Page 37 of Never Always
Chapter Twelve
Tennyson
“WHY DIDN’T YOUcall me all morning?” I slur as Grange leads me out of Cat’s Diner, his arm through mine. We stayed just long enough for Rexy and Grange to grab something to eat, hash out Thanksgiving plans which now include my whole family as well, and for Grange to insist I’ve had enough to drink for one meal. “I neva drink,” I add, now that we’re alone. I feel the need to explain, because well, I know how much trouble his drinking got him into.
“Tell that to the letter R,” Grange teases, forcing me to realize I am quite drunk and incapable of speaking clearly. “I’m glad I was here to come get you. What would have happened if I wasn’t able to walk you home? What then? In case it slipped your mind there’s a serial killer on the loose.”
My stomach sinks and that’s a dangerous thing when it’s filled with alcohol. “Oh,” I exclaim. “You’re right.”
“I don’t want to be right about this.” Grange sounds angry, and that makes me angry.
“You’re not my dad,” I reply, scoffing, but still keeping my free hand on my stomach. “You don’t get to tell me how to live.”
Grange stops walking suddenly. Rexy honks the horn of his truck as he barrels past us on the road. He spins me to face him and a brisk chill hits my face, taking my breath away. His eyes are like icy daggers. “I’m not your dad. But after last night, there’s no way in hell I’m letting anything happen to you.” Another car blows by us, fanning another icy chill our way. Grange is wearing grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt that’s still a bit sweaty. I know because I sniffed him. He has to be freezing.
“Oh, so it’s about sex now? We have sex and you can’t let anything happen to your source. God forbid.”
His face changes swiftly, pain ricocheting thicker than the chill. “That’s what you think I meant by that? What is wrong with you? I tell you I want to protect you and you label yourself a cum dumpster.”
I make an exaggerated gagging noise. “That is disgusting, Corrick Granger, and maybe I am saying that because I’m the kind of woman who saves the world. I don’t get to keep the guy. It’s not in the cards for me.” I think of everything Maeve said, all the complimentary things that I’ve achieved because I stayed alone all of this time. I’ve spoken truth. There’s no way around it.
I stumble back and to the side, into the road, when a swell of dizziness hits. I’m in his arms, in the embankment on the side of the road in the next moment, a semi-truck speeding away behind us. A near miss. Even nearer if I were sober, I’m sure. I’m wrapped in his arms and that’s when I feel him shaking. A rough shiver against my body where he’s touching me. I pull back, calming my skittering pulse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see the truck coming.”
He’s terrified. That’s the only word I can use to describe his features right now. He doesn’t answer, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder and doesn’t set me down until we’re in front of my door. “Keys,” Grange growls, extending a hand. I fish them out of my jacket pocket while bitching at him to put me down. When we’re safely inside my warm home, he sets me down.
Fingers in my hair, his gaze locked on my trembling lips. “I can’t lose you. Don’t be a moron.”
“Your sentiment is so… so… romantic,” I deadpan, rubbing my stomach. “I have a stomachache from your brutality.”
He raises one brow, returning to his casual humor. “No, you have a stomachache because you drank multiple mimosas in an hour, Tennyson. You need water.”
“I don’t need water,” I say, confidence rising because of the liquid courage. “I need you.”
Grange runs a hand through his blonde hair and looks at the ceiling and then at the funeral flowers sitting by my fireplace. “No, I’m fucking pissed right now. At the truck, at you for being so dense, at myself for being so fucking confused, I’m pissed at the world, Fire. You don’t want me right now. Trust me.”
Walking up to him, I grab the strings that tighten his sweatshirt hood and pull firmly once. “What if I want a rage fuck? I haven’t stopped thinking about you inside me all day. It’s making me crazy. I used to be a productive member of society, but now the only product I want is you. Naked. Inside of me. As many times as I can have you.”
His neck works as he swallows hard. “You are literally the textbook definition of drunk and horny. You realize that, right?”
I grab him through his sexy sweatpants and squeeze. “And you realize you are the definition of rock hard and ready, right?”
He moans in defeat and I drop to my knees right there in the middle of the living room, taking that elastic waistband down as I go. Grange still tastes like his sweaty soap. He says something about showering first, but his concerns vanish as I swallow him down as far as I can, the indiscernible scent of man egging me on, sliding my mouth and tongue all over his steely erection. His hands lightly tangle in my hair as he holds me in place. I use my palm to stroke when my mouth gets tired and emboldened, I give him everything. All of my energy, all of my efforts, even if I’ve only given a blow job one other time for like twenty-five seconds. Maybe if I can prove to myself that I can do more than one thing well, I won’t feel so shallow, inept, at embracing Corrick Granger in all ways. Maybe I’d believe him when he says maddening, beautiful things about me if I can be perfect in this moment. For him.
Peering up at him, he’s staring back at me, blue eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. He smirks, and I think he’s about to make a joke, or say something rude, but he thrusts his hips forward a few times and comes down my throat in warm, creamy bursts. “Fire, my God,” Grange says in between gasps. “I’ve never come so hard from a blow job in my life.” I get it all down in a hard swallow and try not to think about the salty semen traveling down my esophagus. I’d like to tell him that the reason it tastes salty is because of the copious amounts of zinc in his semen and how it stabilizes the sperm’s DNA, but that’s better left for another time. I pull up his pants as I stand.
He collapses into a side chair next to my sofa. “Dear God, I need a nap after that. And, uh, I’ll go ahead and note that multiple mimosas is the straight path to blow jobs.”
I pile my hair on top of my head, self-satisfaction evident.
“You aren’t my source, by the way. What you said back there about me wanting to keep you safe because you’re my source. If you weren’t aware, I’m quite capable of finding meaningless sources. That’s not you though.” Grange props an elbow on the arm of the chair and rests his head on it. “I care about you, Fire. A lot.”
All of a sudden, I’m hot. I pull the sweater over my head and my undershirt comes off too. Damn static electricity. Flustered, red, and with the room spinning, I respond. “I care about you too, Grange. That’s why I was sort of bummed you didn’t call me.”
“Tennyson, I was working out the entire time. With Rexy. We get shit for reception on base and especially in the gym. Walking out we got the text from Maeve telling us to meet at Cat’s. I’m sorry I didn’t call you when my dick was literally still wet… from you.”
I cringe. “Do you have to be so graphic? And you wore a condom so technically your dick wasn’t wet.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s an expression.”
