Page 28 of Always Knew It Was You

My body buckles as we rush to the peak. His eyes roll back, pure pleasure in his flushed face. He swears and snarls as desire turns him into an anguished beast.

“Oh, God, I’m coming!” I cry out as my senses splinter again and, almost simultaneously, Micah jerks his own release into me.

I feel it, his hot need spurting inside me and it nearly triggers a second orgasm. But I just don’t have it in me.

I sag limply against him and he groans in my hair.

“Jesus,” Micah says, clutching me for uncountable seconds after it’s done. His hands shake, and he’s still panting in my hair.

I try to use the rest of my flagging energy to crawl out of his lap, but his arms tighten around me keeping me in place.

“That was insane,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” I whisper, resting back on him. That last orgasm seems to have sucked the last bit of strength out of me and I’m in a pleasant fog, ready to fall asleep right here on his chest. Especially with the way his hand begins running through my hair at regular intervals, his heartbeat racing under my ear.

And then in an instant, as if just realizing what he was doing, he lets his hand drop and says, “I need to get you home, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” I recognize the words for what they are, a need to detach. Still, when I attempt to climb off his lap for the second time, he holds on to my thigh for a second and his hand almost seems reluctant to release me. Which is crazy because he’s the one making it clear that this moment of intimacy is over.

Not that I mind much. I’m used to fun meaningless sex, and I know how to keep myself from falling too deeply. I also know that a man holding you and kissing you and sometimes even telling you he loves you after mind-blowing sex means nothing. It’s all just hormones.

I straighten my dress and take off my damp panties, as I get into my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of him tucking his cock back into his pants, with a wet patch in front. God, even soft he’s still majestic, long and thick. I want him in my mouth and make a mental note to do that the next time we hook up. If there is a next time.

When I glance up, he’s looking at me, something dark in his gaze.

“What?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing.” Then he reaches over and slips my seat belt over my body. While he’s at it, his arm brushes against my thigh and triggers aftershocks inside my pussy.

Down girl. Maybe next time.

The ride back to my neighborhood is cozy and quiet. I relax in the seat, languishing in the feel of a luxury car gliding smoothly along the roads. I’ve never been a car girl, never known the difference between one or another, but I have to admit there’s something just nice about coasting in a smooth car with comfortable leather seats that feel like they could melt the stress right out of you.

Suddenly, my phone rings loud enough to cut through the comfortable silence.

My eyes pop open and I reach for my purse, which had slipped from my shoulders unceremoniously in our little tumble. I’m glad I didn’t somehow lose it when we were hooking up at the restaurant because I didn’t even have the presence of mind to search for it before I left.

I fish the phone out of the bag, ready to answer automatically, until I see the unknown number.

Unknown but very familiar.

Whoever is calling is doing so from the Laketown jailhouse.

I swallow, all my relaxation dissipating as tension coils in my muscles. There are three people who it could be.

It could be my dad, arrested for public drunkenness or belligerently starting a fight with a bartender.

My mother, arrested for swiping someone’s wallet or trying to box a church lady.

Or Nate.

Somehow, somehow, I know in my bones that it’s that last one.

And talking to Nate is worse than the other two, because it’s more painful. On some level, I’ve managed to detach myself somewhat from my parents and their misdeeds. I still feel I owe them some loyalty because they’re my parents but their screwups no longer hurt me as deeply.

But Nate… what he did hurt.

Because I cared about him, and still do care about him. And I know he’s not truly a bad person, which is what makes this whole thing worse. I seem to be the only one who still holds onto the notion because admittedly, Nate has done a truly horrible thing.

---