Greg knelt before me clearly in awe as he spread my thighs apart. He ran his warm fingers up and down my legs, over my hips. “I love touching you.”
I stared at him, anticipation intensifying with his every movement. His fingers danced along my folds, then slipped inside, and I let out a moan.
He grinned. “Ah, that’s what I wanted to hear.”
His breath warmed my inner thighs as he leaned closer and flicked his tongue up my seam. I groaned. His fingers began pumping in me as his tongue circled my clit. I wove my fingers through his hair, trying to hold out against the rising wave of pleasure pulsing with me.
A hint of doubt crept in, but I remembered Greg’s words. That the end result didn’t matter as long as I was enjoying myself. We can check that off the list.
The tension kept building, a bomb on a timer, counting down. I stopped worrying, stopped thinking, as I lost myself in Greg’s delicious attention. He kept up a steady rhythm, and before I knew it, I was gasping for breath as the first wave hit me.
But he didn’t stop there. He sucked on my clit again, keeping pace with his fingers until the earth shattered around me. I cried out his name as I closed my eyes and stars filled my vision.
I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a satisfied smile as he slid his fingers out of me.
“You tasted just as sweet as I thought you would,” he said, with a smirk. “I think I know what your problem was.”
I was mush, almost too tired to answer. The bliss of the orgasm combined with the alcohol and my lack of sleep the night before. “What’s that?”
“You were fucking the wrong guys.” His gentle, whispered words bit through my sleepy haze.
I managed to glare at him. “Whose fault was that?”
His palm slid under mine, and he brought my hand to his lips. “Mine, Jellybean. All mine.” Then he picked me up like a rag doll and carried me to my bed, my eyelids heavier by the second. He slipped off my shoes, dropping them to the floor with a gentle thunk.
My protests were almost incoherent. “I might be able to stay awake for sex.” I really wanted to return the favor.
But when I tried to reach for him, he just chuckled. “Oh, Jellybean, this was all about you tonight, okay?”
I frowned. “But—”
“Listen, you haven’t slept well for a couple nights. You’ve had plenty to drink. And you’re in post-orgasm bliss. Take advantage of it.” He tucked me in and kissed my forehead.
I sighed, then grabbed his hand, my words a little mumbled. “Couldn’t you stay? Just to snuggle?”
A tormented groan escaped him. “If I stay, you wouldn’t be sleeping, and that’s what you need.” His lips brushed mine once more.
That’s Greg, always looking out for me…even when I don’t necessarily want it. His fingers slid out of mine, and a flicker of disappointment skittered through me, but I knew he was right.
“I’ll be here in the morning, okay?” He padded into the other room, making sure not to shut my door all the way so the light could filter in. “Sweet dreams, Jellybean.”
The wedding day dawned bright and early without me. I slept in until nine. The sun was up, though its shine was buried deep behind a layer of clouds and snow. The storm had arrived. My head felt heavy, but I was relieved to not have a hangover.
I stretched, the sheets brushing against my naked body. Naked? The memories came rushing back in a flood. Every detail, every intimate moment. I lay there stunned, replaying all the things Greg had said, had done. He had claimed me. Tasted me.
And admitted it was his fault I’d been with the wrong guys.
Part of me didn’t want to get out of bed. What if it had all been a delicious dream? And if it had been real, where was I on the whole ‘mad at Greg’ scale? I covered my face with a pillow just as a gentle tap sounded on the door.
I peeked out as the door edged open, mortified to see the object of my thoughts peering in. I flung the pillow away and yanked up the covers.
Greg just chuckled. “Morning, Jellybean. Any reason you’re not out of bed yet?”
Oh shit. I recognized that teasing grin, and I was too embarrassed to answer.
“Thought I’d check on you, make sure you have everything you need.” His gaze trailed over the covers as if they were see-through. “Want to come out and play?”
I shook my head, clutching the covers to my chin.