Page 14 of Exrated
“So, I did what any best friend would do, and I made you a fire.”
“You set the entire yard on fire, Tyler. The tree house, the fence, the doghouse—all up in flames.”
Now we’re both laughing.
“My Dad was so pissed at me,” he says. “They took my Nintendo away for three months.”
“Yeah, which is why you cut my pigtail off, huh?
He smiles. “I did that because Tommy Fisher had a crush on you.” He reaches over and flicks my hair. “I thought if you weren’t as cute he’d leave you alone.”
That makes my heart hurt. I stare at him, and it’s hard, it’s really hard. Twelve years of my life revolved around Tyler. I hate him because I felt abandoned, but more than anything I hate him because no matter what, deep down inside, I never was able to really stop loving him. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I call bullshit on that. His absence over the past four years has let me deny everything, it’s allowed me to forget the way his dimples pop out when he smiles, the sound of his voice, the way he makes me feel safe. I liked it when I’d forgotten those things because you don’t miss things you’ve forgotten you lost.
My heart’s sitting in the back of my throat, my skin flushing with a nervous heat. And for a moment, I think I should kiss him just because I’ve forgotten what his lips feel like. Tyler’s gaze flicks from my eyes to my lips as he slowly leans in toward me. Panicking, I hop up and walk to the window. I watch his reflection in the glass. He stares at me for a brief moment then drops his head and leans over his knees. Who would have thought four years later this could still feel so raw? Honestly, I believed he’d just gone on with his life, never regretting a thing, but it’s obvious right now that’s not the case. When I lost him I didn’t just lose a boyfriend, I lost my best friend. I lost my everything.
The emotions are eating away at me, confusing me. I fight it for a few minutes. I fight it hard, but the alcohol hates me and I blurt out, “Come here.” As soon as those words fly out of my mouth, I regret them, and I rest my forehead against the cool pane of glass in front of me.
Not a second later, he’s behind me, standing too close, his long, agile fingers skimming over my arm. “I miss you, titch.” He grips my arm and spins me around.
“Tyler—” I say because he’s so damn close, but before I can utter another word, his warm lips are over mine. Now I’m weak. So fucking weak.
Taking me by the shoulders, he pins me against the window. I give in. I shouldn’t, but you tell me the guy who was your everything, that broke your heart—you tell me that he has you pinned against a wall years later and you would say no.
His tongue parts my lips, dipping into my mouth in that slow, seductive way I’ve yet to find since him and I moan. My hands slip over his biceps, over the bulges and defined ridges. His hands cup my face, tilting my head so he can tongue me deeper and harder. Fuck my life, this kiss is sex—this is what sex is supposed to be, and I still have all my clothes on. Every part of my body is heated, every last inch of me tingling. I’m wet and I hate him for it.
He pulls away with his palms still gripping my face. “I can’t help it,” he says.
I hesitate because if I kiss him again, it’s over.
“I shouldn’t…” His lips are on mine again. “Tell me no,” he says in a groan against my mouth before tearing me from the wall and backing me toward the hall.
“Why…” I breathe between deep kisses, slipping my hands beneath his shirt to feel over his hard, hot stomach.
“Because…”
“Shhh.”
“There’s…” We bang into the wall— “something I need to tell you.”
“Shhhh. Fuck, just shut up already, Tyler. I don’t care.”
And I don’t. I don’t care what his reasons are. I don’t care what he regrets or doesn’t regret. I just want to fuck him.
“Fuck, Jemma.”
Within seconds, my shirt is over my head, my bra undone and he’s palming my breasts. My back hits another wall before a door swings open. His hands work my skirt over my hips then, I’m falling, and he’s coming with me. My shoulders hit the soft mattress. He’s over me, kissing me, his lips trailing down my neck, his hands on my breasts, sliding down my stomach. My fingers skim under his shirt and yank it over his head. He unzips his fly and I help him push his jeans and boxers over his ass.
“So fucking hot,” he breathes over my stomach as he works my thong down my thighs. I glance down to find him staring up at me, his light brown eyes shredding into parts of me I don’t let anyone else get to. “There’s something—” his lips press over my hipbone and my back involuntarily lifts. Tyler pulls my thong from my ankles and tosses them to the side. “Something…”
“Don’t,” I say threading my fingers through his hair. “Just,” I swallow. “Just don't.”
And with that his warm mouth covers me, his tongue fucking me so deep, so soft, so—fucking God, I can’t find the word. All that feeling does is make me want to melt, fucking forget there is anything in this world aside from his mouth on me. My thighs fall apart, my hips thrust upwards and my fists ball in his soft sheets.
“Goddamn, you are so gorgeous,” he says in a groan, his fingers digging into my thighs. “God—” he licks over me— “fucking—” a hot breath blows across me—“damn.”I swear he’s about to break skin with his death grip on my thighs
One deep thrust of his tongue, one rake of his teeth over my clit, and my muscles are already tensing. He pushes my legs farther apart and slowly traces one hand between my thighs. His finger brushes over me. There’s a warm breath, and now his finger is sinking deep inside of me, curling and flexing in just the right spots as he continues to flick his tongue over me. I breathe in on a moan, writhing on his bed from how damn good he feels.
“Tyler,” I whisper. “Stop.” I want him to stop because if he doesn’t I’m going to come and I’m not ready. I want this to last as long as possible.
