myself out slowly. Then, meeting and holding Jessica’s gaze, I thrust back in hard.
There’s no time for going slow. It’s fast and it’s hard, and I piston my hips in and out of her as she cries out, trying desperately to hold on or meet the pace I’ve set. Her body jerks beneath me, and her hips clumsily thrust with mine. The mattress creaks beneath us and the bed shakes as I brace my arms on either side of her body, sweat pouring down her face. I took too much time teasing her and, inadvertently, teasing myself. Neither of us are going to last much longer at all. Already, I can see black spots in my vision.
“Fuck, fuck,” Jessica is chanting, barely able to catch her breath. Her whole body is shaking, and I know she’s very close to the edge. One good shove will be enough to tip her over.
I angle my body and thrust back in. She screams against me, throwing her head back, and I know I’ve found her g-spot. Her inner muscles clench unbearably as her body jerks, and my vision whitens as my orgasm follows hers, her body milking every last drop out of me.
Slowly, the spots clear out and I pant, trying to catch my breath. I pull out of Jessica and she slumps bonelessly on the bed, her own breath catching in her throat. I fall down beside Jessica and stare up at the ceiling.
“Shit,” Jessica finally says.
I can’t help but snort.
“Yeah,” I agree. I pause. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“Yeah,” she says with a nod, repeating my casual attitude. “Sounds good.”
I scoot upwards, catching her elbow to pull her with me. Then I slip under the covers. After a moment of hesitation, Jessica gets into bed too.
It’s probably a mistake, considering how badly this situation is going to get when we discuss it. But I’m too tired to care, and not so much of a jerk that I would deliberately send her out in the rain when she can hardly keep her eyes open.
No, we’re just going to lay here and go to sleep. We can talk about it when we wake up… If, of course, Jessica is still here.
Chapter Eighteen
Jessica
I wake up slowly. My body is aching pleasantly and, for the first time in days, my mind is clear. I hear the sound of heavy breathing beside me, and I turn to see Grant lying beside me on his side, his f
ace peaceful and relaxed in sleep.
It would be easy, I think, to leave the bed and run away. It was what I did on that fateful Friday night that Grant and I came face to face for the first time in three years. This time, the urge is even greater; even in the midst of passion, the agony on Grant’s face had been hard to bear. He both wanted me and hated me, but, like me, he can’t control himself. We simply can’t pull ourselves from this terrible dance that we both know the steps to and cannot halt, no matter what we do.
If I run now, that would be it. There would definitely be no more chances, and I wouldn’t deserve them, no matter how much I begged. I came to Grant last night, asking for a chance, any chance, and I count myself lucky that he even allowed me in the door. If I flee now, then I’ll be ruining all the progress I’ve made.
I wonder, for a moment, if it will be worth it. Maybe a forceful separation is what we both need. No contact other than anything to do with Owen, as Grant originally demanded. It’s what we both wanted, at some point.
But I don’t move.
Because Grant might have been angry with me and himself last night, but there had been desperation in his touch, begging me to stay with him and stop leaving him. Grant deserves more than me constantly running away on him.
So, instead of getting up and searching for my clothes, I snuggle further into the covers instead, daring to shift a little closer. He murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t wake, and I sigh in relief. I’m not ready to face him right now.
On the bedside table, my phone vibrates. I glance at it, wondering who’s messaging me at this time of the morning. Though it isn’t that early, I realize, glancing at the clock to see that it’s around eight-thirty. Slowly, not wanting to disturb Grant, I pick up my phone and check the message.