14. Did We…

FOURTEEN

DID WE…

Dessa

I don't know if it's the alcohol or perhaps I'm drunk on Garrett, but fuck, I need him. Ever since the night in the storage room, he's all I think about. I want him to consume me. With every stroke of his tongue against mine, I know he wants it, too.

I break apart from our kiss and find the hem of his shirt. With one quick tug, I yank it over his head. My fingertips graze over the tan skin of his shoulder and over the colorful ink decorating his chest.

"My turn," he whispers against the shell of my ear. His fingers grip the bottom of my shirt, and I lift my arms so he can remove it. He tosses the fabric over his shoulder. His hooded gaze slowly drifts to my lace-covered chest, his expression heavy with desire. He slowly leans down and places a tender kiss above my heart, sending a wave of warmth through my body.

My breath hitches. The gesture is sweet, and I don't know how to process it, so I tell him the only thing I want right now. "Garrett. Touch me."

I tuck my thumbs into the waistband of my yoga pants and rock back and forth until I've pushed them down my thighs. Garrett takes over and yanks them the rest of the way off. His eyes greedily devour my almost-naked body, as if he's studying me to remember later. I gasp when his mouth is on mine again. My head is swimming in the clouds. It's either from all the alcohol I've consumed or from Garrett. Either way, I don't want it to stop. We're a mess of lips, tongues, and limbs.

His hand snakes up my chest, and his fingers wrap around the base of my throat. He squeezes, but not too tight. I moan into his mouth, loving his hand on me. It's almost possessive, and the thought turns me on even more.

"Tell me if this is too much," he whispers across my lips.

"No. It's good. I like it." My words come out in short pants.

"You're absolutely fucking perfect."

His mouth slants over mine again in a hot, demanding kiss. A burst of stars prickle behind my eyelids and lands directly between my legs. His other hand skates over my thigh, sending a wave of goosebumps to wash over my entire body. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, his fingers brush over my lace-covered pussy. Another moan escapes me before I inch myself closer to the edge, and spread my legs farther apart. He takes my invitation and rubs small circles over my clit. I rock my hips, needing him to touch me more.

He drags the lace to the side. "Hold this. Right here. "

I drop my hand between my legs and hook my finger through the fabric, holding it in place.

His middle finger slides down my slit, causing my body to tremble from the contact. I'm on the edge of begging him to fuck me.

"So fucking wet for me." He circles the pad of his finger around my opening before sliding in. Leisurely, he pumps his finger in and out. "Look how wet you are."

I peer between us, his finger glistening with my wetness. I never imagined Garrett would be a dirty talker, but I also never thought we would be doing this. Again. My breathing grows shallow as I continue to watch as his finger disappears inside of me. That's something else that shouldn't be so hot, but it is. He increases his pace, pumping harder and faster. My mouth falls open and my breath quickens. He pulls out and adds a second finger before he continues to finger fuck me.

"Oh! Oh! Garrett. That feels so good." My eyes drift closed and my head falls back. I imagine it's Garrett's cock inside me. The size isn't comparable to his two fingers, but when his thumb brushes over my clit, I don't care. "Keep going. Don't. Stop." My moans and pants increase with every thrust of his fingers.

"I'm not stopping until you come all over my hand. Then I'm going to lick you clean."

"Oh. Fuck." My nipples tighten. A bolt of electricity hits me straight between my legs. Both my fingers and toes curl as a tsunami of bliss washes over me. I cry out Garrett's name as he continues to spear me with his fingers.

His warm breath skates over my cheek as he murmurs, "I love my name off your lips."

After my orgasm subsides, he pulls his fingers out of me and brings them to his mouth. He licks every last drop of my orgasm off his fingers. "Now it's time to clean you up."

My pussy is still sensitive from the orgasm, so as soon as his tongue hits my clit, it doesn't take long for a second to build. He positions my feet on the counter and spreads my legs even more. With one hand still holding my panties to the side, I use the other to prop myself up. Glancing down, I get a view of dark hair nestled between my legs—hair that belongs to Garrett—and he's eating me out like a starving man. He takes turns between licking me and biting my thigh. My hips buck every time his tongue swipes over my clit.

"I want you for my every meal." His tongue licks the sensitive skin on my thigh before his lips wrap around my clit and suck.

"Oh! Ah! I'm not going to last much longer."

"Come all over my tongue. I want to taste all of you." He continues to roughly lick and suck on my pussy. In a matter of seconds, another orgasm roars through me. This one is more explosive than the last.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes meet mine, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fucking perfection."

"That was… wow." I release the grip on my panties, and they slide back into place.

"How many more orgasms do you have in you?"

"I don't know." I bite down on my lower lip. "But are you going to find out?"

"I never back away from a challenge." With his hand on my waist, he lifts me and tosses me over his shoulder.

I squeal in surprise. "Where are we going?"

His large palm connects with my ass cheek. The echoing slap resonates through my townhouse. I'm enjoying the mixture of roughness and softness he's been showing me. He gently massages the muscle .

"Somewhere a little more comfortable."

When we reach the living room, he bends over and deposits me on the couch. I brush the hair out of my face and he's standing in front of me, the bulge in his jeans calling to me like a beacon. There's only one problem. He's wearing entirely too many clothes. I reach to the waistband of his jeans. My fingers brush over the button and when I glance up, he's staring at me, watching my every move. With my heated gaze trained on his, I pop the button on his jeans and pull the zipper down. Slowly, I peel the sides away and push them over his thick, muscular thighs until they hit the floor with a thud. I run my fingers over the outline of his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Is that a baseball bat between your legs?" I murmur to myself, but apparently not quietly enough.

"Only one way to find out." He hooks his thumbs under the elastic, and he pulls the boxer briefs down. His cock springs free, fully erect and right in front of my face. I lift my hand and do my best to wrap my fingers around his girth. With my thumb, I swirl the bead of pre-cum around the tip. Needing lubrication, I collect what saliva I have in my mouth and spit it onto the head. I move it around as much as possible until I've coated most of his cock and my hand. I slide my hand down to the base and then up to the tip.

"Fuck. I love when you touch me. Feels so fucking good." His fingers thread through my hair.

A stinging sensations spreads over my scalp as he curls his fingers in the strands, but I don't stop. I continue to stroke him while occasionally wrapping my lips around the crown and swirling my tongue around the tip. I'm desperate to see him loose control. He thrusts his hips, pushing his dick into my hand. With each pass he gains more momentum .

"Fuck. I'm going to come." His thrusting becomes more erratic in my hand until his hot cum spurts out, hitting me in my chest and sliding down my stomach. Eventually, his movements slow and I drop my hand. When his breath evens out, he bends over and rests his hands on the back of the couch, caging me in. "I think you deserve one more orgasm."

I stir awake, but my eyelids have fifty-pound weights attached to them. My head throbs like someone played Wack-O-Dessa with a baseball bat for the last twelve hours. I groan and roll over. My hand brushes along something warm and my eyes snap open. A mop of dark brown hair, attached to tan, muscular shoulders, lays next to me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Alarms blare through my head, which does nothing to help my massive headache. Flashes of last night flit through my mind. Garrett came over. We talked. Had drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. Kissing. Touching. Fuck.

I jackknife to the seated position, ready to bolt out of here, but it's my bedroom. Pinching my eyes shut, I rest my palm on my forehead as my head throbs in protest. Spots dot my vision as I hastily lift the blanket to see I'm wearing only my bra and underwear. I drop the blanket. What happened last night? I lift the blanket again only a little higher and I'm greeted with a tight and toned muscular ass. My eyes widen. Holy shit. He's naked. I drop the blanket. I have my underwear on. Did we have sex? I scan the room for any telltale signs like a condom wrapper, but nothing. Instead, I find my favorite dark blue Minnesota Mallards jersey lying in a pile surrounded by buttons. I didn't realize he has such strong, hateful feelings toward the team. I move past the now-ruined jersey, but don't see anything. Maybe we didn't use protection? I lift the blanket for one more peek. Is it wrong I want to sink my teeth into the firm muscle? It must be from all the squats he does behind home plate. I bite my lower lip. Of course, it's wrong. I scold myself. Releasing my lip, I pout. You can't go around biting people's asses. They taught you that in kindergarten. Maybe not the asses part but definitely the "no biting."

"How many times are you going to look at my ass?"

My heart rate spikes. I've been caught.

"There's a draft every time you lift the blanket. Plus, it's way too early. Go back to bed," he mumbles into the pillow.

"Why are you naked?"

He rotates his head to face me, causing his brown hair to flop over his forehead. "I always sleep naked."

"Even in someone else's bed?"

"The bed doesn't care."

"But I do."

"Fine. You want me to put my underwear on?" He faces away from me and lifts the blanket, exposing his right butt cheek.

I grab the blanket and cover him again. "The damage to my sheets is already done. I have to burn them now."

"I'm pretty sure your sheets enjoyed the company last night. By the way you screamed my name, you did too."

"No." I shake my head, but the movement makes my head pound even more.

"Oh yeah, you did. I'm sure all your neighbors know you had company last night."

I slide down on the bed, willing it to swallow me whole. "What did I do last night?" I murmur.

"You gave me a very sloppy hand job. "

A boisterous laugh escapes me. I vaguely remember his face between my legs and our time on the couch. Pretty much everything after that is a blur. "I saw three different cocks. I did my best to pick the right one. I can't say you did any better. I couldn't tell if all the wetness between my legs was my orgasm or your saliva. You were like a Saint Bernard with a jar of peanut butter. I'm pretty sure you bruised my clit from all the sucking."

A deep laugh rumbles from his chest. "And if you check under your fingernails, you'll find some of my DNA from gripping my hair so tight. I'm surprised your voice isn't horse from screaming my name."

I shoot him a glare. "My voice is just fine." Twisting around, I roll out of bed to at least put on a shirt so I'm a little less naked. While sitting on the edge of the bed, I glance down. What the hell? I peer over my shoulder. "Why do I have bruises on my inner thighs?" Did I fall last night and smack my thigh against something? I inspect the blue and purple skin closer. Are those teeth marks? "What the…" Those aren't bruises. They're hickeys. "What are you? A vampire?"

The bed dips as Garrett moves to look over my side. "Huh. I guess last night I was."

"What's wrong with you?" I palm his forehead and push him away.

He laughs and rolls to the side. I rise to my feet and walk the few steps to my dresser. I pull open the drawer and find an extra-long t-shirt. Before tugging it over my head, I glance over my shoulder and catch Garrett's eyes on me. I turn away, mostly to hide the smile that's taken over my face. "Also, you owe me a jersey." I grab the now scrap of fabric from the floor and toss it at him.

He catches it mid-air and deposits it back to the floor on the other side of the room. "You thought it would be funny to put that on last night. But you didn't find it funny when I ripped it off. With how much you moaned my name, I think you forgave me."

I roll my eyes. "You still owe me a jersey." I walk to the edge of the bed, and Garrett reaches over and tugs me on top of him.

He rolls us over and shifts the blanket to cover me. Once he's situated, he drapes his arm over my waist. "I'll get you a new jersey." His lips press to the spot right below my ear.

When we were younger, Garrett would also throw his arm around my shoulders while we sat next to each other on the couch. I never thought much about it. It was something we always did. But now, lying in my bed, me half-naked and him fully naked, with his arm around me, hits differently.

"So, about last night… We didn't…" I curl my fingers into an O with one hand and stick out my pointer finger and poke it through the hole, "last night."

His eyebrows draw together, a smirk flirts on his lips. "Did we… make hand gestures at each other?"

"No." I widen my eyes and raise my brows. "Did we…" I motion with my hands again.

He shrugs, feigning ignorance.

I drop my hands to the comforter and huff out a breath. "We didn't have sex last night." I pause. "Did we?"

"See? That wasn't so hard. Do you think we had sex?"

My eyes shift back and forth. I remember the kissing, and the couch, but coming into the bedroom is black. I imagine I'd be a little sore if he's as big as I remember. My nipples pebble at the thought of my hand wrapped around his thick cock. I shake the thought away. Now is not the time.

"I'm not sure. I'm assuming I would be smarter than that. But we consumed a lot of alcohol last night. Anything could have happened." I drop my head to my hands. "Chances are we did. Dammit."

He laughs. "Before you give yourself a coronary, I'll have you know your vagina is safe. We didn't have sex."

A wave of relief washes over me.

"Believe me, you'd remember if we had sex." He sits up, the blanket drapes over his waist as he leans against the headboard. "But you did beg for it."

I gasp. "No, I didn't." Shit. Did I? Honestly, I wouldn't put it past drunk me. She can be a little slut.

"You did, and I quote, ‘Garrett? I want your baseball bat cock in me.'" He uses his falsetto voice on the last part.

"You're so full of shit." I playfully backhand his bicep. "I would not say baseball bat cock."

"But you did many times. Along with ‘I'm so horny for you. Fuck me with your big dick,' and ‘I want to play with your baseballs.'"

My cheeks flame red hot. "There's no way I said all those things. If I did, I'm blaming it on the tequila."

He leans over, the edge of the blanket shifting lower on his lap exposing his V muscle. His thumb brushes over my cheek. "You're fucking adorable when you blush, but there's no need to be shy with me."

My heart hammers in my chest, waiting to see if he's going to kiss me. The anticipation builds as I ache for him to kiss me, but instead he pulls away. "I have to get going. I have some rehearsal dinner bullshit to attend."

He rolls to the edge of the bed and throws off the blanket. His back muscles flex as he rises to his feet. Then there's his ass. I should look away, but like earlier, I can't. But when he bends over, I divert my gaze.

"I don't understand why you have to practice getting married before you get married. You stand in front of a pastor and say ‘I do.'" He pulls his boxer briefs over his hips. The elastic waistband slaps against his skin once they're in place.

"Some people want the day to be perfect. Special."

"What would you want?" Next, he yanks on his pants.

At least he was smart enough last night to bring his clothes with him to the bedroom so I don't have to watch him parade across my bedroom—naked—to fetch them. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

"Doesn't every girl envision her dream wedding when she's like five years old?"

I laugh. "Not five. Maybe seven." I shrug. "I'd want something simple, elegant. Nothing too flashy. Something in the moment."

"I've made a mental note." He smirks. Then he rounds the foot of the bed to my side. Bending at the waist, he rests his palms on either side of me. "I have to get going before I crawl back into bed with you and finish what we started last night." He kisses my cheek. "I'll see you at the wedding."

"Let me walk you out." My fingers grip the edge of the blanket and lift.

"Stay in bed. Go back to sleep." His lips press to my forehead in a soft kiss.

Before I can say to hell with this and drag him back to bed, he exits my bedroom and descends the stairs. I hear rustling for a few seconds before the front door opens and clicks shut.

He's chipped away a little more, okay a lot more, of the hatred I've held on to for so long. A friendship is inching closer to the horizon.